Standing by the edge of the field, Locke's deep in conversation with Lionel about this year's oat prices, both of them getting along like old friends. Anthony's off to the side, punching numbers into a calculator and tossing in his half-baked market analysis every now and then.
"Honestly, Mr. Locke," Lionel says, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses with a hint of admiration, "a man with your insight is wasted on farm work. LuthorCorp has plenty of management roles in ag-tech. Ever thought about—"
"Thanks for the offer," Locke cuts in with a smile, his gaze drifting to the golden wheat fields in the distance. His eyes soften. "The younger me would've jumped at it. But now…" He pauses. "I've found something more important than career success."
Lionel blinks, then gives a knowing smile. "My apologies for overstepping." He glances at Anthony. "Mr. Anthony, grab the purchase order. Mr. Locke, if you're good with it, we can—"
"Absolutely," Locke says, reaching into his pocket for a pen. But out of the corner of his eye, he catches something in the sky—several crimson streaks slicing through the clear blue.
"Meteors?" he mutters, surprised. At this time of day?
Suddenly, his pupils shrink, his face going pale. Without a word, he shoves Lionel aside and sprints toward the cornfield, so fast that Anthony's papers scatter across the ground.
Lionel stumbles but steadies himself, about to demand an explanation, when his bodyguards shout, "Sir! Look!"
The businessman whips around, following their pointed fingers. High above, a fiery red streak is hurtling toward the farm at terrifying speed.
"A meteorite?!" Lionel's voice cracks. "Get Lex out of there! Now!"
The bodyguards hesitate for a split second but quickly split into two teams. One escorts Lionel to safety, while the other… well, they circle the cornfield cautiously. A few grand a month isn't worth risking their lives.
Locke, on the other hand, is a father on a mission. He charges through the corn, thick stalks whipping his face and leaving thin cuts. He barely notices, his mind consumed with thoughts of Dio.
"Star Platinum!"
The purple Stand materializes behind him, smashing through the cornstalks blocking his path.
"Dio!" Locke's shout echoes through the field.
But there's no answer. The cornfield's just too damn big. Why the hell did I buy such a huge plot? Locke's heart feels like it's bleeding as he keeps running, searching desperately.
Then—BOOM! A deafening explosion shakes the ground, followed by a familiar plume of fire and a wave of heat rolling through the air. Locke's heart nearly stops. He races toward the blast, panic driving every step.
When he finally bursts out of the corn, the sight before him freezes the blood in his veins: a smoldering crater, several yards wide, surrounded by flattened cornstalks in a radial pattern of destruction.
And at the edge of the crater, a small figure kneels, clutching something in their arms.
"Lex!" Locke rushes forward, his breath catching as he sees Lex Luthor holding an unconscious Dio. The boy's blond hair is caked with dirt, a jagged wound near his collarbone bleeding heavily.
"What… what happened?" Locke drops to one knee, hands trembling as he checks Dio's injuries.
"Dio… he saved that guy…" Lex stammers, pointing to a shirtless young man slumped nearby, his face a mix of shock and confusion.
"Then…" Lex's broken glasses glint in the dim light, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Even his thinning hair seems to be falling out faster. "The meteorite came down. I saw a rock flying toward Dio, so I tackled him, but… the rock still hit him."
"We're leaving!" Locke scoops Dio into his arms and grabs Lex with his other hand. "We need to get out of here now!"
But after a few steps, he feels a tug at his shirt. Turning, he sees the young man Dio saved, legs shaking, pleading, "T-Take me with you…"
Locke grits his teeth, about to respond, when the roar of engines cuts through the air. Three black SUVs barrel through the cornfield. Lionel, in the lead vehicle, looks graver than ever.
"Get in!" he barks, pulling Lex into the car.
Locke, still cradling Dio, climbs into the last SUV. Through the window, he sees the ruined cornfield stretching out behind them.
---
Under the harsh white lights of the hospital corridor, Locke paces like a caged animal. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with the cold metallic tang of surgical tools only makes the air feel heavier, more suffocating.
"Damn it!" He slams a fist against the wall, frustration boiling over.
Who could've predicted a meteor shower hitting Smallville eight years after Clark's arrival?
The sound of hurried footsteps breaks the silence. Clark bursts into view, his curly hair a mess from running, blue eyes wide with panic. Behind him, Martha's face is ashen, and Jonathan trails last, his usually cheerful expression replaced with a grim scowl.
"Oh, God…" Martha's knees buckle as she spots the glaring red light above the operating room.
Jonathan catches her, easing her onto a bench, and whispers to Clark, "Take care of your mom, son. Get her some air outside."
Clark nods, lips tight. He's bursting with questions, but one look at Locke's bloodshot eyes and the closed operating room doors keeps him quiet. "Come on, Mom," he says softly, helping her up. "Let's go to the garden. The air's better there."
Martha nods dazedly, letting Clark guide her. But as she passes Locke, the usually strong farmwife grabs his arm, her nails digging in. "He'll be okay, right?" Her voice is barely a whisper, fragile as a falling feather.
Locke opens his mouth, but his throat's too dry to speak.
Jonathan gently pries her hand away. "Give Locke a second, honey. Dio's tough as nails. Remember when he fell off the barn loft and was back to running around the next day?"
He says it with confidence, but as soon as Martha and Clark's footsteps fade down the hall, his face darkens. "What'd the doctor say?" he asks, his voice tight with worry, no less anxious than Martha or Clark.
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