Chapter 34

A/N: Hey everyone! Welcome back! Good to see y'all again. Sorry about last chapter. It was just that one did not want to cooperate—and it didn't help that I started writing in in the middle of the semester just before finals; so my thoughts were kinda disjointed for that one. Hopefully this one flows smoother.

Remember, I just own the story. Nothing else is mine.

/comms/

Telepathy/flashbacks

Metropolis, November 27, 22:22EDT

Lex Luthor sighed as he sat down at his desk, massaging his temples tiredly. He knew that sending in Superboy to investigate the disappearance his missing projects would stir up trouble, but he hadn't imagined that quashing the genomorph's little rebellion would've been such an issue.

Ever since the weapon had decided to run off to play hero, the other genomorphs had gotten it into their heads that they too deserved liberation. That they could betray those that had given them life and choose their own paths. It was a pain to deal with.

At least they had protocols in place to prevent something like this from happening again.

Though, it wouldn't be a concern as long as everything went according to plan.

"And how did your little expedition go?" a voice spoke over his shoulder.

Despite the fact he should've been used to it by now, the businessman couldn't help but jump slightly as William appeared behind him. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, turning to face the brunette. "Will, do you need to keep doing that?"

The man flashed a familiar teasing smile, casually leaning against his office bar pouring himself a glass of scotch. "And where would be the fun in that?" he mused, taking a sip. "It's not my fault you're so easy to scare. Still," he brushed a lock of hair falling out of his ponytail, "judging by your demeanor we have a setback?"

"Not exactly," Lex replied. "Superboy did accept the Shields, the virus should be uploading to the League systems at any moment. And, he did manage to locate the missing genomorphs as well as a few misplaced projects."

William strode over, handing his friend a glass, "Yet you're frustrated?"

"Yes," he grumbled, accepting the glass. "The boy did not take the news to our relation as well as I hoped. With how negligent Superman has been, it shouldn't have been too difficult to earn the boy's trust."

"It rarely is simple with children, Lex," Will said, his voice sympathetic. "You know how my own son has been recently; ever after everything I did for him." The man took another drink, "At least you can have a conversation with your child without worrying about him trying to throw you in prison, or worse."

Yes, Luthor supposed that was true. William's son was…problematic to say the least. He had had the pleasure of meeting the young man at the few galas he had attended since getting out of the hospital. The kid was smart. Too smart for his own good.

He wouldn't be easily manipulated.

It was a pity. The kid would've been an invaluable asset with his skill set and position.

And, even if he could be swayed easily, Luthor couldn't get close to him without Emily hovering nearby or Wayne interjecting to ask about something or other. It was especially frustrating since the kid had effectively cut off the remnant pipelines Will had painstakingly worked on. Meaning his friend had to resort to less…pleasant means of acquiring the material—not that the man seemed to mind.

But Lex wasn't sure how much longer he could explain away the screams of his friend's new toys when the other man got a tad overzealous.

"What about his eventual withdrawal?" Lex spoke up, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Surely Michael will be more willing to cooperate then?"

There was a long-suffering sigh from his companion, "To be candid: I'm not sure. Michael should have already been experiencing withdrawal symptoms—he had in the past after going this long without treatments. But, so far, I can't find any sign of them."

"Do you think his new powers have something to do with it?"

"Possibly," Will said, sitting in another chair, annoyance flashing across his face. "Though it's equally possible the League synthesized something to combat it. I haven't been able to study it as thoroughly as I would like. The tissue samples I obtained do seem to indicate something along those lines; however, I can't fully corroborate that without more…in depth tests."

"No luck with your other subjects?" he asked, sitting across from the brunette man.

"No," William snarled, his violet eyes flashing a silvery-red for a split second. "None of them have been strong enough to survive the process."

"What about Subjects 42, 33, and 37?" Luthor questioned, "Those three survived?"

"Yes, yes," the other man waved him off, "but their powers are different. The remnant injections did appear to play a factor in the development of their powers, but they aren't the same. Only one of the genetic markers line up between all subjects."

Pausing, Luthor set down his drink, looking at the other man in intrigue. "As if there's a genetic marker for superpowers?" he proposed, leaning forwards. "One of our partners has mentioned such a theory before."

"Perhaps, but there's a difference between correlation & causation," Will reminded. "We wouldn't be able to confirm until obtaining a subject with this marker that doesn't have any powers to see if they have the same reaction. And given how the Bat is already too close for comfort…"

"We wouldn't be able to collect a substantial amount of subjects fast enough to confirm," Lex concluded. "Not without raising alarms."

"Indeed."

Shame. It sounded like an avenue the Light would be more than happy to explore. Alas, it appeared that that project would have to wait for a later date. One preferably that would buy them enough time to set up a proper patsy to take the fall.

"Would you be able to continue with the subjects you have?"

"I've already sent the orders to have them delivered to Queen Bee or Ra's. I figured one of them would find some use for them. Not like I can get mush use out of them anymore."

Lex hummed to himself, he wasn't particularly thrilled that the other man had made such a call without consulting him. However, he couldn't deny that the man had a point. As curious as the brunette undoubtedly was about what made his surviving toys tick, he was smart enough to recognize that killing them wouldn't be beneficial in the long run. Not when they could be sent and trained to serve the Light.

"And what of our other project?"

"The sea star?" William raised a brow, taking a sip of his drink. Snapping his fingers, Luthor bit back a grimace as he heard the scraping of slithering metal from above. Long tendrils descended from the overhead vent, cradling a glass canister containing a writhing tendril with silvery veins. "Thank you, Princess," the other man smiled, taking the container as the coils retreated. "Anyways, I finished the preliminary adjustments. All that needs to be done is the final adjustments with Klarion and the Brain," he took another sip, violet eyes flashing again, "I trust you're upholding your end of the agreement?"

"Since when have I ever lied to you?"

"Well…" the man grinned, tilting his head playfully, "there was that one time—"

"Vegas doesn't count!"

"What about—"

"Neither does Aruba!"

The brunette shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, "You asked."

Lex sighed, rolling his eyes, as he set his glass down. "You know I keep my promises Will," standing up, he straightened out his suit, "Now, we should head down to the lab, Klarion should be here any minute."

"Already?"

"Like I said: I keep my promises."

-.-

Wayne Manor, December 1, 19:23EDT

"Master Michael," a posh British voice greeted as he stepped up to the door.

"Hey Alfred," Mike greeted, "good to see you again."

"You as well, sir," the man said, stepping aside to let him in.

Mike followed the butler towards the sound of people and music. Coming around the corner, he could see one of the larger rooms in the mansion had been taken over by his classmates. "Mike!" a familiar voice called as he set down his present.

Turning, the older teen grunted as a small, wry form collided with his side. "Hey squirt," Mike said, ruffling the younger boy's hair.

By his side, Dick huffed, fruitlessly trying to swat his hand away as stray black locks fell into his face. "Dude! It took me forever to get my hair to stay back," the boy wined, the grin on his face showing he wasn't as angry as he wanted to seem.

"With the amount of gel in there, I'm amazed it's not a helmet," Mike snickered as the boy gave an indignant squawk.

He still wasn't fully sure how this friendship developed. He'd met the kid at the few galas he'd been forced to attend, and they had a class together, but they didn't really talk much. At least until Mike found him trying to hit Lex Luthor on the back of the head with a shrimp. And, instead of being responsible and telling him off, what did he do? Immediately joined in, that's what.

How they didn't get caught was an honest to God mystery.

They'd hung out a few more times since then—mostly when their respective guardians had some sort of meeting. But the kid grew on him.

Almost literally, the younger teen seemed to stick to him like glue some days. It actually reminded him a lot of how Robin would cling to him when he'd had a bad day.

Though…now that he thought about it…that wasn't the only way Dick reminded him of Bird Brain. They were both acrobatic, smart to a scary degree, absolute chatterboxes, and had remarkably similar personalities—granted, all of which could just be explained by coincidence.

However, it was a little harder to explain the fact that both of them had the exact same birthday. Mike had been at the Cave just a few hours ago to celebrate Robin's birthday. And now, he was here celebrating Dick's; right after the Boy Wonder declared he needed to get going because he was going to be late for something. Not to mention, all've Wally's comments on their mission in Qurac, like he knew something about the other boy's identity.

Of course, it wasn't his business who Robin told his identity to. It was his business. Heck, if he didn't go to the same school as Artemis, there'd be no doubt the other girl wouldn't have told him anything.

Plus, he wasn't going to be a hypocrite either given that he refused to tell the team anything identifying about his personal life.

Still, there was only so long he could ignore all the little puzzle pieces falling into place.

Now, it was just a matter of confirming it without arousing suspicion.

This way there was no harm done if he was wrong. But if he was right, well it wasn't like Robin could be mad at him given how he pried into Mike's personal business.

"Sorry I was late," he apologized. "I take it I didn't miss anything too important?"

"Nope," Dick grinned. "Actually, you got here just in time. I need someone to help me beat Artemis and Barb in foosball."

Letting himself be dragged across the room to the table where Bette and Artemis stood talking with a young redheaded girl.

"Hey Mike," Bette greeted, leaning against the table. "I was starting to think you'd died or something."

"I got here like ten minutes after you did," he scoffed.

"Still late."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Oh, we will," Dick grinned, spinning one of the rows on the table. "Right after we kick your ass at foosball."

"Unless," Mike chimed in, sliding up to the table, "you guys are too scared?"

"Please," the redhead scoffed, "like we didn't just kick your butt five minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, now I have a better ally," the boy retorted.

Bette made an indignant sound, "Hey!"

"Sorry Bette," Mike grinned, "not your fault I'm better."

The blonde slammed her hands on the table, looking to the other two girls. "Make him eat those words!"

"Gladly."

"Bring it on."

-.-

Twenty Minutes Later

"What were you saying again?" Barbra grinned playfully from the other side of the table.

"I believe," Artemis started, "it was something along the lines of: kicking our asses?"

"Right," the redhead nodded, giving a fist-bump to the archer, "and I believe we told them we'd make them eat their words."

"And we did."

"Alright, we get it, we suck," Mike groaned. "Do you need to keep rubbing it in our faces?"

"Yeah. Duh."

"Please," Dick scoffed, "it's not our fault that you're freakishly good at everything Babs."

The redhead snickered, "It is your fault that you're not better than me."

Fortunately, the boys were saved from further ribbing by a call from the doorway, "Who wants pizza?"

Turning to the door, Alfred walked in, holding a stack of pizza. Beside him, Dick made a shocked noise, "You ordered pizza?"

The butler looked at his charge with a raised brow. "Don't be absurd, Master Richard. I ordered the boxes. I made the pies."

"That makes more sense," the younger boy muttered. "You guys go get food. I'll be right back."

Mike didn't need to be told twice. Practically flying to the table, the elder began loading his plate up with food, pointedly ignoring the judgmental look the girls were giving him. They could shove it. He was hungry. His powers took a lot out of him.

That and he made a point to avoid eating too much before coming over. According to Efrem, Alfred's pizzas were to die for.

Which was surprising because the two men seemed to have some long-running competition about who was the better cook if how Thanksgiving went was any indication.

Sitting on the couch, he joined the others in watching a movie. There was still a few conversations going on, but the room had quieted down for the time being. At least until they brought out cake. Because after that things would probably devolve into teenage chaos.

Especially since he'd heard several people talking about playing spin the bottle later.