AN : What will we see this time, had a fun time recalling this episode and adapting it for my crossover, hope you enjoy.
Chapter 13: Reaper
The air in Smallville General Hospital was suffocating, filled with the desperate beeps of life support machines and the frantic whispers of nurses. In one room on the third floor, Tyler Randall sat motionless beside his mother's bed, his heart heavy as he watched her frail body labor for each breath. Her once vibrant face now a ghostly shade, drained by the relentless onslaught of cancer.
His mother's pleading eyes met his, filled with pain and resignation. She had fought bravely against her illness, but it was clear now that she would not win this battle. All that remained was endless suffering.
"Tyler," she rasped weakly, her voice barely audible. "I need you to do something for me."
He leaned closer, feeling his throat tighten at the sight of her frailty. "Anything, Mom. What is it?"
Her trembling hand reached out to grasp his. "I need you to help me... end this pain. Please. I can't bear it any longer."
In that moment, Tyler's heart shattered into a million pieces. He had been by her side through every painful step of her journey, but this request was too much to bear. His own mother was asking him to take her life, to end her suffering, but in doing so, he would lose her forever.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded silently. "Okay," he whispered hoarsely. "Okay."
With a deep sigh, his mother closed her eyes and relaxed as if she had been waiting for this release for far too long. "Thank you," she breathed faintly. "Bury me in Smallville... I want to rest near the place where we were happy."
Tyler couldn't speak as he reached for the pillow, his hands shaking violently. With a heavy heart, he pressed it down gently over her face, muffling the sound of her labored breaths. Within moments, her body went still and the room fell eerily silent, except for the steady beeps of the life support machines.
But then, suddenly, alarms began to blare as the machines detected her passing. Tyler jolted back in shock, his heart racing as nurses rushed into the room followed by a doctor and security personnel.
"What have you done?" one of them cried out in horror, staring at him with accusing eyes.
Tyler stood up slowly, backing away from the bed in disbelief. "I... I didn't..." he stammered, unable to finish his sentence.
But before he could explain or even process what had happened, the doctor grabbed his arm firmly. "You need to come with us," he said sternly, his face set in a hard expression.
Panic seized Tyler's mind as he desperately tried to pull away from their grip. But the struggle was too much and in a split second, he fell backward and crashed through the hospital window, plummeting more than twenty feet to the ground below.
Hours later, in the cold and sterile surroundings of the Smallville morgue, Tyler's lifeless body lay on an examination table under a white sheet. The coroner, a middle-aged man with greying hair and a stoic demeanor approached him, preparing to conduct an autopsy.
But as soon as he lifted the sheet, something caught his eye - a small glowing green fragment embedded in Tyler's wrist. Frowning in confusion, he reached for his tools and carefully removed the object. And in that very moment, a strange green aura began to emanate from Tyler's body, spreading like wildfire.
With wide eyes and growing fear, the coroner stepped back as Tyler's body suddenly twitched and convulsed. And then without warning, his eyes snapped open and his hand shot out, grasping onto the coroner's arm with a vice-like grip.
The coroner let out a blood-curdling scream as his body began to disintegrate, turning into ash right before Tyler's gasping eyes. The man's form crumbled and fell in a pile to the floor, leaving Tyler sitting up, wide-eyed and unbelieving.
He had died, he knew that much. But somehow, the meteor fragment had brought him back to life, giving him a chilling power - the ability to end lives with a single touch.
Without uttering a word or feeling any emotion, Tyler got up from the table and walked out of the morgue, leaving behind a trail of dust and death. Little did anyone know, this was just the beginning of his destructive journey with his newfound deadly gift.
At Mobile Meals, Evelyn Dutton and Clark were busy preparing for their deliveries. The small organisation delivered meals to the elderly and homebound in the community, and today was one of their busiest days. Evelyn was in charge, organising the volunteers and ensuring that everyone had their routes planned.
As they were packing up for their first delivery of the day, a new volunteer entered the room. He was tall, with dark hair and a calm demeanour. He smiled warmly as he approached them.
"Hi, I'm Tyler Randall," he said, extending his hand to Evelyn. "I'm the new volunteer."
Evelyn shook his hand, offering him a friendly smile. "Welcome, Tyler. We're glad to have you."
Clark, standing nearby, offered a nod of acknowledgment but couldn't shake the strange feeling he got from Tyler. There was something… off about him. Clark's senses were heightened, and though nothing seemed overtly wrong, he made a mental note to keep an eye on Tyler.
Their first stop was at the home of Mrs. Sikes, an elderly woman bedridden and in pain. She had been one of the centre's regulars for years, and today, they had brought her a bouquet of irises to brighten her day.
"Thank you, dears," Mrs. Sikes said softly as she patted her dog, Pepper, who lay faithfully at the foot of the bed. "These are lovely. But tomorrow… Could you bring me white roses? I always loved white roses."
Evelyn smiled gently. "Of course, Mrs. Sikes. We'll bring them tomorrow."
Tyler stood near the bed, his eyes lingering on the frail woman. For a moment, his hand twitched, and Clark noticed the tension in his expression. Tyler looked as though he were struggling with something—something dark.
"Are you okay?" Clark asked, stepping closer.
Tyler blinked, shaking his head as if snapping out of a trance. "Yeah," he said quickly. "Just… thinking about my mom. She loved flowers too."
Evelyn shot Clark a curious glance, but they didn't press further. They finished their visit with Mrs. Sikes and left the house, continuing on their route.
The Luthor Mansion loomed over Dominic Sanatori as he arrived, the imposing structure casting a shadow across the grounds. He had come under the guise of performing an audit, though his true intentions were far more sinister. His employer, Lionel Luthor, had sent him to keep an eye on Lex and his activities, which included investigating the Dutton family.
After a brief and tense exchange with Lex, Dominic made his way to the Dutton Ranch, his black dress shoes crunching against the gravel path. He hoped to pry more information out of John Dutton, the patriarch of the family.
"Mr. Dutton," Dominic began smoothly as he approached the porch, "do you have any idea why Lex Luthor has spent so much time and money investigating the car crash and your family?"
John's expression darkened at the mention of the Luthors, his wariness evident. "I have no idea why Lex would be prying into our lives, but I don't like it. If Lex is investigating us, you can tell him to stop. We don't have anything to hide."
Dominic raised an eyebrow, intrigued by John's reaction. "I'll pass that along," he said in a tone that hinted he wasn't done digging.
As Dominic left, John stood on the porch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his jaw clenched. Something about Lex's interest in his family didn't sit right with him, and he made a mental note to have a serious talk with Clark about it. The air around him crackled with tension as he watched Dominic's retreating figure fade into the distance.
Later that day, Clark met Lex at the Talon for coffee. The conversation started light, with Clark sharing stories about how he and John went fishing every year—a tradition that had started when he was a kid.
"But honestly," Clark said, a small smile tugging at his lips, "I've kind of grown out of it. I mean, I don't even like fishing anymore, but I do it to make my dad happy."
Lex, ever the opportunist, saw an opening. "Well, I've got two tickets to see the Metropolis Sharks play this weekend," he offered, sliding the tickets across the table. "Maybe you and your dad could use a change of pace this year."
Clark hesitated, glancing at the tickets. "I don't know…"
"Think about it," Lex said, flashing him a charming smile. "It could be fun."
Clark nodded, pocketing the tickets as he stood to leave. "Thanks, Lex. I'll talk to him."
As soon as Clark stepped foot into the house, he could feel tension in the air. John's smile was forced and his movements were stiff as he packed up the fishing gear.
"Hey, Dad," Clark said cautiously, approaching him. "I've been thinking... Maybe this year we could do something different."
John's expression shifted to one of suspicion. "What do you mean?"
Clark took a deep breath before pulling out the tickets from his pocket. "Lex gave me these tickets to the Metropolis Sharks game. I thought maybe we could go instead of fishing this year."
The smile on John's face vanished, replaced with a hard glare. "You got those from Lex? Clark, why didn't you tell me sooner that Lex has been investigating our family?"
Clark's heart sank at the disappointment in his father's voice. "I... I didn't think it was important."
"Didn't think it was important?" John's voice rose with anger. "Clark, Lex has been prying into our lives and you didn't think to tell me?"
Frustration boiled inside of Clark and he clenched his fists, feeling betrayed by his own father. "I'm not a kid anymore, Dad! I don't even like fishing! I only go because it makes you happy!"
John's face twisted with hurt and sadness. "This isn't about fishing, Clark. It's about trust. I'm trying to protect this family."
Clark shook his head, turning away in disbelief. "Maybe I don't need protection."
With those words, Clark stormed out of the house, leaving John standing there alone, feeling the weight of their once unbreakable bond now cracking under the strain of secrets and mistrust.
The night was eerily quiet as Tyler Randall made his way through the darkened streets of Smallville, the moonlight casting long shadows as he approached the modest house of Mrs. Sikes. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as though every step was calculated. He had come for a purpose—one he believed was righteous.
In his hand, he held a single white rose, its petals stark against the darkness of the night. Mrs. Sikes had requested white roses when he last visited her, bedridden and in pain. Now, he was here to deliver not only the flower but what he saw as her release from suffering.
As Tyler opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar barking of Pepper, Mrs. Sikes' faithful dog, greeted him. The noise was sharp in the stillness, and for a moment, Tyler paused, his face twisted in discomfort. He couldn't afford to let the dog wake anyone. His hand reached out to quiet Pepper forever. In a moment, the barking stopped, and a small pile of ash was all that remained of the once-loyal companion.
Mrs. Sikes, lying weakly in her bed, looked up as Tyler entered. Her eyes were tired, her breath ragged. She had been living in constant pain for too long, and the sight of Tyler with the white rose seemed to calm her.
"Is it time?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible.
Tyler nodded, placing the rose on her nightstand. He moved closer, sitting by her bed and taking her frail hand in his. "It's time," he said gently.
With a soft sigh, Mrs. Sikes closed her eyes. Tyler's touch, empowered by the meteor fragment embedded in his wrist, began its terrible work. Her body trembled, then stilled as her form disintegrated into ash, leaving behind nothing but the white rose and a small pile of dust.
The warm, golden rays of early morning sunlight filtered through the large kitchen windows of the Dutton Ranch, casting a soft glow over Evelyn as she stood at the stove, preparing breakfast. Her movements were precise and graceful, a testament to her years of experience in the kitchen. Glancing over at her son Clark, who sat slumped at the table lost in thought, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry in her heart.
The tension from the heated argument between father and son the night before still lingered heavily in the air, adding an uncomfortable weight to their usually peaceful home. Evelyn turned off the stove and walked over to Clark, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Clark," she said softly. "I know things got out of hand with your dad last night, but you should talk to him. Don't let this come between you two."
Clark let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "I know, Mom. I just... I feel like he doesn't understand. I'm not a little kid anymore."
Evelyn's heart ached for her son, knowing how much he yearned for independence and understanding from his father. But she also knew that Jonathan was just trying to protect their bond, afraid of losing it as Clark grew older.
"He does understand, Clark," she reassured him. "But he also knows how important your bond is, and that can make him act irrationally sometimes. Give him a chance. Talk to him."
Before Clark could respond, the shrill ring of the phone interrupted them. It was Chloe Sullivan on the other end.
"Clark," Chloe's voice sounded urgent. "You need to hear this. Mrs. Sikes is dead."
A knot formed in Clark's stomach as he listened to Chloe's words. Mrs. Sikes had been kind to him during his time working for her, and the thought of something happening to her made his heart ache.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.
"The official story is that she died in a fire," Chloe explained, her voice laced with suspicion. "But there's no sign of fire damage at the house. I think something else is going on...maybe even spontaneous combustion."
Clark's mind raced as he connected the dots. Tyler Randall had been at Mrs. Sikes' house the day before, and Pepper had disappeared without a trace after their encounter. The strange feeling he had about Tyler was growing stronger by the minute.
"I'll meet you at school," Clark said before hanging up, his mind already racing with the possibilities of what could be happening in their small town of Smallville. Something terrible was definitely brewing, and they needed to get to the bottom of it before it was too late.
As the afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the school's courtyard, Clark made his way to meet up with Whitney Fordman. The news of Whitney's father's deteriorating condition weighed heavily on everyone's minds. Mr. Fordman had suffered another heart attack, and Whitney was struggling to come to terms with it, avoiding the hospital at all costs.
Clark spotted Whitney sitting alone at a table, his head bowed and eyes fixed on his hands. He could see the turmoil etched on his friend's face.
"Hey," Clark said softly, taking a seat across from him. "How's your dad?"
Whitney looked up, his expression a mix of fear and guilt. "He's in the hospital. They don't know how much longer he has."
Clark nodded sympathetically, understanding the weight of losing a loved one all too well. "You should go see him, Whitney. I know it's hard, but he needs you."
Whitney shook his head, his voice cracking with emotion. "I just can't. I don't want to see him like that. I want to remember him strong."
There was a moment of silence before Clark spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "I get it. But trust me, you'll regret not being there when it matters most. It's better to have the man than just the memory."
Whitney gazed at Clark for a long moment, contemplating his words before slowly nodding. "You're right, Clark. Maybe... maybe I should go see him."
That afternoon, Clark, Chloe, and Pete made their way to Mrs. Sikes' house to investigate her death. The official report claimed she had died in a fire, but Chloe was certain something more sinister had happened.
As they approached the house, it became immediately clear that there had been no fire. The walls were intact, the furniture untouched. There was no evidence of smoke or heat damage anywhere.
"This place looks spotless," Pete said, frowning as they walked through the living room.
Chloe scanned the room carefully, her eyes sharp for any details. "Exactly. There's no way a fire killed her."
They moved further into the house, toward Mrs. Sikes' bedroom. There, near the foot of the bed, Clark spotted something glimmering in the light. He bent down and picked up a small ID tag—Pepper's.
"She had a dog, right?" Clark asked, holding up the tag. "Where's Pepper?"
Chloe's expression darkened as she pieced things together. "Pepper probably turned to ash. Just like the coroner in that Daily Planet article."
Pete raised an eyebrow. "The coroner who turned to ash? You think it's connected?"
Chloe nodded. "It's too similar to ignore. And look at this."
She pointed to the nightstand, where a single white rose sat in a vase. Clark's blood ran cold. The white rose—just like the one Tyler had promised Mrs. Sikes.
Clark exchanged a glance with Chloe, his heart pounding. "Tyler was here."
As Clark's investigation deepened, things were coming to a head at the Dutton Ranch. Lex Luthor arrived unannounced, stepping out of his sleek car with his usual confident air. He approached John Dutton, who was busy working on the tractor.
"John," Lex greeted, his tone cordial, though tension simmered beneath his words. "I wanted to check in and see if you were still planning to go to the game on Sunday."
John's expression hardened. "I'm going fishing. I don't need any more of your 'gifts,' Lex."
Lex raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in John's mood. "I was just trying to offer Clark something different."
"Something different," John echoed, stepping closer to Lex. "Like investigating our family behind our backs?"
Lex's demeanour didn't falter. "I was completely honest with Clark about that. You can ask him yourself."
Before the conversation could escalate, Evelyn Dutton pulled up in her truck, stepping out with a box of produce for Mobile Meals. She smiled politely at Lex but sensed the tension between him and her husband.
Inside Mobile Meals, Evelyn greeted Tyler Randall, who was already there, quietly arranging food for the day's deliveries. He offered to help her with the box of vegetables, but as soon as his hand touched the produce, it turned to ash, disintegrating before Evelyn's eyes.
Evelyn's smile vanished, replaced by sudden dread. "You… you killed Mrs. Sikes, didn't you?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Tyler's expression darkened, his gaze cold. "She wanted to be free."
Evelyn quickly turned to the man running Mobile Meals. "Hank, call the sheriff!"
But before Hank could dial, Tyler reached out, his hand brushing Hank's arm. In an instant, Hank's body turned to ash, falling to the floor in a cloud of dust.
Evelyn gasped, backing away, fear gripping her as Tyler advanced toward her. Just as Tyler raised his hand to touch her, Clark arrived, moving at super speed and positioning himself between his mother and Tyler.
"Mom, get out of here!" Clark shouted.
Tyler's eyes narrowed as he reached out, placing his hand on Clark's face. Clark's skin began to turn grey, and a sharp pain shot through him as life drained from his body.
But Clark's strength was greater than Tyler's power. With a surge of energy, he threw Tyler across the room, crashing him into a table. Clark's face returned to normal, but his heart raced as he realised Tyler's ability wasn't limited to ordinary people.
Tyler scrambled to his feet, staring at Clark in shock before disappearing into the shadows, escaping before Clark could stop him.
That evening, Clark sat in the kitchen with John, recounting the day's events. His father listened intently, concern etched across his face.
"He's not human, Dad," Clark said quietly. "I saw it… his heart wasn't beating."
John leaned back in his chair, frowning. "These meteor rocks… they've changed people before, but this? Turning people to ash?"
Clark shook his head. "It's not just that. He thinks he's helping people, but he's killing them."
John placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "You did the right thing today, son. But this isn't over."
Clark nodded, knowing his father was right. Tyler was still out there, and the danger he posed to Smallville was growing by the hour.
Later that night, Clark found Lana at the Talon, finishing up her shift. He approached her cautiously, still shaken by everything that had happened.
"Lana," Clark began, "I need to warn you about Tyler Randall. He's not who he seems. He's dangerous."
Lana looked at him, concerned in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Clark hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "He thinks he's helping people, but he's killing them. You need to be careful if you see him."
Lana nodded slowly, taking in the weight of his words. "Thanks, Clark. I'll be careful."
Before Clark could leave, Lana offered a small smile. "By the way… thank you for talking to Whitney. He told me what you said about his dad. It helped him go to the hospital."
Clark smiled back. "I'm glad I could help."
As Clark turned to leave, he ran into Lex, who had just walked in. Lex approached him with an easy smile, but there was something thoughtful behind his gaze.
"Clark," Lex said, "I wanted to talk to you. I've been thinking about those football tickets."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"
Lex smiled and shook his head. "I'm rescinding the offer. I think you should go fishing with your dad. Spend some time together. I don't want to come between you two."
Clark's smile was genuine this time. "Thanks, Lex. I think you're right."
And with that, Clark left the Talon, feeling a sense of clarity and resolve. But deep down, he knew that the battle against Tyler Randall wasn't over—and the darkest days in Smallville were still ahead.
The Smallville Cemetery was quiet, a sombre place where memories lingered among the tombstones and the soft rustle of wind through the trees. Lana Lang walked slowly between the headstones, her heart heavy. She had come to visit her parents' grave, as she often did, seeking solace in their presence, though it was a presence she could no longer feel in any tangible way.
As she rounded the corner to the Lang family grave, she was surprised to see Whitney Fordman standing there, his hands deep in his pockets, staring silently at the marker.
Lana stopped, giving him space, but Whitney turned, noticing her. His eyes, usually filled with quiet confidence, were dark and haunted.
"Whitney," Lana said softly, stepping closer. "I didn't know you came here."
Whitney glanced back at the grave and then shook his head. "I haven't," he admitted, his voice low. "Not until now. In all the time we've been together, I've never come here. I guess... I just didn't want to think about losing my parents. Losing anyone."
Lana nodded, understanding the pain he was carrying. "It's hard to face that kind of loss. But avoiding it doesn't make it go away."
"I know," Whitney murmured. "I just thought that as long as I didn't come here, I wouldn't have to deal with it. But now, with my dad in the hospital... I can't avoid it anymore."
He looked down at the Langs' grave, his thoughts a jumble of grief and guilt. "I'm not ready to lose him."
Lana placed a gentle hand on his arm. "No one's ever ready. But your dad needs you now more than ever. You should be with him while you still can."
Whitney swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. "Thanks, Lana."
He turned and walked away, leaving Lana alone by the gravesite. She stood there for a moment, lost in thought, when a voice broke through the silence.
"Lana."
Lana turned quickly to see Tyler Randall approaching. His presence startled her, but there was something in his demeanour—an air of desperation—that made her pause.
"Tyler?" Lana asked, confused and wary. "What are you doing here?"
Tyler stopped a few feet away, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I never did. I just wanted to help people—to stop their pain."
Lana's eyes widened in realisation. "You... you're the one who's been... killing people."
Tyler's face tightened, but his voice remained soft. "I wasn't trying to kill them. I thought I was helping them. Like Mrs. Sikes. She was suffering, and I thought I could give her peace."
"Peace?" Lana echoed, her heart racing. "You turned her to ash."
Tyler looked down at his hands, the guilt evident in his expression. "I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't want it to be like this. I thought... I thought I was doing something good."
Lana took a step back, her voice trembling. "What are you going to do now?"
Tyler looked at her with a sad, distant expression. "I'm going to try to help Whitney's father. He's in pain, too."
Lana's blood ran cold. "No! Tyler, wait!"
But Tyler had already turned and was walking away, disappearing into the night.
At the Talon, Chloe sat with her laptop open in front of her, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she pieced together the puzzle of Tyler Randall. Her investigations had led her to a disturbing discovery—one that Clark needed to hear.
As Clark walked in, Chloe looked up, her expression serious. "Clark, I found something about Tyler."
Clark frowned, sitting down across from her. "What is it?"
Chloe clicked on an article that popped up on her screen. "The toxicology report on Tyler shows that he was taking a lot of painkillers. He was in constant pain before he died. But here's the kicker—he didn't actually kill his mother. She recovered from her illness, and she was sent home from the hospital. She's alive."
Clark's eyes widened in shock. "She's alive?"
Chloe nodded. "Yeah. Tyler thought he killed her, but she didn't die. And now, with his new... ability, he's been 'helping' people by killing them."
Clark stood up, his heart pounding. "He's going after Whitney's dad. Lana just told me."
Without another word, Clark sped out of the Talon, his mind racing. He had to stop Tyler before it was too late.
At Smallville General Hospital, the dim hallways echoed with the soft hum of life-support machines as Clark burst into Mr. Fordman's room. His heart raced with urgency, knowing that Tyler was already there.
The sight that greeted him sent a wave of panic through his chest. Whitney lay unconscious on the floor, and standing over Mr. Fordman's bed was Tyler Randall, his hand outstretched, poised to end the older man's life.
"Tyler!" Clark shouted, charging into the room.
Tyler whipped around, his eyes wide with confusion and desperation. His hand still hovered over Mr. Fordman, the green meteor fragment embedded in his wrist glowing faintly. "I'm helping him, Clark! He's in pain—this will stop it!"
"You're not helping him," Clark said, stepping between Tyler and Mr. Fordman, his voice steady but firm. "You're killing him."
"I just want to end the suffering!" Tyler insisted, his voice cracking. He reached out, his hand twitching with barely contained power. "You don't understand! I'm saving them!"
Clark's jaw tightened. He couldn't let Tyler hurt anyone else. With a burst of speed, he rushed forward, knocking Tyler back, sending him crashing into the far wall. But before Clark could catch his breath, Tyler was on his feet again, his expression wild.
Tyler charged at Clark, swinging his fist toward him, his hand glowing with deadly energy. Clark dodged the attack, but Tyler was faster than Clark anticipated. His fingers brushed against Clark's arm, and immediately, Clark felt a searing pain.
Clark gritted his teeth as his skin began to turn grey and brittle beneath Tyler's touch, his energy draining. He stumbled back, stunned. How is this happening?
"I don't want to hurt you, Clark!" Tyler cried, his voice laced with regret even as he advanced. "But I won't let you stop me."
Clark staggered, his strength fading as Tyler reached for him again. He had to think fast—Tyler's power was stronger than he'd expected. He's not just a threat to others—he's a threat to me.
But Clark wasn't out of the fight yet. With a surge of energy, he caught Tyler's wrist before it could make contact again. The two struggled, Tyler's deathly touch inching closer to Clark's face. Clark's vision blurred as he felt his life force ebbing away, but he refused to give up.
With a final burst of strength, Clark twisted Tyler's arm behind him and slammed him into the ground. The floor cracked beneath the force of the impact. Tyler groaned, momentarily stunned.
Clark took the opportunity to subdue him. He delivered a powerful punch to Tyler's chest, knocking the wind out of him and rendering him unconscious. Tyler's body went limp, his hand falling to the side, the glow of the meteor fragment finally dimming.
Clark stood over him, breathing heavily, his skin slowly returning to normal. The fight had been closer than he'd ever imagined, and he realised just how dangerous Tyler had become.
Tyler Randall's eyes fluttered open, a dull ache spreading across his body. He was lying on a narrow, metal cot in a small, dimly lit cell. The air was cold, sterile, and the walls were smooth steel, devoid of any windows or cracks. His head pounded as the events of the last few hours came rushing back—his fight with Clark, the pain, and then... nothing.
Pain shot through Tyler's wrists as he forcefully tried to move his hands, but they remained heavy and restrained. Panicked, he glanced down to see thick, metal gloves encasing his fingers, suffocating any sense of touch or control.
"What the hell is going on?" Tyler muttered, fear gripping at his chest as he struggled against the unyielding restraints. But before he could fully process the situation, the door to his cell slid open with a sinister hiss. A woman clad in a sleek black suit entered, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She exuded cold authority, her expression unreadable but her sharp eyes scanning him calculatingly.
"Tyler Randall," she spoke calmly yet authoritatively. "I am Amanda Waller."
Tyler's mind was still foggy as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. "Where am I? Why am I here?"
"This is a secure facility," Waller replied matter-of-factly. "Somewhere you can't harm anyone else."
Tyler's heart raced as he gazed at his gloved hands, finally understanding the reason for their presence. "You're afraid of me."
"I am not afraid," Waller smirked faintly. "I am cautious. We cannot have someone like you running around, turning people into dust."
Tyler recoiled at her words, horrified by what she was implying. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just wanted to help—"
"Help?" Waller cut him off with a sharp look. "You killed multiple people. Your actions were reckless and dangerous."
Guilt gnawed at Tyler's conscience as he struggled to defend his actions, but Waller showed no signs of empathy. She didn't care about his remorse.
"I didn't want this," Tyler whispered, desperation creeping into his voice. "I didn't ask for this power."
Waller crossed her arms, pacing around the small cell with calculated steps. "And yet, here we are. You possess something very valuable, Tyler. Something most people can only dream of."
Confusion clouded Tyler's mind as he looked at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
"Your ability," Waller stopped in front of him, her voice low and dangerous. "To end life with a single touch. It is a gift—one that could be harnessed for great use."
Horror washed over Tyler as he realized what she was suggesting. "Useful? You see me as some kind of... weapon?"
Waller's smile was devoid of warmth as she replied coolly, "That is exactly what you are, Tyler. And with proper training, you could become even more effective."
Tyler shook his head, bile rising in his throat. "No. I won't hurt anyone else. I can't... I won't do this."
But Waller's gaze remained steely and unyielding. "Your feelings are irrelevant. The fact is, you are dangerous. But if you cooperate, we can ensure that your abilities serve a greater purpose."
The weight of his situation pressed down on Tyler like a concrete block. He was not seen as a person by Waller—just a tool to be controlled and used for her own agenda.
"I refuse," Tyler muttered, his voice trembling but defiant.
Waller raised an eyebrow, her tone still calm but icy. "You do not have a choice in this matter, Tyler. You are here now, and we will use your abilities when we see fit."
His hands trembled inside the gloves, but the restraints denied him any sense of human connection or warmth. Trapped both physically and mentally.
"I didn't ask for this," Tyler whispered again, feeling lost and helpless.
Amanda Waller turned to leave, her voice cold and detached. "That does not matter now. What matters is what you can do."
The door shut behind her with a final, metallic click, leaving Tyler alone in the sterile silence of his cell. He gazed down at his gloved hands, feeling like a monster and a prisoner all at once.
To Amanda Waller, he was no longer Tyler Randall. He was something far more dangerous—and far more valuable.
That same night, at the Luthor Mansion, Lex Luthor was in no mood for games. He had had enough of his father's constant meddling, and tonight, he planned to make a statement.
In the dimly lit study, Dominic Sanatori sat across from Lex, a glass of whiskey in hand, unaware of the drug that had been slipped into his drink. Dominic's eyelids fluttered as he tried to remain conscious, but it was a losing battle.
"You shouldn't have come here, Dominic," Lex said coolly, watching as Dominic slumped in his chair. "And you shouldn't have gone after the Duttons."
Dominic mumbled something incoherent, his words slurring as he slipped into unconsciousness.
The next morning, Lex met his father, Lionel Luthor, in Metropolis. The tension between them was palpable as they stood face to face, the air thick with unspoken challenges.
"I believe this is yours," Lex said with a smirk, motioning to the car where Dominic lay unconscious in the trunk. "I suggest you stop sending drones to interfere in my life—or the Duttons' lives."
Lionel's cold eyes flicked to the trunk, then back to Lex. Instead of anger, a smile formed on Lionel's lips—a rare sign of approval.
"Well done, Lex," Lionel said, his voice dripping with pride. "I see you're finally learning how to handle things."
Lex's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of satisfaction behind his eyes. He had made his point, and for now, Lionel wouldn't interfere any further.
Back in Smallville, Clark had one final request before the day was over. After everything Whitney had been through, Clark wanted to give him something special—something to honour his father while he was still alive.
With Lex's help, Clark arranged for the Metropolis Sharks to come to Smallville for a special scrimmage, with Whitney Fordman as their quarterback.
On the day of the event, Whitney stood on the football field, dressed in the Sharks' jersey, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude on his face. His father, now out of the hospital and sitting in the stands, watched with pride as Whitney took his place on the field.
Clark stood on the sidelines, watching as the game began, a small smile tugging at his lips. For now, everything felt right. Whitney was with his father, and for the first time in a long while, there was hope for the future.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the open fields of the Dutton Ranch. Inside the barn, John Dutton stood with his eldest son, Lee, and two of his most trusted ranch hands, Rip Wheeler and Lloyd Pierce. The group was gathered around the workbench, their conversation heavy with unspoken tension.
Lee was the first to break the silence. "Dad, we need to talk about Lex Luthor."
John's jaw clenched at the mention of the name, his hands tightening around the tool he was holding. He had been thinking about it all day, ever since Lex had paid him an unexpected visit that morning. "I know," John muttered, his voice gruff. "Lex has been digging too deep—into our lives, into the ranch. We can't let that continue."
Rip leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His face, as usual, was unreadable, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think Lex is working with his father on this? Lionel's the real threat. That man doesn't make a move without some kind of power play behind it."
John shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he thought about the Luthor family. "I don't know how much Lex knows, but he's too curious for his own good. And Lionel... Lionel's a different beast altogether. He's not just interested in our family—he's got his eye on the whole area. The way he and his company are pushing boundaries around Yellowstone, it's only a matter of time before he starts looking at our land."
Lloyd, standing by the barn doors, spit into the dirt, his face etched with concern. "Lionel Luthor's been nosin' around here for years, ever since the town started growing'. He's trying to reshape Smallville, and he'll push out anyone who stands in his way."
John nodded, his expression dark. "That's what worries me. The Luthors are smart—too smart. They won't come at us head-on. They'll chip away slowly, little by little, until they own the land around us. Lex's investigation into the car crash? That's just an excuse. He's looking for any weakness he can exploit."
Lee glanced at his father, worry clouding his eyes. "You think they've found something? Something they can use against us?"
John hesitated before answering, his voice low and heavy. "I don't know yet. But the way Lex has been sniffing around the ranch, it's clear he's looking for more than just information. He's digging for something bigger—something that could give his family leverage over us. And I don't trust either of them."
Rip spoke up, his tone as hard as the steel of the tools on the bench. "We're not letting any Luthor take this land. Whatever they think they know, we need to be prepared to shut them down."
Lloyd nodded in agreement, his face stern. "Damn right. This ranch has been here long before the Luthors came sniffin' around, and it'll be here long after they're gone."
But John's gaze remained distant, his thoughts turning to the broader picture. "It's not just about the ranch. Lionel's pushing for bigger changes—industrial changes. He wants to expand his company's influence into the Yellowstone area, and Smallville's growing fast. We're seeing the outskirts of town creep closer to us every day. It's only a matter of time before they try to swallow up everything around us—just like they're doing with the land north of here."
Lee frowned, stepping closer to his father. "What kind of changes are we talking about?"
"New developments. Factories, housing, maybe even mining," John replied, his voice dark. "Lionel's company has already started buying up land near the national parks, pushing for permits to drill in areas they don't belong. It's only a matter of time before they turn their attention to Yellowstone, and the ranches around here will be in their way."
Rip's jaw tightened, his usual calm demeanour slipping. "We won't let that happen."
"We can't let that happen," John agreed, his voice steely. "This ranch is all we have, and I won't let anyone take it from us—not Lionel, not Lex, not anyone."
The men stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy between them. The Dutton Ranch had always been their home, their legacy. But with the Luthors pushing their influence further into Smallville and beyond, the future felt uncertain.
Lee spoke up, his voice soft but determined. "We'll fight them if we have to. We've stood our ground before, and we'll do it again."
John placed a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "We will. But we need to be smart about it. Lionel doesn't play by the rules. We need to stay ahead of him—keep our cards close to the chest."
Rip, always the strategist, stepped forward. "I'll keep an eye on Lex. He's been asking questions about the crash, and that means he's already poking his nose where it doesn't belong. If he finds anything that could hurt us, I'll take care of it."
John nodded, trusting Rip's instincts. "Good. And Lloyd, I want you to check in with our contacts around town. See if anyone's heard anything about Lionel's next move. We can't afford to be blindsided."
Lloyd tipped his hat. "You got it, boss."
As the men dispersed to their tasks, John lingered behind, staring out across the fields of the ranch. The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the land he'd fought so hard to protect. But the Luthors were a new kind of enemy—one that wouldn't be easily deterred.
The threat wasn't just to the ranch. It was to everything the Duttons had built, everything they stood for. And if they weren't careful, Smallville's growth—and Lionel's ambitions—would push them out of the only home they had ever known.