White Kryptonite was first introduced in Adventure Comics #279 back in December 1960—an oddity in Superman's kaleidoscope of colored Kryptonite types. It was harmless to Kryptonians themselves yet lethal to Kryptonian flora, obliterating plant life in seconds. It was a niche piece of lore, easily overshadowed by its infamous green counterpart, but to comic enthusiasts, it was a charming little branch on Superman's ever-growing mythological tree.
And how did Lucinda know all that?
Because she was a fan. Not just a casual fan—oh no. She was the type of fan who debated power-scaling in Reddit forums at 3 a.m., who memorized the chronological differences between Golden Age and Post-Crisis continuities, who could explain every color of Kryptonite like someone discussing fine wine.
But Smallville. Smallville had been her downfall. Her comfort series. The story she adored so much that she swore she would never, ever interfere with its beautiful plot—even if it meant watching Lex Luthor, one of the most complex men in fiction, fall into villainy right before her eyes.
The plan was to keep the story intact.
Was being the key word.
Because now? Now Lucinda had absolutely no idea what story she was standing in anymore.
Lex didn't tell her where he got the white meteorite. She didn't ask either. Nothing made sense to her—not anymore.
She stared at the ruined hallway where they had almost died. Dust still drifted from the ceiling like falling snow. Chunks of concrete and twisted rebar jutted from the destroyed walls, blocking the passage completely. Sparks fizzled in dying sizzles from a half-torn panel above them. The once-sterile corridor had become a graveyard of debris.
Lex stood beside her, his expression unreadable. Together, the two of them exhaled long, defeated sighs.
Now that the infected plants—Green-Kryptonite–infected mutants, as Lucinda had deduced—were dead, one problem remained.
A very big problem.
The exit was on the other side of the collapsed hallway.
Meaning:
They were trapped.
Entrapped between two storage rooms behind them and the tiny chamber that housed Lex's stash of meteorite weapons. The only escape route now lay buried under several tons of rubble.
"Your phone died. No electricity. No signal. And probably no air soon," Lucinda muttered, exhaling a breath that fogged the chilled air.
Lex didn't respond, but the heavy, resigned way he sighed was answer enough.
They were stuck.
With no way out.
Lucinda turned to complain—to nag, to scold, to cry, maybe all three—but Lex startled her by shrugging off his coat and placing it around her shoulders. Warmth, faint but present, wrapped around her.
"For someone who lived in a tropical country, I'm surprised you don't seem so cold," he murmured.
Lucinda blinked up at him. "Nah, you should use it. If something happens to you, I'll die anyway." She was halfway through removing the coat to hand it back when Lex gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
"You're under my care, Lucy. Nothing's gonna happen to you," his voice was firm. Calm. Steady. And ridiculously attractive.
Lucinda was mesmerized for a whole sinful second, then—with the dignity of a true warrior—slapped her own cheek to snap out of it.
Lex blinked. "Are you alright?"
"Ah. Mosquito. Instincts," she said brightly, forcing a grin and immediately pointing to the room behind them. "We should get inside before we freeze. It's warmer there."
Lex gave her a small smile, an oddly soft one, and gestured for her to go first.
Inside, the room was bare save for cold metal walls and the small safe-door where Lex had re-stored the White Kryptonite. The air was still and quiet, a strange pocket of calm after the chaos.
Lex retrieved the broken door Lucinda had previously annihilated and propped it over the shattered frame, wedging it in place with respectable craftsmanship.
"This should do," he said, surprisingly cheerful for someone recently chased by mutant vines. "And somehow, I'm starting to consider making you my bodyguard."
Lucinda froze mid-step, eyes widening. "Really?"
"Yes," Lex nodded thoughtfully. "You have the speed and definitely the strength, but—"
"But what?"
"There's a height requirement."
Lucinda's jaw dropped. "Wow. The discrimination."
"Having requirements isn't discrimination, Lucy," Lex corrected smoothly, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's called a business standard. A necessary filtration system. We evaluate competency, not… vertical limitations."
Lucinda narrowed her eyes. "Wow. So now you're filtering me like spam mail. Mr. Luthor, sir, almighty CEO of Height Supremacy Incorporated," she gave him a dramatic bow and sat down as she did.
Lex chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you keep talking like that, I might actually reconsider hiring you. Not as a bodyguard, but possibly as a stress test for my patience."
"Well at least I'm finally having a clear job," Lucinda muttered under her breath. "You always drag me along with you, I'm starting to think I'll be having pay raise. Because definitely, this is not in the job description of a wine cellar manager."
Lex laughed again, softer this time, shaking his head as he surveyed their temporary shelter. "The scientists will arrive in a few hours. And if we're lucky, the guards nearby heard the commotion. We might be out of here in less than an hour."
Lucinda nodded, then sank slowly to the floor as though gravity had personally offended her. She buried her head between her knees, quietly spiraling. Internally, she was already writing her own obituary.
"What happens now?" she murmured to the tiles.
She jerked upright when Lex casually sat beside her—not close enough to imply warmth, not far enough to deny it. Just… present. A surprisingly grounding presence for a bald man who'd nearly been turned into plant fertilizer ten minutes ago.
"You can take your coat back if you're too cold, Mr. Luthor," she offered, lifting a corner of the fabric gently. "You know. Since it's your body and your heat regulation and all."
Lex turned slightly toward her, smiling. "When the meteorites crashed in Smallville and caused my hair to fall out, something else happened. My immune system was altered. It increased my white blood cell count, making me immune to common illnesses, diseases, and poisons."
Lucinda's eyes widened. "Wha—WHAT? That's canon?!"
Lex blinked. "Canon?"
"Can," she waved. "Can—tinue please."
He raised a brow but went on. "But immunity is not invincibility. It doesn't mean I can't die. My body can resist… a lot. But exhaustion, injury, trauma, suffocation—those still work."
Lucinda gasped loudly, placing both hands on her cheeks. "So you're like… DLC Lex Luthor. Unlockable features. Bonus stats. But no immortality patch."
Lex stared at her, grimacing. "Yes, Lucy. That is exactly the scientific term."
His deadpan tone should've eased her nerves. It didn't. Before she could reply, Lex quietly slipped off his polished, black tictac shoes and set them neatly beside him, socked toes curling against the cold floor with a soft exhale.
Lucinda blinked. "Won't you get colder without them?" she asked.
"They make me uncomfortable," Lex said simply, as though stating a universal truth. "I'd rather die of hypothermia than wear those all day."
Lucinda stared at him. "Oh? But you always wear those. Didn't you get used to it yet?"
Lex took a small breath, and for the first time since the chaos started, he allowed himself to relax into the wall behind him. His voice softened.
"Well," he began, turning slightly toward her, "since you told me a part of your secret, I'll share one of mine."
Lucinda perked up immediately, scooting closer without realizing it. Compared to Lex, she looked like a small bundled-up sparrow edging toward a lion for gossip.
"Go on, Mr. Luthor, sir. I need the tea," she whispered, eyes glittering in anticipation.
Lex huffed a quiet laugh. "I'm assuming 'tea' means a secret," his eyes lifted to the dim emergency light overhead, casting blue shadows across his face — the kind of light that made him look fragile and strong at the same time.
"I only wear the suit, the tie, the shoes… because they match my father's expectations," Lex said. "It's been that way since I was a child. Even now, when I'm trying to escape his… shadow, I suppose, that habit still clings to me."
Lucinda leaned back a little. That hit her unexpectedly hard.
She knew this man's story. She had watched it play out, episode by episode — the fragile attempts at independence, the crushing weight of Lionel's manipulation, the slow corrosion of friendship and trust. But she had never seen this.
And Clark. Poor, well-meaning, heroic Clark. Lex had idolized him — brother, savior, missing piece. And Clark had wanted to protect him. But Clark's protection, his silence, had only deepened Lex's obsession. The secrecy had become a wound that never healed, one Lex would later wrap in bitterness and fear.
This Lex — this gentle, tired, surprisingly soft man beside her — would disappear.
"But… what if I can stop it," she thought, the idea striking so suddenly she didn't notice her breath hitching.
"Lucy?" Lex's voice snapped her back. "Are you alright?"
She blinked — and only then felt the wetness on her cheeks.She was crying.
Lex's worry sharpened. "Are you crying?"
"Oh darn—" Lucinda laughed weakly and wiped her face with both palms. "I think I started missing my dad," a lie, of course. But safer than the truth.
Lex studied her for a beat. "Judging from your personality," he said lightly, "I doubt your father is as twisted as mine."
"He's not," Lucinda nodded. "I was actually born wealthy in my year and—"
She stopped when Lex stared at her as if she'd just confessed to being an undercover alien spy.
"Oh, don't feel bad that you made me a housemaid," she added arrogantly.
Lex waved a hand. "It's not that. I just… understand now why you're so bad at cleaning."
Lucinda's lips twitched. "Anyway—" she rolled her eyes, "both my parents are business people. They're barely home. But they always call to check on me, always apologize for not being around. They're good people. Kind people."
Lex turned his gaze forward, something unreadable flickering across his face. "And how exactly do you plan on getting home? Should we start building a time machine in here?"
"Oh Mr. Luthor, sir," Lucinda sighed dramatically. "I may be rich, but I'm incredibly stupid when it comes to machines. I have no idea how that works."
Lex smirked — a proud, arrogant, Lex kind of smirk. "Well, maybe the reason you teleported into my home is because I'm the only one who can help you. There's nothing money can't solve."
Lucinda stared at him. He already knew she wasn't from here. He already suspected she had more secrets. And Lex Luthor was a man who chased obsessions with surgical precision.
What if she gave him a new one? What if she shifted his fixation away from Clark… to her?
"Lucy?" Lex waved a hand in front of her. "What do you say?"
Lucinda felt her soul mentally glitch. Screenshotted. Saved to gallery.
She had promised she wouldn't ruin the plot. But she also didn't choose to be dragged into this show. The storyline was already going off the rails. White Kryptonite wasn't even canon in Smallville. Something — someone — had shoved her here.
So maybe… maybe the story wanted her here.
"Perhaps," she said, nodding slowly. "Perhaps we can do that, Mr. Luthor, sir."
Lex's smile bloomed — warm, charming, devastating. "Call me Lex," he said, extending a hand. "From now on… we're business partners."
Lucinda blinked. "Business?"
"Yep." Lex took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's a deal."