The screech of tires against asphalt cut through the autumn afternoon like someone dragging a knife across the world.
Connor Smith jerked his head up from his phone, thumb frozen above a half-written text to his mom: *Yeah, running late again. Mr. Peterson wants me to help with the computer lab inventory.*
Not the most convincing lie in history, but believable enough. Truth was, he'd been hanging out with Jake and Marcus behind the gym, and losing track of time felt better than admitting he'd been avoiding going home to another awkward family dinner where his dad pretended everything was fine.
Then the world slowed.
A girl—six, maybe seven—darted into the street after a red rubber ball, pigtails bouncing with each carefree step. She was completely oblivious to the delivery truck thundering into the intersection, its driver's eyes going wide as dinner plates behind the windshield. His knuckles were bone-white on the wheel, and Connor didn't need his barely-passing AP Physics grade to know how this story ended.
The truck wouldn't stop in time. Simple math. Terrible math.
Connor's backpack hit the concrete before he even realized he'd moved, his phone clattering somewhere behind him. His beat-up sneakers slapped against the pavement in rhythm with his hammering heartbeat. Three steps. Four. Five. The world shrank to a tunnel vision nightmare: girl, truck, inevitable impact.
*She's so damn small.*
Connor hit her like he was going for the game-winning tackle—which, considering he'd been benched most of sophomore year, was probably the best athletic move of his life. He spun his body mid-collision, taking the momentum on his back while shoving her toward the sidewalk with every ounce of strength his lanky frame could manage.
The last thing he saw was her face—tear-streaked but breathing, alive—as concerned strangers rushed to scoop her into safety.
The last thing he felt was pain, white-hot and endless, followed by the strangest sense of peace as all the noise began to bleed away into silence.
*Worth it.*
---
Darkness.
Then… not-darkness, but something that looked like it had been designed by someone who thought Windows 95 screensavers were the height of cosmic sophistication.
Connor found himself floating in a space filled with swirls of light and shifting colors that gave off serious "we bought this off the cosmic clearance rack" vibes. He looked down at himself—still seventeen, still wearing his faded jeans and the Star Wars T-shirt his little sister had gotten him for his birthday. No blood. No twisted limbs. No pain. Just him, suspended in what looked like the universe's waiting room.
"Well, that was quite the heroic exit, young Connor."
The voice came from everywhere at once, warm and genuinely amused, like his favorite substitute teacher—the one who actually knew the subject material and could crack jokes that didn't make you want to crawl under your desk.
Connor turned—or maybe he didn't turn, because directions seemed to have given up and gone home here—and saw a figure that looked like someone had tried to stuff pure light into a person-shaped container. Not painful to look at exactly, but definitely in the "don't stare too long unless you want a cosmic migraine" category.
"Am I…?" Connor started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit that apparently survived death. "Am I dead?"
"Oh, absolutely," the figure said with the kind of cheerful certainty usually reserved for weather reports. "Very dead. Truck-kun strikes again. Textbook case, really."
Connor blinked slowly. "Did you… did you just call it *Truck-kun?*"
The figure's form seemed to puff up with pride. "Of course! Branding matters, Connor. You can't just call it 'vehicular manslaughter' when 'Truck-kun' has such nice alliteration. Plus, you're officially an isekai statistic now. Congratulations!"
Connor rubbed his face with both hands. "Great. Fantastic. My obituary is basically a meme. Mom's gonna love that."
"Hey now," the figure said, and Connor could practically hear the grin in his voice, "at least it wasn't Ladder-kun or Vending Machine-san. Those are just embarrassing."
Despite everything—the dying, the floating in cosmic screensaver land, the casual discussion of his demise—Connor found himself snorting with laughter. "Vending Machine-san? Really?"
"Japan, 1999. Guy got crushed trying to shake loose a bag of chips. Terrible way to go. Very undignified." The figure gestured dismissively. "At least you went out saving a little girl. Very heroic. Gold star material."
The mention of the girl snapped Connor back to attention. "Wait—the girl! Is she okay? Please tell me she's okay."
"More than okay," the figure said, and suddenly his tone shifted to something gentler, more serious. The space around them shimmered, and Connor wasn't just hearing anymore—it was like seeing with a sixth sense he'd never had before.
He watched Emma Sato grow up. Brilliant, stubborn, passionate about the environment in a way that made adults uncomfortable. MIT at sixteen. Revolutionary breakthroughs in carbon capture technology before she was twenty-five. Leading the global initiative that would reverse climate change and literally save the planet before she turned thirty.
Connor just stared, mouth slightly open. "Because I… because I shoved her out of the way?"
"Because you decided to play human speed bump for a six-year-old you'd never met," the figure confirmed. "Karmic chain reaction. Butterfly effect, except instead of wings flapping in Brazil, you decided that truck was going to have to go through you first."
Connor let out a low whistle. "I always figured I'd end up being just another guy fixing printers for the rest of his life. You know, 'Have you tried turning it off and on again?' for forty years until I retired to Florida." He paused, looking around the cosmic void. "Guess I actually… mattered?"
"You mattered," the being said simply, and Connor felt something warm settle in his chest. "Enough to earn yourself some serious cosmic currency."
Connor squinted at the light-person. "Cosmic currency. That sounds like frequent flyer miles but for souls."
The figure threw back his head and laughed—a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "Oh, I like you. Very practical. Most people start with the existential crisis and work their way up to humor."
"Yeah, well," Connor shrugged, "I've always been backwards like that. My guidance counselor said I have 'unconventional coping mechanisms.'" He gestured at their surroundings. "Though I guess this is probably outside her wheelhouse."
"Probably," the figure agreed. "Call me R.O.B., by the way. Random Omnipotent Being. Very standard in the industry."
"R.O.B." Connor tested the name. "You sound way too chill for an omnipotent being. Shouldn't you be more, I don't know, booming voice from the heavens? Lots of thees and thous?"
R.O.B. somehow managed to look sheepish despite being made of light. "Would it help if I spoke in Old English? I can do the whole 'thou hast been chosen' routine, but honestly, it gets old after the first few millennia."
"Please don't," Connor said quickly. "I'm failing English Lit as it is. Don't need Shakespeare's ghost judging my afterlife experience too."
"Fair enough." R.O.B. leaned forward—which shouldn't have been possible since he didn't exactly have a body, but apparently physics had completely given up in this place. "So, Connor Smith, here's the deal. Your heroic sacrifice has earned you a choice. New world, new life, and some serious upgrades to help you make the most of it."
"Upgrades?" Connor raised an eyebrow. "What am I, a smartphone?"
"More like a soul with DLC options," R.O.B. said with a grin Connor could somehow feel rather than see. "Your karma points are through the roof right now. We're talking premium package territory."
Windows began blooming in the void around them—not like computer windows, but literal windows into other realities. Connor saw sprawling sci-fi empires, fantasy kingdoms with dragons soaring overhead, worlds of magic and wonder that made his imagination feel small and limited.
But his eyes kept drifting back to one particular window, where a figure in red and blue soared above a city of impossible architecture.
"No way," Connor breathed. "Is that actually…?"
"DC Comics universe," R.O.B. confirmed. "One of the more popular destinations, actually. Good hero-to-villain ratio, decent coffee, excellent dramatic tension."
Connor found himself leaning closer to the window, watching Superman streak across the sky above Metropolis. "I mean… how would I even fit in there? I'm about as far from Kryptonian as you can get. I got a C+ in gym class."
"Well," R.O.B. said, and Connor could hear the mischief in his voice, "that's where those karma points come in handy. You get to choose who you want to be. Anyone in that universe. Your pick."
Connor's gaze moved across the window, taking in the Flash racing through Central City, Wonder Woman deflecting bullets with her bracelets, Green Lantern creating impossible constructs of pure will. Gods and legends, every one of them.
Then he saw a figure floating above Smallville, cape billowing in the wind—but there was something different about this one. Younger. More uncertain. Carrying himself like he wasn't quite sure he belonged in the cape.
"Superboy," Connor said quietly. "Connor Kent."
R.O.B.'s approval was almost tangible. "Excellent choice. Why him?"
Connor was quiet for a moment, watching the young hero through the window. "He's got all of Superman's power, right? But he's also got Lex Luthor's DNA. He's trying to figure out who he is beyond what other people made him to be." Connor glanced back at R.O.B. "I get that. The whole 'caught between two worlds' thing."
"Plus," Connor added with a slight grin, "flight and super strength don't exactly suck as career perks."
R.O.B. chuckled. "Very practical. But here's where it gets interesting—Cadmus isn't the only one handing out genetic upgrades in this scenario. Consider this your signing bonus."
"Signing bonus?"
"A system," R.O.B. explained, gesturing grandly. "Think video game mechanics applied to real life. Absorb abilities, grow stronger, level up, unlock new skills. Consider it a patch for human limitations."
Connor's eyebrows shot up. "So basically, a cosmic cheat code?"
"More like a cosmic DLC pack," R.O.B. corrected with mock solemnity. "Pre-order bonus included, season pass guaranteed."
Connor couldn't help but laugh. "You know what? Screw it. Sign me up. I'll be your discount Superman with a growth mindset."
"That's the spirit!" R.O.B. said, then his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "But Connor—and I mean this—power without wisdom is dangerous. Wisdom without power is tragedy. You're going to have opportunities to become something incredible, but you need to find your balance. Don't let the system make you forget who you are underneath it all."
Connor nodded, feeling the weight of the warning. "Got it. Don't become a power-drunk megalomaniac. Use my powers responsibly, be a hero, try not to accidentally conquer the world."
"Exactly. Though I have confidence you'll figure it out. You've already proven you're willing to sacrifice yourself for someone else. That's not something that changes, no matter how many new abilities you pick up."
The void around them began to dissolve, colors bleeding away as Connor felt himself being pulled toward the DC window. His reflection caught his eye in the swirling light—no longer Connor Smith, awkward high school senior who peaked at JV benchwarmer, but something with potential he'd never dared to imagine.
"Thank you," Connor said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. "For the second chance. For believing I earned it."
R.O.B.'s warmth surrounded him one last time. "No, Connor. Thank you. You saved the world, and you don't even know it yet. Now go show them what a real hero looks like."
And then Connor was falling, flying, being carried toward his new life, with possibilities stretching farther than the stars and a system humming to life in the back of his mind, ready to help him become something extraordinary.
---
*[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION... LOADING...]*
—
Connor's first breath in his new life tasted like antiseptic and broken dreams.
His eyes snapped open to harsh fluorescent lighting that made his retinas feel like they were being flash-fried by a particularly vindictive photographer. The ceiling above him was sterile white tiles—the kind you'd find in a hospital where they'd given up on making anyone feel better, or a really depressing office building where dreams went to die.
Everything smelled clinical. That particular blend of disinfectant, barely-contained desperation, and what he was pretty sure was the lingering scent of fear that screamed "secret government facility" louder than a neon sign.
He tried to sit up and immediately regretted every life choice that had led to this moment. His body felt completely wrong, like someone had taken his nervous system and plugged it into a Ferrari when he'd been expecting a Honda Civic. Too strong, too sensitive, too *everything*. The simple act of moving his hand created what sounded suspiciously like a small sonic boom as it cut through the air.
"Okay," he muttered, his voice coming out deeper and more resonant than he remembered—like someone had given his vocal cords a software update. "That's definitely new. And probably not covered by my health insurance."
*[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]*
The text appeared in his peripheral vision like a heads-up display, translucent blue letters that definitely hadn't been there when he'd died saving that little girl. Connor blinked hard, rubbing his eyes with what he hoped was still a normal amount of force.
"Please don't be a concussion hallucination," he whispered. "I really don't need brain damage on top of everything else."
*[GENETIC STABILIZATION: 100%]*
*[CADMUS MATRIX INTEGRATION: SUCCESSFUL]*
*[KRYPTONIAN TEMPLATE: ACTIVE]*
*[LEX LUTHOR MODIFICATIONS: INTEGRATED]*
"Well," Connor said to himself, staring at the impossible text floating in his vision, "at least I know I'm not in Kansas anymore. Or alive anymore. Details."
He heard footsteps approaching—heavy boots on metal flooring, multiple sets, moving with the kind of military precision that suggested these people had never heard of casual Friday.
*[ANOMALOUS SUBROUTINE DETECTED]*
*[GAMER SYSTEM INTEGRATION... COMPLETE]*
*Welcome, Player.*
*You have awakened as Project KR - Designation: SUPERBOY*
*Unique Ability Unlocked: [GENETIC ASSIMILATION INTERFACE]*
Connor's eyes went wide. "R.O.B., you magnificent, omnipotent bastard," he breathed, just as the door to what he was increasingly certain was either his room or his very fancy prison cell hissed open with the kind of mechanical precision that belonged in a sci-fi movie.
Three figures entered, and Connor's newly enhanced senses immediately went into overdrive, cataloging details he'd never have noticed before.
The first was a woman in a pristine lab coat, middle-aged with graying hair pulled back in a severe bun that suggested she took both her job and her caffeine intake very seriously. She carried a clipboard like it was a sacred text and had the kind of focused, analytical gaze that belonged on someone who dissected things for a living—hopefully just in the scientific sense.
Behind her came two guards in tactical gear that screamed "we shoot first and don't bother with questions afterward because there won't be anyone left to ask." They moved like they'd been doing this for years and had probably seen some things that would give normal people nightmares.
But it was the third figure that made Connor's newly enhanced senses go absolutely haywire.
Tall, pale, wearing what looked like a suit that cost more than most people's cars, with sharp features and eyes that suggested he was always three steps ahead of everyone else in the room. There was something almost predatory about his stillness, like a shark that had learned to wear Armani.
Lex Luthor. In person. Looking exactly like he did in the comics, except somehow more *real*. More dangerous. More like someone who could convince you that black was white and make you thank him for the privilege.
"Ah," Lex said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey and twice as dangerous, "our young Kryptonian is finally awake. How are you feeling, Project KR?"
Connor's mouth went dry. This was it. This was actually happening. He was Superboy now, and Lex Luthor—his genetic father, technically speaking, which was a sentence that would have broken his brain a week ago—was standing three feet away with a smile that could have sold ice to Eskimos and probably had.
*[QUEST INITIATED: First Contact]*
*Objective: Survive initial evaluation without revealing system*
*Reward: 500 XP, Basic Combat Training unlock*
*Failure Condition: Discovery of anomalous abilities*
"I feel..." Connor started, then stopped. How exactly was Superboy supposed to sound? Confident? Confused? Like he'd just woken up from the world's weirdest science experiment? He decided to split the difference and go with honest bewilderment. "Strong. Really, really strong. Like I could punch through a wall without trying. Which is either really cool or really terrifying, depending on your perspective."
"Excellent," the woman with the clipboard said, making notes with the efficiency of someone who'd done this before. "Physical enhancement appears to be functioning within normal parameters. Cognitive function seems intact. I'm Dr. Desmond." She looked up from her clipboard with sharp, intelligent eyes. "Can you tell me your designation?"
Connor met her gaze. She had the look of someone who'd seen enough unusual things that a genetically engineered clone probably didn't even rank in her top ten weirdest Tuesdays. "Project KR," he said, testing how the words felt in his mouth. They tasted like metal and obligation.
"And your primary function?" Dr. Desmond asked, pen poised over her clipboard like she was conducting the world's most casual job interview.
This was a test. Connor could feel it in the way they all watched him, waiting for his response like his next words would determine whether he got a gold star or a one-way ticket to the nearest dissection table.
"To serve Cadmus," he said, hating how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. But survival trumped honesty, and he was pretty sure these people weren't the type to appreciate philosophical debates about free will and self-determination.
Lex's smile widened, and it was the kind of expression that belonged on a shark who'd just spotted a particularly tasty swimmer. "Very good. Though I prefer to think of it as serving a greater purpose. You see, KR, you are humanity's answer to the alien threat. Superman may have fooled the world into thinking he's some kind of savior—all cape-fluttering heroics and boy scout morality—but we know better, don't we?"
*[ALIGNMENT DETECTION: Lex Luthor - Antagonistic/Manipulative]*
*[WARNING: Subject attempting to influence Player psychology]*
*[COUNTER-MANIPULATION PROTOCOLS RECOMMENDED]*
Connor nodded slowly, playing along while his enhanced mind raced through possibilities. "Superman is a threat to humanity," he said, putting just enough conviction in his voice to sound believable.
"Precisely." Lex stepped closer, and Connor had to fight every instinct that was telling him to back away. The man radiated danger like a space heater radiated warmth. "You have his powers—perhaps even greater powers—but you were born here, created by human ingenuity and ambition. You are what he could never be: truly loyal to your own species."
Dr. Desmond glanced up from her notes. "Lex, we should be careful about imprinting too complex a psychological framework at this stage. The subject has been conscious for less than ten minutes."
"Amanda," Lex said, not looking away from Connor, "our boy here is clearly more advanced than we anticipated. Look at him—he's already processing information, making connections, adapting to his new reality. Most clones take hours to achieve this level of cognitive function."
*[TUTORIAL QUEST AVAILABLE: Genetic Analysis]*
*Objective: Observe Lex Luthor for 60 seconds*
*Reward: Basic [GENETIC SIGHT] ability*
*[Accept? Y/N]*
Connor mentally selected 'Yes' while trying to look appropriately attentive and not like he was running supernatural reconnaissance on his genetic father. He focused on Lex, letting his enhanced senses drink in every detail.
After a moment, information began flowing across his vision like he'd suddenly gained access to the world's most advanced biological scanner:
*[SCANNING... 15% complete]*
*[Subject: Alexander Joseph "Lex" Luthor]*
*[Species: Human (Heavily Enhanced)]*
*[Age: 35 (Biological), 42 (Chronological)]*
*[Enhancements Detected: Neural processing implants, cardiovascular optimization, longevity treatments, toxin resistance modifications]*
*[Threat Level: Extreme (Intellectual/Resources/Ruthlessness)]*
*[Absorption Potential: Leadership abilities, strategic thinking, technological aptitude, manipulation resistance]*
*[Notable: Subject shows signs of obsessive personality markers regarding Kryptonian entities]*
"Fascinating," Connor murmured, then realized he'd said it out loud when all three adults focused on him with laser intensity.
"What's fascinating?" Dr. Desmond asked, pen ready.
Connor scrambled for a cover story. "Just... processing. Everything feels so much sharper than before. I can hear conversations from other floors, see individual dust particles in the air. It's like someone upgraded my entire sensory package."
Lex's eyes lit up with something that might have been pride or hunger. Possibly both. "Excellent. The Kryptonian sensory enhancement package is performing exactly as designed." He turned to Dr. Desmond. "Amanda, I think it's time we began the next phase of KR's education. Combat training, tactical analysis, field operations."
Dr. Desmond frowned, her scientific instincts clearly warring with whatever authority Lex held over this operation. "Sir, the subject has only been conscious for eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Standard protocol calls for at least seventy-two hours of baseline psychological and physiological testing before moving to active training scenarios."
"Standard protocol," Lex said with the tone of someone who considered protocols more like gentle suggestions, "was written for standard subjects. Does our young friend here strike you as standard, Doctor?"
Dr. Desmond looked at Connor with those sharp, analytical eyes. "No," she admitted reluctantly. "Cognitive development is proceeding at roughly fifteen times normal clone parameters. Physical adaptation appears to be complete. But Lex, we don't know what kind of psychological framework we're dealing with here. Accelerated development could lead to instability, identity fragmentation, aggressive tendencies—"
"Or," Lex interrupted smoothly, "it could lead to exactly the kind of adaptive, intelligent operative we need. Look at him, Amanda. He's not showing signs of distress or confusion. He's curious, alert, engaged. Those are the marks of a stable personality, not a fragmented one."
Connor realized they were talking about him like he was a particularly interesting lab specimen, which, to be fair, he probably was. "I feel stable," he offered, trying to sound helpful rather than defensive. "I mean, everything's new and overwhelming, but I don't feel like I'm going to have a psychotic break or anything. Just... really, really hungry. Is that normal?"
Dr. Desmond made another note. "Accelerated metabolism due to Kryptonian physiology. We'll need to establish a feeding schedule." She looked back at Lex. "Fine. But I want continuous monitoring during training exercises. If I see any signs of instability—"
"You'll have my full support in implementing whatever protocols you deem necessary," Lex said with the kind of smile that suggested he was humoring her. "Now, shall we see what our investment can do?"
*[GENETIC SIGHT UNLOCKED]*
*[PASSIVE ABILITY: Can detect genetic anomalies, enhancements, and species variants]*
*[QUEST COMPLETE: Genetic Analysis]*
*[XP GAINED: 200]*
"I'm ready," Connor said, and meant it. His new body was settling into itself like a perfectly fitted glove, and the initial overwhelming rush of sensory input was organizing itself into something manageable. "What do you need me to do?"
Lex's smile widened into something that was probably supposed to be paternal but came across more like a shark who'd discovered the swimming pool was full of particularly slow fish. "That's exactly what I want to hear. Dr. Desmond, would you be so kind as to escort KR to Training Room 7? I think it's time we discovered just what our young Kryptonian is capable of."
As they moved toward the door, Connor caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a computer monitor. Black hair, blue eyes, strong jawline—he looked like a young Clark Kent, exactly as he'd requested from R.O.B. But there was something else in his reflection, something that hadn't been there in his previous life.
Confidence. Purpose. The beginning of power.
And maybe, just maybe, the wisdom to use it right.
*[QUEST COMPLETE: First Contact]*
*[500 XP Gained]*
*[Level Up! Current Level: 2]*
*[Attribute Points Available: 5]*
*[NEW QUEST: Prove Your Worth]*
*Objective: Complete combat training without seriously injuring personnel*
*Reward: Access to Cadmus database, Combat Skills unlock*
*Bonus Objective: Impress Lex Luthor*
*Bonus Reward: +1 Absorption Slot*
Connor allowed himself to be led down a corridor that looked like it had been designed by someone who thought "sterile intimidation" was a legitimate decorating theme. They passed laboratories filled with bubbling vats and computers that hummed with barely contained energy, and he caught glimpses of other projects—things that made his enhanced senses recoil instinctively.
This place was a fortress of science and ambition, and he was its newest weapon.
But he wasn't just any weapon. Thanks to R.O.B.'s gift, he was a weapon that could grow, adapt, evolve, and eventually choose its own targets.
"Tell me, KR," Lex said as they walked, his voice carrying the tone of someone making casual conversation about the weather, "what do you know about Superman?"
Connor pretended to think, accessing the downloaded knowledge that Cadmus had apparently stuffed into his brain during the creation process. "Alien. Kryptonian. Incredibly powerful. Claims to protect Earth but could destroy it without breaking a sweat if he decided he wanted to."
"Exactly." Lex's approval was almost tangible. "The alien has convinced humanity that he's some kind of benevolent guardian, but power corrupts, KR. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And Superman has more absolute power than any being in human history."
*[HIDDEN QUEST DETECTED: The Long Game]*
*Objective: Maintain cover while developing independent agenda*
*Reward: ???*
*Warning: Failure may result in termination*
*Note: This quest will evolve based on Player choices*
Dr. Desmond glanced at Connor as they walked. "How much of your knowledge base feels... native to you? And how much feels like downloaded information?"
Connor considered the question carefully. It was actually a really good one, and the fact that she was asking it suggested she understood the psychological complexities of his situation better than Lex wanted to admit.
"It's like..." Connor paused, trying to find the right analogy. "Like I know facts about things, but I don't have experience with them. I know Superman is powerful, but I've never seen him use that power. I know Cadmus created me to serve humanity, but I don't have memories of choosing that purpose. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense," Dr. Desmond said, making notes. "That's actually healthier than I was expecting. You're maintaining a clear distinction between inherited knowledge and personal experience. That suggests a strong sense of self."
Lex glanced back at them. "A strong sense of self that happens to align perfectly with humanity's needs. Convenient."
Connor nodded along, playing the role of the loyal clone while his enhanced mind processed everything he was seeing and hearing. Cadmus was impressive—the technology here was decades ahead of anything the public knew existed. But it was also undeniably a prison, dressed up in the language of purpose and duty.
These people had created him to be their weapon, their tool, their answer to problems they were too afraid to face themselves.
They had absolutely no idea that they'd just handed him the keys to becoming something far more dangerous than they'd ever imagined.
"I won't let you down," Connor said, and for the first time since waking up in this sterile nightmare, he was telling the absolute truth.
Just not in the way they expected.
---
*[CURRENT STATUS]*
*Level: 2*
*XP: 700/1000*
*Available Attribute Points: 5*
*[ACTIVE ABILITIES]*
*- Genetic Sight (Passive): Can detect genetic anomalies, enhancements, and species variants*
*- Kryptonian Physiology (Passive): Enhanced strength, speed, durability, senses*
*- Solar Energy Absorption (Passive): Powers increase with solar exposure*
*[CURRENT STATS]*
*STR: 95/100 (Kryptonian baseline - capable of lifting approximately 50 tons)*
*CON: 98/100 (Solar-powered durability - resistant to most conventional weapons)*
*DEX: 75/100 (Enhanced reflexes - capable of supersonic movement)*
*INT: 60/100 (Cadmus knowledge download + high school education)*
*WIS: 45/100 (Teenage clone mentality - developing)*
*CHA: 50/100 (Learning social dynamics - natural charm emerging)*
*LCK: 85/100 (Heroic karma bonus from previous life)*
*[ABSORPTION SLOTS: 0/1]*
*[Available for absorption: Leadership abilities, strategic thinking, manipulation resistance from Lex Luthor - requires extended contact]*
---
**Meanwhile, in Gotham...**
The Cave's computer screens cast blue light across Batman's cowled face as he reviewed the latest intelligence on Cadmus. Three months of investigation had finally yielded something concrete—shipping manifests, energy consumption patterns, and most damning of all, intercepted communications referencing "Project KR" and "Kryptonian genetic material."
"Tonight," Batman said without preamble as Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin gathered around the central console. "Cadmus has been operating under our noses for too long."
Dick Grayson, now nineteen and comfortable in the Nightwing identity, studied the facility schematics with the kind of focus that came from years of this work. "That's a lot of underground levels for a genetics research company. What exactly are we expecting to find down there?"
"Illegal human experimentation at minimum," Batman replied, pulling up satellite imagery of the innocuous-looking building. "Possibly cloning. The power consumption suggests something that requires massive resources—industrial-scale genetic manipulation."
Barbara Gordon adjusted her cowl, her eighteen-year-old determination evident even behind the mask. "Any connection to Superman? Some of these communication fragments mention Kryptonian DNA."
"That's what we're going to find out." Batman's voice carried the grim certainty that had made criminals across Gotham check their shadows twice. "Robin, you'll handle external security—cameras, alarms, perimeter guards. Nightwing and Batgirl, we go in through the service tunnels here." He indicated a point on the schematic. "Extract any victims first, gather intelligence second."
Thirteen-year-old Jason Todd cracked his knuckles with the kind of eager violence that made Batman occasionally wonder if he'd been too lenient in his training. "What if we run into whatever they're cooking down there? Some kind of super-soldier program?"
"Then we adapt," Batman said simply. "But Jason—if we encounter anything that seems beyond conventional threat parameters, you retreat and call for backup. No heroics."
"Since when do any of us avoid heroics?" Dick asked with a grin that was visible even behind his domino mask.
Batman's expression somehow managed to become grimmer. "Since we started investigating people who think they can improve on Kryptonian genetics. Move out."
The Batplane cut through Gotham's perpetual cloud cover like a shadow given purpose. As they approached the Cadmus facility, Barbara's sensors picked up something unusual.
"Bruce," she said, her voice tight with concentration, "I'm reading massive energy discharges from sublevel seven. Whatever they're doing down there, it's happening right now."
Batman's hands tightened on the controls. In the distance, the Cadmus building sat quiet and unremarkable, giving no hint of the secrets buried beneath its foundation.
"Then we're just in time," he said, and pushed the Batplane into a steeper descent.
Behind them, Gotham's lights faded into the darkness, and ahead waited whatever Cadmus had been hiding in their sterile laboratories. Whatever Project KR was, the Bat-family was about to meet it face to face.
---
*[SYSTEM ALERT: Unknown variables detected]*
*[New players entering scenario]*
*[Threat assessment: Potentially catastrophic to current mission parameters]*
*[Recommendation: Prepare for immediate tactical adaptation]*
---
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