Although he really wanted to immediately beat up the group of men in front of him, Clark still held back.
"Hey, listen— the police are on their way. If you don't want trouble, leave now!" he called out firmly.
Suppressing the urge to act, Clark spoke directly to the other party. The burly leader glared fiercely at Clark, then signalled his men to leave.
"Lana, are you okay?" Clark rushed to his friend as the others retreated. Lana lay trembling on the ground.
"I'm fine," she breathed out, still shaken. Her face showed fear. Seeing Lana's expression, Clark clenched his teeth and made a decision.
A few rough-looking men walked out of the Talon Club, laughing as they headed toward a nearby alley.
"Did you see the look on her face? Haha, she looked like a scared quail. If you touched her she might even squeak like one!" "Hahaha!" The crowd chuckled.
Then they looked up and froze — Clark stepped into the alley, his face dark with anger.
"Hey, look who's decided to show up — our Mr. Speed Demon. As soon as his little friend took a spill, he ran in fitter than anyone. I thought the name Speed Demon was apt for you." The overweight, large-headed man who led the group mocked Clark.
"I don't want to see you at the Talon Club again, got it?" Clark warned.
"Hey, listen up, country bumpkin!" The man sneered, leaning into Clark's face. "We go where we like. In fact, we'll be back tomorrow."
Clark shook his head and turned to walk away. "This is your warning. Next time I won't stop."
"Huh? I got it." The leader didn't look like he planned to let Clark leave so easily. He spat out a jeer: "So you're really into that hot manager girl? Too bad she's just a dirty, slutty bitch!"
Clark's jaw tightened. He had just exhaled slowly when his right hand shot out and his fist landed squarely on the man's face, sending him to the ground.
The other men froze for a moment before charging. One kicked Clark but bounced off harmlessly. With a gentle push from Clark, several men slammed into a trash can corner-first with dull thuds.
The man Clark had hit remained on the ground. Clark had controlled his strength so the blow wasn't fatal, but it hurt.
The man staggered to his feet and sneered: "What? You think you can scare me, country bumpkin?"
Clark's patience snapped. He grabbed the man's collar and lifted him into the air.
"Want coffee? Go somewhere else!" Clark barked, then threw the man out of the alley.
With a crash, he flew out and landed heavily on a slowly moving police car by the roadside. The windshield cracked in a spider-web pattern.
Screech! The police car braked harshly and an elderly female officer exited.
The moment Clark saw the officer he realised trouble and turned to run. Unexpectedly, he found Lana standing not far ahead, watching.
"Freeze!" the female officer shouted, entering the alley with pistol drawn. "Hands on your head!"
Clark turned, confused, and raised his hands in surrender, kneeling.
Kent Farm
Jonathan explained to the female police chief: "Chief, we know our son. He would never intentionally harm someone. Whatever he did, he believed it was the right thing."
"What could possibly require someone being thrown onto my car?" The officer asked, looking at Clark who sat on the sofa with head bowed.
Martha glanced between Jonathan and the officer. Adrian (sitting nearby) continued to sip his coffee quietly.
After a moment of silence, Martha spoke: "Clark gets involved because he wants to help others."
The officer removed her hat, nodded and said: "Perhaps he has a hero complex — but even heroes must obey the law. I will charge him with illegal fighting."
"What does that mean?" Jonathan frowned.
"A fine of 1,500, but the judge will decide the exact amount."
When Clark heard the figure, he stood up abruptly.
"Or we can make a deal, Mr Kent." The officer looked directly at Clark. "Community service — trash pick-up, saving the world one bottle at a time. Also: if the person you injured sues, your compensation might be far higher."
She spun her hat in her hand, put it back on and turned to leave.
After she left, the room was silent. Adrian set down his coffee. He wasn't surprised Clark had hit someone, what surprised him was they'd been caught.
"Don't worry Clark. It's just some community service." Martha tried to comfort him.
Clark lowered his eyes. "Sorry Mom, I shouldn't have done that."
Martha's attempt at comfort evaporated quickly once the medical report arrived.
Because "Big Head," the man Clark had thrown, had a MEDICAL REPORT: severe cervical spine injury — and he was demanding one million in compensation.
"Severe injury and pain, loss of earning capacity." Clark read the paper, disbelief in his eyes.
Martha folded her arms helplessly. "They say he'll be incapacitated for life. He's hired the best lawyer in the country."
Adrian stood by, adding quietly: "You threw him onto the car, Clark. That fact doesn't change."
Clark laid the assessment report down, looked at his worried parents, stood, and walked to the window.
"Maybe it starts here. Kara once said, 'This is an imperfect race, rule them with your power!' I always thought she was wrong… but now I think she was onto something."
Jonathan stepped forward, soup bowl in hand. "Clark, when I was your age I got into many fights. It's not just aliens who feel it. The key is: know the consequences of your actions."
"Yes." Martha added: "Sometimes one decision you make in seconds can affect your whole life."
Jonathan paused, then said: "Perhaps humans are an imperfect race—but it's this imperfect race that raised you. You're more human than you think."
Clark listened. His remark held a tint of anger. After taking a moment, he bade his parents goodbye and walked toward his room.
As he opened his bedroom door he saw Adrian sitting on his bed.
"You?" Clark pointed downstairs and then at Adrian.
"Alright, Adrian. Next time you use your super-speed, best not to aim for my room."
"What if I could pay one million instead of you?" Adrian leaned back calmly.
"One million?" Clark was startled. "You have a million?!"
"Of course. Didn't you go through my room?"
"I…" Clark said awkwardly. "I was affected by the red-kryptonite ring at that time, Adrian. Are you really willing to pay one million for me?"
"One million isn't that important to me." Adrian said quietly.
Hearing this, Clark felt ashamed and began to reflect.
"You're really not angry about what happened before? I kept asking about Kara and Krypton, ignoring my parents' feelings and yours…"
"Clark, reflection is good. But you don't need to do it in front of me." Adrian stood to leave. "Or there's another way that doesn't require a million."
"What?" Clark was stunned.
"Don't worry too much. I'll handle this." Adrian said in the same tone, then walked out.
Late at night.
Adrian left the farm alone and went somewhere.
At the same time, Andy Hawkins — the "Big Head" who extorted a million from Clark — was throwing a party with friends. Half the neck brace he wore was undone, hanging loosely. In high spirits, he boasted about extorting Clark. His friends celebrated him becoming a "millionaire."
Adrian entered the room. The loud laughter stopped. He approached Andy calmly.
"Little confused," Adrian said. "Did you break your cervical spine or not?"
Andy glared. "Who the hell are you? How did you get in?" The friends stared at Adrian, ready to act.
Adrian kept calm, reached out, and took Andy's neck brace.
"How did you do that?" Andy looked at the brace in Adrian's hand, then at his own neck, terror showing.
"Seems you can still jump around without a brace. I'm Clark Kent's brother. Since you're not injured, drop the charges."
Andy erupted: "So you're here for your country-bumpkin brother? Better get that million ready! One more move from him and I'll make him rot in prison a hundred years!"
"Sure, one million is no problem — provided you're telling the truth." Adrian stepped forward, grabbed Andy's cervical area. A chilling crack rang.
Everyone froze. Andy's eyes widened, then he collapsed with a heavy thud.
Silence spread through the room. The terrified men looked at Adrian trembling.
"You… what did you do?" someone said.
"Twisted his cervical spine," Adrian replied gently brushing off his hand.
"How dare you? Aren't you afraid of the police?" someone shouted.
"He didn't have a broken spine before. You were faking it. I just twisted it," Adrian said matter-of-factly.
"His neck wasn't injured! You murderer!" yelled Andy's friend.
Adrian flicked Nicotiana pollen into the air. Then he turned and left. The men who inhaled the pollen suddenly felt clarity and rage rise inside them — Nicotiana amplifies evil in people, making them irritable and prone to self-destruction.