"I think you owe me an explanation, John."
After returning from the station, Peter decided it was time to have a talk with John.
"This morning, when I was driving Bruce to the station, I saw Evelyn Black."
Evelyn Black, a nearby neighbor, was often seen casually holding a cigarette between her fingers.
Peter glanced at the slightly nervous John and spoke in a measured tone: "I saw her smoking in her eight-acre yard, surrounded by high fences and pink climbing flowers. And you were there too. Let me guess, John, was she offering you a cigarette?"
Peter felt it necessary to nip the issue in the bud; John was too young to develop a smoking habit.
"No, Dad, I didn't smoke," John immediately denied.
He knew that admitting to smoking would certainly earn him a punishment from Peter's whip.
"Ms. Black just asked if I wanted one."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly did she say?"
"She said if she didn't offer me a cigarette, she'd be violating the Smokers' Code established in the late 19th century by Smoky von Smockington and his wife, Esmeralda Cancerfist. They declared that smokers should share cigarettes with others, just like friendly little monkeys."
John recounted the scene. "Then she handed me a cigarette, but I didn't take it."
"Dad, I would never touch drugs or cigarettes," John vowed earnestly. "I'm not the kind of person who gets addicted to things."
"You're quite addicted to milk, though," quipped Star-Lord from the side.
"No! Cigarettes and milk are nothing alike!"
John shot Star-Lord a glare, instantly finding him even more annoying than usual—on par with Bruce Wayne's insufferable behavior. But Bruce was off traveling the world, so why couldn't Star-Lord disappear into outer space too?
"In any case, neither of you should be smoking at your age," Peter warned the two. "If I catch you, I'll cancel all your allowances and send you both to a support group."
The threat of severe consequences made both boys shiver.
"Of course, Dad, I wouldn't dare," John immediately pledged his loyalty.
"I think, Dad, you should be more worried about Star-Lord's addictions."
Seizing the opportunity, John shifted the focus to Star-Lord.
"Before you arrived, Star-Lord ate an oversized sandwich with pretzel sticks. He tore open the bag and dipped the pretzels straight into the sandwich spread before eating them."
John said this with an air of sincere concern. "Dad, I think you should supervise him and stop him from eating things that could make him fat."
Star-Lord, already fuming, retorted angrily, "That's my hobby!"
Not one to back down, Star-Lord decided to retaliate. "Dad, John secretly milked the cows yesterday when you weren't home!"
John quickly defended himself. "I was just trying to do farm work and earn some pocket money!"
"Milking the cows isn't on the list of chores for earning pocket money, John. Admit it—you just love fresh milk."
Faced with Star-Lord's accusation, John puffed out his cheeks and took a deep breath. "Fine, I admit it. But look at what you've done! You took $10—I don't know if you stole it from Dad—and went to South Street to get your fortune told!"
Star-Lord's guilty glance at Peter's increasingly dark expression betrayed him.
Taking a deep breath, Star-Lord decided he couldn't hold back any longer either. "And what about that magazine under your bed? The one full of sexy movie stars? Care to explain that?"
Hearing Star-Lord reveal his biggest secret, John's heart skipped a beat. He quickly tried to explain to Peter: "No! I have no idea how that got there. I've never had such a magazine. Dad, it must be Star-Lord who hid it there—he's the one who likes that sort of thing!"
John put on an innocent face and hurriedly added, "Or maybe it was Clark! You know how last time he went on a spree at Eddie's Discount Store during one of his episodes."
Peter's suspicious gaze fell on him. "So, you're saying Clark secretly hid the magazine under your bed?"
"Y-yes!"
"But aren't you and Clark currently not on speaking terms?"
"I..."
John was at a loss for words.
Five Minutes Later
Peter stood in John's room, holding the magazine.
Though it wasn't explicit, the magazine featured mature actresses in revealing outfits—hardly suitable material for a boy John's age.
Peter frowned, recalling how this kid had always been drawn to older women in his past life. Apparently, that preference hadn't changed.
"I think, John, you'd better explain this to me."
Peter's stern tone left no room for negotiation.
"I..."
Facing Peter's grave expression, John knew he couldn't wiggle out of this. With a pained look, he admitted, "I took it from Whitney."
"You stole it from him?"
"He always takes stuff from other classmates. I just wanted to take it back and return it to them, but I... I didn't get the chance..."
"Uh-huh?" Peter's skeptical expression made it clear he wasn't buying it.
Letting out a resigned sigh, John glanced around helplessly. He knew he was in for it now.
Evening
John and Star-Lord were hauling supplies on the farm, both nursing sore butts from Peter's disciplinary measures.
After ratting each other out, the two were now locked in a cold war, glaring daggers at one another.
As John schemed ways to get back at Star-Lord, Clark arrived at the farm.
"Look who's here—our would-be heir to the Podrick farm, Clark," John taunted, still in a foul mood.
"Sorry, John. I owe you an apology. That wasn't really me back then," Clark said, his expression faltering as he referred to the incident with the red Kryptonite.
"You don't need to apologize, Clark, because..."
John set down the supplies and walked up to Clark. "Because that was just the truth buried deep in your heart."
"You act like you don't care about anything, but you care more than anyone else."
John shrugged. "Whatever. We're not friends anymore, anyway."
Night
Clark ate dinner at the farm, but the tension among the three boys cast a chilly silence over the meal.
After dinner, John and Star-Lord headed upstairs, leaving Peter alone with Clark.
"Clark, is something bothering you?" Peter asked.
Clark nodded dejectedly. "I think I hurt John with what I said before, and now he won't talk to me."
"He knows that wasn't the real you, Clark," Peter reassured him. "But John needs some time to let go of the unpleasant memories."
"So, he's not mad at me anymore?"
"Of course not. As his father, I know him well."
Peter patted Clark on the shoulder. "Time heals all wounds, Clark."
"Really?"
"Really."
Clark hesitated before asking, "Godfather, when I wore the red Kryptonite, I awakened powers like John's. Do you think I'll be able to fly one day, too?"
Peter's brows furrowed. "You mean heat vision?"
"Yes, heat vision. I don't know why, but it just... appeared, like it was natural."
Clark looked lost. "Dad says I came to Earth with a mission, but now my powers seem to be awakening. Godfather, I even dream of someone calling me 'Kal.'"
Peter listened intently, his frown deepening. Was Clark's Kryptonian heritage awakening? Was the ship hidden beneath the Kent farm's barn slowly influencing him?
"Godfather, what does 'Kal' mean? Is it really my name?"
"In some ancient languages, 'Kal' means 'star,'" Peter explained after a moment's thought.
"Star?" Clark repeated. "Does that mean I'm a star? But I'm not. I'm just an ordinary boy from a Kansas farm, and I'm not interested in stars."
Clark's gaze drifted to the dark night outside. "I used to be curious about the outside world, but now it feels so foreign to me. Dangers like red Kryptonite are everywhere, aren't they?"
He looked back at Peter with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm afraid of hurting you all, Godfather. If I must bear this mission at the cost of harming you, I'd rather not have it."
Peter felt a pang of emotion as he saw the sincerity in Clark's eyes.
He ruffled Clark's hair. "No, Clark, you don't have to bear anything right now."
"But what if my powers hurt you in the future? I'm scared of that happening," Clark said, taking a deep breath.
"Godfather, if I ever hurt you like I did with the red Kryptonite, use Kryptonite on me. Even if it kills me, I don't want that to happen again."
...
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