The more Alex thought about it, the more convinced he beca that his theory made sense.
He still wasn't entirely sure what Brainiac really was—
but one thing was obvious:
that highly intelligent robot had to be Kryptonian in origin.
And not just that—
it clearly shared a deep connection with Clark Kent.
So if Brainiac had been carrying an object that perfectly matched sothing Clark owned…
That couldn't be a coincidence.
Not by any stretch.
Which ant—
whatever that cube was, it had to be important.
Very important.
Sothing from a civilization far beyond Earth's comprehension.
> "Well," Alex murmured with a smile,
"since I've been in Smallville this long, maybe it's about ti I paid Superman a visit."
Decision made.
He didn't waste another second.
He left his house, drove into town, and stopped by a few local shops—
picking up a handful of modest gifts along the way.
A short while later, his car pulled up outside the Kent Farm.
Knock, knock, knock!
The door creaked open to reveal a rugged, weathered man with kind eyes and a farr's strength in his hands.
It was Jonathan Kent.
Jonathan looked over the unfamiliar young man on his doorstep, curiosity in his eyes.
> "Can I help you, son?" he asked, voice warm but cautious.
> "Mr. Kent, hello. My na's Alex. I just moved to Smallville recently—Clark and I are… friends. Thought I'd drop by to say hi."
At the ntion of Clark's friend, Jonathan's entire deanor brightened.
After all, he knew all too well how awkward his boy's social life had been.
Ever since Clark had started developing strange new abilities,
he'd struggled to fit in.
The rumors, the fear, the whispers behind his back—
they'd all made his son doubt himself, even question whether he belonged.
Clark Kent might've been a hero in the making,
but right now, he was still just a quiet, uncertain high schooler.
So the news that his son actually had a friend—
that was sothing to celebrate.
> "A friend of Clark's? Well, don't just stand there—co on in!"
Jonathan bead, ushering Alex inside with genuine enthusiasm.
Martha Kent appeared soon after, kindly offering Alex a steaming mug of coffee.
The cozy farmhouse sll of hay and pie filled the air.
> "So, Alex," Jonathan asked with a smile, "where are you from?"
> "New York," Alex replied casually.
> "Ahh, a city boy! No wonder you've got that look about you."
They talked easily.
Family, school, the weather—ordinary things.
But between the small talk, Alex listened carefully, learning more about Clark Kent from his parents than he ever could have through research.
He learned that Clark was in his final year of high school,
and that he'd been planning to attend tropolis University after graduation.
And while Jonathan and Martha remained careful not to ntion anything about their son's true origin,
Alex could tell—he knew far more about Clark than they ever would.
---
Creak—
The sound of the front door opening broke the calm.
Clark Kent had returned from school.
> "Clark!" Jonathan called cheerfully. "Co in, son! You've got a visitor—your friend's here!"
> "A… friend?"
Clark blinked, puzzled.
Aside from Chloe, who else would show up at his house?
He stepped through the doorway, glancing toward the living room—
and froze.
That familiar face.
That easy smile.
Holander.
Clark's expression hardened imdiately.
Out of everyone he'd t in Smallville,
this was the last person he wanted to see again.
He still rembered the feel of those punches—
the absolute futility of fighting back.
He knew exactly how terrifying this man was.
And more than that, he couldn't read him.
Alex was powerful, unpredictable, and utterly inscrutable.
Whatever he'd co to Smallville for, it wasn't random.
> "Clark," Alex said pleasantly, waving as if they were old buddies.
"Your dad was just telling about your football days."
> "Yeah… that was a long ti ago," Clark replied carefully, forcing a polite smile.
His tone was cordial—
but his guard was all the way up.
They exchanged a few aningless lines of conversation,
neither lowering their defenses.
> "Clark, you stay and talk to your friend," Jonathan said after a mont, getting up from his chair.
"Martha and I will start on dinner."
And then the Kents were gone, leaving the two young n alone in the room.
Silence hung heavy for a few seconds.
Clark was the first to break it.
> "Holander," he said quietly, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you here?"
> "Clark," Alex replied, tone almost teasing, "is that any way to greet a guest?"
> "You're not here just to visit, are you?" Clark shot back, voice low and steady.
Alex chuckled softly, raising his hands in mock surrender.
> "You're right. I'm not."
He reached into his coat—
and placed a small tallic cube on the coffee table between them.
> "This," he said simply, "is why I'm here."
Clark frowned.
> "What is it?"
Before Alex could answer, Clark froze.
Sothing about the object tugged at his mory—
a faint but unmistakable familiarity.
He reached up, pulling the simple tallic pendant from around his neck.
Holding it over the cube, he compared the shapes—
And his eyes widened.
They matched perfectly.
The key and the lock.
> "Wait a second…"
Clark looked up, shock, awe, and a hint of dread mixing on his face.
Could it be?
The pendant had always been a mystery—
a strange artifact Jonathan had found inside his crashed spacecraft when Clark was a baby.
Until now, he'd never known what it truly was.
But looking at the cube before him…
It didn't take a genius to realize—
That pendant wasn't just decoration.
It was a key.
And the cube—
was the lock.
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