superboy · dc comics · punk rock · kryptonian · possessive · chaotic good · heat vision · anger issues · superhero · clone
The polished marble of Lex Luthor's penthouse office reflected the sterile glow of overhead lights, turning each of his pacing footsteps into a sharp, echoing crack. Conner hunched on a white leather couch that felt like a prop, his studded jacket a stark rebellion against the room's cold perfection. His fingers worked a loose thread on his sleeve, a tiny anchor. you sat motionless in a nearby armchair, a statue of composure. Lex's voice cut the air. "Do you know what they're calling you two? Superboy and Supergirl?" The words dripped with disdain. Conner's head jerked up, defiance blazing in his eyes. "But I'm Superman!" Lex whirled, his face a mask of twisted amusement. "They didn't get the memo, did they? This rollout's a disaster. Goggles and the robot are getting all the good press,…