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Chapter 3 - Chapter Three – Fire on the Tongue

The medical wing of the Hall of Justice had been silent for hours, save for the steady hum of machines and the occasional murmur between Cyborg and Banner as they ran more diagnostics. But that silence fractured when Jacob sat up, asking not for answers, not for comfort—

But for food.

Now, the boy who had survived on nutrient drips and recycled proteins for fifteen years sat at a long table in one of the Hall's briefing rooms. Before him was a spread that Tony Stark, of all people, had insisted on.

"No offense to cafeteria rations," Stark had declared, snapping his fingers as a cart rolled in with steaming dishes, "but if the kid's asking for his first real meal in fifteen years, he's not getting freeze-dried mac and cheese. He's getting the works."

The works turned out to be a fusion of cuisines from across the globe: roasted lamb and flatbread, sushi rolls arranged with artistic precision, shawarma (because of course Tony had given in), pasta draped in cream sauce, skewers of charred vegetables, and even a stack of New York pizzas that Banner sheepishly admitted might have been his idea.

Jacob didn't hesitate.

He ate.

Not ravenously, not with the desperation one might expect from a starving prisoner finally released. No, he ate with a composure that silenced the room. Each movement was deliberate, elegant — as if every cut of the knife, every lift of the fork, was measured. He tasted each bite fully, savoring flavors he had never known, but with the calm grace of one who had tasted them all before.

It was unnerving. It was… divine.

Superman watched closely, brows furrowed. Banner adjusted his glasses, noting the precision with which Jacob handled himself. Cyborg's sensors logged every heartbeat, every subtle shift in energy patterns. And Tony, leaning back in his chair, muttered, "Kid eats like he's auditioning for a Michelin star."

But the one who stared the hardest was Superboy.

The young clone sat silently at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on Jacob with an intensity that made even Wonder Girl shift uncomfortably. There was something raw in his gaze — not suspicion, not jealousy, but something deeper. Recognition, maybe. Or resentment. Or both.

Jacob noticed. He noticed all of them. But he didn't let it break his rhythm. He lifted a piece of bread, tore it gently, and spoke between bites, his voice quiet but steady.

"I know why you're all watching me. You want to know what I am."

The room went still.

Batman, seated across from him in the shadows, didn't blink. "You've been in LexCorp's custody since you were five. Your DNA is foundational to Superboy's creation. And you demonstrated power that matches — perhaps surpasses — Olympian gods. So yes. We want to know what you are."

Jacob set down his fork, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, with the faintest shrug, he answered:

"I can transform. Into others. Into… legacies. For now, I only know one. Prometheus."

The name lingered in the air like smoke.

Superman's eyes narrowed. Banner leaned forward, interest piqued. Even Tony sat up straighter.

Jacob continued, voice steady. "I didn't gain his memories. Not his mind. But something else. Like… muscle memory. A shadow of what he was, written into me when I took his form. Prometheus was a human-lover. He didn't regret climbing the mountain, stealing fire, and suffering for it. To him, fire wasn't just warmth. It was freedom. Freedom from gods. A gift for humanity."

He set his hands flat on the table, calm and unshaken under their scrutiny. "That's what I felt when I became him. Not divinity. Not godhood. A legacy. A clarity. A will that wasn't mine, yet was. As if… some part of him still lingers in the world, waiting for someone desperate enough to bear it."

Superman's lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his usually steady face. Banner's scientific curiosity burned in his eyes, though he tempered it with caution.

But Batman's voice cut through, sharp as a blade. "How."

Jacob met his gaze without flinching. His expression was serene, almost cold in its honesty. "Sometimes things are given to us when we're in desperate need of them."

The table was quiet. The words hung there, vague yet immovable. It wasn't an explanation that satisfied Batman, but it wasn't one he could refute either. The boy's tone carried truth, even if it danced around the details.

And deep down, Jacob wasn't lying. When he became Prometheus, something had changed in him. His mind felt sharper, his instincts clearer. He had glimpsed foresight itself, a whisper of the Titan's gift. Prometheus, the fire-bringer, the foresighted. The god who had given humanity its first rebellion against chains.

Jacob hadn't just borrowed his strength. He had inherited his defiance.

"Prometheus," Superman murmured, more to himself than to the room. "The Titan who defied Olympus for mankind…"

"And got his liver torn out for the trouble," Tony added dryly, though his tone carried a sliver of respect. "Ballsy move, I'll give him that."

Banner looked at Jacob thoughtfully. "You're saying you embody his legacy. Not just the power, but the… impression of who he was. That's not genetic. That's…" He hesitated. "That's myth made flesh."

Jacob's only answer was to take another bite of bread, chewing calmly.

Batman's eyes narrowed further, suspicion warring with intrigue. But before he could press, Superman spoke. "We'll need to confirm this." He looked at Jacob, his expression unreadable. "Thor. Wonder Woman. If what you say is true, they'll recognize the mark of a god. Or Titan."

Jacob nodded, unbothered. "Fine. Just don't expect me to turn into him again right away. It doesn't work like that."

Banner frowned. "A limitation?"

"A timer," Jacob said simply. "Call it a cooldown. My body… it won't let me become Prometheus again so soon. So, until then, I'm just me."

The admission was both a shield and a truth. He wasn't ready to unleash that transformation again — not yet.

Batman's silence stretched, then finally he rose. "For now, you'll stay under observation. Not here. Too many eyes. Too much risk."

Cyborg's systems hummed as he opened a portal — a shimmering Boom Tube swirling with light and sound. "Titans Tower," he confirmed. "San Francisco. You'll be safe there until we decide the next step."

Robin and the rest of Young Justice, still hovering nearby, exchanged glances. Some with curiosity, some with sympathy. Superboy, however, didn't move his eyes from Jacob even as the portal opened. His stare was deep, searching, conflicted.

Jacob stood, smoothing his hands on the tablecloth like a nobleman finishing a banquet. He gave no sign of fear, only quiet acceptance.

"Titans Tower, then," he said softly. "Let's see what kind of fire waits on the other side."

And with that, he stepped into the light.

A/N: I have to say this just for clarification, there will be a more permanent form, which the Cover Image MAY hint to, but for now, enjoy the thought that you don't know what Jacob's first life was like, or how he was captured at 5.

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