The plan had been simple. Find Cassandra Carver immediately. Ask questions. Get answers. Maybe cry a little. Move on.
Naturally, fate laughed and said absolutely not.
Instead of meeting the mystical blind seer of destiny, Lucinda now found herself trailing behind Clark Kent and Pete Ross through the beige, aggressively cheerful halls of the Smallville Retirement Center. The walls were painted a shade of yellow that felt like it was personally trying to keep everyone optimistic against their will.
Behind her—because the universe enjoyed irony—was Dylan.
Pete glanced back once. Just once. His eyes flicked from Lucinda to Dylan and then back to Clark. He leaned in and whispered something.
Lucinda didn't need super-hearing to know what it was.
Luthor people. Suspicious. Probably evil. Possibly radioactive. Classic Pete Ross.
They reached Harry Bolston's room, and the moment Lucinda stepped inside and saw Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang standing there together, her brain short-circuited.
She swayed.
She fully, truly, almost fainted. Clark moved instinctively—but of course, fate intervened again—and Dylan caught her instead.
She froze.
This was not how she envisioned her first collapse in front of the main cast.
"I'm fine," Lucinda snapped, smacking Dylan's arm and forcing herself upright. "Don't touch me."
To be fair, she wasn't dying. She was just extremely hungry, emotionally overwhelmed, and standing three feet away from people she'd watched on a screen for years. Totally normal reaction.
Now she stood there awkwardly, painfully aware that Clark, Pete, Chloe, and Lana were all staring at her like she'd wandered onto the wrong set.
Lucinda shoved the embarrassment into a dark mental drawer because there was absolutely no way she was missing the chance to shake Chloe Sullivan's hand.
This was Chloe. The Chloe. Journalism prodigy, investigative menace, walking caffeine dependency. Lucinda liked Lana well enough—she was lovely, terrifyingly so—but Chloe? Chloe was the blueprint. The idol. The reason Lucinda owned three different notebooks she never actually finished.
Before she could rehearse a normal, non-unhinged introduction, Clark beat her to it.
"Everyone, this is Lucy Bryce," he said, gesturing toward her like he was the one who discovered her existence. "She's, uh—"
"Oh my god, you were one of the witnesses!" Chloe suddenly blurted out, already grabbing Lucinda's hand and shaking it with alarming enthusiasm. "I've been trying to track you down for days!"
Lucinda was not even surprised. Classic Chloe Sullivan.
"Chloe," Clark warned, clearing his throat. "I didn't bring her here so you could interrogate her about the hospital. She's here to help us find Harry Bolston."
Chloe paused, visibly restraining herself, then smiled in a way that promised she would absolutely interrogate her later.
"Oh. Right. Hero work first, journalism second," she said, clearly lying to herself.
Lana stepped forward next, graceful and warm and somehow glowing under fluorescent lighting—an unfair advantage, honestly. "Then I guess you know a lot about the weird stuff that goes on in Smallville," she said kindly, shaking Lucinda's hand. "I'm Lana Lang. I believe we've met before, just not officially."
Lucinda swallowed and forced a nod. Sweat prickled at her temples. Her internal monologue was now just incoherent screaming layered over the Smallville theme song.
"Pete," Pete cut in, smirking as he stepped forward. "Pete Ross. Clark's best friend." He emphasized the last part like it came with a certificate.
Ever since Clark and Lex became friends, Pete couldn't hide his jealousy—every laugh or shared glance between them felt like Clark was being slowly stolen from him, and now, with Lucinda awkwardly in the mix, his irritation quietly spiked.
"Lucy Bryce," Lucinda said, smiling too fast, her voice threatening to vanish entirely. She gestured awkwardly at Dylan beside her. "And this is Dylan… uh… Something."
Dylan's lips twitched.
Clark snorted. "It's Dylan Yamazaki," Lucinda corrected herself quickly, shooting Dylan a look.
"Oh?" Lucinda turned to him, squinting. "You're really a Yamazaki?"
Dylan smiled—slow, smug, deeply punchable. She elbowed him in the stomach without thinking.
He let out a small, offended groan.
"Anyway," Clark said quickly, stepping between them like a referee who had seen this episode go badly before. "Let's go over there."
He herded Lucinda away before she could commit a second felony, and honestly, she let him. Some moments were better exited while you were still upright and only mildly humiliated.
The three blinked a few times, exchanged wary glances, and then followed after Dylan. They were greeted by a surprisingly picturesque landscaped feature: lush greenery hugged a wooden bridge, and strings of decorative outdoor lights hung overhead, swaying faintly in the breeze. It was almost… quaint.
Chloe, Lana, and Pete immediately approached the spot where the wheelchair had been discovered, as though proximity alone might summon answers from the pond itself. Before Clark could get any closer, Lucinda shot him a warning look and held up one arm.
"This is a meteorite-infected pond, Clark. Best for you to stay here. You've been dangerously close to me already—you might pass out if you step any further," she whispered, leaning just enough for Dylan to miss the exchange entirely.
"Oh, and could you, like, keep an eye on Dylan while you're at it?" she added, gesturing toward him, who was standing stiffly in the background, looking more like a statue than a bodyguard.
Clark gave a small, almost resigned nod and stayed put, eyes tracking Lucinda as she strode toward the others.
"How could he vanish without any trace?" Pete muttered, leaning over the water as though poking it might make Harry resurface and wave aggressively.
Lucinda sidled up beside Chloe, careful to keep her dramatic flair under control—though her heart was racing from the thrill of being near the legendary investigative journalist herself.
"Is it okay if I call you, Chlo?" she asked, crouching slightly to inspect the waterline. Her eyes lit up as she spotted a chunk of meteorite barely peeking out from under a cluster of reeds.
Chloe blinked, a little surprised by the sudden expertise but smiled. "Of course. So… uhm… what do you think happened to Harry Bolston?"
Lucinda looked up at her, chin tilted slightly, adopting the perfect mix of serious investigator and overly confident amateur sleuth. "I believe you already know the effects of meteorites on people, Chlo," she said almost immediately, as if stating the obvious would somehow speed things along.
"Well, I do. And they vary from person to person," Chloe admitted, raising an eyebrow, already intrigued.
Lana, who had drifted closer to get a better view, chimed in politely, "I'm sorry, but what exactly is the connection between the meteorite and Harry's disappearance?"
Lucinda didn't waste a second. She pointed decisively at the chunk of meteorite like a teacher demonstrating a crime scene to an eager class. "This pond is meteorite-infected, and I believe it altered something in Harry the moment he fell in."
Pete, still leaning over the water like a man who refused to trust gravity, stepped a bit closer. "So, you're saying… the meteorite made Harry disappear?"
Lucinda allowed herself a small, smug smile. "Yes, but not entirely." She turned her gaze back to Chloe, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Have you done any research on him?"
"Yeah, but apparently… not much," Chloe admitted, rifling through her neatly kept notes. Only a few sentences scrawled on the first page.
Lucinda leaned in closer, practically whispering into Chloe's ear. "As much as I would have loved for you to figure this out on your own, I'm in a bit of a hurry. So, I'll let you into a secret. Search for someone named Harry Volk, and discuss it with Clark right away."
Lana overheard but didn't say a word, and Pete merely raised an impressed eyebrow, like a man who had learned to accept that some things defied explanation.
For people working for a Luthor, Lucinda's ability to cut straight to the point—and somehow already know the answers—wasn't even shocking.
"I'll see you later," Lucinda added, turning toward Lana with mock solemnity. "Don't worry, Miss Lang. I will still help you after I finish my mission. You won't get in trouble… I'm sure of it."
Lana smiled and followed her with a combination of curiosity, caution, and maybe a dash of disbelief, watching her retreat toward Clark.
Stopping just in front of him, Lucinda tilted her head. "Just as we talked about, I can only give them clue. Work with them still, okay?"
Clark nodded. "Then, Cassandra should be in her room," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Although… I didn't expect you to be the type who still wants to peek at your future, Lucy."
"I'm practically dying to know, Clark," Lucinda replied, her voice sharp and businesslike, like she was issuing a mission briefing. "I need to find out if being here will help—or completely ruin—you… or Lex. And trust me, I don't do spoilers lightly."
Clark's teasing smile vanished, replaced by a softer, more genuine one. His eyes crinkled with warmth, and for just a heartbeat, his usually perfect composure faltered.
"You might be a handful despite your size," he said, his voice sincere, "but for someone who didn't hesitate to throw herself to save my mom… I'm pretty sure you're not capable of ruining anyone else's life, Lucy."
Lucinda almost felt a blush creep up her neck—but only almost. Instead, she straightened, squared her shoulders, and decided that if the universe insisted on plopping her into the middle of chaos, she might as well look like she had a plan.
"You'll never know, Clark," she said with a sly smile, blinking as her gaze drifted past his shoulder—and froze when she spotted Lex striding toward them with all the casual menace in black suit and tie.
Lucinda rolled her eyes and shot a pointed glare at Dylan, who stood under a tree pretending to admire the foliage while slipping his Nokia 3310 inside his pocket.
He immediately looked away, feigning innocence.
"Looks like I have to go, Clark," Lucinda muttered, grimacing . "Someone ratted me out already."
Clark's brows arched, and he turned to follow her gaze, a grin spreading when he spotted Lex.
"Lex," he greeted casually, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "What brings you here?"
Lex's smile was polite. He slipped his hands into his pockets and gave Dylan a single, dismissive glance. Dylan nodded and marched behind Lex.
"I was alerted some housemate of mine slipped out of my fence to meet with this so-called seer," Lex said, his tone polished, but the mockery seeping through.
"Of course you'd know about that," Lucinda said, lips thinning. She threw a pointed look at Dylan, who immediately looked away.
"See you around, Clark. Thanks."
Clark gave her a nod, barely hiding a grin, while Lucinda fell into step beside Lex. Dylan followed silently behind them a few steps away.
"For someone who came from the future, I'm entirely surprised you'd come here to consult a supposed fortune-teller, Lucy," Lex whispered casually, though his voice had a rusty layer of sarcasm, as if he'd been polishing it just to use on her.
"I just wanted to test her claimed abilities," Lucinda lied smoothly, but there was a tiny edge of truth—she did want to know how her presence in their lives might ripple through the timeline. And suddenly, an idea popped into her head like a light bulb.
"And, ah, I'd also like to know your future, Lex," she added, grinning up at him as they strode into the center. "Now that I've officially barged into your life, I just want to make sure I didn't accidentally—uh—ruin your shining, perfect destiny."
Lex cocked a brow, catching her subtle glance at the top of his head. "Are you sure we're still talking about my future, Lucy?"
"Well, uh, what else?" Lucinda replied with a cheeky smile, brushing past Dylan's silent sulk and heading toward a woman in nurse attire. "Excuse me, I need to see Cassandra Carver."
The nurse looked mildly alarmed when she saw Lex. She forced herself to nod and led Lucinda, Lex, and Dylan down the hall.
They reached Cassandra's room, and the nurse practically vanished the moment Cassandra's shadow fell across the doorway. There she sat, finger reading a book with that uncanny, intense concentration of someone who sees too much of everyone else's business.
"Do those expensive shoes come with a name?" Cassandra said in her coarse voice.
Lucinda had expected this interrogation—just not in this setting.
She couldn't recall the scenes of this episode clearly, but she was certain it had occurred supposedly a few days after Harry disappeared.
She knows we're coming, Lucinda thought. But why does it seem like she didn't notice her at all?