His eyes remained firmly upon the soft, glowing chamber before him. It was quiet, save for the occasional warble of bubbles from the tube itself and the gentle hum of residual power fueling the delicate process that was taking place within it, not that one would be able to tell from the outset. In any case, the assortment of barely materialized body parts, the occasional eye here, a finger or something like it there...the process was messy, to say the least.

But he knew.

He always did have an eye for the details, and this time, he thought, was to be promising.

Leaning back in his chair, he relaxed a bit, the tension in his shoulders a dull ache from having held his posture for as long as he had, but his eyes remained fixed upon the bundle of cells that shifted and squirmed in the clear, bright fluid that bubbled and churned within the confines of the chamber. It didn't have a distinct shape, in fact, it hardly held the shape of anything at all; visions of muscle fibers and exposed bone flittered in morbid silence, snapping and reforming and changing with constant motion that, if he hadn't been so accustomed to the sight, he surely would have cringed at himself. He was certain it was a painful process, though he was, also, almost sure the would-be clone likely didn't have nerve endings to feel discomfort at all.

Or, he certainly hoped that he wouldn't; he wasn't in the business of causing pain where he could avoid it. He was a stringent business man, but even he didn't see the object of being the cause of unnecessary harm where he could help it.

He was heartless...but not that heartless.

Behind him, a door opened, or, well, the only door leading to this part of the facility, it's heavy machinations opening slowly to allow who, in the man's mind, was certainly an intruder, into the sanctity of the silence that had ruled the space for longer than the latter himself could tell. He didn't move as the presence stepped inside, and almost seeming to protest, the door to the chamber, again, came to a close, a clang and collision of metal the calling card to their isolation.

The new presence spoke, his voice grating like nails upon his eardrums.

The man wished again for his solitude, though he knew well enough not to make a fuss about it; if anything, he was far too well-versed in knowing when to bite his tongue, and now, he knew, was such a moment.

"Ah, . I didn't know that you were still down here. I can't imagine that the hours you've spent with a bundle of cells were terribly entertaining." The man behind him almost seemed to joke, but the humor was lost on Luthor, the man grunting quietly under his breath at the rather poor attempt to illicit a reaction from him. He knew Desmond well enough to understand the games the former would play, clever attempts at poking agitations that, with anyone else, would have certainly gotten a rise out of them, but he wasn't so easily chided.

He grinned, but it wasn't authentic. More of a means of portraying good will where there was certainly none.

"I think you'll be surprised to find that he is actually rather good company. Not much of a conversationalist, though...not that I'm one to complain about silence." Luthor shot back slyly, and Desmond scoffed, and Luthor noticed the small creatures that had been set about small pedestals around the tube, G-gnomes, he recalled, shift slightly as their tiny horns glowed softly in the dark before dimming once more. He'd seen them do that one time or another down here in the lab, and though adjusted to their presence, he found himself disquieted at the concealed communications; it was a never a comforting thought to know that they were always...talking to each other.

Whispering and plotting and god knows what else in the creeping corners of Cadmus when out of sight...or even here, he thought, minding each of the six creatures around the chamber before calmed himself, refusing to show his discomfort.

Desmond spoke again once they'd finished and resumed their still vigil, stepping close to Luthor.

"The G-gnomes say that its progress is promising. Hopefully this one won't implode. You know, like the others did; it was around this time, right? Four weeks? I remember number eighty-two; popped and everything. It was a pain to clean up, but it seems like this one is doing marginally better." He stated in a matter-of-factly tone, waving his hand to the developing creature within, flippant and unaware that his words had struck the former deeply, though again, Luthor didn't parse a response. But his mind was certain hung upon his statements, turning the memories in his head.

How could he forget?

Eighty-nine attempts. Eighty-nine chambers. Eighty-nine bundles of cells just like this one.

And each one an astounding, unbelievable, extraordinary failure.

Mass mutations, cellular destabilization, missing limbs, incorrect configurations of bodily structures.

One after the other, again and again, they were set back to the drawing board, and every time, the failure seemed more his own than anyone else's. It would seem, the man, and Cadmus itself cam to realize, that Kryptonian DNA was far more volatile, far more unstable, than that of humans, or really any other creature that they'd ever gotten the genetic material of in the history of their organization. It was a bigger challenge just keeping it viable, let alone attempting to replicate enough of it to create a whole new creature out of them, and of the eighty-eight other attempts, Luthor understood with painful clarity, none of them had ever gotten quite this far.

And that was what scared him most.

Uncharted territory was always best trekked carefully, slowly, meticulously...but when every step was laced with possible calamity, just how much could one do before it was easier to deem the project itself a failure? Looking up at the undulating, writhing mass before him, barely larger than his palm, he knew, also, that there were greater powers at play that would make certain that it would happen...one way or another.

No matter how many abominations they would have to go through to make it so.

Not that he objected to the process. He had his own ambitions, too.

"Yes, it would seem so. He is...doing far better than we thought." Luthor responded, hoping to end the conversation there.

He was hardly in the mood to speak, but Desmond continued, doing a terrible job, the man thought, at reading the room as even with his back turned to him and his tone sharp and as unwelcoming as he could manage to make it without making obvious his disdain for the other, he kept their dialogue going.

Luthor almost sighed, but stifled his voice.

"Yes, and it's all thanks to you, of course." He stated, and this time, Luthor did react, however imperceptibly, to his words, straightening his back and adjusting his posture to answer him in kind.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, making certain to hide the flicker of recognition that echoed on his face, though Desmond didn't appear aware of it, or...didn't make it apparent that he had been. Coming closer and joining Lex at his side, the man regarded the tube before the two of them.

He grinned, but not maliciously...but in awe.

"Who could have known that the key to stabilizing Kryptonian DNA in such a state was human material? I mean, it should have been obvious, certainly, but it was incredibly kind of you to 'donate'. I hope it wasn't too unpleasant...the process." Desmond said, his smile hardly fading even as Luthor grimaced at the notion.

Unpleasant?

Hardly.

Awkward?

That was likely the word that he would use. No, that was definitely what he would describe the...experience as. Harvesting Superman's was easy enough, though he wouldn't openly admit that it was incomplete. Contrary to the image of benevolence that the Man of Steel was incredibly adept at presenting, he wasn't especially forthcoming when it came to presenting enough material for there to be less gaps to fill, and it was made worse by the fact that the sample wasn't nearly as...pure as he'd hoped it would have been. Collecting skin cells, hair, and even the occasional tooth and eyelash just didn't make for stable, viable, genetic material, and it certainly wasn't his...first choice. That was part of the issue from the start, he recalled, shifting slightly in his seat at the memory of his own...extraction, and the echo of the finalized pieces of Superman's own when he finally managed to get the man to stay still long enough to harvest more...adaptable specimens. The kryptonian and him shared a commonality in their reluctance to concede and offer the material they would use for their experiments, though for vastly different reasons.

He was sure that the Man of Steel wouldn't remember much of the event, and likely, that was for the best. Luthor himself had never known the man to be vengeful, nothing of the sort, but he wouldn't put it past the most powerful being on the planet to be a bit miffed at the method and nature of what he'd done to secure the future of their program.

And he wasn't going to freely offer up that information.

He wasn't ashamed. Not...necessarily.

He was ready, able, and willing to do anything to forward the ambitions of The Light...but he wasn't terribly enthusiastic about detailing the means in which he did; that, he felt, was hardly relevant to the conversation at hand.

Lex shook his head.

"Not particularly. Standard fare. Simple auto-extraction, self-directed, of course." Luthor claimed, though he avoided Desmond's eyes.

Yes, that was right; it was all standard fare. Hardly worth speaking of, he told himself, as the other researcher hummed, though he wasn't certain if the former believed him...not that it really mattered.

He was under no obligation to explain himself further, after all.

He didn't need to recall the details. It was enough that he knew what happened.

That...was enough.

"Right, of course. I had to be you. Because who else but an esteemed member of the Light would be given the honor of contributing so...personallyto the project, right? Doctor Luther?" Desmond said, appealing to that sudden silence as he stepped back, the creature on his shoulders horns glowing for just a moment before turning towards the door to the chamber; Luthor only nodded.

"Of course. Anything for our...cause." The man responded, and with a second scratch of metal, a clang, and following echo that crept around the room as Desmond left, leaving Luthor alone, again, solitude fell upon him. In all that time, he never looked away from Kon-el's tube, eyes squinting with a sudden, perverse fatigue that only contradicted the loose grin that flashed across his features.

That was right, the man repeated again in mind as he considered the cells, and forming body, within.

This was all for the greater good.

July 10th, 2010 - 04:10 PST

It was nice...having his own space.

He'd never had one before, of course, not that it had been a problem, necessarily, prior to this point as the teen wasn't even aware that owning something, having privacy, was something that he would have cared for as much as he now did. It was, of course, still an adjustment, the teen jumping slightly at the sight of a ceiling above his head, the feeling of soft, dower blankets around him, the sense of comforting fabric against his skin a shock in itself.

A far cry from the still sterility that he'd known for most of his short life briefly coming to mind before he turned his attention elsewhere.

No use focusing on...that part of his life. It was over now, he thought, turning to gaze about his sparse, barely decorated room, though this didn't feel strange to him, either, the clone making little fuss about the bare state of the space. Superboy didn't spend too much time unpacking, seeing as he didn't have much (or nothing at all) to call his own, so it was by the gracious hand of the heroes of which he was now in the care of (save for Superman, who was decidedly absent on "moving-in day", but he, oddly enough, wasn't surprised to find that was the case. A few days was enough to convey the idea that his...other half wasn't too fond of him) to get him his first garments, furniture, and the like. Red Tornado was...nice. Or...he thought he was, if, like most of the others adults, wary and standoffish, as far as he could tell; they hadn't exactly had the chance to talk very much anyway, but that, also, wasn't too out of the question. The older man had mostly been between the last minute renovations and alternations to the hideout to make it more...junior league friendly, as Flash lovingly put it.

The clone wasn't particularly concerned with the terminology, or even, necessarily, with the way that the older heroes put it, but instead, was far more set on striking it out on his own...of establishing some understanding of what was to be his new home likely into the foreseeable future.

But he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Life at Mount Justice was...strange, to say the least, or as strange as not being at Cadmus was. Of course, Superboy figured everything was supposed to be strange, seeing as so much had happened, and was happening, even now, the teen thought, as he sat up from his new bed, in his new room...in the new...everything. Raising a hand to his head, he scratched lightly at his hair, minding the messy, wiry strands of dark hair that rested drenched in sweat beneath his fingertips, and the teen sighed, looking about his allocated space. It was difficult at first to tell what time it was now, seeing as the headquarters (or former headquarters, he'd been told) didn't have window...being a mountain and all, but the alarm clock on the stand next to his bed, the youth noting the odd feeling that rose in him at the acknowledgement that he now owned things, read the time.

04:10? A little early...too early to really do much right now...but I could use a drink...,He thought, minding the door at the far end of the room that led into the halls of the hideout...and his and M'gann's new home. He was almost certain that it would be fine, he thought, seeing as Red Tornado was probably still gone (their supposed guardian was usually out doing league...stuff), and Black Canary was somewhere doing...whatever it was that she did. That often just left he and M'gann here, even with it having only been two days since the two of them had moved here. Deeming it fine, he threw off the covers and leaned over the side of the bed, coming to a stand in a single, swift movement and, remaining careful of the noise that he was making, he walked over to the door and opened it, listening out for any others that might have been around. His hearing stretched as far he could make it, feeling out the edges of the headquarters with care before opening the door completely and stepping out.

Everything seemed clear.

Good; now, some water,Kon-el thought, beginning down the corridor as his eyes traveled about with still present curiosity, though he was quickly adjusting to the sights and smells of what, as far as he could tell, would be his forever place until things worked out with Cadmus and...everything else. Noting the low-light of the compound (a feature, he found, was only triggered during certain parts of the night and early morning), he was still able to pick out the memoirs of the heroes that once roamed their halls. Trophies, medals, telecommunications bits here and there, now mostly out of commission, sure, but still ripe for speculation about their use once upon a time still offered some intrigue the clone could glean as he made it out into the main hub, if the massive space wasn't telling enough. Around him, a quiet hum echoed throughout mountain, residual electricity to be sure, and in a way, the teen thought idly, it reminded him a lot of...before, when he was still there, those fifty-two levels beneath the earth and quietly ponderous about the world above that he hadn't been a part of...yet.

It was strange to think of it as even remotely comforting, and it wasn't, he wouldn't delude himself into thinking anything remotely similar, but there was a sense of familiarity that he could at least latch onto. It was...kindly, gripping him and leading him forward as he walked into the headquarter's kitchen and, after searching for a bit, found a glass, reaching out for the faucet to turn it on and fetch himself a much needed drink. He often found his mouth was painfully drier now, though he could only guess, with his needs and wants no longer taken care of constantly by the White-Coats...he actually had to feel the sensations of discomfort that, for lack of a better word, were so alien to him.

When he was thirsty, they just knew and would give him something to drink accordingly.

When he was hungry, they were already aware and would set about feeding him at once.

He never had to raise a hand before. He'd never felt...deprived, not like this. Though he liked very much the sense of liberation that came from being to choose for himself, to think for himself, he'd never once considered what it would be like to have to face the consequences of having to act of his own accord, too. If he was thirsty, he had to get himself something to drink; if he were hungry, he had to feed himself, too.

It wasn't bad,he reminded himself, sighing deeply as he downed one glass only to fill it again and drink deeply once more.

It was just...different.

Only...different.

He was pulled from his thoughts as his ears pricked, the teen given a start by the silent entry of M'gann as, having never touched the ground, it was as soon as he'd turned around that he found her there, a kindly smile grace her face as she waved from the entrance of the kitchen.

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She started, walking forward to find a glass, just as he had; he assumed she was thirsty, too, it seemed. Seeing as it had taken him a while to find one, he pointed to the one beside his head; it wouldn't make sense to watch her struggle to find what he already had, though he didn't quite have the sense to hand it to her as he turned away, scowling at her comment. It wasn't as if they'd really had the chance to talk, and more than that, he...wasn't sure he knew how to. He was still getting the hang of talking to people in general (hard to accumulate social skills when you were raised in a test tube; that fact wasn't lost on him), and more than that, he wanted to keep it cool.

He swore to himself that he would do anything to keep from messing up, yes, but he wasn't naïve to the fact that she, like the g-gnomes, look into your head.

That...didn't sit right with him. He'd never openly admit it, but he wasn't sure he took kindly to being in the same space with someone that could just...root around in that sacred place without his permission, make you do things...make you not remember them. He'd had his fair share of experiences just...going along with what other people said for basically his entire existence (Which, admittedly, wasn't long, but it felt long when you didn't have any other point of reference to speak of), so he wasn't shy about his reluctance to talk to her, much more when he realized how...potent her abilities were.

She'd made child's play of the tests and training to assess her powers: her telekinesis was powerful but precise, her shapeshifting impeccable, her strength unmatched; the only thing that remained unknown...were the extent of her telepathic abilities.

And that...that's what made him so nervous.

How could he fight something he didn't fully understand?

How could he protect himself against a threat he couldn't assess?

So even subconsciously, he felt...uncomfortable around her. He didn't want to be, but...a part of him just couldn't trust it.

Couldn't trusther.

"You didn't. I just didn't know you were up." He said dismissively, finishing his second glass and considering a third, his thirst still persisting even as she stepped forward, gracing his arm softly with her shoulder as she floated up to reach the higher shelves. She smiled, still, though her head was tilted, much in the same way, he noticed, that his would often be when something was said that he didn't understand.

Kon-el looked away, reaching for the faucet handle again and readying his glass beneath the head to fill it for the third time.

He refused to liken her to him.

They were two completely different people, after all.

He couldn't let down his guard. Not for a second.

"Oh, I just...thought I saw you jump. I forgot that I don't make a lot of sound when I'm, you know, flying? Looks like even I can fly under your super senses, huh?" M'gann said softly, touching down upon the ground and, without touching the handle, he watched it turn and begin to fill her glass as well, and as she did so, her words cycled in his head with a bitterness he couldn't describe.

It hadn't been a secret by now that there were distinct differences between him and Superman...his clear superior.

It should have been obvious from the moment that he realized that he couldn't summon that same, blistering heat from his eyes that something was amiss. But the nail was set into the proverbial coffin when on that fateful day, just two days prior, when he'd jumped and did everything he could to will the power of flight to lift them up that elevator shaft and nothing came of it, Superboy knew from that very moment on that something was wrong...very, very wrong. No heat-vision, no flight...practically hallmarks of being kryptonian, he felt, were all lost to him, and it wasn't immediately apparent if there was a way to really learn those things if he hadn't already. Even something like this, something as innocuous as knowing when and where she was coming from seemed painfully, terribly, obviously limited in him enough that he had somehow missed entirely that she was there until she had to practically announce her presence for him to become aware of it.

A sinking feeling of inadequacy filled his gut as he turned the notion around his head, over and over as he tried to ignore the horrible dread that made his heart lurch with fear.

Were his senses duller, too? Could he not even be compared to the Man of Steel in that way without it becoming clear that he just wasn't up to snuff?

Would Superman had been taken by surprise?

Would Superman had been scared? Scared...like he was?

Clenching the glass, he scoffed, but it bore no humor.

Not an inkling of it as, threatening to break the glass in his grip, he did his best to moderate his strength, and he set it upon the counter as carefully as he could despite his unwillingness to look at the girl before him.

He...didn't want to talk anymore.

"I'm going back to my room." He said finally, ignoring the confused expression upon M'gann's face as, leaving the glass upon the countertop and starting back on his way to the entrance of the kitchen, he tried to control the rushing heat to his shoulders, the gritting of his teeth...the fear in his gut.

They just haven't kicked in completely yet, the teen thought, swallowing as he had just made it back to the entrance to the hall when his head began to throb again.

What...is that? Why does my head keep doing that?,He uttered both with frustration and distress, his mind freezing when he felt something...slither inside, almost with surgical precision before he heard it, her voice, cutting through the haze as he resisted as hard as he could, but that only seemed to worsen the pain.

"Because you keep...resisting! We can talk, you know! Don't be nervous!"She exclaimed cheerfully, completely missing the perturbed expression that laced his once stoic features as he wrapped his head around her words. So, it was her that was making him feel like that? That was her yesterday, the teen tried to think, but his thoughts felt cold and slow, made worse when he felt her burrow deeper into his skull, again, disregarding his clear attempts to pull away as she pulled him back into the kitchen by his hand, smiling still.

"Yeah! I was trying to talk to you yesterday, but your mental barriers are really thick! I didn't know you knew how to do that!"M'gann said, and leaning back on the counter, she continued, fiddling with her hair as she did so. Kon-el remained silent, his mouth agape.

"I felt like something was wrong just now...is something bothering you? I can look to see if something is! Just hold on!"The young martian stated, and at once, the clone was on edge. The last thing he wanted her to do was root around and look at his most intimate thoughts, and not this soon in meeting each other. In fact, the last thing he ever wanted anyone to do was be in his head at all. He'd had enough of that being in Cadmus, the memory of g-gnomes, Dubbilex, and just about every White-Coat taking the liberty of invading the one place that should have been his own.

The one thing that should have been safe when nothing else had been was hardly a space he could feel safe in, and in the very moment that he thought that he'd been saved the discomfort of being violated like that again, of having his mind remain just that, his own, it was shattered the moment he found out that she could read thoughts.

And project them.

To invade them.

And that was precisely what she was doing now.

He tried to resist her pull, but just like that, a hot knife through butter, she filed through every corner of his brain to recall thoughts that should have remained private.

"N-no...stop - "He started, but she didn't heed his words, her laser-focused eyes glowing slightly as, touching his arm, she frowned slightly.

He felt his insecurities relating to Superman bud to the front of his mind. His fears of inadequacy flower with crude vengeance. His barely-concealed notions of perceived incompetence when it came to his powers...or the lack thereof. All of it was bore right there for her to pick apart, and all of it without him so much as being able to stop it at all. The ferocity of her skill, her indomitable will, was so pervasive that he teen lurched forward quickly as if trying to grasp at any that he could take into his hands, but alas, they were with her now, filling her mind and draining his own in one fell swoop that stole the words that had been in his throat.

She worked fast.

And just as quickly, she responded, pitiable sympathy so thick in her voice that it made Superboy want to throw up...apart from the very strong feeling of dizziness that made his world spin, forcing him against the wall leading out of the kitchen, and thankfully, out of her arms reach as she stood back, a sickening sweet tone in her voice making Superboy grit his teeth with agitation.

He didn't want her pity.

"Oh my gosh, I...I didn't know you felt all of those things, Superboy. And I don't pity you! I would never do that! I think you're very brave, still choosing to try as hard as you do when you have so many faults. It's very admirable." She complimented, her words, as kind as they seemed to be intended to have sounded, only made him wither. Was that supposed to be a compliment? He...didn't need her praise, not in the way of making him sound like a charity case. It only occurred to him a moment or so later that she was still in his thoughts, reading him like a book...weaseling her way into his intimate considerations with accuracy he couldn't even attribute to the g-gnomes as even they had their limitations. They'd never managed to breach his walls so...seamlessly, in such a practiced manner that he was sure that, if he hadn't been resisting...sickeningly, he wouldn't have even noticed she was in there.

In a stranger way, her being there, after only knowing a life where his thoughts were subject to the scrutiny of others on a constant basis, her presence almost felt...normal.

Normal enough that he almost wanted to relax, to let her root around until she was finished, just as he had with the White-coats, just as he always had, but again, the throbbing began, and again, like clockwork, he resisted, a conscious effort that shimmered with anger, renewed and fresh in his mind.

No. No, he refused to go back to that place again, he refused to just let someone come and knock around in his head at their leisure.

She didn't have the right to do that, and though he couldn't elegantly articulate why, he felt he didn't need to.

Not to have her understand that this...he didn't want this.

"I s-said...stop...get out...my head...get out of my...h-head..."He spat, pushing away from the wall slowly, gritting his teeth at the pressure of her thoughts, her psychic powers, compared to his own. Kon-el thought it so odd that it was harder to do that than to just...let her wash over him, to let her leave on her own without resisting. In fact, resisting was becoming harder as the girl tilted her head, in the opposite direction this time, a look of confusion filtering through as she went to touch him again. Once her green fingers had touched his arm, he felt his resolve weaken a bit, as if the contact itself was all she needed to do away with his pesky resistance and to resume her efforts without so much as a hiccup in the stream of power that had him in a choke hold. He tried to whisper another protest, feeling, in no uncertain terms, the urge to relax.

He just wanted to...talk to her.

But...he'd just wanted to go to his room a minute ago...or...had it been a minute ago? He...couldn't tell. In fact...where was he? Was he still at Mount Justice? Everything felt so...fuzzy. So...warm. Superboy smiled, a dopey look, as he looked at her.

She smiled back, clearly pleased.

"See? No need to be so upset, Kon-el. We'refriends, right? Friends know stuff about each other. You don't have to be angry. You're not mad at me...are you?"She asked so sweetly, so kindly, that Superboy, for a split second...almost conceded entirely. He wanted, for some reason, to say no, to continue to smile at her...to forget why he'd been mad in the first place. As a matter of fact, he realized with a start, a flash of horror collapsing over his once lax face...that was precisely what he was about to do. He could feel himself beginning to form the words in his mind:

"I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry, I overreacted."

"You're right; you're just trying to get to know me. I shouldn't be so mean."

Everything that she was saying herself...just as the g-gnomes had told him, just like would have said to do. It was just like them, but...she was so...kind. Unassuming.

Pretty.

It melted his mind as he opened his mouth to speak, even when that horror began to thaw, and sweet bliss overcame him.

"I...I-I - "But before he even got the chance to speak, he saw her eyes dart behind him, likely to the sound of the cave's entrance opening again, and somewhere beyond their reach, a metallic thudding began to draw closer, flagged, as far as his sensitive ears could tell, a pair of lighter, stealthy feet. After a moment, their voices drew closer, too, and through his hazy mind, though struggling to grasp his own thoughts, the teen could make out the scents of one of them.

Black Canary.

If she was here, he struggled to ponder, than those heavy steps had to be Red Tornado as, despite him not having a distinct smell, being a machine and all, it had been only them over the course of the last few days, and whilst Green Lantern had popped in every now and again, he, too, had a smell of his own.

Being organic and all.

His eyes flickered over to M'gann in a second that seemed too long for the split second that it took to pull them down to her, but her hold, in her minding of the two adults that were drawing closer and closer, began to weaken, just enough for him to clear the burning haze that had consumed his thoughts like wild fire in only a moment's time. That fleeting senses of liberation rang in his ears, and his body twitched, suddenly, with residual tension that he hadn't even noticed had built up in his bones and muscles.

He breathed in sharply.

He had a chance, he had to...push her out. If just to get their attention, to distract her - anything.

He had to do something.

So he did.

"Help - "He started, raising his, surprisingly, weak voice before he felt her powers grip his vocal muscles, effectively silencing in one fell swoop. It was almost...terrifying, see how effortless it was for her to do that.

The adults were getting closer.

He could hear them talking to each other, but only moments later, the veil fell over him again, and only her voice remained.

She smiled up at him as the pressure of her psionic grip tightened around his throat and mind, and she forced him to lean against the wall cooly, as if they were simply having pleasant conversation, and if it weren't for the twitch of his lips through that pressed smile against his face, or the twitch of her furrowed brow as she peered up at him with the sweet face...things would have looked almost...normal.

Almost.

"No. No, don't do that. You're not hurt. I'm not hurting you; you could get me in trouble like that, Kon-el. Why would you want to do that?"She asked, and a hurt expression fixed itself upon her face.

Superboy was silent, but his thoughts felt strangely...lucid.

What did she mean 'why'? What she serious?! He could think of a million reason why he wouldn't want some random person messing around in his head, and much less someone he barely knew! The clone felt every bone in his body tense with agitation that was quickly muted, almost too easily, by her power again.

It was getting harder to fight.

Kon-el could feel his stomach churn dangerously from the strain.

"Friends don't think like that, right? Friends don't...tell on each other.Right?"She asserted, pressing against his brain harder.

Kon-el's muscles's twitched.

His head was beginning to hurt. No, it had already begun to hurt; it was splitting how, turning his vision red with strain as his face remained unchanged, but his body screamed.

Was she...crushing him? Because that's what it felt like; like every fiber of his being wanted to explode, and his mouth only twitched occasionally as his arms crossed his chest, and the girl smiled wider.

His throat burned with bile, but he couldn't open his mouth.

It stung his tongue, seeped into his gums and made the roof of his mouth ache.

Red Tornado and Black Canary were coming to the entrance now, heading the way to the kitchen just some meters away.

"Friends don't tell on each other, okay?She whispered coldly, and slowly, painfully slowly, Superboy nodded.

And just as Black Canary and Red Tornado made their way into their line of sight, M'gaan released her hold on the clone. The veil was lifted, his throat released, and all at once he lurched forward, loosing the meager contents of his stomach in a mess of yellow bile and partially digested food, dinner from the night before. In a show of great concern, the martian bent at his side, rubbing his back gently as the two adults rushed towards them, meeting them quickly as, in a panicked voice, M'gann recounted the sudden event, slipping into her sweet, kind voice without a wasted moment, the performance so seamless that even Superboy was thrown by the whiplash of her tone.

"Oh my god, Superboy! What's going on! Are you okay?!" She asked in a panic, and only moments later, Red Tornado and Canary joined them, each hero flanking his side as they looked to M'gann for answers. All the while, Superboy heaved, retching horridly into his palm as his stomach, still not calm, bubbled dangerously, stealing away his voice...at least, in the physical sense. The very essence of his being wanted badly to tell them what had happened...but when he looked up again, and saw her sweet face, and that veil began to fade over him once more, his eyes grew...hazy.

M'gann gave him a sickeningly saccharine look, and whispered to him.

"Friends...don't...tell."

He'd been opening his mouth to speak, and felt the urge to dissipate.

Superboy paled.

He...couldn't talk.

Or rather...he didn't want to. In fact...he was struggling to grasp what he might have even been upset about in the first place. He knew something had happened, but...it was fuzzy.

All of it was...out of focus, though he knew for sure that she'd been in there, in his head. He wanted to fight it, the sensation of her influence, but now, only seconds later, it was hard to grasp at all what had occurred, with only little bits and pieces flickering in his mind until those, two, were silenced by the haze.

Only the feelings were left.

The fear, the pain, the discomfort.

But without a source, without anything concrete.

But he knew one thing:don't say a word.

Not...a...word.

Because that wasn't what friends were supposed to do. He wasn't sure where this thought arose, but it was ingrained his mind. It was almost instinctual, the train of thought that followed.

The silence that kept him from speaking.

"Kid? Kid! Hey, get yourself together! Think he ate something bad?" Canary started, shaking his shoulder lightly as he wiped his mouth again, he veil lifting slightly, but not enough for him to speak. His muscles trembled with strain, aching far more than they ever had when he'd fought and got pummeled by Desmond, or any of the other fights he'd ever gotten into. This aching felt different, far more internal, as if he'd been wrung dry for every bit of energy that he'd had, a sensation, he could thankfully say, he'd never felt before.

Yet with a touch of concern, he repeated the thought: he'd never felt like this before.

At his unresponsiveness, Red Tornado answered, assessing him quietly before turning back to Dinah.

"Perhaps. It isn't so much that he ate something bad so much as it is that his digestive tract may not have yet adjusted to food outside of the prepared meals of Cadmus. His immune system is likely still acclimating to the bacterial contents of his environment. His gastrointestinal upset may be due to over-consumption, of a sort. Tell me, Miss Martian; did he consume anything this morning?" The automaton asked, and quickly, she obliged an answer, never taking her eyes off of Kon-el as she responded.

"W-well, he was drinking some of the tap water. He got three glasses, I think." The girl reported, and Red Tornado nodded.

"Ah. After being adjusted to the likely highly filtered water of the lab, he likely just needs time to adjust to the bacteria he's being introduced to. Nothing that isn't to be expected, having grown up in such a...sterile environment." He concluded, and with a nod, and a clearing of her throat, Dinah grasped the clone's arm.

"Well, better get 'em back to his room. I'll have one of the bots clean this up. For now, we'll just monitor his condition, give him some space; sound good?" She asked, and with a glance to M'gann, Kon-el nodded, still feeling her words in his head.

Friends don't tell.

So he wouldn't.

Even if he really wanted to.

"I'm...fine. I'm fine. Just...ate a little too much, I think. Drank, I mean."He said, voiced raspy from strain. Superboy could still feel it, the light throb at the front of his skull, a reminder of something he couldn't quite recall as the three left the kitchen, M'gann in tow. He could hear the smile in her voice as she pet his back, patting it lightly in mock comfort as she followed them from the kitchen and back to his room.

"You have to be careful, Kon! You know you need time to get used to stuff. We don't want you getting sick, right?" The girl exclaimed, but Superboy didn't respond. Instead, he felt himself jerk away from her touch as, despite the flash of displeasure that rose and fell in split second. A change so quick that if one weren't looking for it or weren't observant enough, they certainly would have missed it.

Both Red Tornado and Black Canary did.

M'gann didn't speak of it, but her anger was clear.

Of course it was.

The veil of her power was almost akin to a wave, collapsing upon him with so much force that his body twitched violently in the grasp of their mentors, shocking them as he opened his mouth scream, but just like that, the veil was gone, a whisper that only persisted in the trembles of phantom pain that danced in his nerves with quiet presence that were forgotten just as quickly.

Superboy froze.

M'gann didn't stop smiling.

Sheneverstopped smiling.

But he saw it, if only a glimpse of that raw, raging animal that became inflamed by his defiance...and that only made him want to call upon it more, that refusal to concede that, though he was beginning to understand the extent of her power (or perhaps the very tips of it), his pride wouldn't allow him to give in.

Not that easily.

Not for her, not for anyone.

His thoughts seemed to make that smile bend a bit, and he looked away from her, biting his lip as the pressure on his mind built up again into a dull throb.

Nothing he wasn't quickly adjusting to.

"Yeah, we're gonna have to lay off on eating too heavily! Looks like whatever you ate is really doing a number on you, huh?" She exclaimed good-naturedly.

The adults, while perplexed at his sudden outburst, only looked at each other for a moment before continuing on their way.

"Yeah, you're going on bedrest. Just until this little...bug passes through you." Canary started, and soon enough, they were back in his bare room, and with little effort on the part of the adults, he was laid back upon his bed. The fabric was gentle upon his skin, a welcome change to the bristles of cold that had come with every brush of psionic force the girl presented to him in just this day and a half that they'd known each other. M'gann stood by the wayside, and from a distance, just outside of the door of his room, she looked so unlike that little monster that he'd seen, and for a split second, for a harrowing moment, he wondered in that had been her at all. Something in his mind wanted so badly to doubt it, to turn over and pretend that he couldn't feel the pain pulsing through his skull, nor the memory of something lost to his conscious mind that very much lived in his subconscious. Those precious few moments in that kitchen just minutes ago that he thought would resolve the discrepancy of her character in his mind...but he couldn't bring them forward.

In fact, as the adults that had been gracious enough to carry him to his room stepped away, and began to speak amongst themselves, he felt the moments prior, that violent pain that had racked him being fully and completely, fade, strangely, from his mind, that, too, becoming murkier as he tried to grab at the sensation that she'd clearly wrought...only for it to leave, too.

What...what's...going on with me? Why...why can't I - ,Without accounting for the whiplash, again, his thoughts were wiped away.

And M'gann's voice replaced them.

Seamlessly...entirely.

"Stop thinking about it."She told him in his mind, and he could tell she was doing...something.

He couldn't tell what, but it didn't feel good.

He fought her still.

"S-stop...doing...that...get...o-out..."Superboy tried to fight the tiredness that was beginning to befall him, and at his waning condition, both of the adults minded him.

"Someone's going to need to be with him. Just to be sure his condition doesn't worsen...but both you and I are needed at the Watchtower. But - " Before Red Tornado could even finish, M'gann was chiming in, that optimism in her voice so infectiously light and airy that it almost made the situation seem normal.

Almost.

"I can! I would hate to leave a new friend without trying my best to help them out." And stepping into the room, despite the fact that Superboy could feel himself slipping off back to sleep, or rather, unconscious as one could hardly qualify this as sleeping, his eyes and mouth snapped open in protest, biting back the numb tendrils of exhaustion that had started to overcome him, startling even the martian that hadn't expected him to speak.

He didn't care if she was going to be mad at him, he didn't give a shit if she glowered at him; there was no way that he was going to be left alone with her if he could help it.

The teen, even with the gaps in his memory, knew that wasn't good for him.

That wouldn't be good for him at all.

"N-NO! I don't want her to - " Before he could even finish, he saw M'gann's face change.

But time, it wasn't in anger.

But hurt.

"What? Why? I just want to help..." She whispered softly, that look of hurt deepening when his scowl crossed his features, wrenching that once dour, stoic stillness from his face and lacing it instead with a barely contained hostility he didn't mince. He had yet to grasp the subtleties of staving one's emotions, so every feeling that he had was expressed tenfold, even when the disapproving glances of his mentors were reflected back at him.

But he didn't care.

He didn't want to be alone with her.

Hecouldn'tbe alone with her.

He -

"Superboy, now, we understand that you might be uncomfortable at the moment, but showing hostility to someone that is just trying to help is not acceptable behavior, okay? We're only going to be gone for a few hours; Robin, and the others should be here soon. Around six, I think. We'll be back around that time, too. It'll be good to have someone here with you." Red Tornado explained patiently, though the clone could pick up the scolding undertones that hid in his voice. Of course, Canary agreed, nodding as she gestured for Miss Martian to come forward, the girl beaming as she came beside the older heroes, her glinting, warm eyes falling upon Kon-el as he stared back, piercing blue eyes unmoved even as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, born of the strain he was putting on himself to stay away.

Why...was he so tired all of a sudden?

He swallowed, clenching the blankets under him to root himself to the bed, doing everything that he could to keep his eyes from closing.

He had to stay awake. He...he didn't trust M'gann.

Already, only a day after meeting her...and he already felt something akin to discomfort when he looked into those fiery eyes, like cut, burning stones that looked back at him with concern he didn't understand.

Why does she look worried when she was the one that did this? Whatever it is...why can't I remember what she said?. He asked, turning away from Red Tornado and Canary with a defiant huff.

The two sighed.

"M'gann, keep an eye on him. No liquids or anything until his stomach settles in a bit, okay? We're just a call away, so stay close by and update in case something happens, okay?" Dinah asserted, and quickly, the girl agreed with a nod, plopping herself upon his bed and grasping his hand, only for Superboy to yank away from her.

If it weren't enough that the adults only looked more exhausted at his lack of cooperation, these looks only seemed to worsen when M'gann, expertly so, dressed her face again, donning a softened, hurt expression that made both Red Tornado and Canary glance at him with disapproval. He laid his hand back upon the blankets again, gripping them as tightly as he could as every muscle in his body tensed, as if bracing himself for a storm that threatened to throw him about, though stranger...that truth wasn't actually out of the question. From as far as he could tell...she was a storm...and one that he was barely prepared for.

As for why she was doing what she was...he couldn't begin to guess. The others weren't subject to her prying and neuroticism, not as far as he could tell. Of course, Robin, Aqualad, and Kid Flash hadn't been there since yesterday, so that wasn't much to go off of, but she seemed all too ready to target him.

More since she was...doing something to his head.

It scared him to think that he couldn't possibly guess what that was, but he searched desperately for an answer, even as Canary and Red Tornado turned to leave the room.

"Behave, Superboy. Don't give M'gann a hard time, understand? Sick or not, you must act decently."Red Tornado affirmed, and with a strained grunt, the teen watched them exit, staring them down and looking past the martian girl that was still at his side as the two were left alone. Solemnly, he felt his chest heave with pressure, hoping against hope that by some stroke of luck, they would stay.

But that was a pipe dream.

He listened as far as his hearing would stretch to their voices, to their scents, to their waning presences as the entrance to the hideout opened again, and just like that, without even a second to consider it, they were gone again.

And it was just the two of them once more.

There was a long moment of silence as the world appeared to turn again, with M'gann posted by his side at the end of his bed, and him, fighting sleep, at the top end of it. The two lock eyes again, though the girl was still smiling, a strange, even unsettling quirk that seemed, by his judgement, almost habitual as she didn't move, and neither had he. In fact, this moment lasted long enough for him to realize that the headache that he'd had before had mostly faded from his attention as it was now but a faint pulse at the back of his skull, complimenting the growing clarity that was clearing the haze that her powers had caused him. This sudden awareness, he noticed, hadn't brought to an end the auspicious tiredness that had settled over him, nor the fatigue that plagued his eyes and muscles in kind, but it was enough that he felt clear-minded enough to speak, gritting his teeth at her as he looked at her crossly.

He wanted an explanation, and he wanted it now.

"What the heck is your problem? I barely know you for a day and you spring all this mind stuff on me?! What's your deal?!" He asked, shouting more than he was earnestly questioning her, though he was genuinely, and rightfully so, curious as to what her aim was. Despite his fragmented memories of what she'd told him some time before in the kitchen, he had more than sufficient wherewithal to understand that it was her doing, and more than that, he needed to find out what.

But M'gann didn't readily offer the answer.

If anything, she all but stared at him, silent and grinning just as she had before, as if she were looking at him, or rather, through him, her thoughts unknown to her. It was that same look that the g-gnomes would have when they were speaking amongst each other, leaving him wondering, scrambling, to hang onto to any answer that they were kind enough to give when they felt inclined to give it. In any case, he hated when people did that, concealing the truth behind subtext and vagueness that he could very much do without.

He was finding out very quickly that he liked things to be blatant. He liked things to be clear-cut and easy to understand.

Superboy, more than anything else, didn't want to be left guessing and wondering and speculating.

He'd done that enough as it was. He was done being strung along.

This revelation, coupled with her persisting silence, only worked to sour his mood. She continued to stare at him, searching his features, he felt, for some sort of answer to a question he wasn't even aware was being asked.

He scowled, and he sat up, ignoring the subtle turn of his stomach from the motion; he was much too focused on her to care.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! What's you aim - " Superboy wouldn't get to finish as he watched her raise her hand, and he looked to her steady palm questioningly.

"What are you - " He started, but he wouldn't finish his words. His throat felt tight again, and that veil, the stony weight that had all but crushed his mind and made him placid, washed over him for the third time, but this instance proved far more effective than anything he'd ever felt. The g-gnomes were good at that, the motions of calming his mind on those scant occasions that he would become upset, worse yet expressing that anger in the form of actions that they didn't approve of. They would coax him with psychic gestures to become still, speak to him in soft tones that would guide his actions with subtlety and care...or, as much care as he was afforded at the time. The key component here, however, was that he could still resist.

That he could still act of his own accord up to a certain point as even Dubbliex, in all his psionic fortitude, didn't have even the fraction of the force and power that M'gann displayed in this single moment alone versus the months that he'd been around the former.

Not even a sliver of it.

Her raised hand lowered as he had been, the teen, with the pressure of her psychic powers, being slowly, gently, laid upon the sheets and blankets, the martian girl herself remaining unmoved. With care, she raised her other hand towards the door, and shut it with a quiet click, and like that, the room was sealed off from prying eyes and the bots beyond.

She was still smiling.

Superboy, however, felt his face go slack, lax and slow as she scooted closer to him. She released her hold on him as she no longer needed to keep him still, the sheer force of her mind enough as a weight to hold him steady upon the bed as she leaned forward, her voice still sweet and kind.

Ever so kind. So impossibly kind.

"We got off on the wrong foot, didn't we? I wanted you to cooperate, Kon-el. This isn't what I wanted." She started, the girl, peering into his dulling eyes, and Superboy, at once, felt himself give to her will, though a quieter, fighting thought persisted. How...had it been so easy for him to give? To just...concede to her will without so much as a moment to put up a fight? The clone couldn't even muster up the energy to speak as she laid a hand upon his chest, feeling the softening muscles underneath.

Superboy slowly, agonizingly slowly, looked over at her palm, and noted that her hand was moving, stroking his pronounced features and collarbone with absent-minded interest as she considered the grey fabric of his shirt. She took up a bit of the cotton material, rubbing it between her fingers as she continued, her tone sounding almost...disappointed.

"Why are you acting like this? I don't understand; this wasn't supposed to go this way, you know? I thought you would want me to look at your thoughts. How else were we supposed to get to know each other? Why are you making this so...s-so hard?" She wondered aloud, though it was clear that she was mostly speaking to herself as she hardly waited for him to answer before standing up, and she began to pace the room with quiet consideration that only made Superboy more nervous...or as nervous as he could be, seeing as his mind was so...cloudy. Even so, he tracked her with his eyes with great effort, a residual strength, he figured, could be owed to his kryptonian physiology, granting him some degree of endurance that he was sure wasn't similarly given to others that weren't as...hardy as he was. It even allowed him to turn his head slightly, even when most of his body was all but determined not to cooperate with him, but his meager efforts to move were largely ignored by the martian. She was too focused on her own thoughts to pay him heed.

"I greeted you...I showed concern for you...I even tried to understand your perspective...so what am I doing wrong? This should be working..." She said quietly to herself, but Kon-el could pick all of it up, even when he was having trouble processing her words; his mind was working at half-speed, and just thinking was a task on its own. But he had the wherewithal to consider her words.

And he wasn't buying it.

Was she serious? It was him that was making this difficult? So her forcing her way into his brain, rooting around in his thoughts and memories, strong-arming him in to cooperating, and then presumably altering his memory over the span of less than thirty minutes was him making things harder for her? Superboy, if he had the energy, would have surely burst with laughter at the frankly baffling claim, but he was relegated to silence as, appearing to hear his thoughts, she turned around swiftly, face twisted with confusion.

"Yes! Yes, you're making this too hard! We're supposed to be close, aren't we? So why can't you get what I'm trying to do? You fought me at every step, you were mean to me, you refuse to talk to me; what else was I supposed to do?" She shouted at him, and Superboy twitched as the weight of her powers grew. It was enough that his mouth opened, wrenched in quiet terror and pain as his eyes began to flutter shut, the pressure becoming too much. However, only a second later did she let up a bit as she must have noticed the quiet trickle of blood from his nose and realized that even that was too much for him. But she didn't seem too concerned; no, her concern was far more akin to annoyance than anything.

"See? That's what I mean! It wasn't this hard on Mars, so why - " In the middle of her question, the girl appeared to perk up, almost in realization as she looked at him again, her face and clarity clear.

"Oh, I get it...I...I think I get it." Miss Martian began, stopping her pacing for a breath as she considered him. Her eyes traveled the length of his body with unsettling focus that made him want to squirm from her gaze, though he could hardly move a muscle, even more now since his nose had begun to bleed. Despite the trouble he was having keeping his eyes open now, he could see, through the slits they'd become, her closer figure as she crossed the distance back over to him and knelt beside the bed, taking a hand to his sweaty, dark hair as she stroked it.

The smile was back, wider, far more elated, than it had been before.

"Sometimes, on Mars, when you have a person you really like but they don't like you back...sometimes you have to teach them. I did that a lot, you know. When there was fighting, I would teach my new friends how to be good, and I think..." Taking up a lock of his ebon hair and twirling it about her finger, she continued, perking up as she spoke, "...I have to teach you, too."

She asserted, and in his hazy mind, Superboy was given pause.

Teach him? Teach him...what?

"How to like me back, silly! What else?" She exclaimed sweetly, giving his head a scolding, light pat, as if telling a child something obvious, and that only made Superboy more confused? Like her? What...what was she talking about? The clone wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he was almost certain this wasn't the way you did things; even with his limited understanding of relationships, and healthy ones at that, he wasn't sure what she was getting at, but this...this didn't feel right. But even his meager protests didn't deter her as she looked at his face, only inches from his visage as her warm eyes twinkled.

She hadn't even acknowledged his thoughts in the slightest.

"Yeah, I'll just...teach you how to be with me! We can start as friends, and then..." Looking at him, a furious blush crowded her soft cheeks as she peered lower on his waist, towards his crotch as she stood and sat on the bed again. Superboy wasn't even sure what she was on about anymore as she began to touch his chest again, feeling out the edges of his pectorals before caressing his sides with feathery touches the clone didn't know how to respond to.

He...wasn't sure he liked that. Her...touching him like that. What was she -

"You will. One day, you'll like it, won't you? That's why I want to teach you! I want you to...want to like it. Okay? Then we can...do other things. Just the two of us, right?" M'gann whispered, and with careful hands, she trekked to his stomach, palming it gently as his mind reeled from the contact.

What...what did that mean? What did any of this mean? What was she talking about. -

Then he felt it. Her hand, playing with the edge of his sweatpants, tugging carefully at it as the fabric snapped against his skin. She was too enthralled to see the flickers of confusion and distress that were clear upon his face, her glittering eyes dead-focused on the soft-flesh underneath as she reached down further.

"N-no...no, don't...s-stop..."He started quietly, just barely getting the words out in the form of frantic thoughts that turned like warm molasses in his head. The teen opened his mouth slightly as he felt it, felther, grasp the print of his shaft beneath his pants and briefs as she slowly stroked him, ignoring the choked sound that whispered past his lips. She teased it a bit, biting her lips softly as the girl squirmed beside him in anticipation...with need.

Then just like that, she pulled away, minding her hand with almost shock as she turned back to him, appearing surprised with herself.

They sat in silence for a bit, both locking eyes for a moment before M'gann chuckled nervously.

She staved her hand to her side, as if unable to touch him again, not that Superboy was going to complain at all if she hadn't; the ghosts of contact to his privates were still very real in his head, and he shot daggers into her at the memory of it.

The boy didn't hide his vitriol, his...disbelief, at what she'd done.

She wasn't shy about minding it, either.

"Don't look at me like that...see? This is why I need to teach you. We...we can do that without you being all mad and stuff, you know? I just...we just have to show you the right way to think about it. But first...first, we have to start over." She said, and with a sigh, she raised her hands again, and pressed both temples, her smile never fading, even as his face began to twitch.

What was she doing? What was she going to do to him -

"When there was fighting, on my home planet, and they were teaching me how to fix people...sometimes, you have to wipe the slate clean and try again, you know? Sometimes you mess up...and the only way to make it right it is to start over...to do better next time."She whispered to him, and her eyes began to glow, bright halos of light so blinding that Superboy himself felt his eyes began to burn, but that wasn't the only thing that began to ache. A variation of aching and blistering heat grew in the places on his temples where her fingertips rested, and it was only by the virtue of him being rendered still and lax by her powers did the scream the distorted his features and forced his throat the rasp quietly become silent. The stinging pain only became more intense with each second that stumbled by, and though he had since begun to convulse, the movement of his body violent and spastic enough that she fought to keep her hands upon his head, M'gann was undeterred.

She was firm, her hands, gentle, her expression...unchanged.

But Kon-el felt something...overcome him. That same tiredness from before was there again, but awash upon his body and mind with vengeance he'd never felt.

He...wouldn't be able to hold on.

"We...can start over. And one day, when I teach you the right way to be, to think...then we can be...together. Doesn't that make you happy, Kon-el?" The martian pressed harder into his temples, and his mind began to give.

N-no...p-please...I...I-I - ,But he wouldn't finish the thought.

The heat was too much to bear, and with a agonized sigh, his body trembled just one more time before he relaxed.

As his eyes fluttered shut, he could still see her glowing eyes.

He could still see her smile, so kind, so sweet...and the darkness fell over him.

And he was gone.