Standing by the ridge,
Locke was in the middle of an animated discussion with Lionel about the price of this year's oat harvest.
Anthony stood nearby with a calculator, occasionally butting in with his half-baked "market analyses."
"To be honest, Mr. Kent," Lionel adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone carrying a note of admiration, "a man of your insight is wasted running a farm. Our LuthorCorp manages several agricultural technology projects. I wonder if you might be willing to—"
"Thank you for the kind offer," Locke interrupted with a smile. His gaze swept toward the golden wheat fields in the distance, softening. "In my younger years, I might have agreed without hesitation. But now…"
"I've realized there are things more important than professional success."
At this, Lionel paused, then gave a knowing smile. "My apologies, I spoke out of turn."
"Mr. Anthony," he signaled with his eyes, "bring out the acquisition contract. Mr. Kent, if you don't mind, we could—"
"Of course."
Locke reached into his pocket for a pen, when, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the sky behind Lionel.
Several crimson arcs streaked across the blue heavens.
"A meteor shower?"
He murmured instinctively, surprised. At this time of year? Impossible—
Suddenly, his pupils constricted, his face turning pale.
Without even explaining, Locke shoved Lionel aside and sprinted headlong toward the cornfields.
His sudden movement sent Anthony's papers scattering everywhere.
Lionel staggered back a few steps, about to demand an explanation—when the bodyguards' alarmed shouts rang out:
"Sir! Look—!"
The businessman spun around, following their pointing fingers.
Up in the sky, a blazing red trail was plummeting straight toward the farmland!
"A meteorite?!"
"F***!" Lionel's voice cracked in panic. "Get Lex out of there! Now!"
The bodyguards hesitated for a moment, but their training kicked in quickly.
One team surrounded Lionel, escorting him toward safety.
The other… lingered cautiously at the edge of the cornfield, circling but not entering.
Five grand a month was good, but not worth dying over.
Meanwhile, Locke was frantic. He crashed through the corn, thick stalks lashing across his face, leaving thin bloody scratches.
He didn't care at all. All he could think about was Dio.
"Star Platinum!" The purple Stand manifested behind him, flattening every stalk in their way with sweeping blows.
"Dio!!"
His shout echoed through the cornfield.
But—
He couldn't find him.
The field was simply too vast.
Locke's heart felt like it was being carved apart. Why in the world had he bought such a massive plot of land?!
He kept searching, searching—until the fiery arc overhead finally reached its end, not far from where he was.
"BOOM!"
A deafening explosion tore the air. A towering plume of flame erupted, and a scorching shockwave washed over him.
Locke's heart nearly stopped. He sprinted toward the blast like a madman.
When he finally broke out of the corn, the sight before him froze his blood:
A charred crater several meters wide, still spewing thick smoke. The surrounding stalks were flattened into a radial wasteland by the impact.
And at the farthest edge of the pit—
A small, frail figure knelt on the ground, cradling something in his arms.
"Lex!"
Locke rushed over, and only then did he see clearly: young Luthor was clutching an unconscious Dio.
The boy's golden hair was matted with dirt, and a terrible wound gaped near his collarbone.
"W-what… what happened?"
Locke dropped to one knee, his hands trembling as he checked over his son's injuries.
"Dio—he… he saved that man, and then…"
Following young Luthor's shaking finger, Locke saw a shirtless young man slumped on the ground not far away, his face filled with dazed confusion and terror.
"And then…"
Lex's glasses were cracked, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Even his already-thinning blonde hair had begun to fall out in clumps. His voice trembled:
"The meteorite… it fell."
"I—I saw a rock flying toward Dio, so I tackled him down, but the rock…"
"The rock still cut him."
"We're leaving, now!" Locke scooped Dio into his arms, grabbed Lex with his other hand, and tried to run.
But after only a few steps, he felt a tug at his sleeve.
He turned back—it was the young man Dio had rescued.
"Take… take me too…" The young man pleaded, his legs buckling from fright.
Locke clenched his jaw, ready to respond, when the harsh roar of engines grew louder.
Three black SUVs burst through the cornfield. In the lead vehicle, Lionel's face was grim like never before.
"Get in!" the businessman barked, his words clipped. He reached out and yanked his son into the car.
Locke climbed aboard the last vehicle with Dio in his arms. Through the window—
Only desolation remained where the cornfield had stood.
...
In the harsh white light of the hospital corridor, Locke paced like a caged beast.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
But here, with the stench of disinfectant mixed with the sterile chill of surgical steel, the already-heavy air felt suffocating.
"Damn it!"
He slammed his fist against the wall, helpless rage consuming him.
Who could have imagined that in the eighth year after Clark's arrival, another meteor shower would strike the town?
Tap, tap, tap—
Rapid footsteps shattered the silence of the hallway.
Clark appeared first, curls in disarray from running, his blue eyes wide with panic.
Behind him was Martha, her face ashen. Jonathan was a step behind, his usually cheerful face now grim.
"Oh, God…"
The moment Martha's eyes landed on the glaring red light above the operating room, her legs gave out.
Jonathan caught her quickly, lowering her onto a bench. He turned to Clark and whispered, "Son, look after your mother. Take her outside, the air's better there."
Clark bit his lip and nodded. He had a storm of questions inside, but one look at Uncle Locke's bloodshot eyes and the tightly shut doors of the operating room silenced him.
"Mom, let's go get some fresh air outside. The garden over there is a bit better..."
Martha nodded vaguely, letting Clark help her up. But as she passed Locke, the usually gentle and strong farm woman grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"
Her voice was as soft as a feather landing.
Locke opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry—no words came.
At last, Jonathan gently pried his wife's hand free. "Let Locke breathe, dear."
"Dio's tougher than you think. Remember when he fell from the second floor of the barn? Next day he was running around like nothing happened."
That's what he said.
But as soon as mother and son's footsteps faded down the hall, Jonathan's face hardened.
"What did the doctors say?" he asked urgently—his worry no less than theirs.