Lex Luthor was still dazed as he pulled away from Kent Farm.
The conversation he'd just had was overwhelming, far more than he had expected. Even with his sharp intellect and reputation for cold rationality, the revelations had shaken him. Clark Kent's strength was beyond human comprehension, and Adrian' strange, symbolic painting had felt like a glimpse into something far greater—perhaps even destiny itself.
His emotions churned in his chest, leaving him unsteady. He eased his car to the side of the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Taking slow breaths, he lowered his head and tried to compose himself, forcing rational thought to take control again.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his phone. With deliberate calm, he scrolled through his contacts until he found a number labeled Reporter K, then pressed call.
"Hey, Lex," the voice on the other end teased. "Don't tell me you left the hospital because you couldn't stand the nurses chasing after you. The great Lex Luthor, son of privilege, still hounded by admirers."
Lex gave a humorless smile. "I'm a selfish man. I want love exclusively and to be loved exclusively. That makes ordinary distractions meaningless to me."
He paused, tone sharpening. "I need you to investigate two people."
There was a moment of silence. "So you're dropping the Smallville High dance investigation?"
"No," Lex replied, fingers drumming idly on the steering wheel. "This doesn't conflict. Their names are Clark Kent and Adrian Kent. Both students at Smallville High. Find out everything you can—quietly. If there's any chance of exposure, drop it immediately. I don't want them noticing a thing."
He didn't want to admit it, but part of him feared losing Clark's trust. Clark had saved his life—literally pulled him from death's edge. Lex wasn't like his father; he couldn't just erase that debt or dismiss it as meaningless.
"Understood," the reporter answered crisply.
"Good. I'll wire the payment tonight, Chris."
Lex ended the call and sat for a moment, sunglasses in hand, before slipping them back on. His expression hardened as he pulled back onto the road, speeding away from the farm and deeper into the shadows of his own schemes.
---
Back at Kent Farm, Jonathan Kent eyed the check Lex had left on their table with disdain.
"Thanks from a Luthor?" he scoffed. "The Luthor family betrays everyone they deal with. Lies and ruthless ambition—that's carved into their bones."
Martha touched his arm gently. "This isn't about the Luthor family. This is Lex's gift to Clark. Lex is Lex. Don't condemn him because of his last name."
Jonathan's jaw tightened. "You think a man raised by someone like Lionel Luthor can really be different? Grateful? Generous? No. Clark saving him only gives him a new angle to exploit."
"Jonathan," Martha said softly, "are you really going to blame Clark again? You wanted to mend things with him. If you keep doing this, you'll only push him further away."
Jonathan sighed, his frustration giving way to helplessness. "I just… I'm scared, Martha. If the government ever finds out about Clark, we'll lose him."
"Then trust him," Martha whispered, squeezing his hand. "If we don't, we'll lose him anyway."
Her expression softened as she added, "I'll tell Clark to return the check. And tomorrow, when Clark plays in his first football game… you should be there. He'll be happy to see you."
Jonathan hesitated before nodding. "I'll go. But only to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone."
Martha smiled faintly, knowing her husband's love ran deeper than his words.
---
Far from the warm glow of the farmhouse, Adrian stood beside Clark in the Fortress of Solitude. The shadows of crystalline walls caught the last light of the sunset, painting the chamber in fractured hues.
"Lex Luthor?" Adrian's tone was sharp, his brow furrowed as his brother mentioned the name.
Of course it was him. The man destined to become humanity's most dangerous mind. Brilliant, arrogant, ruthless. That was Lex Luthor.
"Adrian, you know him?" Clark asked, noticing the sudden edge in his younger brother's voice.
Adrian's expression was unreadable. "I've heard of him." He turned away, walking toward the far side of the chamber where the crystal walls caught the light like fire. "Clark, you've read Nietzsche, haven't you?"
Clark blinked at the unexpected question. "Uh… yeah. Chloe recommended it once. I only skimmed a little."
"Nietzsche wrote of the Superman," Adrian said, his voice steady and calm, yet carrying weight. "A will to power beyond human morality. Someone who defines his own path, unchained by society's rules. If you had the choice, Clark… would you become that kind of Superman?"
Clark froze. The idea hung in the air like a judgment. After a pause, he shook his head firmly. "No. I'd never be that kind of person."
Adrian's lips curved in the faintest of smirks. "If Lex had the choice, he'd embrace it without hesitation."
Clark frowned, not sure if Adrian meant it as a warning or an observation. "I don't think he's as bad as Dad says. He's not… like Lionel."
"Believe whatever makes you sleep easier." Adrian brushed past him, heading toward the wooden stairs that led upward. His voice was casual, but sharp beneath the surface. "Good luck tomorrow. Don't be surprised if Dad shows up."
Clark blinked in surprise. Dad? Watching his football game? Impossible. Jonathan Kent had always opposed him playing. Adrian must be teasing him.
Yet the thought lingered as Clark returned to his telescope. His improved vision now reached farther than ever before—X-ray sharpness, detail crystal clear. He could see Lana a mile away as if she were standing in front of him.
But should he use it like this? To spy on her without her knowing? His heart wavered. The line between gift and temptation blurred before his eyes.
_____
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