Chapter 2
Clark heaved the bales of hay onto the flatbed truck. The cows will be needing them, since weeks of dry weather turned the pasture into an ugly shade of beige. He looked across the Kent farm. He loved Smallville: the sense of community, neighbors helping neighbors. He saw his dad repairing the steps to the farmhouse. One day he will have to tell him that he's leaving Smallville.
Clark loved to write. To work as a writer, he would need to move out of the state. He asked the guidance counsellor for brochures from some of excellent journalism schools in the country. Columbia. Stanford. Gotham State. University of Metropolis.
Chloe was well on her way to achieving her dream. She sent several emails a week describing the gruelling night shift at the Daily Planet. As an intern, she got all the crappy, graveyard shift jobs no one wanted. Answering phones. Photocopying. Sorting letters to the editor. She phoned him when she FINALLY got a chance to do some actual journalism work. Of course it was research for a story on Luthor Corp. 'With files from Chloe Sullivan,' it said in the article. A small step on the road to likely a great career.
I'll have my turn soon enough, he told himself. He had leads of his own. Bruce Wayne - Gotham City's leading citizen, philanthropist and alleged ladies man – provided Clark with some freelance work. Editing speeches, press releases, etc. on behalf of Wayne Corp. The work had fizzled out by the 1st of August. He hadn't heard from Bruce in over a week. Clark could sense that something was going on. He's probably worried about work or those renovations to his basement, Clark thought. He tossed the bales of hay and stopped again to look across the farmlands.
A bright neon green car came around the concession road and stopped on the dirt road a few feet from the field. The door opened, revealing a tall, stunning woman – probably 23 or 24 – with flaming red hair.
"Hi," the woman asked, "Is there a motel or a bed and breakfast spot around here?"
"There's a Red Roof inn about 10 miles south of here and a Holiday Inn in Smallville." Then Clark remembered her. She had shoved a microphone in Chloe's face just after the foiled attempt on Bruce's life in July.
"You're THE Summer Gleeson. GCTV crime reporter!" He exclaimed. Uh-oh. She probably wants dirt on Lex. Or me, the 'farmboy' who jumped into the bullet's path, narrowly escaping injury. Clark still kept the shattered bullet casing as a reminder of his Gotham adventures.
Summer eyed the farmhand and also recognized him. "Clark Kent. The farmboy who stared danger in the eye and risked his life for Bruce Wayne. You're just the person I was looking for."
Great, Clark lamented, the last thing I want is to become the lead story on the six o'clock news.
[Lex's estate]
Lex received a call from Metropolis. It was one of the family's attorneys.
"The Daily Planet is probing the money trail? I don't see how that affects us. Well, yes, we do have a branch office in the Ukraine, but ... Russian mob? Not surprised on that front. Bruce has ruffled a few feathers with his hostility towards the illegal arms trade."
Lex was clearly getting bored with all the legal claptrap. God, I hate lawyers, he thought. A necessary evil. Someone has to watch his corporate butt.
Then his jaw dropped. "GCTV is sending someone here? They're here already?? What do you mean you only knew until this morning!?!" He abruptly hung up the phone.
It's Father. Lionel Luthor had taken charge of the company's eastern European contracts. Lex didn't dispute his dad's involvement in the arms trade. Everything has a price, Lionel told his son, we as businessmen have the power to set that price and profit from it. What Lex despised was the quality of the so-called trading partners his father met in that region. You're judged by the company you keep and Father's company of late lacked the finesse and prestige Lex preferred in his partners.
Now his father's wavering character judgment was starting to bleed into Luthor's Corp's operations. He remembered the frenzied media mobbing Bruce, Clark and Chloe during the assassination attempt in July.
Those muckrackers may get away with that in Gotham, but I won't have it here in Smallville. Father may not care how his actions affect Lex in this sleepy town, but Lex DID care.
Lex made another call. "GCTV is an affiliate of a Big Three network, correct? Get the network's chairman on the line. I want to be ready in the event we have to run with the ball on a libel suit."
This isn't Gotham, Lex told himself, I pull the strings around here.
Clark heaved the bales of hay onto the flatbed truck. The cows will be needing them, since weeks of dry weather turned the pasture into an ugly shade of beige. He looked across the Kent farm. He loved Smallville: the sense of community, neighbors helping neighbors. He saw his dad repairing the steps to the farmhouse. One day he will have to tell him that he's leaving Smallville.
Clark loved to write. To work as a writer, he would need to move out of the state. He asked the guidance counsellor for brochures from some of excellent journalism schools in the country. Columbia. Stanford. Gotham State. University of Metropolis.
Chloe was well on her way to achieving her dream. She sent several emails a week describing the gruelling night shift at the Daily Planet. As an intern, she got all the crappy, graveyard shift jobs no one wanted. Answering phones. Photocopying. Sorting letters to the editor. She phoned him when she FINALLY got a chance to do some actual journalism work. Of course it was research for a story on Luthor Corp. 'With files from Chloe Sullivan,' it said in the article. A small step on the road to likely a great career.
I'll have my turn soon enough, he told himself. He had leads of his own. Bruce Wayne - Gotham City's leading citizen, philanthropist and alleged ladies man – provided Clark with some freelance work. Editing speeches, press releases, etc. on behalf of Wayne Corp. The work had fizzled out by the 1st of August. He hadn't heard from Bruce in over a week. Clark could sense that something was going on. He's probably worried about work or those renovations to his basement, Clark thought. He tossed the bales of hay and stopped again to look across the farmlands.
A bright neon green car came around the concession road and stopped on the dirt road a few feet from the field. The door opened, revealing a tall, stunning woman – probably 23 or 24 – with flaming red hair.
"Hi," the woman asked, "Is there a motel or a bed and breakfast spot around here?"
"There's a Red Roof inn about 10 miles south of here and a Holiday Inn in Smallville." Then Clark remembered her. She had shoved a microphone in Chloe's face just after the foiled attempt on Bruce's life in July.
"You're THE Summer Gleeson. GCTV crime reporter!" He exclaimed. Uh-oh. She probably wants dirt on Lex. Or me, the 'farmboy' who jumped into the bullet's path, narrowly escaping injury. Clark still kept the shattered bullet casing as a reminder of his Gotham adventures.
Summer eyed the farmhand and also recognized him. "Clark Kent. The farmboy who stared danger in the eye and risked his life for Bruce Wayne. You're just the person I was looking for."
Great, Clark lamented, the last thing I want is to become the lead story on the six o'clock news.
[Lex's estate]
Lex received a call from Metropolis. It was one of the family's attorneys.
"The Daily Planet is probing the money trail? I don't see how that affects us. Well, yes, we do have a branch office in the Ukraine, but ... Russian mob? Not surprised on that front. Bruce has ruffled a few feathers with his hostility towards the illegal arms trade."
Lex was clearly getting bored with all the legal claptrap. God, I hate lawyers, he thought. A necessary evil. Someone has to watch his corporate butt.
Then his jaw dropped. "GCTV is sending someone here? They're here already?? What do you mean you only knew until this morning!?!" He abruptly hung up the phone.
It's Father. Lionel Luthor had taken charge of the company's eastern European contracts. Lex didn't dispute his dad's involvement in the arms trade. Everything has a price, Lionel told his son, we as businessmen have the power to set that price and profit from it. What Lex despised was the quality of the so-called trading partners his father met in that region. You're judged by the company you keep and Father's company of late lacked the finesse and prestige Lex preferred in his partners.
Now his father's wavering character judgment was starting to bleed into Luthor's Corp's operations. He remembered the frenzied media mobbing Bruce, Clark and Chloe during the assassination attempt in July.
Those muckrackers may get away with that in Gotham, but I won't have it here in Smallville. Father may not care how his actions affect Lex in this sleepy town, but Lex DID care.
Lex made another call. "GCTV is an affiliate of a Big Three network, correct? Get the network's chairman on the line. I want to be ready in the event we have to run with the ball on a libel suit."
This isn't Gotham, Lex told himself, I pull the strings around here.