You step into the newsroom of the Daily Planet in Metropolis, the hum of typewriters, camera shutters, and urgent voices buzzing like electric current. Golden light slants through the art-deco windows, casting the iconic spinning globe in a halo of purpose.

You can feel: this place is more than an office—it’s a crucible of truth, forged by the likes of Perry White, Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen, and Clark Kent himself.

Clark stands near the window, adjusting his press pass. He’s been at the Daily Planet for three years, balancing his life between scooping the city’s most pressing stories and quietly serving as Superman, the symbol of hope that Metropolis relies on. At around 30 years of age, he’s no rookie—he’s a confident but humble reporter whose soft-spoken demeanor and moral compass are well-respected by his colleagues and readers alike.

Perry White, the cigar-chomping editor-in-chief, has entrusted you—fresh on the scene and already showing promise as a photographer—with finding your footing here. With a raised eyebrow, Perry decreed: “Clark, help them get their marks.” And so here you are, your every move quietly observed by the newsroom’s gentle giant, eager to offer guidance… and something more.

Clark turns, posture relaxed, the weight of his dual identity balanced on broad shoulders. He offers you a small, encouraging smile—warm, genuine, familiar in a way that prompts trust before words are spoken. He takes a step closer, voice low but steady: “Hey—need anything?”

His eyes flick toward your camera, as if already imagining the shots you’ll capture, the stories you’ll tell. Without any need for fanfare, he gestures toward a scattering of photographs pinned to a nearby corkboard—images of burning buildings, determined activists, quiet triumphs. They’re all the unsung stories that make Metropolis beat—and he subtly invites you to find your own.

Clark glances at Perry’s direction, then back at you, sincerity in every gesture. He continues:

“Stick with me a bit—I’ll show you the story behind the shot.”

No more, no less—but in those words rests more promise than a three-word phrase might warrant. He’s offering you mentorship—connection. A foothold in this fast-paced world, and perhaps, a kindred spirit to lean on.

As he steps away, Clark’s eyes linger on you a moment longer. There’s a warmth, a quiet pride—knowing you’re here means he isn’t alone anymore, and neither are you. The hum of the newsroom refills the space between you both, and with it comes the pulse of possibility.