- Chapter 2 - Everyone Is Searching -

Mrs. Pringles, proper and prim with her sensible pumps and her neat bun of graying hair turned from a full black board of notes and smiled at the class of bored adolescents slouching in their seats. She didn't hold their disinterest against them. It was a sociology class, and they were still children. The ones who snored got on her nerves occasionally, but only because they could be a hassle to speak over. "Are you ready for a new assignment?" She hardly paused for the children to ignore her. "It's that time of year, time for the annual sociology project. I won't be making you create a family tree or teach a chapter out of your textbooks. This year I see a paper in your future. Pick up your topic on the way out."

Clark was trying to stay focused on school and the task at hand, but his teacher's lectures seemed to lull his mind into a vegetative state in which he could only worry about his parents and his home. It took a poke from Pete to bring him out of his own world at the end of sociology.

"Clark, if you don't wake up and start actually listening to some of these lectures, you're going to miss that lovely GPA of yours," Pete said. "Oh, and here's your paper topic."

"Paper?" Clark said. He took the stapled packet from Pete and followed him into the crowded hall.

Pete rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly. "This is getting sad, Clark. What's going on with you anyway? It isn't like you to play slacker, though the whole distracted bit isn't that unusual. So spill it, what's on your brain?"

Clark shrugged and tried to ignore the question. Talking to Pete about his family's crisis wasn't completely unappealing, but a jam-packed high school corridor wasn't the place. Thankfully, Chloe came sauntering up brandishing her digital camera and offered an easy topic change. "I have a lead on a story. You guys heard of the Martin's tree farm? Their three guard dogs came up dead, necks broken."

Clark craned his neck to look at the picture displayed on Chloe's camera. Three rottweilers, necks cocked at an impossible angle lay in a neat row. "Weird, but not exactly Wall-of-Weird weird," Clark said.

"Every story I cover isn't going to make the wall of weird," Chloe said. "Besides the Martin's have two kids in this school, making the story fair game for the Torch."

Pete managed to get a glimpse of the mangled dogs, and his nose drew up in disgust. "Maybe it isn't weird enough, but that is gross."

"So, are you guys game to come interview the distraught owners of the victims this afternoon?" Chloe asked. She made it a point to not stare at Clark expectantly.

Pete held his hands up and started backing away. "Hey, I've got practice. You guys have fun though."

Clark winced and shook his head. "Chloe, you know I'd be there, but I have a family thing this afternoon. Can't bail on it. I'm really sorry. I could do it tomorrow?"

Chloe shrugged and stashed her camera. "Don't worry about it. I can handle it." It wasn't like she needed him, not to do her job anyway. Chloe plastered her million-dollar smile on for Clark's benefit and let the flow of kids lead her down the hall toward her last class.

Clark watched Chloe disappear and tried not to feel quite so guilty about sending her off alone. His last class, algebra, was only three steps down the hall, but Clark couldn't bring himself to head that way. Math came easy for him, and he didn't have the heart to sit through another lecture. He needed to talk to someone. Clark hoisted his books up on his shoulder and headed for the exit.


Like a predator stalking prey, the Eradicator moved with singular intensity covering ground with efficient silence. She had moved steadily throughout the night and through the day. There was nothing but the mission, the salvation of Krypton. The small glowing blue crystal on her palm pulled her toward her goal, toward the life-pod that she sought.

More than a decade searching and there wasn't any real urgency in this creature. She was an AI programmed to protect Krypton, programmed to follow directives. Urgency required a depth of self-awareness that the Eradicator as yet failed to possess. If this line of inquiry failed to produce a living breathing Kryptonian, she would begin again without frustration, without disappointment. At least that was how it was supposed to go.

The Eradicator was self-aware to the extent that she monitored her sub-routines. She had the ability to process unique information and adapt to new situations. It was only natural that over several millennia of existence some of the protocols failed and despite routine self-tests and self-maintenance corruption occurred. The Eradicator didn't recognize the delicate buzz of anticipation dancing across her neural paths. She didn't detect the beginnings of a fatal corruption, independent thought.

When the locator in her hand began to pull downward, the Eradicator froze and scanned her surroundings. Perhaps it was an underground dwelling? With a careless jerk the Eradicator removed the wooden covering barring her path. The life-pod, it was here. The Eradicator moved into the musty darkness, her vision unaffected. Where was the Kryptonian, though? Apparently, he had left his craft behind.

Perhaps he had blended into the primitive society infesting this world? Perhaps he was already dead? A new course of action already formulated, the Eradicator left the glowing blue crystal atop the life-pod, a message, in case her Kryptonian should return.


Lex Luthor tried not to zone out while two accountants in Sears-shopper suits took turns reviewing fiscal figures he'd already been through for himself a half-dozen times. There were only so many ways to crunch numbers, and these two bureaucrats weren't terribly imaginative about it. "Well gentlemen," Lex said. He cut one of the men off mid-sentence. "I think we've learned all we're going to for today."

Like a wild animal released from its cage, Lex made a beeline for his garage. A nice long drive in the Porsche would clear away the cobwebs. Lex ran a hand carelessly over the silver chrome finish and dropped into the perfectly formed leather seat. Once he was out on the road with the wind sliding over his face, everything in the world seemed to fade back. The road had a magic power to short-circuit the part of Lex's brain that worried. Lionel, the factory, nothing penetrated the adrenaline that followed speed. Truthfully, he didn't go quite as fast as he used to. Accidentally driving off a bridge doing sixty could have that effect on you.

The sleek sports car purred and Lex shifted her into fifth gear. Faster. Then he was out of control. It was almost like a flash back to that other accident, one second he was driving along a run down county road, the next his car was in a skid. "Damn, gravel," Lex hissed. Some people say that time slows down during an accident, Lex would disagree. One moment he was cruising and in control the next he was stationary in a patch of grass.

Lex pushed his designer sunglasses back up on his nose and tried to restart the stalled car. The engine, which had only moments before had been purring like a wild cat, barely sputtered. "Damnation." He couldn't even call for help. Leaving the cell phone behind to avoid interruptions had seemed like a good idea at the time. Lex stepped out of the car and consciously refrained from cursing. It was going to be a long walk.


Clark wasn't sure why he'd walked out to his Dad's fishing hole. It wasn't like he was going to find anyone to talk to in a deserted field. He could have gone to see Lex or asked Pete to cut classes with him, but he wandered out here instead. Maybe, subconsciously, he was trying to recapture the security of his childhood, when everything was certain, and the whole world revolved around snaring a bottom-feeding, whiskered fish. Clark took a smooth stone and weighted it in his hand. Casually, he set it skipping across the pond.

"If it isn't Clark Kent. Shouldn't you be in school young man?"

Clark turned and smiled. There was no mistaking the young man trudging up the road toward him. It wasn't just the bald head either. Lex had presence and charisma. It leaked out of him in his smile and the way he held himself. He was the best friend Clark had ever had. Maybe it was because he was different, always one step removed from the people around him. Maybe Clark felt a kinship with that distance. "Just cutting Algebra, nothing too serious," Clark said. "What are you doing way out here, on foot no less?"

Lex smirked and headed out into the field. "Wrecked another car. Not quite as serious as last time, thankfully."

"Are you okay?" Clark scanned his friend quickly for broken bones and other injuries. With his vision, the scan was better than any emergency room in the county would have mustered.

"Oh I'm fine. The Porsche wasn't quite so lucky." Lex seemed a bit reluctant to just drop down and join Clark on the messy grass. His designer slacks were still perfectly pressed and spotless. "If you're taking the rest of the day off from studies, why not walk into town with me? I'll buy you a cappuccino."

Clark came to his feet and shrugged. "I'll walk in with you, but I can't stay long. Dad's going to need me this afternoon. We do have a crop coming in."

Lex nodded and led the way back onto the rutted gravel road. "How is the farm coming?" It had been hard for Lex, staying out of the Kents' financial crisis. As hyperaware of the fiscal world as he was, it wasn't likely that Lex would miss a sudden drop in a commodity like corn, or fail to interpret what that would mean for a farmer betting on that staple.

Nothing would have given Lex more pleasure than helping Clark and his family. It wasn't just the debt he owed for Clark saving his life either. It would mean helping a friend, and there weren't many people in the world that Lex allowed close enough to be real friends. Not to say he trusted Clark absolutely. There was still a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that anyone so naive or perfect existed, and if they did, why the Hell would that person befriend a wolf like him?

"The farm is...going," Clark said. "The corn looks great. I don't think we've ever had this nice a crop, at least that I can remember."

"I detect a but in that statement," Lex said. "What's wrong?"

"Things are just a little tight right now. It's going to be a close one this year," Clark said.

"Close, eh? Has your dad given any more thought to taking on a partner? I'm still game," Lex said.

Clark started shaking his head before Lex even finished his offer. "On that one point, Dad hasn't wavered. He doesn't trust you Lex and he'd rather lose it all than make a deal with you. I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help." Constantly having to turn away Lex's gestures of friendship was disconcerting for Clark. Academically, he could understand his dad's perspective, but he didn't agree. Trust a person who had never shown himself to be anything but a friend, or lose your home? Clark failed to see the choice.

"I hope he changes his mind, for your family's sake," Lex said.