Smallville Mental Asylum held its silence like a living thing, heavy and suffocating.
Lex Luthor stood in line, shackles weighing down his wrists and ankles as he waited for his medication. The metal dragged faintly across the floor each time he shifted, a constant reminder of his last failed escape attempt. The punishment had been severe, but he preferred this to isolation. At least here, he could still see people, still feel something. Confinement in darkness had felt far closer to death.
"Next!"
The sharp voice of the nurse cut through the room.
Lex stepped forward, the chains clinking softly with each movement.
"Mr. Luthor," the middle-aged nurse said, her tone hard, "if you spit those pills out again, I will personally force a whole bottle down your throat."
Lex ignored her. He took the tray, lifted the cup, and swallowed the pills in one smooth motion. Then he opened his mouth without protest.
She leaned in, inspecting carefully. After a moment, she nodded.
"Move along."
Lex turned away, dragging his shackles down the corridor. His destination was the common room. It was the only place where the outside world still existed for him, flickering through a screen.
When he arrived, he lowered himself slowly into a chair, gripping the armrest for support. A few steady breaths later, his eyes locked onto the television.
The news was already in progress.
Adrian.
The screen showed him in the middle of a battle, green light radiating faintly from his body as energy constructs formed from the ring on his finger. Reports spoke of a coordinated crackdown on superpowered criminals involved in terrorist attacks across Gotham and Metropolis. The government, backed by enhanced operatives and military force, had begun a sweeping suppression campaign.
Lex watched in silence, then shook his head slightly.
"The President," he murmured under his breath.
The image stirred something buried deep in his mind.
A memory. Or perhaps a hallucination.
He saw himself standing inside the Oval Office, the sky beyond the windows dark and swollen with storm clouds. The air had felt heavy, like something inevitable was approaching. Then the scene shifted.
He stepped outside.
The ground had transformed into a vast field of sunflowers, stretching endlessly beneath a muted sky. Their bright yellow petals swayed gently.
Lex reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed one, it withered. The life drained from it instantly, the petals collapsing into nothing.
One by one, the sunflowers vanished.
In their place remained a field of white bones.
"Slap!"
A sudden touch jolted him back to reality.
Lex blinked and looked up. An attendant stood beside him, hand still resting on his shoulder.
"It's time for your psychiatric evaluation," the man said. "Get up."
Lex exhaled slowly and rose to his feet. The chains followed.
The asylum enforced weekly evaluations. Mandatory. Pointless, in his opinion. No amount of observation or questioning could fix what they believed was broken.
Still, he played along.
Step by step, he followed the attendant down the corridor.
When they stopped in front of a door, Lex felt it. A faint, creeping unease that settled deep in his chest. The light from inside spilled into the hallway, contrasting sharply with the cold steel of the door.
The attendant opened it.
Inside sat a woman.
She wore a clean psychiatrist's uniform, black-rimmed glasses resting neatly on her face. Her posture was relaxed, but her gaze was sharp, fixed entirely on him with unmistakable interest.
Lex frowned as he stepped inside and took a seat across from her.
"You're new," he said. "The last psychiatrist wasn't you."
She smiled faintly.
"From now on, it's me. You can call me Dr. Quinn."
Lex repeated the name, studying her.
"So you're responsible for evaluating the patients here?"
"Yes," she replied calmly. "That includes you, Mr. Luthor."
"I am not a patient," Lex said evenly. "Even if I was before, I've recovered."
He kept his tone controlled, measured. He had learned restraint. Anger would only keep him here longer.
"I made mistakes," he continued. "My emotions were unstable. I doubted everything, even my own father. But I've changed. I see things clearly now. Rationally."
Dr. Quinn reached for a file, flipping it open as if reviewing his history.
"You once claimed your father, Lionel Luthor, murdered his own parents to inherit their estate," she said casually. "That is quite the accusation. Tell me, is that ambition typical in your family, or is it something more... instinctive?"
"That was delusion," Lex replied without hesitation. "I wasn't well at the time. You cannot hold someone accountable for every word spoken during mental instability."
"Not necessarily," she said, her smile sharpening slightly. "Sometimes truth hides beneath instability. Sometimes it waits for someone else to uncover it."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Sanity isn't measured by how well someone speaks or behaves. It's measured by what lies behind the eyes."
Her gaze locked onto his.
"And yours," she said softly, "are full of madness."
Lex remained still, but his muscles tensed.
"Ambition," she continued. "Desire. A refusal to accept limits. If you were free, you would not stop. You would reshape everything around you."
Her finger lifted and lightly touched just beneath his eye.
"And that," she said, almost delighted, "is fascinating."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"This world needs people like you."
Lex stood abruptly, the chains rattling.
"You're not a psychiatrist," he said, suspicion rising. "Who are you?"
"I am exactly what I claim to be," she replied, her smile widening. "Licensed. Qualified. And assigned to you."
She tilted her head slightly.
"My diagnosis is simple. Your condition remains severe. You are not leaving this place anytime soon."
The words hit harder than any restraint.
"No," Lex snapped, his composure breaking. "You can't do that. I'm fine. You're the one who's unstable."
His voice rose.
"I can see it in you. You're not here to help anyone. You're here to spread chaos."
He took a step forward, eyes burning with intensity.
"Look at the world," he continued. "Someone who should not exist now sits at the top, controlling everything, and people accept it. They celebrate it. That is insanity."
His voice echoed in the room.
"You call me mad, but I'm the only one who sees it clearly. This world is broken, and you're all too blind to admit it."
His breathing grew heavier.
"And you think you can keep me locked in here?"
He shook his head, a cold certainty settling into his expression.
"That will never happen."