SuperHuman - Chapter 4
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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
-Connor Luthor-
Looking at the green rock encased in heavy glass, I was glad that the box was airtight, preventing me from being affected by the radiation. 
Kryptonite. My greatest weakness. It seems unbelievable how even just being in the presence of the green crystal could hurt me so much.
I felt a shiver go down my back, taking in a deep breath as the memories hit me. There was a time when Superman was stabbed by Metallo, thinking their battle would be the last moment of his life; he was only saved by a boy who threw a ball at Metallo, successfully distracting the villain long enough for his body to start repairing on its own.
‘That’s one memory I certainly didn’t want to see,’ I grimaced, sitting down to steady myself.
It brought me some comfort that I had a better resistance to Kryptonite than Superman did. Perks of being partially human, but I didn’t plan on testing by how much any time soon.
My eyes drifted to Lex’s suit. The Warsuit, or Lexosuit as Lex called it privately in his head. He hadn’t been wearing it recently, not since Superman died, and that was probably for the best.
Especially when the kryptonite was killing him.
Nearly all iterations of Lex Luthor carried some form of Kryptonite. This one was no different. Be it a ring, the suit itself, or in a lead-covered box. His obsession with Superman led to him carrying a piece everywhere he went.
If a human is exposed to Kryptonite in the short-term, it would do nothing. It would be negligible. But over a long period of time, say years, the Kryptonite would start to affect the body, the radiation causing blood poisoning and cancer.
However, due to the rarity of Kryptonite and the number of people that carried the material with them being extremely low, they didn’t know it as fact.
I’ll have to ‘discover’ this later, but I wanted to build my suit first.
The Warsuit relied entirely on liquid Kryptonite as a fuel source. It worked well, extremely well for Lex, but I needed a better alternative.
Coming up with the idea for the Iron Man suit was easy; after all, I used the Warsuit's internals as the basis. I know what I want to do and how to do it, but the power source Tony used doesn’t exist here.
If I wanted to make one I could actually fly in, I couldn’t use Kryptonite as the power source. Not if I want to kill myself a lot faster than Lex is already doing to himself.
I yawned, feeling tired. I’d been working for hours on the chestplate, and now, I couldn’t help but admire my work. It looked good, much better than anticipated, but it wasn’t finished. Not for another day or two.
Progress is slower than I wanted it to be. Lex wanted me to have a schedule, shadow meetings, understand the personnel, etc. Working on the suit is considered ‘Free Time.’
Looking at the suit and then down at the floor, I knitted my eyebrows together, trying to push myself off the ground.
Not jump, that’s all part of super-strength. But flight.
Lex’s words echoed in my head, and a part of me agreed with him. Another part didn’t.
In terms of powers, the three that define him are his flight, super-strength, and invulnerability. But that isn’t what makes him Superman.
It’s his heart that makes him Superman.
‘And that’s why I’m his pale imitation,’ I sighed, my shoulders sagging, giving up on flight for now.
I reached for my cup of coffee, accidentally adding too much pressure in my grip, causing it to shatter in my hand, coffee spilling onto the floor and into the cracks underneath.
I just stared at it, wishing it would just disappear. In annoyance, I dropped the handle, joining the rest of the cup on the ground.
“Let me deal with that, sir!” The janitor said, having noticed me while passing by.
“Thanks, Stan,” I muttered, looking up at the ceiling.
I need a break.
-Batman-
Sitting at the edge of the city, the three-story facility known as Cadmus Laboratories put on a clean corporate front. Built three years ago, it was a state-of-the-art facility with private financial backing. Its mission statement read simple enough: ‘For the future of all mankind.’
He disliked it immediately.
As he started the on-site investigation, he logged every inconsistency the location had, making him frown.
Six hours past closing, and the lot was full. Too many vehicles, zero foot traffic, no reason for visitors. Not only that, but Cadmus was pulling over twenty times the wattage from the power grid it ever should. 
Whatever Cadmus was hiding, it required power. And lots of it.
Using the dead of night as cover, he glided down to the roof, remaining hidden from cameras and the lone guard at the entrance. Using his cryptographic sequencer, he set local cameras on loop as he silently infiltrated the grounds.
The destruction caused by “Conner” had already been repaired. The only thing out of place was that the doors looked more refurbished than any other part of the facility.
However, he didn’t enter through the front door, not when he could get through via the safer and far less monitored maintenance ducts.
Tapping the side of his cowl, his lenses shifted into ‘Detective Mode.’ His sonar technology mapped out the building, displaying wireframes and key locations within. Not only that, but it highlighted personnel, appearing as red figures in his vision.
And so, he made his way to the elevator shaft, undetected by those within the building.
As he arrived at an opening, his frown deepened, his eyes narrowing at the amount of wire cables used for the elevator.
Cadmus Labs public records show three main floors and one basement. The amount of wire on the elevator was at least ten times that.
As he saw the cable move, he melted into the shadows along the wall. The elevator passed by him with no more than a breeze, stopping two floors above him. In doing so, it allowed him to see a full view of the pit below.
‘52 levels,’ he counted, his detective vision allowing him to see the very bottom of the shaft. More notably, the place was lined with lead, shielding the facility. Whatever Cadmus was doing, at one point, they did not want Superman to know about it.
Stepping over the ledge, he plunged into the abyss, the wind rushing past him as he fell down the elevator shaft.
Four seconds.
For four seconds, he dove headfirst into the dark below, silently counting each elevator door he passed as he fell further down. Before he reached the end, he flared his cape, successfully catching his fall and preventing him from becoming a splatter on the ground.
Instead, he gently landed in a crouch, his eyes glowing in the dark around him as he saw the counterweight start to move.
He stood up straight, closed his eyes, and leaned against the cold metal of the elevator doors, listening for voices or footsteps within.
Nothing.
Good.
But he wasn’t done yet.
His hand dropped to his utility belt, retrieving the Cryptographic Sequencer. The device immediately swept the local network, pinging dozens of nearby access points. He narrowed the signal range, isolating only the nodes bound to Level 52.
It took only seconds to break the encryption, seize the feeds, and freeze the static loop on every monitor on the floor.
With the security network dead, he bypassed the door controls, the doors opening with a small chime, revealing all that lay within.
Or rather, who.
He moved silently into the chamber, his lenses scanning row after row of glass vats, each big enough to house a full-grown man.
Each vat contained a duplicate of Clark, though with subtle variation. Their ages differed. Some had abnormalities, like one with a third eye, another with purple skin.
Others were separated from the main batch, absent of life signs.
His hand clenched into a fist. He was angry, but his anger wouldn’t help here. Raising a finger to his cowl, he opened a channel to the League.
"Justice League, this is Batman. Secure the facility and move in.”
He looked across the endless rows of glass coffins.
“Cadmus is creating an army of Supermen.”
-Conner Luthor-
Tactile Telekinesis.
An ability Superboy can have where he produces a telekinetic field through physical contact. While one power, it was a catch-all in terms of power, allowing simulated super strength, a personal forcefield, and even flight.
The ability required conscious and active thought rather than being instinctive. With it, Superboy was able to mimic the powers Superman had.
Touching the side of the cup with my finger, I tried to raise it into the air with my mind. Only slightly, just an inch or so off the ground. However, despite my wishes, the cup of coffee remained still on the table.
‘Even in death we live in his shadow, because humanity was weak enough to let him cast one.’ I pondered Lex’s words, only partially agreeing.
Superman was alone in this world.
Not in terms of family. Both his parents loved him dearly. The same with Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen.
But the Super-Family doesn’t exist. Superman doesn’t have kids, so that rules out Jonathan, Jason, Jordan, or Lara. Supergirl? If she does exist, she hasn’t reached Earth yet.
Clark never had any pets. It’s possible Krypto exists, though when I escaped Cadmus, I didn’t come across him. That being said, I wasn’t looking for him at the time. My only concern was escaping.
There’s one more I’m concerned about. The Eradicator.
It’s a toss-up if he’s evil or not. Usually is. He’s a Kryptonian AI obsessed with preserving Kryptonian culture at all cost. During the ‘Death of Superman’ timelines, he’s the one who revives Superman, placing him in a healing pod in the Fortress of Solitude. 
He acted as Superman’s replacement for a bit, though he was much more brutal than Superman was. Worse, he despises mixing Kryptonian and Human technology. If he saw me, it isn’t out of the question that he would try to kill me on sight.
‘If he even exists,’ I thought, giving up on trying to make my coffee float for now. Gently, taking it into my hands, I took a sip, grimacing at the taste.
‘Roasting process was uneven. Attempted extraction far below optimal 93-degree threshold, 12 grams of sugar. Milk slightly past expiration date. Uneven distribution. Unknown Ingredient added. Ensures better taste. Result: Substandard Coffee with a kick.’
I looked at the price again.
‘Substandard coffee sold for eight times more than it's worth. Coffee shop still popular despite high prices. Accomplished through branding. Pathetic.’
It was probably more pathetic that I bought it in the first place.
A cough brought me out of my musings, my eyes meeting a man I’ve never seen before. 
“Is this seat taken?”
-Martian Manhunter-
To Humanity, Kryptonians look identical to them.
He could understand their viewpoint. After all, he has seen through their eyes before. The way they see the world is fascinatingly peaceful, if not a little bland.
However, it was beneficial for someone like him. If humanity had similar abilities to him, then it would have been nigh impossible to keep a secret identity.
As a Martian, every single animal on Earth feels different to him. A cat does not have the same type of mind as a dog. A rabbit to a cow. A Kryptonian to a Human.
Distinguishing between them was like night and day. Which is how he knew before he even met Conner that this wasn’t the friend he knew. It was something else.
When he saw Conner for the first time, his eyes looked over him on a cellular level. He saw more than just Conner’s bone structure, but the very DNA in his body.
The Kryptonian cellular matrix was there, but it was wrong. Incomplete. Replaced with something that looked stuck together with a paper clip.
A hybrid. Both Kryptonian and Human at once.
The Kryptonian DNA was undoubtedly Kal-El’s, though he had his suspicions as to who the human DNA belonged to.
Which is why he turned to look at LuthorCorp, particularly at the top floor of the building. He did a brief scan of the lone figure sitting in his office chair, and his suspicions were confirmed.
‘Conner Luthor. A crossbreed between Clark Kent and Lex Luthor,’ he corrected internally.
For a moment, he felt a brief form of disgust. Not at Conner; the boy was innocent in this. But Lex had desecrated Clark’s body, tarnished with his own genes, and for what purpose?
Was it a twisted form of hatred? Flattery? He would find out in due time, but he did not come to Metropolis to talk to Lex Luthor.
‘Please do not be alarmed,’ he projected telepathically. Naturally, the boy looked immediately alarmed, almost spilling the cup of coffee in his hand.
He looked young. Much younger than when he first met Superman. More noticeable was the tiredness around the teenager's eyes. The boy lacked sleep, and considering that he was drinking at a 24/7 coffee shop like Jitters, he didn’t intend to sleep soon either. It was a secret boon to him, as it made Conner more susceptible to revealing information.
The boy opened his mouth to say something only to snap it shut, hesitantly asking a question internally.
‘J’onn?’ he asked. ‘Is that you?’
Familiarity? Concerning. The thought, the expression to it- it sounded personal.
He then recalled the meeting on the Watchtower, how this person acted towards Lois. About knowing things that shouldn’t have been possible.
He let another moment pass, taking no joy in the conversation that was to follow.
‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ he answered, shifting a smile on his face. He took no joy in his caution. Necessary lies to find the cloaked truth, but it had to be done.
‘No, John, I–’ Conner scrunched his forehead, and he felt the boy's inner turmoil. It was a mix of happiness, sadness, guilt, and exasperation. Slowly, the boy closed his eyes, looking up at the ceiling fan in the coffee shop.
‘Lois told you about me, didn’t she?’
‘Indeed,’ he nodded, feeling the boy's exasperation grow. ‘I believe you made quite the impression on her.’
The emotions Ms. Lane felt could not be faked. A mix of hope and depression made it hurt to be in the same room as her. Especially considering how intense the emotions were.
‘I’m not him–’ the boy answered. ‘I’m not Clark, John. Just someone wearing his skin.’
More concerning. The boy knew his own identity and the original Superman’s. How did he know this? Did he know the name of all the members of the League? Who told him? Cadmus or Lex Luthor? Better yet, how did they learn this knowledge?
For a brief moment, he considered dropping all niceties and doing an in-depth scan to learn the truth. He quashed the thought as soon as it came. It would be immoral to do so. Unworthy for one called a hero, so he stopped himself.
Conner’s emotions were clear to him. Unlike himself, the boy wasn’t trying to deceive him.
‘Lois seemed adamant you were Clark. If not, then who are you really? And if you are not Clark, how do you know his and my identity?’
‘...Can we not do that, John?’ the boy asked him. ‘Can you just forget I ever existed? You, Lois, and whoever she told?’
‘That would be the Justice League,’ he clarified, watching the boy still.
“Of course the Justice League knows,” the boy groaned, his exasperation returning fourfold. “There goes any chance of a peaceful life.”
‘You believe you would have a more peaceful life with Lex Luthor?’ he asked, and Conner looked away.
‘No, but it would have avoided all the…tension I could have caused.’
Curious. Conner was expecting hostility from the Justice League. Surface thoughts let him know he expected the same from Lex, but was surprised that wasn’t the case. A few more surface thoughts later explained it.
He was made to be the next Superman, but is scared of the legacy. Of hurting those he once considered friends in the Justice League. Of being some sort of sleeper agent that–
‘You have Clark’s memories,’ And Conner shot him a glare.
“Get out of my head,” he whispered, but it had no heat in it. Conner glared at him for a few more seconds before sighing, finishing the rest of his coffee.
Meanwhile, his mind was working a mile a minute, weighing the dangers this revelation brought. But above all those concerns, he felt a sudden, heavy wave of guilt.
Despite the sheer impossibility of it all, the pieces started to make sense. How he knew his identity. Clark’s identity. How he knew the secret Lois was keeping so close to her chest.
And when given the opportunity to kindle a flame, he refused. He wouldn't lie to the woman he cared for, nor build a relationship on a farce, regardless of the affection he held for her.
In that moment, it made sense why Lois thought Conner and Clark were one and the same.
The boy inherited his self-sacrificing nature. His heart.
So many answers he held fell neatly into place with this realization.
All but one.
“But why have you aligned yourself with Lex Luthor?” he asked, doing his best to make his concern clear.  “What could he have offered that made you align with him?”
The boy's face shifted, clearly taking his time as he tried to settle on an answer to give. Eventually the boy sighed, meeting his eyes directly.
“Superman believed that anyone could be redeemed. Even Lex Luthor.” The boy's smile shifted awkwardly. “If there’s a chance Lex could come out a better person with me by his side, shouldn’t I at least try to take it?”
The answer made him still. Almost feeling horror at the thought. The answer, he could understand it. Superman did his best to help everyone, but the boy didn’t know any better.
Lex Luthor is a callous, cruel individual. Conner is new to the world. He could wish, hope that Conner could change Lex Luthor, but that is not what would happen.
Luthor would corrupt him. Turn him into the thing Superman always fought against.
It was a twisted, cruel irony. Yet beneath the shock, a quiet resolve settled in his chest, sharpening his purpose. He knew precisely what had to be done.
“Let me help you,” he offered, putting as much softness into his tone as he could. ‘I understand your worries. I understand your reasons. But this path was designed for you by Lex Luthor—it is not the one you have to walk.’
“The opposite, actually,” Conner frowned. “Not the walk bit, but Lex…his plan involved turning me into the next Superman. That plan's a bit different now.”
He didn’t want to imagine what that plan entailed. He couldn’t imagine Lex Luthor giving up a single ounce of control. It’s why he found Conner’s response worrying.
“That being said, there is one thing I’m worried about,” the boy admitted, and he jumped at the opportunity.
“How can I help you?”
“Mind control,” the boy said, making him feel confused for a moment. Did the boy believe he was— ”If I know Lex as well as I think I do, I think he would have a method of brainwashing me. Trigger phrases. I am…wary that he did something to me like that.”
Understanding dawned on him, and he felt his disgust increase tenfold for Luthor. It sounded exactly like something he would do. “Let me take you to the Watchtower and–”
“The Watchtower is the last place I should be,” Conner immediately countered, and he reached out to the boy, feeling his worries. Particularly about whether or not that was a plan of Luthor’s. A trap he would be falling into.
What that plan entailed, not even Conner was certain, just believed it would be a terrible idea.
“Then it doesn’t have to be at the Watchtower. Somewhere away from people,” he placated, and he felt Conner start to give some ground.
“Could you do that here?” Conner asked, “Do a quick scan and tell me if you find something?” and he shook his head.
“It is best to do this away from people. A safe, controlled environment is best for tests like these,” making Conner hum thoughtfully.
“Guess there isn’t much more to it,” Conner said, and he felt a mixture of relief and hope that Conner would turn away from Luthor. The man has caused enough suffering as is.
“When do we begin?”
-Conner Luthor-
Do I have a soul?
One version of Superboy asked that question to Raven of the Teen Titans. She should have easily been able to answer this question, considering she could actually see souls.
However, that version couldn’t see his soul. But that wasn’t because it wasn’t there.
Luthor had implanted commands into Superboy during his creation. So great was the influence of these instructions that it blocked out Superboy’s soul from Raven.
Not every Lex Luthor implanted commands into Conner, but the possibility of it happening to me isn’t zero.
Which is why I wanted Martian Manhunter’s help.
“We will be safe here,” J’onn said, and I agreed with him.
If J’onn does trigger any mental commands, it isn’t going to affect anyone out here. We were a bit past the edge of the city, hidden away in a cornfield. The worst that could happen is the crops get stepped on.
And J’onn could take me out easily. It wouldn’t even be a contest.
J’onn had dropped his disguise, changing into a form I easily recognized. Green skin, blue cape, with a red X crossing his chest. For a moment, I saw a flash of him fighting alongside me in battle.
“So you’re just going to take a look and check if I have any of these commands?” I asked, making him nod.
“It won’t take long. It would only last a second at most,” he said, and I felt a wave of calm.
“That’s good,” I said slowly. “But J’onn, I’m going to need you to promise me something: don’t go looking through my memories. That’s…private.”
“I will do my best to keep your privacy,” he answered, though I wasn’t certain he was telling the truth or not.
“Then let’s get this over with,” I said, and J’onn nodded.
There wasn’t much fanfare to it. He just asked me to remain still while he searched through my mind.
A full five seconds passed, making me raise my eyebrow at him, starting to worry slgightly.
“J’onn?” I asked, and he snapped to attention, gasping as he took a step back. “J’onn!”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though I didn’t believe him. “It’s just–” he started to say before he cut himself off.
“There were no traps in your mind,” he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That…that was good. Unexpected, but good. I didn’t have to worry about that going forward.
I started to laugh slightly, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders, as I patted him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, J’onn,” I smiled, and he turned, making me furrow my eyebrows. “J’onn?”
“I must go,” he said, my eyes widening as he started to fly.
“Wait!” I called after him as he flew high into the air. For a moment, I felt a brief spike of jealousy before I quashed it down, it being replaced by disbelief and worry as he flew further into the sky, eventually reaching the stars above.
For a moment, I was able to follow him, my eyes tracking his ascent, but as his speed picked up, he blurred, quickly fading into a speck of dust in my eyes.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of the Watchtower as he passed it—its cloaking technology shimmering for the briefest second before the station vanished from my sight.
I stood like that for a few moments, unsure how to feel. Disbelief. Confusion. Relief—-he left so abruptly. I couldn’t quite put what I wanted to say in words.
I looked around the cornfield, then back to the city, a groan escaping my lips.
‘I’m way too tired for this shit.’
Note: For Clarification, J’onn learnt that Conner has Clark Kent’s memories, but not Lex Luthor’s.  J’onn (being the only good telepath) respected Conner's wish to stay out of his head. But this meant he didn’t get all the information he could have gotten from Connor.