Months had passed since Brandon Breyer dove into New York life, his relationship with Gwen Stacy growing intense. His nineteenth birthday was approaching, and he decided to spend it where it all began-on the Kansas farm with his parents. He wanted a break from the city's chaos, from secrets and powers that sometimes felt like an invisible weight. He stayed with Tori and Kyle for a few days, savoring the simplicity of home-cooked meals and the smell of hay.
The day before his birthday, he went for a walk. He headed to Brightburn, the small town he knew like the back of his hand, curious if anything had changed. The streets looked almost the same-the same cafe, the same repair shop, though the signs had fresh paint. As he turned onto the main street, his eyes landed on a familiar figure. Caitlyn. The same Caitlyn whose arm he'd accidentally broken years ago in a lapse of control.
She stood at a market stall, inspecting apples. When she saw him, her eyes widened for a split second, but she quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. Brandon approached, and she, with no choice, straightened and forced a smile.
"Brandon… good to see you," she said, her voice tight, her gaze avoiding his.
"Hey, Caitlyn," he replied calmly, with a faint smile. "Good to see you too."
She didn't linger. With a quick "I gotta go," she hurried off, nearly knocking over a basket of fruit. Brandon watched her disappear around the corner. He shrugged and walked on.
The next day, his birthday, the house was filled with the aroma of Tori's baking. At dinner, Brandon sat with his parents, sipping lemonade and answering their questions about New York. He talked about college, engineering, parties, carefully sidestepping Gwen and his powers. Tori smiled, probing for details, while Kyle joked that "the city's probably scared of him by now." The conversation was light, mundane, but Brandon sensed something in the air.
After dinner, exhausted, he went to his old room. He fell asleep quickly, but the dream that came was different. No blood, no laughter, no void. He stood in a black abyss, a voice echoing around him-low, metallic, in a language he couldn't understand. It sounded like a command, a summons, but the words dissolved before he could grasp them.
He woke with a shout, but he wasn't in bed. He stood barefoot in the shed, before his ship-the one that brought him to Earth. His eyes burned blood-red, reflecting off the metallic surface. One hand touched the hull, and the ship hummed faintly, as if responding. That was the moment his forgotten memories came back to him, memories he wanted to forget.