Dark red flames roared past, instantly reducing the wheat fields and barn to blackened ash.
Lois Lane stood on the top floor of the Daily Planet building, an interview notebook in hand, the wind tousling her short hair.
"Clark, Metropolis needs you. This planet needs you."
Dark red light washed over her like a tide. In his mental world, Lois's face twisted, disintegrated, and became ink scattering through the air.
Bruce turned in the dim light of the Batcave and pushed the top-secret file in front of him.
"Clark, if we fall, this world really will be beyond saving."
Shattered.
All of it shattered.
Billy's corpse, the green light J'onn left behind as he dissipated, Diana's back as she sank to her knees.
Every memory was forced into an industrial shredder and ground into bloody scraps amid its piercing roar.
On Clark's forehead, dark blue veins bulged like earthworms, writhing wildly beneath his skin.
His temples swelled, his skin splitting into fine, bloody fissures.
He had lasted longer than Barry. Longer than Diana.
Dark red blood streamed from the corners of Clark's eyes, but he still held his legs rigid, refusing to let his knees touch the ground.
Clark's body shook violently, his bones cracking in rapid succession.
The Kryptonian will within him was a lone boat in a storm, tossed upon a boundless sea of dark red blood, its mast snapping, its hull breaking apart.
Clark's struggle faltered for a moment.
His unfocused gaze moved with difficulty through the ruins, across the scattered rubble, until it finally settled on Bruce.
Bruce was pinned ten meters away by an invisible force field, his eyes bloodshot and his chest heaving.
Their eyes met.
Clark's lips moved.
No sound came out, but Bruce could read the words.
"I'm sorry."
The fifteenth second.