WARNINGS: Uhm… not much… Lex Luthor feels? Does that count? Other than that nothing we haven't seen before. Talon's got a potty mouth, but so does JJ so I think we're in the clear here.
-Superboy POV-
"So is it okay?" JJ asked, beaming up at me. He'd been subjected to an electric powered wheelchair, a sling, and a lot of bandages before they let him out of the infirmary. He'd been displeased and reluctant but accepted, eager to get back to his lab so he could work on… whatever it was that JJ worked on in there. I wasn't sure what it was.
"Uh… is what okay?" I asked. He just sort of wandered up and asked me. Was I expected to know what he was talking about?
JJ frowned pretty hard at that. "Did I not talk about this?"
"No, talk about what?" I wondered. JJ had mentioned that his mind skipped things sometimes and that his memory wasn't very reliable… apparently this was part of it.
"I wanna look at your DNA. Yer a clone, right? So I wanna see what Kryptonian DNA looks like and I wanna check that nobody fucked anything up making you, just in case. Ah mean, messing with people's DNA is dangerous. It can go really, really wrong. Jus' look at me. Both meh parents got doused 'n various chemicals, and things just sorta went downhill from there. Nah to psych you out or anythin', but ih seems like a good idea."
The way JJ explained it, it seemed like a perfectly logical concern. I didn't know what Cadmus had done to me, and as much as it made me uncomfortable, I had a right to know and an obligation to ensure that none of it would place my team in danger. Wally gave me the moon. Robin gave me my freedom. Kaldur gave me guidance. M'gann gave me kindness. JJ gave me the ability to choose. I was going to find a way to pay them back for that. And I'd start by fighting beside them and protecting them with everything I have. Right after I had JJ make sure I wouldn't be a danger to them myself.
"Yeah, sure," I agreed, "Go for it. Do you need my blood or-"
"I couldn' make you bleed if I tried," JJ dismissed, "Yer saliva'll due."
The next second there was some sort of cue tip jabbed down my throat and JJ was whirring off to his lab, giggling happily. I wasn't sure how I hadn't seen him coming, how he'd reached my head and manhandled me when I was so much bigger and taller than him and he only had one arm or why he was so excited about my spit. Listening to his heartbeat he didn't sound like he was going to have an episode, just like he was happy. I decided to inform Wally and Robin that he was giggling excessively anyway. Better safe than sorry. The more people I had helping me protect JJ from himself the better.
-JJ POV-
I glared at the screen, absolutely certain that it was lying to me. I tried again and got the same results. Holy shit those are real. So I did the natural thing. I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"AAAAGGGGHHHH! I'M FUCKING PSYCHIC! I'M SO SORRY! I JINXED IT!" I stopped screaming, not sure what to say. Deciding I was still freaking out though, I screamed again. "AAAGGGHHH!"
Racer was right next to me. "JJ, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, "Why are you screaming?" I pointed him at the screen so he could understand the magnitude of what I'd just discovered. "... You know I'm a chemist not… I think I'm looking at biology here?" Or not.
I smacked myself in the face. Racer was a good chemist and had a decent grasp of the rest of the major sciences, but obviously not advanced neo-genetics. Which made him pretty useless here. The rest of the team had more or less assembled in the doorway, Marvin flying in over their heads to hover over my other table, the one covered in robotics. "Don't touch that," I warned her. Most of it was me trying to make a lightsaber so it was for her own good.
"JJ, what's happened?" Gills asked, frowning at me. "You were shouting a minute ago. We were worried."
I looked over his shoulder at a glowering Superboy. "Uh…" I hesitated. "It's your results," I told him, "Do you want me to… not tell them or… I mean, um, it's your call." I didn't want to go blurting out what was really just his business, especially not when I was trying to get the guy practice making his own decisions.
Superboy hesitated. "It's fine," he decided momentarily, but with finality. "You can tell them."
I beamed at him, nodding to myself. "Secrets don't make friends." I agreed. "Dickiebird, do you know what this says?" I asked him.
He frowned at the screen. "It's… DNA testing. Batman does them all the time. But… I don't see the readout of whose it is…"
Oh yeah. My brain's just like that. I'd hacked the batcave's files on DNA and memorized them. And by that, I mean I memorized everyone's DNA sequences. I didn't need to plug the separated DNA strands back into the program to know whose they were. I forgot other people weren't like that.
"So, I wanted ta check your DNA," I explained to Superboy, "originally to make sure that they didn' fuck up with anything. I mean, to my knowledge, people 'ere on earth don' have much practice clonin' alien DNA so I wanted to make sure ya still had a healthy lifespan and everything, that you wouldn't up and die or develop problems later on or anythin' like that." I hesitated. "Turns out your fine. But only because you're not fully Kryptonian."
"I'm not fully…" Superboy trailed off, letting that sink in.
"No. An' I can tell why too. Lookin' at what they have of Kryptonian DNA, they'd have to be an idiot to try and make an entire person out of this. Physically you'd be mostly okay but mentally? Not so much. It would not be pretty, especially with the pre-programed 'defeat Mr. Underwear' thing you had going for a bit there. So they basically filled the gaps in Kryptonian DNA wi' human, to keep you sane. It's not perfect, probably why yhe've still got occasional anger issues, but it'll keep you quite adequately functional. You'll age a tad slower externally 'n most humans, but I think that's probably fine. Your lifespan's still the same, you'll just age half as fast on the outside. Unfortunately your human DNA looks like it'll keep you from ever completely developin' your full powers, even though ya obviously have the genetic potential for it… I think I can work with that but that's a project for another day. I also checked that ya have a belly button while I was at it. You do."
Superboy gave me a flat stare before lifting up his shirt and showing me his stomach. I huffed. I hadn't thought of that. I probably should have. It would have been easier.
"None of this explains why you freaked out though," Dickiebird noted snrewdly, expertly ignoring the belly button issue. "What's up, JJ?"
I glanced at Superboy again to see his nod of confirmation. Well, if he's certain…
I held up a finger and dragged the second DNA strand into a new program, one I never really bothered to use. It held a record of all the major DNA sequences Bossy B had catalogued over the years and who they belonged to. For the hell of it, I ran the original too. The results pinged up, with pictures and everything.
Mr. Underwear's face was up there. Right next to Lex Luthor's.
Racer yelped. Dickiebird cursed and muttered something about informing Bossy B. Gills looked completely stunned and took a half-step back from the screen in shock. Marvin seemed confused, obviously not recognizing Baldy for who he was. Superboy just frowned.
"So yeh're pretty much the love child of Baldy and Mr. Underwear," I informed him tactlessly. "An' I thought my family was fucked up. Throw a little filicide in there an' I think we'd be tied." Admittedly, it was a joke in poor taste. My phone went off. I picked it up almost immediately. "Hoodie?"
-Red Arrow POV-
I woke up. That alone wasn't much of a surprises. I'm used to pulling though though situations, granted not usually against Deathstroke the Terminator, but still. In this business, you just sort of build up a resistance to surprise after a while. Waking up after an attack had long since stopped registering as a surprise. Waking up on the roof wasn't that weird either. But the fact that nobody was nearby was a clue that something was off. And my hand was uninjured. Deathstroke had sent a throwing knife through it earlier. This hand should definitely not be uninjured. My hand was also wrapped around a metal feather.
Talon. I realized. He must've drawn them off. And healed given me the Nth metal feather to heal my hand. That complete idiot had tried to sacrifice himself for me. Which was the opposite of what was supposed to happen. I was the hero here. Not the other way around. But I had no means of finding him. Talon could be anywhere by now, especially considering the fact that the sun was up when it wasn't even on the horizon when I blacked out. Deathstroke could easily have recaptured him by now.
I needed help. I pulled out my cell phone and glared at it. I called JJ.
"Hoodie?" Well he picked up quick.
"Is the team busy? Because I have a mission for you. And I'm warning you now, it's going to be weird."
"Obviously I can't come because, you know, wheelchair and all, but everyone else is available. Let me put you on speaker."
-Lex Luthor POV-
I took a moment to observe him. Currently, the boy was confined to an electronic wheelchair, one leg elevated flat out in front of him and one arm in a sling, limiting the range of motion he could display in his shoulder. There were several bandages carefully and neatly wrapped around his ribs and collarbone, a small patch on one forehead covering what was probably a large cut. Largely healed bruising appeared around his throat where someone had obviously tried to strangle him. He wore a sweatshirt, unzipped, a muddy sort of green color, unwashed and oversized, revealing the bandages beneath and only allowing one arm through the sleeve because of the sling. His pants were jeans, again muddy, worn at the knees and generally unsalvageable. His shoes overworn sneakers, well tread and falling apart at the seams, belt covered in pouches and various tools and weapons, including several knives, guns, small explosives, a phone, a wrench, a stapler, a keychain of the bat signal, a notebook, and what looked suspiciously like a lightsaber. It was his green hair and eyes that identified him to me though. This was the son of the Joker and Harley Quinn, JJ. And he was in my office. It was nearly my lunch break. "You don't have an appointment." I accused blandly as my new… guest wheeled himself up in front of me. It was a horrid chair, that whirring noise was infuriating and it didn't look overly comfortable. It was also to big for him. I automatically started mentally designing a new one before stopping that train of thought. I was not inventing a new wheelchair for this intruding child.
"Yeah I do, see?" he held up a phone, a digital copy of my schedule for the day on it. I glanced at my own phone to confirm it. Talk with JJ: 12:30- 2:00 was written in. I may have been vaguely impressed. "I'm awesome," he explained, "Also, yhe've got a hacker problem. An' you should probably talk to your secretaries about letting in obviously suspicious children."
I glared at him. "Not if I have you arrested," I pointed out mildly.
JJ shrugged carelessly with his uninjured shoulder. "Before ya even know what I want? Bad business."
He was right of course, killing him now would be wasteful, especially because he'd bleed all over my new carpeting, but I still hated it when other people thought they were as smart as me. "And what is it that you want?"
"To talk to you, obviously." Okay so he obviously wasn't as smart as me. The Joker's son was missing a few screws. Predictable. That did not mean however that I was happy about having a mentally unstable person in my office.
"And what was it exactly that you wanted to talk with me about?" Patience is not my strong suite. I run a multi-billion dollar company. Time is money. I prefer not to waste it.
"You had a love-child with Superman."
No matter how intelligent I am, that sentence was bound to throw me for a moment. "That's not how I'd phrase it. I merely volunteered my genetic information to-"
"Have a love child, yeah, I c'n see that," JJ interrupted me. The temptation to have him killed increased. It would be so easy. "If you jus' wanted him smarter, you'd've made sure he got your brains. You didn'. Jus' gave him half your DNA. An' you didn' make an adult clone. He's about sixteen, still a kid. You had Mr. Underwear's child. You loved with him, didn't you?"
I started at him. JJ's eyes were intensely (unnaturally) green. And for all that those eyes belonged to someone who was technically a child, I could see that there was an intelligence and maybe even a wisdom in them beyond his years. "There's no point in lying to you. So yes, as much as it is possible for someone like me to love someone."
JJ just hmmed, not breaking eye contact. "And now?"
"I'm a villain," I stated simply. That really was all the answer I needed to give. JJ was smart enough to understand.
"You're the darker end of grey," he argued.
"We know that," I agreed. "And we also know that he'll never be able to see that."
JJ nodded, finally breaking eye contact. Those eyes were so intensely green it felt as though he had been weighing my soul. It was a relief to finally have him blinking again. Not of course that I gave any outward indication of that. I'd long ago learned how to control my physical reactions, including my heartbeat, when confronted with something uncomfortable. If I could fool Superman, I could fool this kid.
"'M sorry, I was making you uncomfortable," he apologized.
Or maybe not. "You're more observant that Superman," I observed, fishing for an explanation.
"Maybe I can jus' see something he can't," the boy offered slyly.
"Superman has electro-magnetic spectrum vision, telescopic vision, microscopic vision, x-ray vision and heat vision," I reminded him dryly. "What can you possibly see that he can't?"
JJ just smiled. That confirmed that he really did have a type of vision Superman lacked, not just the ability to notice emotions better. Interesting. I might have to look into this.
"Nothing in this conversation has really revealed any new information to you, so what did you really come here for?" I asked. JJ may have confirmed his suspicions about my feelings towards Superman, but that wasn't worth the risk of coming here in person. No. He was after something else.
"I wanted ta see if you were worthy of being my friend's dad," JJ explained with a shrug. "He deserves someone who's not an asshat. Obviously the Ubermensch doesn't qualify."
"And your verdict?" I raised one brow lazily. It was a mannerism I'd affected to make it seem as though I didn't particularly care one way or the other about anything.
"… I'll let 'im decide," JJ decided finally. "If you reach out to 'im that is. Obviously your willingness would have to be part of it. I've told him about yer relation already though. 'E had the right to know. But that's it."
"You haven't mentioned how I'm currently considered an international supervillain by certain circles or my connections to Superman?" I confirmed, already knowing his answer and finding myself mildly surprised by it.
"No. He'll do his own lookin' and form his own opinions. I'll not let him be some sort of weapon or tool," there was a hint of warning there which I took note of. Not because I was at all threatened by JJ, but because his defensiveness interested me. "He's me friend."
"I see," I agreed without giving any actual confirmation. "Would you care to have lunch with me? I believe there is still time in my schedule for that."
JJ brightened. We both knew that had been intentionally done by him but affected the pretense of it being coincidental. "If you're payin', who am I to say no?"
Lunch was just as telling as the meeting had been.
Afterward I reviewed everything JJ had given away, both about himself and about Superboy. JJ had mentioned Ubermensch. That meant JJ had read Niche. And understood it. He could do more than just hack. This was further confirmed by him mentioning Superboy's genetics. He didn't sound as though he were parroting the Batman. He understood advanced neo-genetics. It was a disparagingly small field of study, suggesting that he understood the wider spectrum of adaptive genetics. JJ considered Superboy his friend and was highly protective of him. And if that wasn't a weakness that could be exploited I didn't know what was. Hurting Superboy would hurt JJ, which suggested that the reverse was probable as well. Youth responded eagerly to affection. Superboy was probably just as protective of JJ as JJ was of him. He failed to pick up on several common social cues. That could likely be attributed to what was doubtlessly a plethora of mental deficiencies and imbalances inherited from his parents and reinforced by his childhood. The full range of his issues was both unimportant and uncertain. JJ could see either emotions or personality, possibly the fluctuations therein. This was an ability I had not yet come across. From what I could gather, he could physically see it as a layer to his vision. I wasn't sure how vast crowds, personal emotional states, levels of wakefulness, or physical obstacles would affect this vision either. JJ may or may not possess additional abilities, along with his accelerated healing, which he obviously inherited from his mother, though not on a level that would be helpful within the confines of a single battle. I was unable to tell if he was on pain medication or if he normally behaved as he did, though if he wasn't that suggested an increased pain tolerance of the kind often found in fast-healers. JJ's current injuries had been given to him by the Joker, whom he obviously no longer considered family. He had too much faith in familial bonds to be considered healthy or average for a supervillain, though probably about average for a hero. After that my observations pottered off to menial observations as to JJ's interests (StarWars, charitable foundations, the insufficiency of the English language (we finished the discussion in Japanese)) and the extent of his current injuries (previously life-threatening, currently an annoyance and liability). Considering the length of our conversation, JJ certainly hadn't given away much. It was rare someone could make me feel as though I had given more information than I received, not to mention counteractive.
Granted, the only reason JJ could deduce so much was because of that vision of his. I'd need to keep an eye on him. Neither of his parents had that ability, and that made him both unique and potentially dangerous since I didn't know the full extent of his powers. Being able to discern my feelings towards Superman were probably just the start.
My feelings towards Superman. JJ had called it love, but I'm not convinced that I truly know how to feel such a thing. I certainly felt no familial love growing up, having murdered several of my family members, and romantic love isn't really a consideration what with three past failed marriages. So far. (AN: Lex and Clark's backstories are loosely based off the Smallville-verse. I haven't actually watched all 11 seasons or whatever, but that's the main vibe I'm going for here.) I'd always known I had a darkness within me and that it eventually soured all my interpersonal relationships, usually in a more permanent fashion. Superman is the only person who has ever been able to survive me. And since his world of black and white morality excluded me from standing by his side, I will continue to stand as his opposition.
Superboy was… an act of vanity, I suppose. I have never cared particularly much about the lives of those I step over to reach my desires. I did not create him out of some misguided search for an heir, nor particularly because I needed another weapon, particularly with Project Talon in the works. For all the rationalizing I gave the Light, Project Kr was not designed to destroy Superman. That much should be obvious to anyone of intelligence, though sadly so few qualify for that I doubt anyone even realized: Superboy is incapable of defeating Superman. Because of his human DNA, he's too weak, at least without enhancements. Perhaps I could work with that, for all that it's a project for another day. No, Superboy's purpose was exactly what JJ said it was: To create a child of both myself and Superman. Not out of some menial desire for domesticity, but because I wanted Superman to have something of mine, and because I myself wanted something of his. A child was relatively permanent and wouldn't be thrown away or lost like so many other things.
Surely the Man of Steel couldn't ignore his own flesh and blood? That would be a betrayal of what he stood for, the American Dream and other such melodramatic idealistic drivel. Apparently though I had misjudged him. Superboy was made by 'the bad guys' and was therefore evil in Superman's mind. There would be no getting around that. Superboy was a failure of his true intended purpose.
That being said, he was still potentially useful to me. How many Kryptonians, or even part-Kryptonians are wandering around, especially carrying around so few preconceptions and expectations with them? Superboy would not be wary of me. JJ hadn't warned him away. That was foolish of him, but useful. I could work with that. The easiest way to capture Superboy's attention would be through Project Match, of course. I had no doubt that he'd see the clone as his 'brother' in need of help or something similar. Maybe I should mention Projects Talon and CAT too while I was at it? No, better not to show my full hand just yet. Perhaps in time. A peace offering would be necessary too, I could create something to temporarily enhance Superboy's Kryptonian heritage? No, that would be far too dangerous in the hands of Superman, should he ever get a hold of it. Something to suppress his human half then? Yes, that would serve me better. After all, he should be able to hold his own against Superman, right?
There was a phone call waiting when I returned to my office. Breaking myself out of my thoughts, I answered it. "What do you mean Project Talon has been compromised?! Why didn't you contact me directly instead of my office?!" Checking my pocket, I realized I didn't have my phone.
I added pickpocketing to my mental list of JJ's abilities. That brat.
-Talon POV-
Let me say this: Deathstroke the fucking Terminator is a fucking asshole. And very persistent. I've been flying for hours and every time I stop, either something stabs me, I get shot or ropes come out of nowhere, trying to recapture me. Obviously my only saving grace is that Deathstroke isn't actually out to kill me, just to catch me again. If he wanted me dead I'm sure I would be by now, even with the healing factor I've got. All his attacks are aimed to injure or disable. And let me tell you, I was getting tired. Even having flown what I considered a safe Deathstroke didn't miss a beat keeping up. I thought he was human! How come he can keep up with a Thanagarian clone in the air?! Normal people can't do shit like that!
I landed on the highest branch I could find that would support my weight in a pine tree. Those suckers are tall so I figured I might be okay. Until a bullet shot straight up my back and I fell, hitting what felt like every. Single. Fucking. Branch. On my way down. May I remind you that it was a very tall tree? Yeah. The bullet had entered through my lower back and exited somewhere in my chest. Probably pierced a lung along the way judging by the amount of blood I was breathing in. The pain was bad, though it was nothing I hadn't handled before. I could take the pain. If I could remember which way was up. Or even sit up.
Okay, I think I'm on the ground right now. That's solid. Let's try moving now. Shit. I can't move until my wing heals. I'm grounded. And Deathstroke would be right behind me. I was going to go back. Or they'd move me. Or they'd just kill me. Obviously I'd failed. Failure meant death. I don't want to die. I need to move. I managed to get to my hands and knees, wobbling to one side. My right wing was twisted at an ugly angle. I needed to set it before it started healing wrong. I hated re-breaking bones. A foot stomped onto my back and I flatted out against the ground.
"It was a nice try, kid," a deep, masculine voice told me. Deathstroke, I realized, He got me. I'm doomed. "But this was always going to be the end result. You should've made a run for the city. You're only useful because nobody knows about you. Unfortunately, your little helper might have to die, but we can work around that. Time to head back."
Red Arrow? No! I didn't want him in danger for helping me. He should be rewarded, not thanked with death. He didn't deserve to die. But there was nothing I could do. No way for me to beat Deathstroke when I was in optimal shape, nevermind now when I was injured, hungry, tired and weak.I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. Crying was weakness. Weakness meant failure. Failure meant death. I wanted to live.
I wasn't going quietly. I bunched up my muscles for one final resistance, knowing it would fail and perfectly willing to try anyway, knowing that there were obvious tells and Deathstroke would be ready for my attempt, knowing that Red Arrow would die soon after, knowing I was weak enough to deserve death and not wanting it anyway.
A black blur tackled Deathstroke from the side. A yellow blur darted back and forth, punching him a few times. Exploding disks came out of nowhere and … something whipped out and hit him in the chest. I was too dizzy and confused to do anything really. An arrow was cut out of the air, though it would have collided with Deathstroke's remaining eye. What the fuck is going on? The answer was not forthcoming.
"Fine," Deathstroke decided, "If his existence is compromised, you can keep the brat. He's a failure anyway." There was a whoosh of smoke before he disappeared.
Someone rushed over and knelt by me. I think I thanked them by vomiting blood on their shoes. Oops.
Okay so Lex is kinda prone to internal monologuing. Is anyone surprised? If your eyes just sorta glazed over at that part, I don't blame you. It was exhausting to write. On the upside: Hey, look! I wrote something! Aren't you proud?
