Crisis Part 5

At a café near Granville…

Lana sat in a booth across from Flopsy. The stuffed rabbit was saving a seat for Mr. Dinsmore, who would be arriving shortly. Lana only thought it right that Emily's father should get to keep the treasured toy. Mr. Dinsmore was too late to see his daughter one last time, so Lana agreed to meet him halfway.

The setup of her sitting at a table with a stuffed animal reminded Lana of the tea parties she would play with Emily.

One lump or two, Mr. Flopsy? Lana smiled at the joke as she added sugar packets and creamer to make the gritty coffee palpable. As she stirred the mixture, Mr. Dinsmore walked through the door.

"Mr. Dinsmore," Lana raised her hand so he could find where she was sitting. The man slumped into the seat, and he looked exhausted. Before Emily's accident, Lana had always known Mr. Dinsmore to be smiling with enough energy to chase two children around.

"I know this must be difficult for you."

The man nodded slowly and picked up the rabbit. "The nurses told me I was too late. I was out of town; work conference. I couldn't get here in time."

"I got to speak with her." Lana said gently. "She had aged. It seemed like she didn't know how much."

"She looked so much like her mother." Mr. Dinsmore pulled out a photo. "The current project lead reached out to me last month. The acceleration of her molecular structure became unstable. I could have fixed it. But they wouldn't let me see her; they wouldn't let me cure her."

Lana took the photo and looked at the girl within. Emily had not been lying when she said they could have passed as sisters.

"Emily said she liked her room." Lana omitted how she had been removed from it. "And she, um, helped everyone when one of those things attacked the hospital. Don't know if you saw the recent Smallville headlines."

"That's my girl," Mr. Dinsmore said, a tear falling down his cheek. "She's really gone. Isn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe," Mr. Dinsmore whispered as he shook the toy's paw. "Maybe…"

"Mr. Dinsmore," Lana coughed, "I know you're in pain, but is trying to clone your daughter again the best idea?"

"I could do it better this time. I can fix the mistakes. I'd have to get the equipment first, but…"

Mr. Dinsmore stopped speaking as he became lost in his musings. Lana sipped her coffee and got lost in thoughts of her own. She thought back to finding the secret lab in the basement of Emily's house. There had been three chambers of sleeping Emilys, tied up with tubes. Among the various equipment were vats of glowing green liquid. Chloe had gone on and on about how Mr. Dinsmore must have used meteor rocks somehow in the process.

Lana could only see death in the meteor rocks.

But this man looked to them for hope.

At Luthor Corp…

Lionel surveyed the view from his office. He was feeling in control again. Word was out about the secret lab after the test subjects had escaped. As far as the paperwork was considered, Lex was in charge of that fiasco; his son would deal with the aftermath. And Lex would either succeed or he would fail.

And the Sullivan girl finally came through.

Lionel had written her off as a failure a month back. After ensuring her father would never work again and her potential career was destroyed, just so the girl would know it never paid to fail Lionel Luthor, the corporate CEO forgot all about Chloe Sullivan. And he turned his attention to the other projects at his disposal. Like Emily Dinsmore.

The clone was dying. His scientists had gotten all the information they needed from her. With Emily's speed, he sent her to obtain the blood sample from Clark Kent. But the worthless experiment had failed him and died before completing her mission.

And then, Chloe, ever resourceful, managed to get a message to his personal assistant.

I have the package.

Lionel ordered her to see him as soon as possible. This was it. He was confident Clark Kent was the mysterious source. Perhaps he couldn't run faster than a speeding bullet or be bulletproof as Lionel had first theorized, but Clark's blood could still have the amazing properties he sought.

"Well?" Lionel questioned as Chloe walked into his office.

"Here it is." Chloe held up a napkin with a rust colored stain.

Dr. Teng collected it and made the necessary preparations to analyze the sample. Lionel watched her every movement as he waited in anticipation.

Chloe coughed in a juvenile attempt to get his attention. "Does my dad get his job back?"

Lionel ignored her as he waited on Dr. Teng's confirmation. "Well?"

"It's not a match," Dr. Teng declared, still looking at the sample.

Lionel clenched his fists. That was not possible.

"Look again." Lionel ordered.

"Mr. Luthor…" Dr. Teng said slowly, "this blood is not a match."

"No, no. No!" Lionel knew Clark was the source. He had to be. There were too many coincidences revolving around the boy.

"What did you give me?" Lionel growled as he physically pushed Chloe Sullivan against the wall. The girl yelped and Dr. Teng made a gasp of protest.

"What you asked for: Clark's blood."

Lionel peered straight into Chloe's eyes. The girl was rightfully terrified.

"You're lying!"

"I'm not! Why would I? My dad needs his job back. Look, if you don't believe me, there's film footage of Clark hitting his head on Main Street. That's how I got it."

Chloe inhaled sharply as Lionel released his hold. "Get out."

"What about my dad?"

"GET OUT!" Lionel shouted. He threw paper weights, his laptop, anything he could get his hands on towards the heads of the intruders. Both women retreated out of the office, leaving Lionel Luthor alone.

It couldn't be over. It couldn't.

Lionel Luthor did not lose.

At the Luthor Mansion…

Recap:

The detectives uncover documents with Lex's name on them, connecting him to the lab. Just as they put him in handcuffs, FBI agent Loder shows up. Lex tells Loder to give him immunity and drop all charges. In return, he'll give the FBI Lionel Luthor.

On Main Street…

If there was one thing Jordan could do, it was run.

The day that list of names came out, Jordan began to receive the stares. The whispers; the jeers and the cold shoulders. Van should be dead by now, so Jordan didn't need to fear a bullet. But life would never return to normal.

For one thing, people who believed the same as Van had become more vocal. They began to mock and even threaten anyone they came across on the hitlist. Jordan had just been walking down Main Street when one of the jocks had grabbed him by his shirt and started yelling in his face. Jordan had leapt back, causing his shirt sleeve to rip. The next thing Jordan knew, five more jocks had appeared, and they began to chase him down the street.

A car drove up and screeched to a halt a few feet in front of him.

"Get in!" The driver shouted from inside.

Jordan peered in and saw the driver was Megan. Once inside, Megan hit the gas pedal and soon the mob of goons was behind them.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, since I made it on the Freaks List, they wanted a souvenir." Jordan shuddered as he looked at his torn shirt.

"Guess I'm lucky. I'm old news."

"Is that what goes for luck?"

"Yeah. How sad is that? Are you sure you're not bleeding?"

Megan touched Jordan's shoulder with a free hand. The inside of the car faded as the veil was lifted. Megan was screaming as Van McNulty pulled her across the floor. Megan became trapped behind glass and somehow appeared to be drowning.

"No!" Jordan paled.

"Jordan?"

"It changed. It changed! Why did it change?" Jordan trembled as he realized Van must still be alive somehow. "Megan, listen to me. Get out of town. Get as far away from here as you can. Or find Clark."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can see how people die. And yours changed. You were supposed to be older. But now, you have days!"

Megan took the news rather calmly. "Can people change what you see?"

"No. Kinda. I mean, yours changed once before. It's complicated."

"Then it can change again."

"Maybe," Jordan stuttered. "But really, you should run."

"No." Megan said with determination.

"No?"

"I'm done, Jordan. I'm done being bullied. I'm done hiding. Besides," Megan gripped the steering wheel, "I don't think I'm alone."