Chapter 10: Lex Luthor's Curiosity
The Talon was a construction zone.
Plastic sheeting covered the old theater seats. Sawdust drifted through air thick with the smell of fresh paint and stripped wood. Workers moved between scaffolding, carrying lumber and copper pipes, transforming what had been a failing movie house into something new.
A coffee shop. Lana's coffee shop. Or it will be.
I'd come to see the renovation progress—partly curiosity, partly reconnaissance. The Talon would become a social hub, a place where Smallville's various circles intersected. Knowing its layout mattered.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
The voice came from behind me. Smooth, cultured, with an undertone of amusement that immediately set my nerves on edge.
I turned.
Lex Luthor stood three feet away, hands in the pockets of a coat that probably cost more than my apartment's annual rent. His bald head gleamed under the construction lights. His eyes—sharp, assessing—cataloged me in the span of a heartbeat.
"The transformation," he continued, gesturing at the chaos around us. "From obsolete entertainment venue to community gathering space. I find the metaphor appealing."
[ALERT: HIGH-VALUE TARGET DETECTED. LEX LUTHOR. RECOMMEND: CAUTION.]
No kidding, System.
"Mr. Luthor." I kept my voice neutral. "I didn't know you were involved with this project."
"I provided some... seed funding." His smile was pleasant and revealed nothing. "And please, call me Lex. 'Mr. Luthor' is my father."
The way he said father carried enough weight to sink a ship.
"Lex, then." I stuck out my hand. "Cole Harrison."
His grip was firm, practiced. The handshake of someone who'd learned its importance in boardrooms and back rooms.
"I know who you are, Cole." He released my hand, still smiling. "The new student Clark Kent's been spending time with. The one who happened to be nearby during both the Arkin incident and the fire at school."
He's been watching. Of course he's been watching.
"Small town," I said. "Everyone ends up nearby eventually."
"True." Lex's eyes didn't waver. "Still. Twice is a coincidence. Three times would be a pattern." He gestured toward the door. "Do you have time for coffee? I'd like to learn more about Smallville's most interesting new resident."
Every instinct screamed caution. Lex Luthor was dangerous—not in the meteor freak sense, but in ways that mattered just as much. He was brilliant, ambitious, and pathologically curious. Getting close to him was playing with fire.
But refusing would be worse. It would mark me as someone with something to hide.
"Sure," I said. "I could use a cup."
Luthor Mansion was obscene.
Not ugly—beautiful, actually, in a Gothic European way that had no business existing in Kansas. But obscene in its excess. The drive alone took five minutes. The foyer could have fit my entire apartment building.
Lex led me through corridors lined with art that belonged in museums, past doors that hinted at rooms I couldn't imagine needing. Finally, we reached his study—a space of dark wood, leather furniture, and shelves crammed with books that looked actually read rather than decorative.
"Please, sit." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "How do you take your coffee?"
"Black."
His eyebrow rose slightly—approval, maybe, or just surprise.
"A man of simple tastes. I respect that."
The coffee arrived moments later, delivered by a servant who appeared and vanished like a ghost. I took a sip and nearly groaned.
This is the best coffee I've ever tasted.
I kept my expression neutral. Lex noticed anyway.
"The beans are from a small farm in Ethiopia I acquired last year." His smile was knowing. "Good coffee is one of life's simple pleasures. Why settle for less when you don't have to?"
"Most people have to."
"Most people don't have options." Lex settled into his own chair, cradling his cup. "But we're not here to discuss economics. Tell me about yourself, Cole. What brings someone to Smallville in the middle of a school year?"
I'd rehearsed this story a dozen times. It came out smooth, practiced.
"My parents died. Car accident. I inherited enough to cover living expenses until graduation. Smallville was... available."
"My condolences." The words were automatic but not insincere. "Losing parents young shapes a person. I lost my mother when I was thirteen. It changes how you see the world."
Lillian Luthor. Dead from a wasting illness while Lionel was too busy building an empire to notice. I know your history, Lex. Better than you'd like.
"I'm sorry," I said. "That must have been difficult."
"It was formative." He took a slow sip of coffee. "Smallville has been... formative for me as well. My father exiled me here to run the fertilizer plant. A punishment disguised as an opportunity. But I've found the town has its own appeal."
"The meteor weirdness?"
Lex's eyes sharpened.
"You've noticed."
"Hard not to." I shrugged, playing casual. "Bug-men. Fire-throwing coaches. The Wall of Weird at the school paper. Something in this town isn't normal."
"No," Lex agreed softly. "It isn't." He set down his cup, leaned forward. "Cole, I'm going to be direct. I collect interesting people. Smallville has more than its share, and you've caught my attention. I run an internship program for exceptional students—flexible hours, excellent compensation, access to resources most teenagers can't imagine."
The recruitment begins. Right on schedule.
"What would I be doing?"
"Research, primarily. Analysis. I have projects that benefit from fresh perspectives." His smile was charming, almost boyish. "No pressure to decide now. Just know the offer exists. I think we could help each other, Cole."
[WARNING: RECRUITMENT ATTEMPT. ACCEPT WITH CAUTION OR DECLINE.]
I let the silence stretch. Made him wait.
"I'll think about it," I said finally. "But I should be honest—I'm not looking for a patron. I've learned to be self-sufficient."
"A valuable trait." Lex didn't seem offended. If anything, his interest deepened. "Take your time. My door is always open."
We talked for another hour—safer topics, mostly. Books. Music. The peculiarities of small-town life versus city existence. Lex was charming, intelligent, and genuinely engaging. I could see how Clark had been drawn to him in the early days, before the friendship curdled into something toxic.
He's not a monster yet. Just a man with too much power and not enough wisdom. The tragedy is, he could have been a hero.
When I finally stood to leave, Lex walked me to the door himself.
"I enjoyed this, Cole. We should do it again."
"Maybe we will."
His handshake was the same as before—firm, practiced. But there was something new in his eyes. Recognition, perhaps. The acknowledgment of a potential equal.
Or a potential threat. With Lex, the line is thin.
The walk back to town took an hour. I needed the time to think.
Lex Luthor had noticed me. That was dangerous, but it was also inevitable—I'd been too visible, too present at too many incidents. The question now was how to manage his attention without either alienating him or getting pulled into his orbit.
[STRATEGIC ASSESSMENT: LEX LUTHOR REPRESENTS BOTH THREAT AND OPPORTUNITY. RECOMMEND: MAINTAIN DISTANCE WHILE PRESERVING CORDIALITY.]
Thanks, System. I figured that out myself.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I enjoyed our conversation. —L.L.
I stared at the text for a long moment. He'd gotten my number somehow—probably not difficult for someone with his resources. The message was friendly but carried an implicit reminder: I know how to find you.
I pocketed the phone without replying.
The Luthor Mansion grew smaller in my rearview as I walked. But I could still feel Lex's attention like a weight on my shoulders—curious, calculating, patient.
The game is on. And I'm playing against someone who's never learned to lose.
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