no ordinary world 4

4

*
A sharp sound, two metallic marbles clacking together.

Lex palmed those two identical spheres of magnetized steel, rolling them in the cup of his hand until the idea in his mind reached maturity, and then into words. "Is it true?"

Behind Lex and his long glass desk stood Emil Hamilton, Lex's closest researcher and advisor. He was a peculiar man, his longer, unkept curly black hair a reminder of how intense the project was for all of them. Emil had been a mere intern under Lionel when he was first introduced to the project at the age of eighteen, straight out of school. Emil was now thirty, but looked forty. His age lines developed and deep. Laugh-lines and sunshine didn't prematurely age Emil. It was the long orations in conference rooms and long, false nights inside hollow moons that stole the life from him and turned his beard grey.

Emil Hamilton was a lonely man, much like the rest of the staff who lived on the project.

"Is it true?" Lex's words echoed in the observatory office.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor." Emil straightened his glasses. "We found her, finally."

Marbles shifted in Lex's palm, a sign that his mind was turning once again. His tall, black leather chair swiveled around towards the array of screens that had played and replayed a particular archived footage Lex had requested at dawn. Playing and replaying a particular scene all afternoon and into the night.

Stock footage from fifteen years ago.

Beneath the dotted pixels and scratchy tracking of the old VHS technology was the Kent barn, at least, what it was fifteen years ago.

And there, in a simple plaid shirt and jeans was fourteen year old Clark Kent, standing in the middle.

Lex stared, transfixed.

He pushed play again, like he had countless of time that day.

The boy was still for a moment, turning around with a sweet smile. Then sound...

"My dad calls it my fortress of solitude." A young Clark said shyly.

Behind him, a small girl stepped onto screen.

Blonde.

"Where?" Lex growled low, his eyes red and dry from exhaustion.

Emil glanced from the monitors, "Inside the city. We figured she wouldn't have gone far from here." They watched as the girl took Clark's hand and led him to the bay windows. "She changed her name, as we predicted." Emil frowned, studying the way the young Clark responded so easily to this young girl.

Lex paused the tape, his oher hand still rolling the marbles around and around.
"Where is she now?"

Emil looked down, "Outside in the hall."

"What?" Lex spun around and stood. "I gave you strict orders that reintroducing her into the project would be a last resort!"

Emil shook his head, "She is here, Mr. Luthor, on an invitation for an exclsuive interview with Luthor Corp's project coordinator."

"An interview?" Lex frowned.

Emil nodded, eyes alight. "We found her at her employment." Emil said with a smirk, knowing Lex would enjoy this. "The Daily Planet."

The Daily Planet! It was LuthorCorp's biggest critic and whistle blower. Of course the girl would grow up to work there. Lex barely had time to break out in a mirthless laugh before his intercom buzzed. It was his assistant.

"Mr. Luthor, we need to discuss these new orders you've submitted to the field crew--"

"There's no time for discussion, Clint." Lex spoke curtly to the microphone, "Orders were set in motion four minutes ago by my watch." Lex released the talk button, with a sliver of a smile.

Emil frowned, pulling out his clipboard and shuffling through the itinerary for the new day, "What new orders?" He looked through the highlighted pages, and then looked again.

Lex's attention was already glued back to the monitors and screens, the same archive footage replaying again. "Oh," he said absently, "Have I neglected to inform you about the new direction the project is taking, Doctor?"

"Yes." Emil barked unintentionally, and then quieted his temper with the next, "I was not informed of any special orders, Mr. Luthor."

"Neither was most of the crew until fifteen minutes ago." Lex said evenly, using the tracking ball to move through the archive tape. His eyes were consumed inside the bright pixels of light, red blue and green, flashing with the fast forwarding and rewinding of what had been recorded in the past. "I apologize for the impulsive behavior, but that's why they call it strokes of genius, Dr. Hamilton."

Emil watched him as if he were watching a caged tiger, mesmerized by a invisible muse from beyond the bars and just out of reach. He saw Lex smile, but it was strange. Cold. Empty.

For years, Emil Hamilton had worked for one Luthor or another. Lionel was harsh man, all business and cut throat. But when it came to the project, this entire world he had built and manicured, Lionel was a pacified creator. His ideas and direction were calculated and designed much like an architect. Smallville was loved, and cherished as a success, perhaps one of Lionel Luthors only living accomplishment to his name. Lionel and his company was building to something great, back in the day.

But that was seven, almost eight years ago.

And now, as Emil Hamilton worked for Lionel's son, he saw the change. This discord of father/son rivalry, of cheated childhood years that were preserved inside of Smallville and then rehearsed in front of young Alexander Luthor's eyes.

Emil saw what bitterness Lionel left behind and left his son to inherit, distilling emotionless gaps in his mannerism, and questionable, often bizarre problem solving. Lex Luthor was dangerous to this world his father had built, sometimes acting as if all his effort was geared towards tearing the project apart.
Tearing his father's memory apart. Resentment, ran deep in the vein.

"Lex," Emil said cautiously, his tone informal, almost as a concerned friend who had discovered something terribly wrong, "What have you done?"


*


Clark woke, his body bare except for the black strapped watch clasped snuggly over his wrist. It was the one thing he refused to shed from his body. It was still early, the digital clock reading well before sunrise. But he was awake, like he had been for these strange odd days lately, so he sat up from bed, uncurling his legs from the sheets so that Lois wouldn't wake. He threw on his robe, and shuffled to the kitchen where he searched for confirmation from the clock of the wall above the stove. It conferred with the other one, and his father's watch too. Four in the morning.

So why was he awake?

Clark made coffee in a dark kitchen, the smell piercing his nostrils when the red light appeared on the coffee maker.

The coffee was burnt.

Clark sniffed it again.

Really burnt.

He poured it out, and rinsed the filter. Lois was right the first time, he was terrible at making coffee. Clark reset the machine and leaned against the counter patiently. But the smell, it wouldn't go away.

He opened the windows and then the screen door, stepping outside to fan the house until he forgot about the botched coffee altogether, frowning at the sky. Clark looked at his father watch again, checking that no, it wasn't time for morning yet.

But yet here it was, the sky glowing intensely like the whole world was on...

Clark blinked.

Red.

Embers.

"Fire!" Clark yelled dumbly, still in the stupor of sleep. The early morning was quiet, a lonely breeze kicking up his robe. Clark yelled it again, cursing as he backed up into the screen door and then scrambled inside for his pants.

The Smallville Volunteer Fire Department was a very proud organization of men and women who lived throughout the community and came together when danger struck.

There were several stations planted around the city, all with polished marble brick and equally shiny red engines.

The department had a very low call volume, many of the crew never actually having to fight a actual working fire, but mandatory drills took place every Monday night where they practiced fire fighting protocol and regiments that went with saving lives.

During those drills, Clark Kent could out run anyone that was set against him, many calling him a "blur" that you would only see in the wake of his speed. He was also the guy who could carry the most line, the heaviest of tools, the guy who could carry three men on his back. A natural athlete and leader, Clark was made the youngest district captain of the department.

And it showed, Clark sprinting to the station down the street in his blue flannel pajamas and his bath robe billowing behind him.

Fire! Clark thought excitedly. He shouldn't be giddy nor this happy, this was serious. Someone could be in danger, someone would be danger if he didn't get there quick enough. But he couldn't help the smile on his face, or the way his adrenaline kicked his feet a little higher, his legs moving a little faster...

This was an actual fire. A true call for help. For once, Clark Kent was running towards his calling.

Clark flew into the station, grabbing his fire-suit and helmet on the way to the siren system. He wound up the old crank, the speakers above the station coming alive with a loud whine and roar.

Clark wound the crank over and over easily with the bulk of his massive shoulders, his boyish grin becoming wider as he saw porch doors down the neighbor street open one after another, the rest of the fire crew sprinting to the station.


*

The sound.

Clark loved the sound. Both the high whine of the siren and the boisterous belch of the engine's horn as the fire truck sped towards the red glow. The blue and amber lights bounced off of houses and cars, and Clark loved that too. A kaleidoscope of colors, beautiful in its promise of hope, of help on the way.

The engine held eight crew members, plus the driver. But Clark preferred riding the engine the old way, holding onto the chrome arm bars of the side, his dark hair beaten by the wind, and him enjoying every second of it.

"Faster, Pete!" Clark yelled inside to his friend, the driver. Pete glanced at him, his helmet lopsided and perhaps a little over sized. Clark saw what looked like fear in his eyes, and he saw it within the rest of the crews too. They were nervous, never having to fight an actual fire before.

But while they were nervous, Clark was hopeful. His arm extending towards the road where he directed Pete to travel, knowing the fastest routes to where the glow grew stronger. He leaned back inside the truck and encouraged his crew. There was confidence in his eyes, leadership in his strong voice that you could hear boldly over the loudest of sirens. Much like a captain holding on to a vessel in dark, rough seas, Clark's body swayed with the road and with the wind, in the eerily dark, crimson morning. Smoke was gathering in the sky, the glow brightest over the edges of the rooftops. They were close now.

"It's the school!" Clark shouted, once he had a clear shot of the flames. His brows tightened when he saw how much of the building was consumed, wondering how long the fire had been growing. The fire was ablaze, Smallville High School crumbling within its own brick.

They arrived on scene, a separate engine traveling behind them forming a perimeter. Clark assumed command, directing the ladder trucks into position.

"Lay down the five inch lines," Clark shouted in the amber light, "Let's get lines up top before this thing gets to the roof and the whole building's lost!"

For a moment, the other crew members just stood there, some of them holding their helmets in their shaking hands. But as they saw Clark begin to unravel the long hoses from the truck, they soon fell into step. Each one looking at the enormous monster that breathed in hot orange and red flame. Each one looking then at one another for direction, or a single clue as to what was going on.



*

Inside the observatory room, Dr. Hamilton was holding his head.

"Look at him!" Lex said, pleased, casting a bright eye at the many monitors making of the room's tall wall. "Look at him, Emil and tell me that isn't the brightest grin you've ever seen."

"Mr. Luthor," Emil groaned, "You instructed crew members to burn down part of the working set. How could you do that?"

"What do you mean, 'how could I do that?'" Lex hissed, turning a sour eye. "It was necessary, Doctor, that someone take initiative and do something to put this project back on track."

"By destroying the foundations of the very same project?" Emil exclaimed, confused. "Mr. Luthor, you're going to have to explain this one to me."

Lex tapped one of the screens, a camera following Clark's form, his golden fire-suit against the dark smoke. "This, is problem solving." He explained very slowly, and with a tinge of condescension. "Clark, needed something in his life. Maybe it was excitement, maybe a future with a little more purpose. Perhaps something more aspiring that writing for that painfully dull paper my father created far too long ago."

Emil shook his head, not following.

"Purpose!" Lex shouted, his hands in the air triumphantly. "Clark Kent has only deeply wished for something purposeful in his life, Dr. Emil. Any man cannot live without some sort of fulfillment, accomplishment. And with this," he turned back to the screen, to the burning school, "Clark Kent has his purpose. He's shown an affinity for compassion and the general need to help people, so why not?" Lex's eyes narrowed as if to challenge any words from Emil. "Let's give him that. Give him that... purpose."His voice turned cold for a moment, the lapse of emotion haunting.

Clark appeared onscreen again, soot and ash on his face as he prepared to enter the burning building, carrying a heavy hose. A warrior charging into the fight.

Lex breathed a very small laugh, or was it a growl? Emil couldn't tell with Lex. He was entirely too unpredictable.

"Look at him, Emil." Lex said distantly, "Why, right now, I bet he's having the time of his life."

The doctor cleared his throat, preparing his paperwork. "The fire could spread, have you thought about that?"

"Nonsense." Lex said dismissively, "The school grounds are very secluded with the parking lots and all... and at four in the morning there isn't a single person at that campus. I think it was a rather successful location."

"Those people out there are actors!" Emil plead with him, "They don't know the first thing about going into burning buildings! They won't be able to save the school."

Lex watched with apathy, and then said . "So let it burn."

Emil stared in frustration. It was all out of his hands, the project teetering through the fingers of another Luthor.

Lex Luthor.

Emil grit his teeth, starting for the door.

"Oh, Dr. Hamilton."

He stopped, waiting a moment to calm his nerves before he turned to meet the cold gaze of his employer.

"When you leave here," Lex said with superiority, reveling in it, "be sure to escort our young and intrepid reporter from the Daily Planet into my office."

Emil frowned hard, "What do you want with her? I thought you didn't want her in any part of this--"

"You brought her here, Dr. Hamilton." Lex reminded snidely, "And since she's already made the very long trip, why not accommodate a former member of the community?"

Lex Luthor was never an accommodating man. There was a plan behind his bland words, a calloused plan that Emil had not yet figured out.

"Yes, sir." He said, turning the door, "I'll bring her up."

*



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