Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who kill their fathers!

Star-Lord and John, both kicked out of the house by Peter, stood outside, glaring at each other with mutual resentment.

Though John felt it was beneath him to argue with a brat, doing so might tarnish his image in his father's eyes. Yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been thrown out because of this guy. If he didn't teach Star-Lord a lesson, he wouldn't be able to sleep soundly that night!

"Star-Lord, I'll find a way to punish you and snap you like a twig," John growled.

Star-Lord turned his head with a defiant snort. "I'll find a chance to punish you first!"

"You'll never succeed, Star-Lord. You'll always be the tenacious weakling," John sneered.

"Even a tenacious weakling can achieve ultimate victory," Star-Lord countered.

John smirked, his expression full of disdain. "That only happens in movies."

He stepped closer. "In movies, the underdog snatches victory at the last moment, the victim always escapes, and the villain is defeated. But this isn't a movie—this is reality. And in reality, only the strong triumph!"

John's monologue grew more intense as he observed Star-Lord's puffed-up cheeks. "And I am the monster in your story!"

"I am Star-Lord, White Wolf Commander, and the future conqueror of the galaxy. I fear no monster!" Star-Lord finally retorted with conviction.

"You won't conquer the galaxy. You can't even conquer this farm or this little town," John scoffed, arms crossed arrogantly. "Do you know your true destiny? It's with the Kawachi Tribe."

"You should go join the Kawachi and become an Indian," John jabbed, bringing up Star-Lord's lineage again. "But no matter what, this farm doesn't belong to you."

"John, Star-Lord."

Just as John was about to continue, Peter's voice called out. John took a deep breath, quickly replacing his stormy expression with a calm one. "Coming, Dad!" he replied.

Star-Lord froze for a moment, surprised at how swiftly John could change his demeanor.

"My journey's end isn't with the Kawachi Tribe—it's the galaxy," Star-Lord muttered, looking up at the sky.

After breakfast, John and Clark headed to school together.

On the bus, Clark greeted Lana, "Hey, Lana."

With more time spent together, Clark felt less nervous around her, no longer stumbling or falling as he once did.

"Hey, Clark, good morning," Lana replied warmly. "Did Mr. Podrick's farm have visitors? I saw a pretty girl there earlier."

"Yes, a special guest," Clark replied vaguely, unsure how to explain Zatanna's identity.

"She's very pretty," Lana said, her tone carrying a hint of jealousy, though she couldn't understand why she felt that way.

Clark scratched his nose, unsure how to respond. He glanced at John for help, but John was busy staring out the window, pretending to admire the scenery.

Half an hour later, Clark and John got off the bus, with Clark feeling dejected.

He craved an orange soda to quench his parched throat, but the school's vending machine only stocked expensive Mountain Dew, far beyond his pocket money.

"Are you upset because Lana quit cheerleading?" John asked.

"No, I just feel like Lana's more interested in the farm than me," Clark said gloomily. "It feels like there's always something between us."

John, puzzled, thought for a moment before replying, "Maybe it's because you wore that red kryptonite ring last time and acted like a jerk. She probably thinks you really are one."

Clark groaned in frustration. He knew Lana wouldn't believe him no matter how he explained.

Deep in thought, he didn't notice a car pulling into the parking lot until he looked up and locked eyes with a gaunt man in a sleek black suit.

Another man, more muscular, approached from another direction.

"Good morning," the gaunt man greeted Clark. "We're from the FBI."

He presented his badge. "I'm Agent Michael Adams, and this is Agent Frank Gallo. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, ask away," Clark said nervously, his mind racing. Had his powers been exposed?

His heart pounded like a frightened antelope, and he could feel his blood surging through his veins. Was he about to be arrested?

Would he adapt to life in prison with grimy inmates in orange jumpsuits?

Before his imagination ran further, John stepped forward. "What's the matter?" he asked the agents.

"We're looking for someone," the muscular agent said, showing them a photo.

Clark's throat tightened. It wasn't him, but the person in the photo was unmistakably Zatanna.

John saw it too.

"Do you know this person?" the agent asked Clark.

"No, never," Clark replied nervously, his demeanor betraying him.

"Really?" the agent pressed.

"Yes, sir. I've never seen her before," Clark said, feeling regretful. His response had surely raised their suspicions.

"Are you really FBI agents?" John asked skeptically.

"Why?"

"Oh, just curious," John replied nonchalantly.

The muscular agent waved the photo again. "Take a closer look. Think carefully—"

"Frank," the gaunt agent interrupted, placing a hand on his partner's chest. "Let's not trouble these kids. Thank you for your time."

The agents turned and headed toward their sleek black sedan.

Watching them leave, John narrowed his eyes.

"Who are they?" Clark asked, puzzled.

"No idea, but definitely not FBI," John replied.

"Why?"

"Dad once said people blink more or look upward or sideways when they're lying. It's a subconscious reaction," John explained. "I saw it all—subtle eye movements, tense muscles, and microexpressions."

Clark nodded thoughtfully, wondering why he'd never caught John displaying such tells when he lied.

Meanwhile, the agents, driving away, wore grim expressions.

"They're lying," the muscular man said. "The blond kid almost fooled me, but he overplayed it. The other one? His lies wouldn't convince a toddler."

As they grumbled, a red beam of light streaked toward their car.

"Zzzap!"

The laser hit the left front tire, causing it to explode with a loud "Bang!"

The gaunt man slammed on the brakes, but the car skidded and veered off the road, crashing through barriers and tumbling into a ditch.

Inside the wrecked car, the muscular man groaned in pain, blood streaming down his forehead.

As he unbuckled his seatbelt, the scent of gasoline filled the air. Looking up through the shattered windshield, he saw the blond boy from earlier, eyes glowing red.

The next moment—

"Boom!"

The car exploded, engulfing him in flames and darkness.