"Connor!"

Luthor's voice bellows through the chamber. He's…extremely adequate at keeping his emotions in check. Hell, he keeps everything about him in check. A finely-carved mask that he wears wherever he goes.

It's Luthor's way of control, I guess. He wears masks. Keeps himself at bay from everyone around him—if there in fact is anyone around him. The people that do associate with him, he controls. Ruthlessly, or so the legend goes.

"Step away from him," Luthor says. I keep afist locked on Black Adam, and turn to Luthor.

He's armed himself. His right hand is clenched around a small silver handgun held tightly against his waist. The corners of his mouth angle downward, and draw up towards the center. Grim determination.

I'm holding Adam in a half-hearted chokehold. It's tricky, trying to keep attention on two fronts. If I lose focus on Adam, he could Shazam me into next week. And I want to hear what Luthor has to say.

"Or what?" I ask. "You'll shoot me? Come on, Lex, you know bullets can't hurt me."

"Maybe not. But the Kryptonite bullet in the chamber might. Care to test a theory?"

For a minute, I lose concentration. Adam falls out of my grip and I shrink a bit. I'm almost offended that Luthor would actually shoot me. Or at least consider shooting me. This was all a matter of principle. I came to Luthor because I thought he could give me answers.

Now he's just aiming a gun at me.

"You wanna tell me what this is about, Lex?"

"Oh yes," he says calmly. "I intend to."

"Good. Or else the heat vision kicks in."

"Oh please, Connor," Luthor says in disgust. "That is a veiled threat, and we both know it. Do you remember what I told you? Why this Society was created?"

"To keep the League in check," I say, half-questioning.

"Partly. But also to build our own strength. Are we doing it for Dr. Light? Not entirely. He is simply a rallying cry. An example of what the enemy can do when left unchallenged. Yes…we are merely a response to injustice."

"Then you don't really care what happens to Light. This is just a manufactured threat?"

"Not really. Insofar as Light is a rallying cry for our cause, he's a symbol. Proof that the League is no better than we are."

"And you're out to prove that point."

"Yes," Luthor says plainly. "We have recruited over 200 members into this Society. And only a few have stood against us, claiming their own primacy...or that we are just as corrupt as the League."

"So what do you do with them?"

"Make an example," Luthor says with a reserved smile. "Show them that we are the new order and they…are useless. Unless they join us. Only together can we defend ourselves."

"And you wanted to recruit me?"

"Yes. You possess great power, Connor. Too great a power to waste. What I'm offering you? What awaits you in this Society? It's beyond anything you have ever dreamed. All you have to do…is want it."

My head lowers to the floor in concentration.

"Well," Luthor says expectantly. "Yes…or no?"

And then I see it. Them…

An explosion rocks the chamber. A flash of orange red, and white blows a hole in the middle of the main floor, flings Luthor, Bart and Black Adam outward against the nearest solid object.

I drop into a crouch, shielding myself from the blast—marginally at least. The heat from the blast washes over me, blowing me to the floor in a lazy sprawl.

I stand groggily, wiping my eyes. The chamber's loaded with dust and smoke and God knows what else. I can't make out anything. Just a few rough shapes around me. Bart, Luthor, Tim…hard to tell.

And then, as soon as it came, the smoke is gone. Whirling out of the room like some kind of tornado, dispersing into the walls and floor, the smoke leaves small trails—wisps—as it diffuses into the atmosphere.

The chamber's clear enough now for me to see them.

They're standing on the edge of the hole they blew in the floor.

Batman...and Batgirl. Weird

"Nice of you to stop by," I say.

Neither of them says anything. Batgirl walks toward Bart, helping him to his feet, while Batman approaches me. I do a quick look-around and see that Luthor's out of sorts. He manages to get to a knee, inspects his immediate surroundings as if to make sure he's still in one piece. I turn away from him, back to Batman.

"How long have you been waiting down there?"

"Long enough," he says. Not a wasted movement.

"So you were just waiting? For what?"

"The right time," Batman says. He looks around, surveying the damage like some Field Marshal at war. "We're done here."

"What do you mean 'we're done'?" I say, anger creeping into my voice. Batman stands a few inches higher than me. I lift off the floor to stare straight into his eyes. Too bad for me though, that he's wearing the same Star-lite lenses in his cowl that Robin does. "You're not gonna try to take them into custody?"

Batman looks past me, at Luthor. I turn to see ol' Baldy shuffle the gun back into his jacket and dust himself off. He straightens his tie and stares back at Batman narrowly.

"No," Batman says, coming back to me. "He's not important."

"Not important! Do you know what they're doing here? What they're trying to accomplish?"

"Yes," he says, unmoved. "And for the moment, it's not a concern."

Batman turns away from me. He heads for Tim, across the room.

"Dammit," I mutter, and turn away. I head for Bart, but stop short. My eyes go to the ceiling, and turn to my left. To Luthor. He's leaning against the wall. Casual. His arms are folded confidently over his chest, and a burning cigarette is screwed between his lips. A smile creeps across his face. And for a moment, something inside me snaps.

"What!"

Luthor snickers, glances at the ground and comes back to me. "You."

"What do you mean?"

"I would have thought you had more control over yourself." He pushes off from the wall and walks past me, towards the dais. Before he reaches his ottoman, he turns back to me. "I was wrong," he says plainly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought I could help you. Make you into something greater. Something worthy of your bloodline. But I misjudged you."

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Warm. I turn slowly to see its source: Tim.

"Come on," he says quietly. "He doesn't matter anymore."

I turn back to Luthor, staring at him for a moment. And he stares right back at me. His eyebrows are angled sharply as he catalogues me. His arms are folded over his chest, neatly pressing the black tie against his frame.

And for a moment, I wonder. What could have been? Would it really have been so hard to go along with Luthor?

Yes, or so I tell myself.

I turn away, towards the open doors. Robin's standing in the threshold, with Bart slung around his shoulder. Batman and Batgirl stand next to Tim. Even through Batman's mask I can see his impatience.

My head drops in a half-assed kind of defeat. I join up with Tim.

Behind us, the massive utility doors slide shut. Sealing us from Luthor's society.

Luthor slumped in his Ottoman, steepling his fingers, staring into space. Deep in concentration or so he would have you believe. Calculator—Noah Kuttler—stepped up the dais. Dr. Psycho and Black Adam flanked Luthor on one side. Calculator takes the left side.

"Superboy never wanted to be a part of this, Lex," Kuttler says empathetically.

"Maybe so," Luthor said. "But it was worth it."

"Was it?" Dr. Psycho asked. "Worth getting beaten by kids in costumes?"

"It was more than that," Luthor replied. "This was a most effective demonstration of the Society's power. You've done well. All of you."

"What about Deathstroke?" Dr. Psycho rasped. "He sold us out! We ought to string him up by his short and curlies!"

"Psycho," Luthor said in annoyance. "That was Deathstroke."

Psycho's lips rounded, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. Confusion. "I...don't follow."

"You know as well as I do. Robin and the Kid Flash had one purpose in coming here: to retrieve Connor. To that end, they had to get inside."

"They needed a mole," Talia said slowly, as if having been shown a great revelation. "Someone who knew this place. Batman was the logical choice."

"Indeed," Luthor said. "Robin needed someone who could pass as believable to Connor and Bart. Though I'm sure even if it was the real Batman, neither of them would have noticed."

"Robin knew it was Slade?" Calculator asked.

"Yes. He shows...promise."

"He is clever," Talia said. "Like his mentor."

Continued...