I checked myself in the mirror, making sure I was presentable.

Not that I was expecting to be anywhere. Father had… not been particularly pleased with my 'admission' that I'd been in contact with one of Superman's pals, and though he'd managed to get my completely true explanation out to the public, I'd had to make a few allowances in the process.

(Speaking of Superman… apparently Batman had pretty much just strolled out of STAR Labs with Big Blue following along behind him. How exactly he'd entered the building- or the city, for that matter- was a mystery, since nobody had seen a Batmobile anywhere during the whole incident. Apparently Gotham's crime rate had dropped for a little bit when that was made known on the news.)

Tugging at the edge of my skirt, I frowned. Having to actually figure out how to wear the damn things was one of those little allowances. Clothes with open legs were not my idea of something comfortable to wear, except maybe dressing gowns, but apparently it was a 'required skill' or something like that- and one that I was yet to learn.

There were other things, but he wouldn't notice most of those regardless of whether I did them or not. It had been one of those rants I could generally ignore save for the instructions contained within, fortunately. No 'oh, boo hoo, my daughter isn't a robotic underling' nonsense on that day, thank God.

Still, despite Father's pettiness, I had generally been in a good mood recently. Part of the fact was that my bedroom was feeling a little homier. On one wall, opposite the closet, there was a geological map of Metropolis and the surrounding area- that had been in Mercy's little box, and I'd made sure to thank her for it. An embarrassingly girly yet strangely adorable pink plush doll of fuzziness had made its home near the pillow, courtesy of Tim (I wasn't sure whether to be just grateful or ready for revenge as well). Alfred had managed to obtain a beautiful little trilobite fossil from Morocco, a spiny little bugger that had been frozen in time with its head peeking up as if looking behind it, while Ivo (and Amazo by extension) had managed to pull together a whole bunch of different flavours of tea to try out.

Bruce, meanwhile, had gotten me an illustrated book of dinosaurs. Which, if it had been Father that got me it, I would have complained endlessly about.

My finely-honed birthday senses had revealed long, long ago that people only got me dinosaur books when they had no clue what to get me otherwise- in my past life I'd managed to get the same book two years in a row. Still, I knew for a fact that Bruce was absolutely awful at gift-giving, and I was in the same boat myself- the sympathy for his plight was more than enough to make the gift worth it, let alone anything else.

After fondly looking over the various bits and bobs that my room had rather suddenly amassed, I spun around onto the computer desk, and booted it up. There were many things to do- and nothing specifically necessary, I mentally added with a grin. So… what to do on a lazy morning?

Lazy mornings were, of course, something I treasured. Normally, Lex expected me to be doing something at least vaguely productive for the majority of the day.

Today, though?

Code's compiling, hell yeah. We'd had a few thoroughly discombobulated bits of brain matter from the Psychicotron 5003's tests, and we'd had to make some adjustments- but this was just mathematics, rather than poking biology and seeing what happened. Simple to solve.

Boring to solve, really. Somewhere in the multiverse, I considered, Physics Lena is probably bored as hell even if she has blown up Apokalips from orbit with overwhelming firepower by now. Sucks to be you, theoretical alternate self that may or may not exist depending on how exactly metaphysics has decided to work today.

I'd finished the games I could finish, and I didn't feel like playing around on a sandbox game or anything. And Tim was at school. That left the obvious- snooping around LexCorp and seeing if there was anything I could get up to.

There had been some interesting activity in the restricted sections, but currently, it was locked down hard- the sort of security that would require slowly wedging myself in, just like I'd been doing with proto-Cadmus. (And wasn't that a gold mine of interesting little tidbits? I'd need to get my bike up and running again soon.) So far, I hadn't gotten to LexCorp's real juicy details, but I'd prised open that delectable little vault of secrets far enough to make it worth spending a morning on it.

I skimmed through it, for the most part. There were some interesting thoughts on crystal-based constructions and electronics. It seemed he'd hit a windfall of materials science recently, and I couldn't confirm why, though I certainly had my suspicions.

Cough, the geocidal alien paperclip maximiser which was totally a more trustworthy creature than Superman for some reason, cough cough cough.

What I really wanted, though, was something flexible. Something I could make a nice cape out of- my first costume was flammable (as previously mentioned), and my second costume was dry but still not ideal. I needed a third.

With luck I wouldn't turn into Iron Man and make a suit for every little thing, but ho hum. I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.

I scrolled onwards to the next page. Oh hey, I noted, finding a familiar name. Project Metallo. That'd be a good material, if it's flexible enough for flesh substitutes anyway.

It was when I opened it up that I started realising something, somewhere, had gone wrong.

Project Metallo had gone far beyond the mere material. No- it was complete schematics, and ones that brought me to an ugly conclusion- kryptonite wasn't something Father should have been aware of. After all, it was Wayne that had the original rock, not Lex. But somehow, he'd found out.

The port for the kryptonite-filled chest cavity of a very familiar-looking endoskeleton was suggestive of that. The lensing system, on the other hand? That was good enough to be proof. You weren't going to make lasers with your power source unless there wasn't another choice. And I sincerely doubted they'd be worthwhile on anything but Superman himself.

I checked the dates.

...Damnit, Luthor, I thought. I am going to get in so much trouble for pulling your ass out of the fire.

Their 'willing volunteer' was in here. Today. Which meant I had one chance to keep Father from making an indestructible, homicidal cyborg with a fanatical hatred for his guts. And his spleen. And his brains, heart, liver and various other internal organs to boot.

Really, there was no way this could have gone well for him. Unless he actually made good on his promise to fix up the unlucky bastard that became Metallo without him finding out about the retrovirus, but somehow I doubted he would have.

So, I thought, standing up. Time to go stick my nose in places I really shouldn't be sticking my nose in.

On one hand, LexCorp was incredibly difficult to infiltrate. Getting out? Fine and dandy. Getting deeper? Hey there, slow down, you're a crazy person to try and do that to HIM! LEX! LUTHOR!

On the other hand, I was an extremely motivated small child with more technological knowledge than could possibly be necessary and an in-depth understanding of the technologies involved. And, of course, all the various files I'd just printed off.

I have a one-in-five chance, tops.

I slaved what security I could to my phone, and headed down. Father was currently occupied, an investors' meeting or something, so he and Mercy would be up there for a good while.

With a few techniques I'd got from Robin, I snuck past with the equipment I'd brought. No blaring alarms went off, no shouts for me to get back here or to stop snooping or whatever- I seemed to have gone unnoticed. Even as I approached my destination.

Last corridor, I noted, pushing it open. I couldn't see through the window on the doors opposite, but I knew precisely where they lead to.

I pushed them open, to see a blonde-haired man looking up from the meal he was savouring. A continental breakfast, if I wasn't mistaken. Unlike most people who met me unexpectedly, Mr Corben- the future Metallo- didn't do a double-take or stare. He just looked up to take note of the situation, and paused his breakfast to talk. "You're the little Luthor," he noted. "Fancy seeing you of all people down here."

"Mister Corben," I greeted. I was wary about him- genial though he was, there was an air of danger around him. It was what you'd expect from a world-famous mercenary, after all.

He turned away from his food, leaning an elbow on his knee. "I doubt Daddy Dearest just lets you wander his labs," he said. "You're defying him, aren't you?"

"It's not defiance if it's for his own good," I said, shrugging. "And I think a potentially fatal flaw in that surgery of yours falls under that." He frowned at that, and I saw a well-hidden flicker of concern behind his eyes. Pushing a few schematics onto his table, I gestured. "Notice anything missing?"

"Hmm." He wasn't quite taking me seriously, but he was listening. After a moment, he looked to me with an almost apologetic expression and a shrug. "Looks perfectly functional to me."

"Mmh," I said. "Perfectly functional. That's, ah… That'sgood, for a new body. Just… mechanically functional doesn't mean the same thing." I shuffled a few papers. "Here," I said, gesturing. "This page- the sensory apparatus."

He took another look. And then he did it again. "...Hah," he said, frowning. "That can't be right. There's no tongue. Why wouldn't it have a tongue,of all things?"

"The body doesn't have that many senses. It just has what it needs to kill," I said. "No thermal sensors. No damage sensors. There's pressure sensors, yes- microphones, too, and cameras. But no olfaction, nothing tactile either. Ever heard of one Mr Victor Fries?"

"That's the crazy in Gotham with the cold gun," he said. "Poor bastard can't feel warmth- and… it drove him mad."

The mercenary looked at his food with an ill expression. He took another mouthful- I let him finish.

"...So, what you're saying is that I'm doomed, is that it?" he questioned, stabbing his food with a fork. "Neverfeeling again, or never thinkingagain on top of that? Hah. Sounds like a choice between a wooden casket and a metal one to me."

"There's an alternative."

He looked up, frowning, but intrigued. "Go on."

"You're aware of what your disease is," I stated. "Orozco's retrovirus." He motioned for me to keep talking as he shifted, leaving one elbow on the side of the table. "It's got various close relatives, other retroviruses- HIV, for example. And the reason they're so interesting- and, in this case, difficult to cure- is that they splice themselves into your DNA. Dormant, until they inevitably unleash themselves upon the body once more."

"You're saying... You're saying you could cure me," he said. "Just like that. But I remember that Vital guy, on the news. Your mess, wasn't it?"

"No. Father made his own version, and his own version made Vital," I told him. "His own biological work has become... obsolete, to put it lightly, since then."

I tossed him a single, tin can.

He looked at me askance. "Go on," I said. "Crush it."

Mr Corben frowned- and squeezed, collapsing the can like anyone would. He tossed it back to me.

I looked at it. "Your grip strength is well within human norms," I said.

So I took two hands and squeezed it. The metal shrieked- and, after I'd compressed it as much as I could, I dropped a sphere into his hands.

It wasn't quite spherical. Anyone who's messed with dough or foil could tell you that.

But it was enough to make my statement quite clear to him. "My own, of course, is well outside them," I said. "Despite the fact there's no possible way for somebody of my age to manage it. That was my own doing- genetic splicing is something of a hobby of mine."

He looked at the crushed metal with wonder, for a moment- then looked at me, his features schooled. "You want to make a deal, then," said the hardened mercenary. "My life, for… what, precisely?"

"Well ensuring nobody goes crazy and tries to kill me is always a plus in my book," I said. "But yes- I do have a few thoughts."

"You don't seem to get along with your father," he suggested, a glint in his eye. "And if he just forgot to mention the side effects... well, I don't think I really like him either."

I waved him off. "He's an idiot," I said, "but I've no interest in seeing him gone. No, I'm thinking something a bit more… exciting."

Corben frowned. "Go on."

I handed him a sheet. "There are many ways this project here I've found out about," I told him, "could inevitably go wrong. I'd like to change that."

He read through it- his eyes settled on the big red 'Classified' on top. "Interesting. Going against the US Government?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "That's an expensive job."

"Mister Corben," I said, smiling sweetly, "I can assure you- that will not be an issue."

He looked over it again, considering. "...Hmm. I suppose I don't have much to lose, do I? So. If I do happen to be interested," he asked, "how would I get in contact?"

I passed him another slip of paper, and gathered up everything else. "Here's the directions," I said. "Very precise. I'm sure you'll have no issue." I passed him a needle I'd got from my lab on the way. "A blood sample would be useful to have it ready as soon as possible."

He glanced up and down the paper- and took the needle to take the sample himself. "I think we both know this is the better option," he agreed, passing it back to me. He looked me in the eyes. "It'll be interesting to work with you, Little Miss Luthor."

"Likewise, Mister Corben," I said with a nod, turning back towards the door. "Have a pleasant day."

It would take a bit of walking to get back up top. The conversation had been… surprisingly tame. I was expecting more from a world-famous mercenary.

Of course, this did bring up something rather more… concerning.

Luthor had, obviously, learned that Superman was weak to kryptonite. There was a distinctly limited number of people who knew that otherwise.

The first was myself. I sincerely doubted he had a way to rack my brains for knowledge, though, so that wasn't relevant. It was a similar answer for the Bat-Family, and Superman…? Yeah, no. Superman was a nice guy, certainly, but he wasn't the type to let an unfair advantage over his enemies get in the way of his struggle for a better world.

There was only one other person who knew.

I'd brought up Mr Freeze as a warning story, but on that terrible night that poor Rappy the Robot Raptor had been felled in glorious combat, we'd accidentally let him get away. (Nobody suspected the crawling robohead. Nobody.) And, of course, he'd heard us discussing that glowing, green rock which gave Superman so much pain. Maybe even had a little demonstration.

So Corben wasn't going to become Metallo, sure. But there were two people, now, who were desperately in need of a new body, and who Lex already had in his debt.

The first, obviously, was Victor. That would be… bad, sure. But it wasn't likely to do anything but bring about a really goddamn difficult fight. The other possibility, though…

I need to dig deeper, I thought, frowning, and soon. I don't want to find out what Mr Freeze would do to us if we made his own torment a preferable option to being his wife.