Late at night, beneath the dim glow of scattered streetlights, Jonathan Kent guided his pickup truck along a quiet suburban road. The engine hummed steadily, but his expression carried a lingering sadness that refused to fade.
A great deal had happened over the past few days.
His eldest son had suddenly lost his abilities, something that left the entire family unsettled. At the same time, the younger one had revealed that he had secretly possessed extraordinary powers for years. After learning that Avery had fled to Gotham, Victor had immediately left town to pursue him.
Jonathan still wasn't sure how he felt about all of it.
Fortunately, Victor had called home several times over the past two or three days. Hearing his son's calm voice on the phone had eased both his and Martha's worries.
"I heard earlier tonight that Victor already found Avery," Jonathan murmured quietly to himself. "He should be coming back soon."
The thought lightened the heaviness on his face slightly.
Behind him, a battered blue sedan suddenly began honking its horn loudly.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The impatient driver clearly wanted him to move aside.
Jonathan frowned but turned the steering wheel to shift his truck toward the shoulder of the road. Yet even as he did so, the horn behind him continued blasting without pause, as if the driver's seat were on fire.
"Hey, buddy!" Jonathan called through his open window when the car finally pulled up beside him. "There's no need to rush like that."
The other driver didn't respond at all.
Inside the vehicle sat a slightly disheveled middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat. He had the absent-minded air of a scholar who had forgotten the world outside his research. His hands trembled with excitement as he spoke rapidly into a phone.
"Richard, I did it!" he shouted excitedly. "I really did it! Hahaha!"
On the passenger seat sat a sealed glass container.
Inside it was a strange flower resembling a sunflower, though its petals had an unusual shape and faint green light shimmered softly along its surface.
The man kept glancing at the jar as he spoke, his eyes burning with obsession, as though he were staring at the greatest scientific discovery of the century.
"Do you know what time it is, Hamilton?" the voice on the other end of the phone grumbled tiredly. "I just finished dinner and was about to sleep. You're calling me at this hour?"
Hamilton ignored the complaint entirely.
"Listen to me! I succeeded!" he exclaimed. "Well… technically I only succeeded halfway. But it's enough to restore my reputation!"
Years ago, Hamilton had been considered one of the brightest rising stars in the scientific community. As a young researcher, he had joined a nationally funded team studying lunar samples brought back by the Apollo missions. Many scientists believed it was only a matter of time before he won a Nobel Prize.
Then he published a controversial paper.
Its title was simple:
The Influence of Meteorites on Genetic Mutation and Evolution.
The theory proposed that extraterrestrial minerals could trigger dramatic genetic changes in Earth-based organisms.
Without concrete evidence, the scientific community reacted harshly. His peers dismissed the idea as fantasy and declared him insane.
Funding vanished overnight. Honors disappeared. His career collapsed.
Eventually Hamilton returned to his hometown, isolating himself in a remote forest laboratory where he continued his research in obscurity.
"I finally did it!" Hamilton continued excitedly. "Using meteorite fragments, I successfully altered the genes of a locally extinct flower called the Devil's Flower. It used to require an extremely harsh environment to grow, but now it can survive even in ordinary soil."
"You have to see it," he insisted. "Help me publish the results. I can reclaim everything I lost."
"Devil's Flower?" the voice replied skeptically. "That doesn't sound like a pleasant name."
"That's not the point!" Hamilton said impatiently. "Do you understand what this means? I'll—"
His excitement surged like a tidal wave.
His pupils widened with intensity.
But at that exact moment, a loose stone on the dark highway struck his tire.
Hamilton had been steering with only one hand while holding the phone in the other. The sudden impact jerked the wheel violently.
The car lost control.
"No!"
Facing the steep slope beside the road, Hamilton stared in terror.
Bang!
The vehicle ran off the roadside embankment, spun violently, and crashed upside down.
Screech—
Jonathan slammed his brakes, stopping the pickup truck immediately.
"Oh my God."
Seeing the devastating accident ahead, Jonathan didn't hesitate for a second. Even though the driver had just been rudely honking at him moments earlier, there was no trace of resentment in his heart.
He rushed forward to help.
After struggling to pull the unconscious man from the overturned vehicle, Jonathan carefully dragged him away from the wreckage. Blood trickled from the man's forehead as he lay motionless.
Only then did Jonathan notice the broken glass container lying nearby.
The strange flower had spilled out onto the ground.
Its petals were enormous, nearly the size of a dinner plate, glowing faintly like a pale yellow moon with a soft green shimmer.
As Jonathan leaned closer, he smelled a faint, unfamiliar fragrance.
A sudden warmth spread through his body.
He didn't notice it.
After dragging the injured man farther from the vehicle, which had begun to catch fire, Jonathan wiped sweat from his brow and quickly dialed 911.
…
Inside Gotham.
Heavy curtains blocked the night outside, leaving the luxurious bedroom cloaked in darkness. A massive bed filled the center of the room.
Avery Reagan lounged comfortably with his shirt off, revealing a muscular upper body. Two glamorous models clung to him eagerly, feeding him fruit like devoted attendants while he played a video game projected onto a giant screen.
On the screen, a tiny soldier wielding a machine gun mowed down waves of enemies.
The fast-paced chaos of the game thrilled him.
Everything had unfolded exactly as planned.
After arriving in Gotham, Avery had relied on the godlike strength granted to him by the lightning strike. Within days, he had conquered one of the city's largest criminal organizations and transformed it into his personal playground.
The luxurious lifestyle surrounding him now was something he had never even dreamed of before.
But it wasn't enough.
His fingers tapped the controller rapidly as a burning intensity flashed in his eyes.
Meteorites.
They were his weakness.
Until he removed them from the world entirely, it would always feel like a stone pressing against his chest, preventing him from truly enjoying his power.
"Falcone has almost gathered the money and manpower," Avery muttered.
Once he collected every meteorite fragment owned by the residents of Smallville and dug up every remaining piece buried beneath the town, nothing on Earth would be capable of stopping him.
There would be no need to hide anymore.
The entire planet would become his playground.
"And then," Avery whispered with a cruel grin, "I can do whatever I want."
His on-screen character unleashed a barrage of gunfire.
A savage excitement filled Avery's face, the expression of someone who imagined himself as a ruler about to conquer a nation.
The two models beside him exchanged nervous glances.
Bang!
The bedroom window exploded inward.
Glass shards scattered across the floor as a dark figure burst through the opening, cape spread wide like bat wings.
…
"Who's there?!"
"Assassin! Protect the boss!"
Chaos erupted instantly.
Armed men rushed forward, drawing their weapons and pointing them toward the intruder.
Outside the manor, several ancient stone buildings stood scattered across the grounds. Among them, only one window still glowed with bright light.
Through the curtain gap, Victor had spotted several figures inside the room discussing something quietly.
Rather than waste time dealing with the armed guards and attack dogs patrolling the estate, he simply bent his knees and released an explosive burst of power.
He crossed more than seventy meters in a single leap.
Like a cannonball, he smashed straight through the window.
Glass fragments exploded across the room.
Victor stepped forward calmly.
"Are you Carmine Falcone?"
Everyone in the room stared at him in horror.
"This is the fifth floor!" someone shouted in disbelief. "How did he even get up here?"
Falcone's men quickly raised their guns.
"Shoot him!" someone screamed. "Kill him!"
Several guards burst into the room carrying submachine guns. Together with the men already inside, they opened fire.
Da-da-da-da!
The deafening rattle of automatic gunfire filled the room like a furious typewriter.
Bullets slammed into Victor's body.
None of them pierced his clothes.
Every round fell harmlessly to the floor.
Victor didn't even flinch.
He watched calmly as Falcone attempted to escape toward the door while several bodyguards tried to cover him.
Victor reached beside him and lifted a massive mahogany desk with one hand.
The heavy wooden furniture weighed several hundred kilograms.
With a casual motion, he hurled it across the room.
The desk roared through the air, flying more than six meters before smashing into the doorway. Two men holding submachine guns were crushed instantly, their bodies thrown aside as the wreckage blocked the exit.
The entire room fell silent.
Shock froze every face present.
Falcone's expression stiffened.
"You haven't answered my question yet."
Victor looked down at him coldly.
The gap between them felt like the difference between an elephant and an ant. The overwhelming pressure radiating from Victor's presence made it difficult for anyone in the room to breathe.
"That's enough, you idiots!" Falcone shouted suddenly. "Stop shooting!"
Pretending to scold his men, Falcone lowered his head slightly and placed a hand over his chest.
A respectful smile appeared on his face.
"Sir," he said politely, "I am Carmine Falcone. How may I help you?"
The humility in his tone made him sound less like a feared crime lord and more like a courteous broker greeting an important client.
Victor raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You have someone unusual here," he said. "Where is he?"
"Of course," Falcone replied smoothly. "He's right here—"
Falcone's heart burned with sudden excitement.
The moment he saw Victor's incredible power, a thought had flashed through his mind.
In just a few days, two bulletproof monsters had appeared in his manor.
Could they be connected?
If he played his cards correctly, he might finally free himself from Avery's control.
But before he could finish speaking—
A thunderous roar erupted outside the shattered window.
In another building of the manor, flames suddenly burst from a room.
A dark figure glided downward through the night air, cape spread like wings, landing awkwardly in the courtyard below.
Falcone stared out the broken window.
His voice trembled slightly as he pointed.
"H-he's in that room."
....
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