Chapter Text
It was late when Bruce had left the Kent House, walking around Smallville in the dead of night. He rubbed some dirty in his hand as he walked across the dirt road. He frowned. This place was always so darn quiet.
There had always been something about Smallville that the longtime Gothamite didn’t like. Something just below the surface that bothered him. He had never quite been able to put his foot on it…but it was there. An old middle of nowhere town, eh?
Despite what the boy scout said, Bruce was not a “city boy” or anything of that magnitude. He just wasn’t blinded by nostalgic childhood memories of mom-and-pop diners and Saturday Night community cookout. There had always been something unsettling going on with Smallville and now, it was virtually a ghost town. It only existed to be a farming area, which is what concerned the vigilante so much. Something was definitely going on.
Unfortunately, Clark was not the expert on Smallville these days, spending too much time in his cape to really know what was going on in the ground. The Kents were similarly unaware, all too focused on their own little community of longtime friends. However, there was one person who was not, someone Clark would hate Bruce for ever involving, but the Dark Knight couldn’t waste time trying to keep the Kryptonian from becoming irritated.
So, Bruce stopped at a house around the corner, a small but charming farmhouse that looked freshly painted. He walked up to the door, knocking twice. Frankly, it would have been quicker to just sneak into the building, but he couldn’t raise too much suspicion, so he just waited for the door to finally open and when it did, he was greeted by the owner of the house, Lana Lang.
The red-haired woman blinked twice. “Bruce Wayne? In Smallville?”, her slightly southern drawl coming out in her voice.
Bruce nodded. “Lana. I need to speak with you.”
The red-haired woman opened her door allowing him to come in as she teased, “Left the costume at home?”
Bruce ignored the joke. Lana had become aware of his identity when Batman helped Superman uncover the conspiracy of how her husband, Pete Ross, was murdered about 20 years ago. He had respect for the woman. She had a good heart, took care of her ailing parents, and had seemingly always been loyal to her longtime friend, the most powerful man in the world.
“I’ll cut to the chase. What’s going on in your town, Lana?”, Bruce said, bluntly, keeping an eye on her for any changes in her facial expression.
The red-haired woman looked at him blankly. “I don’t understand what you mean. The whole problem is that nothing is going on…I mean, you have seen how many have moved out of Smallville, haven’t you?”
Bruce stares, his frown deepening. “There is something wrong with you crops, Lana. With Smallville’s crops. Someone or something has infiltrated this little town and has likely already begun whatever their plan is.”
The red-haired woman frowned, looking back up Bruce with a bit of a frustration. “Why are talking to me about this?”
Bruce quirked an eyebrow at her, a bit surprised by her outburst. “Because, if there is something going on in Smallville, Lana Lang will always know”, he says in a tone mocking Clark Kent, giving her a pointed look.
Lana looks down at that, trying to avoid his gaze now. “I am secretary at the Smallville Baptist Church and an event planner. I’m not in the mayor’s office.”
Bruce frowned as he stared at her. He knew she wasn’t hiding anything from him, but he still felt concerned about what was clearly bothering her. Something was wrong and he knew the redhead standing before him felt it, she just didn’t want to admit it…at least not yet.
“I’m staying in town for a few days. I’ll be in touch”, Bruce said, a bit gentler, heading out.
Bruce spent the next several minutes observing the scenery, familiarizing himself with the area. He felt uncomfortable here to a degree, especially at night. The night was his domain, his time that the environment was his to take advantage of. However, the uneven ground he felt he was standing on mentally in this town and his lack of mastery of the happening of this area made him feel uncomfortable. Like he could be blindsided. Unprepared. And as he left he knew one thing, if there was one thing he hated…it was being blindsided.