"What? You're going to Gotham?"
Martha's voice broke the calm of the Kent farmhouse kitchen, laced with worry as she looked at her eldest son.
"It's just a four-day book promotion event," Adrian said lightly, his tone steady but calm, the kind of assurance that made others want to believe him. "It'll be over before you know it. Mr. Anthony from the publishing house will be there with me, so you and Dad don't have to worry."
Martha wasn't convinced. She reached across the table and took his hand. "You've never been that far from home—especially not to Gotham. You know what they say about that city. It's not like Metropolis. Crime runs deeper there. Maybe your father could go with you."
Jonathan chuckled, setting down his coffee mug. "I get it, Martha. Gotham's not exactly the safest place on the map. But I think our boy can handle himself."
"He's not a boy, Martha," he added gently. "He's grown, even if you don't want to admit it."
"He's still not an adult," she argued, frowning.
Jonathan's grin widened. "For ordinary folks, maybe not. But for Adrian and Clark—trust me, their coming-of-age happened a long time ago."
Martha blinked. "When exactly?"
Jonathan leaned back, clearly amused. "When they secretly tried whiskey behind the barn."
Martha's eyes went wide. "They what?"
"You see?" Jonathan laughed. "Things happen when we're not looking. We can't protect them from every mistake. Sometimes you've got to let go and let them figure it out. That's how they grow."
Adrian's expression stayed carefully neutral, though there was a flicker of amusement—and faint guilt—in his eyes. Across the table, Clark looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.
He hadn't drunk the whiskey; he'd only sniffed it. Adrian had convinced him to, calling it "a cultural experience."
After dinner, and after some reluctant sighs from Martha, his parents finally agreed—Adrian could go to Gotham for the publishing event.
Clark, sitting silently nearby, tried to hide his envy. He wanted to see Gotham too. The city was wild and unpredictable—so different from the peaceful fields of Smallville. But the way his parents fussed over Adrian made it clear they wouldn't let him go anytime soon.
Later that night, Adrian sat by the kitchen window, watching the moonlight spill across the farmland. The fields shimmered under silver light—quiet, still, and safe. Too safe.
The "book promotion" wasn't a lie. Metropolis University Press had invited him for an event. But the destination wasn't Gotham. He had changed that himself, insisting on covering the extra costs. The publishing staff had been surprised, but they hadn't argued.
He wanted—no, needed—to see Gotham.
The city where chaos breathed. The city where power meant survival.
Adrian smiled faintly, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. "Gotham," he murmured. "Let's see what you're really like."
---
The next morning, the house felt emptier than usual.
Clark noticed it first.
At breakfast, the seat beside him was empty. Adrian's mug sat on the counter, washed and neatly turned upside down. Clark stared at it longer than he meant to, feeling something unfamiliar—a kind of quiet loneliness.
By the time he got to school, he was still distracted.
"Clark," Chloe said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Earth to Kent?"
He blinked. "Sorry, just thinking."
"About your brother?"
Chloe adjusted her bag and gave him a teasing smirk. "I thought Adrian hated being in the public eye. A book promotion event? In Gotham? That doesn't sound like him."
Clark nodded slowly. "Normally, yeah. Unless… he had another reason."
"Another reason?"
Clark shrugged. "I don't know yet."
Before Chloe could press him, Pete came bounding over, grinning as he pointed to a banner hanging above the hallway.
"Graduation Ring Sale Day! Even underclassmen can buy one this year."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Oh joy. Another overpriced symbol of teenage nostalgia."
Still, she walked over and tried on a silver ring with a ruby set into its face. It glimmered under the fluorescent light.
"It actually looks good on me," she said, admiring her reflection. "Nothing says 'school spirit' like bling that costs three hundred and fifty bucks."
Clark chuckled, picking up a similar ring. "My money, my choice. I earned it myself, so Dad can't complain."
As he slid the ring onto his finger, something pulsed beneath his skin.
A faint red light flickered, unseen by anyone else. It spread from his hand to his arm, rippling through his body like molten energy.
Clark froze. His eyes flashed crimson for a brief second before returning to normal.
Suddenly, everything felt sharper—voices, colors, sensations. His heart pounded with a rhythm that didn't feel like his own. A rush of emotions flooded him—aggression, confidence, arrogance, hunger.
It was intoxicating.
"Clark?" Pete frowned. "You okay?"
Clark smiled, too wide and too sharp. "Never better."
Without another word, he turned and spotted Lana down the hallway. But instead of walking to her, he veered toward a new student standing beside her—a girl with dark smoky eye makeup and a rebellious air.
"Hey," he said smoothly, his voice suddenly different—cooler, more confident. "I'm Clark. New here?"
The girl arched a brow. "Jessica. Transfer student."
Lana blinked, taken aback. The Clark she knew couldn't even look her in the eye without blushing.
Clark grinned. "That outfit's bold. Cooler than anything I've seen around here."
Jessica laughed. "Thanks. Smallville High has a strict dress code, though. I'm probably already breaking ten rules."
"Our principal's the one who's outdated," Clark replied, leaning casually against a locker. "Half the rules here were written before the internet existed."
Jessica smirked. "Glad someone agrees." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nice to meet you, Clark. You've got a different vibe from most people here."
She walked off with Lana, leaving Clark watching her with a grin that didn't feel like his own.
"This feels… good," he whispered.
Then his gaze shifted. Ms. Aikins, their literature teacher, was walking down the hallway, arms full of books. Clark's attention locked onto her like a predator spotting prey.
Someone bumped into him from the side—a student running late.
The boy barely touched him, but Clark spun around, grabbed the student by the collar, and slammed him into a locker. The metal shrieked on impact.
"You looking for trouble?" Clark growled, eyes burning faintly red.
The student froze, too terrified to respond.
Around them, the hallway went dead silent. Chloe and Pete stared in disbelief.
"Clark…" Pete whispered. "What the hell was that?"
Chloe's eyes widened as Clark dropped the student and strode away, a faint smirk curling at his lips.
That wasn't Clark.
Not the one they knew.
Somewhere far away, in the middle of a highway leading toward Gotham, Adrian looked out the car window, watching the skyline of a city cloaked in storm clouds.
He smiled faintly, unaware of what was happening back home.
---