Clark was a person who naturally fell into routine, so that's exactly what happened after making his costumed fly-overs an everyday thing. After his conversation with Lana, he'd gotten into the habit of flying high above the clouds and extending his hearing range as far as he could. That way, he could sift through as much noise as possible to determine where his help was needed most. The first time he did it, he'd gotten overwhelmed and had to fly into the mesosphere before calming enough to focus. It reminded him of the first time he'd discovered his enhanced hearing when he was in high school. Jonathan had let him take a day off from school and helped him focus enough to control it and relax enough to ignore the sounds that were far away.

Now, true to his word, he'd taken to protecting people from a variety of crimes as well as other forms of danger. Most of the time he ended up stopping robberies, occasionally talking to the perpetrators and getting them to desist. That was always his main goal, but usually they refused to talk and just attacked. Clark had to be vigilant and reactive at all times so nobody got hurt. One way to make sure was to catch all bullets so none of them would ricochet. He'd neglected to do this the first time, and the bullets had bounced right off him and caused significant damage to the inside of the bank. Clark made sure to dodge punches, kicks, and tackles as well, so criminals wouldn't hurt themselves. His go-to move was to tie the perps up with the retractable tape from the stanchions in a store or bank and leave the robbers for the cops to find.

Even though he'd spent a lot of time in other countries, most of Clark's time dealing with crime was spent in the United States. As a result, people around the States had started to accept him as a real person and would recognize him periodically. Knowing this actually made Clark a bit more comfortable and even though he'd never talk at length, occasionally he'd stop and greet people.

As the summer got into full swing, Lana, Clark and even Martha got busier. Martha had taken up volunteering at a homeless shelter in Keystone City through the Kansas Department of Children and Families. She spent a few days there every week, helping to look after homeless kids, runaways, and even whole families who had no other options. Having been inspired and nudged into action by hearing about her son on the news from time to time, Martha had decided that her time could be spent proactively instead of reactively like when she was Smallville's sheriff. Being in law enforcement often meant reacting to problems and cleaning up the mess (while trying to keep her subordinates in line and actually doing their jobs), but working at the shelter meant she could help people in their hardships and prevent something even worse from happening.

Lana was in the back half of her fellowship, and the entire group of fellows was assisting with a project concerning aircraft safety mechanisms. Lana considered herself lucky that she had specifically dealt with aircraft energy systems when working on her Master's degree, because a few of the other fellows were stressed with being thrown into a project with not much experience. She ended up taking the lead in assisting. Lana particularly enjoyed working with Lena who, even though she had a degree in Robotics, showed that she was also knowledgeable in a great deal of other scientific disciplines and was a quick study as well.

Because of Lana's busy schedule and Clark's activities, they'd seen less of each other as the year fell into July. Clark busied himself in the Fortress in his down time, furthering his studies in Kryptonian culture and scientific discipline. It was mind-boggling how rudimentary human technology was compared to Krypton's. Clark had a lot to catch up on, and it wasn't easy. He enjoyed learning, if at his leisure, but he'd never focused on the sciences much after high school and so was already at a disadvantage from human standards. Kelex was a big help, though.

After one particularly long lesson, Clark took a break and had Kelex run the capabilities of his suit by him again. He was sure there were more intricate features involved since Kelex had made it to Kryptonian standard. It was durable despite being incredibly thin, but not as durable as Clark himself was. Resistant against extreme temperatures, friction, tension, and blunt force, the suit held up best against the former two. It was insulated and offered protection against high voltages, but if bombarded with enough force, it could be damaged or pierced despite its threshold. Lastly, the suit could only protect against a finite amount of ionizing radiation. Since Kryptonians were genetically engineered to be able to absorb non-ionizing radiation from Rao, the suit was designed to be passive in this regard. On an unrelated note, the boots and cape, though connected to the bodysuit, were detachable.

Clark had only gone out flying after grabbing the uniform from the Fortress, but he knew he'd eventually have to carry it with him indefinitely at some point. One day, and soon, he'd end up in a situation where he wasn't in his suit and he'd need to change quickly. So as practice, he decided to devise ways of concealing it and carrying it. The material itself, including the cape, was stretchy and flexible while also compressible, so hiding it wouldn't be the problem. The issue was what he would do with his normal clothes.

After different trials and outfits, Clark determined that the costume, being comfortable and skintight, would easily fit under any of his clothes (assuming he was wearing long pants and sleeves). Luckily for him, his body was thermo-regulated so well that we wouldn't get cold or hot no matter what he wore. His civilian clothes, he guessed, would have to be hidden somewhere nearby. Clark shrugged. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it; this was the sort of thing that required trial and error.

Clark was in the mood for a gyro and so headed to Metropolis. Spending so much time there with Lana the past few months, he'd found an older Pakistani man working a cart on a street corner by the Metropolis Museum of Art. His gyros were the best by far, and he was always there late at night. This night, July 4th, was no different.

There were a lot of people around. Clark had changed into street clothes on top of a building and then traveled down the fire escape into an alley before making his way to his favorite cart guy. There was surprisingly no line, and Clark greeted the man in Urdu like always. The man boomed a laugh.

"How many times I tell you? I'm working on English, my friend! How can I get better if you speak Urdu?"

"All right, all right," Clark smiled. "How's it going, Nasim?"

"Fantastic! Everyone is drinking and celebrating. When they drink, they get hungry. I get a lot of business later tonight. The usual for you?"

"Yep, and a can of ginger ale, please."

Nasim went to work, chatting amiably with Clark all the while. It didn't take long, and in a few minutes Clark was paying and heading down the street. His aim was just to take a leisurely walk, enjoying the city at night and eating his gyro, and that's exactly what he did. The museum was closed by this time, but further downtown were bars, clubs, restaurants and movie theaters that were packed with people. Clark could hear fireworks in the distance behind the din of the young-adult summer night scene. People didn't do much of that in the city, but the suburbs across the rivers were a riot. The whole thing was surreal for him. It was like being in the eye of an American hurricane.

As soon as Clark had finished eating, he heard something odd coming from far away. Normally, nightclubs always held this sort of light, raucous noise late at night – mostly music, laughter and aimless chatter. This time it sounded more like angry buzzing, as if a beehive had been knocked over. Slowing down and listening in, Clark determined that a fight had broken out earlier and the perpetrators (two men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves) were arrested. The commotion hadn't died down since then, and Clark absentmindedly drifted toward the source of the sound as he walked. Most of the chatter came from female voices, but there were angry male voices in the mix as well. Those he could hear more clearly, so he figured they weren't inside the club. Clark was getting close now; the venue couldn't be more than a few blocks away. One conversation stood out to him.

"I can't believe that bitch got him arrested. What were the cops even doing there anyway?"

"I don't know, man. It's fucked up. She was messing with him all night and as soon as she sees a Blue she bolts?"

"Right? I mean, why be all touchy and dance-y if she didn't want him? And in that skimpy little thing too."

"They're kicking everybody out. What the hell hap- wait, there she is."

Clark stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, listening acutely. His eyes were unfocused and his whole body was tense. He couldn't tell who those guys were talking about, but it didn't bode well. For a moment there was nothing to go on, no sound to give him a clear picture. Then he'd heard a soft cry of fear even further away, and more from the same voices as before. Clark moved.

He was angry. His suit was under his clothes for the first time, and he bitterly cursed the fact that he'd been right so soon. Clark shed his clothes and glasses with increasing speed, leaving them bunched in an alleyway under a milk crate behind a dumpster full of cardboard boxes. Taking off straight up out of the space between two buildings, he followed the sound and ended up in an even narrower alley. There was almost no light, and part of it was blocked off by fencing in the middle. The path had an inlet off to the side just before the fence, and that's where Clark found them. He could faintly hear the music from the club a block away. It was loud but drowned out by a small thud, an even smaller cry, and the terrified heartbeat of the woman getting backed into a corner.

One of the men had grabbed her and was holding her in place with most of his body, telling her not to make a sound. He was of average height and build, with a balding head and five o'clock shadow. Very obviously drunk. The other one, tall and lanky, peeked back into the alley as a lookout and was met by a furious Clark floating a few feet away. Jaw clenched and brow creased, he looked between the two men. The only reason he hadn't already acted was that he was so angry he didn't trust himself not to break them if he moved. The lookout had gone silent with wide eyes, mouth gaping in disbelief.

"You're gonna get Danny out of this mess if you know what's good for you. It was all just a misunderstanding, wasn't it? Wasn't it?"

Clark drew a breath and spoke.

"Stop," he commanded loudly. The other man and the woman looked at him immediately, and he heard the man curse under his breath. The inlet was awash in a low red light, and only then did Clark realize that his own eyes were glowing. He blinked them back to normal, darkening the alley once more. "Back away from her, and I won't hurt you."

The lookout backed up into the fence, looking to put distance between himself and the floating figure in front of him but not being able to do much. The first man was much bolder. "Beat it, buddy. This ain't got nothing to do with you."

He hadn't yet taken a look at Clark, too preoccupied. The young woman, however, stared at him with pleading eyes that held their own form of uncertainty. She must've been afraid of him too. Clark moved faster, coming to grab his arm and yanked him away and behind him, almost into his friend. "I wasn't asking."

Clark angled himself so that the woman was at his back. She hadn't said one word since he showed up, but her breathing had slowed. The first man was holding his own arm and the second man was tugging at the other, telling him to run. "It's him. We need to go!"

He didn't listen. Instead, he moved forward and swung at Clark with his good arm. Normally, Clark would dodge for the aggressor's sake, but this time he made no effort to move at all. He was sure that he'd bruised the man badly when pulling him, but he knew this would be worse. And it was.

The man screamed in pain as his fist collided with Clark's cheek. An audible crunching sound filled the air, and Clark could hear that even the woman behind him gasped and flinched. "You should've listened to your friend," said Clark, his eyes now back to normal.

This time the man relented, and the two attackers staggered off down the alley and back onto the street. Clark took a deep breath and turned around to face the woman, who looked like she had shrunk herself in the corner to take up as little space as possible.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, keeping a little distance between them. "Did they hurt you?"

She looked at him and shook her head slowly, shrinking further. "No. You got here before…"

Clark stepped back into the alley proper, watching her unfurl herself and giving her space to come out of the inlet. She did.

"You're him," she said slowly. "The guy on the news. The one who saves people."

The low light illuminated her blonde hair and her face, showing smudged makeup and a couple of scratches. He wasn't sure how to proceed.

"I...do what I can. Do you want to go to the police?" he asked.

"That's what got me into this mess in the first place," she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

Clark nodded awkwardly. A moment of silence passed between them. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Went out with a friend, drank some. I danced with this guy I thought was cute. He was a good dancer. But he got all weird so I tried to leave, but he followed me into the bathroom. He got...rough...so I punched him. Kneed him too. Saw a bunch of cops when I came out, probably a drug thing, and I told them. They found him still in the ladies room. I didn't realize he had friends, though."

Clark nodded. "Where's your friend?"

The blonde woman looked at him fully in the face for the first time. "Beats me. I couldn't find her when I was leaving. To be honest, she's not really my friend."

Another awkward silence ensued. The only sounds that filled the air were the hums of passing cars and the squeaks of the occasional rodent.

"You've probably had enough of strangers tonight, but…I could fly you home, if you'd like."

The woman in front of him took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. She wouldn't meet his eyes again. "Um...I think I'll walk. It's not far."

"Okay."

She gave him a small smile and nudged past him toward the alley entrance. Before turning out onto the side walk she looked back at him. "Thank you, by the way."

Clark nodded and waved in response.

Checking by the dumpster in the other alley, Clark came to find that the milk crate was still there but not his clothes. Clark heaved a heavy sigh and stood otherwise motionless in the alley.

"This night could certainly be better," he muttered to himself. He looked around, x-raying the debris strewn across the concrete to make sure his clothes just hadn't been moved. They were nowhere to be seen, to his dismay, but to his surprise he did find his wallet. Tossed haphazardly behind the dumpster, it was completely intact. Clark retrieved it and checked inside. His pictures, bank cards, and IDs were all still there, but the cash he'd had was gone. Clark considered himself lucky and even smiled, tucking his wallet into one of the pockets secured on his lower back. His phone was in the other one, and he was glad he'd gotten into the habit of always keeping it with him. He pulled it out and checked the time: 10:48.

Clark took to the sky for some leisurely flying, but gliding over the Metropolis skyline didn't calm him like it usually did. He couldn't escape his own brain. The earlier incident had left him uneasy despite the favorable outcome. Luckily, he hadn't discerned any more situations that needed immediate attention. A bitter taste still stung in his mouth. Going forward, he would have to deal with worse people and worse crimes than he encountered earlier, and that was something to which he was not looking forward.

Losing his clothes was a bummer too, but it could've been worse. Clark figured whoever was desperate enough to take his cash and his clothes but leave his wallet definitely needed them more than he did, so he no longer minded. He just wished he'd seen who it was. Then he would've been able to help more.

Clark continued to fly, and took his time. Human speed was his default, and sometimes it was mentally draining to do things at higher speeds for extended periods of time. He cruised over New Troy, high enough to admire the view but low enough that he was still below the clouds.

"Hey!"

Clark's brow furrowed. He'd been periodically checking in on the sounds of the city, but that sounded off.

"HEY!"

He slowed to a stop, floating directly above the street with his head cocked to the side. It sounded a lot closer that time. Clark looked below and ahead of him, but saw nobody who seemed to know he was there.

"Over here!"

Clark whirled around and finally caught the source of the sound. He hadn't realized it, but he had just passed the Daily Planet building, level with the giant golden rotating globe at the top. On the roof was a woman, staring at him and waving. She had an expectant look on her face, as if to say "well what are you waiting for? I don't have all night."

She was standing in the middle of the smooth expanse of the roof, far away from any edge. Clark drifted over and stopped to hover a few yards away from her. Black hair blew into her face with the breeze, and she tried to flick it out of her eyes to no avail. She stared thoughtfully, pulling a hair tie from her wrist and tying her hair back in a ponytail. Floating several inches off the ground with his cape flapping lightly in the wind, Clark waited patiently. Finally, she spoke.

"You're bigger than I remember."

Clark squinted in confusion. Having been surprised at the voice directed at him, he hadn't noticed much of her appearance at first. He paid attention to her face, now fully exposed, and felt a pang of familiarity.

"You were on the plane," said Clark, cocking his head to the side. "The L707."

"Totally was, yeah," she said. "Thanks for the save, by the way. Much appreciated, since I value my life."

Clark smirked. "You're welcome."

"You're more scowl-y than I remember, too. Something got you in a bad mood?"

Clark hadn't even been aware of the tension in his face. He relaxed at her words and shook his head. "Everything's fine."

"If you say so," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd stop, just now. Kind of figured you'd just," (she made a stretching gesture with her hand, like a plane taking off) "fly away."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not in any rush. And now you have my attention, Miss…"

"Lane. Lois Lane."

Clark nodded. "You're a reporter for the Daily Planet."

"That's correct," she replied with a hint of a smile. She took a chance. "I don't suppose you'd do an interview, huh?"

"I…will have to respectfully decline at this time," said Clark slowly, eyes darting away from her for a moment. Lois laughed. Another barrage of fireworks in the distance caught Clark's eye. "What are you doing here so late on a holiday? It's got to be almost midnight."

"Working." Lois received only a quizzically raised eyebrow as an answer. She continued. "This is one of my least favorite holidays anyway and it's not like I got invited to any barbecues. Nothing else to do."

"You'd rather spend a Friday night at work than at home?" Clark asked, his confused expression deepening.

"What's with the interrogation? I'm the reporter here." Lois's expression was devoid of emotion but her tone was much more playful than her words would have implied.

"Sorry," relented Clark. "It's just a little out of the ordinary is all."

Lois chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "You're a guy who can literally fly without any type of assistance and chooses to do so in a bright costume and I'm out of the ordinary?"

Clark laughed with her. "Okay. You've got a point."

She gave him a look of mild satisfaction. "Speaking of, what's with this outfit? Trying to make a fashion statement? And what does the 'S' stand for?"

"It's not an 'S,'" replied Clark, looking down at himself.

"It's an 'S,' but anywho, I've got a few questions since the incident. Some answers would help give me peace of mind – off the record. I promise I don't have my tape recorder with me. I just came up here for a smoke break."

Lois pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket for emphasis. Clark noticed she was in casual (and stylish) clothing this time.

"You know, you really shouldn't smoke, Miss Lane."

She sighed, casting her eyes down for a second. "Yeah. Bad habit I picked up from daddy dearest. That and being a workaholic, as you can see. Lucy always scolds me for it. She's my little sister."

"Sounds like she cares about you," said Clark. Lois snorted.

"More like she finally has something to be on her high horse about. She's the wild one, not me." Lois watched as Clark touched down on the ground. He gave her a small smile. "Anyway…I asked you this last time but you didn't really give an answer. Who are you? And if you call yourself a friend again I swear to God I'll kick your ass. I don't care how many planes you can lift."

Clark shook his head, smiling. She reminded him of Lana, but a bit more brazen.

"I'm just someone who wants to help," said Clark, taking a couple of steps forward.

Lois's face softened in a mix of sympathy and impatience. "Mind explaining a bit further there, Tinkerbell?"

Clark gave her a look. Lois smiled sweetly.

"People can only do so much. Even those that have the desire to make the world better or just make another person's day a little brighter have a limit to what they can accomplish day to day. But with all the abilities I have…I can do so much more. And since I can, I feel like I have this responsibility to do so."

Lois took in his response, staring blankly at him. She didn't expect that. "And what are your abilities?"

Clark didn't answer. Lois sighed impatiently.

"You're not kidding at all, are you?" She saw Clark shake his head and gave him an enigmatic look. Lois had only been a reporter for a couple years, but her instincts were as good as any veteran's. Her gut was always right, and she'd had enough experience to know her innate cynicism was warranted. However, her gut wasn't telling her anything bad now. In fact, it wasn't telling her anything at all. That was new. "If you're telling the truth, that's very admirable. The Boy Scouts would love you."

Clark gave her a bashful look. He wasn't sure how to respond. Lois looked like she had more on her mind, but wanted to choose her words carefully. It made Clark curious. He didn't normally see a clear juxtaposition between control and impulsiveness in a person. She was fighting the urge to do something. Clark wondered what it was.

"I've, uh, been in danger more times than I can count but being on that plane when it was falling…that was the first time I ever really thought I was gonna die." Lois watched Clark's face soften into a passively patient expression. "I'm just baffled – and a little terrified – by how lucky it was that you decided to save me and everyone on it on a whim."

"They aren't just whims. I couldn't just let you all die. If someone else had been in my position, wouldn't they have done the same?"

The certainty with which he'd said that was mind-boggling. Lois knew that in reality the chances of that would be fifty-fifty at best, but for some reason she couldn't find the words to tell him. "I guess so."

Clark smiled widely, and Lois found that she couldn't stop herself from doing the same. They stayed like that, looking at each other until Lois felt a nervous flutter in her stomach.

"So, um…thank you for doing what you do," she said with a shaky laugh. He nodded.

"You're welcome, Lois."

"Still a no on that interview?"

"Afraid so."

Lois sighed heavily, folding her arms. "You're not the most forthcoming person, it seems."

Clark cocked his head, peering at her. "Are you?"

"…no," Lois answered begrudgingly, narrowing her eyes. Clark laughed. Lois took a step toward him. "But I'm not the big unknown here. You are. The world wants to know more about you. Most of the world doesn't even know I exist."

"It's too early for that. You'll get to know more when the time is right."

"And when will that be?" asked Lois. She only received a patient expression in response. Her breath came out in a huff. "Okay. Then will I be seeing you again?"

Clark shrugged. "Sure. I'll be flying around Metropolis every now and then. All you'll have to do is look up."

Lois pursed her lips. That wasn't what she'd meant. "Right."

Clark took his phone out, the small device vibrating in his hand. Lois quickly retrieved her own, swiping frantically on the screen. She watched his face flicker with expression as he pocketed it again and surreptitiously aimed at him.

"Good to know you have a cell phone. Mind giving me your number?" said Lois. Clark gave her a small, closed-mouth smile and then shook his head.

"You're very persistent, I'll give you that," he said, angling away from her. "Must be a good reporter."

Lois smiled back. "You're not wrong."

Clark floated up a bit, catching the wind. His cape flapped behind him. "Well, I'll let you get back to whatever you were working on, even though you should probably go home and sleep."

Lois nodded awkwardly, watching him gain height.

"Good night, Lois," he called, giving her a wave.

She waved back. "Good night."

Lois watched him fly away in awe, marveling at the casual display of power. He was a mystery and she desperately wanted to get to the bottom of it, if not for reporter's sake then for herself. She was intrigued by him-how could she not be? They guy could fly, and was just odd enough to be interesting. Lois looked at her phone and smiled, the picture she'd furtively snapped on display.

Lena was never fond of Luthor family breakfasts. Granted she hadn't participated often, having been in the care of a nanny and then in boarding schools since being adopted. Lena hadn't been adopted by the Luthors outright, but by a "friend" of whom she never saw much even as a little girl. Coming into a new family at four years old after her mother died was daunting, but Lena considered herself lucky that she had been too young to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. Most of her childhood was spent with Raisa, her nanny, and with Lex, so it wasn't until her pre-teen years that she'd started to get much attention from Lionel and Lillian (good and bad). Even then, it was only in private. In public, she was still Lena Mercer and relatively unknown in most situations. If she saw the Luthors at all, it was usually at a place they owned but didn't frequent. Lex had taken on the big brother role when he could and, like now, provided a buffer between her and Lillian. He wasn't an aggressive defender, but Lena still felt more protected whenever he was around.

The four Luthors sat around a small yet ornate square table. Lionel, always one to keep up appearances, made conversation. Lex, of course, contributed seamlessly. Lena always envied Lex's ability to tailor himself to any situation, but was also put off by it. It was a skill taught by Lillian, though because of her current power and influence she rarely used it anymore. She and Lionel both made a point to make sure Lex and Lena (respectively) learned what they felt was necessary to know in order to navigate the world as people of power and privilege. Lex had taken to all official and non-official lessons quickly and without issue. Lena, on the other hand, was almost always uncomfortable.

When in boarding school Lena had some autonomy in her studies, but during summer breaks she and Lex were tutored in business and political science, both for which Lena didn't care much. She was significantly more interested in building and inventing things than managing subordinates and kissing other people's asses for money. Still, it came in handy when trying to appease her father. It did not work on Lillian, however, and after years of rejection Lena stopped actively trying to impress her.

"How did the meeting with Mr. Maeda go?" asked Lex, digging into his food.

Lionel gave a noncommittal shrug. "Not as well as I'd hoped, but overall better than expected. Either way, his is not the only mining company available for contract."

"True, but his is the best when it comes to discretion."

"That we know of so far," smirked Lionel. "I'm sure we can…incentivize others if need be. Let's hope this endeavor isn't plagued by misfortune like the last."

"Or else that colorful peacock in the sky will save us again?" drawled Lillian sardonically.

Lionel gave her a look. "I wouldn't yet count on those odds, though his actions were rather fortuitous. It would've been a PR nightmare had people died."

"And terrible for their families," added Lena. Lillian rolled her eyes. Lex's mouth twitched.

"Yes, of course, darling," Lionel replied with a patient look before continuing. "The plan is to keep this under wraps. That flying man seems to be getting more and more proactive when it comes to danger and I would not like to be on his or anyone else's radar."

"You've been monitoring him?" said Lex.

Lionel nodded, eyes brightening. "In a way, certainly. If I weren't running a billion-dollar company I'd be spending a lot more time on him. This man is an anomaly, a person with extraordinary abilities. He could be the next step in our evolution, Lex, and I aim to learn as much about him as I can. Even meet him if it's in the cards. So much power in one man…fascinating."

A thick silence fell over the group. Lillian chimed in. "I do not trust him. For someone so keen on making public appearances in a ridiculous costume he seems to be hiding a great deal. He's been the talk of the internet and broadcast news for over a month and nobody knows a thing about him except that he's strong, fast, and can somehow fly. All he does is swoop in, save lives, and fly away."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Lena incredulously. Lillian shot her a look of thinly veiled impatience.

"Good and bad are irrelevant, Lena. He is an unknown variable and therefore highly dangerous."

"I don't disagree," retorted Lionel. "Yet I do deem it unwise to make an enemy out of someone so powerful so quickly. Who can say for certain he only has these three abilities? This is likely the main reason significant world powers have been hesitant to call him out despite his disregard for sovereign borders. Though I suspect that many have already begun to militarize just in case. We have no idea how powerful he truly is. I've no doubt that he is being scrutinized more thoroughly than anyone has been in the history of mankind."

"A prudent course of action," said Lillian. "Better safe than sorry."

"Quite. LuthorCorp will continue to track his exploits, of course, off the books. Intriguingly, he's been spotted here in Metropolis more often than anywhere else, which requires further study."

"You will include me in this?"

"Of course, Lillian. Would either of you like to be in on this project?"

Lex affirmed immediately, but it took a few seconds for Lena to gather her answer. She nodded, initiating an awkward silence.

"What is the mining project for?" said Lena slowly, uncomfortable with the tension.

Lionel piped back up, engaged. "A mineral. A xeno-mineral in fact! Rather large meteorites have been found in several places across the country. Their chemical composition is nothing like anything we've seen before. Some of our associates discovered small crystals in Texas when closing a contract with the Army. We gathered spectroscopic data and are doing our best to find more with its isotopic signature."

"Are they radioactive?" Lena asked, smiling widely. Her relationship with Lionel wasn't perfect by any means, but every drawback seemed to fade away for her every time they talked science.

"Faintly. We'll be following protocol for protection of course, but so far it seems superfluous."

"What do they look like?"

"They're magnificent, Lena. Gorgeous and clearer than anything you've ever seen. And they glow."

"Seriously?" Lena looked at Lex, grinning. She knew he wasn't anywhere near as excited as she was, but he smiled back anyway.

"Oh, yes. A deep, bright green."