Chapter 61: Why is this bald head glowing green?
Smallville High School, Grand Auditorium.
Usually, this place was used to accommodate a thousand students to listen to Principal Waddington's great speech about not running in the hallways.
But looking at it today...
If the principal really dared to give a speech here about how not to run in the hallways, the group of angry farmers sitting on the chairs below would undoubtedly rush onto the stage and tear him apart with their bare hands.
Plain Safety Engineering Community Safety Responsibility Briefing.
Chloe took a picture, then quietly placed the recorder on her knees, covering it with the side of her canvas bag. Her movements were smooth and flowing, leaving even Clarkstunned watching beside her.
"Everyone, I am Gerald Matthews."
The man on the stage was putting on his performance.
Gerald Matthews.
The Vice President of Public Relations for Plain Safety Engineering.
"First, on behalf of Plain Safety Engineering, I express my most sincere apologies to all the residents of Smallville."
Speaking, Matthews bowed.
A wave of boos came from below.
"Over the past few weeks, in response to the verification findings of the Kansas State Fire Safety Inspection Office, we have conducted a comprehensive internal audit and self-examination. I can responsibly tell everyone..."
Matthews straightened up, his expression unchanged.
"Problems do exist, but it's not that we are not handling this matter; it's just that there isn't a single thing among them that we can figure out immediately. After all, our company always emphasizes human effort, and we need to figure out a way to launch a one-by-one re-inspection plan for all Kansas projects."
"After the re-inspection, we will make the complete report public."
What was said seemed no different from saying nothing.
Clark frowned slightly.
"And now, I am willing to accept your questions."
Matthews smiled and spread his hands.
"Mr. Matthews!" An angry farmer stood up, "I'm just asking you, who signed off when the fire hydrant was inspected and accepted four years ago?"
"That is a very good question," Matthews said solemnly, "Currently, our internal audit team is verifying each inspection and acceptance record one by one."
"I'm not asking what you are doing, I'm asking what the signer's name is!"
"Due to specific personnel information and ongoing internal investigation procedures, I am temporarily unable to disclose individuals."
"Do you also follow procedures when lining your own pockets?!"
An angry farmer roared.
A low chorus of agreement immediately sounded in the auditorium.
Unruly citizens!
But thankfully.
He could even handle Gothamites after all.
Matthews cleared his throat, "I completely understand everyone's anger and worry, and that is precisely why we are standing here today."
More nonsense.
Clark's temples throbbed twice.
He took a deep breath to push back the impulse.
Don't rush, Clark. Suppose you are a reporter now; reporters cannot rush onto the stage and loosen the speaker's tie.
"Everyone one by one, one by one," Principal Waddington stood up from the side to smooth things over, "Next, please raise your hand."
Then two or three more farmers stood up and asked similar questions.
When will the fire hydrants be repaired? Who will compensate for the losses? What about the previously signed contracting contracts?
So Matthews repeated basically the same answer with different sentence structures, and Clark gradually began to understand why Arlie said that systems sometimes become nice-looking mirrors hanging on the wall.
"Matthews!"
Another person stood up. He was sitting right behind Clark, but had been silent until now, making the small-town youth not even notice his presence.
In his forties, somewhat lean in build.
"Mr. Matthews," he low-snorted, "Your T-4 underground fire hydrants."
Are there professionals?
Which competitor hired someone to back up these farmers?
"Please speak," Matthews forced a smile.
"T-4 underground fire hydrants have a risk of cracking under temperature differences; the manufacturer released a product announcement back in the year 2000."
"Yet in your engineering projects, Plain still installed forty-seven T-4 fire hydrants across six townships including Smallville, while the procurement list you submitted to the county government said T-800 series."
He pulled a photo out of his pocket.
"How many fires were caused because of you?"
He raised the photo in front of everyone.
Clark glanced sideways slightly, Super Vision zooming in to analyze.
Scorched earth, or rather, the wreckage of a house.
The auditorium quieted down.
"Crawford Street?" Clark murmured, reading out the faint house number in front of the building.
Upon hearing this, Chloe was stunned on the spot.
Then she carefully pulled out a fire record from the documents in her bag.
Crawford Street?
She recognized this address.
When she was organizing Smallville's recent fire reports, she had paid attention to this matter.
It was said that this fire resulted in one death and one injury.
Could it be...
Chloe raised her head and looked again at the man standing in the back row.
But he had already put the photo away and tucked it back into his pocket.
"Sir, I am very grateful for these technical details you provided," Matthews remained calm, "This information is very valuable to our internal audit work. I will make sure to forward your questions to the relevant technical department..."
"Forwarded," the man replied expressionlessly.
"Yes, forwarded to the technical department and legal department for simultaneous processing, we will..."
"Mr. Matthews," the man interrupted him, "I don't need you to forward anything."
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
He turned sideways and left.
Watching the man's figure disappear, Matthews breathed a sigh of relief.
People off stage began whispering to each other.
"Did you see that?"
Chloe lowered her voice and leaned toward Pietro, intuition telling her there was something extraordinary inside, "The photo in that man's hand, Crawford Street, is the one in last month's fire report..."
"Which one?"
Pietro's voice carried a bit of uncertainty.
"The one with one dead and one injured!"
Pietro gasped a breath of cold air.
And on the stage, Mr. Matthews finally unleashed his final trump card of the day.
Continuing to bow.
"Once again, on behalf of Plain Safety Engineering, I express my deepest apologies to all affected residents!"
"That's all for today, gentlemen."
Chloe curled her lips, turning her head ready to mutter a few words with Clark.
But...
Empty.
The girl was stunned.
"...When did he leave?" She looked toward Pietro.
"He's always like this."
Pietro shrugged, "Nobody ever knows when he disappears."
Chloe looked at the fire door leading backstage; the small door was currently swaying amidst the clamor of the crowd.
"Thank you very much, Lex."
"Not at all, I should be thanking you for your help with our White Tower project."
"Hahahaha..."
Matthews laughed loudly in the lounge, loosening his tie halfway, transforming from the public relations machine on stage into a golf buddy enjoying afternoon tea with a business partner.
And indeed that was the case.
The bald man opposite him sat like that on the lounge sofa with his legs crossed.
"If you hadn't helped in advance to greet the inspection team from the state, today's briefing probably wouldn't have gone so smoothly; that bunch of old farmers almost flipped the venue," Matthews said warmly.
"Gerald, friends don't need to say such things between them."
Lex's voice was calm as ever.
But...
Clark stopped in the hallway.
He had originally come for backstage because he was fed up with the act at the front desk; he wanted to find Matthews himself and ask him in an environment without microphones and audiences the questions he refused to answer on stage.
Yet he did not anticipate this scene.
The good friend he had just made recently was actually with this guy Gerald Matthews...
"The meteorological project? Perhaps we can continue our in-depth cooperation," Matthews put down his coffee cup, pulled a folder out of his leather bag and handed it over, "These are the conditions we can offer on our end, take a look..."
"Just put it on the coffee table, I'll have someone look at it later," Lex casually took it, tossing it aside without even flipping through it.
"Then this matter is..."
"Mr. Gerald."
Matthews's words were interrupted.
But seeing at the lounge door.
A tall figure stood there, his blue eyes looking almost gray under the dim light.
Like the sea before a storm arrives.
"You are..." Matthews was stunned.
"Is that... Clark?" Lex raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"
"I came to attend the briefing," Clark frowned, "Though it looks like you two have already started a much more private one."
"This is just a private catch-up," Lex smiled, "Gerald and LexCorp have some normal business dealings. Today he happened to be in Smallville, so we met up by the way."
"By the way?"
"Yes, purely coincidental."
Clark was silent for a moment.
His Super Hearing caught the frequency of Lex's heartbeat.
A bit different...
But he couldn't say what was wrong; right now, he still couldn't rely on heartbeats, blood, and breathing like Arlieto determine whether someone was lying.
"This is my friend Clark." Lex gave a light cough, "Matthews, he's the one who rescued that girl in the last fire and found some of your fire hydrants... Ahem."
"I see." Matthews wore an apologetic expression, "We really depend on your Super Vision, Mr. Clark."
"Mr. Matthews, I didn't come here to listen to this." Clarkfrowned, "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you face-to-face."
"Mr. Clark, at the briefing I already answered all..."
"You didn't answer a single question." Clark said straightforwardly, "You were just bowing on stage."
"I..."
"Clark." Smiling apologetically at Matthews, Lex cleared his throat, "Some matters are handled in ways much more complicated than they appear. Public briefings have their own rules, and many details involving legal liabilities are not suitable for open discussion in public settings. This is to protect both sides outwardly."
"Protect?"
Clark completely failed to understand, "Is it to protect us, who almost burned to death because the fire hydrant wouldn't output water? Or to protect the gentleman on stage from being besieged by angry farmers?"
Matthews was so furious he laughed instead.
A country boy actually dared to speak to him in this tone?
"Lex, your friend seems..."
"Sorry, Matthews."
Lex first apologized, then looked at Clark with some dissatisfaction on his face, "I understand your sense of justice, Clark. But you can't expect a public briefing to solve all problems."
"Lex."
Clark's voice suddenly calmed down.
Matthews swallowed a mouthful of saliva and involuntarily took half a step back.
He didn't know why a country high school student calming down would cause him to have this reaction, but his intuition told him that this young man was very, very unhappy right now.
And if he was unhappy, it seemed something bad would happen.
"I'm just asking a simple question, Lex." Clark looked at his friend, "Why didn't the fire hydrant at 113 Crawford Street output water? A person died because of it. One person was injured. Is that question really so hard to answer?"
The lounge fell silent.
Matthews chose to remain silent and stood quietly to the side.
"Clark." Lex stepped forward and patted the boy's shoulder, "I know this is hard for you to accept, but some problems in the world cannot be solved by one person's sense of justice alone. Gerald is already doing what he can do today."
"Lex, are you helping him?"
"I'm helping everyone." Lex withdrew his hand, "Including you. Do you think things like this can be brought to light just by grabbing a PR manager backstage and questioning them? You're too naive, Clark."
"I thought you cared about the truth too." Clark sounded somewhat disappointed.
"Of course I care about the truth. But caring about the truth and caring about a high school student's impulsiveness and naivety are two different things, Clark. You are too immature."
Clark fell silent.
He suddenly discovered...
Perhaps he didn't understand Lex very well either?
The person standing in front of him was speaking to him in a way he was completely unfamiliar with.
"Clark."
"You're a good boy raised on a farm, which is great. But good boys have their own place; not every stage is suitable for you to go up and perform on."
"If you really care about Smallville's fire safety, go back and study hard, enter the system in the future, and use legal means to promote reform, instead of grabbing someone else's friend backstage to interrogate them."
"This is not your world, Clark."
"Lex..."
Clark seemed to want to keep questioning.
"Gerald, this place is no longer suitable for conversation."
Picking up the folder on the coffee table, Lex made a gesture toward Matthews.
"Let's talk as we walk. Just push the remaining matters according to what we discussed earlier; don't let the pressure from the state side affect the normal business rhythm."
"Of course." Nodding with a sense of relief, Matthews followed Lex and walked past Clark.
"Snap."
The door closed.
Clark clenched his fists tightly.
The anger of being humiliated by a friend was unbearable even for him at this moment.
Even Super Vision activated before he could make a decision.
His gaze passed through that door, and he...
A layer of flickering, dim green light suddenly jumped into view.
Clark's pupils constricted.
Green...
Skeleton?
Clark's anger vanished completely. He looked at the white bones on Matthews' body, and then at the dim green light on Lex's body.
A chill surged upward.
Super Brain inexplicably provided a hypothesis that made his spine chill.
Lex Luthor.
After crashing into a bridge in the small town and falling into the river, he was pulled out of the water by Clarkhimself. They had once played billiards by the pool table at Luthor Mansion while chatting about life, and Lex had said to him, "You are the most extraordinary ordinary person I've ever seen."
Lex would never use the word naivety to humiliate him.
Lex Luthor had said that he once worked for a month at a fertilizer chemical plant due to an intentional business education from his father, Lionel.
He had told Clark this himself beside the pool table, and his exact words were, "You never know how much an ordinary worker's anger can teach you about power."
Lex would never say to an angry Clark, "This is not your world, you are too naive." After all, this guy had once said to him, "Clark, naivety is your most precious thing."
And this familiar green light before his eyes...
This person wasn't Lex at all?
Or was Lex controlled by something?
Turn off Super Vision.
The world returned to normal in the young man's eyes.
The corridor walls regained their opacity, and everything looked the same as five minutes ago.
But everything was also completely different.
If this person wasn't Lex...
Where was the real Lex?
And if Lex was manipulated, then who used superpowers to control him? Could another powered individual like Teacher Desiree and the black-hearted businessman Rickman have come to the town?
"Clark...?"
The fire door at the other end of the corridor was pushed open quietly.
Chloe jogged in, her short blonde hair a mess right now, with Pietro following breathlessly behind her.
"Listen to me!"
She said out of breath, waving a notebook in front of Clarkwith her other hand.
"The man at the briefing who asked about the fire hydrant, you noticed him, right?"
"I noticed."
Clark was still immersed in the shock from just now and hadn't recovered his senses, only dazed, "Crawford Street."
"That's it!"
Chloe opened the notebook, "That fire."
"And after Pietro and I came out, we found him in the parking lot."
"Found what?" Clark regained his focus.
"We followed for a few steps and saw him get into a gray pickup truck." Pietro pointed outside the window, "Look."
Clark followed the direction of the gaze.
Sure enough, he saw that in the parking lot of Smallville High School there was a...
"Gray pickup truck?"
"Yes, gray pickup truck."
"Why emphasize the color?" Clark quickly grasped the key point.
Chloe took out a photo.
"Because over the past few months, from various towns in Kansas to the four or five recent fires in Smallville, as well as those fire hydrants that exposed fire safety hazards."
"Look."
She spread the photos out and displayed them in front of Clark, "Next to most of the scene photos, there is this gray pickup truck."
"And just now I asked cousin Lois to check the license plate." Chloe's speech accelerated, "The owner of the vehicle is named Michael Hurley."
She pulled out a record from her canvas bag.
"Michael Hurley." Chloe read out, "Forty-four years old, carpenter, survivor of the fire incident at 113 Crawford Street. His wife, Helen Hurley, suffered asphyxiation from inhaling excessive thick smoke in that fire, and died on the way to the hospital."
"The fire report states that after the fire started, neighbors rushed to open the nearest fire hydrant immediately, but the nozzle couldn't be turned because of rust caused by temperature differences breaking the coating material."
Chloe closed the notebook.
She was just about to continue speaking.
But...
"Clark?" Chloe tentatively called out to the young man frozen in place, "Are you okay? Your complexion... seems a bit wrong."
"I'm fine."
Clark said in a low voice, turning to look out the window.
The parking lot of Smallville High School.
The gray pickup truck started its engine, drove out of the parking lot, and turned onto the lane leading to the highway outside the town.
And right inside the pickup truck.
That thin figure emitted a dim green light just like Lex's from earlier.
Chapter 62 Arlie: "So... your superpower is turning yourself into a flashlight?"
Smallville.
The homeowner was an old farmer named Patrick.
"All the hay at the Grady place burned down," Patrick swallowed a mouthful of tea, "It burned for more than half the night."
"What time did the fire department arrive?" Elaine sat on the porch steps, resting her notebook on her knees.
"Past nine? Maybe ten? Anyway, when Old William got there, the fire was almost out." Patrick rubbed his chin.
"It went out by itself?" asked the young man standing in the figure.
"It rained, after all," Patrick sighed, "The weather forecast is always quite accurate."
The two looked at each other. Elaine snapped her notebook shut, preparing to stand up and say her farewells.
"Oh right, there's one more thing," Mr. Patrick blinked and said, "I heard from Old William that he was standing right next to Grady's barn watching Grady rush out of the fire. Old William said he was terrified at the time, but Grady was completely fine, without even a single burn."
"The fire seemed not to harm him."
"Thank you for taking the time to talk about this, Mr. Patrick." Arlie straightened up from the railing and offered a smile, "If you think of any other details, feel free to tell Joanna and the others."
"You're welcome, give my regards to your father." Patrick waved his hand, "You young people still have so much energy."
"A detective agency, huh." Patrick muttered with an amused chuckle.
Seeing that no more information could be extracted from the old farmer, the three waved goodbye to Patrick and stepped onto the gravel path leading out of town.
The rambling voice gradually faded away behind them.
On both sides of the road were sparse poplars and dense bushes. Elaine walked at the very front, her chestnut-brown twin tails swaying left and right behind her.
She hummed a song that Arlie couldn't recognize.
It might have been pop music, something she made up herself, or maybe an Angel's morning prayer sung out of tune.
"Why on earth did I become a member of your detective agency?" Arlie looked melancholically sideways at the girl beside him, "I remember I just wanted to go home and sleep at first."
"Mona has something to do tonight," Joanna said expressionlessly.
"What does Mona have to do?"
"There are guests at home."
"Just because Mona has guests at home, I have to be your free laborer?" Arlie felt deeply offended, "Isn't the detective agency made up of three people? Can't just the two of you handle things if Mona is absent?"
"Two girls are not safe," Joanna said.
"Is a boy surrounded by two girls safe?!"
What a presumptuous fellow!
Arlie was shaking with anger and felt cold.
However...
"Hey! Arlie!"
Watching the twin tails bouncing backward in front of him.
Arlie felt that what Joanna said wasn't completely unreasonable either.
If you replaced the meaning of unsafe with the possibility of Elaine tripping herself into a field ditch with no one to pull her out, then it might indeed be quite dangerous.
"You're a good person! Right?"
Elaine Belloc grinned and hooked her arm around Arlie's, her ponytails brushing against his shoulders as a faint scent of strawberries drifted over.
Arlie:
So hard.
"Let go."
He irritably pulled his arm back from the steel plate, "I regret making friends with you, Miss Elaine."
"No way!"
"Joanna and I are just two girls..."
Elaine persistently leaned in again, changing her expression as she raised her head pitifully, "Help us out."
"Didn't you say last time that you wanted to find time to thank us for accompanying Joanna? This is the time to thank us! Right now! At this moment! Right Now!"
Arlie closed his eyes for a moment.
Only those who have been friends with Elaine Belloc can truly understand how hard Elaine Belloc is to deal with.
After becoming friends with her.
This girl will haunt your life like an unshakeable ghost.
She might appear directly in front of you at any moment, smiling at you while holding a charcoal-grilled Red King.
It was too terrifying.
Turning his head with mixed emotions, Arlie looked at Joanna.
His gaze clearly carried a layer of pity.
Joanna:
"Don't look at me with that gaze," the girl frowned slightly.
"I was just wondering..."
Arlie said sincerely, "How did you put up with her all this time?"
"She's just like this," Joanna said calmly, "She just talks a bit too much."
Hearing this, Elaine's face was written with great dissatisfaction.
"I heard that! I'm right three meters ahead! At least wait until I've walked a bit further away before whispering your secrets, right?"
"If you walk further away, we'll speak even louder," Joannasaid with an unblinking expression.
"So mean!"
Elaine turned back indignantly, her ponytails whipping around like two angry whips, but after walking about five steps she slowed down and stealthily backed up to the space between the two of them.
"Fine, I won't go far," she said righteously, "Because I'm also very interested in the whispers between you two."
"Alright, Miss Elaine."
Arlie sighed in resignation and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Then tell me, how do you plan to investigate this afternoon? You've finished writing down Patrick's testimony, and then what?"
This was exactly what Elaine was waiting for.
She pulled a hand-drawn map of Smallville out of her messenger bag.
The recent fires were marked on it with different colored markers.
"Look at the green question marks I marked."
Arlie lowered his head and glanced at that abstract art piece.
Is this some kind of GTA map you brought over?
Without noticing the disgust in the young man's eyes at all, Elaine stood on tiptoe and held the map up in front of Arlie.
"Look."
"Mr. Weil's warehouse, the Green family's shed, the Grady family's barn, and two small-scale fires last month in the north and west of town respectively."
"Old William said it was a wiring issue, but I don't believe it."
"It's no surprise that you don't believe anything," Arliecasually retorted, "You even believed that Mrs. Evelyn's cat was an alien spy."
"Because that cat's pupil color wasn't normal!" Elaineargued with reason, though she quickly lost her nerve, "Although I later found out it was cataracts."
"Anyway, this time is different!"
She quickly pulled the topic back, drawing a circle on the map with her finger, "Look, the distribution of these fires is not random. They unfold along an arc from the east to the north of the town, and the frequency is accelerating—two last month, and already four this month."
It had to be said that if you set aside her drawing skills and the fact that Elaine drew a fire hydrant looking like a piece of crap, what she said did have a trace to follow.
The fires unfolded along an arc.
Arlie rubbed his chin.
Another meteor freak?
Kansas never lacked that kind of trash, and Smallville was even more like a wholesale market—a meteor freak with some kind of flame control or immunity...
But why would he commit arson?
Or was he really committing arson?
"Arlie?"
Elaine waved her hand in front of him, "You're zoning out again."
"I'm appreciating your map," Arlie said without changing his expression, "This fire hydrant is drawn vividly and lifelike. Not bad."
"That's a tree..."
"Where are we going next?" Arlie changed the subject.
"Crawford Street."
Elaine's expression turned slightly more serious, "That fire last month that left one dead and one injured was on that street. I have a hunch there are clues there."
"What kind of clues?" Joanna spoke up.
"I don't know," Elaine shook her head honestly, "That's why we have to go take a look."
She bounced and sped up to walk in front, her twin tails happily swinging left and right again.
Watching that happy figure, Arlie smiled helplessly.
"Seraphim — Elaine Belloc"
A bouncing Seraphim.
A place like Smallville truly doesn't feed idle people.
113 Elm Street.
This house number corresponded to a smoke-blackened ruin.
The three of them stood across the street and watched for a while.
Arlie even narrowed his eyes slightly and scanned it with Super Vision.
For a moment there, he actually discovered something.
"Patrick said the fire would change direction," Arlie turned his head to look at Joanna and said, "If you match up the distribution of the burn marks here, it really does seem to make some sense."
"Really?" Elaine was stunned.
"I'm just saying the direction matches up," Arlie frowned and crouched down to look at a brick on the ground.
Ordinary carbonization.
"Well, actually there's nothing special."
He stood up and patted the dust off his hands, "Shall we go?"
"Wait!"
Elaine pulled something else out of her messenger bag.
A vintage Polaroid of unknown origin, with a corgi painted on the shell.
"You even brought this?" Arlie couldn't help laughing.
"A detective's standard equipment!" Elaine shrugged, "Digital photos can be edited, but what comes out of a Polaroid is direct evidence!"
She snapped a few pictures of the ruins, and then carefully tucked the photos into her notebook.
Joanna had already turned around and started walking back.
Arlie followed as well.
After snapping the last picture, Elaine bounced and skipped to catch up from behind, restarting her inexhaustible chatterbox.
"Have you guys in this detective agency ever actually solved any cases?" Arlie couldn't help asking.
He strongly suspected that Elaine just wanted to find an excuse to call Joanna out to gossip and open up her near-infinite chatterbox.
"Of course!" Elaine puffed out her chest, "We solved the potato chip theft case at Mrs. Evelyn's grocery store!"
"Who was the culprit?"
"Mrs. Evelyn herself," Elaine said with an unblinking face, "She forgot that she snuck and ate the inventory because she was hungry at night."
"And the mysterious circular withered lawn incident on the Smallville Middle School playground!"
"Conclusion?"
"The irrigation sprinkler was clogged."
"And..."
"Enough," Joanna interrupted her expressionlessly, "If you keep going, Arlie is going to call the police."
"It's not that exaggerated!" Elaine protested, "This case is truly major! This is a series of fires! Four or more! And it even involves supernatural phenomena! I believe our detective agency will definitely be the ones to uncover the final truth..."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh."
Arlie replied absent-mindedly.
They turned onto the grove path on the outskirts of the town, where the bushes on both sides were denser than before.
Elaine walked in front humming a song, her rhythm incomparably cheerful.
Arlie looked up at the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves, the feeling of it landing on his face made his body hum slightly.
Comfortable.
But...
Damn it!
In this kind of weather, he should be lying on a lounge chair on the farm, with a glass of lemonade in his left hand, a comic manuscript in his right hand, soft grass beneath him, and a clean night sky overhead free of conspiracies, fires, or meteor freaks.
Instead of acting as heavy labor on a shaded path where bugs could drop down his neck at any moment for a detective agency whose members couldn't even draw a fire hydrant properly.
Sigh...
Who else could it be? Arlie Kent could never refuse his sister Joanna's requests.
"Arlie."
Joanna suddenly reached out and pulled him.
Arlie looked down to see a withered branch snapped by the wind lying right in front of his feet, covered in crawling ants.
"You're quite caring toward small animals," he remarked casually.
"Watch where you're walking," Joanna let go of his arm, her tone carrying a trace of faint disdain.
Arlie couldn't help laughing.
"Hurry up and keep up!" Elaine's voice came from ahead.
She had already bounced to a fork in the road, standing under an old oak tree waiting for them.
The moonlight also fell on her, specks of light floating on her chestnut-brown hair as her twin tails swayed gently in the breeze. This scene, if captured in a photo, could probably be hung on a lifestyle magazine as a cover image.
Of course, that was on the condition of ignoring the fact that the person on the magazine cover was so bored out of their mind that they were using their fingers to pick at old bug holes in the tree.
And...
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
Elaine's voice came over again.
Arlie's pupils constricted.
The killing intent perception that he called the "Arlietwitch" activated.
His body flashed.
"Thud!"
Elaine's sprint wouldn't automatically stop just because the target disappeared; she was pouncing toward Arlie's direction, and when Arlie flashed aside, she pounced into empty air...
And right in front of the trajectory where she missed...
"Joanna!!"
"Bang."
Elaine slammed straight into Joanna's arms, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face in the other's chest.
Joanna's body swayed slightly.
The girl's Steel Body kept her completely unmoving.
"Caterpillar!" Elaine shrieked, curling into a ball clinging to Joanna and trembling, "Save me quickly!"
Joanna lowered her head helplessly and took a glance.
A caterpillar was indeed leisurely wriggling on Elaine's left shoulder.
The girl's blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hiss— A streak of red light flashed from her pupils, striking a small piece of fabric on Elaine's shoulder."
The caterpillar was thus flicked away by the flipped-up piece of fabric.
"Alright," Joanna said.
Elaine cautiously turned her head to look at her shoulder.
A coin-sized scorched circle, beneath which was her own white skin.
"Phew..."
She let out a sigh of relief, but she had no intention of getting off Joanna, hugging her even tighter instead and burying her face back in.
"Joanna, you are so reliable." Her voice was muffled. "I've decided to stick with you for the rest of my life."
"Get down."
"No."
Arlie:
"Am I interrupting the two of you? And besides..."
He watched Elaine Belloc bury her face in Joanna Kent's chest, enjoying a kind of treatment that Arlie Kent had never unlocked to this day, using a posture he wouldn't even dare to try in his dreams.
Damn steel-plate Angel.
It seemed to sense the killing intent.
Elaine finally lifted her head from Joanna, turned around, and looked at the blond youth standing motionless in place.
Just as she wanted to say something...
Her face turned pale.
"Joanna." Her voice lowered. "Arlie, he..."
"He knew all along," Joanna said calmly.
Elaine let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumped, and the corners of her mouth curled up.
"I knew it," she said. "I just knew it."
"When did you find out?" Arlie asked, puzzled.
"Ugh..." Elaine scratched her head. "Probably right at the beginning of the first year of high school?"
"You know how it is, I'm curious about everything, especially about Joanna. Back then, I just thought this girl was so cool—blonde hair, blue eyes, looking like a magazine cover, but her expression was so cold, so cold. I actually thought the refrigerator at my house had turned into a spirit and run out."
"Can't you use a more normal metaphor?" Arlie's mouth twitched.
"Don't interrupt me."
Elaine rolled her eyes and snapped, "Anyway, I just kept talking to Joanna, every day, during every break between classes, and I'd sit next to her at lunchtime."
"Then one day..." Elaine's voice softened a bit. "That afternoon after school, there weren't many people in the corridor. I was organizing my things in front of my locker, and I was in a bad mood, so I accidentally... started glowing..."
"Don't tell me... you are too?" Arlie put on a surprised expression.
"Yeah... Superhuman stuff... Even though you see it on TV all the time, when it actually happens to yourself, I was still very surprised."
"I was scared out of my mind, but I couldn't control it at all. The more nervous I got, the brighter I shone. I was really scared back then," Elaine said dully. "Then footsteps came from the end of the corridor, and I thought I was done for. Once people saw it, tomorrow the whole school would know that Elaine Belloc is a monster. But then I found out it was Joanna walking over. She took one look at my glowing hand, and then pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to me."
"A tissue?" Arlie was slightly stunned.
He subconsciously looked at the blond girl.
Yet he saw Joanna turn her head slightly, acting as if she hadn't heard anything.
"Because I was crying."
Elaine said it as a matter of course. "And then Joanna said, 'Wipe yourself clean.'"
"And then she patiently helped me control my ability."
Elaine raised her right hand, palm facing up.
A small orb of light condensed, reflecting two tiny suns in her chestnut-colored eyes.
Arlie tried hard to make a shocked expression.
"Glowing?"
He asked in surprise, "Really or fake?"
"Real! Didn't you just see it with your own eyes?" Elainedoubted. "Why does your reaction look like you're acting?"
"I just need time to digest it," Arlie said deadpan. "After all, turning yourself into a flashlight or something, isn't that a bit useless?"
"Seraphim."
"Acting conditions: Existence! Creation! Invention! Holy Light! Mercy! Judgment! Justice! And... make the demons spiral up to heaven!"
"Arlie, you're cuter when you don't speak, you know that?" Elaine laughed out of extreme anger.
"Arlie, don't mock her," Joanna spoke up.
But Arlie clearly saw a faint arc curl up at the corner of the girl's mouth.
"Who mocked her?" Arlie asked innocently.
"Your smile."
"I smiled because I think you guys are amazing." Arliespread his hands. "Friendship like this is already rare in today's materialistic society."
"Joanna, I am overjoyed that you've made such a friend."
Joanna's ears seemed a bit red.
Elaine looked at the two of them, rolled her eyeballs back and forth a few times, and suddenly chuckled.
"You two are really interesting."
"We are not interesting," Joanna said coldly.
"If you say so, then we aren't." Elaine sensibly put away her smile, but the mischief in her eyes didn't decrease at all.
"Elaine." Arlie changed the subject.
"Hm?"
"Your light, what else can it do?"
"I'm still developing it."
"Is that so? Actually, I think glowing is pretty good." Arliecoughed. "It can be used as an emergency light during power outages. The town has been having a lot of power outages lately."
"Are you mocking me?" Elaine asked suspiciously.
"No."
"Then stop smiling."
"I thought of something happy."
"You..."
"Arlie," Joanna frowned and said, "Stop talking nonsense. Let's finish investigating what Elaine mentioned, and then we should go home."
"Okay, okay... Joan..."
"Clark! What is that thing in front? Why is it glowing?!"
A clearly nervous female voice came from behind the bushes on the right, interrupting Elaine's words.
"It's a light bulb, probably."
A male voice replied lazily.
Elaine grew angry.
Joanna narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Sigh."
Arlie sighed.
The bushes were parted from the inside.
Clark Kent's head poked out from between the leaves first, with two oak leaves hanging on his black hair, and a radiance in his eyes, as innocent as a snow leopard on the Tianshan Mountains.
Behind him was Chloe, holding up her phone with the flashlight on to light the way, and Pietro, who was responsible for carrying Chloe's canvas bag.
"Arlie?"
Clark was stunned. "The light bulb is you?"
"This isn't funny at all, Clark," Arlie said expressionlessly. "Why are you guys here too?"
"I'm investigating the fire,"
Clark answered honestly, "Chloe said there's a clue..."
"I am investigating the fire," Chloe corrected the subject-predicate relationship, walking out from behind the bushes. "Clark is just relatively free today."
"Why? Didn't you say there was football practice today?"
"I quit the football team," Clark added.
"You quit?" Arlie frowned. "What happened?"
"It's a long story," Clark scratched his head. "Let's talk about it when we get home."
"And also... what is this...?"
Clark's gaze swept back and forth between Elaine, Joanna, and Arlie.
"Smallville Detective Agency!" Elaine crossed her arms. "We are also investigating the recent series of fires."
"Elaine, are you starting again?" Chloe's brows knitted together.
Just like that, Arlie already guessed that the upcoming conversation wouldn't be very pleasant.
"Yes, The Torch."
Elaine's mouth curled up. "We just interviewed a witness this afternoon who lives next to the McGrady barn."
"Unusual phenomena?" Chloe sneered. "Like?"
"Like someone not being hurt by flames in a fire."
"Are you sure this isn't a memory bias of the witness?"
"Chloe!" Elaine crossed her arms. "Mr. Patrick described it very specifically!"
"You're taking a seventy-year-old man's vague impression in the firelight as investigative evidence?" Chloe mocked mercilessly. "Is this your detective agency?"
"We at least went to check it out in person! Instead of just flipping through files and thinking we've mastered the whole truth!"
"What do you mean? You think reporters..."
Clearly, from this conversation between the two, it could be known that the relationship between The Torch and the detective agency was not very friendly.
Especially between their respective leaders.
It seemed there had been long-standing grievances.
"Alright... Elaine..."
Arlie took the lead, putting one hand on Elaine's shoulder to pull her back, while Joanna tacitly cooperated and stood on Elaine's other side.
Over on Clark's side, he exerted force at the same time; he to the right, and Pietro from the left, held onto Chloe's arms.
"Chloe, we didn't come here to argue."
Chloe scoffed, but still shut her mouth.
"Elaine."
Joanna called out in a low voice.
"I know." Elaine snorted. Although she was still huffing and puffing, she no longer planned to charge forward.
The woods fell quiet for a few seconds.
Pietro was the first to break the silence.
"So... you guys are also investigating the fire?" he asked in the most ordinary voice among everyone present.
"Yes."
Elaine answered impatiently.
"Then what have you found out?" Pietro continued asking.
"What have you guys found out?" Elaine retorted.
Pietro turned to look at Chloe. Chloe pursed her lips, clearly hesitating whether to share the materials in her hands.
"Chloe." Clark slapped his forehead.
"... Fine."
Chloe reluctantly flipped out the documents. "We are tracking a person named Michael Hurley, forty-four years old, a carpenter, and a survivor of the fire at 113 Crawford Street."
Elaine's eyes lit up.
113 Crawford Street—she remembered they went to look at this ruin that afternoon.
"His wife Helen died in that fire," Chloe's voice leveled a bit. "Suffocated on the way to the hospital. The fire hydrant couldn't be opened."
"This person has appeared at multiple fire scenes."
Chloe pointed to a few photos in the folder.
They were all distant photos of different fire scenes, and in the corner of each one was a gray pickup truck.
"His license plate number has appeared in at least four different locations."
"In other words..."
Elaine opened her notebook and found the page with Patrick's testimony.
"According to the witness we interviewed this afternoon, the flames will automatically change direction."
"The person manipulating the flames is Hurley?"
"Maybe." Chloe glanced at Clark. "We guess he has superpowers."
Clearly Clark had already told them about the other person glowing green.
"When did he acquire this ability? Before his wife died? Or after?" Elaine asked in surprise. "If it was before, why couldn't he save his own wife? If it was after, what changed him?"
Everyone fell silent.
Arlie narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
But then...
His ears twitched, and he heard...
Cries for help? Pleas for mercy? Wails and cries?
And smelled something.
The charred, burnt smell of carbonization.
"Hum—"
Arlie's pupils shrank.
The crack shielded by his Bio-Electric Field at the center of his brow...
It was cheering?
"Next I plan to check Hurley's recent whereabouts and tracks..." Chloe was still saying something.
Elaine was still arguing with her.
"Arlie," Clark sighed. "How do you..."
The small-town youth turned his head to look at his younger brother.
"... Arlie?"
Empty.
Where the blond youth had been standing just moments ago, only a clump of grass leaves remained.
"Arlie?" Elaine was also stunned. "Joanna?"
Joanna was gone too.
"When did they leave?" Chloe was stunned.
"I don't even know where the edge of the Universe is," Pietro the ordinary person was out of moves. "How could I possibly know?"
Elaine looked left and right. If not for a few trampled traces still on the grass, she almost thought she was hallucinating.
"He's always like this," Clark said helplessly. "You never know when he'll disappear."
"Unlike you," Chloe said pointedly. "When you disappear, you at least squeeze out a less-than-brilliant excuse."
"I usually say I need to go to the bathroom," Clark thought about it. "Or make a phone call?"
"But we're in the woods right now."
"It's not completely impossible either."
Chloe chose to give up talking to this guy.
But right at this moment—
Clark's nostrils twitched slightly.
Northeast direction?
The young man's face tightened, and he hurriedly looked towards the end of that horizon.
"There's a fire?!" Clark was startled.
The voice fell.
"Hum—" A pillar of fire soared into the sky in his eyes.