"How did you do that?"
Young Hal, still pale and trembling, looked up at Adrian with a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Want to go again?" Adrian asked, tilting his head.
He was honestly surprised the kid didn't look terrified. Didn't this troublemaker know what "death" meant?
"You can't do that!"
A furious voice echoed behind them. Adrian turned to see Hal Jordan—the Green Lantern—standing on the riverbank, eyes blazing with anger.
"What?" Adrian asked coolly.
"I won't allow you to hurt—" Hal paused, realizing how absurd that sounded when directed at his younger self. "I won't allow you to hurt Hal."
The moment Adrian had pushed little Hal off the bridge, Hal's heart had nearly stopped. He'd been ready to activate his Power Ring and fly in to save his younger self—but before he could move, Adrian was already under the bridge, faster than his ring could react.
"I'm not hurting him," Adrian said, his tone calm. "I'm letting him experience what it feels like to fly."
He had noticed Hal following him for a while. But curiosity—and a bit of mischief—made him let it happen.
"Just like when I pushed Dana off the building earlier," Adrian continued, a faint smirk forming. "I only wanted her to experience that same feeling."
"No, you didn't!" Hal snapped, his voice rising with anger. The emotions he'd been holding back burst free. Normally, Hal was the type to smile through pressure—charming, confident, and reckless. But when it came to things he cared deeply about, his emotions could burn out of control.
"Stay away from my family," he warned, taking a threatening step closer. "This is our story."
Adrian's smile sharpened. "Funny words from someone who abandoned his mother at eighteen."
Hal's expression faltered.
Adrian's voice was steady, cutting through like steel. "Understanding is mutual. Your mother couldn't understand you, but you couldn't understand her either. For someone who boasts of having the strongest will in the universe, you can't even grasp the most basic emotional spectrum. It's a sad little irony."
"You—" Hal's face drained of color. "How do you know that?"
He stared at Adrian in disbelief. This wasn't something anyone could just guess—these were memories, his past. Could Supergirl have been right? Was Adrian a traveler from another world or time?
No… impossible. It was too absurd.
Dozens of thoughts collided in Hal's mind.
Meanwhile, young Hal tugged at Adrian's sleeve, eyes wide with excitement. "Mister Adrian, can we do that again? I was scared at first, but I think I can beat my fear this time!"
He looked up with open admiration. "Are you a god? No human could move that fast! You went from the bridge to under it in a blink!"
Before Adrian could respond, the boy kept talking. "This reminds me of when I climbed the flagpole at Yal Aviation. I slid down like a firefighter—it felt amazing! But that? That was real flying!"
Adrian gave him a long look, then glanced at Hal—the adult.
His expression said everything: You were this reckless as a kid?
Hal sighed, rubbing his forehead in embarrassment. Great. He's never going to let this go.
Watching his younger self idolize Adrian was pure torment.
After Adrian left Coast City, he returned to Kent Farm, only to find Clark sitting alone on the wooden steps outside the house, his expression heavy with worry.
"You look awful," Adrian said. "Didn't sleep?"
Clark shook his head. "Not a minute."
Adrian folded his arms. "Is it Kara, Hal, and Wonder Woman? If that's what's bothering you, relax. They might clash with us sometimes, but they're not villains."
Clark looked up, his voice quieter now. "It's not them, Adrian. I saw my father last night."
Adrian blinked. "Your father? Jor-El?"
Clark nodded. "Come with me."
The house was empty—Jonathan and Martha had gone out—so Clark led Adrian straight into the barn.
"When he spoke," Clark said, stopping near the hidden cellar, "it sounded like the voice came from the ship, but I could also hear it inside my mind. He told me… 'It's time.'"
"Time for what?" Adrian asked, frowning.
"To leave Smallville. To fulfill my destiny."
"Your destiny?" Adrian asked. "And what's that supposed to be?"
"I don't know," Clark said with frustration. "Whatever he wants, it's not something I'm interested in. I don't care about conquering the world or ruling planets."
He stared at the cellar door, his hand tightening on a wooden beam until deep dents formed beneath his fingers. "Everything's finally good. The farm's debt is gone. You're writing again. Mom's happy. Dad's proud." He exhaled shakily. "Why now?"
Adrian watched quietly.
"If I could," Clark said suddenly, his eyes fierce, "I'd destroy it."
Adrian raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed by his brother's resolve.
"I admire your courage, Clark," he said. "But don't destroy something until you have the strength to control the consequences."
"I know." Clark nodded, his expression softening for a moment. "But I can't ignore it. That ship wants to control me, Adrian. I can feel it. I don't know how long I can resist—or when it'll act again. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow."
He turned, meeting Adrian's eyes. "I need your help. You're the only one who can stop me."
Adrian hesitated, thinking for a long moment. "I will help you, Clark. But not right now. You need to calm down first."
"I am calm," Clark insisted. "If I lose control—if I become dangerous—you'll stop me, right?"
Adrian looked at him steadily. "Of course."
"Even if it means destroying me?" Clark's eyes glimmered with something unreadable.
"No one's destroying you, Clark."
"Who knows?" Clark said softly, turning toward the sunset.
"When I was a kid," he began, "I loved zombie movies. Still do. Not because they scare me—nothing like that can scare me now. What frightened me was how the heroes always lost their friends. One by one, they'd die… or worse, turn. People who were once family would suddenly attack each other."
He looked at Adrian, his expression raw. "I don't want to become one of them. If I ever lose control, I need you to stop me—like you'd stop an infected zombie."
Adrian was silent for several seconds before replying quietly, "Yeah, I will."
The barn was bathed in the deep red of sunset, warm light spilling through the wooden cracks.
Clark stared at the horizon. "I don't know," he murmured, "if this will be the last sunset I ever see."
Adrian turned to leave. "Then let's hope it isn't," he said quietly. "Maybe it's just another sunset."
Clark's gaze followed him. "Adrian… thank you."
Adrian stopped. "For what?"
"For trusting me."
He didn't reply. He simply walked away.
Clark watched him go, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the barn. Then, turning toward the cellar, his expression hardened.
"No one controls my life," he whispered.
He took a step forward—then staggered. A sharp, searing pain tore through his mind, making him clutch his head as everything around him blurred.
The world tilted into darkness.
---