Adventures of Superguy

The clone stands at attention, waiting for orders.

What is happening to me? The little voice inside asks.

After a brief survey, the older woman departs, the tiny creature staring at him over her shoulder the whole while. Before she disappears down a corridor, its little horns glow red, and suddenly it feels like all the gravity in the room is gone. 

He can breathe, and think for himself. The terrible weight of alien thoughts weighing him down and controlling his actions are suddenly gone. He has been a passenger in his own body, watching helplessly as it acted, feeling its actions and reactions but unable to decide his own course of action. The foreign anger that drove him departs like the receding tide, leaving fresh scoured sand in its wake.

What the fuck is going on?! He desperately thinks as his eyes dart around.

The remaining scientist enters the room and begins assessing the damage, speaking quietly to the G-Gnome on her shoulder, and its horns glow as well.

Genomorph Gnomes, telepathic assistants, sub-sapient intellect. The thought rises unbidden, telling him what the little creatures are and their role in Cadmus. 

What the fuck? How do I know that?

Again, the knowledge flows like a faucet opening and gushing forth, when no hand ever touched the taps. 

Subject Krypton required telepathic instruction in order to achieve useful levels of cognition during forced clone maturation process.

God, what is that? Is that the ‘telepathic instruction’?

He feels it must be; he thinks the question and suddenly the knowledge he never had before is there. There is no intermediate step of remembering, or recall of how he learned it. Its like a database that responds to queries, a psychic construct residing in his mind. He marvels at it, this mind palace that has been built within his psyche, and wonders what else it contains?

Images, snippets of language, densely packed dossiers on a myriad of topics. All clinically packaged and opening with the barest tug at their draw strings. He speaks German, Amazonian, and Atlantean! Every errant thought opens a new chamber in the mind palace, revealing the treasures within. The organization structure of the Church of Aphrodite, the history of the United Columbian States, a complete dossier on the Superwoman.

Superwoman? Not Superman?

Superwoman. The Woman of Steel. An alien from the planet Krypton. According to public statements and recorded private ones, she was sent on a spaceship to Terra as Krypton was dying. Exact age and date of arrival unknown; apparent age and sociological tells puts approximate age at 37 Terran years. Lists of known associates and groups she is a member of, most importantly the Justice Guild, of which she is a founding member.

What follows are images, recorded videos and telepathically transferred memories; Superwoman in combat, a tall, muscular white woman with short, slicked back hair and bright blue eyes. Her face is strong, noble, resolute and beautiful. She is always seen wearing a costume, but it changes over the timeline. The latest is a textured dark blue bodysuit, the iconic S shield on her chest, the angles of which are red going over her shoulder and neck, transitioning into the solid red cape which hangs to her ankles, the shield repeated in yellow gold on the back of it. The upper limits of her strength and durability are unknown but her demonstrated abilities are terrifying when he sees her in action. Lifting cargo ships, holding up buildings, literally outrunning bullets and enduring the attack of any conventional weapon without apparent harm.

Holy shit. I’m in a comic book.

This must be a delusion. A few last desperate neurons firing. He remembers the hospital, the bed, the hum and beep of the machines, his parents taking their argument out into the hall ‘so as not to disturb him’. He could have done with more disturbance. Laying around, waiting to die, had been an interminable bore. 

They weren’t there, when I…

He banishes the thought and the black cloud it brings. This is all too much, too fast, all at once. These people, the Genomorphs, the little G-Gnomes can put thoughts in his head! They already did! Made him attack-

“Superboy, take these three to the cloning chambers. The Board has uses for them, apparently.” Guardian says.

Guardian is security chief of this Cadmus station. She is to be obeyed in all matters of security and station integrity.

He mentally shuts the door on that chamber of the mind palace before he drowns in Guardian’s combat stats and service record in Cadmus. His real memories stir…

Guardian is here? And is a woman? I don’t remember a female Guardian.

SHe is staring at him, the G-Gnome on her shoulder staring blankly at him too, its seemingly empty eyes boring into him. What does it know?

Not the time. He isn’t under the G-Gnome’s compulsion anymore. Did the one on the departing scientist’s shoulder free him? He should think fast, as Guardian looks at him expectantly and the seconds tick by. His hackles rise; he is a prisoner here, stuffed into a cage. They’re controlling him telepathically, programming him like a machine. They made him fight…

ROBIN! That girl is a Robin! And runner is a Flash, Kid Flash I think. The swimmer looks like she’s Atlantean. The lines on her neck are gills. Why are they all girls? Did I get rescued by the Teen Titans?

He turns his head to look at the unconscious bodies, and guilt washes over him. No, they tried to rescue him. And he beat the stuffing out of them. But Guardian wants him to take them off to get cloned. 

Better to play along for now. But I have to get out of here before the G-Gnomes catch on. They can read minds, they’ll figure out I’m not what they think I am before long.

He nods hastily to Guardian and turns on his heel to collect the three heroines. They weigh nothing in his arms, he only knows they’re there by touch. One over each shoulder and Robin under an arm. As soon as he thinks of the cloning chamber, the mind palace opens another chamber and he sees the route. He knows the lay out of this place; deep underground, dozens of floors, filled with labs, testing chambers, storage rooms and a catalog of others. He doesn’t know everything; there are chambers he has no knowledge of, whole floors are excised from this navigational aid download. Secrets they didn’t trust him with…

As he marches along, he begins to plan.

I have to get out of here, away from this place. What I remember of Cadmus is they’re bad news. Cloning, gene-engineering, trying to make meta-humans to work for them, or the government. But all of this… this seems beyond anything in the comics. The Genomorphs; they’re a whole new superpowered species! They’re not in the comics.

He looks at the shapely Atlantean rump over his shoulder. She still smells like salt spray and ozone, like the ocean during a storm. She isn’t in the comics, either. Aquaman and Aqualad, he recalls. She isn’t Mera, the Queen of Atlantis, either. 

Who is she supposed to be? For that matter, who is the Kid Flash and which Robin is this? The only female Robin was Stephanie Brown, but she’s blonde. Unless this is a dye job; Batman made Jason Todd dye his hair…

Useless. A lifetime, however short, devouring comics and cartoons and movies, and now he’s IN one, and everything is wrong somehow.

Holy shit. I have powers! I flattened the Teen Titans!

The guilt returns like the tide, drowning his elation. He hopes he didn’t hurt them too badly. Wincing, he recalls trying to crush Robin under his boot. There had been no hesitation under the G-Gnome’s enraged impetus. He might have killed them if they weren’t tough enough, or the programming hadn’t prioritized capture. Shuddering at the thought of what he might have done, he glances down at his chest, and sees the symbol printed on the bright white, almost glowing bodysuit he’s wearing.

The Shield. The symbol of the House of El…

Project: Superboy.

Production of Weapon Krypton began 16 weeks ago, forced grown clone of Superwoman with human DNA grafted on to fill gaps, achieved successful gestation and decanted. Effective biological age: 18 years. Intense yellow sun radiation exposure to accelerate development and power levels. Equipped with a solar suit to gather and dispense yellow sun energy to Weapon Krypton at a constant level. 

Numbers, images and graphs fly through his mind’s eye, simulations and expected results of the cloning process. DNA sequences showing the incomplete Kryptonian genome patched with human DNA from a donor. Not as powerful as Superwoman or a full Kryptonian, but capable of fantastic growth potential. Caps on final power levels should exceed a full Kryptonian as the hybrid body processes yellow sun energy more efficiently. Corners were cut in his creation; to force grow him to his current biological age, he didn’t have the time to absorb more yellow sun energy. The solar suit helps but only time and exposure will do the job, over  years. 

Woah. I’ll be stronger than Superman one day? Or Superwoman, I guess. Why are they all women?

Musings are interrupted by the arrival at the cloning chamber. The gleaming doors open automatically and his eyes scan the room. Cameras outside, but none within. The layout information downloaded into his brain doesn’t include security features.

Of course not. I’m one of the weapons they need the security for.

There are more pods here, like the tube he was in, but these are fitted with advanced restraints. The heroines are still unconscious, and he doesn’t see the point in dawdling around with them waiting to see if they wake up. Someone might come by and get suspicious if they aren’t in the pods. Glancing down at Robin’s utility belt, and bulky gauntlets, he smiles and begins placing them in the pods. Soon they are arrayed before him, a strange reverse of how they just met; now they are in the pods and he is free. Worry gnaws at him.

They should be alright. They’re professionals, probably escaped cells and pods like this all the time. 

They do seem a bit older than he expected. The Teen Titans are, usually, teens. These three look late teens at the youngest. The Atlantean looks older, but that might be her different physiology. He mentally waves away the mind palace’s offer of an in-depth breakdown of the differences in Atlantean and human physiology. 

That’s gonna get annoying. Scratch that, it already has. But useful… and I speak Amazonian now! Cool! Θαυμαστόν τοῦτο!

GIddy excitement fills him, and he feels lighter and stronger than he has in years. He can see himself in the glass of their pods, and the sight throws him. He doesn’t recognize this face; dark haired, square jawed, bright blue eyes. His eyes were hazel; had been, hazel… but he was never this tall, broad and strong! He must be six foot, at least, and his body is well muscled. Not a power lifter or body builder, but muscle packed on every square inch of his frame. The skintight white solar suit shows him off to his best effect; he hopes its stain repellant. White is such a hassle to keep clean.

There is a featherlight touch across his mind. He feels it this time, unlike the direct insertions by the G-Gnomes. Like whatever is reaching out to him wants him to know its there. He feels no anger this time, but instinctually he recoils at the telepathic contact.

Who’s there?! His mind cries out.

No answer comes, and the feathering touch departs. At the same moment, all three young heroines jerk awake in their pods. His eyes narrow suspiciously; his telepathic caller is chatting with others. They struggle at their bonds as they awaken, instinctually trying to free themselves. The Atlantean’s groan slightly, but they hold. 

Maybe its better this way. We kind of got off on the wrong foot back there…

“What? What-what do you want?” Kid Flash barks out at him. Her voice is higher than he expects, and anger burns in her eyes. He doesn’t blame her; he’d be mad, too. Her follow up is too quick to let him answer.

“Quit staring.  You’re creeping me out.” She demands, voice low with threat that doesn’t seem appropriate for someone in a cage.

“Uh, KQ? How about we not tick off the guy who can fry us with a look?”

He winces, shaking his head. The three in the pods are taken aback by his reaction.

“I wouldn’t do that. I can’t.” He replies.

“He can talk?” Kid Flash asks, tactlessly. Even her friends look askance at her.

“What? Not like I called him an ‘it’.” She mutters, guiltily.

“How considerate. Look, I’m sorry about before. I didn’t want to hurt you, they made me.”

Kid Flash gawps at that, Robin looks thoughtful, the Atlantean… Aqualass? He’ll go with Aqualass, she looks hopeful.

“You were not in full control of your actions, were you?” She asks.

He shakes his head.

“No, the Genomorph Gnomes, the little guys, they’re telepathic. They made me attack you. I couldn’t think for myself at all. Just knew you were intruders, that I had to deal with you. I’m sorry.” He apologizes, but it feels inadequate when he remembers the rage and the feel of his fists pounding Aqualass’ head into the decking. He’s never delivered that kind of violence before, or any, really.

“Who are you? You have Superwoman’s shield, and you are very strong.”

He fumbles for the words. There’s too much running in his head; details of Project Superboy spill out from the mind palace. His memories of Boston, his family, the hospital. And his comics! There’s so much he could say! But no time to get it all out. So, he summarizes.

“They called me Weapon Krypton, the product of Project Superboy. They grew this body from DNA samples from Superm-woman. A… replacement for… her, should she die.”

They gasp, understanding the implications. He stumbles over the pronouns; why is it a Superwoman? These three are all girls too; is every hero a woman here? There’s so many canons and continuities, crises and reboots and Elseworlds. If he’s arrived in one of those, then how useful is his knowledge. He might be entirely wrong about these heroines’ identities, secret and otherwise.

“More like samples stolen from Superwoman. No way Big Blue knows about this!” Kid Flash pipes up indignantly. 

She’s probably right. Why would any Super-person want people like Cadmus cloning them? And I’m supposed to be a weapon. Everything about this place stinks.

“Look, we need to get out of here. They had me bring you here to clone you. And I don’t think they plan on just letting you go after that.” He interjects, trying to get them on task. This is no time for Twenty Questions.

They share a look of surprise, and consider his words. He’s disappointed; they don’t trust him. But of course not, he’s the one who imprisoned them. 

“We can help you get out of here.” Robin answers, after a silent confab with her friends.

“We could even introduce you to Superwoman.” Aqualass continues, smiling.

Holy shit. Superwoman. Man. Whoever. Now that would be an autograph to get!What?! Focus! We’re in the clutches of the bad guys here in their underground base! Fanboy out for meeting a fem Superman later! He angrily recriminates himself. 

“No, they can’t.” Says a snide voice from the doorway. He turns, and the scientists from his pod room are there with Guardian, each with a G-Gnome perched on their shoulders. Teeth gritted, he realizes he was distracted by the interrogation turned conversation. Should have been listening for anyone to interrupt, but focusing on different sounds is difficult.

“They’ll be otherwise occupied. Activate the cloning process.” She says dismissively, waving her subordinate towards a console.

“Pass! Bat-cave’s already crowded enough.” Robin snarks, still in good humor despite her dire situation.

“And get the weapon back in its pod!” And Guardian hops to it as she barks the order, anger and loathing in her eyes now as she stares him down. 

She wasn’t mad earlier…  he thinks. 

“Hey, how come she gets to call Supey an ‘it’?” Kid Flash asks indignantly.

Ugh, Supey? That’s worse than ‘it’, somehow.

But Guardian marches up to him and puts a meaty hand on his shoulder; she’s as tall as he is, and built like a linebacker, the armor making her even broader. Her grip tenses as she tries to pull him towards the door, but he doesn’t budge. The mind palace service jacket for Guardian mentions that while a superbly trained and experienced fighter, she is only human. And he is the Superboy. She may as well try to move a mountain. Her eyes narrow and she snarls at his defiance as she cannot move him. He shrugs off her grip and meets her gaze.

“Tsk, don’t start thinking now!” The older scientist says, brushing past and as she does, the G-Gnome on her shoulder scampers up to his. He tenses, waiting for the sudden intrusion like before, an implacable gravity he can’t escape. But nothing comes, and he glances at the G-Gnome, bewildered. Its horns aren’t glowing, and it cocks its head at him curiously. The lead scientist circles him, standing between him and the pods of the three heroines.

Aqualass looks at him plaintively.

“Help us.” She implores, simply.

Ignoring her and everything else, the mouthy scientist continues her rant.

“See, you’re not a real boy. You’re a weapon, and you belong to me, Dr. Marcia Desmond!” She exclaims, in what she probably thinks is an authoritative and intimidating tone. At least she knows her own name, and now so does he; he even knows the spelling as he reads it off her ID badge.

Both he and Guardian simply look at her, and after a moment she falters and qualifies.

“Well, to Cadmus. Same thing!” She insists as she looks askance.

“Now get back to your pod!” She barks with finality.

“No.”

Both the scientists and Guardian whirl on him. The heroines behind them look up with interest.

“What did you say?! I told you to get back in your pod!” Dr. Desmond snaps as she gets in his face, and glances at the G-Gnome on his shoulder, her face falling in confusion as she does so. He follows her gaze to the little creature. He keeps forgetting its there.

It looks back at him, not so blank-eyed now, and it raises a tiny hand to lay on his cheek. No psychic attack or instruction comes.

Are you on my side, little guy? He asks mentally, hoping it understands.

It cocks its head at him, and he swears he sees it make a little grin.

His grin is wide and confident as he turns to Dr. Desmond, and it turns a little mean as he does so. Her eyes remain locked on the G-Gnome, who ignores her, even as her befuddlement turns back to anger. She slowly turns her gaze to meet his, and swallows audibly.

“I don’t take orders from you. Not anymore.” He says, darkly. Guardian’s hand clamps down on his shoulder again, but lightning quick he seizes her wrist hard enough to make her grunt, and swings her like a sack of potatoes into Desmond and her underling. He releases Guardian and all three go crashing into the corner in a pile.

That felt… good. Way better than fighting the girl TItans over here.

He smiles, pleased as punch to see the arrogant Dr. Desmond struggling to rise, groaning. Then he turns back to the three heroines, surprised to see only two.

“Ahh, finally! Nobody tell Batwoman, she’d have my head for taking that long.” Comes a now familiar voice at his elbow. He looks down to see Robin, rubbing her wrists where the restraints had gripped her, and returning a multitool to one of her innumerable pouches. He smirks at her, and she smiles back at him. She’s a head shorter than him, but her cunning smile is very cute. Glancing back at her pod, he sees its still closed, but now empty with the restraints dangling. He looks back at her, impressed but feeling slightly defensive for some reason.

“Well, it helps that I left you your utility belt.” He ripostes. 

She screws her face up.

“Oh, please, bad guys forget about that all the time! Plus, I’ve got lockpicks in places you don’t wanna know about!” She laughs as she says it.

His eyebrows shoot up at her crude joke. 

That’s… a different kind of joke from Robin. Especially a GIRL Robin.

“Ok, yeah, great Rob, no one wants to hear all about where you keep your wonderful toys. Forget Batwoman, the whole Guild is gonna want our heads after tonight!” Kid Flash interjects.

The Guild?

Robin tsks, and leans over the console and presses something that opens the other pods. 

“Free Aqualass. I’ll get Kid Quick.” She orders.

Man, she’s bossy. Hey, I got that one! Wait, Kid Quick? He thinks, glancing at the speedster as he reaches up to Aqualass’ restraints and easily tears them loose. 

She sighs with relief, and looks at him. They are of a height, and she smiles as their eyes meet. Her storm grey iris looks alive with roiling clouds now that she’s free. 

“Thank you.” She says warmly, and he meets her smile with his own. Meanwhile his mind tries to process everything.

Kid Quick, like Jesse Quick? A junior Jesse Quick sidekick? That’s interesting, and different. I feel like I’ve come into a movie halfway through and I’m trying to recognize characters from the trailer.

“Time to go!” Robin shouts, and as one they race for the door. 

For a moment, he sees another figure rising to its knees next to the prone Guardian; the slender blue Genomorph, a G-Goblin, that was with Dr. Desmond down in his room. He hadn’t noticed him before.

How did I miss him?

“You’ll never get out of here!” Dr. Desmond shouts as she struggles up to her feet. “I’ll have you all back in pods before morning!”

“Dang, that gal is not whelmed, not whelmed at all.” Robin mutters to herself as she turns back to the cloning chamber. She reaches to her utility belt and fills her hand with some circular throwing weapon and fans them across the room. Each pod gets a bladed disk embedded in its surface, which beep alarmingly for a moment before they explode, shattering the pods and hurling smoke and debris through the room. She waves the four of them towards the door, and together they flee in the smoke and confusion.

“What is it with you and this whelmed thing?” Kid Quick asks as they run.

As they sprint down the corridor, his heart leaps with excitement. 

Holy shit, I’m teaming up with Robin, Kid Quick and Aqualass!

His elation falls as his super hearing, still trained on the cloning chamber, hears Dr. Desmond over the crackle of flame and clatter of falling rubble.

“Activate every Genomorph in Cadmus.” She orders tersely.

The mind palace unspools reams of information on the Genomorphs; their six types, abilities, combat stats, purposes, numbers. None of it is reassuring. As the strange blue growths in the red stone walls begin to glow with a familiar red light, he arrives at the most pertinent fact.

The growths are Genomorph chrysalis’. Thousands of them.

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