“Lex…
Luthor?”
“LexCorp?!
That LexCorp?!”
“You…
you say you’re Luthor?
The guy on the magazine cover…”
“That’s his father!
He’s Luthor Junior!”
“God, Jim, pinch me…
Ouch!
You fucking hit me for real!”
Bob Rickman stepped back contentedly, a somewhat smug smile resting on his face.
Superman’s greatest enemy.
Ariel narrowed his eyes, gazing at the bald man on the stage.
The bald man was calmly wiping the moisture from his bare head.
“I know what you’re all thinking.”
Having wiped his forehead clean, Lex Luthor folded his handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket.
“A bald guy from Metropolis, standing in your small town dripping wet, telling you he’s interested in your land.”
“Sounds like the start of a joke.”
Hearing this, quite a few people in the crowd broke into laughter.
“However!”
“I assure you all…
this is no joke.” Lex nodded slightly.
“Smallville is a place that has been undervalued for far too long.”
“You should know that the ground beneath your feet holds the most extraordinary minerals in all of Kansas.”
“And what Mr.
Rickman and I intend to do is put this land to proper use.”
The briefing drew to a close, greeted by sparse applause.
Even so, it was far warmer than at the start.
“Absurd.” Jonathan stood up angrily.
“Farmers permanently sell their land to a company, and then the company decides whether to hire the original farm owners back as contract growers—what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
This was the first time Ariel had ever heard Jonathan use profanity.
The last time this model Kansas husband had revealed his true vocabulary in front of the family was eight years ago, back when Uncle Ben had visited.
“Jonathan…” Martha offered a helpless smile.
“Don’t be angry; besides, your heart isn’t good.”
“Furthermore, the children are right here.”
“I’m fine.” Jonathan calmed himself down.
Ariel glanced at Joanna.
Sparks flickered uncertainly in the girl’s pupils; she was clearly feeling angry because of Jonathan’s anger.
“Don’t you be angry either.”
Ariel tugged on the hem of the girl’s short-sleeved shirt, letting out a sigh of relief only after watching Joanna return to her expressionless state.
He certainly didn’t want to see this entire auditorium turned to cinders.
The Kent family followed the crowd toward the exit.
“Thank you for coming tonight, Mr.
Parker, drive safely on your way back.”
“Mrs.
Jones, I’m sure your sugar beets will yield a bumper crop this year.”
“Old Mike!
Make sure to save two jars of your honey for me next time.”
Rickman stood at the exit of the exhibition tent, shaking hands with every farmer who passed by.
And those who shook his hand…
Howard Parker’s steps suddenly took a turn, heading straight toward the folding table near the tent’s entrance that everyone had previously ignored.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
“Young man!” Old Parker said urgently.
“That free assessment of yours, can it help me calculate how much my plot of land is worth?”
The same went for Old Mike, who kept bees.
He turned back before he even stepped out of the exhibition tent, holding his straw hat in one hand while grabbing the assessor’s sleeve with the other.
“Can the hill behind my place be assessed too?
Over the years, meteorites blasted quite a few craters into it—maybe there’s some valuable mineral underneath!”
“I was here first!
Parker, get in fucking line!”
“Mr.
Rickman!
Mr.
Rickman!
My plot of land is right by Creek River, great location!
Take a look at mine first!”
“Can we sign the contract right after the assessment?
I can sign tonight!”
Rickman seemed quite flattered by the enthusiasm.
“Too passionate, everyone, too passionate…”
Seeing this scene, Jonathan Kent froze in the middle of the crowd.
A chest full of anger had dissolved into utter bewilderment.
“Does no one want to farm anymore?” Jonathan murmured.
“Dad,” Ariel said in a low voice.
“Let’s go home first.”
Jonathan remained silent for a moment, looking at the figures jostling to crowd around the folding table…
Some were neighbors whose fences he had helped repair, while others were partners who had swapped seeds with him on the mutual-aid roster…
“Everyone!” Jonathan suddenly spoke up.
“Everyone!
Listen to me for a second!”
The clamor came to a abrupt halt, and people looked back at the simple, honest farmer in confusion.
“I know this year has been hard,” Jonathan sighed.
“But this is the land passed down by our ancestors.
Once you sign your name, it won’t belong to us anymore.”
“Mr.
Rickman says he will rehire you as growers, but the contract states he has the right to decide whether to rehire or not.”
“Today he needs you to grow corn, so he rehires you.
What if he doesn’t need you tomorrow?”
“What if this plot of land gets resold to a real estate developer the day after?”
“You won’t even have the right to come back and look at your own home…”
“Jonathan Kent!”
A short, chubby man whom Ariel remembered as always greeting people with a smile now had a face red with rage.
“Easy for you to talk standing there!
Your two sons can match ten full-grown laborers!
Of course you’re in no hurry to sell!”
“That’s right!”
“Don’t you still have leftover seeds from this year?
You have seeds, so of course you’re not panicking!”
“You can’t go around stopping us from chasing a better future!”
“Did your mutual-aid roster actually help us?
You only helped your neighbors and those you’re close with!
At least half the people in this town haven’t received a single favor from you!
Jonathan choked up, completely rendered speechless.
He sighed and placed his straw hat back on his head, letting the shadow of the brim obscure his eyes in dark ambiguity.
Ariel, meanwhile, could see the sparks deep within Joanna’s pupils flickering erratically once more.
Clearly, if anyone said another word, she wouldn’t mind turning the entire exhibition tent into scorched earth.
“Alright, alright, everyone!”
Rickman’s voice cut in at just the right moment.
He parted the crowd and walked over.
“Mr.
Kent has his concerns, which is completely understandable.
Everyone feels differently about their land, and that’s precisely why I respect Smallville.”
The crowd’s anger was smoothed over by his few brief words.
“Mr.
Kent.” Rickman stopped in front of Jonathan, his gaze sincere.
“Even if we can’t make a deal, I still hope we can be friends.”
He extended his right hand, intending to shake Jonathan’s.
“Mr.
Rickman!” But a blonde young man naturally stepped in between the two.
“Your reputation precedes you!
You must be the famous Kansas capitalist, right?”
Rickman froze for a split second.
Whose kid is this blonde kid?
His eyes narrowed slightly, and mental tentacles instantly surged out from his palm, spreading into the other’s mind.
Desire.
His ability was simple: touch a person’s desire and amplify their single most coveted thought a thousand times over!
To fan an existing spark of desire into a roaring wildfire.
Every farmer who had shaken his hand at the exit had their own string, and he only needed to pluck it…
There was nothing.
How was that possible?!
Ever since he was struck by a meteorite in Smallville back then, his ability had been infallible!
Even Lex Luthor—the future head of LexCorp and heir to the Luthor empire—had been touched by him just once at a banquet in Metropolis, and was subsequently led all the way to Smallville!
Rickman drastically surged his power!
In the very next instant, however, before he could even react, a splitting headache tore through him!
His lifetime of memories flashed by like a spinning lantern, and in his daze, he caught a glimpse of a gigantic gate!
Upon it were carved flying pillars!
Inscribed with gold and silver filigree were runes…
“Ha—!”
The Gates of Heaven swung wide open!
Boundless, infinite golden light streamed out from behind the doors, and endless steps spiraled up into the firmament!
A pair of golden eyes ignited from the far end of the halo!
“ROAR…”
It let out a low roar, molten gold flowing from its form.
With a shake of its mane, divine thunder crashed down from above!
It was judgment!
It was the scales!
It was divine punishment!
“Lord…”
Muttering in his daze, Rickman was about to fall to his knees, prostrating himself to confess a lifetime of sins before the deity; he…
“Mr.
Rickman?”
A voice dragged him back to the exhibition tent.
Rickman’s pupils shrank as he realized that the blonde kid was still standing right in front of him.
While he himself…
Had inexplicably fallen to his knees.