Gotham, early morning.
Bruce Wayne stood before the glass wall, watching the mist cling to the cold dawn. With a finger, he traced an abstract symbol on the foggy surface. The warmth inside dissolved the mark almost as soon as it was made.
"Master Wayne, you are unusually early today," Alfred said, appearing beside him with a steaming cup of tea.
Bruce, dressed in simple casual clothes, glanced out at the manor grounds cloaked in pale morning light. "It's only ten minutes earlier than usual."
Alfred offered the tea with a knowing look. "Once a person's biological clock is formed, it doesn't change easily. Batman hunts after dusk. His cycle shifts by mere seconds each day in summer, but never enough to make a true difference."
Bruce took the cup without looking at it. "Then you know I'm in a bad mood."
Alfred didn't need to look at him to understand. "Your schedule has drifted. That's always a sign."
"Since my parents died," Bruce replied, turning to face the manor, "my mind has mostly stayed in shades of gray. Not good, not bad. Just… constant."
Alfred nodded silently.
"Some of my friends have left," Bruce continued, his voice flat.
"Friends who claimed they had returned from the future?" Alfred guessed easily.
Bruce closed his eyes. "Yes. They're gone now."
It was more than simple departure. Bruce felt the absence deep in his bones.
"Like a ship losing crew members in a storm," he murmured, "even though you know sooner or later someone will fall away."
Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder. "We live in a reality stitched from the past. The future is woven by what we do now."
"I know," Bruce said, turning away. "I've never relied on destiny like a map."
He set his cup down, hardly touched, and headed toward the entrance to the underground base.
"I can't enjoy hot tea right now, Alfred," he said over his shoulder.
Inside the batcave, he retrieved a small fragment of green kryptonite from its secure container. Supergirl had once told him that this mineral, forged from their doomed world, was kryptonian weakness incarnate. Exposure could weaken them, or worse.
Of all the dangers the future might bring, Bruce knew this piece might be needed.
Adrian and Clark were both Kryptonians too…
He paused, looking at the glowing green shard in his hand.
This could hurt them just as easily as any threat from a future invasion.
Bruce set the kryptonite down and turned to the supercomputer. He pulled up the data from the 1906 San Francisco earthquake he'd studied the day before.
The images on the screen made his jaw tighten.
He had seen Adrian in his berserk transformation—skin warped with bone-like spurs, eyes wild with an instinct to destroy. One look at that monster had been enough to chill his blood.
Compared to what Adrian had become, or what Clark might become, Bruce found his concern shifting.
What if either of them lost control again? Through manipulation or circumstance, if their minds snapped, what would they do?
"Superman and destruction…" he whispered with bitter frustration.
Bruce stared at the monitor, brow tightly furrowed.
Metropolis University
Night had fallen. In the quiet of the girls' dormitory, Betty jolted awake, drenched in sweat and breathing fast.
Her back was soaked. In the dim glow of the rainy night, she pushed tangled hair from her face, her eyes wide with lingering fear.
She'd dreamt again—of that night.
Of screaming, of blood, of jumping from the second-floor window with her friends, trying to escape the masked killer chasing them.
She had reasoned, by behavior and instinct, that the killer was Adrian—but without proof, she'd never told the police.
Then the chaos after.
Adrian had been accused of murder. The warrant had vanished as suddenly as it appeared. The press said he'd been cleared.
The whole thing made no sense to her.
She and her roommate had moved off-campus to get away from all of it, afraid Adrian might come after her if he believed she cooperated with the police.
She wasn't sure if what Adrian had killed was even human—but without evidence, she couldn't convince anyone.
Betty sighed, exhausted.
She slipped out of bed and peeled off her sleepwear, revealing her toned, curvaceous body in the mirror. Even she couldn't deny she looked striking.
She stepped into the shower, turning the hot water on to wash away the lingering fear.
Outside, thunder rumbled. Rain drummed against the windows like a warning.
The warm water cascaded over her skin, releasing both stress and apprehension.
Boom!
Lightning cracked across the sky. The lights blinked and went out. The water stopped.
"Perfect," Betty muttered as she wrapped a towel around herself.
She stepped out into the darkened room.
"Great. All my bad luck for one day gathered at once."
She fumbled her way across the dorm, calling out for her roommate.
"Trini? Power's out. Candles anywhere?"
No answer.
She counted on the small cabinet near the dresser. Candles should be in the bottom drawer.
As she opened it, something brushed past her shoulder.
She froze.
Nothing there.
Betty exhaled shakily, trying to dismiss her imagination.
She wiped the mirror and opened her makeup case.
As she closed it, her eyes caught something in the glass—an indistinct shadow behind her.
Long hair, distorted shape, an aura that made her blood chill.
"Aah!"
Her scream cut through the quiet.
Her roommate, awakened by the shriek, ran out.
"Betty! Betty!"
She pushed open the room door only to find Betty lying on the floor, blood trickling from her mouth.
The roommate screamed and dialed the police.
Another thunderclap echoed into the night.
Kent Farm
The rain was relentless. Clark and Martha were at the hospital, watching over an unconscious Jonathan.
In the empty farmhouse, Adrian stood by the window, staring into the downpour, phone to his ear.
"Jenna, are you still at the hospital with your brother?"
Flowers of worry filled his voice.
"Yes," Jenna replied, excitement lacing her tone. "He's improving so fast! He'll thank you as soon as he's better."
Jenna, who loved gadgets more than most people, added happily, "And thank you for the phone! I can grant you any wish! Want cats? Dogs? Raccoons? I can transform into any part of an animal you choose! Cats have the softest paws… dogs have claws…"
"No," Adrian cut in sharply. "Stop."
There was one thing he needed to know.
He unfolded the front page of the Daily Planet—the headline was about the temporary suspension of a state election. On the back page was another story—the mysterious vigilante in Metropolis, labeled the "Avenging Angel."
A masked figure in spandex fighting crime.
Adrian had never heard of such a hero in the DC world.
"Jenna, are you the Avenging Angel?" he asked.
"No, but I've heard of her!" Jenna gushed. "She fights criminals in the streets. Imagine punching gang members without fear of punishment or exposure! How cool would that be?"
"You just want trouble without consequences," Adrian muttered before hanging up.
Not Jenna.
Not Green Lantern Jenna.
Then who was this Angel?
And why hadn't he heard of her?
If someone kept appearing in Metropolis outside his control, it bothered him.
After his conflict with Trigon, Adrian knew power alone wasn't enough. He needed forces he could trust—tools he could shape.
Jenna, Bart, the Wonder Twins—tools to build his foundation in Metropolis.
No one could operate beyond his influence.
A random hero popping up wasn't just annoying—it was unaccounted for.
Thunder cracked again.
Above the noise, Rachel on the second floor began to cry.
Adrian's attention snapped to her.
He sprinted up the stairs in a blur.
In Rachel's crib, she sobbed.
First instinct, check if she needed changing.
No.
She only cried when truly upset.
"Scared of thunder?" Adrian murmured as he lifted her and soothed her into calm.
Eventually, he carried her into his room, laying her on the bed. She settled, sleep returning.
He turned off the light and prepared for sleep too.
Hours passed.
Lightning lashed the sky.
At midnight, Adrian snapped awake.
Rachel was gone.
He tracked her scent to a corner.
There she sat, reaching for a low shelf book—far beyond her height.
He knelt, picked her up gently, and looked at the books.
One was his illustrated collection on cosmic horrors.
The other made him frown—an old book of black magic he'd once acquired from the Metropolis Owl Council.