"Is that so?"
Adrian's voice was calm, detached, and carried the weight of quiet authority. His piercing eyes never wavered, even as Ms. Aikins leaned closer, her lips trembling with anticipation.
"You put on this cold front," she said softly, brushing her fingers against his jaw. "Pretending you don't want anyone near you—it's your way of playing mysterious. I'll admit it worked. I was… drawn to you."
Her tone melted into a whisper as she tilted her head upward. Her breath carried a faint pink mist, laced with intoxicating perfume and something far more dangerous—an unnatural, cloying scent beneath the sweetness.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a sharp sound echoed through the room.
Adrian's hand shot up, gripping her chin firmly, stopping her in her tracks.
"Generally," he said in a low, measured voice, "I don't like being the prey. I admit you're beautiful."
He released her, his eyes glimmering with a faint orange-red light that pulsed like embers in the dark. "But I have a habit of eliminating threats at the source."
The confidence in his voice sent a shiver racing down Ms. Aikins's spine. She stumbled back, terror replacing seduction as she stared into those glowing eyes.
How was this possible?
Her charm, Her gifts had never failed before. The mist she exhaled could bend almost any man's will, filling them with blind obedience. But the boy standing before her wasn't swayed in the slightest. He looked at her the way a lion might regard a mouse—curious, but utterly in control.
Before she could say anything, a knock sounded on the door.
"Ms. Aikins? It's Chloe. I wanted to ask you something."
Ms. Aikins nearly jumped at the sound. Grateful for the interruption, she darted to the door, fumbling with the lock before flinging it open and practically stumbling out.
Chloe and Pete exchanged glances as she rushed past, her expression pale and disoriented.
"What just happened?" Chloe whispered, watching her teacher hurry down the hall.
Clark, who had overheard fragments of the encounter through the wall, frowned slightly. "I'm… not sure," he said slowly. "But I don't think Adrian was the one in trouble."
Pete smirked. "Well, Chloe, your timing was perfect. Whatever that was, you probably saved it from going in a very wrong direction."
Chloe folded her arms. "You mean Adrian tried something inappropriate?"
Pete shrugged. "Didn't say that. Ask Clark."
Clark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know what happened, but… something's off about Ms. Aikins."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Off? Clark, you were practically staring holes into her during biology class. Are you saying all attractive teachers are suspicious now?"
Clark chuckled weakly. "I'm not a philosopher, Chloe."
She grinned, her eyes glinting playfully. "Oh, quoting Nietzsche to dodge questions, are we? 'Those who gaze too long into the abyss—'"
"Please don't," Clark interrupted, embarrassed.
Chloe smirked and patted his arm. "Relax, Clark. Nietzsche didn't believe in love anyway. He thought attraction between men and women was just biology. So it's normal to be a little distracted by Ms. Aikins. Doesn't mean anything."
Clark could only sigh. Talking philosophy with Chloe was a battle he'd never win.
---
That night, the halls of Smallville High were silent except for the faint click-clack of high heels echoing down the corridor.
Ms. Aikins's heart still raced. The memory of those burning red eyes haunted her. Why had her powers failed? What kind of monster could resist her charm—let alone turn it against her?
She turned a corner—and froze.
A figure stood at the end of the hallway, half-shrouded in darkness. Two crimson lights shimmered faintly from the shadows like the eyes of a beast.
"Ms. Aikins," came a low voice, smooth but filled with quiet menace.
Her breath caught in her throat as Adrian stepped forward, the glow in his eyes dimming but not vanishing completely. His face was calm, unreadable.
"You seem uneasy."
"Wh–Who are you?" she stammered, instinctively backing away.
"I could ask the same," Adrian replied, his voice sharp but curious. "Your little party trick earlier was interesting—an ability to control the opposite sex, like Poison Ivy, perhaps?"
He took another step forward, and the pressure in the hallway grew heavy, suffocating. "Originally, I thought about crushing you like an insect."
Her body trembled as he stopped just in front of her. His gloved hand rose and brushed lightly against her cheek. The touch was soft, yet she felt the raw power behind it—a power that could kill her in an instant.
"No… please," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Don't kill me. I'll do anything."
Her desperation twisted into reckless fear. Trembling, she began unbuttoning her blouse, her voice breaking. "You can have me… anything you want."
Adrian froze. His gaze hardened, but for a split second, his body reacted—a surge of primal heat rushed through his veins. His Homelander-like instincts pushed at the edge of control, whispering temptation.
But he resisted.
He took a long, steady breath, stepping back. "You're still useful to me," he said coldly. "So I won't kill you."
Her eyes widened. "Useful?"
"You're going to help me understand what you are. But keep one thing in mind—" His tone darkened. "I don't tolerate disobedience."
Raising his hand slightly, a faint red glow flickered from his eyes. A beam of Heat Vision, no stronger than a thin thread, etched across her skin with surgical precision. She gasped, not from agony, but from the strange, tingling sensation of pain mixed with pleasure.
When he stopped, faint markings remained—letters burned into her flesh, glowing dimly before fading.
"These marks," Adrian said evenly, "are a reminder. I can find you, control you, end you—whenever I choose."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away,
Ms. Aikins collapsed against the wall, trembling as she clutched her chest. Her eyes darted downward.
The letters burned faintly beneath the fabric: HOMELANDER.
She didn't know what it meant, but she knew one thing—she had narrowly escaped something far worse than death.
As the sound of his footsteps faded into the night, the corridor grew cold again, and Ms. Aikins finally allowed herself to breathe.
______
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