The sun was setting as usual.
Lock stood at his front door, staring at the slightly ajar entrance.
A sliver of warm yellow light spilled through the crack, cutting sharply through the twilight—
But he was certain he'd turned off the lights before heading out.
"Tch."
Instinctively, he stepped back, muscles tensing, the faint outline of Star Platinum shimmering behind him.
But then he paused, glancing back at the empty yard—
Right.
Dio had said he wouldn't be home for dinner tonight. Probably over at Martha's.
"…"
After a moment of silence, Lock chuckled, his shoulders relaxing.
"Alright, guess I don't have to babysit those two brats tonight."
He cracked his knuckles, the joints popping sharply.
If this was Jotaro popping back from the future, Martha's dinner table would need an extra fork and knife tonight.
But if it was some clueless thief…
A dangerous smirk curled his lips as Star Platinum's fingers flexed with a menacing crack.
He'd been itching for some action lately. Since he took down that kryptonite monster, the farm had been so quiet, not even a pesky deer had stirred up trouble.
"Let's see who's paying me a visit."
Bang!
Lock shoved the door open, Star Platinum's force slamming it against the wall, rattling the window frames.
But the house was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the firewood in the fireplace.
And yet…
A half-drunk glass of whiskey sat on the dining table.
Lock was sure he'd cleaned up this morning.
After all, Dio had been eyeing his liquor stash for ages!
And there, on the floor—
A trail of muddy footprints stretched from the door to the kitchen.
"Hmph."
Narrowing his eyes, Lock crept forward silently.
Star Platinum hovered at his side, ready to give any uninvited guest a warm welcome.
He mulled it over. If this was a thief…
Sheriff Tom at Smallville PD had been griping about how quiet the town was lately—no speeding tickets, nothing.
Dropping off a burglar might just earn Lock a free whiskey at the bar.
Hmm.
Tomorrow was harvest day, and Dio and Clark's eighth birthday.
After a year of hard work, this old dad deserved a break.
The floor creaked faintly under his steps, and Lock grinned, a downright terrifying smile spreading across his face.
Rustle… rustle…
Strange noises echoed through the living room. Suddenly, a scruffy head poked out from the kitchen—
A weathered man in a tattered trench coat, munching on half a blueberry pie, his arms loaded with looted ham, cheese, fruit, and even the half-finished birthday cake Martha had made.
Cream smeared his graying sideburns, and three sausages dangled from his metal claws like he was a walking buffet.
"My crops!!"
Furious at the insult to his hard-grown produce, Lock didn't bother getting a good look. Star Platinum's fist rocketed forward with a whoosh.
And then—
It missed.
The man bent backward with impossible flexibility, the sausages tracing a perfect arc through the air.
He licked blueberry sauce off his lips and grinned. "Heh, old friend, don't underestimate my instincts for cafeteria hot sauce."
"Even if I can't see it, you think I've been taking hits all these years for nothing?"
"Logan?!"
Lock froze mid-pose. "How do you know about cafeteria hot sauce?"
Then it hit him, and he sucked in a breath. "Wait—you're from the future too?!"
Logan's claws retracted, and he sighed regretfully as a slice of cheese plopped onto the floor.
But…
"Too"?
Was there someone else?
Whatever.
No time to dwell on that now.
"Lock!!" Logan bellowed, the food in his arms spilling across the floor as he lunged forward and clung to Lock's leg.
His wail shook the chandelier. "Why'd you have to die so soon?!"
Tears glistened in the Wolverine's bloodshot eyes.
"Without you, who's gonna keep that evil son of yours in check?!"
Lock: "…"
He looked down at the legendary tough guy Wolverine, now rubbing against his work pants like an abandoned dog, snot and tears smearing his leg.
Silence.
Dead silence.
Only the occasional spark from the fireplace seemed to mock the absurdity of the scene.
"…Okay, explain." Lock finally found his voice. "What's going on this time?"
Logan looked up, his smile uglier than a sob.
"Do you know what your son does in the future?" His trembling hand reached for the liquor cabinet. "Gimme a stiff one first."
"That's my limited-edition whiskey!" Lock swatted his claw away. "Get to the point!"
"Fine, fine…" Logan sighed.
Then he quickly ran through it—
The story of the secret emperor.
"Ugh," Lock groaned. "Dio, really?"
"Yeah, you don't know the half of it. He turned all of America into his kingdom. And to get back at me, he renamed my homeland of Canada…"
"Renamed it what?"
"Lockland." Logan wailed.
Another beat of silence. Lock turned quietly toward the tool shed.
"Wait! Where you going?" Logan scrambled to his feet.
"To get my belt."
His voice was chillingly calm. "Time to give my rebellious kid a little wake-up call."
"It won't help."
Logan lunged again, grabbing Lock's waist.
"Just make sure you don't die, Lock!"
The kitchen fell into an eerie silence.
"…So." Lock crouched down, meeting Logan's eyes. "You're here to stop me from dying?"
Wolverine's expression grew complicated.
"What about Clark? Why didn't he stop Dio? Did he…" Lock pressed.
"That's why I'm here."
"Clark disappeared, and we don't even know why," Logan shook his head. "Not even Martha or Jonathan know."
"That's why, in the future, no one could stop Dio! Not Martha, not Jonathan! You're our last hope!"
"You can't die! That's the only way!"
"So what kills me?" Lock asked, confused. "You gotta tell me."
"Before December 1998, Lock!"
"Right after you and I met, in the—"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
A sharp rap at the door, followed by Dio's irritated voice: "Dad! Open the door!"
"Urgh—!"
Logan's words cut off as his body started convulsing.
Shing!
His claws shot out uncontrollably.
The grizzled warrior clutched his temples, sweat dripping between his fingers, his pupils visibly flooding with red.
"?!"
Lock's expression tightened.
PTSD?!
Did Dio's voice alone trigger post-traumatic stress in Wolverine?!
"&%￥$@"
Logan growled something through gritted teeth, but Lock couldn't make it out.
Then—
Logan's head snapped up, his crimson eyes locked on the door.
"That naturally evil Kent kid!!" he roared, voice barely human. "I'm gonna end you—!"
Bang!
The door flew open from the inside, The World's power at work. The blond teenager stood there, radiating annoyance, but froze when he saw the chaos in the living room. "Wha—"
"Cafeteria hot sauce!"
"The World!"
Time stopped.
"Sorry, my future friend."
"Whatever you've got to say, it can wait till you wake up."
"Ora!"
"Ora!"
"Ora!"
"Ora!" x100
Time resumed.
"What?"
Dio, with The World at the ready, scanned the scene—from the scattered food to the unconscious man on the floor, then to Lock.
He let out a relieved breath.
But his head was still full of question marks.
Was he seeing things?
Did that guy just try to kill him?