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Superman was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.
Batman created by Bob Kane
Wonder-Woman created by a pervert who also invented the lie detector.
Birthing Pains
Book 1, Boyzarro
S
He was alone in the dark, happy.
"Let there be light."
There was the hum of machinery, and then he felt himself dropping, going from the safety and warmth of the biomechanical womb to the hard sterile floor of the lab. He started coughing violently, expelling a thick fluid from his lungs in anticipation of his first breath. After that he vomited. When he was done he curled into himself and groaned piteously.
The bald man, wearing just the heavy plastic pants of a biohazard suit and a short sleeved dress shirt and tie above that, checked his wristwatch passively while the team of doctors with him looked on with varying levels of unease from the masks in their own full suits. After he felt enough time had passed, he spoke.
"Decontaminate the subject."
A technician stepped forward carrying a thick hose attached to a pump station of the wall, and opened it on full blast on the newborn. The water pressure would strip paint off a car, and it was hot enough to boil an egg, but he found it no more painful than anything else he had experienced in his short life so far. When the water was shut off he could feel each bead of it on his skin until it evaporated.
"Happy birthday, Subject Kr-13. Stand up."
The subject, who looked to be a boy of about 16, dark haired and sullen eyed, struggled to comply. He was clumsy and naked as all newborns, and slipped and fell on the wet floor. He had been gestating for what would have been 16 trimesters for a human child, and was still relatively weak. The umbilical cord was already sloughed off of his pale stomach from the water, the tissue rapidly deteriorating in the open air, leaving no scar. He had another coughing fit. It was so bright. Everything was out of focus, but he could feel everyone staring at him. He could hear everything, the buzz of the lights and the doctor's whispering, but his gasping breaths were so load he could hardly make sense of the murmuring.
"Stand."
The bald man's voice was like thunder, like the voice of God. He struggled to his feet again.
"Do you know who I am?" The bald man asked.
"Y-yes Sir." His voice was horse. He had never used it before.
"Then who am I?" The bald man was grinning at him now. He did not smile back.
"You are Alexander Luthor, the CEO, founder, and main shareholder of Luthor Enterprises and it's subsidiaries. You were born in 1967, the son of attorney Lional Luthor and his mistress-"
"That's enough." The bald man motioned to a girl, notable for her bright red hair and the fact she was not wearing a hazmat suit, and she approached the newborn with a towel and began to dry him. He felt himself relaxing under her touch. The bald man continued while he was being dried. He was too naive to detect the derision in the bald man's voice.
"You are Subject Kr-13, the thirteenth attempt at creating a replacement for Superman, should Superman ever perish or turn away from the light. Made in the image of your father, Superman, I intend you to be a champion for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Since your conception 4 years ago, I have poured billions of dollars into your growth, both physically and mentally. You are now ready to face the world. Superman and his superfriends will come here tonight and take you into his arms, and claim you as his son. You are perfect. Your name is Superboy. Do you understand, Superboy?
"Yes sir, Mr. Luthor."
"Excellent," Luthor smiled again, and then looked towards the girl. "M'gann."
Superboy saw her eyes glow, and everything then everything was blank.