Post credit scene 1:
The Malibu mansion stood silent against the night, waves crashing against the cliffs below as Tony's Audi R8 purred up the winding driveway. The past seventy-two hours had been a blur of press conferences, government inquiries, and thinly veiled threats from military contractors who suddenly found themselves competing with a man in powered armor.
Tony was exhausted. Not physically—the suit actually distributed weight so efficiently that piloting it was less strenuous than one of his usual workouts. No, this was the bone-deep weariness that came from having your entire worldview shifted, your purpose redefined, your secrets exposed to the harsh light of global scrutiny.
"I am Iron Man." Four words that had changed everything.
He pulled into the garage, the lights automatically illuminating as JARVIS detected his arrival. The collection of cars gleamed under the recessed lighting—mechanical works of art that now seemed almost quaint compared to what waited for him in the workshop below.
"Welcome home, sir," JARVIS greeted as Tony stepped out of the car. "Your press conference has generated considerable—" The AI's voice stuttered, then cut out entirely.
Tony froze, keys still in hand. JARVIS didn't glitch. Ever.
"JARVIS?" He tried again, tension crawling up his spine. "System diagnostic."
Nothing.
Someone had compromised his security, managed to silence an AI that could hack the Pentagon without breaking a sweat. His mind raced through possibilities as he moved cautiously toward the workshop—the safest place in the house, where a new suit waited.
But the workshop door didn't respond to his handprint. Whoever had gotten to JARVIS had locked him out of his own sanctuary.
Tony changed direction, heading instead for the living room where he kept a remote activation device for the Mark III. As he entered the darkened space, the moonlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a silhouette—a man standing with his back to Tony, seemingly admiring the view of the Pacific.
"'I am Iron Man,'" the figure quoted, his voice carrying a note of amused exasperation. "You think you're the only superhero in the world?"
The silhouette turned, revealing a tall Black man dressed in a leather coat that seemed almost military in its precision. Most striking, however, was the eyepatch that covered his left eye, giving him the appearance of a modern-day pirate.
"Mr. Stark," he continued, stepping forward slightly, "you've become part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet."
Tony maintained his position near the entrance, mind calculating angles, distances, potential weapons within reach. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, trying to sound more annoyed than concerned.
The man moved fully into the light now, his single eye studying Tony with unnerving intensity. "Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Ah." Tony relaxed marginally, recognition dawning. "Agent Coulson's boss. The one with the ridiculously long agency name. Strategic Homeland... something something."
"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Fury supplied, seemingly unperturbed by Tony's attempt at nonchalance. "But then, you already knew that. Just like you knew we were monitoring the situation in Gulmira when you decided to play international hero with your new friends."
Tony moved to the bar, partly to create distance, partly because he genuinely needed a drink after the day he'd had. "If you're here about international airspace violations, you're going to need to take a number. The Air Force, State Department, and UN Security Council all beat you to it."
"I'm not here about Gulmira," Fury replied, watching Tony pour himself two fingers of scotch. "Though I am curious about your companions."
"Companions?" Tony kept his expression carefully neutral, taking a deliberate sip from his glass.
"Please." Fury's voice carried equal parts amusement and impatience. "The red-and-blue Boy Scout from Metropolis? The bat-themed vigilante from Gotham? Ring any bells?"
Tony considered his options. Deny everything? Unlikely to work with someone who had apparently managed to sideline JARVIS. Deflect? Possibly. Confront? Always his favorite.
"You know," he said finally, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "breaking into someone's house used to be considered rude. Now there's probably an app for it."
"There is," Fury confirmed without missing a beat. "We designed it."
Despite himself, Tony felt a reluctant smile tug at his lips. "So what exactly do you want, Director? Because if it's about what happened with Obie and that... thing in Metropolis, that's already been handled."
Fury moved to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that spoke of military training. "You know what fascinates me about that press conference of yours, Stark? Not that you outed yourself as Iron Man—though I've got analysts still recovering from that particular curveball. No, what interests me is what you didn't say."
"And what's that?" Tony finished his drink, setting the glass down with deliberate care.
"You didn't mention that the same mineral that's powering your suit was found in Luthor's pet project." Fury's eye narrowed slightly. "You didn't explain how three people with wildly different backgrounds and methodologies happened to converge on Gulmira at exactly the same time. And you definitely didn't address the growing number of enhanced individuals appearing worldwide."
Tony crossed his arms, defensive despite himself. "Enhanced individuals? You make it sound like we're all part of some special club."
"Aren't you?" Fury countered. He reached into his coat, pulling out what appeared to be some kind of tablet. With a few taps, he activated it, projecting images into the air between them.
The first showed Superman caught mid-flight, cape billowing as he soared above Metropolis. "Superman. First appeared in Metropolis approximately four months ago. Power set includes flight, invulnerability, enhanced strength, speed, and what appears to be heat vision. Origin unknown, though our analysts confirm he's extraterrestrial."
Tony studied the image with interest. "You've been monitoring him."
"We monitor all potential threats and assets," Fury replied without elaboration, swiping to the next image.
Batman appeared, a grainy shot that captured him mid-grapple between Gotham rooftops. "The Batman. Operating in Gotham City for approximately five years. No confirmed metahuman abilities, but utilizes advanced technology and combat skills that suggest military or specialized training. Identity unknown, though his equipment suggests substantial financial resources."
"Any theories on who's behind the mask?" Tony asked, genuinely curious.
"Several," Fury admitted. "But unlike you, he's been careful to maintain his anonymity." There was a note of disapproval in Fury's voice as he swiped to the next image. "Some people understand the strategic advantage of a secret identity, Stark. Just like you wanted people to think you were nothing more than a playboy weapons dealer with an MIT degree."
The next image showed what appeared to be security footage from a laboratory accident—a bolt of lightning striking a young man surrounded by chemicals. "Barry Allen. Forensic scientist for the Central City Police Department. Three months ago, he was struck by lightning during a particle accelerator malfunction. Woke up from a coma two weeks ago with the ability to move faster than sound. They're calling him the Flash, at least the few who've actually seen more than a red blur."
Another swipe revealed underwater footage of a muscular figure swimming at impossible speeds through the depths. "Arthur Curry. Half-human, half-Atlantean. Can breathe underwater, communicate with marine life, and bench press a cruise ship. Currently operating near coastal Maine, though the locals think he's just a particularly effective coast guard officer."
Tony stared at the images, mind racing to process the implications. "Atlantis is real?"
"Among other things," Fury confirmed, continuing his presentation. "And then there's the mutant situation."
"Mutants?" Tony repeated, his skepticism evident. "Now you're talking about the X-gene conspiracy theories?"
"Not theories," Fury countered, bringing up a new set of images—teenagers manifesting various abilities, from energy projection to telekinesis. "A genetic evolution that's accelerating across the globe. Charles Xavier's school in Westchester isn't just teaching calculus and literature, Stark. It's training the next generation of enhanced individuals to control powers that could level cities if mishandled."
Tony moved back to the bar, needing another drink to process what he was seeing. "So let me get this straight. There are aliens, vigilantes, science experiments gone wrong, fish people, and genetically advanced humans all running around, and somehow nobody's noticed?"
"People see what they want to see," Fury replied with a shrug. "And we help maintain that particular blind spot when necessary. At least until the world is ready."
"Ready for what?" Tony asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"For the truth," Fury said simply. "That we're not alone in the universe. That humanity is changing in ways we're only beginning to understand. And that threats exist that no single hero—not even Iron Man—can face alone."
Tony considered the man before him, weighing skepticism against the evidence of his own recent experiences. "Why come to me? Why not Superman or Batman? Hell, why not this Xavier guy if he's got a whole school of super-kids?"
"Because you went public," Fury said, switching off the projector. "Made yourself a visible target for everything that goes bump in the night. And because the others, for all their powers and resources, still think they can handle everything alone."
"While I'm a team player?" Tony couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of that assessment.
"No," Fury allowed a small smile. "You're a narcissist with daddy issues and an ego the size of the Western Hemisphere. But you're also smart enough to recognize when you're outmatched, creative enough to find solutions where others see only problems, and just self-destructive enough to jump into the deep end without checking for sharks first."
"You really know how to flatter a guy," Tony muttered, but found himself oddly intrigued rather than offended.
Fury moved closer, his expression growing serious. "Something's coming, Stark. Something bigger than Stane's betrayal or Luthor's weapons program. The appearance of Superman changed everything—revealed Earth to forces we're only beginning to comprehend. And while he's powerful, he can't be everywhere."
"And you think Iron Man can help where Superman can't?" Tony raised an eyebrow.
"I think Iron Man represents exactly what humanity needs right now—the proof that we can rise to these new challenges using our own ingenuity. That we don't have to rely on aliens or accidents to protect ourselves." Fury's voice carried genuine conviction. "That suit you built in a cave? It's just the beginning of what you could create if properly motivated and resourced."
Tony studied the director carefully, trying to gauge his true intentions. "What exactly are you proposing here, Fury? Because if you're asking for the Iron Man suit, you can forget it. I already gave that speech to Congress."
"I'm not interested in the suit," Fury replied dismissively. "I'm interested in the man who built it. Who looked at a box of scraps in a terrorist cave and saw salvation instead of defeat."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Tony said, though his tone suggested otherwise.
"It's not flattery if it's true." Fury reached into his coat again, this time producing a slim file folder stamped with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. "What I'm offering is an opportunity, Stark. A chance to be part of something bigger than yourself."
Tony eyed the folder warily. "And what would that 'something' be, exactly?"
Fury placed the folder on the coffee table between them, then stepped back. "That's classified."
"Yet you're sharing it with me, a civilian you just admitted has ego issues."
"I'm sharing it with Iron Man," Fury corrected. "Who, despite his questionable decision-making and publicity addiction, has demonstrated the kind of potential we need."
Tony approached the folder cautiously, half-expecting it to explode or release some exotic toxin. When nothing happened, he flipped it open to reveal a single sheet of paper emblazoned with a stylized "A" logo and the words "Avengers Initiative."
"The Avengers Initiative?" Tony read aloud, glancing up at Fury. "Sounds like a self-help group for people with anger management issues."
"It's a response team," Fury explained, his tone making it clear he was sharing more than he typically would. "Composed of unique individuals who can fight the battles that regular forces never could."
"And you want me to join your superhero boy band?" Tony couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
"I want you to consider the possibilities," Fury countered. "Superman operates alone. Batman works in shadows. The Flash is still figuring out his powers. But together, coordinated, supported by an organization with global reach and resources?" He gestured to the folder. "You could be part of something unprecedented."
Tony closed the folder, pushing it back toward Fury. "I don't play well with others. Ask anyone."
"I have," Fury replied with a knowing smile. "That's why I'm here first. Figured you'd be the easiest to find, given that whole 'telling the world you're Iron Man' stunt."
"It wasn't a stunt," Tony objected, though part of him recognized the element of theater in his revelation.
"Of course it was," Fury countered. "Everything's a performance with you, Stark. The question is whether your next act will be solo or ensemble." He nodded toward the folder. "Read it. Think about it. When you're ready to have a real conversation about the future, about what's really at stake—I'll be around."
Tony studied the man before him, trying to decide if he was a potential ally or just another player trying to manipulate the newly-minted Iron Man for their own agenda. "And if I'm not interested?"
"Then I'll find someone who is." Fury's matter-of-factness was somehow more compelling than any hard sell could have been. "The world's changing, Stark. The question isn't whether you'll be part of that change, but how."
As if on cue, the lights dimmed momentarily before returning to normal, and JARVIS's familiar voice filled the room. "Systems restored, sir. My apologies for the interruption."
Fury smiled slightly at Tony's surprised expression. "Just a temporary override. Your AI should be fully functional now."
"You'll forgive me if I run a complete diagnostic anyway," Tony replied dryly.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Fury turned toward the door, coat swishing dramatically with the movement. "We'll be in touch."
"I'm sure you will." Tony picked up the folder again, curiosity winning out over suspicion.
—
Post Credit Scene 2
The desert night was cold, stars impossibly bright in the vast New Mexico sky. Dr. Amanda Calloway checked her watch—2:43 AM—and took another sip of bitter coffee from her thermos. The portable monitoring equipment hummed quietly around her, the only sound besides the occasional coyote call echoing across the barren landscape.
"Anything yet?" Dr. Emil Hamilton asked, joining her at the makeshift monitoring station they'd established on this remote LexCorp property. His breath fogged in the cold air as he adjusted his glasses, eyes flicking between various computer screens.
"Nothing," she replied, frustration evident in her voice. "But Luthor was certain. The trajectory calculations from the satellite data put impact in this zone within the next twenty minutes." She gestured at the topographical map displayed on the central monitor. "Whatever survived reentry should land within this five-mile radius."
Hamilton nodded, pulling his coat tighter against the desert chill. "And Luthor really believes something could survive that fall? From near-orbit? The thermal stresses alone during reentry would vaporize most materials."
"Most materials," Amanda emphasized, checking another monitor. "But after what we saw in Metropolis... conventional physics doesn't seem to apply anymore."
Their conversation died as headlights cut through the darkness. Three black SUVs approached, kicking up dust along the access road. Amanda straightened her lab coat instinctively.
"Looks like the boss decided to join us," she muttered. "Just what this night needed."
The vehicles stopped in a precise formation around their monitoring station. Security personnel emerged first, sweeping the area with military efficiency before one opened the rear door of the middle SUV. Lex Luthor stepped out, his tailored overcoat somehow immaculate despite the dusty conditions. Mercy Graves followed close behind, her alertness visible even in the dim light of the monitoring equipment.
"Dr. Calloway, Dr. Hamilton," Lex acknowledged, approaching the station with measured steps. "Progress?"
"Nothing yet, Mr. Luthor," Amanda reported, gesturing to their equipment. "But our satellites confirm the object is still on trajectory. Impact expected within fifteen minutes."
Lex nodded, his expression betraying nothing. "And the recovery teams?"
"In position," Hamilton confirmed. "Three tactical units with specialized containment equipment, just as you specified."
"Good." Lex moved to the monitors, studying the data with practiced ease. "The radiation signature?"
Amanda tapped a few keys, bringing up a spectrographic analysis. "Still present but weakening. The pattern matches what we recorded during the Metropolis incident—the unique tri-band emissions from the mineral cores."
"Metallo," Lex corrected gently, as if teaching a child. "His name is Metallo, Doctor. We should acknowledge what he became, what my father's vision created." His voice carried that particular blend of pride and disdain that Amanda had grown accustomed to when Lex discussed Lionel's work.
For several minutes, they stood in silence, watching the monitors as the tracking systems followed the object's descent. The quiet was broken only by the occasional status update from the recovery teams via radio.
"You know," Lex said suddenly, his eyes still fixed on the screens, "the Greeks believed Prometheus was punished not simply for giving humans fire, but for giving us power beyond our natural limitations." He glanced at the scientists. "Do you find it interesting that our culture's modern myths—from Frankenstein to Superman—revolve around the same fear? That by transcending our natural limits, we invite destruction?"
Before either scientist could respond, one of the monitors began beeping rapidly. Amanda's fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Impact in sixty seconds," she announced. "Trajectory unchanged. It's coming in fast—much faster than terminal velocity would suggest."
Lex moved to the edge of their small camp, eyes fixed on the horizon. "It's self-propelled," he said quietly. "The systems are still partially functional."
"That's impossible," Hamilton protested. "After the explosion in orbit, the damage from reentry—"
"And yet," Lex interrupted smoothly, pointing to the sky.
A streak of light tore across the heavens, growing brighter as it approached. Unlike a normal meteor with its white-hot trail, this object glowed with an unnatural green aura that seemed to pulse rhythmically. The sound came next—not the typical roar of atmospheric friction but a high-pitched whine that made Amanda's teeth ache.
"My God," she whispered.
The object slammed into the earth three miles away, the impact sending a visible shockwave rippling across the desert floor. A cloud of dust and debris mushroomed upward, silhouetted against the starry sky.
"Recovery teams, move in," Lex ordered into a radio, his voice perfectly calm. "Full radiation protocols. I want containment established in five minutes."
The SUVs roared to life, security personnel jumping into action with practiced efficiency. Lex turned to the scientists.
"Gather your equipment. I want you at the impact site."
Amanda hesitated. "Sir, the radiation levels—"
"Are well within the tolerances of our protective gear," Lex finished for her. "The mineral cores are damaged but still active. That's why we're here, Doctor. The opportunity to study extraterrestrial technology functioning in synergy with human cybernetics."
Twenty minutes later, Amanda stood at the edge of a crater nearly thirty feet across. Specialized lights had been set up around the perimeter, bathing the scene in harsh white illumination that made the dust particles floating in the air look like snow. Security personnel maintained a tight formation around the site while recovery specialists in radiation suits worked in the crater itself.
At the center lay Metallo—or what remained of him.
The chrome body was barely recognizable, huge sections melted away or sheared off completely during reentry. The right arm was entirely gone, while the left hung by a few cables. The legs had fused together into a twisted mass of metal. But the chest... the chest still glowed with that sickly green light, pulsing faintly beneath cracked protective housing.
"The cores survived," Hamilton breathed, his voice muffled by his protective mask. "How is that possible?"
"The same reason Superman survives what should be fatal impacts," Lex replied, standing between them in his own protective gear. "These minerals don't just store energy—they manipulate fundamental forces in ways we're only beginning to understand."
Amanda watched as recovery specialists secured the broken form onto a specialized gurney, each movement carefully orchestrated to minimize radiation exposure. The remnants of Metallo's face were the most disturbing—the synthetic skin had burned away completely on one side, revealing the chrome skull beneath. But the other side remained intact, frozen in what looked like a peaceful expression. As if in his final moments, John Corbin had found some kind of acceptance.
"Sir," one of the specialists called out, his voice tense. "We've found something unusual."
Lex moved forward, Amanda and Hamilton following close behind. The specialist pointed to a small patch of dried liquid on what remained of Metallo's chest plate.
"Blood," he said simply. "Not Corbin's. His fluids were synthetic by this point."
Lex crouched for a closer look, his expression suddenly intense beneath his protective mask. "You're certain?"
"The preliminary scan shows organic material, sir. And the radiation pattern around it is... different. Like the kryptonite affected it somehow."
Something changed in Lex's posture—a subtle shift that made Amanda instinctively step back. She'd seen this before—the almost predatory focus that came over him when a new possibility presented itself.
"Take samples. Every molecule. I want complete genomic sequencing." Lex's voice was controlled but couldn't quite hide his excitement. "And get Metallo to the secure facility immediately. Full containment protocols."
As the specialists hurried to comply, Lex turned to the scientists, his eyes gleaming behind his mask. "It seems Superman isn't invulnerable after all. At least not completely."
"You think that's his blood?" Hamilton asked, skepticism evident in his tone. "From what we've observed, his biology—"
"Is alien but still biological," Lex finished. "And if the kryptonite radiation affected him at the cellular level..." He trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. "This changes everything. A complete genetic sample of Kryptonian DNA, exposed to the one substance that affects him."
Amanda felt a chill that had nothing to do with the desert night. "What exactly are you planning, Mr. Luthor?"
Lex's smile was barely visible behind his mask, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Progress, Doctor. The next evolutionary step for Project Cadmus."
—
The secure laboratory beneath the newly christened LexCorp Tower hummed with activity even at 3 AM. Three levels below the main research facilities, accessible only through biometric security that recognized fewer than ten people worldwide, the true heart of Lex's vision took shape.
Dr. Eve Teschmacher adjusted the microscope, her elegant fingers moving with practiced precision despite having been awakened less than an hour ago. The sample before her—a tiny smear of dried blood, now carefully rehydrated—glowed faintly under special illumination designed to highlight its alien properties.
"Extraordinary," she murmured, making another adjustment. "The cellular structure is simultaneously familiar and completely foreign. Base proteins similar to human, but molecular bonds unlike anything in our genetic database."
Lex stood behind her, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He'd been in constant motion since returning from the desert, coordinating Metallo's transport, setting up the new research parameters, personally overseeing the blood sample's journey to this most secure facility.
"Can we sequence it?" he asked, the only sign of his exhaustion being a slight deepening of his voice.
Eve glanced up from the microscope. "We can try. But traditional sequencing methods might not work on alien DNA. The base pairs could be fundamentally different."
"Then we'll develop new methods," Lex replied simply, as if ordering lunch. "Whatever resources you need."
He moved to a large display screen on the lab's far wall, activating it with a gesture. Project Cadmus files appeared—years of research into genetic engineering, cybernetic integration, and human enhancement. What had begun under Lionel as military research had evolved under Lex's guidance into something far more ambitious.
"For years, we've been trying to enhance human potential through genetic manipulation," Lex said, scrolling through research data. "But we've been limited by the fundamental constraints of human DNA. Its fragility. Its resistance to significant modification." He turned back to Eve. "But Kryptonian DNA could change everything. A template that's naturally enhanced, naturally superior."
Eve frowned slightly. "You're talking about cloning."
"I'm talking about synthesis," Lex corrected. "Not just replicating Superman, but understanding what makes him what he is. Isolating the genetic sequences that give him his abilities, then adapting them for human application."
"But the ethical implications—"
"Were rendered moot the moment an alien with godlike powers decided to appoint himself humanity's protector," Lex cut in, his tone hardening slightly. "Superman represents an existential imbalance, Eve. One being with that much power? It's not sustainable."
The lab door slid open, admitting Dr. Hamilton. He carried a tablet displaying preliminary analysis of Metallo's remains.
"The cybernetic systems are mostly destroyed," he reported, "but the core integration technology is intact. The radiation chambers, the neural interfaces—they're damaged but salvageable."
"And Corbin?" Lex asked.
Hamilton's expression grew somber. "What remains of his organic components shows minimal cellular activity. But there is activity, Mr. Luthor. Despite everything—the explosion, the fall from orbit, the impact—some part of John Corbin is still alive."
Lex absorbed this with a thoughtful nod. "Begin regeneration protocols. The radiation from the cores should accelerate cellular repair, just as it did before."
"Sir, even if we can restore some function, he won't be the same," Hamilton cautioned. "The neural damage alone—"
"Is an opportunity," Lex interjected smoothly. "The original integration was rushed, improvised. This time, we rebuild him properly. More machine, less human fragility."
He turned back to the large display, typing rapidly to bring up a new section of files. The screen filled with designs for what appeared to be life-support pods—large, cylindrical chambers filled with nutrient fluid, surrounded by monitoring equipment.
"Project Cadmus was always meant to bridge worlds," Lex said, his voice taking on the quality it did when he was lecturing. "Human and machine. Earth science and alien potential. Now we have the perfect components for that bridge."
He pointed to a specific design—a pod larger than the others, its specifications indicating capabilities far beyond normal human parameters.
"We've been developing the growth acceleration technology for years," he continued. "The ability to mature cloned tissue at an expedited rate. With Kryptonian DNA as a template, we can create a being with all of Superman's natural abilities, but without his inconvenient moral constraints."
Eve exchanged a concerned glance with Hamilton. "You're talking about growing a sentient being for the express purpose of weaponizing it."
"I'm talking about creating a counterbalance," Lex corrected gently. "A necessary evolutionary response."
He moved to another workstation, bringing up the genetic analysis programs they'd developed for previous Cadmus research. "We'll need to establish two parallel research tracks. The first—Project Kr—will focus on direct cloning. A perfect genetic replica, accelerated to physical maturity but with a controlled development profile."
His fingers moved across the interface, bringing up another set of specifications. "The second track—Project B-0—will explore Kryptonian genetic manipulation. How the DNA responds to the kryptonite radiation, how we might modify it to create enhanced capabilities beyond even Superman's."
Hamilton frowned. "The resources required for even one of these projects—"
"Are nothing compared to the risk of leaving humanity defenseless," Lex finished. "The Metallo incident made one thing clear: Superman has enemies. Enemies from his world, with his level of power. When the next threat comes—and it will come—we need our own champions."
He straightened, surveying the lab with a sense of purpose. "I want preliminary cloning protocols established within 48 hours. Full genetic sequencing within a week. And the first viable embryonic development within a month."
"That timeline is impossible," Eve protested.
"Impossible?" Lex raised an eyebrow. "A month ago, a being from another planet tore through downtown Metropolis, engaging in battle with a cyborg we created powered by radioactive alien rocks. Our definition of 'impossible' needs revision, Doctor."
"Even if we could achieve those timelines," Hamilton said, "growing a clone to physical maturity would take years, even with acceleration technology."
"Then we'd better start immediately," Lex replied simply. "Humanity's future security won't wait for comfortable research timelines."
He moved toward the lab exit, pausing at the door. "One more thing. This project operates under complete isolation protocols. No data leaves this facility. No communication with the outside world without my direct authorization."
After Lex departed, Eve turned to Hamilton, her expression troubled. "Emil, what exactly have we signed up for here?"
Hamilton stared at the microscopic image of Superman's cells still displayed on the monitor. "The next chapter in human evolution, apparently." He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses. "The question is whether we're advancing humanity or just creating new dangers."
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Sequels to this story - Batman: Shadow of Gotham & Green Lantern: First Flight