The next morning.
As John stepped out of his room, he saw Clark standing in an open area on the farm.
In front of Clark, not far away, stood a dummy.
Seeing Clark staring unblinkingly at the dummy, John was momentarily baffled.
"What are you doing, Clark?"
"I'm practicing my heat vision," Clark said seriously. "When I wore the red kryptonite ring before, it activated my heat vision. Now, Godfather wants me to practice on the dummy to see if I can reactivate it."
John nodded. "So… you're just staring at it like that?"
He found the method a bit silly.
"Godfather also told me to imagine something that makes me angry or evokes strong emotions," Clark added with a helpless shake of his head. "But I've been staring for an hour, and it's not working."
"Is that so?"
John thought for a moment. "I have an idea."
He turned and walked back into the house.
Although he was still a bit annoyed with Clark, his anger had mostly subsided.
A short while later, John snuck out of the house, making sure Peter wasn't home and Star-Lord wasn't paying attention. Then, he pulled out the magazine Peter had confiscated yesterday.
"Maybe you could try this."
John handed the magazine to Clark.
"Uh…"
Curious, Clark took the magazine. When he saw the provocative images on the cover, he blushed and handed it back to John.
"I don't think this will work."
"You haven't even tried it. How do you know?"
Clark said awkwardly, "This won't stir up any strong emotions in me."
"Is that so?"
John sighed, put the magazine away, and planned to secretly return it to Peter's room later.
As he was leaving, he said, "Maybe you could imagine it as Lana."
"Lana?"
After John left, Clark skeptically imagined the dummy as Lana.
Focusing his gaze on the imagined figure of Lana, Clark's vision sharpened.
The next second, heat vision burst forth with a sharp "zzt," striking the dummy.
"Sss!"
The dummy caught fire instantly, pierced by the heat vision.
"I did it?!"
Clark looked at his hands in disbelief, overjoyed.
Lana really worked!
On the other side, John quietly returned the magazine to Peter's room.
As he came downstairs, he saw Star-Lord in the living room. Feeling a bit guilty, John asked, "What are you doing?"
"Watching TV. The station said a circus is performing in town."
Star-Lord's eyes sparkled. "I have to check it out. Maybe I can learn a trick or two from the magicians there."
The thought of a dazzling magic show made Star-Lord eager.
"Magic show?"
John shook his head, uninterested in such performances.
Talon Club
Peter was having drinks with Officer Chandler.
"To be honest, I prefer the bars in Metropolis. You know the kind?" Chandler asked Peter.
"What kind?"
Peter was curious.
"I mean the flashy ones, filled with neon lights and dazzling sights," Chandler said, slightly tipsy. "Women in ultra-short skirts and fake voluptuous assets, flaunting their curves and legs. And then there are the flamboyant guys—those young men in high heels, fishnet shirts rustling as they move, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, and dancing wildly to the pounding music with wolf-like claws."
"Uh-huh."
Peter listened, then replied, "You've got quite the eccentric taste."
"This is nothing. If you visit the bars in Miami, you'll see even wilder scenes than what I described."
"Alright," Peter interrupted, steering the conversation back. "What about the case with Miss Katie? How did you handle it?"
He was curious about the outcome of the teacher possessed by a witch.
"She…"
Chandler paused before saying, "She claimed to have no memory of what she did and said a demon took over her body. We conducted a psychological evaluation and suspect she might have dissociative identity disorder."
"Dissociative identity disorder?"
"In short, her mental state is problematic." Chandler downed his vodka in one gulp and set the glass, complete with a lime slice and bubbles, on the table.
"She also mentioned you."
"Oh? What did she say about me?"
"She said you could prove her innocence."
Hearing this, Peter was momentarily stunned but then shook his head. "No, I actually know less than the police. So proving her innocence is out of the question."
He wasn't interested in getting involved in such a troublesome, unrelated matter.
Besides, how could he prove it?
Tell the Smallville police that it was all the witch's doing?
"Alright, suit yourself."
Chandler handed Peter a file.
"I also investigated that Elizabeth Paris you mentioned."
He continued, "In the 17th century, she was a prominent lady in this town. However, she was rumored to dabble in dark magic and was linked to the disappearance of local children. Eventually, the sheriff arrested her along with two other women."
"All three were sentenced to death by fire. But as they burned, they vowed to return someday."
After listening to Chandler's account, Peter nodded.
"Three witches, huh?"
"Yes. Madeleine Evans, Bryna Wade, and Elizabeth Paris. But it's been centuries, and there's been no sign of their return. Seems like they're gone for good."
"Not necessarily," Peter said, taking a sip of his drink.
Seeing Peter fall silent, Chandler resumed sipping his whiskey.
"Uncle Patrick, do you need anything else?"
Peter looked up, recognizing the voice. It was Lana, holding a tray and smiling at him.
"Lana?"
Peter asked in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"Aunt Nell owns part of this bar, so I help out occasionally, especially when it's busy."
Lana skillfully cleared the beer glasses from a nearby table. "Aunt Nell says I need to gain some social experience, and I think she's right."
Peter nodded. "Really? I remember Clark saying you were a cheerleader. Do you still have time to work here?"
"Actually, I've quit the cheerleading team."
Lana smiled but didn't elaborate. Instead, she asked, "Would you like a beer, Uncle Patrick? The Talon Club is offering a buy-one-get-one-free deal. For a regular like you, it might even be buy one, get two."
"Sure, I'll have one."
Peter casually asked, "How's Aunt Nell doing?"
"She's fine, just busy with the stables and the bar," Lana replied before heading to the kitchen.
On her way back, Lana accidentally bumped into a large customer, spilling drinks on his clothes and shattering a glass on the floor.
"Sorry, sir! I didn't mean to…" Lana apologized, flustered, as she tried to clean the mess.
"Are you blind?" the man growled. "Do you know how much this shirt costs? It's brand new, a thousand dollars!"
Seeing Lana's distress, the man stepped closer, demanding compensation.
Before he could grab Lana, Peter caught his wrist.
"Trying to bully a girl, are you?"
Peter squeezed, making the man wince in pain before shoving him back into the wall.
"Officer Chandler, care to take this guy to the station?" Peter asked casually.
Chandler flashed his badge, and the man quickly backed down, mumbling apologies before fleeing.
"Are you okay, Lana?" Peter asked, helping her pick up the broken glass.
"I'm fine. Thank you, Uncle Podrick."
Peter's gaze fell on a strange mark on Lana's arm, and his brow furrowed.
...
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