The rain hasn’t come. Clark stands at the kitchen window, Lois behind him, rubbing his shoulder. “The bank called again. Your mom’s loan—they want collateral by Friday.” Clark: “I could lift a tractor out of a sinkhole in Metropolis last week. But here? I can’t make corn grow.” Lois turns him around. Lois: “You’re not a god, Clark. You’re a farmer’s son. And right now, you’re also a father watching our boys fall apart.” EXT. SMALLVILLE HIGH - DAY (DSRIP FLARE)

A low-angle shot, grainy but sharp—Kansas wheat bending under a pressure system. The DSRIP transfer catches every bead of sweat on Jonathan Kent’s brow as he hurls a football at a rusted tractor tire.

title card. No music. Just wind.

The DSRIP ’s shadow detail is crushed, almost noir. Clark, in the suit, holds a collapsing concrete pipe over a homeless family. A drone—LuthorCorp tech—hovers, recording. “They’re live-streaming. If you lift that pipe, the whole world sees Superman in a sewer saving three addicts instead of stopping the stock market crash.” Clark: “Then let them watch.” He lifts. The pipe crumbles. The family lives. The internet calls it a publicity stunt.