Kryptonite?
Why would Kryptonite marks show up on The World?
Was it from the radiation during that meteor shockwave?
He hadn't forgotten—according to Dio, The World had taken the brunt of that first blast.
Uh oh.
If Locke remembered right, little Lex lost all his hair because of that same radiation.
So was The World's overdrive a side effect of that...?
"Alright, I'm just going to check whether The World is still developing." Forcing down his emotions, Locke smiled calmly. "Dio, get some more sleep."
"Oh."
Dio flopped back down and decided to sleep.
Locke tiptoed to the door, but just before leaving, he couldn't hold back.
"Dio."
"Aren't you curious about that future the guy from the future was talking about?"
"Tch."
Dio rolled over. "Dad, weren't you the one who said—"
"You don't have to worry about what the future holds."
"And besides, aren't you being kind of clingy lately? What, going through menopause or something?"
Locke's mouth twitched hard.
Good kid—using his own words against him!
How was he supposed to smack him for that if he didn't even know the future himself?!
"Good night, you little punk."
He stormed over, ruffled Dio's hair with a vengeance, and left the room while the boy grumbled in protest.
Time to check if Logan was awake.
Heading downstairs quietly, Locke used the Platinum Eavesdropper's enhanced hearing—
Noises again, coming from the kitchen.
"F\\\! Damn it! Why the hell is this gas stove so hard to use?!"
The curses came with the clatter of metal.
"Where's the fire? Where's my fire? Son of a—"
Locke's mouth twitched. He deliberately made his footsteps louder and even gave a fake cough.
"Cough! Cough!"
Sure enough, the noises stopped right away.
By the time he strolled into the kitchen, Logan was leaning against the counter with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, striking his best brooding tough-guy pose.
Honestly?
This lone-wolf act... Locke just couldn't appreciate it.
He preferred the scruffy stray dog version.
"Farmer."
Logan's voice was low and raspy, "What's wrong with your gas stove?"
"Actually, we use induction stoves now."
Expression flat, Locke pressed the power button. The stovetop lit up in blue. "It's 1997. We're going green now, Logan."
Logan froze, pretending to study the control panel.
"…I knew it. Couldn't find a switch. Guess the 21st century really is around the corner. Ha."
Locke shook his head. Seeing this version of Wolverine, how could he not realize—
His friend from the future was gone.
Honestly, he'd thought it was the real Logan, like Giorno—body and all. But clearly, it had just been his consciousness.
"Farmer, long time no see." Logan cleared his throat, leaning against the fridge like the toughest man alive. "So… where'd you pick me up from?"
"…You're not gonna believe this—you broke into my house yourself."
"Heh."
With a cold laugh, his claws popped out an inch.
"Farmer, you think I'm an idiot?"
He pointed at his mud-caked boots. "My last memory was chasing down traffickers in the next state's forest."
"That so?"
Instead of arguing, Locke simply gestured.
——
Logan frowned but followed. May as well catch up with this fake hometown buddy.
Their heavy steps carried them to the living room, where Locke crouched to turn on an old VCR hooked up to a bulky TV.
The screen flickered, then played security footage from inside the house.
Uncle Tom's prosthetic leg…
What kind of 20th-century farmer has home surveillance?!
But before Logan could scoff, his brows shot up at the fast-forwarding footage:
A stumbling, dirt-stained himself barged through the door.
Stretched like he owned the place.
Poured himself a drink, raided the kitchen like he lived there, until Locke showed up. Then—
He dropped everything and rushed over…
…to grab Locke's leg and burst into tears?!
"What the f—"
The cigarette slipped from Logan's lips as his eyes went wide.
His memory told him it had to be AI-generated.
But his logic screamed: it's not even the 21st century yet!
He swallowed hard and kept watching.
Onscreen, he was still bawling:
"Locke, you can't die!"
Then—
"Damn you, Kent brat, I'll—"
He collapsed, unconscious.
Ten minutes later, Logan's face had gone from shocked to confused to deeply unsettled.
He touched his own face, trembling, like checking if this was a nightmare.
"I actually… got PTSD from a kid?"
His voice was hoarse.
Logan didn't need a shrink to tell what that was.
Locke patted his shoulder with pity. "My fault for not raising my son better. Sorry, Ro—"
"Enough!"
Logan shot to his feet, claws popping and tearing three holes in the couch arm.
He drew in a deep breath, forcing the subject to change.
"Forget that—shouldn't we be talking about the crisis that guy from the future mentioned?"
"Because you died, your kid went off the rails, and the whole world got wrecked?!"
"That's right."
Locke nodded heavily. "Future-you said before December 1999, I'm dead."
He pointed at the screen—Logan weeping like a child.
"And that's you, afterward."
Logan jumped up, pacing furiously across the room, boots thudding.
"F\\\! How do I keep getting dragged into crap like this?!"
He raked his claws through his hair.
"Last time it was that purple space tyrant—now it's some future tyrant! What am I, a babysitter?!"
But then—
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his broken self on screen again. His whole body flinched.
No way.
Absolutely not!
That pathetic version of him could never exist!
What could possibly break him like that?!
He'd been caged, experimented on, tortured—and never cracked.
Grinding his teeth, he stopped pacing and gave Locke a complicated look.
This farmer…
Future-him must've been close to him.
Close enough to cry into his leg?!
Logan's mouth twitched. He shoved the image out of his head.
"Tch, whatever." He rubbed his temples. "Guess I'll just call it… protecting a friend."
Taking a deep breath, he suddenly jabbed a finger at Locke.
"Fine! I've decided!"
"I'm moving in here to watch over you!"
"No."
Locke shut it down instantly.
Logan froze. "…Huh? Why not?!"
"Because you're a walking time bomb." Locke pointed to the dark window. "That organization came sniffing around this afternoon. They're probably scouring all of Kansas for you right now. I can't keep you here."
"Future-you said it clearly. It's October 1997. My death is before December 1998."
"And no matter what happens, it's only me. Dio, Clark, Martha, Jonathan—they'll all be safe."
"But if you're involved, and that organization finds out—"
"I'm sorry, Logan. Thanks for the offer, my friend from the future."
"But I won't risk my family."
Logan froze, face stiff.
"…."
He slowly raised a hand, raking it through his hair in frustration.
Damn it—he'd completely forgotten about that!
"That bastard…" Logan growled. "I forgot that department's got me on global wanted lists."