Chapter Text
TV says spying is rude.
TV also says that spying is the only way to get proper information (as long as you stay for the full conversation) (he’s seen enough dramas to have learnt that lesson well - Wendy’s season six finale was only a problem because Hope had spied on Wendy in episode two and taken the absolute wrong message from Wendy’s confession) (but that’s a lesson that’s entirely a digression from the point).
The point is this: when Dr. Ross doesn’t show up for their afternoon session, he weighs patience against the thrill of sneaking along the ceiling, figuring out why Dr. Ross is late, and the ceiling has the TV’s backing and the benefit of not being primary lab, which is the worst lab.
Which is why he’s not in the primary lab when he feels the perimeter alarm flicker and glitch out, footsteps and a cheery conversation letting him know to hide against a support beam. It’s why he can listen in, instead of pace and worry about the new footsteps in his home, and why he’s at the perfect spot to stay out of sight and observe the strangers a moment longer. It wasn't a skill Lex needed to teach – he's been watching other people since the moment he opened his eyes behind the glass – but it's the one he's found the most useful, compared to everything else Lex had been trying to drill into his head.
(Okay, the punching is pretty cool. But that's mostly been Mercy, so it doesn't count. And the other lessons, that he doesn't tell Lex about, those are...uncomfortable. When Dr. Ross is getting him to test the limits of his Web, he feels studied, pushed, in a way that his other tests don't bring to mind.
Told to lift a box, then a desk, then more, and met with delight, too eager, when compared to the bored way he's asked to flex his fingers or stretch to his toes in his other tests.)
So watching people is his best skill, at the moment.
One of them's blonde and very pretty, short hair cropped in a jagged way and held back by a hairband, and the other, shorter one, has red hair stuck in a messy poof. He looks young, freckles coating his face like crumbs, and it’s tempting to press a hand against his face to see if they’d be raised under a touch. Freckles had been biologically explained, of course, in cause and treatment, but not their texture, their variations in colour. He's seen a scattered few before (even Lex has some), but never as prominent as this.
It’s fascinating, in a way that makes nerves fizzle in his stomach, to see other people in person. Everyone he’s interacted with before can be counted on one hand with fingers left over, and Mercy normally tells him he’s supposed to form a fist. Since they haven’t seen him yet, he’s held off on her violent advice, and seeing them interact is like watching TV live. For as long as this lasts – as long as they don’t spot him – he’ll keep quiet and hope that Dr. Ross or Dr. Donovan don’t pass by the security room and see the malfunctioning alarm.
“God,” says the blonde, hands shoved in her pockets. “Why is there such a difference between internship and apprenticeship? If I ever needed to define something as a fluff piece I’ll be able to point to my new mountain of busywork, and you’re out here playing with oxy- uh- oxy-axey kits?”
The red-head laughs, nose crinkled. “Oxy-acetylene kit,” he says, then adds, “Theoretically it’s ‘cause I’ve proven I know how screwdrivers work but you haven’t proven you know what words are.” There’s a lower snicker that follows those words, then a loud, whining, “Ow! Hey.”
“I know what words are,” grumbles the blonde, “and I know you set things on fire more than I’d misspell ‘acetylene’.”
“Caaaaaaassie,” whines the red-head, and the blonde – Cassie, he presumes, even if the name had been drawn out like a child – rolls her eyes.
“Stop taunting me with your cool shit and let’s get your stuff, Bart. I still need to eat some time in the next thirty minutes.”
Bart? clicks his tongue with a frown. “The tech’s cool, but I could do without the rest of it being Lexcorp. Don’t get me wrong.”
“Making all your dreams come true,” Cassie says, the tone of her voice mimicking a jingle but the derision making it flat. “Gotta love a good megacorp. Did you know, Tana, one of the college interns, has been gone since Monday? She asked Luthor about compensation ‘cause she doesn’t even get minimum wage, and then she was in his office for like an hour and no-one saw her after. Capitalism. ”
“Yiiiikes,” Bart says, teeth bared in a grimace. “I just need to pick up some stuff from Lab 102 and then we can grab lunch. Tacos? It’ll be busy but we can just grab them from the cafeteria and eat somewhere else.”
“Hell yeah,” Cassie says. “How’s that been, by the way? I know that first ‘lunch meeting’ sounded like it was going to be a overstim disaster.”
Bart crosses his hands over his chest in an X. “Nope,” he says. “Not happening. This is not a Bart interrogation zone.”
“Whaaaat, no, no interrogation here-” Cassie says, her lips twitching, and Bart rolls his eyes.
“Do you know how many cameras Luthor has in the labs? Like, three hundred million. Four hundred million.”
Except the one currently broken, he thinks, but Bart’s already continuing, his hands fluttering by his chest. “Four hundred million cameras is a bad time to make this a Bart interrogation zone. Subject change.”
“Man, Luthor’s such a freak,” Cassie says, and he frowns at the mention of Lex - it's not a nice descriptor, and he's also pretty sure Lex is completely normal. After all, he didn't get the walking-on-walls thing from Lex, only the eye colour. So 'freak' is a particularly harsh description. Especially with the derision Cassie has added to the word. “But fine. No interrogation zone. What else do you need to get done up here?”
“Just the documents.” Bart says, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pockets. “There’s pretty private projects up here, so we shouldn’t touch anything else. I don’t think they’re doing public release trials on this stuff for years yet. Dr. Ross had to waive the security permissions so I could even get in here.”
There’s a low whistle, then, “Damn, Bart, endearing yourself in your first week?”
“Hah, as if I want to understand any of the shit up here. It’s all bioengineering stuff. It’s more like he wants me out of the way when he has to talk to Roquette. He made her write a whole thirty page document on genetic interference for the world’s most fucked up thought experiment and I laughed too hard when she called him an idiot. Like, what is it about geneticists that make them morally insane?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh it was a whole thing on like, uh…” Bart trails off and then goes, “You know that shit in the Clone Wars where Palpatine made the Order 66? Yeah well Dr. Ross was like ‘oh lol don’t you think it’d be so fascinating to identify what strains of a person’s personality are directly affected by their genetic history? Considering historic and familial trauma can sometimes have long-running effects on your descendants? We could improve genetic predisposition for independence.” Bart’s hands flutter by his chest, and he stomps side-to-side in a robotic fashion as he mockingly says, “‘Hurr-durr I’m a geneticist who works for Lexcorp and I can’t see how this would be a negative’.” Cassie covers her snort with one hand and Bart beams. “Anyway, Roquette told him to get fucked. Super funny. She blew gum in his face and everything, holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” echoes Cassie, a laugh in her tone. “Like actually?”
“Oh yeah. Iconic. I think Cissie would love her.”
Cassie hums under her breath and Bart side-eyes her. “Still being weird?” he asks, and Cassie mimics Bart’s earlier X. A season finale, he thinks, curious and edging closer to keep them in the right spot. No-one looks up, he’s found, even Dr. Ross, and if he’s careful and stays out of camera blind spots he’s normally out of real visuals too.
“No Cassie interrogation zone either, thank you very much.” She skips forward a few steps, light enough on her feet that it barely registers in the Web, and he shifts on the ceiling to track them as they round another corner.
There’s a moment of silence, and then Bart asks, “What are you thinking?”
“...do you know if anyone else is in the lab? I mean…Wouldn’t it be cool to see what new stuff Lexcorp is throwing together in there?”
“That’s not open to the public-” Bart says, and then makes a mischievous, light noise. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s too quick, too sharp.
“We’re not exactly part of the public though,” Cassie adds, like she’s finishing off an unasked question present in Bart’s noise.
“And Lab 102 is on the other side of all this stuff, so it’s technically a shortcut…”
Cassie laughs, “Yeah, look, you’re just being efficient!”
“Time-saving, idea-supporting, I’m the king of good ideas.” Bart says, and Cassie snorts, her head thrown back.
He darts around the corner in case she decides to open her eyes while looking up, but thankfully neither of them spot him. “How long’s the rest of your lunch break?”
“Ugh,” Cassie says, using her height to peer into the transom window of the preliminary lab, where he’s supposed to be. It’s the one with his pod, and she lets out a low whistle when she looks in. “Long enough to want to know what’s in 102, if this is the ‘normal’ shit. And here I thought the Lane exposé of AmazoTech had some creepy mad scientist vibes. What the heck kind of bioengineering are they doing up here?”
“What do you mean?” Bart asks, bouncing on his toes to try and peer over Cassie’s shoulder, and then he lets out a nervous, confused laugh, “brooo, what the fuck. That looks like it should be with Roquette’s research.”
“Genetics?” Cassie asks, and he wishes he could say, duh. What else would Dr. Ross have in the primary lab, but genetic research that would prevent degradation? Lex has talked enough about how much money he cost - he can’t imagine how much of a waste it would be if he melted.
“No, like, literally her stuff. On genetic predisposition,” Bart says, and Cassie hums, moving further down the hall and around the corner. He shifts to follow them, hunched by a support beam in the corner, and when Bart rounds the corner he catches the edges of a frown. “Cassie-”
“Oh this doesn’t have horror movie vibes at all, ” Cassie says, ignoring how Bart grabs at her arm. “What do you think is in there?”
Bart’s silent for a moment, then rocks onto his tip toes and back down again. “We could find out,” he suggests, slow and specific, and Cassie’s eyes are narrow.
“Five bucks for monster in a weird glass tube, ten bucks for strapped to a laboratory table?”
“Fifteen for knife hands,” Bart says, and then pushes Cassie forward.
“Rude,” she hisses, and nerves prickle to life in his stomach. They shouldn’t be- they’re not- Cassie’s reaching for the door, and-
That’s his room. They’re not allowed in there!
Granted they’re not allowed anywhere down this hallway, but no way is he letting them poke through his stuff.
"Hi," he says, and winces when both of them suddenly scream and whirl around. His ears are ringing, but he still feels the launched projectile coming through the air, and sidesteps it without looking. "Hi," he tries again. "Stop screaming?"
They do not comply, which sucks, but they do also have to take a breath. In the interim, he lets gravity take him properly, flipping down to match their ready stances. It does have the effect that in the breath they take following his flip they stop screaming, but both of them are now trembling, clutching each other. Cassie has half-stepped in front of Bart, and he’s not surprised to read a battle-ready set to her back foot.
He forgets, sometimes. That the ceiling isn't a secondary floor, that people aren't used to it. He supposes he deserves the yelling.
“Sup?” he says, nodding his head smoothly like he’s seen people do on TV. Then, his mouth continues without permission: “What’s up?” and he winces. “…is that superfluous?”
“Technically,” says Bart, his hands wrapped in Cassie’s shirt as he obviously attempts to pull her backward. He spots Bart’s hand going for the doorknob again, and frowns.
“Don’t go in there,” he orders.
Cassie scowls, brilliant and sharp, with teeth bared. “Why?” she demands, “Does Lex have more metahumans on lockdown in his literal personality-fuck-around lab-"
“What? No. That's my bedroom. There's like-” implanted knowledge says 'underwear' is the embarrassing answer, even if it's true, so- “dead bodies and stuff. On the floor.”
They do not look comforted. He’s starting to think TV and the tube have not given him a great deal of social skills.
He does, however, have more than a pretty decent grasp of his surroundings – there’s a sharp stab of impatient footsteps right on the edge of the Web, headed their way. And there’s no way these two are supposed to be here, not judging from their conversation before.
They’re new. They’re wrong. They’re exciting.
Two seconds is too long to think – he’s used his Sense to open the door and corralled them inside before the action has even solidified as a thought, and they both yelp, confused and clumsy.
“Wait a sec,” Bart starts, “there’s no bodies in here-” but then his words get cut off as he tumbles into Cassie. The door to his bedroom slams shut on an annoyed, “Hey!”
“Be quiet,” he says, forehead pressed to the cool steel, “unless you want to get in trouble for being here?”
Then suddenly there’s Dr. Ross, rounding the corner with a bright, “Thirteen! My boy, how are you?”
“Good morning,” he says, and he’s nervous – he knows he’s nervous, and that it’s probably obvious by how his Sense is going haywire. Like picking at a hangnail, it tugs at loose items in the area, and jerks the edges of Dr. Ross’ coat, making him swat at the fabric.
Dr. Ross is only impressed when the Sense does what it's asked to do, but even if he doesn’t show it, he's always delighted that it exists. It's one of the things that highlights that it's not entirely normal – because why else would anyone care? If it was like breathing, or blinking, there'd be no need to test it the same way they test his speech, his walking, his blood.
“Thirteen,” Dr. Ross says, a hint of impatience in his voice, “why don’t we go inside your room, and you can sit somewhere more calming, hm? Your telekinesis seems a bit riled up today. Did Mercy finally agree to watch a movie with you?”
The tone implies it’s a joke, but he grabs onto it with both hands and a sharp nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s- that’s it. But, uh- my room’s a mess, I really need to shove everything in my closet! ”
Dr. Ross frowns, pushing past him to go for the door. He knows he’s not supposed to let it loose like this, not supposed to imply he can’t control his Sense because it always ends with Dr. Ross filing his reports with recommendations that Lex stay away, but-
He clenches his fist by his side and his Sense keeps the latch stuck. Dr. Ross frowns at the door.
“Thirteen,” Dr. Ross says sharply.
He presses his lips together, throat tight. “Sorry,” he says, “sorry, just. You know how I get. Hot date with a hot babe, how could I not be hype?”
He lets the latch go, and Dr. Ross huffs before pushing the door open and into-
An empty room.
Messy, but empty.
Relief hits him like a wave, and he has to hold back a breath, heart going way too fast for comfort. They’d heard. And judging by the few scattered piles of clothing strewn across his bedspread, they’d dragged his extra blanket into the closet for cover. Clever.
“Sit, Thirteen,” Dr. Ross says, setting down a medkit on the desk, and he flops backward onto his bed, arms spread.
“Hey, do you think this is gonna be a million hours again or am I actually going to make it for my movie? You want me to keep Mercy waiting?” he asks, teasing, and gets a disapproving raised eyebrow in response. He sighs. “Sitting,” he mumbles, forcing himself up while Dr. Ross preps a needle.
“I’ll try to get this over and done with as quickly as possible,” Dr. Ross promises.
Obediently he holds out his arm, waiting, but the needle doesn’t prick like it should and he winces at the displeasure on Dr. Ross’ face. “Sorry,” he says, and clenches his fist to pull the Sense back so his arm is exposed properly.
“Good job,” Dr. Ross says when the needle sinks in, “it’s alright, Thirteen. Today is auspicious.”
He shivers, cold flickering through him, and he knows it’s just the Sense adjusting to new material but it doesn’t make him feel better. He flexes his hand, then frowns at the lag between his thought and the movement. “Hey, doc, I-” he goes to stand, but a wave of dizziness makes him stagger and Dr. Ross easily pushes him back down. “Woah, wha-?” he says, the word drawn out slow from his uncooperative mouth. Dr. Ross pats his shoulder.
“Just wait, Thirteen,” Dr. Ross says softly, attention drifting away as he fishes his phone from his pocket. A moment of texting, his attention fully on the screen, and then he looks up and smiles again. “I need you to know that it’ll be fine. You haven’t met many new people, and this will be a lot. That’s why we’re keeping you relaxed.”
A brief flare of hope grows low in his stomach, but it’s drowned out by the roil of discomfort making his limbs feel heavy. His brain is telling him it’s not right even as he asks, “For- for what?”
“I’ll explain in just a minute, Thirteen. We’ll need to-”
A knock, at the door, and he flinches. Where’s his Sense? The Web he normally keeps so carefully pressed in the hallway outside his door, so he always knows when Lex – or anyone else – is coming?
He can’t- he can’t even feel the shift of Cassie or Bart in his closet anymore. Did they get out? There’s no easy escape, not unless one of them could fit in an air vent, and-
Dr. Ross is jumping up from the desk, opening the door to his room without even asking, and he barely manages to lever himself up to see who Dr. Ross greets with a beaming, “General Riley! Excellent, I’m so glad you’re here. Please come inside. Thirteen has been sedated-”
“I- what?”
“-but I have previous copies of his prior testing here.”
“Dr. Ross-” he tries, the start of panic making his heart beat faster, his space invaded and no Web to rely on, but Dr. Ross just clicks his tongue; his normal sign for quiet.
“Thirteen, be patient please.” Dr. Ross says, not even looking at him while his breath starts to pick up, heart thudding in his ears. Dr. Ross hands over a file, similar to the ones he normally hands over to Lex whenever Lex comes down to visit, but it’s-
The face on the front is his, but different. It’s been a while since he last wore a compression suit – almost six months, since he was last in the pod – and his hair is long in the photo like it hasn’t been for ages . Plus, the file’s a lot thicker than the monthly updates that Lex gets. Is that- is this a record of him, ever since he’d come out of the pod? If so, why? Lex has all that information already, and Dr. Ross on retainer if he ever wants to ask anything further, or even Mercy if he wants to check how general education is going. What’s the point of inviting a soldier into the lab, and giving her- ‘prior testing’?
“Dr. Ross, I’ll expect you to work on its behaviour,” General Riley says as she flicks through the papers listed. “But this…this is perfect. And the genetic potential for adaption, as you promised?”
“Oh, yes! I’ve only been able to test general limits so far, but the fluctuations in what normally constitute an upper limit is fascinating. And using his genetic code as a base would be very simple if you wanted to implant his metagenes into other subjects, or make your own. He's designed for adaptability.”
“Dr. Ross-”
“ Thirteen, ” Dr. Ross says, too sharp when normally he’s steady and patient, and then he heaves a sigh and walks over to the bed. “Now, Thirteen,” Dr. Ross says, cupping his cheek. Unbidden, he leans into the gentle contact even as discomfort makes his chest tight. “I told you before. You need to be patient. Everything will be fine! It’s just that…I didn’t expect-” he sighs, heavy and short. “Well, when Lex put your whole project on pause after Kent left, I thought: hey! Why put everything to waste? I wasn’t expecting him to bring you out of stasis. And when you actually developed abilities from my work? I don’t want to try and figure out what Lex Luthor would do to me if he found out I gave his son superpowers. General Riley will be solving everything! I’ll be safe, and you’ll have much more freedom – I promise.”
“But-”
“You want to go outside, don’t you?” Dr. Ross says, fingers running softly along the curve of his cheek, and he flinches away from the touch. It feels wrong, even if he wants it, because he knows, he knows, this is some sort of trick. A question with a wrong answer.
“Come on, Doctor,” General Riley snaps, her fists on her hips. “I understand your attachment to it, but as you’ve mentioned before, our time here is limited. Let's get moving.”
A hand wraps around his arm, bruisingly tight in a way he never normally has to feel, and he snarls. Outside is a pipe dream – and this isn’t the way he’s going to get it. Clutching for his Sense feels like pulling at a wire, tight and painful against his palms, but he’s not letting them take him.
With a shove against his Sense, General Riley goes stumbling backward, head cracking against the door frame, and he yanks his arm out of Dr. Ross’ grip, staggering away. Another hand reaches for him, nails dragging sharp and painful across his neck, and he almost gags at the touch before his Sense shoves it away.
He knows he doesn’t have control. He knows if he pulls it back he’s not going to get it working again. He still winces as Dr. Ross goes down with a cry, clutching his ankle.
How much of this can Bart and Cassie hear, shoved into his closet? What do they think is going on, as things crash to the ground? Can they hear the snap as his Sense reaches out and breaks delicate things so they stop making him hurt?
General Riley is barking orders, more uniformed people filtering into his room, and his Sense pops sickeningly against his control. Something wet drips from his nose, and he looks down to see red falling onto his trembling hand.
Then, the General is lunging for his throat, twisting his shirt around her fist as she yanks him from the room. He chokes, tripping over his own feet, and there’s a blaze of gold and red in his peripheral as Cassie comes out of the closet swinging.
"Get off him, creep!" Cassie yells, and he hears the sharp crack of her knuckles as she meets skin. The General goes staggering back, and Bart comes in next, kicking the General in the knee with a loud holler.
" Cassie, Cassie, Cassie," Bart says, the name bleeding into one word, and Cassie punctuates her own words with more punches, and dirty kicks, aiming for eyes and kneecaps and-
He winces as she gets someone between the legs.
"This! Is! So! Insane !"
“ Cassie! ” Bart yells again, and he suddenly realises Bart’s hand is wrapped around his wrist, Sense feebly curled around Bart’s fragile wrist but not twisting. Bart’s pulling him to the open door, and Cassie lets out a furious yell before suddenly coming up behind them, scooping him into her arms, and bolting into the hall.
How does she expect to escape? How can they run if he’s limp over her shoulders and deadweight? How could they think to outpace a group of angry adults?
His Sense kicks back again, and he grits his teeth, reaching out to touch. His Sense is wrong – it hurts to be forcing it under control, but he pushes through the pulsing of his head and thinks about the interlocking wall, the floor, the tiles, and slams the door shut in Dr. Ross’ face. He clenches his fist, and the door knob crunches, hinges swallowed by the doorframe, and then-
He’s out.