SuperHuman - Chapter 1
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Disclaimer: I do not own any franchises mentioned in this story. This is fan-based work of fiction.
Beta: Gerald_of_Revea
Summary: “Never forget, it's your humanity that makes you strong.” In which Luthor finds Superboy before any hero does. Superboy!SI
-Lex Luthor-
$738,343,812.
That’s exactly the amount of funding that has gone into the Superboy Program.
If he dedicated his full time to the project, it wouldn’t have cost a tenth of that. Having to delegate the work to lesser scientists annoyed him, but something he always seemed to lack nowadays was time.
The clones they made of Superman were unstable. Erratic. All due to the Kryptonian DNA that was collected. It was unstable. There were traps within it that turned the clones into monsters beyond recognition.
So, instead of attempting to make a clone, a different path was chosen. Hybridization. Using human DNA as a genetic bridge, a weaker but stable product could be produced.
This led to the birth of Project Kr. Half Kryptonian, Half Human.
And two days ago, it escaped.
When the subject awoke from his pod, he did not ask questions. He moved swiftly; his actions were calculated. The G-Gnome that tried to stop him was killed. Before a response team could be formed, Superboy had already left Cadmus Labs, with little more than a couple of hundred dollars that had been stolen from his employees.
He has been tracking him ever since.
The boy was peculiar. He acted outside of expectations. He did not try to find the local heroes such as Wonder Woman or Batman; instead, he headed straight to Metropolis.
Originally, he thought Superboy was coming for him. To try to be the ‘hero’ that Superman once was. Which is why he was prepared to face him. To have a battle that the boy simply could not win.
Except the battle never came.
When Superboy came to Metropolis, he had been following his every step. The boy had been visiting different locations in the city, seemingly without any rhyme or reason, such as the Queensland Boardwalk, Metropolis Cemetery, and the Daily Planet.
He did not fight. He did not fly. He did not use the powers that he was born with.
Criminals robbed a store near him once, and he did nothing to stop it. He hasn’t put on a shirt with Superman’s symbol and proclaimed himself as Metropolis’s next hero.
It left him feeling curious, with more questions than answers.
Which is why he decided to approach him personally.
-Superboy-
I used to think it was our families that made us who we are. Then I hoped it was our friends.
But if you look at history, the great men and women of the world have always been defined by their enemies.
For Batman, it's the Joker.
For The Flash, it’s Reverse-Flash.
For Superman, it’s Lex Luthor.
Except in this world, Lex Luthor can’t be Superman’s greatest enemy. Rival? Sure. But enemy? No. Not when he didn’t deliver the final blow.
Superman is dead, killed by Doomsday.
His origin is still unknown. He just showed up one day and started wreaking havoc. Many members of the Justice League were defeated by it.
Eventually, Doomsday was defeated, but it wasn’t without cost. With Superman dead, Metropolis has been without a hero.
Crime has started to rise. The fear criminals had of Superman is all but gone, and no one has stood up to take his place.
Any hero who tries would be compared to Superman. ‘The Greatest Hero who ever Lived.’ They would be found wanting.
“How did I even get here in the first place?” I muttered, looking up into the sky. The clouds had darkened, and I felt the slightest bit of rain on my face. It felt fitting, especially considering where I was.
Metropolis Cemetery. There isn’t a more depressing place in the city. 
My eyes trailed over the memorial wall, hundreds of names engraved into granite in memory of those who died in the battle between Superman and Doomsday, my eyes landing on one in particular.
Clark Kent
‘It’s weird, seeing your name on the wall, knowing you are dead,’ I thought for a moment before pausing, a scowl coming onto my face.
This has been a recurring thing for the past few days. Since I’ve woken up, I’ve gotten flashes. Implanted memories that shouldn’t exist in the first place.
Memories of growing up in Smallville, but also growing up in Metropolis. If having two sets of memories wasn’t bad enough, the third was probably the worst.
Whereas Lex Luthor’s and Clark Kent's memories came in flashes, the third set was the most prominent. A man not born in this universe, where this world and a dozen like it were fiction. His memories came to me the easiest of the bunch, but there were still pieces missing, like his name.
But what he knew about this world was a goldmine of information.
Cognition Neuroplastic Replicant. C.N.R. My name is supposed to be Conner. A clone made from the genetic sequencing between Lex Luthor and Superman. The name will do for now; I can always change it later.
‘Not like anyone here knows it,’ I noted, feeling the rain start to get heavier. I doubt it could affect me; it’s not like I can get a common cold now that I’m part Kryptonian. That didn’t mean I liked walking around in wet clothes.
When I woke up from the pod, I was in this white suit. It was weird. I could feel it continuously feeding solar energy into my body, but I didn’t trust it. There had to be a tracker, an explosive, something on it. It’s what I would have done.
The first thing I did when I escaped Cadmus for good was toss it away. The casual clothes I stole weren’t nearly as comfortable. They tore easily. But now, I wouldn’t stand out clearly in a crowd.
‘I wonder if I can pull off the glasses trick?’ I thought idly. A passerby already told me that I looked like a younger version of Superman, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Sunglasses would be better. Obscures the face. It would prevent people from making the comparison outright.
But I’m low on funds. I can’t be frivolous with my spending. Stealing the clothes felt like a necessity; I can’t make the same excuse for the sunglasses.
I didn’t know why I came here. Not really. Not the cemetery, this city. It was just like something was telling me in the back of my mind that this is the place I needed to be. Why? I was still figuring that out.
“Hello, Superboy.”
My head turned instantly to see the last person I wanted to see in this world.
He was impeccably well-dressed. Black suit, red tie, dress shoes. Rain trickled down the blue umbrella he was carrying, but what surprised me the most was that he was alone.
I briefly scanned for his second-in-command, only to see no one else in sight, making my eyes narrow.
The action seemed entirely out of place for me. I’d have planned at least–
I knitted my eyebrows together, taking in a slow and steady breath.
‘My name is Conner. Not Lex Luthor. Not Clark Kent. My name is Conner. No matter what type of person those people are, neither of them are me.’
I met his eyes, his expression somewhere between neutral and smirking. Most wouldn’t notice the slight curve on his lip. My vision was more precise than most people.
“Hey Lex.”
He walked beside me, surprising me slightly as he held the umbrella over me.
If I knew him as well as I thought I did, there were probably at least 2 assassins pointing guns at me with Kryptonite bullets in the chamber. Deathstroke most likely. Perhaps Ravager for the second.
Sadly, if I did have X-Ray vision, I didn’t know how to activate it. It wasn’t as if I could squint hard enough and it would happen.
So it was either assassins, or Lex had Kryptonite on him. Likely both. Considering I didn’t feel like I was dying in the moment, the Kryptonite was probably in a lead-covered box.
“Tragic, isn’t it?” Lex mused, looking over the list of names. “William Artfield, he was a janitor working at Wayne Enterprises. He had two children; one of them was taken in the attack. George Buckley. A Waterboy for the Metropolis Monarchs. Is there anyone else you would like to know about?”
I looked at him, confused for a moment before understanding dawned on me.
“You’ve memorized them.”
“To most, these names will be lost to time. Collateral of monsters.” he met my eyes. “I refuse to forget them.”
A moment of silence passed between us as we both took in the list of names. All of them were displayed alphabetically, along with their year of birth.
But I almost didn’t believe the man. So I wanted to test him.
“What about this one here?” I asked, pointing to the most familiar name on the wall. “Tell me about him.”

“Clark Kent,” Lex breathed. “The man represented the best humanity had to offer. A strapping Midwestern farmer's boy with brains and integrity. Humble as well. He worked for the Daily Planet as a reporter, preferring to hunt for the truth rather than chase fame. And a good man.”
-Lex Luthor-
He surprised himself upon hearing his own words. More so than anything else, that it was true. His conversations with the man were few, but he could truthfully say that Clark Kent was one of the few people he was fond of—a mild-mannered boy with his head on straight.
“There’s another name,” Superboy said, making him look at him with interest.
Not only had he memorized every name on the wall, but he also spoke personally with each and every family that was affected. Personally paid for the dead's funerals. There is no one person on the wall that he didn’t know about in intricate detail.
“Which one?” he asked, but Superboy shook his head, turning away.
“It isn’t on the wall.”
He raised an eyebrow in interest, but decided to follow after him.
Metropolis Cemetery. It had been many years since he had been here. When he was a boy, he came here regularly. Now, he avoided it.
‘He’s taking me to–’ he frowned, clenching his fist tightly on the umbrella before loosening it just as quickly. He had better self-control than getting mad at a boy who didn’t know better.
In Memory of:
Lillian Luthor: 1951 – 1993
Lionel Luthor: 1944 – 2005
There was another gravestone beside it, left unmarked. The name forgotten to all but him. But that wasn’t why he was brought here.
“Are you sure that’s who you want to know more about?” he asked Superboy, the slightest bit of heat in his tone. “I assure you, he was not interesting.”
“I meant Lillian,” Superboy clarified, and he stilled.
It had been a long time since he had even heard her name.
“Lillian Luthor,” he repeated softly, as he started to reminisce.
There was lots he could say about his mother. She was everything his father wasn’t. Gentle, empathetic. 
“A woman of remarkable delicacy.”
Unstable. Erratic. Her death was long overdue.
Superboy hummed beside him, silently looking over the gravestone. There were no flowers. A policy of the cemetery. As a youth, he recalled bringing gardenias to his mother's grave, only to be told off by the gravekeeper.
Now that Lionel was there to join her, they could keep each other company. He couldn’t think of a worse punishment. 
“Dad was an asshole, wasn’t he?”
A smile almost graced his face upon hearing the words. It wouldn’t be what he would call Superman, but children, especially teenagers, are much more fond of expletives.
“Superman was–” he started to say, only to be cut off.
“I’m talking about Lionel.”
He stared at him.
In that moment, Superboy looked nothing like his predecessor. Not the monster he had fought, or the being worshiped as a god by the masses.
“And why do you say that?” he asked, and a small smile came onto Superboy’s face.
“You’re a smart man, Lex. You should be able to figure it out on your own.”
He simulated through the different scenarios in his head. Ignoring the thought that the boy was lying for now, he had been in the outside world for less than two days. Little time to research himself. All the boy's knowledge came from the G-Gnomes, bio-engineered organisms with telepathic abilities. It taught him knowledge of math, science, history, weapon manufacturing, geography, and more.
Nothing that was taught to Superboy should include Lionel, other than the snippet of information that his greatest achievement was helping create him.
He started to remember the places Superboy went through without the city. The Daily Planet. Biboo’s Diner, Centennial Park, all places Superman has seen publicly.
‘No, I need to try even before that,’ he thought, recalling the security footage of Cadmus Labs. The boy moved through the facility like he knew the layout. Such a thing couldn’t have been taught to him. Not with how strictly the G-Gnomes were monitored.
With all the information in mind, he narrowed it down to the most possible solution. An almost impossible solution.
“You have his memories,” he finished the sentence for him. “My own as well.”
He felt a wide range of emotions as Superboy nodded, his lips tugging into a familiar grin.
“Not all of them. They come in flashes. Pieces. My guess? I will have half of your memories. No more than that.”
The boy knew he was a hybrid. Worse, he had his memories. The boy is drawing conclusions too early, but that was to be expected. He was the same at his age.
DNA and memories are separate. It’s why he immediately didn’t believe the words coming from Superboy’s mouth. Memory isn’t stored in the DNA. If what Superboy is saying is true, he’s an impossibility.
‘Kryptonian DNA is much more complicated than anything found on Earth,’ he noted, running through calculations in his head. Kryptonian DNA allows for photovoltaic cellular absorption. Their cellular structure acts as a living battery, harvesting and concentrating solar radiation. That absorbed energy gives a Kryptonian access to their unearned abilities.
‘Could it be…by the Kryptonian DNA, by interacting with my own, ensured Superboy would inherit my memories as well,’ he thought, looking at Superboy with a newfound light. Superboy was created to replace Superman; he would not deny that, but there was something he didn’t account for.
That the test would be much more of a success than he originally thought.
“Follow me,” he decided, making Superboy raise an eyebrow at him.
“And why should I do that?”
“You have no obligation to listen to me, but it would be in your best interest.”
Superboy looked around again, and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If he wanted him dead, Superboy would be dead by now.
Besides, he wasn’t one to waste a good opportunity.
-Bartender-
He never wanted to run a bar. It was his inheritance, and not much more.
The Three Blind Pigs was popular once; his brother ran it well when he was alive. There were two options for him when his brother was murdered by him: either sell it off or take it over. Sentimentality won out, and he has been regretting it ever since.
He had no idea how to run a bar at first. Even now, he was still struggling. Customers were rare, the food wasn’t good, and he was late on payments.
So when the front door swung open and his first customer of the evening walked in, he froze.
The words caught in his throat. He was one of the most recognizable men alive, especially in Metropolis. There wasn’t a person in the city who didn’t know the name Lex Luthor.
And trailing behind the man was a boy, no older than sixteen, looking at the CEO of LuthorCorp in confusion.
"Fifty thousand dollars," Luthor said, his voice smooth, quiet, and completely devoid of warmth. “Close early for tonight. Leave the two of us alone, and the money will be yours. Do we have a deal?”
He almost jumped at the opportunity.
That type of money would be game-changing for him. It could give him the much-needed breathing room he needed. But as he looked at the boy behind Luthor, he had to stop himself. He needed to know more first.
“The boy can’t have anything,” he stated, meeting Luthor’s amused eyes. “He’s too young.”
“I assure you, neither of us will be drinking tonight,” Luthor agreed. “My companion and I are here for the entertainment, nothing more,” Luthor nodded towards the corner room.
A thin sheet of dust covered the pool table, having gone unused for weeks. The less said about the dartboard, the better. 
“Rest assured, I’ve no issue with you remaining here,” Luthor tried to placate. “But I wish for the two of us to be alone in our conversations. If you stay in the kitchen, there’ll be no issue, but I ask that you remain there.”
He didn’t like the idea. The bar was his now. But he was starting to give in. He gave a searching look to the boy by Luthor’s side, but the boy didn’t look worried. If anything, he looked as lost as he did.
“Deal,” he muttered, taking Luthor’s hand, the man offering him a thin smile.
He desperately hoped this deal didn’t come back to bite him.
-Conner-
“Do you know why you are here?”
“This is probably the last place I expected you to take me to,” I admitted, getting a small chuckle from the man.
Lex was chalking his cue, a small frown on his face as he held it in his hand. The balance was off. I didn’t know how I could tell, but mine was better. Which is why I remained quiet about it.
“Do you know how to play Pool?” he asked, making me raise an eyebrow at the man. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want me to break, or do you want the honors?”
“Just…go ahead,” I gestured, allowing him to take the first shot.
I watched slowly as he broke the balls. It was a light shot; I could instantly tell he was going easy on me. It made me go on edge.
“Do you know what your purpose was?”
“To replace Superman,” I rattled off, slowly leaning down on the table. “To become the next hero of Metropolis, and give you positive PR,” I finished, Lex nodding in agreement.
“That was your purpose,” he agreed, before pausing. “Not anymore.”
The comment startled me slightly, my cue smashing into the ball at a bad angle, making me miss my shot. The ball continued to bounce, the table looking nothing like how it looked just a turn before.
I glared at him for a moment, but he just smiled thinly, easily potting a ball in. “I didn’t expect the side effects.”
I said nothing as he continued to play. Even with the shoddy cue, it was clear he was a much better Pool player than I am.
“You are not a clone of Superman,” he admitted. “Not entirely. Errors occurred while synthesizing his DNA. A stability agent had to be added: human DNA.”
“And the reason you used your own DNA?” I asked, making him look at me with amusement.
“I do not make substandard products. You received the best DNA available,” and I had to hold back a snort.
He took his turn, the ball bouncing off the rails twice before hitting the target, cleanly potting the first ball.
“You are not me,” he commented. “A partial clone? Perhaps. Though at this point, I am closer to being your parent when we strictly look in terms of genetics.”
“Is that what this is? A bonding moment?” I asked, as Lex deliberately missed the next shot by an inch, the number two ball now covering the top right pocket.
“It’s an opportunity,” he countered. “An opportunity to get to know my son.”
I stared at him, and I felt a laugh bubble from within. I gripped my cue tightly and felt a crack within it. A scowl came onto my face, making me glare at the man.
“If you think for a moment I’m going to believe that, you’re mistaken.”
“I expected you to be like Superman. That was my mistake,” he admitted, surprising me. “Do you know what makes you better than Superman?”
“Your brain?” I asked, sarcastically, which seemed to amuse him.
“Your imperfections.”
I looked at him, not understanding what he meant, making him continue.
“You can call Superman many things. Compassionate, Strong, Powerful. But the last thing anyone would call him is human. Do you know why that is?”
“Because you think he’s perfect?”
“Because everyone thinks he’s perfect,” he corrected. “Superman has no flaws. Weaknesses? Yes, but flaws? No. And that’s the difference between you and him,” he said, circling the table to be beside me.
“You are not Superman. You are not even Kryptonian. You are something much better. You are Human.”
“And what are your flaws, Lex?” I asked, readying to take my shot. “Because if you don’t have any flaws, I guess you would be just as inhuman as Superman.”
“Ambition, pride, arrogance. I have so much to offer the world, but so little time on my hands.” he paused, looking down at me. “My biggest flaw is caring too much about legacy.”
“That’s a flaw?” I asked with amusement, making the man smile minutely. I ignored him for a moment, a small smile coming onto my face as I finally potted my first ball in.
The game was simultaneously easier and harder with my abilities. Instinctively, I knew the exact amount of power that was needed to hit the cue ball to pot the striped ball in. As well as the best angle and point to hit the cue ball from. But applying that all at once was becoming an issue.
My body was too strong. My calculations came from a human’s perspective and base of power. I’ve been slowly adjusting them to match my own.
“LuthorCorp is the second biggest company on the face of the Earth,” Lex commented, bringing me out of my musing. “We have our fingers in several different industries. Advanced technology, global defense, pharmaceuticals- if I see potential, I intend to invest in it. In a few more years, LuthorCorp will be the most profitable company in the world. But there was something I never invested in. Not because I never wanted to, but because I’ve never found the right candidate. Do you know what that is?”
‘A therapist?’ I almost commented, but held my tongue. Seeing this, Lex continued.
“A successor.”
The words caught me mid-stroke. My cue slipped, sending the ball launching off the table and cracking hard into the plaster wall behind him. Lex didn't even flinch. He simply walked over, picked up the stray ball, and set it back on the felt. 
“A successor?” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing at the man. I didn’t believe it for a moment. I knew how narcissistic I could be; he could never believe someone was approaching his equal unless–.
‘The only person he could see as an equal is himself,’ I realized, the pieces falling into place.
“The truth is, for all my struggles to make my mark in life, for all that I’ve accomplished in a few short generations, my name will be forgotten. Even the greatest of us can’t compete with time…and death.”
“I thought there would be no one in the world with the potential to rival me. Until thirty minutes ago. You have the potential to be great, Superboy. You have power, a sharp mind. But you are not great, not yet,” he said, circling the table once more.
“You lack control. If you don’t learn how to control your strength, someone will get hurt. You have a great mind, but you haven’t had the opportunity to harness it to its full ability. The heroes? They could help you, but they would never trust you, not with your origin,” he said, making my eyes narrow at him. “But perhaps under my leadership, you could become great. Greater than I could have possibly imagined. The name Lex Luthor may be lost to time eventually, but Luthor?” he paused. “The name Luthor may last a few generations longer.”
“But…you made me so I could become the next Superman,” I stated, feeling a turmoil of emotions inside me. This entire conversation so far was not going how I thought it was at all.
Comparing the Lex I knew and the Lex I was speaking to, they felt like two different people.
“I did. Now, I don’t want you to become Superman’s replacement,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I want you to become mine.”
I was hesitating.
Lex Luthor didn’t want to be a father. I doubted he even wanted a successor. The actions seemed so out of character for him, yet I wanted to believe him.
Superboy’s existence always caused issues, no matter what universe he’s in. Some accept them, some don’t, but something that always happens is that by my sheer existence, a rift is created. That’s not mentioning some of the more personal issues.
Neural instability. I’ve only existed in the outside world for three days. No side effects have happened yet, but they may. Amnesia, migraines, cognitive degradation- the best resources to handle those issues were with LuthorCorp.
‘Perhaps it’s better if the heroes never learn about me in the first place,’ the thought came to me, looking away at the man.
I let out a long, heavy breath, setting my cue stick against the edge of the table, having finally made my decision.
“What do you want me to do?”