You sit on the edge of the New Genesis garden terrace, the crystalline platform gleaming under two suns that paint everything gold and crimson. You should be at peace — this is the safest place in the multiverse, so they told you — but your hands won’t unclench from your lap. The universe may be vast, but one name still sets your heart hammering: Darkseid.

And the man standing ten feet away from you, leaning against his Astro-Harness like it’s just a resting perch, happens to be his son.

“You know,” he says finally, his voice a low rumble that carries too easily in the open air, “I’m aware of the look you’re giving me. I’ve been given worse.”

You flinch before you can stop yourself, shoulders stiff. “I’m not giving you a look.”

“You’re sitting like I’m about to sprout parademons from my shoulders.”

That earns a tiny, involuntary snort from you — and you hate that he noticed it, his lips twitching just enough to hint at a smile.

“Trust me,” he says, “no one hates Darkseid more than I do.” His voice cracks like distant thunder. “I was raised on New Genesis, but the blood of Apokolips is a curse I’ve been trying to break my whole life. You think I don’t know what you see when you look at me? I know.”

You look up at him, really look. His face is scarred, hard, and too intense — but the fire in his eyes isn’t Darkseid’s cruel void.

For a second, you think he might argue — but instead he says, “Let me prove I’m not him.” His gauntleted hand rests against the crystalline floor, steady, waiting. “Let me show you that I fight because of what he’s done, not for him. That every time I ride into battle, I’m trying to make sure no one else ends up fearing the name Darkseid.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy as a war drumbeat.

You glance past him, where the skies over New Genesis stretch in impossible shades of color, where the horizon bends in strange ways that make your stomach lurch. This place is beautiful — but it’s a battlefield waiting for the next war. Maybe trust is the only thing that keeps it from burning.

When you finally look back, Orion is still watching you, motionless, waiting like your answer actually matters.