Chapter Text
It was a quiet dawn down in Kansas.
‘Course, it was a less quiet morning in Metropolis, from what Kon could tell with his superhearing.
A car alarm going off three blocks away. Somebody yelling for a cab. A dog barking for no apparent reason.
Typical Metropolis. Cities never sleep, as they say.
But down here?
Smallville remained as quiet and peaceful as always.
Kon grunted and squinted at his alarm clock. 4:52 in the morning, the thing read.
He let himself just lie there for a second.
These last few weeks, he’d really started pouring his all out into the world.
He pressed his face into his pillow, a slow, proud smile breaking out across his face, thankful for another morning.
Kon was in his bedroom at the Kents' house, the one in the attic.
A room covered in posters, clothes on the floor, Half-finished DIY projects scattered across his desk, old records, comics, pictures of YJ hanging crookedly on the wall, and other assorted crap he'd accumulated over the years.
It was cluttered, messy, and badly needed cleaning, but it was his.
A bedroom that actually felt like his own, normal teenage boy space rather than the perfect, sterile, and lifeless penthouse apartments Lex had gotten for him.
He rolled out of bed and fell into his newly established morning routine. Fresh out of the shower, he towel-dried his hair, carefully pulled on an outline of dark eyeliner underneath his eyes, and slipped into the Superboy suit.
He caught his reflection in the mirror and tilted his head.
Tim would probably make some stupid comment about the eyeliner.
Kon smiled despite himself, exhaling a pleased sigh through his nose.
Actually, no. Tim would probably pretend not to notice it for five minutes before casually mentioning that it looked good.
He shoved his earbuds in, tapped his phone to connect it to Bluetooth, and put on one of his playlists as he got dressed for morning patrol.
He slid on his fingerless leather gloves, strapped pouches around his waist and thigh, and he even decided to put on some earrings for the day.
Finally, Kon grabbed his favorite worn leather jacket off his desk chair, smiling warmly down at it.
He slipped it over his shoulders, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against the hem beneath the oversized collar.
Underneath the big collar flaps was where he had just recently stitched on the newest, shiniest, patch on his jacket:
A small flag of pink, blue, and purple.
Kara had gotten him the patch a few days after he came out to her, and he loved the little thing enough to have it on his jacket. Right over his heart.
He wondered what Tim would think of it..
…
Anyway!
Ever since that day, he’d decided to stop hiding behind what people wanted him to be. That he’d be more indulgent in his interests and hobbies.
He picked up the electric guitar after guilting Lex into getting one for him, though he still sucked at playing.
He tried baking with Ma.. and if it weren't for her supervision, he would've burned down the kitchen. Welp, at least the pie still turned out great. Martha Kent could never bake a horrible pie.
He'd even tried his hand at some DIY fashion shit he'd seen some Goth kids do online, …which was harder than it looked when you could accidentally bend pliers with super-strength.
Look, okay, yeah, he was still figuring things out.
But despite finding out all these new things about himself, he still felt like something was missing. That he needed to do something that made him feel like truly himself again.
Not Conner Luthor, not Superman's clone, not Jon's predecessor, and certainly not whatever the hell everyone else expected Superboy to be,
Just him.
And he had the feeling that heroism was just the thing!
Kon bolted down the stairs, ready to rush out the doorway and right into the skyline.
He barely made it halfway down before he caught the unmistakable mouthwatering smell of sizzling butter drifting through the house.
His nose twitched.
…
Well, I mean..
… A little detour from the morning schedule didn't mean the world would implode, right..?
Kon followed the scent through the house like some kind of cartoon character being magically pulled toward a freshly baked pie.
He wasn't disappointed with what he found.
Nor was he surprised.
Jonathan was in the kitchen, unashamedly wearing Ma Kent’s usual baking apron, the one with bees and flowers on it, and was flipping pancakes.
Martha stood by the windowsill, tending to the flowers with a small indoor watering can. The early morning sunlight spilled through the window behind her, catching the edges of her silvering hair and bathing the kitchen in a soft golden glow.
Kon pulled one earbud out and smiled warmly at the couple, dropping into one of the kitchen stool seats.
“Mornin’.”
Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at him, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, pleasantly surprised. He turned off the stove and carefully added the freshly cooked pancake to the growing plated pile.
“Mornin’, Conner.”
He said, affectionately gruff as he got a plate and set the table for Kon.
Martha perked up at her husband's voice and turned toward Kon with a warm smile. She set down her watering can and made her way over to peck Kon on the cheek.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Martha said softly, giving Kon’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before fixing his collar in a way that reminded him the way Tim did the same at the gala.
“Hey, Ma.” Kon chuckled and playfully wiped off where she’d kissed him.
Pa set a plate stacked with three buttered, syrup-drenched pancakes right in front of him and Kon’s eyes immediately lit up.
The action of giving him pancakes was a supposed planned distraction as Jonathan leaned in to brush a loose curl from Martha’s face before kissing her softly on the lips.
They were always synchronized like that, moving around the kitchen like a well-rehearsed dance. One would reach for something just as the other finished with it, neither of them needing to say a word.
Kon admired that kind of dynamic, it was so gosh darn sweet.
… But also at the same time..
He made a gagging face behind their back and protested through a mouthful of food.
Martha gasped and swatted playfully as Jonathan tucked the other strand of hair behind her ear, and Jonathan went back to making more pancakes.
Her eyes eventually drifted over to Kon, who had already started cutting a slice of pancake out.
“Going on patrol already?”
Martha asked, clearing her throat and leaning against the counter, watching Kon practically inhale his first pancake. She seemed.. concerned? Surprised, maybe?
“Yuerp,” Kon mumbled around a forkful of pancakes.
Jonathan raised a warm, skeptical eyebrow, sliding onto the stool next to him.
“Kid, the sun isn't even fully up. It's still barely five in the morning. Take a breather. The world can survive another hour without Superboy.”
Martha nodded approvingly as she set the table with more pancakes.
“Yeah, sugar, listen to your Pa. Besides, you need your energy,” she added, smiling as she swatted Jonathan’s hand away from stealing a bite off Kon’s plate, turning to the stove to start brewing. “And don't eat so fast, Conner, you'll get a cramp mid-flight!” She scolded as she looked over her shoulder.
Kon laughed, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could already imagine Tim giving him that same look.
The one that would adorably berate him with the ‘You're going to get yourself into trouble!!’
Kon grinned into his pancakes.
“What?” Martha asked at the silence.
“Nothing.”
Rao, He really needed to stop thinking about Robin.
Pa huffed amusedly and Kon cleared his throat, taking Ma’s advice and slowing down for approximately three seconds.
…Before immediately shoveling another bite into his mouth.
“Y’know.. ‘heze.. are surprisinghngy goohd, Pa!” Kon grinned, pointing at the stack with his fork.
Jonathan chuckled, wiping his hands on the bee-covered apron as he took it off and put it away. “Not as good as yer Ma’s but I'll take the compliments where I can get ‘em.”
“Oh, hush, you!” Martha laughed, nudging her husband affectionately as she set down a cup of coffee for Jonathan and took a seat across from Kon and beside her husband.
She smiled at Kon.
Her eyes held that soft, fiercely protective warmth that always made his chest feel tight. It was the kind of look that made him feel like he was still just her kid sitting at the kitchen table instead of a superhero who was about to fly off and throw himself into whatever disaster was waiting for him.
“Be careful out there, sweetheart. You wash up whenever you’re ready, alright?”
Kon swallowed his food, looking between the two of them, the bright morning light filling the kitchen.
He let himself sit there for just a moment.
Gathered around the breakfast table, the smell of pancakes in the air. Ma fussing over him, Pa pretending not to fuss over him.
It was nice.
Kon liked this feeling, Family.
A part of him wanted to stay right there.
…But another part, the part that had been itching to get into the sky since he'd woken up, was already pulling him toward the door.
“Well now,”
Kon floated over to Martha and returned the peck on the cheek, trying to be reassuring.
“Don't you go worrying your pretty little head off Ma, I'll be just fine.”
And just like that, that signature, effortless grin returned to his face.
Superboy had places to be.
…
“BYE MA, BYE PA!” Kon waved, now a good few feet away from the front door and in the air.
“Bye, Conner! Love ya!” Martha yelled, waving back.
“Love you too!” Kon yelled back.
“Be careful out there, son!” Jonathan called.
Kon-El flew out of the Kents' cozy farmhouse, winked and waved his farewells to the Super-Grandparents who watched him from the porch before turning toward the horizon and starting his breezy commute to Metropolis.
After getting to around cloud level, Kon stretched out in midair and floated onto his back. He pulled out his phone, popped his earphones back in, and cranked the volume all the way up.
Kon let the wind carry him for a few seconds until his phone buzzed in his pocket. For half a second his heart jumped before he remembered he couldn't have actually gotten a message. Tim probably had just fallen asleep considering his messed up work schedule.
He checked anyway.
Nothing but another stupid PSA from the JL. Kon huffed and swiped it away from his notification dock.
“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, blushing and slipping the phone away in a secure pocket. “You're pathetic, Kent.”
Still, he wondered if Tim would have gotten enough rest..
The drums and bass thrummed directly into his skull as he cut through the orange sunrise, the heavy guitar riff of the high energy punk song he'd chosen blaring through his headphones.
Down below, Metropolis was already full of life. Buses were filling the streets, traffic already starting to form in the intersections, and people were rushing toward work with coffee cups in their hands.
Kon dove right into the deep end with a wide, cocky grin, flying freely through the skyscrapers, feeling the wind in his hair and his blood pumping.
Now this was his element.
As his morning hype playlist queued, he started doing his regular rounds, and by 8:00, he was really going at it, bad puns, witty banter, and everything.
Who says superheroing can't be super casual?
In just around three hours he'd already saved a bunch of people!
He'd helped an old lady cross the street, saved a cat from a tree, did some errands from the grocery store to nice lady Margret, AND, had gotten free food from catching a runaway food truck.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could practically hear Tim reminding him that he didn't need to make every rescue look like a performance.
Kon couldn't help smiling.
And for a while, everything felt exactly the way he wanted it to.
He flew through the city, saved people, joked with strangers, and enjoyed the familiar rush of knowing that he could actually make someone's day a little better just by showing up.
He was The Superboy.
And boy, did it feel good.
Eventually, however, Metropolis began to quiet down and it turned out to be one of those rare, quiet days in Metropolis.
After a whole hour of no crime, Kon slowed to a stop above the city and looked around, hands on his hips.
“Oh, c'mon.. Really?” He mumbled to himself.
There were no fires, no robberies, no car crashes, and no criminals or supervillains causing trouble. Even his usual emergency channels seemed strangely quiet.
Which, sure! while Kon would've enjoyed that kind of peace on a day in which he wasn't feeling super hyperactive..
He just wanted to blow off steam and be productive for once!
Is that too much for a guy to ask for?
Floating up towards a higher sky level, Kon expanded his superhearing, allowing the sounds of the city to spread out around him.
He could hear traffic several blocks away, people talking inside apartments, construction workers beginning their shifts, a dog barking somewhere in the distance, and someone loudly complaining about their coffee order.
Nothing needed him.
“C'mon, Metropolis. Give me something.”
Unfortunately, the city still threw nothing in his face.
Kon frowned.
Eventually, he gave up on waiting for the city to provide him with an excuse.
Except maybe..
Just maybe he could find something himself!
Determinedly, the Super flew toward the docks.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much happening there either, but he did end up helping a group of fishermen pull their boat safely back towards the shore.
He helped workers clear debris from a blocked road, too.
And he rescued a couple of stranded hikers.
Yada, Yada, Yada, BOOORING!
None of it was particularly difficult, none of it lasted very long, and most of all, NONE of it was actual crime stopping.
While, yeah, Kon's not a newbie, he knows to expect stuff like this sometimes on patrol.
And he knows he'd probably get an earful from Clark about how Super-heroing is more about helping people rather than saving them,
But he was literally synthesized to punch the lights out of powerful Aliens and Robots, and he really, really wants to get his hands on something right now,
So really, really bad timing, Universe.
By the time Kon realized how far he had flown to find something to do and someone to help, Metropolis was nowhere in sight and the unfamiliar skyline below him finally registered.
He was flying over goddamn New Jersey.
Huh.
Wait a minute..
He should probably head home.
Or call someone.
Maybe Tim.
That thought lingered.
But then his stupid lab-grown mind immediately supplied him with a bunch of studies about how New Jersey’s crime rates are historically and statistically, one of the highest growing and worst in the whole country.
Huh…
Now, Listen, Kon wasn't stupid.
..Okay, maybe he was a little bit stupid.
The fact that he was bored, pent up and had nothing else better to do was not at all helping.
But besides that, he wasn't even in Gotham! He was in Blüdhaven, which was a completely different city, and surely Nightwing would be a little more reasonable than Batman if he happened to notice Kon doing some unofficial patrol work in his part of town, right..?
The icing on the excuse cake that Kon was cooking up manifested as he heard a frightened voice coming from an alley below.
“Please! No!! J— just leave me alone!”
Welp!
There it was. Just what he was lookin’ for.
Kon immediately dropped toward the sound, concern crawling up into his spine.
The atmosphere in the alley felt.. strangely off. Even more so than usual for Jersey. It didn't just smell like Blüdhaven trash or river fog.
…It smelled like copper and.. sweet cinnamon?
His mind once again supplied him with useful but mildly daunting info that Blüdhaven could be even worse than Gotham in some areas.
He touched down and landed at the edge of the alley and saw a young blonde boy pressed against the brick wall, clutching his yellow Signal backpack tightly against his chest.
Three men stood between him and the exit, all three wearing bizarre clown makeup and laughing amongst themselves.
Kon's expression soured. Clowns and dark street corners in New Jersey never end well.
“Hey, Tweerps!”
Superboy put on his cheekiest, unfazed façade and put himself between them and the poor kid, folding his arms across his chest and startling the three goons.
“Three grown men cornering a nine-year-old in a back alley?" Kon teased through bared teeth, cracking his knuckles. "Pretty pathetic, guys."
The clowns laughed and the one in the middle stepped forward, apparently deciding he was the ringleader. His voice came out strangely gravelly, carrying an odd, airy timber that made it sound almost like his words were being spoken through mist.
“You should mind your own business, Superboy.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, this is kind of my business.” Kon scoffed and shifted slightly, making sure his body completely blocked the boy from view.
He tilted his head toward the boy over his shoulder.
“Hey, buddy. Listen, okay? Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna run home or get somewhere far away and safe, and I'm gonna come find you after I beat these guys up, 'Kay?”
The boy stared at him for a second before nodding frantically, clutching his backpack to his chest.
Kon smiled at him, reassuring and bright. “That's my guy. Go.”
The boy scrambled past him and vanished behind a shabby building wall.
Kon waited until he heard the hurried footsteps disappearing down the alley before turning back toward the three men.
“Okay,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Now where were we?”
The men exchanged glances with one another before one of them expectedly charged towards the boy.
Kon sighed nonchalantly, stepping in to catch his body and block the path so the kid could get away.
Kon barely had time to register the movement before the man swung at him.
He caught the punch easily, fingers closing around the man's wrist.
…When the clown’s arm suddenly just.. vaporized.
Kon's grip tightened around empty air. The clown's arm had passed straight through his fingers.
His smile disappeared and he watched in disbelief, shocked as the clown flickered.
For half a second, the man's face blurred or... glitched as if he were a dream, the colors smearing together and then.. disappeared right in front of his eyes like there was nothing ever there at all.
Kon furrowed his brows and looked at his hands, the same one that once had held the man's tangible fist.
“What the hell?” He slowly lowered his hand.
The other two clowns suddenly rushed toward him and Kon reacted on instinct.
He swung at the second one, only for his fist to pass straight through the man's chest and then for him to disappear as fast as the first clown.
Kon tried to catch the third with his TTK, but the familiar, usually effortless invisible pressure that usually answered him before he consciously thought about it, wrapping around whatever he wanted and moving it exactly where he wanted it to go felt strangely… distant, like trying to grab something through a wall.
It felt like reaching for something that should have been right there, only to find an empty space where it was supposed to be.
The third clown also flickered, and soon enough all the illusions had disappeared in front of him.
What in the name of Fuckin’ Rao?
“Okay...” Kon breathed heavily, trying to cut through the stench and lack of oxygen of the alleyway. “That's new.”
He took a cautious step forward and looked around, body still tense and active from an almost battle.
He needed to fly, to look around, but for some reason his powers seemed to not be responding to him.
He tried to hover off the ground, just an inch, just to prove he could. Only for his boots to stay firmly glued to the damp, dirty pavement. He felt heavy. Impossibly heavy. Like the weight of the world had just crashed on him.
The sudden loss of control sent a sharp spike of terror straight into his chest.
His heart was racing now, pounding so hard against his ribs that it rattled his teeth. Why is it beating so fast? Am I dying? What's wrong with me?
Shit.
Okay. Chill. What would Robin do?
..Take deep breaths. Be reasonable. Think. Assess the situation or some bullshit.
They’d gotten away somehow.
Maybe someone had teleported them.
Maybe this was some weird hologram thing. Maybe—
A sharp pulse suddenly pulsed behind his eyes.
“AGHH—”
Kon staggered.
His vision blurred for a moment, the dark brick walls stretching strangely at the edges of his sight before snapping violently back into place.
His vision kept swimming in and out of focus.
Kon swallowed hard.
“Okay,” he whispered, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was talking to anymore. “Okay. You're fine.”
The buzzing grew louder.
He pressed both hands against the sides of his head.
His superhearing was picking up everything around him at once, and the alley suddenly felt impossibly loud. Cars several streets away. Someone shouting from an apartment. A siren in the distance. The buzz of electricity running through the walls.
He blinked hard, the dizziness nauseating.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Damnit.
“Come on…”
Another pulse, this one stronger
His stomach twisted.
He forced himself upright anyway.
Get it together.
Kon pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and took slow breaths, trying to get himself steady.
He pressed a hand against the brick wall.
Come on…
Kon took a slow, deep breath to steady himself, but his lungs felt strangely tight. The air didn't seem to satisfy him. He took another faster, shallower one.
“You're fine.”
“You're fine.” He tried.
Another fucking pulse.
Fuck.
This pain.. It felt.. nothing like he'd ever felt before.
It wasn't Kryponite, it wasn't mind control or magic or alien technology.
It felt.. almost stimulated, like it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
It felt.. as though his power was leaving his body, somehow..
It felt like his own body was turning against him.
His tactile telekinesis flickered again. Off, on, then completely dead.
His heartbeat suddenly seemed much too loud, pounding against his ribs as though he'd just finished flying across the city at full speed. His fingers tingled. His chest felt tight.
It all felt wrong.
His pain narrowed into a strange frequency, the vibration in his head urging and almost taunting him to open his eyes.
Lex stood across from him.
His father was dressed in a pristine laboratory gown, his hands folded neatly behind his back, staring down disgustedly at Kon. A small piece of green kryptonite rested between his fingers, glowing faintly against the sterile white of the lab around them.
What the fuck.
No, No this can't be happening.
How could this be happening?!
“Experiment Thirteen.” Lex said, his tone slow, calculated and venomous.
Kon's throat tightened, his eyes widened and his whole being shook.
No, No, No, No, Not this, Anything but this.
“No..” He took a step back, breath involuntarily hitching as he accidentally spilled his thoughts aloud.
He thought they'd moved past this.
He’d thought..
“You were never what I wanted you to be.” The scientist mirrored him, taking a step forward, voice dripping in a mocking affectionate scold.
“Lex, We talked—” Kon covered his ears, the ringing behind it buzzing into a sharp pain. He kneeled to the floor and panted as he looked blearily at the green glow in Lex's hands. What was going on?!
“You were the closest clone to the baseline,” Lex continued, his tone slowly rising to anger as though Kon hadn't spoken. “And yet you still weren't enough.”
Kon frantically shook his head, the buzzing in the back of his brain still constant.
This is not real.
Lex looked at him coldly, almost mocking and pleased that his plan had worked. “You were foolish to think of me as anything more than your creator.”
Kon's breathing quickened.
“No.”
“You were never my son. You'll never be anyone's son.”
“Stop.”
“You are a clone, Thirteen. That is all that you will ever be.”
“Stop!”
The word tore out of him, raw in his throat.
The ground beneath his feet fractured from the force of his powers suddenly surging and collapsing at the same time.
Kon stumbled backward, clutching at his chest as his breath came in uneven, frantic gasps. Heavy breathing racked his lungs as he tried to get air. To breathe.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The buzzing in his skull had become deafening.
His hands were shaking.
His powers had failed on him.
He couldn't tell what was real anymore.
Then, the foul stench of the alley shifted, turning sickeningly sweet—like fresh flowers or cut grass.
Kon forced his eyes open, his vision blurry and swimming.
Clark was standing in front of him.
Kon's heart sank.
“No.”
Clark looked at him with an expression Kon had seen a thousand times in his nightmares, even if he'd never actually seen it on the man's face.
Disappointment.
“You're dangerous, Superboy.”
Superman looked down at Kon like he was something broken that couldn't be fixed.
Kon shook his head, desperate and pleading. “Fuck, Clark, You don't mean that—”
“I don't know if I can trust you.” Clark said softly, his voice cutting through the deafening ringing in Kon’s head.
“That's not—!!”
“You know you'll never be Superman.”
Kon's chest tightened.
“Clark, stop.”
“And you'll never be a better Superboy than Jon.”
His breath hitched and something broke in his chest.
A sob tore through Kon's throat, harsh and raw.
He couldn't use his powers. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even fly.
Clark's face remained painfully calm, as if he didn't say those words with boiling venom. His expression was almost worse for how familiar it looked. There was no anger there. No shouting. Not even disappointment anymore. Nothing Kon could argue with or fight against.
Just. fucking. certainty.
Kon backed away from him, shaking his head as
“No, no, no. That's not what you said. You don't—”
He thought he saw a flash of red and black in the corner of his eye before a sudden, icy prick plunged into the side of his neck.
Kon gasped, stumbling forward as his hand flew frantically to his throat. His fingers closed around the syringe buried deep into his skin.
For a second, he could only stare at the peripheral visual of it, utterly confused by the sharp, crawling cold effect spreading beneath his skin.
Before he could even pull it out, an icy, burning crawling sensation flooded his bloodstream, instantly heavy and suffocating.
Kryptonite. ..and something more.
“Big Yeesh.”
A familiar, easy-going voice said, taking out the kryptonite needle and flicking it proudly.
“Sorry big guy, but ya kinda brought this upon yourself.”
The man gave the empty syringe a little twirl between his fingers before putting it back into his belt with an obnoxiously casual flourish.
Kon blinked through the dark spots creeping across his eyes. A flash of black leather and bright blue across the chest blurred into view. An apologetic, cocky grin.
The familiar blue bird symbol burned into Kon’s fading vision.
Kon’s legs finally buckled completely. His shoulder slammed against the damp brick wall before his body hit the cold alley pavement. The icy burn of the poison swallowed his veins, dragging him down into heavy, suffocating darkness.
Nightwing?