Chapter 2
Jonathon Kent looked sadly at the fields of livestock in front of him from his post atop of a small hill. The sun was low in the sky, but as a farmer, that didn't matter to him. Clark spotted him and walked up to him. He could tell that there was something wrong. "Dad?"
"Son? What time is it?" asked Jonathon, snapping out of his trance.
"It's almost seven. I came out to do my chores when I saw you up here. There something wrong?"
Jonathon gazed back out at the cows again, and Clark saw what he was looking at. A mauled cow was lying on its side, surrounded by other cows that went along their business. The head was gruesomely torn off and lay a few feet away. Intestines and stomachs were scattered all around. Even Clark thought that he would vomit from the sight, but instead he looked at his father. "What happened?"
"I don't know, but if anything could do that to one cow, I can't imagine what we would do if it came back for the others," said Jonathon. "Why don't you go get ready for school, huh?"
Clark nodded and went back into the house.
* * *
Edward's first class of the day, Algebra II, was with Chloe Sullivan, editor of the Smallville High school newspaper – the Torch. They sat next to each other, and Chloe immediately grew an interest in him (a professional one, of course).
"Gotham City? What's it like there? Is it really true that it's held up by statues of angels?" asked Chloe.
Edward chuckled, "No, of course not. There's a park in town square with four angel statues looking in each direction: North, East, South, and West. Most people think that the angels hold up all the highways and bridges because they saw pictures of them holding up a miniature city. The rest of it's pretty modern. No weird buildings shaped like gargoyles or anything like that. What about Metropolis?
"Metropolis? Nothing at all like this little hick town. Skyscrapers that touch the sky; buildings that kind of resemble something you'd see in a movie about the future; the Daily Planet; all sorts of stuff there. At night, it looks beautiful, like the night sky lowers into the city and all the lights that are still on in the buildings look like stars," told Chloe. "And it has the best police squad in America."
"No way, that's Central City."
"Please, their CPD couldn't catch a cold. Wait, that joke is really old."
Their teacher interrupted them and instructed them to get out there notebooks and a pencil. Edward searched his jacket pockets for a pencil, and for the first time Chloe noticed all the dark brown fur on him.
"Shedding?" she asked.
Edward blushed and frantically brushed the fur off of him. "No, I have a dog. He must have slept on the jacket or something..."
And that was the moment when Chloe saw the Smallville mark of WEIRD etched onto Edward's face. As much as she hated suspecting someone for a tiny thing like that, journalism always came first.
* * *
"If I ever have to listen to Mr. Thompson rant on about Patriotism ever again, I'm moving to Canada," Pete told Lana as they walked down the hall.
"You got to respect that man. He was in the Vietnam War; he's a veteran," reminded Lana. "He fought for this country."
"Well that's great and all – I'll respect that – but I, personally, would prefer to serve the country behind the relative safety of a desk. Imagine it: President Ross," suggested Pete.
"It's got a nice ring to it. But set your sight a little bit lower."
"Vice-President Ross?"
"Congressman Ross."
"I can do better than that. Senator Ross."
"I admire your interest in your own future, Mr. Ross," said a voice from behind the two teens. "But I must suggest that you hurry on to your next class. The bell rings in a couple of minutes."
"Principal Reynolds!" they said in unison. Pete spoke up, "All right, sir. But tell me, how high do you think I could get in political power?"
Principal Reynolds smiled, "For all we know, you could be dictator of the world. But just consider Principal Peter Ross as a career goal. Now, move along."
"Yes, sir." When Principal Reynolds turned away to scold a child for eating in the hallways, Pete whispered to Lana, "I think President Ross is better."
"Whatever you say, Pete," giggled Lana. She waved good-bye to her friend as she took a right and left for her next class just as Clark joined up with Pete.
"Hey, Pete. I thought you'd still be showing Edward around," noted Clark.
"That stuck-up guy?"
"Chloe doesn't seem to think he's stuck up." Ahead of them, Chloe and Edward were walking together towards them. Chloe waved hello to them, pointed Edward in the direction of his next class, and joined up with Clark and Pete.
"New guy's pretty cool," noticed Chloe.
"Translation: you're going to investigate him, aren't you, Chloe?" asked Pete.
"Can you blame me? All the guys I date mostly turn out to be homicidal freaks." Clark flinched, but Chloe pressed on. "I like this guy, yet, I want to be absolutely sure he hasn't been messing around with meteor rocks and sprouting wings."
"That would be cool. Flying, I mean," said Clark shyly.
"Yeah, especially if you didn't need wings. I'm off to the Torch office. My second period teacher lets me go there on Thursdays," announced Chloe proudly.
"So you've reminded us. C'mon, Clark. Time for the wonders of Trigonometry."
Clark followed Pete silently.
* * *
"Dad, who is Sara Drake?" asked Lex as he came into Lionel Luthor's luxury office.
"A botanist. She's working in the...LuthorCare division," replied Lionel without looking up from the papers he was inspecting.
"Making nearly as much as me?"
"That money's for research purposes. Funding, I suppose. She has a family to support, and you, well..."
Lex pretended to be hurt, "Ouch, dad. I didn't think either of my marriages were as bad as yours."
Lionel flinched. "Your first wife controlled you and the second left you for dead on a falling plane. I'm glad you didn't spend your life permanently with either of them. Can you blame me for wishing you'd never married at all?"
"Yeah, that would of kept me out of the tabloids, huh? Dad, what is Mrs. Sara Drake working on?"
"That's top secret." Lionel put his signature on a paper. He shuffled around and found a folder, which he looked through. His act wasn't fooling Lex; Lionel was trying to act busy so he wouldn't have to answer any questions,
"I'm the heir to LuthorCorp, aren't I? Don't I deserve to know? Maybe you'd like to put me in charge?"
Lionel finally glanced up at Lex. "Is that what this is about? You want to be in charge of a project?"
Lex shrugged, "We have a lot of them. I'm sure you could find one just lying around, wasting away..."
Lionel sighed. He slammed down his pen and opened a cabinet on the left side of his desk, pulling out a folder with a considerable amount of papers inside. "I'll sign over control to you later. In the meantime, why don't you look through the summary...in your own office."
Lex nodded and left Lionel's office. Lionel tried, but couldn't repress a chuckle once he was gone.
Jonathon Kent looked sadly at the fields of livestock in front of him from his post atop of a small hill. The sun was low in the sky, but as a farmer, that didn't matter to him. Clark spotted him and walked up to him. He could tell that there was something wrong. "Dad?"
"Son? What time is it?" asked Jonathon, snapping out of his trance.
"It's almost seven. I came out to do my chores when I saw you up here. There something wrong?"
Jonathon gazed back out at the cows again, and Clark saw what he was looking at. A mauled cow was lying on its side, surrounded by other cows that went along their business. The head was gruesomely torn off and lay a few feet away. Intestines and stomachs were scattered all around. Even Clark thought that he would vomit from the sight, but instead he looked at his father. "What happened?"
"I don't know, but if anything could do that to one cow, I can't imagine what we would do if it came back for the others," said Jonathon. "Why don't you go get ready for school, huh?"
Clark nodded and went back into the house.
* * *
Edward's first class of the day, Algebra II, was with Chloe Sullivan, editor of the Smallville High school newspaper – the Torch. They sat next to each other, and Chloe immediately grew an interest in him (a professional one, of course).
"Gotham City? What's it like there? Is it really true that it's held up by statues of angels?" asked Chloe.
Edward chuckled, "No, of course not. There's a park in town square with four angel statues looking in each direction: North, East, South, and West. Most people think that the angels hold up all the highways and bridges because they saw pictures of them holding up a miniature city. The rest of it's pretty modern. No weird buildings shaped like gargoyles or anything like that. What about Metropolis?
"Metropolis? Nothing at all like this little hick town. Skyscrapers that touch the sky; buildings that kind of resemble something you'd see in a movie about the future; the Daily Planet; all sorts of stuff there. At night, it looks beautiful, like the night sky lowers into the city and all the lights that are still on in the buildings look like stars," told Chloe. "And it has the best police squad in America."
"No way, that's Central City."
"Please, their CPD couldn't catch a cold. Wait, that joke is really old."
Their teacher interrupted them and instructed them to get out there notebooks and a pencil. Edward searched his jacket pockets for a pencil, and for the first time Chloe noticed all the dark brown fur on him.
"Shedding?" she asked.
Edward blushed and frantically brushed the fur off of him. "No, I have a dog. He must have slept on the jacket or something..."
And that was the moment when Chloe saw the Smallville mark of WEIRD etched onto Edward's face. As much as she hated suspecting someone for a tiny thing like that, journalism always came first.
* * *
"If I ever have to listen to Mr. Thompson rant on about Patriotism ever again, I'm moving to Canada," Pete told Lana as they walked down the hall.
"You got to respect that man. He was in the Vietnam War; he's a veteran," reminded Lana. "He fought for this country."
"Well that's great and all – I'll respect that – but I, personally, would prefer to serve the country behind the relative safety of a desk. Imagine it: President Ross," suggested Pete.
"It's got a nice ring to it. But set your sight a little bit lower."
"Vice-President Ross?"
"Congressman Ross."
"I can do better than that. Senator Ross."
"I admire your interest in your own future, Mr. Ross," said a voice from behind the two teens. "But I must suggest that you hurry on to your next class. The bell rings in a couple of minutes."
"Principal Reynolds!" they said in unison. Pete spoke up, "All right, sir. But tell me, how high do you think I could get in political power?"
Principal Reynolds smiled, "For all we know, you could be dictator of the world. But just consider Principal Peter Ross as a career goal. Now, move along."
"Yes, sir." When Principal Reynolds turned away to scold a child for eating in the hallways, Pete whispered to Lana, "I think President Ross is better."
"Whatever you say, Pete," giggled Lana. She waved good-bye to her friend as she took a right and left for her next class just as Clark joined up with Pete.
"Hey, Pete. I thought you'd still be showing Edward around," noted Clark.
"That stuck-up guy?"
"Chloe doesn't seem to think he's stuck up." Ahead of them, Chloe and Edward were walking together towards them. Chloe waved hello to them, pointed Edward in the direction of his next class, and joined up with Clark and Pete.
"New guy's pretty cool," noticed Chloe.
"Translation: you're going to investigate him, aren't you, Chloe?" asked Pete.
"Can you blame me? All the guys I date mostly turn out to be homicidal freaks." Clark flinched, but Chloe pressed on. "I like this guy, yet, I want to be absolutely sure he hasn't been messing around with meteor rocks and sprouting wings."
"That would be cool. Flying, I mean," said Clark shyly.
"Yeah, especially if you didn't need wings. I'm off to the Torch office. My second period teacher lets me go there on Thursdays," announced Chloe proudly.
"So you've reminded us. C'mon, Clark. Time for the wonders of Trigonometry."
Clark followed Pete silently.
* * *
"Dad, who is Sara Drake?" asked Lex as he came into Lionel Luthor's luxury office.
"A botanist. She's working in the...LuthorCare division," replied Lionel without looking up from the papers he was inspecting.
"Making nearly as much as me?"
"That money's for research purposes. Funding, I suppose. She has a family to support, and you, well..."
Lex pretended to be hurt, "Ouch, dad. I didn't think either of my marriages were as bad as yours."
Lionel flinched. "Your first wife controlled you and the second left you for dead on a falling plane. I'm glad you didn't spend your life permanently with either of them. Can you blame me for wishing you'd never married at all?"
"Yeah, that would of kept me out of the tabloids, huh? Dad, what is Mrs. Sara Drake working on?"
"That's top secret." Lionel put his signature on a paper. He shuffled around and found a folder, which he looked through. His act wasn't fooling Lex; Lionel was trying to act busy so he wouldn't have to answer any questions,
"I'm the heir to LuthorCorp, aren't I? Don't I deserve to know? Maybe you'd like to put me in charge?"
Lionel finally glanced up at Lex. "Is that what this is about? You want to be in charge of a project?"
Lex shrugged, "We have a lot of them. I'm sure you could find one just lying around, wasting away..."
Lionel sighed. He slammed down his pen and opened a cabinet on the left side of his desk, pulling out a folder with a considerable amount of papers inside. "I'll sign over control to you later. In the meantime, why don't you look through the summary...in your own office."
Lex nodded and left Lionel's office. Lionel tried, but couldn't repress a chuckle once he was gone.