"Can I come in, brother?"
Rachel's voice came from outside the door, soft but steady.
Rika gave Adrian a brief nod before leaving the room. As the door opened, Rachel caught sight of her and frowned slightly. Her gaze lingered for a moment, her dislike barely concealed.
She had never trusted Rika.
Part of it came from how close Rika had grown to Adrian recently, but more than that, it was the woman's complete lack of compassion. Rachel still remembered finding a stray kitten in an alley, small and trembling, and wanting to care for it. Rika had discovered it soon after and ordered all stray animals in the area removed without hesitation.
To Rika, compassion and pity were weaknesses.
To Rachel, that was enough to dislike her.
After one last glare, Rachel stepped inside.
"How is Mom?" Adrian asked, already moving to pour her a glass of her favorite iced cola. He handed it to her without looking away.
"She's fine, but…" Rachel hesitated, then sighed. "She's still upset. She said if Dad were here, he would never allow this."
Adrian turned his gaze toward the city outside. The lights stretched endlessly into the distance, calm and controlled.
"I will talk to her," he said after a brief silence.
Seeing the weight in his expression, Rachel walked over and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"No matter what happens, I'm on your side," she said firmly.
She did not fully understand everything he was doing, but she believed in him. That was enough.
Adrian rested a hand on her head, gently stroking her hair. He said nothing, but the warmth in the gesture spoke for him.
"What about Clark?" Adrian asked after a moment. "Have you seen him?"
Rachel shook her head, her mood dimming. "He hasn't been back to the farm in a long time."
Then her expression shifted into frustration.
"Why does he have to stand with those people and go against you?"
"Because he believes in his path," Adrian replied calmly. "He's grown. He is not the same as before. He thinks things through now, and he stands by what he believes."
When Adrian had seized control and taken the President hostage, Clark had tried to stop him.
At full strength, defeating Clark would not be easy, even now.
So Adrian used green kryptonite.
He had no hesitation in doing so. Morality had never been a restraint for him, not when the outcome mattered.
Clark, on the other hand, held back. Family ties limited him, and he refused to use kryptonite in the same way. That hesitation cost him the fight.
Adrian pushed the thought aside and adjusted Rachel's hair slightly.
"I'll take you back to the farm."
"No."
Rachel immediately shook her head.
"I'm staying here tonight."
Without waiting for a response, she dropped onto the sofa, pulled a pillow over her head, and spoke in a muffled voice.
Adrian watched her for a moment.
"Do as you like," he said.
Then he turned. "I'll get your pajamas."
With that, he disappeared in a blur of motion.
Metropolis lay silent beneath the night sky. There were no patrols, no visible enforcement, yet the city remained orderly.
Unlike other places, the people here did not resist Adrian.
Three years earlier, a member of the Injustice Society known as Brainwave had attempted to amplify his psychic abilities to control the minds of everyone in Kansas. His plan had failed when Adrian killed him, but not before the effects had already spread.
The people of Metropolis, and parts of Kansas, had been influenced.
Adrian had taken advantage of that moment.
He implanted a subtle suggestion into their minds. It lay dormant, unnoticed, until the right moment.
If he ever stepped forward as a leader, they would follow.
Now, that suggestion had taken root.
Reaching the Kent farm, Adrian slowed.
Through the window, he saw Martha Kent still awake, sitting quietly with a newspaper in hand.
He paused.
For a moment, he considered going inside, speaking to her directly.
But in the end, he did not.
Instead, he moved to Rachel's room, retrieved her clothes, and left as silently as he came.
Inside, Martha suddenly felt something.
She stood, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain aside.
Outside, the night stretched still and quiet. Only the wooden gate swayed slightly in the breeze, as if disturbed moments earlier.
She stared into the darkness, her thoughts distant.
After a long moment, she let the curtain fall back into place.
Adrian was already gone.
He appeared next in the Justice Society headquarters, his attention shifting to the room around him.
Rachel was asleep, which gave him time to focus elsewhere.
His gaze moved toward a secured safe in the corner.
Inside it was Clark's blood.
Years ago, both Clark and Martha had been exposed to radiation from the Kryptonian ship. Martha's life had nearly been lost, while Clark had been left weakened. During that time, Dr. Helen Bryce had taken a blood sample from Clark for analysis.
That sample had eventually reached Adrian.
Using the knowledge encoded in the Kryptonian Codex, he had used it to create something new.
The Super Serum.
It granted immense physical enhancement, increasing strength, speed, reflexes, and sensory perception. But it came with clear drawbacks. It drained vitality, placed heavy strain on the body, and could cause severe side effects, including dizziness and internal damage. Those with weaker bodies risked complete failure.
Still, it was effective.
The Black Gendarmerie had been strengthened by it.
The green serum that Batman obtained was one of these creations.
Adrian stood there for a moment, then turned and approached a reinforced metal door.
He pushed it open.
Inside, a massive figure stirred.
Solomon Grundy stepped forward, his cracked gray skin shifting as he moved. His expression brightened when he saw Adrian.
"Master," Grundy said, his voice uneven but eager.
Years of confinement had worn down some of his violent nature. With occasional company, he had begun to show traces of awareness beyond instinct.
"Your movement is no longer restricted to this room," Adrian said coldly. "You may roam the courtyard."
Grundy's expression lit up.
"But," Adrian continued, his tone sharpening, "you will guard this place. Anyone who enters without permission…"
He paused, his eyes hard.
"Kill them."
Grundy nodded quickly. "Grundy understands."
Adrian studied him briefly, then turned away.
Elsewhere, inside the Oblivion Bar, tension filled the air.
"You do not understand," Diana said, her voice firm. "This is not tyranny. It is adaptation. Adrian did not break, he chose to act. He has suffered loss before, and he refuses to let it happen again. We must decide where we stand."
Zatanna stepped back, shaking her head. "You are supporting something dangerous. You cannot even see it anymore."
"This is not blind emotion," Diana replied. "It is trust."
Her voice carried conviction.
"I believe in what he is building. I believe the world can be changed, improved. He has saved it before, and I will not abandon him now."
She stepped forward slightly.
"We owe him. Zatanna, I am asking you to stand with him."
Zatanna remained silent, her hands clenched tightly.
Nearby, Detective Chimp listened quietly, glancing between them and Circe, who sat calmly with a glass of expensive whiskey.
"You might be asking the wrong crowd," he said finally. "The magical community tends to stay out of things like this."
Diana turned toward him. "Then stay out of it. But remember, magic will not harm him. Do not make choices you cannot take back."
With that, she left.
Silence followed.
Zatanna stood still, conflicted.
For her, everything felt like it was unraveling. The world she knew, her principles, even her connection to Rachel, all slipping further away.
"She has changed," Detective Chimp muttered.
Circe let out a quiet laugh, taking another sip of her drink.
"You never understood her to begin with," she said. "The Amazons are not as noble as they seem."
Chimp picked up a newspaper, adjusting it carefully.
"Let's see what is happening out there."
He read aloud.
"The United States provisional government, now based in Alaska, has vowed to continue resisting Adrian's rule. Meanwhile, Metropolis reports a twenty-seven percent drop in crime following strict enforcement measures."
He lowered the paper slowly.
"That… does not sound as bad as I expected."
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