Clark returned home to find his parents were already there. "Hi. Welcome home."
Both his parents hugged him.
Jonathan clasped his son's shoulder. "Clark, I thought you'd be home when we got back. Where have you been? Did you win the game?"
"Yeah, we won." Clark set his backpack down on the kitchen counter. "Look, I have a lot to tell you about. First, I was at the hospital on Friday night."
Jonathan's brow furrowed with immediate concern. "Who got hurt?"
"Uhhh..." he hesitated. "I found Earl Jenkins hiding in the loft. He was looking for you, Dad. He's all messed up."
"What's the matter with Earl?"
"I don't know, but he's wanted for murder."
"Earl?" Jonathan's eyes widened in disbelief. "What did he have to say for himself?"
He shook his head. "I couldn't get close."
"How come, the police?"
"No. As soon as I got near him, I got sick. It was weird. I mean, every time I stood next to him, it got worse. It's kind of like..."
Martha stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "Like what?"
"It's kind of like the way I feel around meteor fragments."
Jonathan and Martha exchanged troubled glances.
"And that's not all," he took a deep breath. "Let me tell you about this cave I fell into under the LuthorCorp Office Park construction site, and the drawings inside."
Martha pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Sit down, Clark. Tell us everything."
"I was at the construction site with Tyson and Pete. We were on dirtbikes when the ground gave way beneath me. I fell into some kind of underground cave system."
"Are you alright?" She immediately checked him over with her eyes.
"I'm fine, Mom," he assured her. "But the cave... it was covered in paintings and symbols. Native American stuff, I think, but there were symbols that looked like Kryptonian writing. The same kind that was on my spaceship."
Jonathan pulled up a chair across from Clark. "Are you sure about this?"
"Positive," he nodded firmly. "And there were drawings that looked like... well, like me. A figure with powers, shooting fire from his eyes, lifting impossible weights."
"This doesn't make any sense." Jonathan rubbed his jaw. "Those caves would have to be hundreds of years old."
"I know. That's what makes it so strange. How could Native Americans from centuries ago know about Krypton? About me?"
Martha placed her hand on Clark's. "Did anyone else see these caves?"
"Tyson and Pete did." He looked between his parents. "And the Kawatche have known about them too. Since it's under the LuthorCorp building site, I assume Lex knows too. But there was a Kawatche girl named Kyla. She saw me fall and get up unharmed."
Jonathan stood up and paced the kitchen. "This is exactly what we've always feared."
"Dad, I don't think Lex suspects anything about me, and Tyson already knows. Kyla suspects something."
"For now." Jonathan's voice was tight with worry. "But what happens when those symbols get translated? When someone realizes they match the markings on a spaceship that came down during the meteor shower?"
Martha interjected, "We don't know that anyone will make that connection, Jonathan."
Clark ran his hands through his hair. "There's more. Some of the cave drawings showed a conflict. A battle between two figures with powers. One seemed to be protecting people, and the other..." He trailed off.
"The other what?" Martha prompted.
"The other was destroying them." Clark looked up at his parents. "I think it might be some kind of prophecy or warning."
Jonathan sat back down heavily. "One step at a time," Martha said gently. "First, let's figure out how to help Earl. Then later tonight, maybe we can have dinner with this girl, Kyla, and her family, maybe find out what they know or are willing to share."
After making the call, Marth piled in the truck with her husband and son and headed to the hospital. They stood in front of an observation window, looking at Earl in the hospital bed, strapped down. Clark watched with concern as his body convulsed against the restraints. Jonathan stood beside him, his face etched with worry for his former employee. The doctor approached them, clipboard in hand, his expression grim.
"What's wrong with him?" Jonathan asked.
The doctor shook his head. "Well, to be honest, I don't have the faintest idea. It's amazing his body's been able to survive the seizures this long." He pulled out several transparent sheets from his clipboard. "Here, take a look at the X-rays. It looks like he's got some sort of mineral poisoning, but it's not from any mineral I've seen before."
Clark leaned in to examine the X-rays, noting the strange bright spots scattered throughout Earl's skeletal structure. "Is that why he's shaking so hard?"
"Tiny fragments are embedded under his skin. His body is slowly trying to push them out," the doctor explained, pointing to several concentrated areas on the scan.
Jonathan frowned. "How did they get in there?"
"He claims there was an explosion at the LuthorCorp plant six months ago."
His brow furrowed. "I don't remember hearing anything about that."
"That's because it didn't happen." The doctor's tone was matter-of-fact. "I pulled the plant's safety records, I checked with OSHA and the EPA."
"Doc, can I go in and talk to him by myself?"
"Go ahead. You're free to visit until Metropolis P.D. arrives tomorrow to transfer him back to the city."
"Thanks."
As Jonathan moved toward the door, Clark stepped forward. "I want to go with you."
Jonathan placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "No. Listen, you said that you felt sick when you got around him, right? Now I'm guessing that whatever he was exposed to, it's got something to do with the meteor rocks, and I don't want you passing out around here. That'd bring us a whole other set of problems."
Reluctantly nodding, he watched through the window as his father entered the room.
Earl's eyes lit up with recognition. "Jonathan. Am I glad to see you." But he looked at the window, seeing Clark, and his face fell.
"Hey, look. He's fine."
"Clark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
Clark called through the glass. "I'm fine, don't worry about it."
Jonathan pulled up a chair beside the bed. "All right, Earl. What's going on? I can't believe that you'd want to kill anybody."
"It was an accident." Earl's voice trembled like his body. "I was trying to see Lionel Luthor."
"Why?"
"Find out what they were using on Level 3."
"Earl, you're not making any sense."
"When I got that job at the Smallville plant, I was assigned to clean Level 3. They were doing these hush-hush crop experiments, a new kind of fertilizer supposed to make corn grow twice as fast. There was something in the fertilizer that was unstable. There was a huge explosion. I was cleaning at the time, and this stuff... it got under my skin. And the next thing I know, they shut it all down, and I was transferred to Metropolis. Then, two months ago, the jitters started."
"Did you see a doctor?" he asked.
"I must have seen 50. But nobody could tell me what was wrong. They needed to know what I was exposed to. But when I went back to the plant, they told me that Level 3 didn't exist. That it never had." Earl's voice grew desperate. "I got to find out what they were using. That's why I need your help. You gotta get me out of here."
"Earl, you're wanted for murder."
"No, you don't understand." Earl strained against his restraints. "I can't control it. I'm running out of time. The jitters are getting worse. It's already cost me my job, my marriage, and my baby. I gotta get back into that plant or I'm gonna die. Help me."
He stood up, his expression troubled. "You get some rest, Earl." He patted Earl's shoulder gently before leaving the room.
Clark met his father in the hallway. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"
"I have no idea."
"I've got a field trip to the LuthorCorp plant on Monday," Clark offered. "Maybe I could take a look around."
"I know that you're worried about Earl, but he's got more trouble than he can handle. I don't even know if he's in his right mind, so please don't... don't do anything."
Inside the room, Earl strained to hear their conversation through the glass.
Clark leaned closer to his father, lowering his voice to a whisper. "After the field trip, I can ask Tyson to heal him. He already offered to and would've done it if there weren't… If Chloe, Pete, and the others hadn't been there to see him use his power." He caught himself almost slipping about the party.
Jonathan whispered back, glancing cautiously at Earl. "Alright, we'll ask if his condition doesn't improve."
They headed home, and Martha prepared a nice dinner for the Kawatche girl Clark had met and her father, Joseph. The aroma of roast chicken and freshly baked bread filled the Kent farmhouse kitchen as Martha bustled about, setting the table with their good dishes.
"I hope they like chicken," Martha said, placing a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.
Jonathan straightened his collar. "I'm sure they'll appreciate whatever you've made, Martha. Your cooking could win over anyone."
The sound of tires on gravel announced their guests' arrival. Clark hurried to the door, smoothing down his flannel shirt before opening it.
Kyla stood on the porch wearing a simple blouse and jeans. Beside her stood an older man.
"Welcome," he said, stepping back to let them enter. "This is my mom and dad, Martha and Jonathan Kent."
Joseph Willowbrook extended his hand. "Thank you for inviting us into your home. I've heard much about the Kent family over the years."
"All good things, I hope," Jonathan replied with a warm smile.
Martha gestured toward the dining room. "Dinner's ready if you'd like to sit down."
They gathered around the table, and she served the meal. Clark couldn't help stealing glances at Kyla throughout dinner, admiring the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the caves. As they finished the main course, Joseph leaned forward, his expression becoming more serious. "Those caves your son stumbled upon contain our people's history."
"They're quite remarkable," Jonathan acknowledged, setting down his fork.
Joseph nodded. "According to the legend, a man came from the stars and fell in love with the mother of our people. Out of that forbidden affair, the Kawatche people were born. The legend only tells that he left one day and flew back into the sky, promising he would send another." Joseph's eyes seemed to study Clark with newfound interest.
"And that would be this Naman person you've been talking about, right?"
"Yes." Joseph smiled slightly. "Of course, that was 500 years ago. He's a little late."
Kyla looked at Clark, smiling softly. Clark smiled back, feeling a connection he couldn't quite explain.
Joseph's gaze remained fixed on Clark. "You're not from around here, are you, Clark?"
The question hung in the air for a moment too long. Martha cleared her throat. "Um, actually, Clark is adopted."
Clark quickly changed the subject, reaching for his backpack beside his chair and pulling out a notebook with sketches of the cave symbols. "These, uh, these symbols seem to make up some sort of alphabet."
"That's the really weird part," Kyla said. He smiled at her again, grateful for the shift in conversation.
Joseph examined the sketches with interest. "Our people don't have a written language. I've seen a symbol here or there on artifacts, but never in a pattern before."
"So you don't know what they mean," he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
Kyla placed her hand near his on the table. "Grandpa has studied a lot of ancient languages. I'm sure with some time, he can decipher what the symbols are."
"If Luthor doesn't get at them before we do," Joseph added.
"Maybe I can talk to Lex," he offered.
Joseph's eyebrows rose. "You know Lex Luthor?"
"Yeah, we're friends," he nodded, noticing the skepticism in Joseph's expression.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table until Jonathan cleared his throat. "So, um, does anyone want coffee with their pie?"
After dessert, Clark showed Kyla to the barn. He peered through his telescope, adjusting the focus. The night sky stretched endlessly above Smallville. He could feel her watching him.
"You want to have a look?" He offered, stepping aside from the telescope.
Kyla shook her head. "I kind of like seeing it with my own eyes." She walked past him to the open loft window.
He watched her for a moment, admiring her silhouette against the night sky. Clark followed, drawn to her quiet confidence.
"So these legends, you don't think that they're like Venus and Apollo and all the other myths?"
"Just because something's a myth doesn't make it not true." She reached for his hand, the touch sending an unexpected warmth through his fingers.
"Here. Do you see the bright one right there? If you follow the stars around it, it makes the shape of a wolf's head."
Clark followed her direction, seeing the constellation take shape before his eyes. Her hand remained on his as she gently lowered it to the window ledge, resting her hands atop his.
"See how one of the eyes is missing?" Her voice was soft, almost reverent. "Our ancestors say that there used to be a star there. That's where Naman came from."
The words weighed heavily with implication, especially after what he'd learned from Kara and the fate of Krypton.
"And what happened to it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Kyla turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his with unexpected intensity. "You tell me. You're the one who fell from the sky."
Clark's heart hammered in his chest. Her words were not an accusation, but a recognition as if she had been waiting her whole life to speak that sentence to him. They stood facing each other, the space between them charged with unspoken questions. Clark felt exposed, seen in a way that both terrified and exhilarated him. The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs broke the spell.
Clark glanced over Kyla's shoulder, startled to see Lana standing at the entrance to the loft. Her expression was unreadable as she took in the scene before her.
"Lana," Clark said, stepping back from Kyla, his voice betraying his surprise.
Her eyes darted between Clark and Kyla. "I didn't realize you had company."
Clark nodded, gathering his composure. "Lana, this is Kyla."
"Hi," she offered a polite smile. "I don't think I've seen you at school before."
Kyla returned the smile, seemingly unfazed by the interruption. "Oh, I go to Grandville. I'm just here doing research for my grandfather and rescuing any guys that happen to fall into my life."
"We met when I stumbled into these caves, under the new LuthorCorp site," Clark explained, looking guilty. Trying to move past the awkward moment, he asked, "Uh, what made you come by, Lana?"
"Sorry for intruding..." she began. "I was... ummm... just looking for Tyson. I knew you hung out earlier, and I wasn't sure if he was still around."
"He went home after we found the caves. Sorry. But thanks for helping clean up after the party. I owe you one."
"Of course, Clark. What are friends for?" She turned to Kyla. "It was nice to meet you, Kyla. Good night."
As they stood in the window, they watched Lana's silhouette growing smaller as she walked back toward her house.
"She's pretty," Kyla commented.
Clark shifted his weight, hands resting on the windowsill. "Yeah, but she doesn't see the stars the way you do."
A smile spread across Kyla's face, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she turned to face him. For a moment, she simply studied him, as if confirming something she already knew. Then she leaned forward, closing the distance between them.
Her lips met his, not hesitant but not demanding either.
Clark's initial surprise melted away as he responded to the kiss, his hand moving to rest lightly on her waist. The kiss lingered for several heartbeats before Kyla pulled back slightly.
"I've been waiting to do that since I first saw you," she admitted.
He felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He hadn't confirmed it, but Kyla believed she knew his secret, and he felt her certainty in their kiss.
— Meteor Freak —
The yellow school bus rumbled along the country road, kicking up dust as it approached the sprawling LuthorCorp facility. Concrete walls and metal fencing surrounded the industrial complex. The bus pulled into the visitor parking area, where a man in a button-down shirt and tie waited with a clipboard.
Inside the bus, Chloe Sullivan fidgeted with her camera. "Remember, this is for the Torch. We need actual information, not just the corporate propaganda tour."
"Your dad runs the place," Pete pointed out. "Isn't that going to be a problem?"
"Trust me, he's used to my journalistic integrity." Chloe tucked her camera into her bag.
Tyson sat across the aisle, watching Clark stare out the window at the facility. "You okay, man? You look like you're trying to see through walls or something."
"Just wondering what goes on in there. If there was any truth to what Earl said."
The students filed off the bus, gathering in front of the main entrance where Gabe Sullivan stood waiting with a broad smile. "Hello, everybody. I'm Gabe Sullivan, plant manager and proud father." He spotted Chloe trying to blend into the crowd. "Hi, sweetheart."
Chloe stepped behind Clark, her cheeks flushing. "Hi, Dad."
"Welcome to LuthorCorp, where we give a crap."
She groaned, covering her face. "Okay, somebody kill me now."
"A little fertilizer humor there." Gabe chuckled at his own joke, looking around at the unimpressed teenagers.
Tyson called out, "Hell yeah, I love a good dad joke."
"You would," Chloe muttered, shooting him a withering look.
Gabe clapped his hands together. "All right, before we go inside, I need you to remove all your cell phones, pagers, jewelry. Anything that jangles, dangles, or rings needs to go in these plastic trays right here." He gestured to a table where security trays waited. "All right, any other questions?"
Clark raised his hand.
"Yes?" Gabe pointed to him.
"I heard there was a third level to the plant. Is that true?"
"Yeah, yeah. That's where we do the alien autopsies." He laughed loudly. "I think we'd better get started."
"Don't encourage him," Chloe whispered.
"This way, everybody." Gabe waved them toward the entrance. "All right, people. Let's stay together."
The group moved through security, surrendering their electronics and passing through metal detectors. The interior of the plant hummed with machinery, the air tinged with chemical smells masked by industrial air fresheners.
Meanwhile, on a different floor, a man in worker's coveralls moved purposefully down a corridor. His name badge identified him as Earl Jenkins, but his face showed strain beyond normal workplace stress. His hands trembled slightly as he approached a door at the end of the hallway.
He opened it, revealing not another section of the plant but a simple janitor's closet filled with mops, buckets, and cleaning supplies. He stared in disbelief, touching the back wall as if expecting it to give way.
"No, no, no! This can't be." His voice rose with each repetition. "This can't be. This can't be. This can't be happening!" He began frantically pushing against the wall, searching for something that wasn't there. "Where is it? Where is it?! Where's the elevator?!"
Back with the tour group, Gabe led the students through the main production area. The space was filled with massive tanks and conveyor systems, workers in protective gear monitoring various stations.
"Watch out for these babies," Gabe warned, pointing to a row of processing tanks. "262 degrees. They get hot."
The students followed, with Clark trailing at the end. As they passed a side corridor, he noticed a door with an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign slowly swinging shut. He used his superspeed to slip away from the group and through the door before it closed.
Gabe continued, unaware of Clark's absence. "This is it. The plant's mission control. 100,000 tons of animal waste are processed here every year. Trust me, the results can be pretty explosive." He paused for effect. "So if any of you had beans for lunch, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The students laughed politely at the corny joke.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Among his peers, he's considered witty."
"Mm-hmm." Pete glanced around. "Where's Clark?"
A loud rattling sound came from the adjacent room. causing the students to turn toward the noise.
Gabe frowned. "What the heck? Excuse me."
He walked to the door, pushing it open. The moment he stepped through, Earl Jenkins emerged from the shadows, his face twisted with desperation. He grabbed Gabe roughly, pressing a gun against his temple.
"Don't move! Take me to Level 3. Now!"
The students gasped collectively, frozen in place as they watched their tour guide become a hostage. Chloe's face drained of color, at the sight of a gun pressed against her father's head.
"I swear, I don't know anything about Level 3," Gabe insisted, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.
Earl's face contorted with rage. "You're lying!"
"He's not lying!"
All heads turned as Clark Kent entered the room, holding a pair of rolled papers out like a peace offering. "I found these blueprints. There is no Level 3."
"So that's where you were," Tyson stage-whispered from the huddle of students. "Who's the real investigator here, Clark or Chloe?"
"Shut up before you get my dad shot," she hissed, eyes never leaving her father's face.
Earl released Gabe with a shove, snatching the blueprints from Clark's hands. He unrolled them across a nearby control panel, fingers tracing frantically over the schematics. His body convulsed with another violent tremor as he scanned the documents.
"Every night, I go down to Level 2," Earl insisted, jabbing his finger at the blueprint. "I follow the red pipes down that long hallway, I go to the door, I open it, and I take the elevator down to Level 3!" His eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto Clark's. Disappointment and betrayal flashed across his face as he realized it wasn't in the blueprints. "You're just like everybody else."
Earl swung the gun toward the group of students. Whitney Fordman stood slightly apart from the others, his letterman jacket making him stand out.
"Now you get over there," Earl yelled at Whitney, gesturing violently with the weapon. "And you sit down!"
Whitney complied immediately, backing toward the other students with his hands raised. The teenagers huddled closer together.
Gabe took a tentative step toward Earl. "Look, I've worked here for twelve years. I know every inch of this plant. I'm telling you, there is no Level 3."
Earl's body seized with another tremor, more violent than before. The gun wavered in his grip as he fought to control the spasm. "Then what's happening to me?" he demanded. "I'm not crazy. I know what I saw. I know what they did to me!"
The fluorescent lights reflected off the sweat on Earl's face as another tremor hit him, this one strong enough to make him stumble against a valve. As he tried to steady himself, his hand ripped the knob off, triggering an automated voice announcement.
"Warning. Pressure building in Methane Tank Five."
Outside the plant's fences, a crowd had gathered of worried parents, news vans, and police officers who'd established a perimeter. Jonathan and Martha Kent pushed their way to the front of the crowd, anxiety etched across their faces.
"We need to find out if they're all right," he called out. "When we send our kids on a field trip, we'd like to believe that they're going to be safe. If you can't do it, then we need to do it!"
The suited man barely glanced their way before returning to his clipboard. A car horn blared as a silver Porsche approached the gate. Security personnel scrambled to move barriers aside, allowing the vehicle through. The driver's door swung open, and Lex Luthor emerged. After a brief word with security, Lex turned and pointed toward the Kents. "Let these two in. Just these two."
The gate opened reluctantly, and Jonathan and Martha hurried through, ignoring the protests from other parents. His face was tight with concern as they approached Lex.
"All right, what's going on here?" he demanded.
Lex guided them toward a command tent set up near the main entrance. "There's a lunatic inside demanding to be taken to some place called Level 3. We've managed to evacuate the plant, but he's taken the students hostage."
Martha's hand flew to her mouth. "Is anyone hurt?"
"Not yet."
His brow furrowed. "What's his name?"
"Earl Jenkins."
"I know Earl Jenkins," he said, "He used to work for us."
Lex turned sharply. "Well, what's he doing in my plant?"
"Well, he claims that LuthorCorp is doing some crop experiments on some secret Level 3, and that's what made him sick. He's convinced that it's the only place he can get a cure."
"Then we've got a serious problem. Because there is no Level 3."
They gathered around a screen showing the control room. Earl paced nervously, gun in hand, while the students sat huddled against the wall. Gabe Sullivan stood protectively near his daughter while Clark remained calm.
Lex's phone rang. He glanced at the screen.
"Who's that?" Martha asked.
"My father." Lex's jaw tightened as he answered, putting the call on speaker. "Hello?"
"Lex!" Lionel Luthor's voice filled the tent, sharp and accusatory. "How did you allow this to happen?"
"I didn't allow anything," Lex replied.
"Then how did this man get inside?"
"I think—"
"You think?" Lionel interrupted. "Why don't you know, Lex?" After a pause, he asked, "What's your assessment of this lunatic?"
Lex glanced over. "I've got Jonathan Kent here, his former employer."
"It's been a long time, but I remember your name," Lionel said, his tone softening marginally.
"The Kent's son is inside, and they know the gunman personally," Lex explained.
"He's sick, he's desperate, and he blames your plant for his condition."
"This Level 3 nonsense?" Lionel scoffed.
"I've assured everyone there is no Level 3. That is the truth, isn't it?"
"Of course it is," Lionel replied smoothly.
Jonathan's patience visibly thinned. "People's lives are at stake, including my son's. What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to let Lex handle this situation," Lionel announced. "Effective immediately, Lex Luthor is in charge of all Smallville LuthorCorp holdings. My recommendation would be to let SWAT do their job. When he makes a mistake, they'll move in. But the decision is ultimately Lex's."
"Now? Really, Dad?" He paced away from the Kents, lowering his voice. "You've spent the last three months telling me how incompetent I am, how I'm squandering my potential in this backwater town, and now suddenly you're handing me control during a hostage crisis?"
"Consider it a test, son," Lionel replied. "You wanted responsibility. Here it is."
"This isn't about responsibility," Lex hissed. "This is about liability. If things go wrong, you need someone to blame."
"Such cynicism," Lionel chuckled. "Perhaps you're more like me than either of us cares to admit."
"I'm nothing like you."
"Then prove it. Save those children, protect the company assets, and do it without giving in to the demands of a madman. Show me you're worthy of the Luthor name."
"I don't need your approval."
"No? Then why are you still in Smallville? Why take this job at all? Deep down, you still crave my validation, Lex. You always have."
Lex's jaw clenched. "When this is over—"
"When this is over," Lionel interrupted, "you'll either have proven yourself capable of handling real responsibility, or you'll have demonstrated why I was right to doubt you all along. The choice is yours."
Martha approached, her patience exhausted. "What about the kids?" she demanded, pulling Lex back to the immediate crisis. "You need to get on the phone and talk to him!"
"Mrs. Kent, I understand how you feel. I want everyone to walk out of there alive, too, but LuthorCorp does not negotiate with terrorists."
"He's not a terrorist!" She fired back. "He's sick and he needs help! If you won't talk to him, then Jonathan will!"
Lex studied the monitor, watching Earl's increasingly erratic movements.
Inside the Control Room, Tyson, Clark, Pete, Jody, Lana, and Whitney stood in a small circle. Chloe was hugging her father, while Earl paced restlessly, his body seizing with tremors every few minutes.
Whitney leaned forward, voice low but urgent. "We can take him, with the four of us, we can do it."
Lana grabbed his arm. "Whitney, stop it, you're going to get shot."
"Yeah, just stop, Whitney. You're still concussed," Tyson said, eyeing the former quarterback. "We're definitely not using your plan. We're using mine."
Jody asked, "And what is your plan?"
"I'm going to convince him to let everyone go."
Everyone stared at Tyson like he was dumb.
Pete shook his head. "Maybe Whitney's plan was better."
"Give me two minutes to talk him down," he insisted. "If it fails, we'll go with plan B." He stood without waiting for the others to answer.
Tyson wasn't sure he could actually talk down Earl. But what he could do was use the power he took from Desiree Atkins to make him release everyone. The problem with the power was that Desiree used her pheromones by kissing. But he had no real desire or opportunity to kiss Earl. He'd seen Desiree use her power from a distance, but he hadn't practiced doing that, or using it at all. Still, if she could do it, he should be able to do it.
Clark grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me," Tyson whispered, pulling free.
He walked slowly toward Earl, hands raised to show he wasn't a threat. Earl swung the gun toward him, eyes wild with desperation.
"Stay back!" Earl warned, his voice cracking.
"Earl," Tyson began, keeping his voice calm and steady. "I need you to listen to me for just a minute. That's all I'm asking."
Earl's finger twitched on the trigger. "Why should I?"
"Because we're all in danger right now, and I think I understand what you're going through." Tyson took a careful step forward. "I know what it's like to feel something changing inside you, something you can't control."
As Tyson spoke, he concentrated on the feeling he'd experienced when absorbing Desiree's power, that warm, tingling sensation that had spread through his chest. He focused on directing it outward, through his words.
"The methane leak is getting worse. Those tanks could rupture any minute. If that happens, none of us will make it out alive. Not you, not me, not anyone. And then you'll never get the answers you're looking for about Level 3."
Earl's eyes darted to the warning lights, then back to Tyson. "They're lying to me. They've always been lying."
"Maybe they are," he conceded, taking another step closer. "But these kids aren't. They're innocent. They don't deserve to be caught in the middle of this."
Tyson felt a strange warmth in his throat, a tingling sensation that spread to his lips. He leaned into the feeling, willing it to manifest.
"I understand your pain, Earl. I can see how much you're suffering. Those tremors, they're getting worse. If you don't remember, but I was the one who called the ambulance for you back at the Kents. You need help, and keeping these students hostage isn't going to get you that."
A faint pink mist began to emanate from his mouth as he spoke, so subtle it was barely visible to anyone but him. It drifted toward Earl, who seemed not to notice as he inhaled.
"What you need is someone who will listen, someone who will believe you. I believe you, Earl. I believe something happened to you in this plant. I believe you saw something on Level 3."
"You do?"
"Yes," he continued, the pink mist growing more pronounced with each word. "And I want to help you find the truth. But we can't do that with all these people here. The authorities outside are not going to listen as long as you're holding kids hostage. They'll just see you as a threat that needs to be eliminated."
Earl breathed in more of the mist, but it didn't seem to be working. Tyson pressed his advantage, anyway.
"Let them go, Earl. Let all of them walk out of here safely. Keep me instead. I'll stay with you. I'll help you find Level 3. I'll make sure they listen to your story. Lex Luthor knows me. I actually dated his sister, Kara, and Lionel Luther approved of me, as much of a longshot as that was. I'm the only student here who has a strong connection to the Luthers."
The pink mist swirled around Earl's face, entering his nostrils and parted lips. But still, he seemed unfazed.
"These kids have families waiting for them. Parents who are terrified right now. Think about how you'd feel if it were your child in here. They don't deserve this, Earl. They're not responsible for what happened to you."
Tyson gestured toward Chloe and her father. "Look at them. That's a father and his daughter. He just wants to protect her, the same way you'd protect someone you love."
Earl's gaze followed Tyson's gesture to see Gabe holding Chloe protectively.
"You're not a bad person, Earl. You're just someone who's been hurt, who needs help. Let me be that help. Let me stay while everyone else goes free. I promise I won't leave you. I'll stand by your side until we get to the bottom of this."
The pink mist had completely enveloped Earl now, but to Tyson's chagrin, he still seemed unaffected.
"What do you say, Earl? Will you let them go? Will you trust me to help you?"
Earl nodded slowly, lowering his gun. "Okay. They can go." He turned to the group of students. "All of you, get out. Now."
Gabe stepped forward cautiously. "What about the boy?"
"He stays," Earl said firmly. "He's going to help me find Level 3."
Chloe looked at Tyson with wide, disbelieving eyes. "You can't be serious."
"Go," Tyson urged them. "The methane leak is getting worse. Everyone needs to get out while they still can."
Clark hesitated, clearly torn between leaving and staying to help.
"I'll be fine," Tyson assured him with a meaningful look. "Trust me."
The students began filing toward the exit, casting worried glances back at Tyson. Clark was the last to leave, his eyes locked with Tyson's in silent communication.
As the door closed behind them, Tyson said, "Now, let's talk about Level 3."
Then the phone rang.
Tyson glanced at Earl, whose trembling hand still clutched the gun. "Mind if I pick up?" he asked casually.
Earl waved the gun in the general direction of the phone. "Go ahead. But no tricks."
Tyson reached for the receiver, bringing it to his ear. "Hello?"
"This is Lex Luthor."
"Hey Lex, it's Tyson, your future potential brother-in-law here," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I just convinced my buddy Earl to let all the hostages go. In exchange, I'm going to help him find Level 3."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "I'm not sure how you did that. But good work. Bad news is, there is no Level 3."
"We'll circle back to that when it comes to it. But in the meantime, can you reassure my buddy Earl that I'm being cooperative, that you're willing to work with him, and give us some time? Oh, and tell him that I dated your hot sister, too, to give me a little street cred."
Earl's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you saying to him?"
"Just making sure we get the time we need," Tyson replied, holding out the phone. "Here, Lex wants to talk to you."
Earl snatched the receiver. "Luthor? You listen to me. I know what I saw. I know what happened to me in your plant."
Tyson couldn't hear exactly what Lex was saying on the other end, but he watched Earl's face carefully. The man's expression shifted from anger to confusion to something resembling hope. Whatever Lex was telling him seemed to be working.
"Fine," Earl finally said. "But if you're lying..." He let the threat hang in the air before hanging up the phone.
"So?" Tyson prompted.
"He says you're trustworthy. Says you might actually be able to help me." A bitter laugh escaped. "Also said something about you dating his sister. That's true?"
"Kara Luthor," Tyson confirmed with a nod. "We had a thing."
Earl seemed satisfied. "Alright then. Let's find Level 3."
"Lead the way," Tyson gestured. "Show me where it used to be."
"I follow the red pipes down that long hallway," he explained, pointing to overhead pipes painted a bright crimson. "I go to the door. But now there's a wall there."
They followed the pipes through several corridors until they reached what appeared to be a dead end. A solid cinderblock wall stood where Earl clearly expected an entrance to be.
"See?" Earl's voice cracked with frustration. "They covered it up! It was right here. The elevator to Level 3 was right here!"
Tyson examined the wall, running his fingers along the surface. It looked permanent, but the paint was slightly newer than the surrounding walls, the mortar lines too perfect.
"Simple solution. We break down the wall."
"With what?"
Without answering, Tyson cocked his fist back and punched forward. With the strength provided by Greg Arkin and Jeremy Creek, he was able to punch through the cinderblock wall with no problem. Chunks crumbled away, revealing a space behind it.
"How?" Earl gasped, his eyes wide with shock.
Tyson shook concrete dust from his hand, flexing his fingers. "You aren't the only one who was affected by the weird stuff in this town. Don't tell anyone, though, our secret."
As more of the wall fell away, the outline of elevator doors became visible, exactly where Earl had claimed they would be.
"We found it," Tyson announced, turning to Earl with a triumphant smile. "So, how about you hand over that gun? We've discovered the truth."
Earl stared at the elevator, his expression a mixture of vindication and despair. "It won't do any good," he mumbled, his voice hollow. "LuthorCorp would be exposed, but it wouldn't help me get better. I'm going to die, and my kid will be left without a dad."
Tyson put his hand on Earl's shoulder and gently took the gun from his trembling fingers, slipping it into his waistband. "Nah, it'll all work out. Trust me."
He flipped open his locket and touched the meteor rock inside.
"What are you doing?" Earl asked, his voice weak and confused.
"Helping you," Tyson replied simply.
He placed his palm firmly on Earl's chest and channeled the electricity he'd absorbed from Jeremy Creek. The blue-white energy crackled between them, causing Earl to seize up and begin shaking violently. But this was different from his normal tremors; this was Tyson creating a connection, finding the source of Earl's affliction.
The energy flowed through Earl's body, illuminating him from within like a lightning rod. Tyson could feel it now, the foreign energy signature, similar yet distinct from the meteor powers he'd encountered before. It was embedded deep in Earl's cells, causing the constant tremors that wracked his body. Tyson gritted his teeth and pulled, not gently as he had with other powers, but with a harsh, wrenching motion. This power felt wrong, toxic, like pulling poison from a wound. The energy resisted, clinging to Earl's body as though it had fused with him.
"Come on," Tyson growled, increasing the intensity of his electricity.
Earl's body convulsed, his back arching as Tyson yanked harder. Finally, the energy began to separate, a sickly yellow-green glow rising from Earl's skin like steam. Tyson directed it away from both of them, releasing it into the air where it dissipated in crackling wisps.
Earl collapsed to his knees, his body still shaking but differently now. No longer the violent, uncontrollable tremors, but something more akin to normal seizures. Tyson knelt beside him, placing one hand on Earl's forehead and the other over his heart. Drawing on the healing energy he'd absorbed from Cyrus, he channeled a gentle, golden warmth into the man's body.
The effect was immediate. Earl's seizing slowed, then stopped completely. His tense muscles relaxed, and his breathing, which had been rapid and shallow, deepened and steadied. Color returned to his ashen face as he looked up at Tyson with clear eyes for the first time.
"What did you do to me?" Earl whispered, his voice steady and free from pain.
"I took it out," Tyson said simply. "Whatever they did to you in there, whatever was causing those tremors, it's gone now."
Earl raised his hands, staring at them in wonder as they remained perfectly still. "How is this possible?"
"Like I said," Tyson helped him to his feet, "you're not the only one affected by the weird stuff in this town."
— Meteor Freak —
As Tyson and Earl emerged from the plant, the bright midday sun momentarily blinded them. Emergency vehicles crowded the parking lot. Paramedics rushed forward, taking Earl gently by the arms and guiding him toward a waiting ambulance.
"I'm fine," Earl insisted, his voice stronger than it had been in months. "Really, I'm fine." They checked Earl's vitals, but found nothing physically wrong with him beyond mild dehydration and exhaustion.
Clark broke away from his parents and jogged over. "What happened in there? How did you get him to let everyone go?"
"Just used my natural charm. And punched through a wall to find a secret elevator."
Clark's eyes widened. "You found Level 3?"
"Yep. Turns out Earl wasn't crazy after all. There really was a Level 3, just like he said."
Before Clark could respond, Chloe appeared, notepad in hand and eyes gleaming with journalistic fervor. "Tyson! I need details for the Torch. What was down there? What did you see?"
"Sorry, Chloe. I never actually went down. Just found the entrance."
Pete joined them, slapping Tyson on the back. "Man, that was either the bravest or the stupidest thing I've ever seen. Probably both."
Lana approached more cautiously. "Are you okay? We were all so worried."
"Never better. Though I wouldn't mind some of that mediocre coffee you mentioned."
The moment was interrupted by reporters swarming toward Lex Luthor, who stood near the plant entrance, his expression carefully composed.
"Mr. Luthor!" A female reporter thrust her microphone forward.
"Mr. Luthor, what can you tell us about Level 3?" Another shouted, jostling for position.
Lex raised his hands slightly, calling for calm. "Level 3 is a redundant storage area at the base of the plant," he explained smoothly. "Mr. Jenkins is a very sick man who desperately needs medical attention. That's why I have pledged to find him the best medical care possible. He was a LuthorCorp employee, and here at LuthorCorp, we always put family first."
Lex paused, his gaze drifting over to where Clark stood with his parents, their arms wrapped around each other in a tight family embrace. Martha was crying, and Jonathan looked ten years older. Then his eyes found Tyson, who stood slightly apart from the others. Tyson caught his look and flashed him a thumbs up, a gesture so casual it seemed almost inappropriate given the gravity of what had just occurred.
Lex wasn't sure what to think of the young man. Tyson had somehow gotten into Kara's good graces, which was rare. He'd also allowed Lex to save face after his disastrous wedding to Desiree, and before that had saved her from the fire in her classroom. He'd talked down a sick madman, discovered his father's secret research area, and seemingly somehow impossibly helped cure the man…
All the while making jokes.
Kara hadn't said what drew her to Tyson, but now, he wondered if there was more to him than Lex initially believed. But for now, he continued answering questions, working on PR. After all, Smallville operations were his problem. And thanks to Tyson's intervention, he'd pass his father's test.