Outside, raindrops pattered against the window, while the warm glow of the dining room light cast a cozy halo over the table.
Snapping out of the earlier excitement, Dio gracefully cut a small piece of steak with his knife and fork, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
"Dad," he said suddenly, a hint of curiosity in his voice, "last night, you could've taken out that robot in a second. Why bother with the shotgun and blasting cap?"
Clark's head shot up, his blue eyes sparkling with the same question.
He'd been holding it in for a while—after last night, he was sure Uncle Lock wasn't just some regular guy. He was like them, someone with special powers.
They might've kept it from him, but Clark wasn't that clueless!
Lock's hand paused mid-bite, clearly caught off guard by Dio's question.
He gave a pleased smile, his gaze drifting between the two boys before setting down his utensils with a serious tone. "The greater the power, the more valuable restraint becomes."
Dio's brow furrowed, clearly not fully satisfied with the answer.
"Dio, Clark," Lock continued, "we can't let our powers make us arrogant or ditch the principles of being human. If we rely on our abilities for everything, we'll lose touch with who we are."
"I don't buy it," Dio huffed, poking at his steak with his fork. "Why go the normal way when you've got the power to handle things directly?"
"It's not about forcing it," Lock shook his head. "It's about choice."
"Power is a tool, not who you are."
"If we start seeing ourselves as separate from regular people, we'll eventually forget how to think like humans."
"Power breeds arrogance, and arrogance clouds your judgment." His eyes landed on Clark, adding meaningfully, "What makes humans strong is their wisdom."
In plain English: Use your brain. You can use superpowers, but Uncle Lock suggests leaning on human smarts first.
"But didn't you end up using your powers anyway?" Dio muttered. "You didn't exactly hold back."
"Wrong, Dio," Lock shook his head. "My wisdom told me it was time to use my powers."
"…"
Clark looked thoughtful, catching the way Lock's gaze locked onto him with that last line.
It felt like a warning—or maybe an expectation.
So much so that he forgot to ask what this "superpower" they were talking about even was…
Dio rolled his eyes, still acting unimpressed, but his movements slowed, clearly mulling over Lock's words.
Seeing both boys take his words to heart, Lock felt a wave of satisfaction.
Maybe this—raising these kids—was one of the moments he cherished most since crossing into this world.
Ordinary, but brimming with the warmth of everyday life.
Even the stone mask hanging above the fireplace seemed to quiver a little at the sight.
---
Morning sunlight barely slipped through the curtains when the shrill ring of the phone shattered the farm's quiet.
Lock groaned, reaching from under the covers to fumble for the old rotary phone on his nightstand.
"Hello?" His voice was hoarse, still half-asleep.
"Lock! You finally picked up!"
An almost squeaky, excited voice blasted through the receiver. "A big-time buyer's coming to town today to check out crops for purchase! You in or what? Keep dawdling, and that wheat in your silo's gonna mold!"
Lock rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Anthony, you know my wheat never sits unsold."
"This is different!" Anthony's words tumbled out fast. "They're offering 1.3 times the market price!"
"Get yourself together and get over here! The big shot's chopper is about to land."
"Oh, and bring Dio. Word is the buyer's got a son around his age."
Click!
The call cut off.
Lock held the receiver, stunned for a second, then raised an eyebrow.
1.3 times?
No wonder Anthony was losing it. As the middleman, his cut from this deal could match a month's earnings.
And honestly, 1.3 times the price was tempting.
Lock stretched, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
He'd been eyeing a new pickup truck for a while. That old Ford was on its last legs, coughing like it had tuberculosis every time it started.
"Kids!"
Lock rolled out of bed, clapping his hands loudly. "Up and at 'em! We're heading to town today!"
The words barely left his mouth before a rustling came from the next room.
Dio appeared in the doorway, his blond hair a mess, red eyes still sleepy but already carrying his usual smug vibe. "Town?"
"Sweet!" Clark practically launched off his bed, nearly smacking his head on the ceiling. "Didn't Uncle Lock say Mom and Dad are in town too?"
"You two…"
Lock shook his head with a chuckle, pulling his rarely worn navy plaid shirt from the closet—saved for special occasions.
"Hurry up and get ready. Dio, tame that hair. Clark, don't you dare put on those muddy work pants—yeah, the ones you're trying to sneak on right now."
Clark sheepishly dropped the pants. Dio huffed, grabbing a comb.
Half an hour later, the old Ford pickup belched black smoke as it hit the country road.
Dio sat in the passenger seat, his blond hair fluttering in the morning breeze. Clark sprawled in the truck bed, excitedly watching the golden wheat fields zip by.
"Dad," Dio said suddenly, "what's the deal with this big buyer? Why the crazy high price?"
"No clue. Anthony was vague as usual," Lock said, one hand on the wheel. "I'm curious too. Usually, buyers like this don't just show up out of nowhere—"
He didn't finish, but Dio caught the implication.
If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
"Uncle Lock," Clark poked his head up from the truck bed, all earnest. "Could it be a big company like Wayne Enterprises from Gotham? Last time they came, Mom and Dad were thrilled for a week."
Lock went quiet for a second.
Was he being too paranoid?
"Clark," Lock glanced back, "you might be right. We shouldn't always assume the worst—"
"—of a good man's intentions," Dio finished with a sigh. "You've said that so much my ears are calloused."
Already sick of my nagging, huh?
Lock felt a pang of mock hurt for half a second.
Then he floored the gas, the old Ford groaning as it sped toward town.
---
The old Ford rattled into town, its tires crunching over the cobblestone road.
Slowing down, Lock scanned the shops lining the street.
First, he needed to find Martha and Jonathan.
They'd mentioned on the phone they were grabbing breakfast at a café.
The place was easy to spot—called Golden Wheat, right next to the town's only flower shop. With those landmarks, it didn't take long to spot it at the street corner.
"Here we are, boys."
Lock parked by the curb.
The Ford let out a relieved sigh as he cut the engine.
Pfft!
A puff of black smoke spurted from the exhaust.
"There they are."
Lock's lips curved up. Through the café's window, he could clearly see Jonathan and Martha at a window table.
Jonathan was stirring sugar into his coffee, while Martha, laughing, held a half-eaten blueberry muffin.
Pushing open the door, Lock turned to the boys. "Come on, let's grab some food."
"I'm not hungry, Dad," Dio said, stepping out gracefully and smoothing his shirt collar.
Clark, meanwhile, vaulted out of the truck bed, landing with a thud that shook the ground and drew startled glances from passersby.
This kid's got that much strength?
"Easy, Clark," Dio shot him a look. "Trying to draw the whole street's attention?"
"Sorry, Dio," Clark scratched his head, sheepish. "I'm just starving."