Metropolis.
Inside a luxury hotel room, Adrian stood still, surveying his surroundings with sharp eyes.
On the table lay a somewhat familiar backpack.
The blond kid who had saved his father earlier had been carrying a red backpack just like this one.
That meant this was likely his place.
Adrian stepped forward and dumped the contents of the backpack onto the table.
Keys, credit cards, a few ID cards, a razor, a hairdryer, some Pokémon cards.
He shook his head, placed his credit card into his wallet, then picked up the various IDs to inspect them.
"Hey!"
A voice came from the second floor.
A blond teenager, looking about fifteen or sixteen, stepped down slowly wrapped in a blanket, still damp from a recent shower.
He seemed confused, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Adrian.
"Are you lost?" the boy asked. "Because this is my home."
"No," Adrian said flatly, stepping forward. "Strictly speaking, this should be my home, because you rented this place with my card."
"I've never taken anything from anyone else."
The kid denied it immediately, voice a pitch higher with panic mixed in.
Adrian didn't blink. "Is that so? But I saw constant charges on my card after you stole it. It doesn't look like you plan to stop."
A flicker of fear crossed the boy's eyes, but he recovered and offered a smirk.
He wrapped his blanket tighter. "So you're going through my backpack? That's invasion of privacy."
"These are your things?" Adrian said, nodding toward the scattered items. "They're all stolen."
"Oh really? Prove it."
Before the boy finished speaking, Adrian was already behind him. In a blink his bathrobe vanished, replaced by jeans and a red hoodie, hair dry and settled.
It looked like in the two seconds it took to talk, Adrian had already changed clothes and moved.
"Not bad speed," Adrian observed. "But still not enough."
He picked up an ID card from the pile. "I saw you push my father earlier today. In a way, I should thank you."
The blond kid scoffed. "Impossible. No one can see me."
"You think you're the only fast guy," Adrian said, flipping through the IDs. "Jack Garrick? Barry Allen? Wally West? So which one is your real name?"
"Bart Allen!" the boy said loudly. "And even if I tell you, by the time you process it, I'll be gone."
Adrian dropped the ID back onto the table. "Hard to say. I blink pretty fast too."
Bart Allen was a well‑known DC speedster, known as Impulse and a future Teen Titans member with superhuman speed coming from the Flash family legacy.
"Bro," Bart said, waving dismissively, "I warned you."
"You can try," Adrian said in his usual tone, calm.
"Alright."
With that, Bart vanished.
Time seemed to slow around Adrian as Bart ran to the street below.
Adrian glanced at the moonlit sky and activated his own speed.
A streak of dark lightning followed him as he surged after Bart. Even in night's shadows, his speed rivaled his target.
Downstairs, Bart ran as fast as his legs could carry him, unwinding into the commercial shopping street.
Potato chips bag in hand, baseball cap perched backward, sunglasses reflecting streetlights, he dashed from one end of the block to the other, calories burning faster than he could replace them.
That's why he grabbed chips mid‑run.
He didn't think anyone could catch him.
"Hey, Impulse, you seem a bit slow."
Bart nearly choked on a chip when he heard a familiar calm voice ahead.
His eyes widened.
There, at an outdoor café along the street, sat the guy who had ripped through his room — unphased, drinking coffee.
"How — how is this possible?!" Bart stammered, pointing first at the hotel he lived in, then at Adrian sitting there relaxed.
"You got a twin waiting for me here?" he blurted.
"I do have a brother," Adrian said without emotion, "but we're not twins."
Before Bart could react, Adrian was already beside him again.
"Want to race?"
"Of course!" Bart removed his sunglasses, energized. "I've never met someone like me. I'm getting serious this time!"
Under crisp moonlight, Adrian — fueled by moonlight and the lingering curse's amplification — fully activated a surge unlike his normal speed, closing in on Bart instantly.
A tram sped past on an overpass, and Bart, unwilling to lose, matched it with a burst of sprint, barely ahead of its roaring wheels.
Adrian's form became a streak of dark light, overtaking the tram and following Bart's path along the tracks.
Streetlights blurred, two streaks of speed bending through the night like lightning cutting through darkness.
Within the artificial calm of slowed perception, Bart noticed something impossible — Adrian was running beside him, gaining ground.
Bart grinned and dodged forward at full tilt.
He leapt off the light rail line, continuing his sprint toward the city river.
There he ran across the water's surface, each footstep sending ripples outward.
In a heartbeat he reached the middle of the river.
Confident he'd shaken off Adrian, he dared a glance over his shoulder.
Then he saw a split in the water — a line parting the waves.
Before he could react, Adrian's low‑flying form appeared behind him.
With a single swift motion, Adrian seized Bart and ran across the water while clutched in his grasp.
On the riverbank, Adrian stopped and lifted Bart by the collar.
"It seems your speed is useless against me," Adrian said, voice crisp.
Bart didn't look afraid. Instead his eyes gleamed with exhilaration.
"That's super cool! You can actually keep up with my speed," Bart jabbered. "I thought I was the fastest person on Earth. Not only do you match my speed but you also catch up — bro, how did you do that?"
Adrian blinked once, scanning him.
"You don't seem remorseful for stealing."
Bart shrugged, shrugging even while airborne. "I didn't hurt anyone. I mostly swipe from rich jerks who don't care about the poor. Kinda feel like that's fair."
"Do my father and I look rich to you?" Adrian asked, expression unchanged.
"Alright, I apologize," Bart said with a deflated tone. "But you should get compensated. If I don't have money, I sleep on the street."
"You short on cash?" Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"Most of the time, yeah."
Adrian's grip loosened.
His original plan to simply teach Bart a lesson faded. Though Bart had stolen his credit card, he'd also saved Jonathan's life.
Even if he didn't need the help, a debt was now owed.
After a moment, Adrian dropped Bart to the ground.
Bart winced, rubbing his bruised cheek.
Then Adrian tossed a credit card at him.
"This," he said, "keep using it."
"Huh?!" Bart blinked. "You really want to give this to me? Didn't you say your family was poor?"
"My family being poor doesn't conflict with me being rich," Adrian said dryly. "If you keep thieving, sooner or later someone will break your legs for you."
"Uh, thanks for the heads‑up," Bart said with a lopsided grin. "I'll try not to get ambushed."
Kent Farm.
In the barn, which was temporarily serving as living quarters, Jonathan and Martha stared in astonishment as a fourteen‑or‑fifteen‑year‑old boy stood behind Adrian after he opened the door.
"Dad, Mom, I found the one who stole the wallet," Adrian said with that same calm tone.
He'd planned to let Bart go, but the kid had a strange excitement about him that kept him close.
Jonathan blinked, taken aback by his son bringing the thief home himself.
But then he remembered — Bart had saved his life.
So he waved them both inside.
Even if Bart had taken the card, he'd also saved Jonathan from a runaway car.