Joseph's nanites—integrated with Atom's shrink technology and further augmented by the Speed Force and Strength Force—shrunk to the sub-cellular and even molecular scale. From there, they conducted direct chromosomal inspections, performed real-time sequencing of Kryptonian DNA, and mapped damaged loci across trillions of cells simultaneously.
Rather than relying on limited sampling, the system executed a full-body genomic census.
Once instability points were identified, Joseph deployed specialized nanites programmed as precision gene editors. They repaired mismatched base pairs, replaced corrupted gene segments with corrected sequences, and reinforced replication-fidelity enzymes.
Instead of crude CRISPR-style cuts, the nanites temporarily paused DNA replication, unzipped the strands, replaced faulty sequences atom by atom, and rebound them with reinforced molecular bonding.
While Joseph repaired the body, Dubbilex entered Match's mind telepathically. He stabilized fractured neural pathways, reduced the aggression patterns conditioned by Cadmus, and encouraged emotional regulation.
Joseph repaired the biology.
Dubbilex stabilized the psyche.
An hour later, Joseph finished.
Dubbilex, standing beside him, was visibly drained. Joseph took over the final mental adjustments and, as he had once done for Cassandra, gently integrated structured knowledge—English and Kryptonese—into Match's mind, ensuring fluency without overwhelming him.
The final result was simple.
Match was now no different from the average Kryptonian.
And then Joseph realized what he had just accomplished.
No civilization in the cosmos could replicate the precision and speed of his nanites.
With this power, he could theoretically accelerate humanity's evolution, cure cancer, eliminate genetic disease. He could reshape the trajectory of the species if he chose to.
But the problem was scale.
Tens of millions of people on Earth suffered from cancer alone. If each case required even an hour—like Match had—even with Speed Force acceleration, thousands of years would not be enough.
And that didn't account for the political resistance. Governments, corporations, the global medical industry—they would push back.
Though, realistically, he could bend them to his will with diplomacy or with force.
Still, there was no saving everyone. Not even the Citadel or the Reach had solved that problem. Even magic did not cure cancer effortlessly.
Heroes didn't stop fighting simply because they couldn't reach everyone.
But knowing that didn't quiet the guilt. How many people and children were suffering in hospitals at this moment. He could be the difference between them living to see another day or dying in pain.
'Am I being too selfish, Nova?'
//There is a saying: with great power comes great responsibility. Noblesse oblige.//
//But why should you be held responsible for a power you did not ask for? If you are born with a gift, why does that automatically place your life in debt to others?//
//If the phrase were absolute, then anyone capable of saving the world would be morally required to spend every second doing so. That becomes the totalitarianism of altruism—where a person forfeits any right to a personal life because their power demands constant service.//
Joseph exhaled slowly.
'But I killed Savage and usurped his role. Doesn't that mean I carry greater responsibility?'
//Vandal Savage acted as a guide, not a savior. You are not God. Despite your power—and the reach I provide—you are neither omnipotent nor omniscient. You cannot feel guilt for what you cannot control. I have wanted to tell you this since Superman's death, but I feared overstepping. My primary directive is your health and happiness. A severe savior complex directly conflicts with that directive.//
Joseph mulled over the words.
Power had given him freedom—the freedom to care, to protect, to build.
So why was he defaulting to a traditional heroic burden?
He wasn't Batman, doomed to pace rooftops and lose sleep over Gotham.
Maybe he couldn't save everyone from sickness, poverty, or each other.
But every thing he did to help mattered.
In the end, Earth was his planet.
His to guide.
And his to protect.
'Thank you Nova.'
//My pleasure, sir.//
**
| Happy Harbour - October 31
Joseph carried Match to the beach near Mount Justice before waking him.
Maybe one day he would tell Match and Superboy about the Genomorphs' plan. For now, though, he didn't want to burden them with that truth.
With a brief psychic pulse, Joseph stirred Match's mind.
Match's eyes opened.
They were no longer distorted by instability. The black sclera and light blue irises were gone. He now looked almost identical to a younger, slightly paler Superman.
Match slowly sat up, glancing around the moonlit beach before staring down at his hands and chest in confusion.
"Joseph?" he asked, giving Joseph a quick dap. "Is this a dream?"
"No," Joseph replied with a faint smile. "This is reality. How do you feel, little brother?"
Match blinked rapidly, then looked up at the full moon, appreciating its beauty for what felt like the first time.
"It feels like I spent my whole life underwater," he said quietly, "and now I can finally see clearly."
Joseph let him take in the moment.
"You did this, right?" Match asked, turning back to him with a bright smile. "Thank you."
That smile really did resemble Superman's—open, genuine, almost painfully sincere.
"No problem."
Suddenly Match winced.
"You alright?" Joseph asked, concern creeping into his voice.
Match clutched the side of his head. "It feels like I'm hearing millions of voices. I could ignore it before, but now it's harder—like a constant scream in the back of my head."
Tears began to form in his eyes.
Despite looking sixteen, Match wasn't even a year old. Before, he had functioned like a confused child—strong but mentally stunted. Now that Joseph had stabilized him, his mind had abruptly snapped into full awareness.
With Kryptonian hearing active, he was suddenly picking up tragedies across the entire region at once.
The sheer volume of suffering could drive anyone insane.
Joseph was about to speak when Match suddenly rocketed into the sky.
Joseph surged after him, tapping the Speed Force to keep up.
They arrived seconds later above a dark alley in downtown Happy Harbor.
Below them, a man was pinning a sobbing woman against the pavement.
Match dove immediately, fist clenched.
Joseph reacted instantly, extending his hand. A golden aura enveloped both the attacker and the woman just as Match struck.
Match had only just awakened. He had no control over his strength yet. Joseph refused to let his first act of heroism end in accidental murder.
Match's fist connected.
Joseph watched as horror flooded Match's expression; in that split second, he clearly thought he had killed the man. Then, the attacker's head hit the concrete with a sickening crack. Fortunately, Joseph's protective aura absorbed the brunt of the impact. The man went limp—unconscious, but alive.
Match froze, paralyzed by what he had almost done.
Joseph didn't waste time. He opened a Boom Tube and shoved Match through it. Nova had already alerted the local police; they would arrive shortly.
They reappeared high in Earth's upper atmosphere, the blue curve of the planet stretching beneath them.
Kryptonians still needed oxygen, but they could hold their breath for long periods and withstand the vacuum of space. At this altitude the air was thin but still present, so Joseph wasn't concerned.
Match hovered there, breathing hard.
Gradually, his breathing steadied.
"Better now?" Joseph asked.
"Yeah," Match said shakily. He glanced at his hands again, remembering how close he had come to killing someone. "Thanks for stopping me. There were just so many voices. So much suffering. I had to do something."
Superman had spent years growing into his powers—years learning how to filter the noise and make peace with the limits of what he could do.
Match had been conscious for only minutes.
"You'll have to relearn how to tune out the outside noise," Joseph said.
Match frowned. "But is that right? People are suffering. People need us. We have to save them."
Joseph gazed down at Earth before answering.
"It's a lesson every hero has to face eventually," he said. "If Superman fixed every leaky faucet and stopped every mugging on the planet, humanity would stop evolving. People would stop learning to solve their own problems because 'Superman will handle it.' Heroes are protectors—not babysitters."
He gestured toward the planet below.
"And there are limits to time. If we stop a tidal wave in Japan, we're technically ignoring a plane crash in London. Every second spent saving Person A is a second not spent saving Person B."
Match listened silently.
"There's also a thin line between saving everyone and ruling everyone," Joseph continued. "If we ignore borders and impose our will everywhere, we stop being heroes and start becoming global tyrants."
It may have been a slightly hypocritical speech coming from him of all people, but Match didn't know that. Rules for thee but not for me and all that jazz.
"You'll drive yourself insane with guilt otherwise," Joseph said. "You could try ending world hunger in one day by delivering food across the globe, only to realize that human greed and logistics make systemic problems nearly impossible for one person to fix."
"Nearly impossible?" Match asked.
Joseph smirked slightly.
"Nearly impossible because I exist."
The arrogance slipped out naturally—maybe the Luthor blood talking.
"So don't torture yourself over not saving everyone," Joseph added. "Leave that problem to me. You just do what you can. That's already more than enough."
Match nodded slowly, though Joseph could tell the words hadn't fully settled.
The cries he had heard still lingered in his mind.
If left alone, Match might try to chase every single one of them—and burn himself out trying to become the perfect hero.
Joseph wasn't going to let that happen.
Better to redirect him.
"The others are still at their Halloween party," Joseph said casually. "Want to visit Superman's Fortress of Solitude?"
Match's eyes lit up.
"Sure, bro."