Chapter 8 - Episode 5: Visitor

Meteor Freak

Episode 5: Visitor

Date: Friday, August 19, 2011.

Location: Smallville High, Smallville, Kansas

On Friday, Chloe, Tyson, and Clark walked up to Smallville High. "I gotta talk to the coach about joining the football team. We'll catch up later, okay?" Clark asked.

"Okay," Chloe agreed. As Clark started to walk away, she noticed Tyson moving to follow him. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Moral support. Catch you later."

"I still don't have a date for the wedding, and you're both leaving me alone now, too?" Tyson shrugged but didn't stop walking. She said, "Fine, but both of you, stop by the Torch right after school before you suit up!" He waved in acknowledgment, continuing toward the locker room.

Lana Lang hurried down the hallway, smiling. In her hand, she held a folded piece of paper with her name scrawled across it. As she approached the coach's office, her excitement grew. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her.

The office was a mess, and remnants of the fire that Coach Walt had set were still evident. Jason Teague stood amidst the ruins, attempting to salvage what he could. When he saw Lana, his face lit up.

"Hey," Lana said. They embraced, the hug lingering for a moment before they pulled apart. Lana held up the note, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She teased, "A note through the vent of my locker. Very creative."

Jason grinned. "Well, I pride myself on being able to revert back to the fourth grade."

Lana glanced around the office, suddenly aware of their surroundings. "What are you doing here? If we get caught, I could get detention. I didn't know if I'd see you again after Paris."

"You could get detention? I could get fired," Jason replied seriously despite his smile. "I was in a bad spot after my… hunting accident."

Lana's brow furrowed as she looked at him. Before Jason could elaborate, a knock on the door startled them both. They quickly stepped away from each other as Clark Kent and Tyson entered the office.

Clark's eyes landed on Jason first. "Coach Teague," he said, extending his hand. "Hi. I'm Clark Kent."

Jason's demeanor shifted more professional as he shook Clark's hand. "Hi."

Clark's gaze shifted to Lana, surprised to see her. "Lana. What are you doing here?"

"Um, I, uh..." Lana stammered, caught off guard.

Jason smoothly interjected, "The principal asked this young lady to assist me in cleaning up after the fire. Community service hours are required for graduation."

She pressed her lips together, fighting back laughter at Jason's quick thinking. Clark seemed to accept the explanation, turning his attention back to Jason. "You know, I didn't realize you were Jason Teague," he said, glancing at Lana. "This guy threw a passing record his freshman year at Metropolis University. He could've gone pro."

Jason's expression tightened slightly, a flicker of regret passing over his features. "Yeah, well, now I'm just a transfer to Central Kansas A & M. It's amazing how quickly you fall off a recruiter's list when you tear your rotator cuff. And now I'm here. Assistant Coach promoted to Head Coach after Coach Walt's incident."

Lana jumped in, her tone overly formal. "Well, then, I, uh, I guess we're lucky to have you here, coach."

"Thank you... Miss Lang," Jason replied, his tone equally stilted.

Lana mouthed the words "Miss Lang," trying not to let Clark see.

"Um, Quigley's still gonna call the plays for you guys. We're super short on numbers this week, after the suspensions, and with me still learning the system, it will be a tough game."

Clark shifted his weight, glancing at Lana before responding. "Well, actually, I'm not on the team. I was hoping I could join."

Jason's eyebrows rose slightly. "You look big enough. Sure. We need all the help we can get."

Tyson's gaze darted between Lana and Coach Teague, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was something about their interaction that seemed off, a familiarity that didn't quite fit. He recalled Lana being in the stands earlier this week. It was odd, given she quit the cheerleading team, and the issues she'd been having with Whitney. Tyson recalled her looking between him and Whitney, but in hindsight, had she been looking at the assistant coach, Jason?

Jason noticed Tyson's scrutiny. "Something wrong, Tyson?"

Tyson shook his head, pushing aside his suspicions for the moment. "Nah, just figured since Whitney is going to be out this week, we could use a replacement quarterback."

Jason's attention shifted to Clark. "You've got an arm?"

Clark nodded, a hint of confidence in his reply. "Sure do."

Lana stood awkwardly, her eyes darting between Jason, Tyson, and Clark. Jason maintained his professional demeanor, but there was a tightness around his eyes that betrayed his discomfort. Clark seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his focus on the possibility of joining the team. Tyson, however, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye. He watched as Lana fidgeted with the folded note in her hand. Jason's casual explanation for her presence in the office rang hollow, and the way they had jumped apart when he and Clark entered was beyond suspicious.

"I need your permission slip, bud." Clark fumbled in his backpack, pulling out a crumpled yellow slip of paper. He smoothed it out before handing it to Jason with a nervous smile. Teague took the slip, glancing at it briefly. "What positions have you played?"

Clark shifted his weight, and his discomfort was apparent. "None, actually. I've never been on a team before. My father wasn't too keen on the whole idea."

Jason's eyebrows rose, a knowing look crossing his face. "Your dad doesn't know you're here, does he?" Clark's nervous fidgeting confirmed Jason's suspicion. The coach's voice softened. "When it comes to defying fathers, I'm kind of a pro."

"I'm not doing this for him."

"You know, I've seen a lot of guys join the team so that they can walk around in a letterman's jacket because they want people to look at them differently. But football's just a game. If you want to change, you gotta do that yourself."

"That's why I'm here," Clark affirmed.

"All right. Let's see what you got. The game is tonight, so we're going to need to get you caught up quickly if you're going to play." He turned to Tyson, who had been watching the exchange with interest. "Tyson, come on, you don't know the plays anyway. You can help, and maybe you'll learn something."

Jason led them out of the locker room, calling back over his shoulder, "Thanks for the help, Miss Lang. Please stay out of the stands for now, I need Tyson to pay attention."

Lana watched them go, relieved. She heard Tyson defensively say as they exited, "For the record, I wasn't looking at Lana. I've got a date with the other prettiest girl in school, who also happened to be in the stands."

Jason answered, "Head on the game and eyes on the prize."

"My eyes were on the prize, coach," Tyson argued.

The morning sun beat down on the football field as Jason, Clark, and Tyson emerged from the tunnel. The grass was a vibrant green, freshly mowed, and marked with crisp white lines in preparation for that night's game. Jason strode to the center of the field, spinning a football in his hands. He turned to face Clark, who stood nervously at the edge of the grass. "All right, Kent. Prove something to me," he said, tossing the ball to Clark.

Clark caught it. He looked at Jason with some trepidation, but the coach merely gestured to the field encouragingly. Clark walked over to the line where Tyson waited. Taking the ball, Tyson bent over, holding it to the ground, while Clark positioned himself behind him, ready to receive the snap.

Tyson called, "All right! On two!"

Clark's followed. "Hut! Hut!"

Tyson hiked the ball to Clark. As soon as the ball left his hands, Tyson took off running, his feet pounding against the grass as he sprinted down the field. Clark gripped the ball, his eyes tracking Tyson's movement. Clark drew his arm back and launched the ball across the field. The football spiraled through the air in a perfect arc. Tyson adjusted his course slightly. As the ball descended, he leapt into the air and his fingers closed around the ball just as he reached the apex of his jump.

Landing smoothly, Tyson clutched the ball to his chest and sprinted the last few feet to the end zone. He turned with a broad grin to see Jason and Clark smiling back at him. Jason jogged over to Clark. "All right. That'll work." He patted Clark on the chest, the gesture both congratulatory and encouraging.

Clark's face lit up. He glanced at Tyson, who was jogging back from the end zone, still holding the football and wearing an impressed look.

Jason confidently said, "Looks like we've got a shot. Line up again, guys, let's go over some plays. Since neither of you knows what you're doing, you're not starting, but you'll see the field."

— Meteor Freak —

Clark and Tyson walked side by side through the hallway of Smallville High. The final bell had rung, signaling the end of another school day. Students rushed past them, eager to start their weekend. Clark adjusted the strap of his backpack, his mind already on football practice.

Kyle, a stocky boy who was also on the football team, approached them. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Clark. "Hey, Kent. Where's your little buddy, the firebug? You tell him payback's gonna suck."

Before Clark could respond, Tyson shoved Kyle, sending him stumbling backward. "Don't be a dick," he warned.

Kyle's back slammed against the lockers. His face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "What's your problem, New York?" he spat.

"It's not cool to pick on someone because they're different or because they can't defend themselves," Tyson said, standing his ground. "Keep it up, and I'll show you what it's like to be on the other side of that."

Kyle's bravado faltered for a moment. He glanced around, noticing the small crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation. "Whatever," he mumbled, pushing past the gathering students.

Clark remained silent throughout the exchange. As Kyle disappeared down the hallway, he turned to Tyson. "You didn't have to do that," he said softly.

Tyson shrugged. "Not to overanalyze, and I'm no doctor, but Cyrus is probably autistic. The headphones, awkward social mannerisms, the hyperfocus, it's obvious. Bullying is one thing, but picking on a kid with special needs is next-level messed up. Someone had to put him in his place."

"Yeah, you're not wrong, I guess. We should head to the Torch. Chloe did ask us to come by."

They made their way through the school, the tension from the confrontation slowly dissipating. As they approached the Torch office, Clark pushed open the door, revealing an unexpected sight. The office was still in disarray, but the debris from the fire and destroyed equipment had been cleared away. That wasn't surprising; the room's sole occupant was.

Lex Luthor was waiting inside, his attention fixed on the Wall of Weird. The chaotic collage of newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes, all connected by a web of red string, was located in the Torch's backroom, which had been spared the fire. Lex's eyes darted from one article to another, his expression a mixture of fascination and skepticism.

"Most of my friends are trying to get out of high school," Clark said, drawing his attention.

Lex turned around. "I was meeting with your principal," he explained. "Apparently, you guys are in dire need of a new computer lab... and a newspaper office. I figured I could help."

Clark stepped further into the room, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. "They might even name a lunch special after you," he quipped. "How'd you end up here?"

Lex's gaze drifted back to the Wall of Weird. "My plant manager, Gabe. He's always going on about his daughter, the reporter at the Torch. Thought I'd drop by and say hello." He paused, gesturing towards the wall. "She wasn't around, but I was struck by this."

Clark moved closer to Lex, his eyes scanning the familiar collage. "That's Chloe's hobby," he explained. "She thinks she can trace all the freak things in Smallville to the meteor shower."

"Interesting theory."

"Most people think it's crazy," Clark said with a hint of defensiveness.

"Maybe," Lex replied. He turned his attention to Tyson. "What's your take on all this?"

Tyson was aware of Clark's eyes on him. But he shrugged. "This place is weird as hell. That means something coming from a kid from New York. But I'm not sure connecting everything to the meteor shower is the right approach. I've been in town for only a week, and I've been beaten and strung up in a cornfield, and been in two fires. To me, it seems like small-town folks are just bored. Everyone around here needs more to do, to keep them out of trouble and doing dumb shit. That's why I'm going to renovate the theater on Main Street. Maybe with another place to hang out, it'll keep people from acting all weird."

"How very entrepreneurial of you."

Tyson quipped back, "Just trying to prevent being hung up in a field again."

Lex turned back to the Wall of Weird, his eyes scanning the chaotic collage of newspaper clippings and photographs. "Do you remember where you were when it fell?"

Clark looked down, his shoulders tensing slightly. "Not really. My parents hadn't adopted me yet."

Lex continued, his gaze distant. "And Tyson was probably on the East Coast. But I do. I was right here in Smallville. My mother wanted me to spend some quality time with my dad. He brought me here on a business trip. It was supposed to be just a quick hop to Smallville to finalize a deal. Funny how one day can change your whole life."

"What happened?"

"I was out in a cornfield when the first meteor hit. It was like a tidal wave coming at me. Then everything went black." He blinked, coming back to the present. "Next thing I remember, I was waking up in Metropolis General completely bald."

Clark looked down, his face etched with guilt and sadness. "Lex, I didn't know."

Lex laughed ironically. "Not many people do, Clark." He stood up and walked towards the wall, his fingers tracing the edges of a newspaper clipping. "I should've died that day. Instead, I walked away with this." He gestured to his bald head.

"I'm sorry," Clark said.

Lex turned back to face him, his expression softening. "Why? It's not your fault."

Tyson watched the exchange silently, his eyes darting between Lex and Clark. He wondered if this was the first hint of their legendary feud.

Lex continued, his voice taking on a contemplative tone. "When I was younger, I thought it was a curse. Kids figured I was a freak or on chemo. It took years, but I began to see it as my gift, the thing that defined me, that gave me strength."

"Do you ever wonder what you'd be like, you know, if you hadn't come that day?"

"It doesn't matter, Clark. It happened. Personally, I think my future's gonna be brighter than that spoiled, rich brat who walked into that cornfield."

Tyson snorted. "It's interesting how events like that shape us," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, I wasn't here for the meteor shower, but coming to Smallville has definitely changed me."

"Indeed. The question is, do we shape our destiny, or does it shape us?"

Before anyone could respond, the door to the Torch office swung open, and Chloe walked in. She stopped short, her eyes widening as she took in her visitor. "Mr. Luthor," she said, surprised.

Lex smiled, his demeanor shifting seamlessly into charm mode. "It's Lex. Chloe Sullivan, I presume? Your father speaks highly of you."

Chloe raised a skeptical eyebrow. "He does? And here I thought he was just bragging about his golf game."

Lex chuckled. "That too. But he's quite proud of your work here at the Torch." He gestured towards the Wall of Weird. "I must say, I'm impressed."

Chloe's eyes lit up. "Really? Most people think it's just a bunch of crazy conspiracy theories."

"On the contrary. I find it fascinating. Clark was just telling me your meteor theory. I like it. Especially since most people think my company is secretly behind everything that goes wrong in Smallville."

Chloe's lips quirked up at the somewhat self-deprecating humor. "That's the reigning theory."

"Are you the only one who blames the meteors instead of me?" Lex asked, amused.

"Pretty much," she replied, then paused. "Well, there is Mr. Hamilton."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Except most people don't have too high a regard for a guy who sells plastic meteor chips to tourists."

Tyson asked, "Plastic chips, really?"

"He sells the real ones, too," she added.

"Doesn't exactly inspire confidence," Lex said, shaking his head.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "But Mr. Hamilton's theories are fascinating! He believes the meteors fundamentally altered the structure of certain things in Smallville. Plants, animals, even people."

"And you believe him?"

Chloe shrugged. "I think he's onto something. I mean, look at all the weird stuff that's happened here since the meteor shower. It can't all be a coincidence."

"You'd be surprised. Some people are more open-minded than you might think." Lex said, "Call me when you're looking for a summer job. I've got friends over at the Inquisitor."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Talent like yours shouldn't go to waste."

"The Inquisitor? Isn't that the paper that ran a story about Elvis living on the moon?" Clark asked with a frown.

Lex chuckled. "They have their... eccentricities. But they're not afraid to publish unconventional ideas. It could be a good starting point for someone with Chloe's unique perspective." His expression turned serious. "After what happened to me during the meteor shower, I've learned not to dismiss the unexplainable too quickly."

She nodded eagerly. "Exactly! That's what I've been trying to tell people. Just because we can't explain something doesn't mean it isn't real."

Lex glanced at his watch. "I should be going. I'll see you all tomorrow at the wedding." He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Maybe I'll stop by Mr. Hamilton's place. If he's the only other person in town who doesn't hate me, maybe I should invite him too." With a final nod to the group, he stepped out of the Torch office.

As the door closed behind Lex, Chloe clapped her hands together. She turned to face Clark and Tyson, already putting her visit from the billionaire out of mind. "Guys, I figured it out," Chloe announced triumphantly. "It's magic!"

Clark's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Her grin widened as she launched into her explanation. "That was how Cyrus started the fire. The fire marshals found strips of magnesium powder hidden behind the blackboard. All Cyrus had to do was wait for the right moment, hit the detonator, and before you can say Presto..." She held out her arm, gesturing towards a blackboard set up on her desk. Suddenly, it burst into flame. "Instant inferno," Chloe concluded, satisfied.

Clark's expression remained skeptical. "I didn't see him use a detonator."

Chloe held out her other hand, revealing a small device. "Ah, but illusion is the art of misdirection, Clark. Trust me. This kid is more David Blaine than he is Wall of Weird." With a quick squeeze of a squirt bottle, she extinguished the fire on the blackboard.

He shook his head, still unconvinced. "All right, well, that still doesn't explain how he cured Tyson."

Tyson looked up, confused. Clark quickly clarified, "He healed the horse, not you."

"Maverick? Damned confusing horse," Tyson muttered under his breath.

Chloe's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "Yeah, I haven't figured that one out yet. But I'd be willing to bet that he faked that one too somehow."

"No, I was there," Clark insisted. "It was real."

She paused, considering his words. "Okay, well, I'm not discounting the possibility that he may have some magic healing power. But if he does, it's probably a byproduct of meteorite poisoning. He is no more extraterrestrial than you are."

Tyson's eyes lit up. "A healer? That's neat. He'll round out our D&D party pretty nicely." Both Clark and Chloe turned to look at him, their expressions deadpan. Tyson shrugged, unfazed by their reaction. "Actually, I think I'm going to head out and try to catch up to Lex," Tyson said, glancing at his watch. "We've got a few hours, and I wanted to see if I could borrow his Lamborghini for the wedding to take Kara for a drive."

Chloe's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way."

Tyson grinned, undeterred. "You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take, Sullivan. If you don't have anything else for the Scooby Gang here, I'm out. There are only a few hours before we have to be back for the football game."

"Nothing yet." She replied, shaking her head, exasperated by Tyson's antics.

"Alright, I'm out," he said, heading for the door. "See you at the game, maybe. And Clark, don't be late, it's going to be your big debut."

— Meteor Freak —

Tyson jogged across the parking lot, his eyes fixed on the sleek black Porsche. Lex Luthor was just about to slide into the driver's seat when Tyson called out.

"Heading over to the Meteor Freak's place, still?"

Lex chuckled, pausing with his hand on the door handle. "Yeah. Tagging along?"

"Yeah, I was hoping to talk to you, too," Tyson replied, closing the distance between them.

Lex nodded. "Hop in."

Tyson circled around to the passenger side, admiring the vehicle's smooth lines and glossy finish. As he settled into the plush leather seat, a sense of familiarity washed over him. "This car looks familiar," he mused, running his hand along the dashboard. "Is this the same one from that movie Bad Boys?"

"You've got a good eye."

Tyson laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's pretty cool."

The engine purred to life, and Lex eased the car away from the curb. As they merged into traffic, he glanced over at Tyson.

"So, you're buying the old theater attached to Lana's aunt's flower shop. It's all one property if I'm not mistaken. What prompted that?"

"I've got some capital, and Nell was looking to sell the shop. It's larger than what she needed, and the theater has been closed for a while. I needed a place to live anyway. I've been staying in the hotel." He shrugged. "It kills a bunch of birds for me. I have a place to live. Nell can stay in her shop at a reduced cost, and it gives me something to do with my free time, fixing up the theater." He paused, then added, "Well, once football season is over anyway."

Lex's eyes remained fixed on the road, but Tyson could see the gears turning in his mind. "I see. Have you considered its profit potential? There's not exactly a ton of money floating around."

Tyson leaned back, watching the Smallville scenery roll by outside the window. "There's got to be enough. With all the Luthorcorp holdings in the area, it isn't terribly depressed in Smallville, like I imagine the rest of the state is." He turned to Lex. "But you'd know better than me."

Lex's grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly. He seemed to be weighing Tyson's words carefully.

"You're not wrong," Lex admitted after a moment. "Smallville has its economic challenges, but it's faring better than many similar towns. Still, running a theater isn't exactly a guaranteed moneymaker these days."

A thoughtful expression crossed Tyson's face. "True, but I'm not that worried about it. I'm primarily helping Lana and her family. Lana had some ideas of doing more than just showing movies. The space has the potential for live performances, community events, and maybe even some educational programs. Diversify the offerings, you know?"

Lex raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "That's an ambitious plan."

"If it doesn't work out, then next year when Lana leaves for college, we can reevaluate our options. I guess I'm just trying to make the most of the opportunities that come my way."

Lex's eyes never left the road. "Opportunities have a way of finding those who are prepared for them. Or those who create them."

"Speaking of opportunities, I capitalized on one, and I'll be escorting Kara to your wedding. I just wanted to check and make sure that it's cool, me going with your sister."

Lex's expression remained neutral, but his eyes flickered with interest. "Kara can make her own decisions."

Tyson nodded, relieved. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "And since I put out that fire in your fiancée's classroom, I was wondering if you'd let me borrow your car? Figure I shouldn't show up riding the Kents' tractor."

Lex laughed at that. "I did say I'd think about that, didn't I? Better the Porsche than the Lambo. Why not? Just don't scratch the paint."

"Hell yeah!" Tyson exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement.

As they continued down the winding country road, Tyson couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and unease. The idea of driving Lex's Porsche to the wedding was thrilling, but there was something about Lex's easy acquiescence that made him wonder what the catch might be.

"So, Kara, huh?" Lex asked.

"Yeah, I was surprised she agreed to go with me. She's... different from anyone I've met before."

Lex chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

"So, you're not going to give me the big brother threatening his little sister's boyfriend speech?"

Lex's lips quirked upward, but his eyes never left the road. "Nah. She never said anything about a boyfriend. And I think Kara can handle herself."

"No doubt," Tyson mumbled, his gaze drifting to the passing scenery.

The sleek Porsche cruised down the winding country road, kicking up small clouds of dust in its wake. As they rounded a bend, a weathered mailbox came into view, the name "Hamilton" painted in faded letters on its side.

Just beyond the mailbox stood a dilapidated wooden stand. A hand-painted sign hung crookedly from one corner, proclaiming "Meteor Rocks $5" in chipped red letters. The car slowed as it approached a gravel driveway. Lex guided the Porsche onto the property. Killing the engine, they stepped out of the car; Lex's polished shoes were incongruous with the dusty surroundings. He surveyed the area, taking in every detail of the rundown property. A weathered barn was ahead, its red paint peeling and faded. Tyson joined him. He caught a glimpse of the Porsche's license plate. LX LTHR. He snorted but had to admit, it was kinda cool.

Lex approached the barn with Tyson in tow. The old wooden door creaked shut behind them. Inside the barn, lab equipment cluttered every available surface. He moved carefully through the cramped space, his designer shoes navigating around tangles of wires and stacks of papers. A shelf along one wall caught his attention. Dozens of meteor rock samples sat in neat rows, each carefully labeled and cataloged. Next to them, a jar of viscous green liquid seemed to glow.

Curiosity piqued, Lex reached out to touch one of the rocks.

"Ah! Don't touch that!" a voice called out from behind him.

Lex spun around. A black man stood in the doorway, his arms laden with cardboard boxes. His wild hair and rumpled clothes gave him the appearance of a mad scientist straight out of a B-movie.

"You're not sterile, and you're not me," the man continued in an irritated tone.

Lex straightened, smoothing his jacket. "My apologies, Dr. Hamilton."

Hamilton set the boxes down with a thud, eyeing Lex suspiciously. "Ugh. You don't have a website, do you?"

"Excuse me?"

"They're usually the ones who track me down," Hamilton explained with a grimace. "Freaks with websites."

Lex's lips curved into a practiced smile. "I'm just a fan."

"Lex Luthor," he added, extending his hand.

Hamilton ignored the gesture. "The billionaire's son? Mineralogists don't have fans." He jerked his head toward the back of the barn. "Come on."

As Hamilton turned away, Lex's eyes swept over the cluttered workspace once more. He followed the scientist deeper into the barn, careful not to disturb any of the precariously balanced equipment.

"Most mineralogists didn't handle the first Apollo moon rocks," Lex remarked, casually probing.

Hamilton's shoulders tensed. "That was a lifetime ago when I was a respectable scientist."

Lex's gaze landed on a test tube filled with a familiar green liquid. He picked it up, holding it to the light. "You know, we may have a few things in common. I was kicked out of Metropolis University, too."

Hamilton whirled around, snatching the test tube from Lex's grasp. "Uh-huh," he grunted, clearly unimpressed by the attempted camaraderie.

Lex watched as Hamilton carefully replaced the test tube in its holder. "Ever since I discovered my medical condition," he said, "I've become very interested in your work, Dr. Hamilton."

"And you think it has something to do with the meteors."

"Isn't that your theory? That meteors somehow alter cellular makeup?" Lex paused, allowing his words to sink in. "That sounds to me like research worth funding."

Hamilton let out a derisive laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, sorry, my funding is private, and so are my results."

"Your funding comes from tourists," Lex countered.

The mineralogist's jaw clenched, his patience clearly wearing thin. He strode over to a nearby table and grabbed a large, jagged chunk of meteor rock. "If you are so interested in meteors, here, take one. Enjoy it." He shoved the rock into Lex's hands. "I have nothing else for sale."

Lex turned away, studying the rock intently. "When you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said confidently.

Hamilton's gaze shifted to Tyson, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "What about you?" the scientist asked, his tone slightly less hostile.

"I'm a tourist from New York, actually, and I just wanted the meteor rock. You have anything small in a gemstone cut that could be slotted into a ring?"

Hamilton's demeanor changed. "See, that's more my speed." He moved to a nearby drawer, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a small, polished stone. "Princess cut, about 1 carat," he explained, holding it up to the light.

Lex's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Tyson. "You weren't planning on giving that to Kara as a gift, were you?" he asked warily.

Tyson caught the billionaire's response and mentally catalogued it. Lex definitely knew Kara had a weakness to meteor rocks, which meant he knew she was a Kryptonian, or at least knew part of the truth. But Tyson played it off, chuckling and shaking his head. "God, no, it wouldn't go with her eyes or her dress." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "But I don't know if we're at the point where I can buy her a sapphire. A little extravagant for a first date, don't want to seem too clingy."

Lex breathed a sigh of relief. The tension in his shoulders visibly eased.

"Thanks, Dr. Hamilton," Tyson said, reaching for his wallet. "You take card?"

As Tyson completed the transaction, Lex watched the exchange with renewed interest. The small green stone disappeared into Tyson's pocket, and the two men made their way out of the cluttered barn.

The Porsche's engine purred to life as Lex guided it down the gravel driveway. Tyson settled into the passenger seat, the weight of the small meteor rock a constant presence in his pocket.

"So, what's the plan for that little rock?" Lex asked casually as they merged onto the main road.

Tyson shrugged. "Since it seems to be the defining feature of this place, I was thinking of making my own class ring. Why not have some of the local unique gemstone inset as a reminder of my time in Kansas."

Lex nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Just be careful with it. Remember what Chloe said about those rocks... There might be something to it."

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, the Smallville landscape blurring past the windows. As they approached the gates of the Luthor mansion, Lex slowed the car to a stop and parked. He stood and turned to Tyson. "Keep it for the weekend," he said, tossing the keys to the surprised boy. "Make sure Kara has a good time."

Tyson caught the keys, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hell yeah, man. Thanks!" He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "If you need any help with the wedding, give me a shout."

Lex nodded, stepping out of the car. "I'll keep that in mind. Enjoy the ride."

As Lex made his way towards the mansion, Tyson slid into the driver's seat. He ran his hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel, still hardly believing his luck. The engine roared to life at the turn of the key, and Tyson couldn't help but let out an excited whoop.

He eased the Porsche out of the driveway. As he accelerated down the road, Tyson couldn't stop smiling.

He eased the Porsche into a parking spot on Main Street, the engine's purr fading as he killed the ignition. He stepped out, his eyes fixed on the quaint jewelry store nestled between a bakery and a bookshop. The bell above the door chimed as he entered. An older woman with silvery hair streaked with remnants of its original chestnut color looked up from behind the counter. Her warm smile crinkled the corners of her eyes as she greeted him.

"Welcome, young man. Is there anything specific you're looking for today?"

Tyson approached the counter. "Yes, actually. I'm in the market for a locket, but I have a rather unusual request. I'm looking for one made from lead or a lead alloy." Admittedly, he was more of a Marvel fan than DC, but he did know a bit about Superman, who didn't. Kryptonite was one of his weaknesses, but lead had some special properties as well. Superman couldn't see through lead, and it could contain the effects of Kryptonite on Kryptonians.

"Hmm," she mused, tapping a finger against her chin. "We get a lot of people pawning their jewelry here. Older pieces made of lead pewter are common enough. Let me see if we have any lockets specifically of that material."

She disappeared into the back room, leaving Tyson to browse the display cases. His eyes roamed over diamonds, gold, and gemstones. As he moved along the counter, a pair of sapphire stud earrings caught his attention. The deep blue stones were nestled in delicate white gold settings. He immediately recognized they'd go perfectly with Kara's dress and her eyes.

"Motherfucker," he mumbled under his breath.

The soft sound of footsteps announced the woman's return. She emerged from the back room carrying two lockets. One was sizeable and clearly meant for an adult to wear. The other was noticeably smaller, more suited for a child.

"Here we are," she said, placing both pieces on the counter. "These are the lead pewter lockets we have in stock."

Tyson examined both pieces carefully, turning them over in his hands. The larger one was heavy, with an intricate floral design etched into its surface. The smaller one was simpler, with a delicate engraving of a bird in flight.

"I'll take the larger one," Tyson said decisively. Then, gesturing to the smaller locket, he added, "But I'm curious about this one too. Would it be possible to have it made into a ring?"

The woman's brow furrowed slightly as she considered the request. "I'd have to ask our jeweler about that. It's not something we could do in-store. We'd need to mail it out, and it would take several weeks to complete."

"That's not a problem. I'm happy to pay for both upfront. If the jeweler can't make the ring, you can just refund me the cost of that one." His eyes drifted back to the display case.

"Of course. Let me just get these wrapped up for you."

As she carefully packaged the lockets, Tyson's mind wandered to the upcoming wedding and his date with Kara. But the locket... well, that had a different purpose entirely.

"Here you are," the woman said, sliding a small bag across the counter. "The larger locket is ready to go. For the ring, we'll need to get some measurements from you and discuss the design you have in mind. Would you like to do that now, or come back another day?"

Tyson considered for a moment; he checked the clock on the wall. "Let's do it now," he decided. "I've got some time."

The woman nodded and called out to the back room. "Frank? Can you come out here for a moment? We've got a custom order to discuss."

A man in his sixties emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed, and he wore a jeweler's loupe around his neck. "What have we got?" he asked, prompting the woman to explain Tyson's request.

"A lead pewter locket into a ring, huh? That's a new one." He picked up the small locket, turning it over in his calloused hands. "It's doable, but it'll be tricky. We'll need to melt it down, reshape it, and then set whatever stone you want in it. You have a stone in mind?"

Tyson nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small, polished meteor rock he'd bought from Dr. Hamilton. "This one," he said, placing it on the counter.

Frank's eyes widened as he examined the stone. "Well, I'll be damned. Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a piece of a meteor that hit Smallville, then yes," Tyson confirmed.

Frank let out a low whistle. "Now that's going to be one unique ring. Alright, let's get your measurements and talk about the design you want."

Frank took Tyson's ring size and sketched out some potential designs. As they spoke, Tyson had second thoughts about the design. "Maybe something like the locket inset into a wristband, like a watch, would be better than a ring..."

As Frank finished the sketches, Tyson approved the final design. The wristband would take weeks to complete, but he'd leave with the larger locket, earrings, and his meteor rocks.

"Alright, that should do it," Frank said, sliding the paperwork across the counter. "We'll call you when the ring is ready. Do you need anything else?"

"The hell with it. Toss in those white gold, sapphire earrings too."

— Meteor Freak —

The Smallville Crows huddled on the sidelines. The scoreboard's glowing numbers displayed their predicament.

Smallville 14, Granville 21. Two minutes left on the clock.

Throughout the game, Clark Kent and Tyson had been the driving force behind Smallville's success, each carefully holding back their true abilities to avoid suspicion.

Clark adjusted his helmet as his eyes darted to the stands, seeking out familiar faces. There was his mother, Martha, clutching Jonathan's arm, her face a mixture of pride and worry.

Tyson's gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on three particular faces. Chloe Sullivan stood on the track, not far from the team. As the school's reporter, she was allowed to take pictures at the field level. Lana Lang stood in the student section. Even from this distance, Tyson could see the green necklace she constantly wore. Further down the bleachers, Kara watched the game intently. Her eyes spent most of the game fixed on Tyson.

Coach Jason Teague paced the sidelines, his jaw clenched tight. The first quarter had been a disaster. He'd kept Clark and Tyson on the bench because they didn't have any game experience, and the decision had cost them dearly. The opposing team racked up two quick touchdowns. The only other score against Smallville had come when both boys were off the field.

Now, with time running out, Teague knew he had to make a bold move. He called Clark and Tyson over; their cleats dug into the turf as they jogged to his side.

"Alright, boys. We've got one shot at this. Kent, you're going to fake a handoff. Tyson, I want you running a post route." At Tyson's confused look, Teague sighed. "Just run straight, cut hard to the inside at the thirty-yard line. Kent, you hit him in stride."

The team broke from its huddle and took its positions on the field. The crowd roared as Clark lined up behind the center. Tyson took his place wide right. Clark's voice rang out, calling the signals. The center snapped the ball, and time seemed to slow. He dropped back, his eyes scanning the field. He faked the handoff, running into the gap and hunched over like he was carrying the ball. Tyson exploded off the line, easily outpacing the cornerback assigned to cover him. He could feel the defender's fingertips brushing his jersey, trying desperately to slow him down. At the thirty-yard line, Tyson planted his foot and cut hard to the inside, just as Coach Teague had instructed. The safety, caught flat-footed by the sudden change in direction, scrambled to recover. Tyson pushed himself faster, opening a gap between himself and the defenders.

Clark cocked his arm back before Tyson hit the 30, knowing where his friend would cut. For a moment, he forgot about holding back, about blending in. All he saw was his teammate streaking toward the end zone, and all he wanted was to get him the ball.

The football left Clark's hand, spiraling tightly through the air. Tyson's eyes widened as he saw the pass coming in hot, much faster than any normal high school quarterback could throw. He realized Clark had put too much of his super-strength into the throw. Pushing himself to move faster, he stretched out his hands, willing himself to reach the ball before it sailed over his head. The crowd held its collective breath as he leaped. His fingers brushed the pigskin, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looked like the pass might sail past his grip.

But Tyson wasn't about to let that happen.

With a final surge of effort, he pulled the ball into his chest, tucking it securely as he crashed to the turf. He rolled once, twice, and then sprang to his feet with the ball held high.

The referee's arms shot up, signaling a touchdown. The home crowd erupted in cheers, creating a wall of sound that washed over the field. Clark pumped his fist in the air, grinning from ear to ear. On the sidelines, Coach Teague let out a whoop of joy.

As Tyson jogged back to the sidelines, he caught sight of Lana jumping up and down in the stands in excitement. Kara remained seated but smiled.

The scoreboard updated to show Smallville trailing by just one point.

20-21.

The crowd's cheers intensified as the next play might end the game.

Coach Teague gathered the offense around him. "Alright, we're going for two. This is it, boys. Everything we've worked for comes down to this play."

He turned to Clark and Tyson. "Kent, you're going to roll out to your right. Tyson, I want you in the flat. If he's covered, Clark, you run it in yourself. Got it?"

Clark and Tyson nodded. As they broke the huddle and returned to the field, Coach Teague called out one last time.

"Kent! Tyson! This is your moment. Make it count!"

The Smallville Crows lined up for the two-point conversion. The air crackled with tension as both teams settled into their formations. Clark Kent stood behind the center, his eyes scanning the defense. Tyson took his position on the right side.

The crowd's roar faded to a low rumble as Clark began his cadence.

The center snapped the ball, and Granville's defensive line surged forward, intent on crushing Clark before he could make a play. The offensive line held, creating a pocket for their quarterback.

Clark rolled to his right as planned, his eyes darting between Tyson and the end zone. Tyson sprinted into the flat, but two defenders converged on him quickly. He pump-faked, hoping to draw the defenders off Tyson, but they didn't bite.

With the pocket collapsing and Tyson covered, he knew he had to make a decision. He tucked the ball and took off running.

A Granville linebacker read the play and charged toward Clark, aiming to stop him short of the goal line. He saw the defender coming and knew he had a choice to make. He could use his super-speed and strength to easily score, but that would risk exposing his abilities. Or he could play it safe and likely get tackled short of the goal line.

In that split second, Clark made his decision. He lowered his shoulder and braced for impact, meeting the linebacker head-on at the three-yard line.

For a moment, it looked like Clark might be stopped. But he kept his legs churning, pushing forward. Another Granville defender joined the fray, latching onto Clark's waist and trying to drag him down.

Just as it seemed Clark might be brought down, the pile surged forward before being brought down. For a heart-stopping moment, everyone held their breath, waiting for the referee's signal.

Then, with a dramatic flourish, the referee threw both arms up. "Two-point conversion is good!"

The stadium erupted. Fans poured out of the stands, flooding onto the field. Clark's teammates mobbed him, slapping his helmet and shouting congratulations. Tyson found himself at the bottom of a celebratory pile, grinning despite the weight on top of him.

As the chaos subsided, Clark helped Tyson to his feet. Coach Teague fought his way through the crowd, his face split by an ear-to-ear grin. He grabbed both Clark and Tyson in a bear hug, shouting over the noise. "That's what I'm talking about! You boys are something else!"

Chloe Sullivan darted between celebrating players, her camera clicking rapidly as she captured the moment for the school paper. She caught Clark's eye and gave him a thumbs up, mouthing, "Nice job!"

In the stands, Martha seemed relieved, but Jonathan Kent looked upset and disappointed. Lana Lang jumped up and down, caught up in the excitement of the moment.

The scoreboard told the story.

Smallville 22, Granville 21.

The Crows had done it. Against all odds, they had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. And at the center of it all was Clark Kent.

Tyson pushed open the main doors of Smallville High. The cool night air hit his face, a welcome relief after the stuffy locker room. In one hand, he carried his helmet tucked into his shoulder pads.

The parking lot was a sea of headlights and excited chatter as fans and players alike celebrated the unexpected victory. Tyson ignored the crowd, but a familiar figure awaited as he reached the borrowed Porsche. Kara leaned against the sports car, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. As Tyson approached, she raised an eyebrow at his gear.

"I hope you're not putting those things into this car," she said.

Tyson couldn't help but grin. "Kara, we keep meeting like this. I wanted the car to be a surprise."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "I ride in this car every day. It's the only one in town, and my brother isn't at the game. So either you stole it, or he let you borrow it."

"Maybe I bought it off him," Tyson suggested.

Kara's eyebrow arched higher. "Did you?"

Tyson chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, not yet. Wanna see how it drives first, really take it ripping down the highway. Best part about living in Kansas. All the open road."

Kara just shook her head, but Tyson could see the amusement in her eyes.

Their banter was interrupted by the rumble of an engine. Across from them, a pickup truck roared to life. Tyson recognized one of Smallville's linemen, climbing into the driver's seat. In the bed of the truck stood another student who wasn't on the team.

"Hey, I found that freak," the student said. Tyson recognized it was Kyle, the boy Tyson had shoved earlier for bullying. He'd called out from the back, "He's building a tower in the woods. Let's go tear it down."

The truck peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing against the asphalt. Tyson cursed under his breath. He knew exactly who they were talking about. Cyrus, the strange new kid who claimed to be an alien.

Kara's eyes followed the truck as it disappeared down the road. Her enhanced hearing had picked up every word, and while she didn't understand the context, she could sense the intent behind them.

Tyson turned back to Kara, his expression suddenly serious. "You know what, Kara? You're right. I'll walk these back to the hotel and come back for the car afterward. It won't take that long, but I don't want to make you wait." He paused, forcing a smile onto his face. "Thanks for coming out to support. I'm really looking forward to our date. Is it cool if I text you for breakfast? I know you'll probably have to do pictures and stuff before the ceremony."

Kara's smile softened, touched by his consideration. "That's fine. I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

Tyson nodded, then turned and jogged away, his gear bouncing in his hand. As soon as he rounded the corner of the school building, out of sight from the parking lot, he picked up speed. He tossed his helmet and shoulder pads into the bushes lining the school's wall, making a mental note to retrieve them later.

With his hands free and no one watching, Tyson unleashed his full speed. The world blurred around him as he raced after the pickup truck, determined to stop whatever cruel prank Kyle and his friends had planned.

He had to defend the healer.

Back in the parking lot, her smile faded. She'd seen Tyson's demeanor change, the way his eyes had hardened when he heard Kyle's words. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the speed at which he took off in the direction of the truck.

For a moment, she stood there, conflicted. Part of her wanted to rush after him, to help him with whatever trouble he was racing towards. But another part of her held her back.

Finally, she made her decision. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, Kara stepped away from the Porsche. She moved at a brisk walk until she reached the edge of the school grounds, then broke into a run. To anyone watching, it would have looked like she was just jogging. But Kara was moving far faster than any human could. She kept her distance, using her enhanced senses to track him without getting close enough for him to notice. Even though he was fast, he wasn't close to outrunning a Kryptonian.

— Meteor Freak —

The tower stood high above the trees; blue-green lights pulsed at various points along its structure. Cyrus moved around the base of the tower, his fingers dancing across a makeshift control panel. Wires snaked from the panel up the tower's length, connecting to various components.

"Almost ready," he whispered to himself. "Just a few more calibrations."

The sudden glare of headlights cut through the darkness, washing over the tower and Cyrus in harsh white light. He spun around, shielding his eyes with one hand. The rumble of an engine grew louder as a pickup truck approached. The truck skidded to a halt, engine still running, headlights trained on the tower. Cyrus recognized the vehicle immediately. His heart sank as the doors swung open and Kyle stepped out, followed by three of his friends from school.

Cyrus bolted for the metal staircase that spiraled up the side of the tower. His feet clanged against each step as he climbed.

"Where are you going, firestarter?" Kyle shouted. "You better get off there because this thing is coming down!" The other boys laughed and whooped, joining in a chorus of mockery. One cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, while another picked up a rock and hurled it at the tower, missing Cyrus but striking a metal support with a loud clang. Kyle taunted as he jogged back to the truck bed. "What are you gonna do, fly away?"

Cyrus continued his ascent, breathing heavily, refusing to look down. The metal steps vibrated beneath his feet as he climbed higher. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool night air.

"Let's teach this freak a lesson he won't forget," Kyle called to his friends as he pulled a heavy chain from the truck bed. The links rattled as he dragged them across the ground toward the tower's base.

"Come on, space boy!" Kyle shouted upward.

"Yeah, take him down!" one of his friends yelled, pumping his fist in the air.

Cyrus reached the circular platform at the top of the tower, his chest heaving. The platform was barely six feet in diameter, surrounded by a low railing. Above him, a metal apparatus extended upward, ending in what looked like a satellite dish pointed at the stars. From his pocket, he pulled out a small device, his transmitter, the product of months of work. He reached up and inserted it into a socket on the underside of the dish.

Below, Kyle looped his chain around one of the tower's main support rods, wrapping it several times before securing it.

The moment Cyrus connected his transmitter, the entire tower seemed to awaken. The device began to glow blue, pulsing with energy. Waves of electricity cascaded down the metal framework, illuminating the structure from top to bottom. Then a beam of intense blue light shot upward from the dish, piercing the night sky like a beacon. Lights flashed in sequence up and down its length.

Kyle was undeterred by the spectacular display. He dragged the other end of the chain to his truck and secured it to the front bumper, checking to make sure it was tight.

"No! Stop!" Cyrus screamed from above. "You can't do this!" He gripped the railing, his knuckles white. His creation, his connection to his real parents, was finally working. After years of planning, building, and hoping, he was sending his message to the stars. And now these bullies were about to destroy everything.

Kyle climbed into the back of his truck, revving the engine. His friends cheered him on, some recording the scene with their phones, others picking up rocks to throw at the tower.

"Please! This is important! You don't understand!"

The truck's engine roared louder. Kyle stood in the truck's bed with his arms spread, miming like he was on a surfboard as the truck prepared to pull forward. The chain grew taut as its metal links strained against the tower's support rod.

Cyrus looked up at the beam of light stretching into the infinite darkness above. Somewhere up there, he believed, his real parents were watching, waiting for his signal. This was his only chance to reach them, to tell them he was here, to bring them back to Earth, back to him.

The tower shuddered as the driver put the truck in gear. The chain clinked and groaned under the tension. He held onto the railing, feeling the platform sway beneath his feet.

"No! Stop! You can't do this!" he screamed again. "You'll ruin everything!"

Kyle threw his head back and laughed. "Do it!" The driver slammed his foot harder on the gas pedal. The truck's engine roared louder, tires digging deeper into the soft earth. The entire structure groaned as the tower began to tilt. "Whoa!" Kyle shouted, gripping the sides of the truck bed as it bucked beneath him. His laughter grew more hysterical. "Faster! Come on!"

Cyrus clung to the railing of the platform. "Stop! No!" he pleaded, his words lost in the cacophony of grinding metal and revving engine.

"Go! Go! Go!" Kyle encouraged his friend behind the wheel, pumping his fist in the air.

The tower tilted further, now at a dangerous angle. Cyrus struggled to maintain his footing on the slanting platform, his body pressed against the railing as gravity threatened to pull him off.

Tyson arrived at the scene, skidding to a halt at the edge of the clearing, taking in the scene before him. The tower listed dangerously to one side. Kyle stood in the truck bed, laughing maniacally as his friend continued to reverse, pulling the structure further off balance.

Tyson quickly analyzed the situation.

Bully jock playing the villain, and the healer in trouble. Rule number 1 - Protect the healer. Tyson had no idea how strong he actually was since absorbing Jeremy Creek and Greg Arkin's strength. Could he hold up an entire tower? Maybe? Could he stop a moving truck? Maybe, but at what risk to himself? His eyes traced the chain from the truck to the tower. It was the weakest point in this equation. Making his decision, Tyson sprinted toward the chain. He reached the taut metal links and wrapped his hands around one. Summoning his strength, Tyson pulled.

The link between his hands groaned, stretched, and then snapped with a loud crack.

The sudden release of tension sent the truck lurching forward. The vehicle bucked violently, its rear end lifting momentarily off the ground before slamming back down. Kyle, unprepared for the sudden movement, toppled backward out of the truck bed. He hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Atop the tower, the jerk caused Cyrus to lose his balance. His feet slipped on the metal platform, and his grip on the railing failed.

"Aaah!" He screamed as he plummeted toward the ground.

Tyson's eyes widened. He abandoned the broken chain and sprinted toward where Cyrus was falling. His feet moved in a blur, covering the distance in seconds. Tyson positioned himself beneath the falling boy, arms outstretched.

Cyrus slammed into his waiting arms with enough force to make him stagger backward. But he held firm, absorbing the impact and keeping Cyrus from hitting the ground.

"I-I gotta get back up there!" he said urgently, struggling to free himself from Tyson's grip. "My parents are coming!"

The tower had stopped tilting but now stood at an awkward angle. The blue beam continued to pulse into the night sky, though it flickered occasionally.

"Go," Tyson said, giving him a small push toward the tower. "Get up there then." He nodded gratefully and sprinted back to the tilted staircase. He began climbing again, moving carefully on the now-angled steps.

"Hey! I think his neck's broken!" one of Kyle's friends shouted, kneeling over Kyle's motionless body. The boy's hands hovered uncertainly over Kyle, afraid to touch him. "He's not moving!"

The other teens gathered around their fallen leader, their earlier bravado replaced by panic. One pulled out his phone, fumbling to dial emergency services with shaking fingers.

Cyrus paused halfway up the tilted staircase, looking back at the scene below. His gaze shifted between Kyle's still form and the pulsing blue light still shooting into the night sky. Conflict etched across his face as he hesitated, torn between his mission and the injured bully.

"Go, man," Tyson yelled. "If this is your shot, go."

Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the clearing from above, washing out the blue glow of Cyrus's transmitter. The beam swept across the trees, illuminating everything in harsh detail before settling on the tilted tower and the group below.

"They're here!" he exclaimed, his face transforming with joy as he looked upward. Then, just as quickly, his expression crumbled. "I can't help. I'll be stranded on this world forever!" He turned and continued climbing the tower. When he reached the top platform, Cyrus stood tall, arms outstretched toward the brilliant light above. His face was a mixture of hope and fear, illuminated by the harsh white beam.

As he stared upward, the source of the white light became clear. The rhythmic thump of rotor blades cut through the night air.

A helicopter hovered above the clearing, its searchlight trained on the tower.

A man's voice boomed through a megaphone. "This is the Kansas State Police! If you require assistance, please stay where you are. Emergency vehicles have been dispatched and will arrive shortly."

The words seemed to physically strike Cyrus. His outstretched arms fell limply to his sides. The hope drained from his face, replaced by a hollow emptiness that was painful to witness even from a distance. He sank to his knees on the platform. His lips moved in a silent monologue, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the helicopter, beyond the stars.

"I was wrong," he mumbled, his words lost to all but himself. "I can't be wrong. I can't be one of them."

Below, the situation with Kyle grew more urgent. His friends had backed away, afraid to move him. One was on the phone with emergency services, trying to explain their location.

Tyson looked up at the tower, then back at Kyle. He began moving toward the metal staircase, climbing quickly, taking the steps two at a time despite the dangerous angle. The metal groaned beneath his weight but held firm. When he reached the platform, he found Cyrus still kneeling, unresponsive to the world around him.

"Cyrus," Tyson said, crouching beside the boy. "Kyle's hurt badly down there. His neck might be broken." Cyrus didn't respond, didn't look away from the night sky. "I know this is a lot to take in. Finding out you might not be what you thought. But right now, someone needs your help."

But the boy remained silent, his expression vacant.

"Being on Earth isn't that bad," Tyson said, trying a different approach. "There are good people here. People who care about each other. People who help each other when they're in trouble."

"I know Kyle was a jerk to you. But he doesn't deserve to die. Not when you have the power to save him."

Cyrus didn't respond at all. The helicopter continued to circle overhead, its searchlight sweeping across the clearing. In the distance, the wail of sirens could be heard, growing louder as emergency vehicles approached.

"Cyrus," Tyson tried again. "We don't have much time." But he remained unresponsive, lost in a world of his own, his dreams of alien parents and a home among the stars had crumbled, and his mind seemed to have gone with it.

Tyson looked at his unresponsive face and made a decision. He slipped one arm under Cyrus's knees and the other around his back, lifting him easily. The boy felt light in his arms, almost fragile, like a hollow shell of the person he had been moments before. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you down from here."

The metal steps groaned beneath their combined weight. Tyson moved carefully, keeping his balance on the precarious structure.

When they reached the ground, Tyson carried Cyrus across the clearing to where Kyle lay motionless. Kyle's friends backed away as Tyson approached. Their faces had grown pale with fear and uncertainty. The helicopter's searchlight swept over them periodically as he gently set Cyrus down beside Kyle's still form. Kyle's eyes were open but unfocused, his breathing was shallow and irregular, and a trickle of blood ran from his nose. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and his limbs lay limp and unresponsive.

"Cyrus, I need you to come back now." The distant wail of sirens grew louder as emergency vehicles drew closer to their location. "Listen to me," Tyson said, giving the boy a gentle shake. "Kyle is hurt badly. You can help him. You can heal him."

One of Kyle's friends stepped forward hesitantly. "Is he gonna be okay? The ambulance is coming, but..."

Tyson glanced up at the boy, then back at Cyrus. He tried again. "I know you're hurting right now. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. But you have a gift. A real gift. Not from aliens, but it's still amazing."

Cyrus blinked slowly, the first sign that he was still present somewhere inside his mind. But his eyes remained unfocused, his expression vacant.

"Kyle is a dick," Tyson said bluntly. "He's a bully, and he tried to destroy something important to you. But you have a chance to save his life right now. That's power, Cyrus. Real power."

Cyrus's gaze shifted slightly, moving from the sky to Kyle's broken form. Recognition flickered across his face, perhaps, or the beginning of understanding. But then it was gone, replaced once more by that vacant stare.

The sirens were very close now. Red and blue lights flashed through the trees, painting the clearing in alternating colors. They had minutes, maybe less, before the authorities arrived.

Tyson sighed heavily. "Alright," he said, more to himself than to Cyrus. He leaned in close to Cyrus's ear and whispered, "I'm going to borrow your healing. You let me know when you want it back."

Tyson positioned himself between Kyle and Cyrus, placing one hand on Cyrus's arm. He closed his eyes, focusing on the energy he felt coursing through his own body. The electricity he had absorbed from Jeremy Creek tingled beneath his skin, ready to be channeled.

With his free hand, Tyson fingered the meteor rock in his locket. He took a deep breath and let the electricity flow. It started as a gentle current, running from his core down his arm.

Tyson ran his electricity through Cyrus and fingered the meteor rock in his pocket. He was as gentle as possible as he sensed Cyrus's power and pulled it out, into himself. The sensation was unlike anything he had experienced before. Cyrus's power flowed differently. Like warm honey, golden and pure.

The electricity from Tyson's fingertips acted as a conduit, creating a bridge between their bodies. He could feel the power resonating within the boy, a vibration that matched nothing he had encountered before. It wasn't the raw destructive force of Jeremy's electricity or the predatory strength of Greg's insect abilities. This was something else entirely. A gentle, nurturing energy.

Tyson closed his eyes, focusing on that rhythm. The meteor rock in his pocket grew warm against his fingers. He carefully began to pull that energy across the electrical bridge he had created. He drew it out slowly, strand by strand, careful not to take too much too quickly. He didn't want to harm Cyrus. The energy traveled up Tyson's arm, spreading throughout his body. It felt warm and comforting, like sinking into a hot bath after a long, cold day.

As the energy settled within him, Tyson felt a new understanding bloom in his mind. It was an intuitive and immediate knowledge of how to channel this energy to mend what was broken. With the transfer complete, Tyson gently withdrew his electricity, severing the connection between himself and Cyrus. The boy slumped slightly, his eyes still vacant but his breathing steady. Tyson turned his attention to Kyle, and the energy hummed within him, ready to be used.

"What are you doing to him?" one of Kyle's friends asked.

Tyson ignored the question, focusing instead on Kyle's broken body. He placed his hands gently on either side of Kyle's head, careful not to move his neck. The golden energy surged at his touch, eager to flow into the injured boy.

"I need everyone to step back," Tyson commanded. "Give me some space. I know first aid."

Kyle's friends retreated a few steps, watching with wide eyes. Tyson pushed all distractions from his mind, focusing solely on the golden energy within him and the broken body beneath his hands. He could sense the extent of Kyle's injuries now; the shattered vertebrae, the compressed spinal cord, the swelling brain tissue. The damage was severe, possibly fatal without intervention. With careful intent, he directed golden energy into Kyle's body. It flowed from his hands like water, seeping into Kyle's skin and spreading throughout his broken form. He could feel it moving, seeking out the damaged areas, wrapping around the shattered bone and torn tissue. The energy seemed to know what to do instinctively, requiring only the barest amounts of his direction and focus. It gathered around Kyle's broken vertebrae, knitting the fragments back together, rebuilding the delicate structure of his spine. It soothed the traumatized spinal cord, reducing inflammation and restoring connections between severed nerve pathways. It eased the pressure on his brain, reduced swelling, and repaired damaged blood vessels.

Kyle's body jerked suddenly beneath Tyson's hands, his back arching as the healing energy coursed through him. His friends gasped, taking another step back. But Tyson held firm, maintaining his focus, guiding the golden energy as it continued its work.

"Almost there," Tyson murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "Just a little more."

The healing was nearly complete. Kyle's spine was whole again, his nervous system reconnected, and the danger to his brain was averted. But Tyson could sense that the boy remained unresponsive; his mind retreated deep within itself as a protective measure.

With a final surge of the golden energy, Tyson sent a gentle pulse through Kyle's brain, stimulating his consciousness back toward the surface. Then, he removed his hands and sat back on his heels, suddenly tired.

Kyle's eyes fluttered open. "What... what happened?" he mumbled weakly.

His friends rushed forward, relief evident on their faces. "Dude, you fell out of the truck," one explained, kneeling beside him. "We thought your neck was broken."

Kyle's hand moved to his neck, feeling for injury. Finding none, his confusion deepened. "I don't understand. I remember falling, and then..." His gaze shifted to Tyson, suspicion replacing confusion. "What did you do to me?"

Before Tyson could respond, the first emergency vehicle broke through the tree line, painting the clearing in red and blue light. A police cruiser pulled up at the edge of the clearing, followed closely by an ambulance. Officers emerged, hands on their weapons as they surveyed the scene.

"Police! Everyone, stay where you are!" one officer shouted, approaching cautiously.

Tyson looked down at Cyrus, who remained unresponsive, his eyes fixed on the night sky. Then at Kyle, now sitting up and looking around in bewilderment. The transmitter tower still stood at its awkward angle.

"What happened here?" an officer demanded as he reached the group, his flashlight sweeping over the teenagers and the tilted tower.

Kyle's friends began talking all at once, their explanations overlapping in a confused jumble. Kyle himself remained silent, his hand still at his neck.

Tyson took a deep breath, preparing to explain the unexplainable. He glanced at Cyrus once more, hoping for some sign that the boy was returning to himself. But he remained lost in his own world, his dreams of returning to his alien heritage had been shattered, and his extraordinary gift now resided within Tyson.

— Meteor Freak —

Kara stood motionless among the trees, her silhouette blending with the shadows. She had followed Tyson, and now, hidden in the darkness beyond the clearing, she watched the scene unfold with perfect clarity. The night air carried every sound to her enhanced senses. She heard the metal groan as the tower tilted, felt the vibration of Kyle's body hitting the ground, and caught his friends' sharp intake of breath. Her vision pierced the darkness as effectively as daylight, allowing her to see the fear on the boys' faces and the vacant stare that overtook Cyrus as he lost all hope.

When Tyson climbed the tower to retrieve Cyrus, Kara tensed, ready to intervene if the structure collapsed, but it held, and she watched as Tyson carried the unresponsive boy down to safety. The gentleness in his movements surprised her.

"Kyle is a dick," Tyson's words carried clearly to her ears through her super hearing. "He's a bully, and he tried to destroy something important to you. But you have a chance to save his life right now. That's power, Cyrus. Real power."

Kara's eyes narrowed as she watched Tyson lean in close to Cyrus, whispering, "I'm going to borrow your healing. You let me know when you want it back." Then she saw him place one hand on Cyrus while fingering a pendant on his necklace.

No, not a pendant, a locket.

The air around them seemed to shimmer slightly, a distortion that would be invisible to human eyes but was clear to her Kryptonian vision. Energy flowed between the two boys. Tyson appeared to be drawing something from Cyrus into himself.

Then she watched Tyson turn his attention to Kyle, placing his hands on either side of the boy's head. The golden energy that flowed from his fingertips was visible to her enhanced vision, spreading throughout Kyle's broken body, seeking out damage and repairing it. With her x-ray vision, she could see the shattered vertebrae knitting back together, the swelling in his brain subsiding, the torn tissue mending itself.

It was beautiful, yet terrifying. Kara's breath caught as she realized what was happening. The power to heal was unheard of? But the ability to take another's power?

"Impossible," she whispered.

She had never seen anything like it. On Krypton, there were stories of those who gained different abilities under the yellow sun. But this was different. Neither of these powers was one any Kryptonian had ever had, to her knowledge. And Tyson was doing it with a level of control that suggested he had done this before.

As Kyle regained consciousness, Kara's attention shifted to the approaching emergency vehicles. She watched as police officers and paramedics flooded the clearing, their flashlights sweeping across the scene, peppering the teens with commands and questions. Through it all, Tyson remained calm, explaining what had happened while omitting the impossible parts.

The paramedics examined Kyle first. "You said he fell from the truck?" one asked, shining a penlight into Kyle's eyes. "And you thought his neck was broken?"

"It looked bad," one of Kyle's friends insisted. "He wasn't moving, and his neck was all twisted."

"Well, he's got some bruising, but no sign of spinal injury."

Kara's gaze shifted to Cyrus, who remained unresponsive as paramedics checked his vital signs. They spoke in low, concerned tones about his catatonic state, speculating about psychological trauma or shock. Eventually, they loaded him onto a stretcher and carried him to the waiting ambulance.

Tyson followed, speaking quietly to one of them. "He's been through a lot," Kara heard him say. "He's an orphan, and he thought his parents might be coming back for him. But then he realized they weren't. Finding out seems like it was too much for him to handle."

The paramedic nodded sympathetically. "We'll take good care of him. The psychiatric team at Smallville Medical Center is excellent."

Kara watched as Tyson stood by the ambulance, his expression troubled as they loaded Cyrus inside. He seemed genuinely concerned for the boy, despite having taken something precious from him. Or perhaps because of it.

The police officers continued to question Kyle and his friends about the incident with the tower. Their story was confused and contradictory, each boy remembering different details, emphasizing different aspects. Through it all, Kyle kept touching his neck, his expression a mixture of confusion and suspicion as he glanced repeatedly at Tyson.

"And you," an officer finally turned to Tyson. "What's your involvement in all this?"

"I was walking back to the school when I heard the commotion," Tyson explained. "I saw the tower tilting and Kyle fall. I climbed up to help Cyrus down, then checked on Kyle. Basic first aid until you guys arrived."

The officer made notes, his expression skeptical but not overtly disbelieving. "And the tower? What was that all about?"

Tyson hesitated, glancing at the ambulance where Cyrus now lay. "Best guess is that Cyrus built it. He's been going through some stuff."

The officer nodded slowly, making another note. "Alright. We'll need your contact information for the report."

As the scene began to wind down, the officers returned to their vehicles, the paramedics closed the ambulance doors, and Kyle's friends helped him to their truck. Tyson stood alone in the clearing, watching as the ambulance pulled away, its lights flashing but sirens silent. Kara remained hidden among the trees, observing as he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with what looked like exhaustion or perhaps guilt. He glanced once more at the tilted tower, then turned and began walking back toward the school. She could follow him easily, tracking his movement through the trees without making a sound. The questions in her mind multiplied with each step. What exactly was Tyson?

She kept her distance as he emerged from the woods. When Tyson returned to Smallville High, the parking lot was nearly empty. A few cars remained scattered across the asphalt, belonging to students involved in evening activities or staff working late. The football field lights had been switched off, casting the athletic complex in darkness. The main building's windows glowed with the harsh fluorescent light of janitors making their evening rounds.

He walked over to where he'd dropped his football pads and helmet and headed back out into the night. The run to the Holiday Inn helped clear his head. The rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement created a meditative cadence, allowing him to process the events of the evening. By the time he reached the hotel, his breathing was steady and his thoughts more organized. In his room, Tyson dropped his stuff by the door and headed straight for the shower. He turned the water as hot as he could stand it, letting it wash away the dirt and tension of the day. Steam filled the bathroom as he stood under the spray, eyes closed, face tilted upward. After drying off and changing into fresh clothes, Tyson checked the time. He still needed to return to the school and pick up Lex's Porsche. The last thing he wanted was to leave a borrowed luxury sports car in the school parking lot overnight. The walk back to Smallville High was quieter than the run to the hotel had been. The streets were mostly empty; the residents of the town had already settled in for the evening.

As he approached the school parking lot, he spotted the sleek silhouette of the Porsche. What he hadn't expected to see was the figure leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, waiting.

Kara straightened as he approached. She wore the same clothes as earlier, jeans and a simple white top, but somehow managed to look as fresh as if she had just stepped out of her house.

"Took you long enough," she said, her voice carrying easily across the quiet lot. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about the car."

Tyson slowed his pace, suddenly wary. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Kara replied simply. She pushed off from the car and took a few steps toward him. "I think I'm starting to get a read on you."

Tyson stopped a few feet away from her, maintaining a careful distance. "You mean beyond being a shameless flirt?"

She smiled. "That's just the surface. There's more to you than that." She took another step closer, her eyes never leaving his face. "I saw what you did. Healing Kyle."

The statement hung in the air between them, a challenge or perhaps an accusation. He forced himself to remain calm, to keep his expression neutral.

"Is this what it's like to have a stalker?" If you weren't so good-looking, I'd be nervous."

Kara's smile widened, but her eyes remained serious. "Deflection. Interesting defense mechanism."

"Kyle got lucky. The fall looked worse than it was."

"We both know that's not true," Kara replied. "His neck was broken. I could see it from where I was standing. And then suddenly it wasn't."

Tyson reached the car and pulled out the keys, trying to appear unconcerned. "And where exactly were you standing? Because I didn't see you anywhere near the clearing."

"I move quickly when I need to. I see things most people miss," Kara replied, stepping closer. "And Cyrus? Was he lucky too?"

The question caught Tyson off guard, and the implication in her words was clear. He inserted the key into the lock, buying himself a moment to think. "Cyrus had a breakdown. Finding out your parents aren't coming back for you can do that to a person."

"Interesting that you phrase it that way," Kara said softly.

Tyson felt exposed, as if Kara could see through his carefully constructed defenses to the uncertainty that lay beneath. He opened the car door. "It's getting late, and I should get this car back to the hotel."

Kara made no move to stop him. "You can run from this conversation, but not from what you are. What you can do."

Tyson stopped. He looked at her honestly and earnestly and said, "Kara, I'm not running from you, or this conversation." He quickly said, closing the door. He sat at the curb, patting the spot next to him. "They say the key to relationships is communication. We have a date tomorrow, and I've been looking forward to it. I want to have a good time with you and earn a second date, maybe, if we vibe. I don't want you to be suspicious, and have it put a damper on the evening. You have questions, so sit, and we'll talk."

Kara hesitated, her posture still guarded. Finally, she moved forward and sat beside him, leaving a careful few inches between them. "I've seen something I can't explain away. You said you could see auras, this is more than that." She turned to face him directly. "I saw you heal Kyle. I saw you take something from Cyrus first."

Tyson nodded slowly. "Yeah. That happened."

"How?"

"It started after the scarecrow incident. When I left the dance, a kid named Jeremy Creek tried to electrocute me, and something happened. I absorbed his power instead of getting hurt. The same thing happened with Greg Arkin, and Coach Walt and his fire abilities." Tyson admitted.

Kara's eyes widened slightly. "You can take other people's abilities?"

"Yeah. It has something to do with the meteor rocks." Kara flinched almost imperceptibly. If Tyson hadn't been watching her closely, he might have missed it. "The meteors changed people in Smallville," he continued, "And I was holding one that first time I absorbed a power, and each time afterward. Somehow, it lets me... I don't know, take what was given to them?"

"And Cyrus? His healing ability?"

"He wasn't dangerous like the others," Tyson said quietly. "I didn't want to take it from him. I was hoping he'd snap out of it and we'd become friends. Having a healer around would be handy with all the weird shit happening in this town. I told him he could have his power back whenever he wanted. But I couldn't let Kyle die, he's a dick, but he didn't deserve death. Or maybe he did, but I wasn't going to be the jury for that one. And I couldn't let such a valuable ability be wasted."

Kara was silent for a long moment. "But now he's catatonic."

"I know." Guilt colored Tyson's voice. "I didn't expect that. I think it was the realization that his parents weren't coming."

"And what about me? What do you think you see in me?"

Tyson didn't want to outwardly say what he knew from his metaknowledge. Instead, he answered, "Just like I said last time. I can see your aura. It shimmers around you, gold, like the sun. It's unique. All the meteor freaks… that's what I call the people who've been affected by the meteor rocks. They have an aura, but it's green. All the others had them. Jeremy Creek, Greg Arkin, Coach Walt, Cyrus, Jody, who you probably don't know. Lex has one, too. And I already told you about Miss Atkins. So, what do I know about you? I know you're special, somehow."

"But mine is gold," Kara repeated, her tone thoughtful. "Not green like the others."

"Yeah. It's brighter too. More intense." Tyson looked at her directly. "I don't think the meteors affected you the same way they affected the others. Or maybe at all."

Kara's gaze drifted away, focusing on something in the distance. "What does Lex's look like?"

"Same as the others."

"And what do you think all this means?"

Tyson shrugged. "Not everything in Smallville is exactly what it seems to be. Including you."

Kara was silent for a long moment. "You're right about that. But you're not exactly what you seem either, are you?"

"No," Tyson admitted. "I'm not."

"Where are you from, Tyson? Really?"

The question was loaded with implications. The truth was impossible to explain, and a blatant lie would only complicate things further.

So instead of answering, he said, "You first, Kara."

She remained silent. He knew the question was as unfair to her as it was to him. So instead of leaving her hanging, he decided to answer her question with a half-truth to relieve the growing tension between them.

"It's okay if you don't want to say. I shouldn't push you. I don't need to know all your secrets up front. Getting to know you better is part of the reason I want to go to the wedding with you. Maybe on our second date you can spill some more. Heck, maybe on our first one if I play my cards right. But to answer your question, I'm from New York. Truly. It's not exactly a secret."

They sat in silence for a moment before Kara spoke again. "So, our date tomorrow?"

"Yeah. For Lex's wedding. You asked me, remember?"

"I remember." Kara's expression softened slightly. "I'm still looking forward to it."

"Even after all this?"

"Especially after all this," Kara said. "You're interesting, Tyson. Not many people in Smallville are."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." Kara stood, brushing off her jeans.

Tyson rose to his feet as well. "So we're good? No more stalking me in the woods?"

"I make no promises. You're worth keeping an eye on." She stood. "I should go. It's getting late."

"Want a ride?" Tyson gestured toward the Porsche.

"Nah, I'm good. You should head back to that hotel room of yours and get some rest. You're going to need it since you'll be up early to bring me breakfast in the morning. Get ready, because besides our date, now that I know you can steal powers, you're going to use that ability on Miss Atkins."

Tyson stared at Kara's retreating figure, his mind racing to catch up with her words. "Wait, you want me to steal her power? On the day of her wedding?"

Kara paused and turned back to face him. "Why not? You said it yourself, she has some kind of ability. Something that's making Lex act completely out of character."

"Yeah, but..." Tyson tried to articulate his concern. "I thought her power was to be... You know, sexy. To make men fall for her. What if I turn sexy in front of all those people?"

Kara's eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked him up and down. "You're already sexy," she said, giving him a deliberate wink before turning and continuing her walk away from him.

Tyson stood dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched her go. The casual compliment had blindsided him completely. For a second, he couldn't formulate a single coherent thought. Then a small chuckle escaped, growing into a full-bellied laugh that echoed across the empty parking lot.

Kara didn't look back, but she smiled to herself as she walked. She hadn't planned to say that, but his reaction made it worth the momentary boldness.

Tyson finally managed to collect himself as her silhouette disappeared around a corner, still shaking his head in disbelief.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered to himself, still smiling as he climbed into the Porsche.

The engine purred to life beneath him, and he sat for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel. Tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least. A wedding, a date with Kara, and apparently a plan to steal the bride's mysterious power.

Well, a plan might be an exaggeration. But he'd figure it out.

After all, he wasn't about to fumble a date with Supergirl.