They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Lois barefoot despite Clark's protests about the sidewalk. The diner turned out to be exactly what they needed - a 24-hour throwback to simpler times, complete with chrome fixtures and vinyl booths.
"Now this is more like it," Lois said, sliding into a booth by the window. She'd changed into jeans and a blouse, looking more like herself than she had in the evening gown. Though Clark had to admit, both looks suited her in very different ways.
"Two coffees," she told the approaching waitress. "And please tell me you serve breakfast all day."
"24/7, honey. Special's the Vegas Slam - three eggs any style, bacon, hashbrowns, and pancakes big enough to use as a pillow."
"Perfect." Lois didn't even need to look at the menu. "Over easy, extra crispy on the bacon."
"Same for me," Clark added. "Though maybe medium on the bacon."
When the waitress left, Lois pulled out her notebook. "Okay, Smallville. Spill. How did you really get Stark to agree to an interview?"
"I told you - I just asked the right questions." Clark adjusted his glasses. "He's used to people asking about the parties, the women, the playboy lifestyle. I asked about his MIT thesis on ethical constraints in automated targeting systems."
"Of course you did," Lois shook her head, but her smile was fond. "Only you would read a billionaire's college thesis before meeting him."
"Says the woman who memorized General Ross' entire military service record before that interview last month."
"That's different. That was research." She paused as their coffee arrived. "Speaking of research - what did you make of my father's cozy little chat with Luthor and Stane?"
Clark considered his words carefully. "There's definitely something going on between LuthorCorp and Stark Industries. And Corbin..."
"Yeah," Lois's expression darkened slightly. "What's his story? He served under my father, apparently, but I don't remember him."
"Your father seemed to know him."
"Dad knows a lot of soldiers." Lois stirred her coffee absently. "But something about Corbin feels off. The way he was looking at me..."
"I noticed that too." Clark felt a protective instinct stir. "Maybe we should look into his background."
"Already on it." Lois pulled out her phone. "Jimmy's running his service record. Though knowing Lex, any interesting details will be buried pretty deep."
Their food arrived - enormous plates that made Clark grateful for his Kryptonian metabolism. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both processing the evening's events.
"You know what bothers me most?" Lois said finally, stealing a piece of Clark's bacon. "Stane's reaction when you mentioned the interview. His heartrate practically doubled."
Clark nearly choked on his coffee. "You could tell his heartrate changed?"
"Figure of speech, Smallville," Lois rolled her eyes. "But his whole demeanor shifted. And that phone call he made afterward..."
"The one about Stark not being a problem much longer?" Clark had hoped she hadn't overheard that.
"Exactly. Combined with those shipping manifests I found..." Lois leaned forward, lowering her voice despite the empty diner. "What if Stane's been running his own operation behind Stark's back? Using Stark Industries' resources for something unauthorized?"
"And maybe working with LuthorCorp to do it?" Clark suggested. "That would explain Lex's warning about asking too many questions."
"Got to love how your old college buddy tries to sound concerned while making threats." Lois stole another piece of bacon. "What's the story there anyway? You never talk about your university days with Luthor."
Clark shrugged, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Not much to tell. We had some classes together, debated ethics and technology. He was brilliant, but..."
"But you saw something in him even then," Lois finished. "Something that made you turn down his job offers."
"Let's just say our views on journalistic integrity didn't align." Clark pushed his plate toward her, giving up on protecting his bacon. "Kind of like your views on sharing food."
Lois grinned unrepentantly. "I'm doing you a favor. No one should eat this much at 2 AM." Her expression grew more serious. "We need to follow up on those shipping manifests before Stark leaves for Afghanistan. If Stane is really up to something..."
"We'll need proof," Clark cautioned. "Hard evidence, not just suspicions."
"That's why we make such good partners, Smallville. You keep me honest, I keep you from being too cautious." She signaled for the check. "Want to walk back? Night's still young, and I'm not ready to face that suite Monica thinks we're sharing as newlyweds."
The Strip was quieter now, though still far from asleep. They walked slowly, Lois occasionally stopping to window shop at the high-end boutiques that never seemed to close.
"You know what's funny?" she said suddenly. "This is probably the closest thing to a real date we've ever had."
Clark's heart did something complicated in his chest. "Is that what this is?"
"God no," Lois laughed, but there was something soft in her expression. "This is work. Very important investigative work that happens to involve breakfast food and midnight walks."
"Of course," Clark agreed solemnly. "Purely professional."
"Exactly." Lois looped her arm through his as they waited for a crosswalk light. "Though I have to admit, you clean up pretty nice when you're not wearing that brown suit."
"Are you ever going to let that suit go?"
"Nope. Consider it my professional duty to save you from your own fashion choices." The light changed, but she didn't move. "Clark?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for running interference with my dad tonight. And for..." she gestured vaguely, "you know. Being you."
Before Clark could respond, her phone buzzed. "It's Jimmy," she said, checking the message. "He found something interesting in Corbin's military records. Looks like his discharge wasn't as straightforward as he claimed."
And just like that, they were back to business. But as they headed back to Caesar's Palace, Clark couldn't help but notice that Lois kept her arm linked with his, and her heartbeat had that particular rhythm it got when she was both excited about a story and... something else.
Back in their suite, Lois spread Jimmy's research across the coffee table while Clark made coffee. "John Corbin," she read aloud, "Former Staff Sergeant, Third Infantry Division. Multiple commendations for valor in Iraq."
"But there's more," Clark said, setting down their cups. The documents Jimmy had sent painted a darker picture - one of a soldier who'd returned home to find a very different America than the one he'd left.
"His discharge wasn't just about the IED injury," Lois continued, shuffling through papers. "There were psych evaluations, mandatory counseling sessions. He came home to protests, people calling soldiers murderers over the WMD controversy."
Clark picked up another file. "married to Sarah Mitchell in 2002, just before his second deployment. They had a daughter - Emily, born while he was overseas." He paused, reading further. "The marriage didn't survive his return."
"Sarah filed multiple police reports," Lois noted grimly. "No charges, but lots of domestic disturbance calls. Neighbors reported arguments, things being thrown. She tried to get him help - "
"But the VA was overwhelmed," Clark finished. "Waiting lists for treatment, delayed benefits. Here's an article from the Metropolis Star - local veteran struggles with system. They used him as an example of how the government was failing returning soldiers."
Lois's expression softened slightly. "He was doing physical therapy at Metropolis General when Lionel Luthor found him. Look at this - LuthorCorp started a 'veterans initiative' program right after that."
"Convenient timing," Clark observed. "Especially with those military contracts coming up for review."
"There's more," Lois pulled up another document on her laptop. "Sarah's statement to their divorce lawyer. She says he became obsessed with feeling betrayed - by the government, by the public, by the media. He couldn't handle how people viewed the war."
Clark read over her shoulder: "He left to serve his country a hero and came home a villain in everyone's eyes. The protestors, the news coverage, the constant questions about WMDs... he couldn't reconcile his sacrifice with how society saw it."
"Emily was six when Sarah left," Lois said quietly. "Court records show she got full custody. Corbin wasn't even showing up for his scheduled visits - too busy with his new job at LuthorCorp."
"Where Lionel Luthor was more than happy to channel that anger and resentment," Clark added. He could imagine how easily someone like Lionel would recognize the potential in a bitter, disillusioned veteran with combat experience and a grudge against the media.
"Clark, look at this," Lois said suddenly, pulling up another document on her laptop. "Stark Industries started making regular shipments to LuthorCorp's advanced materials division right after Corbin joined their security team. But they're not listed as weapons components or technology transfers."
Clark leaned closer, adjusting his glasses. "They're classified as geological specimens. Rock samples from Afghanistan, marked for mineralogical research."
"Since when does Stark Industries care about rocks?" Lois's fingers flew across her keyboard. "They're a weapons manufacturer, not a mining company. And look at the shipping destinations - all LuthorCorp facilities with advanced cybernetics labs."
"Here's something else," Clark pulled up another file. "Stark's been sending specialized equipment to these same facilities. Radiation shielding, containment units... This looks more like they're handling hazardous materials than studying rocks."
"Let me see that," Lois leaned closer, her perfume momentarily distracting Clark. "The containment specs are military-grade. These aren't just lead-lined boxes - they've got electromagnetic shielding, temperature controls, even some kind of energy dampening system I've never seen before."
Clark studied the technical diagrams, thinking about the green rocks that had been appearing mysteriously around the world since 1980. His father had mentioned meteor showers that year, strange minerals turning up in unlikely places. "The shipping logs show collection points all over the world - Afghanistan, Brazil, Egypt..."
"That's what's weird," Lois pulled up a geological survey. "These rocks shouldn't exist in any of these locations. The mineral composition is completely foreign to Earth's known geological patterns. Yet somehow they're showing up everywhere - always in small quantities, always with the same unique energy signature."
"The timing matches too," Lois highlighted another section. "Stark's scientists found their first sample during a weapons test in Afghanistan. But look - there are reports of similar minerals being discovered as far back as 1980. Small deposits, scattered globally, but all with identical properties."
Clark felt a familiar unease, knowing exactly when and how these rocks had arrived on Earth. "What kind of rock needs that level of containment?"
"And these aren't isolated incidents," Lois pointed to more reports. "A meteorologist in Brazil found similar samples in 1981. Egyptian archaeologists discovered deposits near ancient ruins in '82. It's like something scattered these rocks across the planet."
"Or they all arrived at once," Clark suggested carefully, "and people are just now finding them."
"What, like some kind of worldwide meteor shower?" Lois's reporter instincts were clearly engaged. "That would explain the global distribution pattern. But why keep it secret? Why is everyone from Stark Industries to LuthorCorp scrambling to collect every piece they can find?"
"Or they all arrived at once," Clark suggested carefully, "and people are just now finding them."
"What, like some kind of worldwide meteor shower?" Lois's reporter instincts were clearly engaged. "That would explain the global distribution pattern. But why keep it secret? Why is everyone from Stark Industries to LuthorCorp scrambling to collect every piece they can find?"
"Maybe because of what the rocks can do," Clark said, thinking of his own reactions to the minerals. "These reports mention unusual energy emissions, radiation unlike anything in our scientific records."
"And look at these test results," Lois pointed to her screen. "The minerals seem to affect different substances in completely unpredictable ways. Organic material shows particularly strange reactions."
Clark fought to keep his expression neutral, remembering his first encounter with the green rocks back in Smallville. "What kind of reactions?"
"Cellular mutation, enhanced growth patterns, even complete structural changes in living tissue." Lois scrolled through more documents. "It's like these rocks can rewrite the basic rules of biology."
"Which would explain the interest from weapons manufacturers," Clark added, steering the conversation away from his own connection to the minerals. "Imagine being able to enhance soldiers, create new kinds of weapons..."
"Or heal injuries that modern medicine can't touch," Lois finished. "The kind of injuries someone like Corbin suffered in Iraq."
Lois stretched, her shoulders cracking after hours hunched over the laptop. The Vegas skyline glittered through their suite window, the city's endless energy at odds with their growing fatigue. "What gets me is the secrecy. If this was legitimate geological research, why route it through weapons shipments?"
"And why involve Corbin?" Clark mused, loosening his tie. "A former soldier with a grudge against the media suddenly becomes LuthorCorp's security chief, right when these shipments begin?"
"Speaking of our angry friend..." Lois pulled up another document. "Look at these medical records Jimmy found. After the IED injury, Corbin was treated at a VA hospital. But six months ago, he was transferred to a private facility - fully funded by LuthorCorp."
"Experimental treatments?" Clark suggested, though he already suspected it was something more sinister.
"Off the books treatments," Lois corrected. "No documentation, no oversight. Just large payments from a LuthorCorp shell company marked as 'veteran rehabilitation services.'"
Clark studied the financial records. "These payment amounts... they're not just covering medical care. This is serious money."
"Enough to buy someone's loyalty?" Lois suggested. "Or maybe their silence?"
"Or both." Clark stood, pacing the room as pieces started connecting. "Think about it - Stark finds something in Afghanistan. Something that needs special containment. Instead of reporting it through proper channels, he starts shipping it to LuthorCorp."
"Where they just happen to have state-of-the-art cybernetics labs," Lois continued, following his train of thought. "And a ready supply of desperate veterans willing to try experimental treatments."
"Veterans like Corbin," Clark added grimly. "Men who feel betrayed by the system, who might be willing to risk anything for a chance to be whole again."
Lois closed her laptop with a decisive click. "We need to get into those labs."
"Lois..."
"Don't 'Lois' me, Smallville. You saw how Corbin acted tonight. Whatever they're doing with those rocks, whatever they're testing on soldiers - it's changing them. And not just physically."
Clark knew that look in her eyes - the one that meant she'd already decided on a course of action, consequences be damned. "At least let's wait until we're back in Metropolis. Do more research, build a stronger case."
"Fine," Lois sighed, but her slight smile told him she appreciated his caution. "But first thing Monday, we're going through every shipping record, every medical file, every connection between Stark and LuthorCorp."
"Agreed." Clark checked his watch. "We should get some sleep. Early flight tomorrow."
"Some of us need beauty sleep more than others," Lois quipped, standing and stretching again. "Though I have to admit, Smallville, you make these late-night investigations almost enjoyable."
Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for having my back today. Even with Corbin trying to intimidate you."
The kiss was quick, casual even, but Clark felt its warmth long after Lois had retreated to her room. He touched his cheek, smiling slightly as he gathered their research materials.
Tomorrow they'd head back to Metropolis, back to the familiar rhythm of the Daily Planet. But something had shifted between them during this Vegas trip - something that had nothing to do with mysterious rocks or military conspiracies.
The next morning, Clark headed down to the lobby early. He had hoped to get coffee from the café before meeting Lois for their flight, but instead found John Corbin and General Lane in what appeared to be an intense discussion near the check-in desk.
"Kent," General Lane acknowledged as Clark approached. "Early riser?"
"Yes sir," Clark replied politely. "Need to file our preliminary story before the flight back."
Corbin stepped forward, deliberately inserting himself between Clark and the General. "John Corbin. We weren't properly introduced last night." His handshake was a vise grip that would have crushed a normal person's bones. "Lois mentioned you were from... where was it? Some farming town?"
"Smallville," Clark kept his grip deliberately gentle, though he noticed Corbin's frustration at being unable to make him wince. "Kansas."
"Right. Corn country." Corbin's smile was all teeth. "Must be quite a change, moving from tipping cows to chasing stories with someone like Lois."
"We don't actually tip cows in Kansas," Clark said mildly. "Though I imagine that's a common misconception for someone who's never spent time on a farm."
Corbin's eyes narrowed at the subtle jab. "You know, I've been reading some of your articles, Kent. Lots of soft features. Human interest stuff." He glanced at General Lane. "Not exactly hard-hitting journalism."
"My daughter speaks highly of Mr. Kent's work," General Lane said neutrally, though Clark caught the slight amusement in his tone at Corbin's obvious animosity.
"That's what I don't get, sir," Corbin continued, his voice carrying just enough for nearby guests to hear. "Lois Lane's one of the toughest reporters in Metropolis. Yet they partner her with this... farmboy?" His lip curled. "No offense, Kent, but you don't exactly strike me as someone who can watch her back in dangerous situations."
"Someone has to make sure she keeps the receipts for accounting," Clark replied with a mild smile, which seemed to irritate Corbin even more.
"Is that what you think this job is? Paperwork?" Corbin stepped closer, using his military bearing to loom over Clark. "I've seen real danger, Kent. Combat. Death. What's the scariest thing you've faced - a charging chicken?"
"That would be a rooster," Clark corrected. "And they can be surprisingly aggressive. Though probably not as aggressive as someone trying too hard to prove something."
Before Corbin could respond, the elevator dinged and Lois emerged, carry-on bag in hand. Her expression tightened seeing the three men in what was clearly a tense tableau.
"Really, Dad? Sending your attack dog to intimidate my partner?" She walked straight to Clark's side. "Don't you have actual military matters to handle?"
"Just having a friendly chat with Kent here," Corbin said, his tone shifting to something almost pleasant. "Discussing journalism ethics."
"Right," Lois rolled her eyes. "Because the head of LuthorCorp security is so concerned with journalistic integrity."
"I'm concerned about your safety," General Lane cut in. "These stories you're chasing - Stark Industries, military contracts - they're drawing attention from powerful people."
"Good," Lois replied. "That means we're onto something."
Corbin's expression darkened. "You should listen to your father, Lois. Some stories aren't worth the risk. Especially when you're partnered with someone who might not be able to handle what's coming."
"I think I can decide for myself what risks are worth taking," Lois said sharply. "And who I trust to have my back."
"Trust is earned in battle," Corbin retorted, still staring Clark down. "In moments that test your mettle. Not writing puff pieces about farmer's markets and local fundraisers."
"You've been checking up on me," Clark noted mildly. "I'm flattered."
"Had to see what kind of man the Planet partnered with their star reporter." Corbin's voice dripped with disdain. "Tell me, Kent, have you ever even been in a real fight? Ever had to make split-second decisions when lives are on the line?"
"You'd be surprised," Clark replied, maintaining his calm demeanor despite Corbin's increasing hostility.
"Lo," General Lane interjected, "maybe we could discuss this over breakfast before your flight?"
"Sorry, Dad, but our flight leaves in two hours and we still need to file our preliminary story." Lois checked her watch pointedly. "Though I'm sure Mr. Corbin here would be happy to tell you all about his theories on what makes a real journalist."
"This isn't about journalism," Corbin growled. "It's about keeping you safe. These shipping manifests you're investigating-"
"So you have been monitoring our work," Lois interrupted. "Interesting that LuthorCorp's security chief is so concerned about Stark Industries' shipping records."
"I'm concerned about reporters who don't know when to back off," Corbin stepped closer to Lois, but Clark smoothly shifted position, putting himself between them. The movement was subtle but deliberate.
"Careful, farm boy," Corbin sneered. "Wouldn't want you hurting yourself playing hero."
"John," General Lane's voice carried a note of warning. "That's enough."
"Is it, sir?" Corbin's military discipline warred with his obvious anger. "Because from where I stand, your daughter's being deliberately reckless. Partnering with this... this soft-handed keyboard jockey who wouldn't know real danger if it-"
"I think," Clark interrupted quietly, "you're letting personal feelings cloud your professional judgment, Mr. Corbin."
"Personal feelings?" Corbin barked out a harsh laugh. "What would you know about that, Kent? What would you know about watching your brothers die in the sand while politicians and reporters debate the ethics of war from their comfortable offices?"
"That's not fair," Lois started, but Clark touched her arm gently.
"You're right," Clark said to Corbin. "I haven't experienced what you have. Haven't seen what you've seen. But I have seen what happens when good people let anger twist them into something they're not."
Something flickered in Corbin's eyes - recognition, perhaps, or memory. His hand drifted unconsciously to his side where the IED had done its damage.
"The minerals," he said suddenly, voice low. "The ones Stane's been shipping. They're changing things. People. You have no idea what's really-" He cut himself off, glancing at General Lane.
"What minerals?" Lois asked sharply. "The geological samples from Afghanistan?"
"Forget I said anything." Corbin's military bearing snapped back into place. "Just know that you're poking at things bigger than your small-town partner can handle."
"And yet here you are," Clark observed, "warning us instead of threatening us. Almost like part of you wants the truth to come out."
"The truth?" Corbin's laugh was bitter. "The truth is, you're a liability, Kent. A weakness Lois can't afford right now. The kind of man who'd hesitate when action is needed. Who'd try to talk his way out of a fight instead of-"
"Instead of what?" Lois demanded. "Instead of letting anger and bitterness turn everything into a fight? Clark's strength isn't in his fists, John. It's in knowing when not to use them."
"That's what you think strength is?" Corbin shook his head. "No wonder you can't see what's happening. What's coming." He turned to General Lane. "Sir, with respect, you need to talk sense into her before-"
"Before what?" A new voice joined them. Lex Luthor approached from the hotel restaurant, his casual manner at odds with the tension in the air. "Before she exposes something inconvenient, John?"
Corbin straightened instinctively. "Mr. Luthor. I was just-"
"Just having a friendly discussion about journalism ethics, I'm sure." Lex's smile was sharp. "Though perhaps this isn't the venue for such... philosophical debates."
Clark noticed how Corbin's demeanor changed completely in Lex's presence - from aggressive alpha male to obedient soldier. It was a telling shift.
"Of course, sir." Corbin nodded stiffly. "I should check on our security arrangements for the transfer."
"The mineral transfer?" Lois asked innocently. "Or something else you're moving while everyone's distracted by Stark's award ceremony?"
"Careful, Ms. Lane," Lex's tone was light but his eyes were cold. "Curiosity has been known to have unfortunate consequences."
"Is that a threat, Lex?" Clark asked, genuinely shocked that the blunt warning.
"From an old friend? Never." Lex gestured for Corbin to leave. "Just an observation about the dangers of asking the wrong questions at the wrong time."
As Corbin withdrew, they could hear him mutter under his breath - something about "soft-hearted bleeding-heart pencil-pusher." Clark's superhearing caught other, less printable descriptions.
"Your security chief seems troubled," Clark observed to Lex.
"John's passionate about his work," Lex replied smoothly. "Something I believe you understand, Clark. The drive to make a difference, to change the world..." He paused meaningfully. "Though we've chosen rather different paths to that goal, haven't we?"
"Some paths are straighter than others," Clark said.
"And some questions are better left unasked." Lex checked his watch. "Safe flight back to Metropolis, both of you. Do give Perry my regards."
After Lex left, General Lane turned to his daughter. "Lo, whatever you're investigating... be careful. Men like Corbin, they're trained to see threats everywhere. Sometimes they create the very dangers they're warning about."
"Is that what happened to him in Iraq, Dad?" Lois asked quietly. "Is that why his service record is partly classified?"
"That's not my story to tell." The General's expression softened slightly. "Just... watch your backs. Both of you." He nodded to Clark. "Kent."
"Sir," Clark replied respectfully.
After her father left, Lois let out a long breath. "Well, that was intense. You okay, Smallville? Corbin was really trying to get under your skin."
"I'm fine," Clark assured her. "Though I am curious about what slipped out regarding those mineral shipments."
"You caught that too?" Lois was already pulling out her notebook. "The way he talked about them changing people... And did you notice how he kept touching his side where he was injured?"
"Like he was making sure something was still there," Clark nodded. "Whatever Luthor and Stane are involved in, it's more than just weapons development."
"And somehow it involves rocks from Afghanistan that need special containment protocols." Lois's eyes lit up with the thrill of a developing story. "We need to follow those shipping manifests, Clark. Whatever's got Corbin so wound up, whatever made him try to warn us while threatening you..."
"It's big," Clark agreed. "Big enough to have both LuthorCorp and Stark Industries operating off the books."
"Big enough to turn a decorated soldier into LuthorCorp's attack dog," Lois added. "Did you see how he changed when Lex showed up? Like he wasn't even the same person."
Clark thought about the glimpses of pain and bitterness he'd seen beneath Corbin's aggressive facade. "Maybe he isn't. Not anymore."
They collected their bags and headed for the taxi stand, both lost in thought about the morning's confrontation.
"Clark?" Lois said suddenly. "Thanks for not rising to his bait. I know he was trying to provoke you."
"Some fights aren't worth having," Clark replied simply.
"That's what drives him crazy about you, you know." Lois smiled slightly. "He can't understand someone who has the strength to walk away from a fight."
If she only knew, Clark thought. But aloud he just said, "We should focus on finding out what's in those shipments. Whatever's giving Corbin the confidence to threaten Daily Planet reporters in broad daylight has to be more than just rocks from Afghanistan."
"And whatever it is," Lois added grimly, "Stane and Luthor think it's worth killing to protect. The question is - are we ready to face what happens when we expose it?"
Clark thought about Corbin's warnings, about the bitterness and rage that had transformed a decorated soldier into someone barely recognizable. About whatever mysterious minerals were being shipped between weapons manufacturers under cover of darkness.
"Ready or not," he said quietly, "I have a feeling we're about to find out."