The clinical white of the Smallville Medical Center felt like a shroud. In Room 302, Eric Summers sat propped up against thin pillows, staring blankly at a television that wasn't turned on. He looked smaller—gaunt, exhausted, and utterly devoid of the thrumming vitality that had leveled a school parking lot only twenty-four hours ago.
The door pushed open with a heavy, deliberate click. Lex Luthor stepped inside, his tailored charcoal suit a sharp contrast to the sterile environment. He didn't offer a greeting; he simply stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes boring into Eric like a scalpel.
"The doctors tell me it was an 'adrenal spike' followed by a massive neurological collapse," Lex said, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "They say the electrical surge at the plant scrambled your nervous system, and your body simply... reset."
Eric blinked, his gaze slowly drifting toward Lex. "I don't... I don't remember much, Mr. Luthor. It's all just gray. Like a dream I had while I was running a fever."
Lex leaned forward, his hands gripping the footboard. "A dream? You tore a steel rim off a backboard with your bare hands, Eric. You flipped a car. You were a god for an afternoon, and now you're telling me you're just a boy with a headache?"
"I'm sorry," Eric whispered, his voice trembling. "I just want to go home."
"Home?" Lex scoffed, a flash of genuine anger breaking through his composure. "You were the first piece of evidence that this town wasn't just a collection of freak accidents. You were the proof! And now you're sitting there pretending to be mediocre."
Lex reached out, grabbing Eric's wrist with a sudden, bruising force. He waited for the snap of bone, for the resistance of a titan that could crush granite. Instead, he felt only the thin, fragile pulse of a terrified child. Eric winced, a single tear tracking through the pale dust still clinging to his temple.
"You're lying," Lex hissed, leaning in until he could see his own reflection in Eric's dilated pupils. "The power doesn't just evaporate. It's in there, hidden behind the trauma. Or someone took it from you."
Lex let go of Eric's wrist and straightened his jacket, his expression shifting from frustration to a cold, predatory resolve. He realized then that the Smallville medical staff were out of their depth—or perhaps they were simply part of the "Static" that kept the town's secrets buried.
He walked to the window, looking out at the parking lot where a black LuthorCorp transport van was already idling.
"If the local doctors can't find the spark, Eric, perhaps a more... specialized environment can," Lex said, not turning around. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a direct line. "This is Luthor. I have a Level 4 anomaly currently housed at Smallville Medical. He's unresponsive to standard stimuli. I want a transport team here in ten minutes. Destination: Belle Reve Sanitarium."
Eric's breath hitched. "What? No! My dad—he wouldn't let you—"
"Your father is currently being 'consulted' by my legal team regarding the staggering property damage you caused at the high school," Lex lied smoothly, his voice devoid of empathy. "He understands that you need a facility capable of handling... unique individuals. For your own safety, of course."
…
The door opened, and two orderlies in heavy, reinforced scrubs entered. They didn't look like nurses; they looked like wardens. They began unhooking Eric's monitors with efficient, clinical coldness.
"Wait! Please!" Eric pleaded, his voice small and weak in the sterile room.
Lex didn't look back as he walked toward the door. He had lost a miracle, and he wasn't about to let the only evidence of it walk out the front door and back into a mundane life. If the power was gone, he would find out why. If it was hidden, he would beat it out of the boy in a lab where no one could hear him scream.
"Secure him," Lex commanded. "I want him in the high-security wing of Belle Reve by midnight. No visitors. No exceptions."
As Lex stepped into the hallway, leaving the terrified cries of Eric Summers behind him, he felt a familiar, cold satisfaction. The mystery of Clark Kent might have gone cold, but in the dark halls of Belle Reve, he would ensure that the mystery of the "Leech" remained his and his alone.