"Lois."

The voice floods the living room, and from behind me a shadow casts itself across the floor. It doesn't matter how many times you meet him—or even that you're made of part of him, that you associate with him fairly regularly, that you know the secret identity—it's always an experience. The rush of a roller-coaster…without the wind in your face.

Superman.

He's not just a man. He's something more. A myth…Apollo and Hermes in one brightly-colored box. Thanks to Cass, I know who Apollo and Hermes are now. So I'm learning. It's a great feeling. To be expanding, evolving. To become something more than, well let's be honest, stunning good looks. Wink.

Lois dog-ears the page of her crossword, closes the book and tosses it on the sofa next to me. She leans back in her chair and folds her hands over her stomach. I turn my head to see Clark—still in his Super-gear.

"Busy night?" Lois says in Clark's general direction.

Clark smiles and sits beside me on the couch, lifting one leg and crossing it over the other and resting an arm on the armrest beside him. He looks relaxed. It's a far cry from the hovering Superman who can burn your head off with a wink.

"Not too bad," Clark says. "Stopped some car thefts down around the docks. And a real nasty protest over in the Slum."

"It happens," Lois says with a smile. "As long as nobody got hurt, right, Clark?"

"I guess," Clark dismisses. Yeah…boatloads of humility. "So uh, what brings you to our neck of the woods, Conner?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping we could talk. You and me."

"Alright."

"Can we, uh, go for a flight?"

Clark lifts out of the couch, floating a few feet off the floor. "Lois," he says guud-humoredly.

"Smallville," she says without missing a beat.

"How 'bout some coffee when we get back?"

"You got it."

Superman leads me out of 1938 Sullivan through the French Doors and into the skies above the Big Apricot. Who even came up with that name? New York's board of tourism would be appalled.

At this altitude, Clark and I can talk without fear of being overheard. Not that it matters, I guess. Still…

"Are you up for it?" Clark asks. No…not Clark. Right now, he's Superman. For the purposes of this discussion…it's Superman.

"Up for what?"

"A circle around the globe."

"Ohhh," I say with an apprehensive grin. A light bulb clicks. "I see what you're up to. You wanna see if you can still beat me."

"Hey," Superman says lightly. "Wally usually falls for it."

"You're on."

The land, the sea, the mountains. They all blur into one endless stretch of brown and gray beneath us. It's surprisingly easy to think this way. Nothing to distract you, nothing to look for or shift focus.

"So what did you need, Conner?"

"It's Luthor," I say without hesitation.

Superman glances over at me and his eyes drift away a few seconds. I can almost hear a sigh. Impatience or agitation. Hard to tell which.

"What is it?" I ask.

"So...he told you, did he?"

"Wait," I say. I drop my speed to a halt in an instant. Superman stops with me. "What?"

Superman folds his arms over his chest and bows his head. "I wanted to tell you. I should have."

"You knew," I say. I'm caught somewhere between offense and disappointment. "Cadmus, Luthor's DNA…all of it."

"t's unfortunate that Lex beat me to the punch. But since we seem to be on the same page—"

"How long have you known?" I say brusquely. "Were you in on this with him?"

"Take it easy," Superman says calmly.

"Take it easy? What am I to you, some joke? You think you can just walk all over me?"

"Of course n--"

"Yeah, yeah. Supergirl shows up, you roll out the welcome mat for her. And you kept me out of the loop for months, Clark."

"Calm down. This isn't about Kara. It's about you. And right now I'm telling you. I should have told you before now. But I wasn't sure you were ready. I was protecting your interests."

"Fine," I say dismissively. "Just…just tell me what he wants with me."

"Come on," Superman says, picking up speed. I follow suit and before I know it we're back at that trans-light speed. Staring at the blur of grey beneath us.

"I did know," Superman says. "And I was keeping it from you. But for good reasons. You were a relative newcomer. You had little exposure to our world. If the knowledge of your lineage got out in the open…I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I wasn't going to be held responsible for any harm done to you."

"And you never thought I could protect myself?" I ask.

"No," Superman answers swiftly. "I knew you could. But when Lex got elected, my fears grew. He had that knowledge of your lineage—and more—at his fingertips, Conner. Literally. I didn't want to run the chance of him launching some government crusade against metas over a wounded ego."

"Your fears were unfounded," I say bluntly. "I could have handled it."

"I know that now," Superman says quietly. "But I misjudged you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I say. "Just tell me what he wants. So I can stop him."

"When you saw him, did he say anything to you?"

"He wanted me to join this Society of his. A bunch of super-villains. Said they were doing it as protection against the League…whatever that means."

Superman glances at me briefly. "It doesn't mean anything," he says swiftly. "What else did he say?"

"Not much. Robin showed up with Batman soon after that and they led us out of Luthor's bunker."

"Anything else?"

"One question. When I busted out of Cadmus and found my way to the city, I found some TV footage of Luthor. But he wasn't bald. This Luthor had a beard and long red hair."

"That was Lex Luthor the second. The elder Lex's son."

"So…it was his DNA that cloned me?"

"Well," Superman says with a pause. "Yes. By the time of my death and your cloning, Lex Luthor the first had died of a kryptonite-related cancer. It started in his hand and eventually consumed his whole body. A few months after his death, his son showed up—from Australia."

"Wow," I say. "That's…kinda crazy."

"It gets crazier. Luthor the younger wasn't really anyone's son. He was a clone—a more youthful body housing the brain of Lex the first."

"Then it wasn't really Lex's DNA?" I ask, a speck of hope coming into my head.

"Oh it was," Superman says. "Even clones have similar genes. The clone Luthor carried the precise genetic signature of the older Luthor, with slight modifications, the largest one being the hair thing."

"So he was right. There's some Luthor inside me after all…"

"Yes," Superman says. "But you don't have to like it. You don't have to let it control you."

"Noah?"

"Lex?"

"Is the connection established?"

"It will be. Give me a few minutes."

"That's time we don't have, Kuttler."

"Don't last-name me, Lex. You know better than anyone that genius doesn't work to some timetable."

"That's clever."

"Once the connection's established, do you wish to take action?"

"Not yet. Wait for confirmation from Switzerland."

"Then what?"

"Then, Noah…we meet those 'other goals' we talked about."

Continued...
and special notice to the reader who figures out what's so important in Switzerland;).