Three hours later, Smoville Town Library.
The librarian adjusted his glasses, casting a suspicious glance at the blond kid in the corner for the fifth time.
Since this afternoon, that boy had torn through Introduction to Futures Trading, The History of U.S. Agricultural Subsidies, and even A Wall Street Trader's Diary. He'd been scribbling furiously in a notebook the whole time.
What the heck was he up to?
The librarian swallowed hard. Was he about to witness the rise of Smoville's own Wolf of Wall Street?
"Uh, hello, sir."
A cool, crisp voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Ah?!" The librarian jumped, nearly spilling his coffee on the checkout cards.
"Y-Yes? Can I help you?" He looked up at the blond teen now standing at the counter, those sharp red eyes making him a little uneasy. "Are you… borrowing a book?"
Dio's face was blank as he tapped his notebook. "Are you hiring any librarians?"
"Uh…" The librarian blinked, then shook his head. "Sorry, we don't hire student part-timers, especially high schoolers."
"…"
Dio didn't say another word. He snapped his notebook shut with a crisp thud and turned toward the door, his tall figure radiating a faint but unmistakable restlessness.
Gotta find a way to make some cash and rub it in that old man's smug face.
---
When Dio pushed open the front door of the house, the sun had already dipped behind the barn.
He'd spent the whole afternoon running around town, hitting up every place he could think of: the general store, the fast-food joint, the auto shop…
Every single one was a dead end.
Smoville's broke high schoolers had already claimed every low-paying gig in town.
He stormed through the living room, his boots leaving muddy streaks on the floor. He barely acknowledged Locke's greeting with a half-hearted "mm."
"What's up with him?" Locke muttered, his coffee mug frozen mid-air, one eyebrow raised so high it nearly hit his hairline.
He squinted toward the staircase, listening to Dio's heavy, frustrated steps fade down the upstairs hallway.
Is this about what happened at lunch?
Locke shook his head, deciding he'd talk to him later.
Up in his bedroom, Dio locked the door, shutting out the world. His eyes zeroed in on the hulking thing on his desk, covered by a dust cloth.
It was the IBM Aptiva his dad had given him for his birthday two years ago—supposedly a cutting-edge personal computer with some fancy Windows 98 system.
Last resort, I guess.
He wasn't big on tech, but right now, he had to try something.
He yanked off the dust cover and hit the big power button.
Bzzz—bzzz-bzzz.
The machine groaned like an old tractor, and the monitor flickered to life, showing a blue sky with fluffy clouds.
Dio frowned at the Windows 98 startup screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he suddenly realized he wasn't even that good at typing.
Whatever. Just do what the old man showed me.
He fumbled with the keyboard, trying to recall Locke's instructions: "Click that… little arrow thing that looks like a mouse… then the globe icon…"
Where the heck was the F key?
The blinking cursor on the screen seemed to mock his slowness.
It took a full ten minutes, but Dio finally managed to painstakingly type into the search bar, letter by letter:
Kansas high-paying part-time jobs
The page loaded, and a flood of results filled the screen.
Dio's eyes widened slightly.
The internet's this wild?!
- Smoville Gas Station Night Cashier: $5.50/hr
- Hoxville Farm Picker: $80/day
- Metropolis Delivery Sorting Center: $400/week
But as he scrolled through the endless list of low-wage grunt work, his irritation grew. These measly paychecks wouldn't even cover Clark's grocery bill.
Damn it.
He was practically grinding his teeth at the screen. Even the mighty internet can't help me?
With a disappointed sigh, Dio moved to close the page. But just as his finger hovered over the button, a bright, flashing ad at the bottom caught his eye:
The Iceberg Lounge
(Hiring 3 "Kings"! Base pay $3,000/day + 6% commission! The hottest nightlife spot in the Midwest! You'll be rolling in cash!)
Dio's finger froze over the mouse.
Kings?
He narrowed his eyes. Even with Clark's football-and-mashed-potatoes brain, he could tell this wasn't some cheesy homecoming "king" nonsense. Was it bartender slang? Or…
Almost on impulse, his finger clicked the flashing pop-up.
A chat window instantly appeared, tagged with BlackgatePenguinC, sending a single, cold question mark: ?
Dio hesitated for two seconds before typing stiffly: "Where?"
BlackgatePenguinC: Gotham.
Gotham?
That crime-ridden city where, rumor had it, there were more crooks than cops? He vaguely remembered Uncle Jonathan saying his dad had been picked up by Old Bob on the side of Interstate 70, begging for scraps just outside Gotham.
Too far. Too dangerous. I'll find another way.
Dio moved to close the window.
Ding!
As if sensing his hesitation, BlackgatePenguinC typed: Scared?
Scared?!
Dio's sneer practically hissed out of his nose. His fingers slammed the keyboard: "Where."
No spacebar, just pure impatience.
BlackgatePenguinC: Gotham, near the waterfront. The flashiest building there.
Before Dio could respond, another message popped up, dripping with mockery: "Oh, and if you're ugly, don't bother. You'd just waste my time…"
The rest of the threat didn't even load because—
Creak!
His bedroom door swung open without warning.
"Dio," Locke's voice came, warm and ready for a heart-to-heart. "About the farm, I wanted to—"
He stopped dead. The blue glow of the screen lit up Dio's frozen face. He scrambled to close the browser, but it was too late.
Locke's weathered face broke into a weird mix of surprise, understanding, and a sly grin. "Dio," he said, clearing his throat, his tone turning teasing. He even slowly, thoughtfully pulled the door shut. "I'll talk to you later."
"…"
What does that old man think I'm doing?!
Dio glared at the closed door, his face dark as a storm cloud.
Damn it. I'm gonna make a ton of cash, shove it in his face, and make him eat that smug look!
---