The Lost Son

by Heliosion

In a world where Superboy escaped before the team found him, a young Conner Luthor changes the world. He puts out the flames of one man's ambition to kill his rival, travels the world and sees in his own eyes the world long before he starts upon the path of the hero. Now in the world's greatest crisis he must do as he agreed when the time came and save the world. This is my AU.

4. Chapter 4 Jail Break

"Young Justice New World Chronicles"

"The Lost Son"

By Heliosion

Chapter 4: Jail Break

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the DC universe or its affiliates for if I did I wouldn't have grown men flying around with their underwear on the outside of their spandex pants. Or make a superhero whose special power is driving a taxi.

Oh yeah this is based in an original multiverse world. In this case Earth X for this is a fanfiction and I haven't had the opportunity to read every single comic produced by DC hence continuity will suffer so I will create my own in the spirit of Young Justice.

Constructive reviews only people

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His memory of the days of his birth before his independence day was fragmented at best, the early years of his creation prior to his emancipation impossible to determine. But the same recurring memories always haunted him when he drifted to sleep.

In his dreams, he always returned to his small world. A world made of glass, cold, heartless, frosted, fragile glass that contained his existence. His mind was chosen for him, his body made to order by the people that demanded he call them his leader.

For so long, nothing had been his own. What he learned, his views, his heart right down to the food and the air he breathed was carefully selected to maximise his potential. His education gave him no choice to choose what path to follow. What he read, what he was to understand, and his life goals even his purpose for which he was allowed to exist for. Everything belonged to everyone else and nothing was selected by him to decide.

Everything they did was branded a success or failure. The acquisition and stabilisation of the meta-human gene was dubbed a failure. His body was a failure for breaking down from the strain of harbouring incompatible D.N.A. The weakness for green kryptonite was still there, rendering him weak and malleable for them to probe, sample and collect data though they had hoped he would be less vulnerable because he wasn't fully alien, another failure. His powers as a Kryptonian were however a success, something to be studied and, if they could, they would have terminated him and begun once again with their minor success to work from. Instead, they tried to salvage their manufactured Superman and projected their negativity without ever saying a word to him that told him in no misunderstood circumstances what an utter failure he turned out to be.

It was not to say his life was horrible. They fed him, clothed, watered and groomed their pet like a good owner would. They taught him the horrors of war, battle and tactics. They beat the mentality of a saint, a heart that knew compassion towards his fellow man yet remembered he was different and had the power to save the world. He was to become a last step Superman, a replacement in case the real man of steel perished. But instead of his grand purpose, he was reduced in the end to a nuclear missile, a firework that would explode in one final great blast of greatness; the last step defiance for a world denied their greatest hero.

But one thing always remained. He was always so very cold. His feet were numb, his arms never seemed to ever stop rubbing together in an eternal battle for warmth and forever dizzy, ill with fever. He could never feel anything other than a cold metal floor or freezing opaque glass that always blocked the view of the outside world offering only blurred mirages to test the sanity of the prisoner. Only the green light of the diluted kryptonite gas keeping him caged could penetrate his gloomy world and the pets of the monsters that made him, taught him anything about the outside. They left him tame, aware on the brink of human mental endurance and when they were completed modifying their weapon, Project Kr was to be sent to sleep until humanity needed its powers for a final miracle.

Or that had been the hope, anyway. While they drained the kryptonite gas from his tube, hope had finally drifted into his body for the first time in his endless existence. The voices that weren't his own were silenced and for the first time in living memory, he wasn't huddling for warmth anymore. His body did not shiver or feel feverish. For the first time in his scattered memory borne from isolation and lack of socialisation, project Kr could feel, touch and move without the aches and pains of being bathed in low levels of kryptonite radiation.

However, it seemed that his weakness had also sheathed the power within him. The implanted abilities of a meta-human genome thought to never have synched with his alien body awoke from its slumber. The one thing the scientists at Cadmus had never calculated was for their fear of their own masterstroke to hold back the raw potential of their crafted god.

Nothing was remembered of his escape from Cadmus buried in their underground complex. There were fragments of waking up from the stasis chamber. Some of him flying and the intense battles fought in the underground levels to the surface. His instincts had been to survive while a painful throb, the failures in his body from his exertions had been his souvenirs. But the fear never left him when he glimpsed across Superman, his League following in his tracks until the next thing he was aware of was when he awoke in a hospital bed with Lex Luthor watching benevolently over him.

"Welcome to the world, my son," Lex had said. His assistant, Mercy, had smiled to him as well when they watched whom they would dub as Conner Luthor.

While never having a father, his teachers had taught him the right thing to address that statement.

"Hello, father," he said in a small voice, from a set of vocal cords that had never spoken a single word before. He had bathed in the warmth of the blankets that whole time, his voice muffled by his desire to wrap himself in the crisp hospital sheets. The cold was gone forever and his parental figures that every family had in them were waiting for him.

The nightmare was over, at last.

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He awoke from his nightmare to utter darkness.

"Keep calm," Conner whispered his words, obsolete and ineffective to the startled heart telling the truth about his state of mind as it gave off a beat that had been given a head start from the startled manner in which he awoke and was gaining ground. "Keep calm Conner Luthor," he said a bit louder hoping the drowning beat of the organ pumping blood throughout his body would listen to him.

But the less than rousing call to keep his cool was ignored. His blood pounded in his ears, his voice that continued its mantra weakened until it sounded like a rusted bicycle. Perspiration dribbled out of all his pores until his startled state fresh from its nightmare realised something rather important.

"Where are my clothes?" Conner whimpered. He attempted to reach down to touch the soft, tight material around his muscled thighs until something metal restrained him from going down past his hips.

The heart began to race.

"This is not Cadmus," Conner continued to whisper, arguing with himself. The psychiatrist had told him how to breathe and how to control his nightmares from manifesting on the waking world. "Investigate the scene. What do you remember doing last?"

Conner breathed deeply, battling his horrific claustrophobia and his fear of the dark. He made his tensed body relax as the logical centres of his mind were put to work.

His last memories were of fighting the monster known as Doomsday. The horrible battle that had laid waste to the central districts starting from the west side of Metropolis where, for the first, time Conner had been reminded he was a mortal being perfectly capable of dying. His recollection of the fallen Man of Steel lying beaten, broken and the last moments of his conscious participation that had the Man of Steel rendering the grey fiend unconscious, if not dead were vivid, almost haunting, like finding out deicide was possible.

But nothing else came to mind. Conner could recall, with his eidetic memory, almost everything of that day. All the malicious thoughts of letting down Lex, whom had placed so much faith in his abilities to save the world, the spine tingling terrors that had to have left a few dents in the metal chassis of the plane… Every single of those little gnawing insecurities, the little treasonous moments where he dropped his cool that sprouted when given the moment to strike like a hive of angry bees of the idea of going out to battle a monstrous beast that had flattened all of the world's mightiest heroes. Everything was in place in chronological order, right up to when he lost consciousness on the ground…

With those clues, he had nothing to verify where he could be now. Just the blackness that tripped off all his primal fears with a source back to the early days, the years before freedom was granted to him by chance. The teenager tested the heavy restraints again, applying more force and hearing them creak from the strain of his super strength, offered momentarily relief until his irrationality towards cramped and dark spaces retook control in the siege between his rational mind and his worst fears. Some part of his chamber was metal and cold to the touch… In his panic, the cold had been ignored, a third unwanted sensation that allowed involuntary reminiscing of those days. It was an old sensation, something he hoped never to again feel this way again like the feeling of being engulfed in green light.

So much of this reminded him of those people, those selfish uncaring beasts of people that could have stolen his faith in humanity forever had it not been for Lex and…

His heart skipped a beat at the aggressive, continued traitorous thoughts of this being a Cadmus cell, stronger perhaps that could...

"Cadmus is gone," Conner whimpered, cutting his runaway emotional outbursts before biting his lip to steel his resolve. He was not that kid anymore. He wasn't feverish or seeing green and this cold belonged to the metal that composed it and not from how ill Conner was feeling. He had to investigate more, locate more clues of what and where he had been taken.

And he had to just remember what the doctor told him to do on the couch during his sessions. If he was having an anxiety attack, distract, distract and distract before the attack claimed him completely while remembering to breathe.

"Remember to breathe, Conner."

Conner concentrated his super hearing and searched for the comforting sounds of civilisation. He expected to hear the words and noises of people living their lives, cars going about on the roads, some peacefully with safety in mind while police cars or emergency vehicles that Conner greatly respected going out to help people. Hell, the animals and birds calling out their noises, sounds belonging to nature that competed with the artificial noises created by industry.

In other words, the validation that he wasn't back in that underground laboratory, where none of those sounds existed there.

His heart picked up the pace once again at the complete silence, his breathing followed suit becoming ragged and irregular as he started to hyperventilate. He accidently, despite the fear of doing so, tore through a restraint and clutched his heaving chest pushing back the heart that was attempting a jailbreak. Conner sat up, snapping out an intravenous tube from his wrist, a liquid that caused him to feel dizzy spluttered out that he remembered so well yet it wasn't quite the same.

"Cadmus knows how to manufacture liquid kryptonite, but they can't make stuff that doesn't hurt you," Conner babbled, tearing another restraint as the panic continued to settle in. "They are gone! Cadmus was destroyed by the Justice League…" His hands covered his useless ears and cautiously he turned his head to the unusual fluid on his arm. He touched his nose to it then withdrew expecting almost to be burned. "Lex told me. He promised me…"

In one last ditch effort for control, he grasped at any method of confirming that this wasn't Cadmus and cautiously utilised his x-ray vision staring through the walls to his left side.

Where Conner promptly lost all sense of composure and snapped. His eyes had to be wrong! There was nothing outside! All he had seen was planet Earth! His claustrophobia was playing tricks on his mind.

"Yeah, that has to be it," Conner said loudly, flailing enough to break through the leg braces, "I must be… no I am delirious from fighting Doomsday. This cannot be Cadmus. Cadmus is gone," the teenager continued mumbling as even his voice started to leave him, "Cadmus is dead… yes that's right and no… I am not in outer space!"

Helpfully Cadmus knowledge donated by the Genomorphs, for once, aided him and explicitly explained that nothing was on the moon. International treaties going back to the first contact with alien societies forbade the use of the celestial body for any application. It belonged to nobody hence no single nation could even land on the moon these days. There wasn't anything. This was some kind of hoax and…

In continued desperation, Conner looked through the right hand side metal wall. What he found was powerful enough to affect him that it took five sets of ten rapid heartbeats to accept what he was seeing but that was when, the moment the proverbial shit truly hit the fan.

It was a mortuary! This was a place for the dead to be cut up and examined on their final journey to whatever funeral rites they wanted. It was impossible to mistaken it for anything else! He counted five lifeless and mercifully empty mortuary slabs and trays were in the sterile environment made of polished metal that sat medical instruments such as scalpels and tweezers. The floor was impossibly shiny, hygienic enough to send a sick feeling from his stomach to his throat and everything just seemed to remind him of…

Conner lashed out like a wounded animal. His tactile telekinesis upon his fingertips, grasping the shallow circular roof, contorted everything in reach. Glass bulbs shattered like heavy rain drops, groaning metal walls began to warp and on both walls producing holes shaped like corkscrews. They were jagged like dragon's teeth, cruel in appearance and showed the strain the chamber had been put under by the psychically innate teenager.

The relief of his cell's vulnerability helped him make the following conclusions, if not completely manage to cool the phobias and terrors life had inflicted upon Conner Luthor. Still, so much was impossible to ignore, ancient slumbering monsters created from his harsh beginnings continued to groan out in anticipation of awakening.

This was someone's laboratory. The teenager associated laboratories with bad places, where nightmares were born and his claustrophobia had a new ally in his utter dread of being anywhere near labs. An alarm had gone off, echoing a distant recall of his independence day and red lights had powered up displaying the full space of the cage, a tiny circular cell with torn to pieces restraints and along the roof also running beneath him hundreds of tiny electrical lamps bulbs had exploded. On the side that was supposed to be space, the atmosphere was being sucked out like in the science fiction movies when hull breaches in spaceships happened.

"Am I really in space?" Conner asked. He wasn't afraid of any air leaks. In theory, if Superman could behave like a space shuttle on steroids, so could he. His lung capacity had been measured to tell him the teenager was possibly capable of holding his breath for hours with no effort. "But who could afford to build and hide a base in space?"

Again, that traitorous voice exclaimed, Cadmus was perfectly happy and funded enough to arrange the construction of a moon base to hide all its dirty genetic experiments. He had been unconscious for god knows how many hours. Superman was pretty beaten up last Conner could remember any part of the titanic brawl in the city centre of Metropolis. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that they got to their former test subject the one time he was vulnerable and out in the open for easy extraction.

Just what was going on? He wanted answers, no needed them like life depended on it. Who were his captors? What did they want and why? This isolation after his traumatic ordeal didn't have Lex Luthor stamped on it, nor was it his style to leave important acquisitions to others to mediate. The man had promised to always be there for him when he awoke if the teen was injured or anything like a hospital that weren't his favourite places in the world to hang out in. Or Mercy, his sister, or perhaps more likely his aunt figure, at least would be sitting patiently while taking calls and making appointments as she waited. Lex treated his investments with care and Conner was under no illusions of being less than something Lex Luthor kept in reserve.

Besides, with his schedule Lex would have awoken him on his own terms to feed his son that steak before his busy work schedule got in the way. Mercy would have arranged that special drug they had made using synthetic blue kryptonite that let him absorb the relaxant if they were going to put him in a chamber like this…

And the alarm wouldn't have gone off if he were a patient…

Uncertainty collapsed his reasoning and that dastardly claustrophobia ruled supreme once again. His torso was clammy now, sticking to the metallic walls of his prison cell with sweat. The mystery light bulbs managed to get identified as something similar Lex had developed to speed up the absorption of solar radiation in his body much like the technology Cadmus had employed, but at a lesser efficiency.

That still reminded him of Cadmus, his metaphorical coven of devils that caused all the problems Conner Luthor would spend his life working through. He had to get out of here. Did he risk space? Was this really the moon or had he…

His x-ray vision took a full panoramic view of the chamber searching for answers. There was some state of the art technology in those walls and most of it unworldly. By reaching upwards, Conner identified a honeycomb of maintenance tunnels or what seemed to be them, storage areas and places that defied description. Each contributing piece of evidence of underground dwellings continued to send bolts of fear into his soul, tearing past what little was of his self-restraint.

The teen's eyes, prowling the rock like body of his underground cell for an escape caught sight of skeletons, living people charging to his position. With each newly discovered potential adversary, the likelihood of escaping from this place from there was increasingly unfavourable to the frightened man. If these men were really from Cadmus… The coincidences or anything that bore any offshoot to those sadist Frankenstein's monster makers the power they had over him in while stuck in captivity made his hands shake.

Conner balled his fists to control his visible fear but nothing could be done for the mental trauma he associated with Cadmus. In those memories dwelled something more powerful than any green rock or any insane space monsters. Something like a broken child cried out for him to get away from anyone that would lock them away in a small cramped space and leave them to wake up in there was bad news. The physical manifestation of his terror spread to his torso, making him seem like a man taking a dip in a frozen sea. The urge to crawl up into a ball and beg for mercy when those people that his eyes wouldn't stop staring at as they descended what appeared to be a lift shaft and those tunnels arrived, was stomped by the ever human quality known as 'fight or flight'. This instinct, ingrained in all humans, made him take the rather inhuman choice to take the chance with space.

It even could be a cruel fake, a lab rat test that they could be performing. While not sure entirely, Conner was almost certain the monsters of Cadmus had made the kryptonite exposed teenager do said tests, but the psychiatrist was positive most if not all of those days had been repressed. A fit from his overactive imagination from kryptonite poisoning or not, Conner Luthor had to cling to something… to find a reason to flee to and escape. Cadmus be damned! What could Conner Luthor use to settle this? What could that be though?

"Hurry up," Conner muttered to himself, mutinously despising his state of mind. That irrational hatred of hating his natural fear was infuriating to say the least. Why was it so hard to just blast his way through the wall and into open space? "Maybe because you haven't been into space before, Conner," he grumbled, biting his invulnerable palm with his teeth ineffectively restraining his ever shaking grasp.

Then, in the corner of his eye, where he had not been looking instead staring at the coldness of space that offered one method of escaping capture, people were approaching his room. Beyond the range of the mortuary, sat some kind of waiting room and out from that door, rapidly approaching, were five skeletons and one solid mass that defied x-rays and were only detectable because of the gigantic dent they made in the steel door leaving a hand print.

"They have a meta-human here," Conner whimpered, not liking anything that couldn't be seen with x-rays, "They could be more clones of Superman made from me only stronger, faster…" That made up his mind for him. He was in no shape to fight another Doomsday wannabe. It was cold in space with an airless vacuum to welcome him, but theory was going to be put into practice. He had to flee from this place.

Oh, and Conner was pretty sure he was going to be the least clothed man in space ever, as well.

Conner poked a finger through one of the holes in the damaged wall. He spread out his tactile telekinesis so to yank the jagged hole out deeper, his heat vision was making an irregular circle and his super strength was making the compromised steel bulkhead out to be no better than tissue paper. But, it worked. His overkill panicking mash up of the prison wall caved it through in moments, and the teenager let the suction of the room riding what was left of the obliterated wall, rock and all pull him out into the vacuum of space.

"Oh," Conner thought stupidly, speechless that the teenager was in fact in space… Or the best damn simulator ever built by man that had no ending that his x-ray or telescopic vision could elaborate on. For his first time in space, Conner's terror took a back seat to nothing.

Well, how were you meant to describe seeing your home planet for the first time from outer space? The beautiful blue sapphire of the Milky Way filled with twinkling stars that cradled the race of men while protecting it from the harshness of space. Conner, Kryptonian hybrid, a super man made to order, forgot his last glimpses of life on Earth had been consumed by a fight to the death or that the teen had just escaped an unknown prison cell manned by possibly the very evil people that spawned him. Conner Luthor's mind was filled instead with the infinite beauty of the cosmos and the planet Earth that rested in its protective grip.

Then Conner remembered he was an escapee from a jail on the moon, and looked down on the lunar surface for clues for anyone that might be in pursuit.

The moon in space was not exactly the most impressive thing Conner had ever seen. From the ground at night, the shine of the sun's rays gleaming off the grey lunar dust floor made it seem radiant, almost god like. Conner had remembered spending all night looking and admiring with unspeakable awe, as he embraced the cool breeze from his hospital window on his first night of freedom, two luxuries of nature denied to him in his underground cell.

Now, the moon seemed boring. It was just a grey ball of dust that fell well under the expectations of the teenager that had treated it as a treasure to savour from the ground. Just a mere rock, orbiting a diamond like world filled with life. It was almost beautified by the background of green and especially blue that was the planet.

But, there didn't seem to be any sign of pursuit or chase, and nothing on the surface at all that looked like a structure or docking pad or anything else off the top of his short black haired head could think about that a secret space station might need to survive. Perhaps he was home free, at last? Conner, if he could would have exhaled in relief.

"Now what do I do now?" Conner had few options, each as unappealing as the next. The first was to locate a space station in orbit and borrow a phone to call Lex to send his shuttle to pick him up. But that would cause a potential international incident if he chose wrong. Not everybody, like Russia, would welcome a westerner wandering in to use their facilities. Or he could find the rough location of America and make his own descent. Only problem with that was Conner had no idea how much time had passed since Doomsday, and the USA might not take kindly to an unidentified object blasting through the atmosphere. They might, you know, mistake it for a missile and think someone finally started a nuclear war.

And he was almost naked too, and those shorts he was wearing probably couldn't endure re-entry… and while culturally naïve at times due to ignorance, the teenager knew enough about cultural norms (not that he cared really) that flashing his anatomy at television cameras that would come running from the hubbub could embarrass Lex… He did not want to humiliate his father figure.

Then, without warning, the lunar surface beneath him began to ripple and contort like space and time were collapsing all around him. This shimmer that warped the crater ridden grey surface of the moon revealed an enormous artificial structure. It was shaped like a donut with a glittering yellow energy emitting tower on the top dead centre. Around the circular tube shaped oddly enough like a drill like tower, were numerous corkscrew like shaped tunnels that fed into the outer tube and again descending via elevators into the crust that stayed together with the donut outer domes with narrow glass corridors and taut metal wires that could only be seen by the light from the top. It was shimmering, a luminescence shade of silver that seemed almost alive like the very shadow of the ocean had been captured and imposed on its surface.

But, there was something certainly alien about it all. No human had invented camouflage like that yet. No army used it or any private company that would waste the money to build the base in the first place. Hell, there wasn't much about this installation that didn't contravene international law enough for it to remove its stealth capabilities while blatantly waving its existence to the world, just to rally capture teams from Cadmus, a group that breathed secrecy even after the government 'decommissioned' them (yeah, he wasn't an authorised experiment).

That brought some closure to the young hybrid. Whoever this was, it wasn't Cadmus that had held him prisoner. Well, he thought the owners of the invisible space station were holding him… Well, his best deductive conclusion suggested all that. That was a bit of a blur and an assumption based on the available facts.

Then, a hatch opened on the top of the tower and flying out at high speed was something, or someone, that felt hostile to the teenager. Or translation, after all the shit he had gone through, Conner Luthor was not taking any chances to take a moment to see what was coming at him.

Conner turned tail and ran in the direction of the nearest atmosphere, his wariness… okay, his moment of wisdom that picking a fight on the moon when his combined flying hours were less than the Wright plane's first flight was a very bad idea. Most of his brawling with Doomsday had been on the ground and flying had been used mostly to escape the holes the beast made with him as a battering ram and to evade the monster not that it helped much.

The teenager was faster in space and the further out of the moon's shadow he went the nearly naked teenager could almost touch the shock of power frying his solar charged cells. The naked, untainted rays of the sun were most potent here, ridding him of most if not all the nervousness trailing from his time in the cell. His soul felt cleansed and free, his destination was not too far ahead and according to his telescopic sight there was a small bulky looking space station with people inside…

That was when the powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and reminded Conner that the teen had been running away from the cloaked moon base… With the meta-human tracking him down… The rush like a drug that had passed through him via the powerful rays of the unimpeded sunlight ceased like a static shock going through him from the physical contact.

His fear acted and lashed out with his elbow. In space, with no gravity, the strength had been more than he had planned. It hit pay dirt, striking a rib and taking the air out of his enemy's lungs. Conner turned while still in motion, slapping the impossibly firm grip off his shoulder and jabbed where the teenager expected the face was according to the body blow to stop at the very last second.

Looming with a disarming, grin that was really awkward (not surprising considering the fright he had given Conner); Superman nursed his injured pride by rubbing his chest where his infamous S shield was crinkled.

As the teen withdrew his fist, Conner forgot what intelligent life was meant to be. This was Superman! He was staring at the man whose genetics created him. And this time, no monster from space was stopping him from gaping like a blunt toddler.

The man seemed utterly perfect, the real American hero in his red and blue spandex uniform. His world famous S shield stood out as his symbol to justice, honour and the amazing…ness of Superman, man of steel and wearer of cape that no other man could pull off without looking like an escaped asylum patient. Conner just froze like a statue, his fantasies (clean ones) of how this first contact occurred hadn't predicted meeting properly over a jail break. The man even had the perfect quiff in that impossibly impeccable black hair compared to his sensible, short black cut.

"Maybe it's on my mum's side where I got the hair," Conner thought, blatantly scanning the entire form of the Man of Steel. The Kryptonian had biceps that could probably move asteroids off their trajectories or smash their way through entire armadas on their own. Conner continued to examine, musing on idle thoughts of if this would be him someday.

He made the photographs in the Daily Planet look faked. His presence was impossibly almost omnipotent, like he was listening to the entire world in every moment like the theorists, as Cadmus predicted, as well as Lex on the stories he reluctantly told of their engagements, so unruffled as if every day had him fighting monsters to the death.

Conner stopped gazing the second he realised Superman had just floated there, as if letting the teen show he meant no threat while the Man of Steel did his own examination. There had been confirmed reports Superman's telescopic vision could be implemented like a microscope and maybe, just maybe, the blue suited caped hero was learning the truth.

Superman made a gesture and pointed to the rough coordinates of the moon base. At first, Conner shook his head violently. He had no desire to return to where he had been locked up in that small chamber with all those solar lamps… And…

"Wait," Conner said with his eyes widening and his mouth gaping. Superman looked alarmed, his eyes gave it away briefly before that stern but assuring expression repeated his pointing. "Did I just fucking escape from the Justice League headquarters?" Conner shook his head internally. "No way am I that unlucky," he added thoughtfully, "I already used up all my bad karma battling Doomsday…"

That was when karma decided his time as its bitch was not quite over yet. Soaring towards them with engines powerful enough to cause distortions, since in space you couldn't hear anything, was a spacecraft. It was immediately apparent that Conner had just indeed escaped from the Justice League of America's secret main headquarters, a location that Lex had tirelessly searched for on earth.

The celebrated Javelin type aircraft, constructed with the aid of Wayne Enterprises was said to be the modern pinnacle of adaptable aircraft. Sleek with a secret resin coating allowing it to come and go through the atmosphere at the pilot's whim and a hull capable of diving down deep into the ocean's depths the Javelin was a symbol of the JLA. It was an honour that no other nation could claim to possess, a symbol of hope for humanity when its powerful twin engines roared its battle cry into the battlefield. Built into two sections, one cone shaped module housing the cockpit and the other like the body of a manta ray the dirty green hulled vessel had done some miracles in its time (well what the press and Lex's archive footage had recorded).

"Great…" Conner thought, watching the craft swirl around him like a stalking shark. His telescopic vision hated small moving targets but he was able to see inside it was bristling with weaponry and in its cockpit through the glare created when it touched the sun the one man nobody wanted to mess with was piloting. "It had to be the Batman that came out to meet me in a heavily armoured spacecraft."

His eyes caught a green flash before a body stopped in front of him. The man was black, bald with a trimmed short beard and moustache and wore the iconic green and black uniform of the Green Lantern Corps. He was surrounded by a green energy field and, man, did this man not look happy to see him.

It seemed his day was getting worse by the moment. Conner now had to contend with a galactic defender as well. Superman had flown directly to his side now and pointed towards the base. The power ring user seemed to take that as a signal to flank him on the other.

Conner felt like a prisoner going down death row with all the powerful and beloved heroes leading him back to the base. He had no intention to escape now. Instead, Conner had to figure out a way to explain why he had trashed part of their clubhouse without the irate appearing Green Lantern smashing him around with his power ring.

Hero or not, Conner was not taking his chances. Superman seemed serene about all this; that helped cool the anxiety that had drifted out of him after escaping that cramped space. Conner was rational now, well, enough if a little underdressed for a meeting with a group of earth's mightiest superheroes. Lex had dubbed Superman the world's biggest Boy Scout and his son was betting on that to be true. Again, the unnatural green glowing eyes of the Green Lantern were glaring at him, making the teen float closer to the unaffected Superman who kept his gaze straight ahead at the opening docking port where the spacecraft had flown in.

Scouting ahead with his telescopic vision, people were waiting inside a hanger behind a barrier of some kind that distorted their features while the area was exposed to space. Soon the interrogation would begin.

"Where is Lex when you need him?" the super powered teenager grumbled thoughtfully, looking at both his father and the Green Lantern that was eyeing up a dust cloud that was probably where he had escaped from. "I hope they don't bill me for that."

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A/N Well there ya go people. After a bumpy start for our intrepid hero and his subsequently awesome first impression he gave to the Justice League we now get to the part everyone has been waiting on. Thanks to hockeygoalie1992 for the beta work. Go see him, he rules!