At the Luthor Building in Metropolis, Lex Luthor stood before a group of student representatives from Metropolis University . They were members of the "Lex Luthor University Support Group," young and ambitious, eager to align themselves with the rising political force.
"We all know that when power is concentrated," Lex began, his voice measured yet compelling, "even the smallest force can release extraordinary impact."
The room quieted.
"When I was younger, I often asked my father what Metropolis would become. What would Kansas look like in the future? My curiosity annoyed him. Eventually, he told me that if I truly wanted to understand the future of my city, I would have to observe it myself."
He paced slowly, his expression reflective.
"On my fourteenth birthday, he gave me a book. I wanted a bicycle. Instead, I received a lesson. One line stayed with me: The future is only a dream away. When you wake, you realize the world has already changed."
His tone softened.
"Every time I wake from a dream, I wonder what subtle shifts have taken place. Sometimes we notice them. Sometimes we do not. But they are always there."
His gaze swept across the students.
"You represent possibility. With your support, the future of Metropolis becomes more than a dream. It becomes inevitable. I ask for your full support, not for me, but for what this city can become."
Applause filled the office.
A blonde student in the front row clapped harder than the rest, admiration unmistakable in her eyes. When the applause subsided, she approached him.
"Mr. Luthor, may I take a picture with you?"
"Of course," Lex replied smoothly.
They stood close for the photograph.
"Could we stand in front of that portrait?" she asked, gesturing toward a framed image behind him.
Lex turned. It was a photograph of himself delivering a speech at Kansas Central University.
"You gave that speech two years ago," she said. "I remember every word."
"That is impressive," Lex answered with a faint smile.
After the picture, his attention drifted to the necklace around her neck. A gilded pendant spelled out his name: Lex.
"Specially made for you," she said proudly.
He maintained his composure, but inside, discomfort stirred. Devotion at that level rarely ended well. He had learned that lesson before.
After greeting the remaining students and completing the formalities, Lex exited with his security team.
Across town, at a state campaign office in Metropolis, Jonathan Kent adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit. His hair was neatly combed, his posture resolute. Papers filled the desk before him.
Standing nearby were Clark, Martha, Adrian, and Lois. Staff members from the state election board and the campaign's senior strategist, Mr. Chandler, were also present.
"Our opponent is Lex Luthor," Chandler said. "His funding is ten times ours. We need bold proposals. Headlines. Promises that capture attention."
"Like building a border wall or promising universal healthcare?" Adrian interjected casually, arms folded.
Chandler blinked. "Not exactly, but similar. Big ideas. Things that may not be immediately achievable, but feel within reach."
"So empty promises," Jonathan replied evenly. "Selling dreams you have no intention of delivering."
"It is not deception," Chandler insisted. "It is strategy."
Jonathan's jaw tightened. "If I wanted to win by shouting slogans, I would not have entered this race."
Silence settled over the room.
"You're dismissed, Mr. Chandler."
Shock rippled through the staff as Chandler gathered his things and left.
Lois let out a low whistle. "Well, Mr. Kent, I respect the integrity, but firing your top strategist this close to election day? That narrows your odds considerably."
"Lois," Jonathan said sincerely, "you have proven your capability. Would you consider serving as my campaign manager?"
She studied him, then glanced briefly at Adrian and Clark.
"Perhaps you planned this all along," she said dryly. "Fine. I do not quit halfway."
From that moment, Lois moved with focused intensity.
Her first action was direct and visible: campaign visibility at Metropolis University.
The campus walls were plastered with Lex Luthor's posters. Without hesitation, Lois covered them with Jonathan Kent's.
The message was clear. The race was not over.
As she moved on to the next location, the blonde supporter from earlier noticed Lex's image obscured. Fury flared in her expression.
She stormed toward the wall, ready to tear Jonathan's poster down, but was intercepted by Hanna and several volunteers working for the Kent campaign. Tensions escalated quickly. Words turned into shoving, and shoving into a full brawl before campus security intervened.
That evening, the blonde student returned to her group's activity room. Blood stained the corner of her lip, but her eyes burned with resolve.
"We are not losing," she declared to the small group gathered around her. "If Kent refuses to withdraw, we make him withdraw."
One of the boys shifted nervously. "Brona… what are you saying?"
"It is simple," she replied coldly. "We prevent him from attending the campaign speech. If necessary, we make sure he never speaks again."
"That is illegal," another protested. "Threatening calls were already too much."
A taller student stepped forward. "I am calling the police."
The gunshot shattered the room.
The boy collapsed, blood spreading across his shirt.
Brona lowered the pistol slowly, her voice steady. "Anyone else?"
No one spoke.
"Jack is not dead yet," she continued. "Each of you will stab him once. Then we are all equally responsible."
Terror sealed their compliance.
Late that night at Kent Farm in Smallville, Martha tucked Rachel into bed before retiring herself. Jonathan remained awake beneath a desk lamp, reviewing his speech notes for the upcoming campaign event.
The strain was evident. He paused, pressing a hand briefly to his chest before taking a slow drink of water. After a moment, he resumed writing.
A sudden noise echoed from the barn.
Jonathan stiffened.
He set down his pen, retrieved a baseball bat from beside the door, and stepped into the night. The air was cool, the farm silent except for distant wind brushing against the fields.
Inside the barn, he switched on a flashlight.
The beam cut through darkness as he advanced carefully.
Crunch.
He looked down. Scattered grain lay beneath his boots, far from where it should have been stored.
Alert now, he tightened his grip on the bat.
"Who's there?" he called.
A figure darted between the shelves. The flashlight beam caught movement for only a second before darkness swallowed it again.
Jonathan moved faster, heart pounding.
The intruder vanished deeper into the barn.
Without hesitation, Jonathan pursued.