The invitation arrived on thick, cream-colored cardstock, hand-delivered to the Kent farm and the Creek residence. Lex Luthor was throwing a "private dinner" to honor the heroes of the Level 3 crisis. No press, no cameras—just a quiet evening of gratitude for the boys who had saved the town's children.
But Jeremy knew the smell of a trap. It smelled like expensive cologne and the ozone of high-end surveillance equipment.
As he dressed in the dark suit Lex had previously gifted him, Jeremy felt the Refined Shards in his pocket. He carefully moved them into a lead-lined internal pocket he'd sewn into the lining. If Lex was looking for a signature, he wouldn't find it there. Jeremy looked at his reflection, forcing his pupils to dilate, softening his predatory stillness into the posture of a weary, traumatized teenager.
"Let's see what you're looking for, Lex," Jeremy whispered.
…
The Great Hall of the Luthor Mansion was lit by a thousand flickering candles, but the warmth was an illusion. Beneath the Persian rugs and behind the velvet tapestries, Lex had spent forty-eight hours installing a state-of-the-art bio-metric array—sensors designed to measure heart rate, body temperature, and the subtle electromagnetic shifts that occurred when "Meteor Freaks" used their gifts.
Clark arrived first, looking uncomfortable in a borrowed tie, his face still carrying a trace of the pallor from the Level 3 radiation. When Jeremy walked in, Clark's posture relaxed slightly—the "Protective Ally" was his only comfort in this den of lions.
"Jeremy. Clark," Lex said, rising from a wingback chair by the fire. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were moving with the precision of a hawk. "The two young men who did what a multi-billion dollar security team couldn't. Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
The dinner was a masterclass in psychological warfare. Lex steered the conversation toward "potential" and "evolution," his words echoing the cold philosophy of his father.
"The world sees a tragedy in Level 3," Lex said, swirling a glass of Montrachet. "But I see a threshold. Earl Jenkins failed because he was a glass house trying to hold a lightning bolt. But you, Jeremy... you disarmed him with a speed that the security cameras couldn't quite track. And you, Clark... you somehow discovered the secret elevator leading to level 3."
Jeremy felt the Static in the room. He could feel the sensors in the walls—tiny, humming pulses of electricity that were "pinging" his body, looking for a resonance.
"It was adrenaline, Lex," Jeremy said, his voice a smooth, calming hum. "Fear does strange things to the body. I didn't feel fast. I just felt like if I didn't move, Chloe was going to die."
"Is that right?" Lex leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Jeremy's. "Because the sensors in that room recorded a massive drop in temperature right before Earl collapsed. Almost as if the air itself... froze."
Clark shifted in his seat, his hand gripping his water glass so hard the crystal began to microscopicly groan. "Lex, we didn't come here for an interrogation. We came because you asked us."
"I'm not interrogating, Clark. I'm admiring," Lex replied. He pressed a silent button on the underside of the table.
Suddenly, a high-frequency electromagnetic pulse—a "probe" designed to provoke a cellular reaction—rippled through the room. It was invisible to the eye, but to Jeremy's Apex Senses, it felt like a screeching siren.
Jeremy saw the split-second tension in Clark's jaw. He felt the ripple hit Clark's unique physiology, a force that should have made the boy's heart spike like a solar flare.
But Jeremy was ready. He didn't just ground himself; he reached out under the table, his foot nudging Clark's. It was a silent signal, a grounding frequency. Using a fraction of his Static, Jeremy created a localized "null zone" around the table. He absorbed the incoming pulse and funneled it silently into the mansion's massive electrical grounding system.
Clark, sensing the shift, took a deep breath and anchored himself. He focused on the mundane—the weight of the silver fork, the taste of the steak.
Neither of them blinked.
On the hidden monitors in Lex's observation room, the data was a flat, boring line. No spikes. No anomalies. Two teenagers eating dinner with the biological signatures of ordinary humans.
"Is everything alright, Lex?" Jeremy asked, his voice a smooth, concerned melody. He looked at his host with a mask of perfect, innocent confusion. "You seem... distracted. Is the wine not to your liking?"
Lex leaned forward, his eyes darting toward a hidden display behind a painting. He was seeing the data in real-time. According to the sensors, the room was empty of anything "special." Jeremy and Clark were a dead zone in the middle of a high-tech storm.
"I'm fine, Jeremy," Lex said, his voice tight. "Just thinking about the future."
"The future is a long way off," Jeremy said, setting his fork down with a soft clink. He looked at Lex, his eyes clear and devoid of any green shimmer. "And after Level 3, I think we've all had enough 'excitement' to last a lifetime."
…
Lex stood at the window, watching the tail lights of Clark's truck disappear down the long driveway. He turned back to the mahogany desk, where his head of security was waiting with a laptop.
"Explain this," Lex commanded, pointing to the graph.
"Sir, the sensors were at 100% capacity. The probe was fired," the technician said, scratching his head. "But we got nothing. Not even a static discharge from the rug. It's like the room was... sterilized. It's biologically impossible for two living organisms to be that... stable."
Lex looked at the empty chairs. He remembered the boy standing over Earl Jenkins in the green fog, and he remembered Clark Kent somehow surviving getting hit by his sports car during the accident at the bridge.
"They weren't stable," Lex whispered, his eyes narrowing. "They were silent. They knew we were watching, and they chose to show us a ghost."
Lex didn't feel defeated; he felt challenged. If the boys were disciplined enough to hide their nature from his best equipment, then the secret they were keeping was more valuable than he had ever imagined.
"Keep the watch on the Kents," Lex said. "But put a second team on Jeremy Creek. If he's the one teaching Clark how to hide... I want to know what else he's teaching him."