The neon signs blinked along the bustling city street, glowing green and blue against the evening sky. Words lit up in sequence: Palm Reading, Tarot Cards, Fortune Telling.
"I never thought you'd be into this sort of thing," Lana said, her tone teasing as she stepped beside Adrian.
"When I was helping Aunt Neil on the farm, I heard her tell plenty of stories about divination," Lana replied, taking a slow breath, "and I was once possessed by a witch. Most of my memories from that time are blurry, but since then I've had a fascination with supernatural lore."
"Witchcraft?" Adrian shook his head, not saying more, and pushed open the door to the shop next door.
Lana hurried to follow him inside.
"Chloe once told me the owner of this place has an uncanny ability to read people's thoughts," she said quickly, as though worried Adrian didn't believe her.
"I'm sure Chloe exaggerates," Adrian said flatly as he carried Rachel, wrapped in a soft blanket, in his arms. "Journalists have a knack for turning the ordinary into drama."
Adrian looked around the room, expecting the stereotypical fortune shop trappings—crystal spheres, dangling wind chimes, burning incense. What he actually saw was something else entirely.
Rows of yarn and knitted blankets lined dusty wooden shelves. Baby caps, afghans, and skeins of wool took up more space than any mystical tools. Under the hanging table, a stout Beagle snored, its ears flicking occasionally, looking anything but welcoming.
Behind the table sat a woman who looked more like a tax clerk than a mystic. Her hair was red, her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, and she wore a simple gray cardigan.
When she saw them enter, her eyes narrowed.
"Welcome. How can I help you?" she asked.
"I thought this was a fortune-telling place," Lana stammered, stepping back a bit.
"I am a psychic," the woman replied calmly. "You can call me Ms. Nancy."
Adrian scanned the room again while Lana spoke.
"So you knit and do readings?" he asked, raising a brow.
"I knit to get by," Ms. Nancy said with a shrug, "a woman has to support herself."
She gestured toward two chairs. "Please, sit."
Adrian sat down, placing Rachel gently on a cushion beside him.
"What's your fee?" he asked, watching her closely.
"Forty U.S. dollars," she answered, her tone earnest. "But let me assure you, this isn't a trick."
Adrian noted her trembling right hand—she either smoked or once did.
"Forty dollars isn't a lot if you're honest," he said, fishing two bills from his pocket and sliding them toward her.
Ms. Nancy picked them up, tucking them into the front of her cardigan.
"How would you like your fortune read? Tarot cards, palmistry, or maybe tea leaves?" she asked.
"I don't need props," Adrian said, shifting Rachel in his arms. "Pretty cards and palm lines aren't my style. I know someone who could read futures by touch. You can try that."
Ms. Nancy blinked and then gave a slow smile.
"You're right," she said softly.
She extended both her hands—one toward Adrian, the other toward Lana.
"Give me your hand. And you, girl, if your fates are intertwined, I can glimpse the path of both your lives, right where they intersect."
Lana hesitated before placing her hand in Ms. Nancy's. Adrian offered his next, and the psychic's warm touch sent a strange shiver through Lana, as though electric currents danced through her veins.
The room melted away.
Lana's vision blurred, and suddenly she was somewhere else entirely.
She stood in front of the majestic Capitol Building. A hot sun beat down as a crowd filled the plaza, holding up signs and shouting with fervor.
"Homelander is no ally! He's an unrestrained menace!"
"Resist when tyranny arrives!"
"Superman and Homelander, Dissolve the Threat!"
"Aliens have no place here!"
"Earth belongs to humanity!"
The words shocked her. Were these people gathered against Superman? Against someone called Homelander?
A thunderous boom sounded behind her.
She turned. High in the sky, Adrian descended, wearing a dark gray battle robe. His feet hit the ground with such force that the pavement cracked beneath him.
The crowd jeered, hurling insults.
"Alien! Get out of our world!"
"Murderer!"
Adrian lifted his gaze, eyes cold and merciless—like ice settling over steel.
But he ignored them, walking toward the Capitol steps with purposeful strides.
Lana watched him go, worry tightening her chest, and hurried after him.
He pushed through doors into the main hearing room.
Politicians, military officials, and civilians packed the chamber. Everyone turned to stare as Adrian entered, expression unreadable.
Among them were familiar faces—Lex and Lois—seated in the front row, their expressions mixed with concern and disbelief.
A voice came over loudspeakers.
"Please be seated. This committee hearing is now in session to investigate allegations against Homelander—his violation of international law, unauthorized intervention in foreign conflicts, and responsibility for casualties across several incidents." The secretary announced the charges.
The chairman peered down at Adrian. "Homelander, do you have any objection to these proceedings?"
Silence.
Then Adrian spoke, his voice low, direct.
"I admit it."
Gasps filled the room.
No one expected him to plead guilty.
"They want to blame others for these deaths," he continued, crimson flickering in his eyes, "but if you think your status gives you the right to decide this world's fate, you're wrong. I don't play by your rules."
"No one can judge me, no one has that power," he said, his voice rising. "Change is coming, and it will cut deep."
The room froze.
In an instant, Adrian vanished from the stand. The air whipped violently, and then he stood once more, this time holding a disheveled figure.
Shock rippled through everyone present when they saw who he carried.
"Mr. President!"
Lana stared in disbelief—he had brought the sitting President into the chamber.
Without hesitation, Adrian dropped the President to the floor. He tossed a pen and a blank form in front of him.
"Sign this contract," Adrian demanded.
Chaos erupted.
Suddenly a beam of scintillating heat lanced toward the crowd. Flesh. Bone. Blood.
The scene transformed into carnage. Officials fled as screams filled the chamber.
A dignitary two paces from the exit was cleaved in half by the searing beam. The presiding chairman hadn't even taken a step before the blast cut his life short, spraying the secretary at his side with gore.
The attack did not relent. Bodies fell. Chairs overturned. Screams echoed off the marble walls.
Lex and Lois had ducked beneath seats, eyes wide with horror—and still no one dared intervene.
Lana peered outside just in time to see someone flying toward the building.
It was Clark.
She blinked, focusing. The familiar S on his chest was unmistakable.
But before he could reach the chamber, something struck him—like a massive raven formed of black shadow. It slammed into him mid-air, sending him tumbling down the steps in pieces of stone and dust.
Then, the darkness solidified into a girl with long black hair and a dark cloak.
Her eyes narrowed as she advanced toward Clark, fist pulled back.
And just before her blow landed—
Lana's vision shattered.
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Powerstones?? (´ε｀ )
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Patreon = _Zeph