Meteor Freak
Episode 3: Heatwave Part 2
Date: Monday, August 15, 2011.
Location: Smallville High School, Smallville, Kansas
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes at Smallville High, Tyson knew what he wanted to do after school.
Test the powers he gained from Jeremy Creek and Greg Arkin.
He headed towards the school's weight room. Pushing open the heavy door, the familiar scent of old sweat and metal greeted him. The room was empty but orderly, with weights neatly racked. Perfect for his purposes. Tyson approached the bench press, his eyes scanning the array of weight plates nearby. He loaded the barbell with 135 pounds, lay back on the bench, gripped the cold metal bar, and pushed. The weight felt like nothing more than a feather in his hands as he completed ten quick repetitions.
Unsatisfied, Tyson added two more plates, bringing the total to 225 pounds. Again, positioning himself on the bench, he began to lift as if going through the motions without any resistance. Curious, he decided to push further. Two more plates were loaded onto each side, raising the weight to a hefty 315 pounds. This weight would challenge the most muscular athletes at Smallville High. Yet, as Tyson gripped the bar and pressed upward, he found it as manageable as the lighter weights.
Tyson racked his weights, excited yet somewhat frustrated that he couldn't gauge his full strength. It was clear that using the weight room wouldn't suffice. He was beyond normal human levels of power, but how far beyond? The question nagged at him as he contemplated his next move.
Unbeknownst to Tyson, Coach Walt sat in his office. Through the large window overlooking the weight room, he could clearly see Tyson's impressive display of strength. The coach watched, slack-jawed, as the young man effortlessly repped out three plates on the bench press. Tyson lifted more weight than any of his linemen, yet he was leanly built, like a safety. He leaned forward in his chair, unable to tear his gaze away from the spectacle before him. The possibilities of what such a player could do on the field were enticing.
After meeting with that same boy and Whitney Fordman earlier that day, Principal Kwan delivered some troubling news. A group of seven of his football players were facing suspension for cheating. It left gaping holes in his roster.
The timing couldn't have been worse, with Whitney and two of his linemen facing disciplinary action for the scarecrow incident. But now, as he watched Tyson's impressive strength, Coach Walt saw a potential solution to his problems.
Tyson left the weight room, making his way towards the track. A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass but with an undertone of manure from the nearby farms, making it slightly unpleasant. He glanced around, confirming that the stadium and track were empty. No teams had emerged for their after-school practices yet, granting him a window of opportunity to test his speed without prying eyes.
Approaching the starting line, he again looked around to ensure he was alone before leaning forward.
In a burst of movement, Tyson took off down the track. His legs pumped furiously, eating up the distance with each powerful stride. The wind whipped past his face as he accelerated. Tyson marveled at the sensation of speed, feeling as though barely touching the ground. Rounding the first curve, he realized he had no stopwatch, leaving him no way to tell his speed. Still, he pushed on, intending to gain a sense of his capabilities.
Unbeknownst to Tyson, Coach Walt stood at his office window, his eyes fixed on the lone figure tearing around the track. The coach's jaw dropped as he watched Tyson's blistering pace. Walt could tell that what he was witnessing was extraordinary. Tyson completed his first lap and showed no signs of slowing down. His breathing remained steady, his form perfect as he continued to sprint. Coach Walt shook his head in disbelief. The speed was beyond anything he had seen in his years of coaching. As Tyson began his second lap, Coach Walt realized that the young man's speed was enough to make him a star receiver or running back. Combined with his strength, Tyson could be a game-changing addition to the football team.
As Tyson rounded the track for a fourth time, he still hadn't felt the effects of his exertion and was hardly pushing his limits. He felt like he was out on a warmup jog but knew his pace was staggering.
Coach Walt leaned closer to the window. He watched as Tyson seemed to find an extra gear, somehow increasing his already impressive speed for the final lap.
Tyson crossed the finish line and gradually slowed to a stop. Despite the intensity of his workout, he felt surprisingly good.
From his vantage point, Coach Walt saw Tyson's quick recovery. Most athletes would be gasping for air, but he wasn't, adding to the coach's growing fascination with the young man's potential. Stepping back from the window, he made up his mind.
He had to get Tyson on the football team.
With the recent disciplinary issues threatening their season, this boy's unexpected abilities could be key.
As Tyson walked back into the school, he noticed a figure emerging from the building.
"Hey there, son," Coach Walt called out as he approached. "That was some impressive running I just saw."
Tyson didn't realize anyone was watching his display. "Oh, thanks, Coach," he replied casually. I'm just getting in a bit of exercise."
"I ran track at my last school," he added, trying to downplay his performance.
"A little exercise? Son, what I just saw was nothing short of extraordinary. Have you ever considered playing football?"
Given his unusual circumstances and his short time in this world, Tyson had not given much thought to extracurricular activities. However, his bank account held tens of billions of dollars.
What was the point of sports?
He could afford college without needing a scholarship. He already earned enough attention at school that he didn't need the popularity boost. Though he could likely succeed on the field with his new strength and speed, what would be the end goal?
"I hadn't thought about it," he admitted.
"Well, you should," Coach Walt pressed. "With speed like that, you could be a star on the field. And I couldn't help but notice your performance in the weight room earlier. You've got quite the combination of strength and speed."
"I appreciate the offer, Coach, but I'm not sure football is for me," he said.
Coach Walt wasn't ready to give up. "Listen, I understand you're new here and might not be looking to jump into anything. But I'm opening a spot for you on this team."
"I'll think about it, Coach," he said, hoping to end the discussion.
Coach Walt clapped a hand on Tyson's shoulder. "That's good, son. Just give it some thought. I'll swing by your last-period class tomorrow and get you set up with some pads and a helmet."
As Coach Walt turned to leave, Tyson narrowed his eyes. He had come out to the track to test his abilities, but in doing so, he had inadvertently drawn attention to himself. He didn't care for football, but it wasn't like he had many other things to do after school. His only other priority was finding a place to live that wasn't a hotel, but he wasn't in a rush to buy a house despite it seemingly being the only obstacle between him and Kara.
Coach Walt strode back to his office. As he entered, he glanced at the clock. There was still some time before practice started, and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it. Making his way to the small room adjacent to his office, where the sauna was located, he prepared the sauna for use. He adjusted the temperature controls, ensuring it would reach the perfect level of heat. Next, he turned his attention to the brazier, a metal container for burning coals. He carefully arranged a layer of coal inside it, ensuring it was evenly distributed. Then, for luck, he placed a few pieces of the local green meteor rocks among the coals in the brazier and then set it alight. As the coals began to heat up, he could already see a faint green tinge to the smoke rising from the container. Satisfied with his preparation, Coach Walt stripped down to a towel and entered the sauna.
The heat enveloped him immediately, forming beads of sweat on his skin. He settled onto one of the wooden benches, leaning back and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. The air was thick with steam, but there was an underlying sharpness.
As he sat there, breathing in the green-tinged vapor, Coach Walt's thoughts drifted to his team's challenges. The suspensions left holes in his lineup, but things were looking up after adding Tyson and Clark Kent to the roster. With those two on the field, they might just have a chance to sneak past this week's game with a win. The more he breathed in the vapor, the clearer his thoughts became. He could see it all playing out in his mind's eye. Kent's size to break through the defensive line, followed by Tyson's speed outrunning their opponents. It was a combination that could turn the tide of any game.
Coach Walt's muscles relaxed as the heat and the strange energy from the meteor rocks seeped into his body. He felt invigorated, his earlier fatigue melting away like the sweat dripping down his back. In this state, he could think more clearly and strategize more effectively. If he could keep Tyson and Kent on the team and get them to reach their full potential, they could be the key to salvaging this season. And once his other players came off suspension, combining their talents with these new additions... they'd be unstoppable.
After a string of years of coming close but never quite clinching a championship, this could be their year. All he needed to do was convince Tyson to join the team and make sure Kent committed despite his father.
As he sat there, surrounded by the steam and the faint green glow, Coach Walt began to formulate his plan. He'd need to be careful with Kent. The boy seemed reluctant, but Walt was confident he could win him over. Once Clark got a taste of what it was like to be part of the team, Walt was sure he'd be hooked. With Tyson, Walt would need to find a way to push him, to get him to tap into that potential he'd glimpsed and utilize it on the field.
The coach took another deep breath, feeling the strange energy coursing through him. This was just another chance to prove why he was the most successful coach in Smallville High's history.
The heat in the sauna intensified, and Coach Walt could feel the sweat pouring off him now. He glanced at the small clock mounted on the sauna wall. There was still some time left before he needed to head out to the field. He closed his eyes again. As he sat there, surrounded by heat and strange energy, Coach Walt felt more confident than ever. He could feel the passionate fire within him, ready to mold this team into champions. And nothing, he decided, was going to stand in his way.
— Meteor Freak —
Clark came in from outside, a concerned look on his face. Martha looked up from the kitchen counter. "Hi, Clark."
Jonathan, glass in hand, turned and glanced at his son.
"How was school?" Martha asked.
Clark's voice was dry. "It was different."
Jonathan poured two glasses of lemonade. "Do we like different?"
"There was a fire during biology class," Clark said. Martha's eyes widened with concern as he continued. "It's OK, nobody was hurt," Clark assured them. "Tyson stopped it before it spread."
Martha's face brightened. "Well, good on him."
Clark leaned against the sink. "Except I think I started it."
Jonathan set down the pitcher, looking displeased. "Wait, you wanna explain that? Please?"
"I started to feel hot. And my eyes started to burn. All of a sudden, the spot I was staring at burst into flames."
"Just by looking at it?" Martha asked, amazed.
Clark's agitation grew. "Hello? Hi, I'm Clark, I'm the kid who can lift up tractors and run to school in two seconds. If that's not enough, Tyson noticed it was me."
He stomped off to the edge of the kitchen, turning his back on his parents.
Jonathan moved to stand behind Clark. "Son... hang on just a second. What exactly was going on when this happened?"
"We had just met our new biology teacher, and we were watching a film," Clark explained.
Martha's brow furrowed. "An educational film?"
"A sex educational film," Clark clarified.
Martha and Jonathan stared at Clark, realization dawning on their faces. Clark, on the other hand, looked supremely embarrassed. He went back to the table, grabbing a glass of lemonade.
Martha spoke delicately. "Uhh...Clark... it's possible that whatever's happened has some sort of... hormonal... connection..."
"Yes," Jonathan quickly agreed.
As Martha spoke, Clark drained the glass of lemonade in a single gulp, then turned to find his parents staring at him with concern. "Great! So I'm maturing into a firestarter?"
"No, son.. look... ummm..." Jonathan began. Martha looked at him encouragingly as he continued. "we've... just gotta get a handle on this thing, like we've gotten a handle on all your other abilities."
Clark's frustration didn't abate. "Except all my other abilities didn't involve things bursting into flames!"
Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, realizing Clark was right. Martha tried to soothe him. "All the more reason for you to give it some time. Just... uh.. you'll... have to stay close to home, and, uh... and then we'll figure it out."
Clark sighed, nodding in agreement, then stopped as he remembered something.
"I can't," he said. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out Lex's wedding invitation, handing it to Martha.
Martha took the card. "Why? What's this?"
Clark shook his head. "You're not gonna believe it..."
Martha opened the invitation, her eyes widening as she read its contents. "Lex is getting married?" she asked disbelieving.
Jonathan moved closer, peering over Martha's shoulder at the invitation. "To whom?"
"Desiree Atkins. Our new biology teacher."
Martha's eyebrows shot up. "The one who was showing the... educational film?"
Clark nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah, that's her."
"Clark," Martha began gently, "I know Lex is your friend, but don't you think this is a bit... rushed?"
"Exactly! That's why I can't stay home. I need to talk to Lex, try to make him see reason."
Jonathan's face hardened. "Now, hold on a minute, son. We just talked about you needing to stay close to home until we figure out this new... development."
Martha placed a comforting hand on Clark's arm. "Sweetie, we need to prioritize your safety and the safety of others. If you can't control this new ability, you could accidentally hurt someone."
Jonathan placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Just remember, son, we're here to help you. Whatever's going on with this new ability, we'll figure it out together."
— Meteor Freak —
The sun had set, and the streetlights kicked on, lighting up Smallville's main street as Tyson, Chloe, and Pete entered the Beanery. The cozy cafe buzzed with the chatter of patrons and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Tyson was finishing his story as they walked in. "I was walking off the track when Coach Walt asked me to join the football team. I tried gently brushing him off, but he ignored me and declared he'd be fitting me for pads tomorrow."
"The audacity of that man. After what his players did to you, to try forcibly recruiting you to his team." Chloe rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, next I'm gonna be joining the pompom brigade."
Lana appeared behind them, wearing a green Beanery apron. "I hear there's a spot open."
Tyson blinked in surprise. "Lana, you work here?"
Chloe's eyebrows shot up. "W-what is this? Some cheerleading charity, like 'be a waitress for a night' type thing?"
Lana chuckled. "Yes, except for the cheerleading and charity parts, and tips are always appreciated."
"So you're a waitress for real?" Pete asked.
"Even got the perky name tag to prove it," Lana quipped, tapping the plastic rectangle pinned to her apron.
"First day?"
"Ever," Lana confirmed with a nod. She gestured to her outfit. "Strict dress code 'no jewelry' and no open-toed shoes."
Tyson's eyes took her in. "You look the part."
Lana's smile faltered slightly. "Now, if I could only tell the difference between a half-caf, decaf, and a non-fat latte."
"In that case, I'll have a regular coffee," Chloe said, sliding into a booth.
Pete followed suit. "Hey, make that three."
Lana asked, "No Clark?"
"Think he's stuck at the farm doing chores. Uh. Its not so hot when the sun goes down, otherwise its brutal." Tyson said, trying to cover for him.
As Chloe and Pete settled into their seats, Lana set her tray on the table, momentarily distracted by another customer's request. Tyson noticed the forgotten tray and grabbed it. "Be right back," he told his friends before returning it.
"Hey, Lana, you forgot this," Tyson said, offering the tray.
Lana's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Thanks, that's been happening a lot today."
"First days are always rough," Tyson offered sympathetically. "Remember mine? Ended up walking through town shirtless." He paused, lowering his voice. "You sure you're okay after what happened this weekend? I mean, you got kidnapped, quit cheerleading, and got a job. I want to make sure there's not something else going on."
"I'm okay. Thanks to you… You almost sound disappointed that I quit cheerleading."
Tyson shrugged. "Not my business. Coach Walt approached me today to recruit me for the football team. Showing off for you would've been one of the few perks."
Lana smiled. "You walked me home after the dance like a gentleman, and you saved me from my stalker-kidnapper. You'll have to find another way to impress me next that isn't football," she said lightly.
"My mom was a cheerleader, and so was my aunt. I figured it was time to break the vicious cycle." She glanced around the bustling cafe. "I have four shifts a week here. You can stop by anytime you like. If you want to see me more often, I mean."
Before Tyson could respond, the head waitress's sharp voice cut through their conversation. "Lana, table 3 has been waiting for their drinks for 5 minutes. If they go cold, it's coming out of your tips."
"Right, sorry."
The head waitress frowned. "Don't be sorry, just be faster."
As Lana prepared to dash off, Tyson leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, I'll leave a good tip to make up for whatever she takes."
Lana smiled gratefully. "You don't have to do that. I need to learn. I'll figure this out."
Returning to his friends, Tyson slid into the booth beside Pete. Chloe asked, "So, what's the scoop? Lana Lang, former cheerleader turned waitress extraordinaire?"
Pete chuckled. "Man, I never thought I'd see the day. Lana always seemed so perfect, you know? Like she had it all figured out."
"Maybe that's the problem. Sometimes, figuring it out means you're just following someone else's plan."
Chloe nodded thoughtfully. "True. But still, it's a pretty big change. I wonder what Whitney thinks about all this."
As if on cue, the bell above the Beanery's door chimed, and Whitney Fordman stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Lana as she balanced a tray of steaming mugs. Tyson watched as Whitney approached her, their conversation too quiet to overhear. Lana's posture stiffened, and she smiled as she spoke to her boyfriend or ex-boyfriend.
Tyson wasn't sure of their relationship status.
"Looks like someone's not too happy with Lana's career change," Pete observed.
Chloe snorted. "Well, it doesn't exactly fit the 'football star and cheerleader' cliché, does it?"
Whitney's face clouded with disappointment as he turned away from Lana. His shoulders slumped slightly. He headed to the table where some teammates sat. The jocks greeted him with nods and fist bumps. Tyson, Chloe, and Pete watched the scene unfold from their booth. They weren't close enough to hear the entire conversation, but Whitney's voice carried, allowing them to catch snippets.
"Coach needs to see us on the field right now," he said.
The jocks exchanged confused glances. One of them, Mike, a burly linebacker, checked his watch. "Now? It's almost eight."
"Yeah, I know. But Coach was pretty clear. Said it couldn't wait."
Another player, Trevor, groaned. "Man, I just ordered a burger. Can't it wait until tomorrow's practice?"
"No can do. Coach sounded serious. We need to move."
The group grumbled but began to gather their things. As they stood up, Lana approached with a tray of drinks.
Back at their booth, Chloe leaned in, her reporter's instincts kicking into high gear. "Okay, is it just me, or was that weird?"
Pete agreed, "Yeah, since when does Coach Walt call emergency meetings this late?"
As they speculated, Lana approached their table, her smile back in place despite the hint of worry in her eyes. "Sorry about the wait, guys. Three regular coffees," Lana announced. She set them down with only a slight wobble.
As Lana returned to her duties, the trio continued their conversation. Chloe sipped her coffee for a minute, then grabbed her coat. She announced, "I'll see you tomorrow. I want to go see what the team is up to." She rushed out, passing Lana, who was holding a tray of drinks.
Lana glanced towards Chloe's retreating figure, momentarily distracted. She didn't notice a man approaching from the other direction. As she turned, she collided with him, the tray of drinks slipping from her grasp and crashing to the floor. Sounds of shattering mugs filled the air, followed by a smattering of applause from amused customers.
Tyson grabbed the napkin container from a nearby table. He then moved to Lana's side and knelt to help her clean up the mess.
"Thanks," Lana said gratefully, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
She quickly gathered the larger pieces of broken ceramics while he mopped the spilled drinks. As they finished cleaning, she rushed to the counter to replace the dropped coffees. He watched as she brought it to a table where Lex Luthor sat, his attention focused on a laptop in front of him. Curious, Tyson approached.
Lex looked up. "Lana. What happened? Did Nell put you out on the street?"
"No. I decided to join the workforce. I spent most of my savings going to France this summer, and I'm not sure cheer is for me anymore."
"Good for you," Lex replied, "I'm sure you'll be the employee of the month in no time." He closed the file he had been studying.
Lana's lips quirked into a self-deprecating smile. "Right now, I hold the record for most dishes broken in a single day."
Lex chuckled. "Next time, I'll ask for my cappuccino in a styrofoam cup." His eyes twinkled with amusement as Lana turned away to get another order. His gaze then fell on Tyson. "Rumor has it you'll be joining the football team."
He sat down across from Lex and asked, "How'd you hear about that?"
"Coach told some of the players, and they told their friends, and Kara overheard."
Tyson sighed. "I told the coach I wasn't interested, and he didn't take no for an answer. He acknowledged what I said, promptly ignored it, and told me he'd see me after school tomorrow."
"Ah, one of those types," Lex nodded in understanding. "I deal with that a lot. Do you know what character trait is most indicative of corporate success?"
Tyson considered for a moment before guessing, "Charisma?"
"Good guess," Lex said but shook his head. "Charisma doesn't hurt, but no. Number one is intelligence." He paused before adding, "Number two is more interesting, though. Disagreableness."
Tyson's face scrunched up in confusion. "Really?"
"It's easier to push your agenda, sell your product, or achieve your goals when you don't let people tell you no," Lex explained. "Getting what you want is the path to success. Aside from being smart enough to find a better path."
As Tyson mulled over Lex's words, he asked, "What are you working on? Wedding planning?"
Lex groaned, his earlier amusement fading. "If only. I'm trying to figure out which poor bastards should get the ax. My father wants me to cut twenty percent of my workforce."
"Any way around it?" Tyson asked.
"Once my father has made his mind up, he's not easy to turn around."
Lana reappeared, setting drinks down on the table. "If it makes you guys feel any better, you should have seen the look on my aunt's face when I took this job, not that I was eavesdropping or anything." She perched herself on the arm of Tyson's chair, her hip brushing against him. Tyson glanced up at her, surprised by the contact. He let his arm settle around her waist. Lana glanced down at him briefly but didn't mention it and seemed comfortable with his touch.
"I guess we are in the same boat," Tyson mused.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you and me. Lana at least stood her ground and did what she wanted. I caved." He lifted his coffee mug in a salute. "Lana, you have inspired me."
Tyson grinned. "Me too. I'm going to become a rebel just like you."
Lana laughed. "You've been here less than a week, and you're already the king of standing up to jocks, Tyson. But, I suppose now you're becoming one of them…"
Tyson interrupted, "Maybe I'm just infiltrating to take them down for good from the inside."
Lana laughed. "In that case, long live the revolution."
"Cheers," Lex said as he sipped his drink. Lowering the mug, a dollop of whipped cream clung to his nose.
"How is it?" Lana asked expectantly.
"It's perfect."
"Okay," she nodded, walking away to tend to other customers.
Tyson turned to Lexs. "Is that what you ordered?"
"Not even close," Lex replied dryly.
Tyson's gaze fell on the drinks Lana had left. "And these drinks she brought?"
Lex shrugged. "Not mine. Thought they were yours."
Tyson rolled his eyes and stood up, gathering the drinks to return them to Lana. Before he left, he turned back to Lex. "Maybe you should use that advice you gave me. If disagreeableness and intelligence are the paths to corporate success, use them. Disagree with your father and find a smarter way to do things."
Lex's expression shifted, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He glanced back at his spreadsheets. "Maybe I will."
Tyson nodded, satisfied, and returned the drinks to Lana, who thanked him with a grateful smile before rushing to deliver them to the correct table. He then went to the counter, pulled out his black card to settle the tab for himself, Pete, and Chloe, and added a generous $100 tip. With his black card, it wasn't as if money was an issue. As he stepped out of the Beanery, the clock on his phone read 8:30 PM. With nothing else planned for the evening, Tyson decided to head towards Smallville High, wondering if Chloe might still be at the Torch.
His stroll abruptly halted when he noticed a series of flashing lights emanating from the direction of the football field. He changed course, moving toward the source of the commotion. As he approached the field, Tyson spotted a familiar figure perched at the top of the bleachers. Chloe hid poorly with her camera trained on the scene below. Tyson effortlessly scaled the bleachers using his agility, landing silently beside her.
"What are you recording?" he whispered, leaning in close.
Chloe jumped, barely stifling a scream. She whipped around, eyes wide with shock. "Don't do that!" she whisper-yelled, her hand covering her mouth. Tyson raised his hands in apology, but his sheepish grin showed he wasn't remorseful of his sneaking.
She pointed at the field urgently. "Look."
Coach Walt paced angrily below and berated the suspended players gathered before him. But what truly caught Tyson's attention was the eerie, glowing green aura that now surrounded the coach. The aura hadn't been there when he and the coach spoke after school. In the intervening hours, something must have happened to grant Coach Walt powers. As the older man's anger intensified, the sprinklers began to malfunction. Instead of spraying water, they shot out jets of fire, illuminating the night with bursts of orange flame.
"This is Wall of Weird material," Chloe muttered, her camera clicking as she captured the scene. The players huddled together, trying to avoid the unpredictable bursts of fire. "This seems dangerous," Chloe said, lowering her camera and turning to Tyson concerned. "What should we do?"
Tyson weighed their options. They could call for help, but who would believe them? And by the time anyone arrived, the evidence might be gone. He thought about his newfound abilities, wondering if he could intervene without revealing himself. As he watched Coach Walt gesticulate, another burst of flame erupted from a sprinkler. An idea began to form in his mind.
"Maybe I will join the football team after all," he said.
Chloe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? Are you crazy? Did you not just see the fire-breathing sprinklers?"
Tyson shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the scene below. "Think about it. If I'm on the team, I'll have a front-row seat. We could figure out what's causing this, maybe even stop it before someone gets hurt."
Chloe bit her lip, considering his words. "I don't know, Tyson. It could be dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with here."
"But if I'm on the inside, we might have a chance to find out. Plus, it'll give me a legitimate reason to watch Coach Walt and the team."
"You know, that's not a bad idea. It would give us access we wouldn't have otherwise. And having an inside source on the football team could lead to some interesting stories for the Torch."
Tyson chuckled. "Always the reporter, huh?"
"You know it. But seriously, be careful. We're dealing with more than just high school drama here."
As they watched, Coach Walt's tirade began to wind down. The flames from the sprinklers sputtered and died out, leaving the field in eerie darkness. The players, looking shaken, began to disperse.
"We should go," Chloe whispered, packing up her camera. "Before someone spots us."
— Meteor Freak —
Tyson stood on the football field. His mind wandered as Coach Walt barked instructions for another drill. The late afternoon sun beat down on the players, their helmets and pads glistening with sweat. Tyson found himself more interested in the smattering of people sitting in the stands than learning the plays Coach Walt seemed passionate about.
Among them was Lana Lang. Tyson wasn't sure why she was in the stands since she was no longer on the cheer squad, but her gaze seemed to move between Tyson and one of the assistant coaches.
Kara, surprisingly, also sat alone in the corner, watching him intently. Their eyes met across the distance.
"Tyson! Pay attention!" Coach Walt's voice boomed across the field.
Tyson adjusted his helmet and tried to look engaged. He glanced around at his teammates, most of whom seemed equally bored. There was more standing around and listening to Coach Walt than actual physical activity. As he half-heartedly jogged through a play, Tyson noticed a figure approaching from the parking lot. It was Trevor, one of the suspended players who hadn't shown up to practice until now. Coach Walt immediately zeroed in on the newcomer, his eyes narrowing.
"Trevor!" Coach Walt called out in barely contained anger. "Wait over there." He pointed to a side entrance to the stadium. Then he turned to the assistant coach and ordered, "Coach Teague, during the next break, why don't we have Tyson do some eye-openers? Maybe it will help him focus a bit."
Tyson watched as Coach Walt strode toward Trevor. The coach's body language set off alarm bells. Reaching Trevor, he grabbed the boy's arm roughly, and smoke rose from where the coach's hand made contact.
"Aah! Coach!" Trevor cried out in pain.
"Talking to the school newspaper, Trevor? I thought you were brighter than that."
Trevor fell to his knees in agony as Coach Walt maintained his burning grip. "Coach! I didn't say anything. You gotta believe me! She was at the field last night! She's got a picture of us in the sprinklers!"
"All right," Walt said, releasing Trevor's arm. "Go home. I'll take care of this."
Trevor remained on the ground, cradling his injured arm as the coach walked away. The assistant coach approached Tyson, bringing his attention back to the field when he shouted, "Tyson, still daydreaming! It's time for some eye-openers."
"Coach, I don't even know what that is."
Coach Teague, a college-aged handsome man with stylish short brown hair, smirked. "You're going to find out. And you won't forget it."
Coach Teague lined up the defensive line and Whitney on one side of a row of pads spaced on the ground. "Pick a gap, and the defense knows what to do." He tossed Tyson a ball.
Tyson shrugged and tucked the ball into his elbow. He jogged forward and turned into the third gap between pads. The defender had been shuffling, following Tyson. As he turned into the gap, the lineman wrapped him up, charging forward and forcing him backward before depositing him on the ground.
Tyson was unhurt, but he started laughing. "Okay, I see how it is. Message received."
Kara and Lana, sitting separately in the stands, both watched intently as Tyson lined up again and the next lineman stepped up. Tyson went through the drill again and was once more deposited on his ass. As he got up, he looked to the stands. Lana seemed slightly upset, while Kara raised an eyebrow. Tyson turned his head and winked at her, which Lana couldn't see from her angle.
Kara raised her arms, palm up, and gave him a look that said, 'Well?'
Coach Teague loudly said, "Apparently, you haven't learned from your mistakes. Focus on the field, not the stands. Line up again Tyson. Fordman, you're next."
Whitney lined up. The look in his eye promised a hard hit. He'd seen Tyson looking at Lana in the stands. But Tyson was unbothered by his glare. This time, Tyson jogged out, but when he picked a gap, and Whitney charged forward, he didn't hold back. He rammed into Whitney, hitting the quarterback hard enough to reverse his momentum. Whitney flew back, landing on his ass and banging the back of his helmet on the ground.
Tyson stepped over Whitney and looked down at him. He mockingly asked, "Is that right, coach? I think I'm starting to get how these drills are supposed to be done."
Coach Teague blew the whistle. "That's enough. Water break." He knelt next to Whitney, who was dazed on the ground. Whitney sat up and tried to stand, but he stumbled, falling back down. Teague pointed at one of the other players and said, "Go get the trainer. Fordman, stay down until you get looked at."
As the player ran off to fetch the trainer. Tyson jogged toward the water cooler but didn't stop.
Whitney was his distraction.
Sure, he was getting tired of Whitney's bullshit, but having the team fawning over their quarterback, freed him to check on Trevor, who still knelt off to the side of the stadium.
"You okay, man?"
Trevor looked up at Tyson, fear and pain evident in his eyes. Without a word, he scrambled to his feet and took off running, still clutching his burned arm.
Determined to find out more, Tyson headed into the school building. Walking down the hallway, he spotted Coach Walt standing outside the Torch office with his eyes closed in concentration.
Suddenly, a flame erupted from the newspaper office, followed by Chloe's terrified scream.
Tyson sprinted down the corridor. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He kicked open, the wood splintering under the force of his strength. Smoke billowed out into the hallway as he rushed inside. Inside, flames licked across the walls. Chloe was trapped inside, huddling under a desk, covering her face with her shirt.
Tyson rushed into the burning office. "I've got you," he said as he scooped Chloe up.
She clung to him tightly as he carried her bridal style out of the burning office and into the hallway. Her body trembled against his chest, and he could feel her rapid heartbeat. As they emerged from the smoke-filled room, Tyson glanced down the hall. Coach Walt was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you okay?" he asked, still holding Chloe close.
Chloe nodded, her voice shaky. "Yeah, I think so. Tyson, how did you..." but her words were cut off by violent coughing. Before she could continue asking her question, the fire alarm blared throughout the building.
The sprinklers kicked on, raining down on them. The sound of running footsteps and shouting voices filled the air as the few remaining students and teachers participating in various clubs began to evacuate to escape the fire and the water.
Tyson gently lowered Chloe, keeping a supportive arm around her waist. "We need to get out of here," he said, guiding her to the nearest exit.
As they made their way through the crowded hallways, Tyson's mind raced. He knew Coach Walt was behind the fire, but how could he prove it? And more importantly, how could he stop him before someone else got hurt?
Chloe leaned heavily against Tyson as they pushed through the doors and into the fresh air outside. "The Torch office caught fire," she explained, her voice still rough from the smoke. "If you hadn't been there..."
Tyson scanned the crowd that evacuated the building, looking for any sign of Coach Walt.
"How did you know I was in trouble?" Chloe asked, drawing Tyson's attention.
He hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I was in the hallway and heard you scream," he said, hoping it sounded convincing.
"Why weren't you at practice?"
Tyson hesitated. "I saw Coach Walt sneak away in the middle of drills. Something seemed off, so I followed him. I had a bad feeling," he said. "I trailed him, but then I heard you scream. I rushed in, and the whole place was already on fire."
"It spread so fast," Chloe said, "Unnaturally fast. And we both saw what Coach is capable of on the field." She looked up at Tyson, her eyes wide. "Do you think he started the fire?"
Tyson agreed, "It was him. That fire was no accident."
Chloe looked up at Tyson, her eyes filled with fear. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice still shaky from the smoke.
Tyson's expression hardened as he considered their options. "You stay here," he said firmly. "Get checked by the EMTs when they arrive. Let them check you and make sure you're okay after breathing in all that smoke." He glanced around, scanning the chaos unfolding around them. "I'll go tell Principal Kwan about Coach Walt."
"Shouldn't we tell the police?"
Tyson shook his head. "We can, but will they believe us? We're just a couple of kids, and it sounds unbelievable. But if it came from Kwan, it might carry more weight."
"Hate to say it, but you're right," Chloe admitted reluctantly. "Okay, I'll stay and get checked out."
He turned to head back into the building, but Chloe grabbed his arm. He looked down at her questioningly, and she urged him close as if she were going to tell him a secret. He leaned in, and she looked into his eyes. Her blonde hair clung to her face, darkened by the water from the sprinklers. Her green eyes sparkled with an intensity that caught Tyson off guard. Droplets of water traced paths down her cheeks. Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her petite frame.
She surged forward and kissed him, her lips soft and warm against his. Tyson was surprised, but he accepted and returned the kiss.
When she leaned back, Tyson smirked. "What about Pete? Do you have a thing for football players now? It's the uniform, isn't it?"
Chloe's cheeks flushed. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and admiration.
"You saved my life," she said, "You're my hero."
"Don't be so dramatic, Sullivan," he said lightly.
She mumbled, "Way to ruin the moment." Then loudly said, "Ugh. Just go. This is the last time I'll reward you for a good deed!"
Tyson laughed and threw her a wink before jogging back into the building.
Rounding a corner near Principal Kwan's office, Tyson skidded to a halt. Coach Walt stood in the middle of the hallway, his eyes closed and his face contorted in concentration. Tyson's gaze darted to Principal Kwan's office door just beyond the coach. With a sinking feeling, he realized Walt was going after the principal, too.
Thinking quickly, Tyson called, "Hey, coach, I need some help with some of these plays."
Walt's eyes snapped open, his face twisting with anger. "Tyson, get back on the field," he barked.
But Tyson kept approaching. Walt's eyes narrowed dangerously. The coach's hand shot out, gripping Tyson's arm tightly. "I said, get back on the field," he growled, his voice low and menacing. Tyson's arm began to burn and singe where Walt held him. "Fine. The locker room, then. I'll show you your place on this team."
Coach Walt dragged Tyson through the locker room and into his office. The smell of sweat and old equipment filled the air, mingling with the putrid scent of burned flesh from Tyson's arm. The coach slammed the door behind them, his face contorted with rage.
"Look, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you do not want to tick me off right now," Walt snarled.
Tyson winced slightly at the pain of his burned arm but scoffed at the coach's words, meeting his glare defiantly. "Or what? You'll do to me what you did to Trevor?" He held up his arm, displaying the angry red burn mark. "A little late for that."
"Trevor should have kept his mouth shut!" he spat. "And you need to keep your head down and focus on the game. It's time you learned your place on this team."
The coach lunged forward, grabbing Tyson by his practice jersey. He felt the heat emanating from the coach's hands, singeing the material.
Tyson briefly thought to himself that this was the exact same thing that Whitney had done. Is this something they do during practice that becomes ingrained in football player's fight repertoire? He considered kneeing Walt in the balls like he had Whitney, but he didn't need to resort to such tactics anymore.
Shoving hard, Tyson sent Coach Walt flying backward, breaking his grip. Walt crashed through the sauna door, and the wood splintered under the impact. As he tumbled inside, he knocked over the brazier. Hot coals and meteor rock scattered across the floor, and smoke rose from where they landed.
For a moment, everything was still. Then, Coach Walt snarled. His eyes closed in concentration, his face a mask of fury. Suddenly, the whole room burst into flames. The fire spread with unnatural speed, engulfing the sauna and spilling out into the office. Flames crawled up the walls and danced across the ceiling, turning the small space into a furnace. The inferno roared around Tyson. He felt the pain but stepped through the wall of fire, regardless. His clothes lit and smoldered.
His skin had transformed into a grotesque landscape of weeping blisters and charred flesh, and angry crimson patches spread across his arms and face.
An overwhelming urge to scratch consumed him, and he yielded to it.
His fingers raked across his ruined skin, and something extraordinary happened. The burned tissue peeled away in thick strips, falling to the floor like shed snake skin. Underneath, impossibly, lay fresh pink skin without so much as a scar. Tyson stared at his renewed flesh with fascination. This must have been part of Greg's power. Bugs molt, right? He'd have to look into it later.
Coach Walt watched in horror as Tyson continued to peel away the burned layers. "How did you do that?"
Tyson didn't answer. He simply stared at the coach, unimpressed. Walt's shock quickly turned back to anger. With a guttural yell, he swung his fist at Tyson's face.
But Tyson was ready. Using the superhuman speed he'd stolen from Greg Arkin, his hand shot out, catching the coach's fist mid-swing. Walt's eyes widened in disbelief as Tyson effortlessly held his punch at bay. The two stood there, locked in a standoff amidst the burning office. The flames cast flickering shadows across their faces, highlighting the growing fear in Walt's eyes.
"You think you're special?" Coach Walt questioned. "I've seen hundreds of kids like you. You're all just a bunch of punks wasting your God-given talent. It was me that raised them up to greatness and made something out of them. Without my help, you'll end up a nobody."
He struggled to free his hand from Tyson's grip, but it was useless. The boy's strength was far beyond anything he'd encountered before. Panic began to set in as Walt realized he was no longer in control of the situation. He shouted, "Let go of me!"
And Tyson did.
Coach Walt believed he regained control of the situation.
Before the coach could smile in triumph, Tyson pushed forward, driving his legs and wrapping Walt in his arms. He tackled the man into the smoldering ruins of the sauna. Walt crashed hard against charred wooden beams, grunting in pain.
Spotting a glowing green meteor rock amidst the debris, Tyson snatched it up. Energy crackled around his clenched fist as he summoned Jeremy's electrical powers. Walt raised his hands in a feeble attempt to shield himself, but it was too late. Tyson grabbed Walt's wrist with one hand and held the meteor rock in the other.
The coach's eyes widened in shock. His body convulsed violently as electricity coursed through him, and Walt jerked uncontrollably. The smell of ozone filled the air, and sparks danced between them. As the electricity flowed from Tyson, Walt felt a connection forming, as if the current was opening a channel between them. Through this electric link, he sensed something more.
He felt heat, a raging inferno.
Instinctively, Tyson knew what he was feeling. It was Coach Walt's power over fire, the ability he'd used to set the Torch and this office ablaze.
Focusing his mind on that fiery energy, Tyson visualized it as a tangible force, an inferno contained within Coach Walt's body. Then, using his electrical powers as a conduit, he began to pull.
The effect was immediate and intense. Coach Walt's eyes widened in shock and fear. He struggled, trying to break free from Tyson's grip, but the electrical current locked them together. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the fire within him slowly drew out. Tyson felt the heat rushing into him. It was overwhelming, like trying to contain a wildfire within his veins. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to control the influx of power.
Coach Walt's body began to sag, and his strength faded as his power was stripped away. The man's eyes, once filled with rage, now showed only confusion and terror. As the last vestiges of fire were pulled from Coach Walt, Tyson felt a surge of energy.
Finally, the connection broke. Coach Walt collapsed to the floor, unconscious and drained. Tyson stumbled backward, his body crackling with excess energy. He looked down at his hands, watching as small arcs of electricity, tinged with flickering flames, jumped between his fingers.
He knelt next to Coach Walt's form, making sure the man was still breathing and checking his pulse. It was steady, if a bit weak. As the adrenaline began to fade, Tyson became aware of the damage around them. It extended past the sauna and office. The entire locker room was scorched.
If the fire department and police weren't already here, they would arrive soon. Tyson picked the big man up in a bridal carry and began walking outside, where emergency personnel would be.
Principal Kwan rounded the corner and took in Tyson with wide eyes. His clothes were scorched and melted, but the young man appeared uninjured."What in the world happened here?" he asked, looking from Tyson to Coach Walt's unconscious form.
Tyson tried to create a plausible explanation that didn't involve superpowers or meteor rocks. "Coach Walt... he started the fire in the Torch office. And another in the locker room. I think he passed out from smoke inhalation."
"Are you sure he started the fire?"
"He was the only person in the area, besides Chloe Sullivan, who was in the Torch, working on an article at the time," Tyson said, hoping the principal wouldn't press for details.
Principal Kwan looked skeptical but seemed more concerned with the immediate situation. He stepped beside Coach Walt, checking his breathing. "We need to get medical attention for him," Kwan said, pulling out his cell phone. "And the police will want to hear about this."
— Meteor Freak —
Clark Kent stood in the middle of one of the Kent farm's fields with his eyes fixed on a scarecrow mounted on a wooden post. Jonathan Kent clapped his son on the shoulder. "Alright. Rule number one. Always practice away from the barn. Come on," Jonathan said, guiding Clark several paces away from the scarecrow.
"Dad, I don't get it. I thought the whole point was to stop this from happening."
"Well, in order to find the off switch, first we need to find the on switch, right?" Jonathan explained patiently. "Now, I want you to remember exactly what you were thinking about the first time it happened."
Clark stared at the scarecrow, uncomfortable. After a few seconds of silence, Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder and encouraged him, "Come on."
The young man shifted his weight, clearly ill at ease. "Dad... this might be easier if I was..."
"Alone," Jonathan finished. "Yeah. Sorry." He gave Clark another supportive pat on the back and started to walk away.
"Thanks," Clark mumbled.
As Jonathan headed back toward the barn, Clark returned his attention to the scarecrow. His face scrunched up in concentration, but nothing happened. He stared at it for another long moment, then suddenly whispered, "Lana."
In an instant, Clark's eyes began to glow, and heat waves shot from them. The scarecrow exploded into a ball of flames, the fire crackling and consuming the straw figure. Clark's face lit up with a proud smile, and he looked over his shoulder at his dad.
Jonathan, witnessing the display from a distance, chuckled and shook his head in amusement.
Later, in the Kent kitchen, Clark stood before a container of popcorn. Martha and Jonathan watched as their son aimed his heat vision at the foil-covered pan. The foil slowly rose as the corn inside began to pop.
Jonathan leaned against the kitchen counter, a hint of pride in his voice. "Five scarecrows, two water barrels, and our mailbox later..."
"Dad, you were right. Once I understood what triggered the heat, I was able to control it without thinking about..." He hesitated for a moment before finishing, "sex."
As the word left his mouth, the Jiffy Pop container exploded, sending popcorn flying in all directions. Martha and Jonathan exchanged amused glances.
"You sure about that, son?" Jonathan asked, unable to hide his smirk.
Clark, seemingly oblivious to the irony, walked over to pick up his backpack. "Trust me. Next time I have a date, I'll be able to take her out without setting her on fire."
Jonathan's amusement grew. "Well, that's a relief."
Martha and Jonathan hugged and shared a quick kiss, though their faces betrayed a hint of lingering concern at the unique challenges they faced in raising a son with extraordinary abilities.
The scent of slightly burned popcorn lingered in the air as Clark said, "So now that I've got everything under control… I was wondering if I could join the football team."
— Meteor Freak —
Tyson walked away from the school building. He had just finished giving his statement to the authorities, carefully omitting anything incriminating from his confrontation with Coach Walt. As he stepped into the late afternoon sunlight, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a tree.
Kara was standing in the shade. When she saw Tyson approaching, she pushed off the tree and fell into step beside him. He couldn't resist the urge to quip, "Changed your mind? Are you interested in seeing my hotel room?"
Kara rolled her eyes, but to Tyson's surprise, she replied, "Actually, yes."
Tyson raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her response. "Oh?"
"Not about the hotel room," Kara said, rolling her eyes. "I assume you've heard about this fiasco with Lex getting married?"
He recalled overhearing Lex and Clark's conversation earlier. "You don't seem enthusiastic," he observed.
"There's something wrong with him. This is all so uncharacteristic. But he won't listen to me." She paused, then added, "Lionel's going to throw a fit when he realizes that Lex didn't make her sign the prenup."
"Oof," Tyson winced. "But that does seem suspicious."
Kara nodded in agreement, her concern was written all over her face. Tyson couldn't help but joke to lighten the mood, "So because Lex is getting married, you've realized how short life is, and you need to live it to the fullest, so you're coming back to my hotel room?"
Kara snorted, shaking her head at his antics.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," Tyson chuckled. "So what's up? You want me to throw the bachelor party?"
This time, Kara laughed outright. "No," she said, "I want you to be my date for the wedding."
Tyson stopped walking abruptly. "Wait. You're actually asking me on a date? Didn't you shoot me down yesterday?"
"Don't make a big deal out of it."
"The prettiest girl in school asks me out, and I need to keep it cool," he mused, then a grin spread across his face. "I can do that."
Kara rolled her eyes again, but Tyson caught the hint of her smile. He turned and changed directions, and she moved to keep pace with him. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"We need to get you a dress and find me a suit."
On one hand, he was thrilled at the prospect of being Kara's date. On the other, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this situation than met the eye. Kara's concern about Lex's behavior nagged at him. He had only been in Smallville for a short time, but from his meta-knowledge, he knew that Lex Luthor was not one to make rash decisions, especially regarding money and family matters. His falling in love quickly wasn't nearly as strange as his not insisting on a prenuptial agreement. He wondered if it had anything to do with Miss Atkins having an aura.
Scratch that. It definitely had to do with her power. She was using her 'sexy' superpower on Lex.
As they made their way down the street, Tyson glanced at Kara. Her face was thoughtful, and he could almost see the gears turning in her mind. He wondered what she hoped to accomplish by bringing him to the wedding. Was she simply looking for moral support, or did she have something else in mind?
As they walked, Tyson noticed the occasional brush of Kara's arm against his. "So," he began, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them, "any particular color you had in mind for your dress?"
Kara seemed to snap out of her thoughts. "I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. "I've been more focused on figuring out what's going on with Lex."
Tyson nodded understandingly. "Well, maybe we can kill two birds with one stone. We'll find you a knockout dress that'll turn heads and allow us to observe Lex up close."
"You catch on quick," she said approvingly. "There's a boutique a few blocks from here. It's not exactly high fashion, but it's the best we've got in Smallville. As for your suit..." She trailed off, giving Tyson an appraising look.
Tyson raised an eyebrow. "What? Don't think I can clean up nice?"
"No, I'm sure you can. I was just thinking we might need to make a trip to the private tailor Lex uses. He's in town but exclusive. Otherwise, the selection here is... limited."
Tyson pulled out his black card from his wallet. "That's fine. We can use this."
Kara shook her head. "You won't need that. I asked you to be my date, and it's a Luthor wedding. We'll cover it."
Tyson scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'm not letting you pay for your dress, or my suit, or the corsage, or anything else." She raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I haven't forgotten our conversation on the bus," he explained. "I don't care that you're a Luthor. I'm going to treat you like any other pretty girl deserves to be treated. Plus, I can't have you actually thinking I'm homeless."
Kara looked at him skeptically, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. Tyson continued, undeterred by her scrutiny. "I was thinking maybe blue to match your eyes or a yellow-gold to match your hair and aura."
Kara studied him for a minute before saying, "Blue."
"Blue it is. Unless they've got something that looks killer on you in gold. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, something white would look awesome, but alas, since it's a wedding, that's not allowed. White would be good though; we should get one anyway. You can wear it on our second date."
Kara's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Oh god, are you just doing this so you can see me modeling dresses for you?"
"Of course not. We'll just be in and out. Do you think I have nothing better to do all afternoon than to watch the best-looking girl in school change outfits repeatedly?"
Kara rolled her eyes once more, but yet again, she failed to hide the ghost of a smile. The boutique came into view, a quaint storefront with mannequins displaying various dresses in the window. Tyson held the door open for Kara. The bell above the door chimed as they entered, and a saleswoman greeted them with a warm smile.
"Ready to make me look presentable?" Kara asked.
"You could wear a potato sack and still be the most beautiful girl at that wedding. But let's see if we can find something to make even Lex Luthor's bride jealous."
Kara chuckled, shaking her head. "Ugh, you're just buttering me up, so I model for you more."
Tyson grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "If it makes you feel any better, I already solved your Lex problem."
"Oh really?" Kara said skeptically.
"The reason he's falling for her is because she has a power granted by the meteor rocks," Tyson said matter-of-factly.
Kara froze, her hand hovering over a rack of dresses. "What did you say?"
Tyson leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Remember what I said about your aura? I can see the aura around people with powers. Miss Atkins has one." Kara's eyes widened, and her full attention shifted from the dresses to Tyson. He continued, "My running theory is that she has a sexy superpower that she's using to seduce and control Lex."
Kara just blinked twice, staring at him. After a moment, she said, "I can never tell if you're serious or not."
Tyson's face remained earnest. "I'm serious, Kara. Think about it. Lex Luthor, I don't know him well, but he seems like a smart and reasonable guy, until he suddenly falls head over heels for a woman he barely knows? And not only that, but he's willing to marry her without a prenup after a few days? Come on."
Kara's brow furrowed as she considered his words. "But... meteor powers? That's..." Her face cycled through a range of emotions: disbelief, confusion, and finally, a grudging acceptance. "Let's say I believe you. What do we do about it?"
"Well, that's where you come in," Tyson said, picking up a sleek blue dress from a nearby rack. "We attend the wedding, keep a close eye on Miss Atkins, and look for any evidence of her using her powers on Lex."
Kara nodded slowly. "And if we find proof?"
"Then we figure out a way to break her hold on him," Tyson replied. "But first things first, we need to make sure you look absolutely stunning. It'll give us an excuse to be near Lex and his bride-to-be."
"Alright, let's do this. But Tyson?"
"Yeah?"
"If this turns out to be some elaborate joke, I swear I'll make you regret it."
Tyson's grin widened. "Noted. Now, are you going to try on that dress, or do I need to keep buttering you up?"
Kara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Fine."
As Kara disappeared into the changing room, Tyson leaned against a nearby wall to wait.
She walked out of the dressing room and did a little twirl. The blue dress hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her slender figure. The fabric perfectly matched the hue of her eyes. The dress featured a low-sweeping neckline that highlighted her collarbones and showed off some of her cleavage, while the skirt flowed gracefully to mid-thigh. A back swept low enough to be scandalous, stopping just above her pelvis and revealing all her toned muscles.
Tyson's eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. "Christ, it's like it was made just for you. If you're not buying that one for the wedding, it's an acceptable trade for the white one for our second date."
Kara blushed before firing back. "You seem awfully convinced you're getting a second date." She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. "I was just thinking, why wait until after the wedding? Then they'll be married, and there will be more issues with no prenup."
Tyson seemed to think on it for a second. He nodded sagely, and his face grew mock-serious. "Because if we do things before the wedding, I won't get that date with you."
Kara stared at him deadpan. "You're willing to risk Lex losing tens of billions of dollars from his inheritance to go on a date with me?"
"You're priceless, Kara," Tyson replied without hesitation.
She shook her head, a mix of amusement and disbelief in her eyes. "I don't know if that's sweet or stupid."
Tyson had a lopsided grin as he responded, "Like I said, I don't care that you're a Luthor."
Kara studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. She seemed to be weighing his words, trying to determine if he was being sincere or if this was all part of some elaborate game. Finally, she let out a small chuckle and turned back towards the dressing room.
Tyson called after her, "So, what'll you try on next?"