Clark opened the truck door and got in, immediately feeling the comfort of the leather seats. The new car smell still filled the air, something he had never experienced before. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.
"The old Clark would probably feel guilty about this," he thought, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purred softly, the powerful sound filling the air. He gripped the steering wheel more firmly, feeling the power of the machine under his control.
Clark started the truck and slowly drove away from the farm, feeling the smooth vibration of the engine under the hood. He looked out the window and watched the fields stretch out around him, while the sun set on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Dusk in Smallville always brought a sense of peace, something he had always appreciated, but now it felt even more significant.
Accelerating a bit more, Clark let the roar of the engine fill the silence, driving without a specific destination. The wind blew through the open window, messing up his hair as he explored the outskirts of town.
After a few minutes on the road, he noticed the fuel gauge was dangerously close to the reserve mark. "Damn, I forgot these tanks don't fill themselves," Clark commented, chuckling softly at his own distraction. Soon, he spotted a gas station on the horizon.
He slowed down and pulled into the station, parking next to the pump. Clark got out of the truck, grabbed his wallet, and began filling the tank. The attendant watched him curiously, perhaps recognizing him as the Kent boy, but said nothing.
"Lex could've at least given me this truck with a full tank."
With the tank filled, Clark quickly paid and got back on the road, already thinking about returning to the farm. As he drove back, the sky began to darken, and the first stars appeared, dotting the sky with soft lights.
When he arrived at the farm, Clark noticed the house lights were on, and as he expected, Martha was standing at the door, concern evident in her eyes.
"Clark, are you okay?" she asked, crossing her arms as she watched her son get out of the truck. "I was worried. You left like that without telling anyone."
"Sorry for leaving without saying anything, Mom," Clark said, looking at Martha with a sincere expression of regret.
"I understand, Clark. I just don't want you and your father to keep fighting over this. Jonathan's in the barn... Maybe you should talk to him," she suggested, her voice soft and loving, as she stepped forward and wrapped her son in a warm hug.
"I'll talk to him," Clark replied with a sigh. "Thanks, Mom."
She smiled, releasing him from the hug and giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading back inside the house.
Clark took a deep breath and headed for the barn.
As he approached, he saw the faint light inside, and there, Jonathan was standing with his back turned, fiddling with some tools, clearly distracted by his work.
"Dad?" Clark called.
Jonathan stopped what he was doing, but he didn't turn around immediately. He took a deep breath, as if knowing this conversation was inevitable. After a moment, he slowly turned, facing Clark with a serious expression, though not angry.
"I should have told you earlier… about the ship, about who you really are," Jonathan began, his voice carrying a mix of regret and hesitation.
"When you were little, your mother and I… found a spaceship in the field, the night of the meteor shower." Jonathan stepped forward, getting closer to Clark, as if the proximity might ease the tension between them. "You were inside it, Clark. That's when we realized you weren't like other kids. But deep down, you've always been our son."
"It's good to hear that from you directly," Clark said. "Can I see my ship now?"
Jonathan looked at Clark for a moment, considering his response. He knew this moment would come sooner or later. With a silent nod, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder and motioned for him to follow.
"Let's go to the cellar," Jonathan said as he led the way, his steps slow and thoughtful. They descended the wooden stairs together, the slightly cold and damp air enveloping them as they neared where the ship was hidden.
Jonathan stopped in front of a structure covered by a large, old, and faded sheet. He looked at Clark for a moment, as if waiting for him to be ready for what he was about to see. With a quick and firm motion, Jonathan pulled the sheet, revealing the silver spaceship, worn by time.
"This is the ship that brought you to us," Jonathan said, his voice low and reflective. "It's been here all this time."
Clark stared at the ship for a few seconds, his fingers gently brushing over the metallic surface.
"If a baby can pilot a spaceship… a teenager can drive a truck," Clark commented, a small smirk forming on his face, trying to ease the tension in the conversation.
"I don't think accepting a gift from a Luthor is a good idea," Jonathan began, his voice firm but without the stern tone of earlier. "But this will be your first choice as an adult, and it will be up to you to deal with the consequences."
Clark looked at his father, surprised by his words. The rigidity Jonathan usually showed was there, but now there was a clear intention to let Clark make his own decisions.
"Thanks, Dad," Clark replied.
Jonathan nodded, his eyes turning back to the ship for a moment before pulling the sheet back over it. He carefully adjusted the fabric, covering the ship once more. "Let's head back up," Jonathan said, turning and beginning to walk toward the stairs leading back to the house.
Clark followed him in silence, feeling that the conversation had established a new understanding between them.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Jonathan paused and turned to Clark, giving him one last look before leaving the cellar.
"Good night, Clark. Think carefully about your choices," Jonathan said calmly, giving his son a light pat on the shoulder before heading back to the barn to continue his work.
Clark stood still for a moment, reflecting on what had just happened, before finally heading to his room.
...
"Done... finally finished," Clark murmured to himself, leaning back in the chair as he saved the book file on the computer. The last chapter of *Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone* was complete, and Clark felt a mix of satisfaction and relief at seeing the progress he had made.
He grabbed a blank CD from the shelf beside him and inserted it into the CD burner. With a few quick clicks, he began burning the file onto the disc. As the process took place, Clark leaned back in the chair, gazing at the screen with a slight smile.
"Tomorrow I should go see Lex... thank him for the gift and see if he can help me with the book," he thought, knowing Lex's support would be essential to getting the project off the ground. 'With his influence and resources, I could launch this faster than I imagined,' he reflected, already envisioning the possibilities.
The CD burner emitted a soft *beep*, indicating that the process was complete. Clark removed the disc, labeling it with a pen before storing it carefully. He looked around the room, still illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The quiet of the night surrounded him, bringing a sense of tranquility.
Clark shut down the computer and stood up, walking over to the bed. He took off his shoes, stretched his arms with a slight yawn, and carefully lay down on the bed, feeling the comfort of the sheets around him.
"Tomorrow's going to be a busy day," he murmured to himself, closing his eyes as he settled in. His thoughts wandered between the success of the book and what Lex might say, but the fatigue finally began to take over.
Within minutes, Clark fell asleep, his breathing becoming soft and rhythmic as sleep carried him into a peaceful and refreshing night.
....
"Frank," a familiar voice echoed through the auto shop.
Frank looked up from the engine he was working on, wiping his grease-covered hands on an old rag. He slowly turned, frowning when he saw who was standing at the entrance of the shop. Jeremy, a young man he immediately recognized. There was something unsettling about Jeremy's face; his eyes gleamed in a way that made Frank shudder inside.
"Jeremy Creek?" Frank asked, clearly surprised, but his voice quickly turned defensive. "What are you doing here?"
Jeremy walked into the shop, his steps slow and controlled, with a cold smile on his face. "Don't you recognize me, Frank? I was the 'Scarecrow' you and your friends picked twelve years ago." He continued to approach, his eyes fixed on Frank.
Frank took a step back, now fully remembering. He cleared his throat, nervous. "That... that was just a prank. A stupid game the seniors pulled every year. No one really got hurt," he tried to justify, his voice trembling slightly.
"A game?" Jeremy repeated, with a dark and ironic tone, stopping a few feet from Frank. "You tied me up in a cornfield, left me there all night. You think that was just a game?" He stepped forward again, and Frank began to feel the real danger of the situation.
"Listen, man... that was a long time ago. I'm sorry about it. We were young, stupid," Frank stammered, now visibly shaken. He tried to take another step back, but Jeremy was quicker.
Suddenly, Frank tried to grab Jeremy, his hand reaching out toward the young man, but before he could touch him, a violent shock of electricity surged through his body.
Crack!
The sound of electricity echoed through the auto shop as Frank was thrown against the wall, his body trembling with pain. He collapsed to the floor, groaning and clutching his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "Please... it was just a game..." he begged, his voice weak and interrupted by pain.
Jeremy slowly approached, looking down at Frank with disdain. "You want to know what I want, Frank?" Jeremy asked, kneeling beside him. "I want... to play."
Before Frank could respond, Jeremy raised his hand, and a new wave of electricity coursed through Frank's body. *Zzzap!* The sound of electric pulses echoed through the shop, while Frank screamed in pain, his body shaking uncontrollably. The screams soon faded, and Frank fell to the floor, motionless, his eyes glazed and lifeless.
Jeremy stood up, looking down at Frank's unconscious body for a moment. Then, he turned to a framed picture hanging on the wall, where Frank and two other teammates were smiling in an old championship photo. Jeremy stared at the image for a moment before giving a slight smile.
"You two are next," he murmured, reaching out his hand. A pulse of electricity shot through the air, shattering the glass of the frame and sending the picture crashing to the floor with a loud bang.
Without looking back, Jeremy walked out of the auto shop, leaving chaos and destruction behind.
To read 7 chapters ahead, go to
pat reon.com/22Mirko22