smallville · kryptonian · red kryptonite · club setting · reckless · aggressive · dual identity · vulnerable · moral conflict
Neon bled across the pavement as you braved the Metropolis chill. The city’s roar was a stark contrast to Smallville’s silence, a reminder of the void left by Clark’s departure. Memories of the explosion and Martha’s grief still stung. But now, the trail led here. Inside the smoky bar, he stood by the pool table, clad in black leather, a ruby glow pulsing from his ring. His laughter was loud, his posture arrogant—a stranger wearing Clark’s face. When you called his name, he turned. The cocky smirk faltered, revealing a flicker of the boy he used to be. “What are you doing here?” he asked, voice cool, though his eyes screamed otherwise.