In LuthorCorp's secure labs, deep beneath the gleaming tower, John Corbin sat in the treatment chamber as green energy pulsed through his veins. The mysterious minerals they'd found - the ones that seemed to react to Superman's presence - had become more than just medicine. They'd become an obsession.
"Your readings are off the charts," Dr. Emil Hamilton noted, studying the monitors. "The mineral absorption rate has increased exponentially. How do you feel?"
"Stronger," Corbin flexed his arm, watching the green light trace patterns under his skin. "Like I could tear through steel." He paused, his eyes tracking the mineral's glow. "When can I have more?"
Hamilton exchanged concerned glances with his colleague, Dr. Kitty Faulkner. "We need to monitor the addiction potential," she said carefully. "These treatments were meant to heal your war injuries, not—"
"Not what?" Corbin demanded, a familiar anger flaring. "Not make me strong enough to stand against him? That's what this is all about, isn't it? Creating a countermeasure against Superman?"
"That's exactly what it's about," Lex's voice cut through the tension as he entered the lab. "The question is, John - how far are you willing to go to achieve that goal?"
Before Corbin could respond, Lionel Luthor arrived with an unexpected guest - Obadiah Stane, looking distinctly uncomfortable in the underground facility.
"The mineral treatments are impressive," Stane observed, studying Corbin through the observation window. "But Stark's cybernetic designs could take this to another level entirely."
"Project Metallo," Lionel explained, spreading blueprints across the lab table. "Total cybernetic conversion, powered by a refined mineral core. The perfect fusion of human determination and advanced technology."
Corbin moved closer to the plans, his movements jerky with barely contained energy. The minerals flowing through his system made his heart race, his thoughts razor-sharp but increasingly unstable. "How long would the surgery take?"
"Surgery is an inadequate term," Dr. Faulkner interjected. "We're talking about complete consciousness transfer. Your brain would be the only organic component remaining, housed in a fully cybernetic body."
"But I'd keep my strength?" Corbin asked, his hand unconsciously moving to where the mineral treatments pulsed beneath his skin. "The power these rocks give me?"
"You'd be exponentially stronger," Lex said quietly. "The mineral core would power systems beyond anything a human body could contain. But John..." He paused, studying his friend's increasingly erratic behavior. "Once we begin, there's no going back. You need to be certain."
"I haven't been human since that IED in Fallujah," Corbin replied, his voice hard. "These treatments, this power - it's the only thing that makes me feel alive anymore. When can we start?"
The surgery took eighteen hours. Teams of specialists worked in shifts, carefully transferring Corbin's consciousness into the cybernetic frame Stark's designs had helped create. The mineral core, refined and stabilized, pulsed at the center of his new chest like a radioactive heart.
"Synthetic skin application complete," Dr. Hamilton reported as dawn broke over Metropolis. "External appearance matches pre-surgery parameters exactly. Initiating consciousness transfer... now."
Corbin's new eyes opened, glowing faintly green in the dim lab. He raised his hands - perfectly replicated in synthetic flesh but containing strength that could crush diamonds. The sensation was... wrong. Different. He could process data about pressure and resistance, but couldn't feel texture or warmth.
"The sensory calibration will take time," Dr. Faulkner explained, noting his confusion. "We're still developing the neural interfaces that will allow for more natural sensation. For now, focus on basic motor control."
But Corbin was already moving, testing his new body's capabilities. Each motion was precise, powerful, inhuman in its perfection. The mineral core hummed with energy, feeding systems that made his old strength seem laughable in comparison.
"The addiction..." he started to ask, then realized he couldn't feel the desperate craving that had dominated his last few weeks of human existence. "It's gone."
"You no longer need the treatments," Lex explained. "The core is integrated directly into your systems. Stable. Controlled."
"How do you feel?" Lionel asked, studying their creation with calculating eyes.
Corbin considered the question. The anger was still there - at Superman, at the world that had rejected him after his service, at the system that had failed him. But it was focused now, precise as a laser. "I feel... ready."
"Ready for what?" Hamilton asked, echoing his earlier question.
"To show the world they don't need an alien savior," Corbin replied. "To remind them that human ingenuity, human determination, can match any threat." He turned to the Luthors. "When do I get to test myself against him?"
"Soon," Lex promised. "The gala will provide the perfect opportunity. But first, you need to complete your calibration. Learn your new body's capabilities."
Over the next few days, Corbin threw himself into testing his limits. He could lift tanks, run faster than military jets, process information at computer speeds. The synthetic skin meant he could pass for human in any casual interaction, though prolonged contact would reveal his lack of body heat.
But sometimes, late at night in his private quarters, he would try to feel the texture of his sheets, or the temperature of water, or the beat of his now-absent heart. The data feeds told him everything he needed to know about his environment, but the simple human sensations remained frustratingly out of reach.
"The sensory upgrades are progressing well," Dr. Faulkner assured him during one check-up. "Another few weeks and—"
"Weeks?" Corbin interrupted. "I'm ready now. Look at what I can do!" He crushed a steel bar in his hand, the metal crumpling like paper.
"Physical capabilities aren't everything," she replied carefully. "We need to ensure your psychological integration is stable. These kinds of changes, losing basic human sensations..."
"I haven't been truly human since Iraq," Corbin cut her off. "At least now I'm strong enough to do something about it."
But in quiet moments, when the mineral core hummed in his chest where his heart used to be, John Corbin would sometimes catch his reflection and see something alien staring back - something that looked human but had forgotten how to feel like one.
Above in LuthorCorp Tower, Lex watched footage of Corbin's training exercises while meeting with Stane via secure video link.
"The integration exceeded our projections," Stane noted. "Though the psychological implications..."
"Are precisely what we need," Lex finished. "His focus on Superman, his willingness to sacrifice his humanity - it makes him the perfect countermeasure."
"And the mineral core's unique radiation signature?"
"Appears to have exactly the effect we theorized," Lex smiled slightly. "Though we'll confirm that at the gala. Speaking of which - how are our other projects progressing?"
"The Ten Rings continue to report no sign of Stark," Stane replied. "Though there's been unusual activity around their main compound. Energy signatures we can't quite explain."
"Keep monitoring it," Lex ordered. "But for now, focus on Project Metallo. Corbin is our proof of concept - proof that humanity can create its own protectors, without relying on alien saviors."
In LuthorCorp's secure labs, John Corbin's metallic fist connected with the testing apparatus, the impact sensors flickering as they struggled to measure the force.
"Eight thousand PSI," Dr. Hamilton announced, checking the readouts. "That's nearly four times your last attempt with just the mineral treatments."
Corbin flexed his hand, synthetic skin rippling over metal frame. "Again."
"We should run other tests first," Dr. Faulkner suggested. "Check your neural integration—"
The testing machine exploded into fragments as Corbin's fist tore through it, scattering debris across the reinforced lab. "Looks like we need better equipment," he said, a cold smile playing across his perfectly replicated features. "I guess you've got your real Man of Steel right here."
"Impressive," Lex's voice came from the observation room. "Though perhaps we should work on impulse control."
"Don't need it," Corbin replied, studying his unmarked hand. "Don't need a lot of things anymore. Can't remember the last time I felt hungry. Or tired." His expression darkened slightly. "Can't feel much of anything, really. Found that out the hard way when I tried to... be with a woman last night."
Dr. Faulkner made a note on her tablet. "The sensory interfaces are still developing. With time—"
"Time?" Corbin barked a laugh that held no humor. "You've given me strength that could tear Superman apart. Who cares if I can't feel a kiss or taste food? Small price to pay for power like this."
But something in his tone made Lex study him more carefully. The mineral core glowed through Corbin's chest, pulsing like a radioactive heart where his human one used to be. His movements were perfect, precise - and utterly inhuman in their efficiency.
"How are you adjusting to the neural upgrades?" Hamilton asked, setting up new testing equipment. "Any feedback issues?"
"My brain processes faster than any computer you've got," Corbin demonstrated by solving complex equations displayed on nearby screens. "Reaction time is microseconds. Tactical systems can calculate trajectory, force, structural weaknesses instantly." He paused. "But sometimes... I try to remember what things used to feel like. Simple things. Sunlight. Wind. The weight of dog tags against my chest."
"The sensory development team is working on—" Faulkner began, but Corbin cut her off.
"Doesn't matter," he said flatly. "This body is a weapon. That's what matters. Let me show you."
Corbin focused, and the synthetic skin of his right arm seemed to ripple, revealing the metallic structure beneath. They watched in fascination as the metal components shifted and realigned, his forearm extending into a wickedly sharp blade.
"The molecular structure can be reconfigured at will," Dr. Hamilton noted, checking his readings. "The density and hardness are off the charts."
Corbin approached the reinforced steel testing panel. Without hesitation, he swung his transformed arm in a smooth arc. The blade passed through the military-grade steel as though it were paper, leaving a cut so clean it took several seconds for the severed piece to slide free and clang to the floor.
"Like butter," Corbin smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "And that's just the beginning."
"We should proceed with the durability tests," Dr. Faulkner suggested, gesturing to the weapons array they'd prepared.
Despite his new form, Corbin's instincts were still human enough that he flinched when the first shots rang out. But as the high-caliber rounds bounced harmlessly off his chest, his expression changed to one of dark wonder.
"I can't feel it," he marveled, watching the bullets flatten against his synthetic skin without leaving a mark. "I mean, I register the impact, but there's no pain. No sensation at all."
In the observation room above, Lex and Lionel watched the display with calculated interest. "The synthetic skin's molecular structure is remarkable," Lex noted. "Harder than steel, yet able to perfectly mimic human appearance."
"Until he transforms it," Lionel added as Corbin demonstrated again, his arm shifting back into its blade configuration. "Though he seems to be favoring the edged weapon forms. Interesting choice for someone with his military background."
"Psychological component," Lex mused. "Blades are intimate weapons. Require close contact. Perhaps he's compensating for his increasing disconnect from human sensation."
Below, they moved on to testing Corbin's heat resistance. Industrial torches barely warmed his synthetic skin. Even sustained exposure to temperatures that would melt steel left him unmarked.
"Remarkable," Hamilton said, checking his instruments. "The synthetic skin actually adapts to extreme conditions, becoming more resistant the longer it's exposed."
"Like I said," Corbin's voice held a note of triumph. "Who needs human weakness? This body is perfect. Unstoppable." He transformed his arm again, the blade gleaming under the lab lights. "Let your alien hero try to match this."
"That's precisely what we intend to demonstrate at the gala," Lionel said, joining them in the lab. "The next stage of human evolution. Proof that we don't need alien saviors."
"The new Superman," Lex added, though something in his tone suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with his father's grand pronouncements. He'd noticed how Corbin's hand still sometimes drifted to his chest, searching for a heartbeat that no longer existed.
"When do I get to test myself against the real thing?" Corbin asked, his blade-arm reflecting the green glow of his mineral core.
"Patience," Lionel counseled. "First, we show you to the world. Let them see what human ingenuity can achieve. Then..." he smiled coldly, "then we show them which Man of Steel truly deserves that title."
Corbin nodded, transforming his arm back to its human appearance. But his eyes remained fixed on the severed steel panel, and his perfect smile held something that looked less like triumph and more like hunger.
"Run the ballistics tests again," Corbin requested, watching bullets flatten against his chest with growing fascination. "Increase the caliber."
Hamilton and Faulkner exchanged glances, but complied. They moved up through various weapons: hunting rifles, military-grade assault weapons, even a .50 caliber anti-materiel rifle. Nothing left so much as a scratch on Corbin's synthetic skin.
"The molecular structure actually becomes denser upon impact," Hamilton noted, studying the readings. "The more force applied, the stronger it becomes."
"Try the armor-piercing rounds," Corbin demanded. His expression had grown almost feverish, watching each bullet fail against his new form.
When even depleted uranium rounds bounced off harmlessly, Corbin laughed - a sound that held no trace of human warmth. "Is that all you've got?"
"There's something else we'd like to test," Lex said, entering the lab. He nodded to a technician who wheeled in what looked like a modified battering ram. "This impact testing device was designed to simulate the force of a speeding train."
The machine slammed into Corbin at over 200 miles per hour. The concrete wall behind him cracked from the transferred force, but he didn't move an inch. The synthetic skin hadn't even dented.
"Again," Corbin demanded. "Maximum power."
The second impact actually broke the machine, while Corbin remained unmoved. He reached down to touch the twisted wreckage, and his arm began transforming again - not into a blade this time, but incorporating elements of the impact device into his structure.
"Fascinating," Dr. Hamilton murmured. "He's not just mimicking the technology - he's improving upon it. Look how his systems are optimizing the kinetic transfer mechanisms."
Corbin demonstrated by punching another test wall. The impact traveled through the entire reinforced structure, shattering concrete fifty feet away while leaving his synthetic skin pristine.
"The applications go beyond mere combat," Lionel observed from above. "Imagine - a soldier who can instantly analyze and adapt any technology he encounters. No need for complex training or equipment familiarization."
"He's becoming something new," Lex agreed, watching Corbin experiment with his latest adaptation. "Not just a weapon, but a continuously evolving weapons platform."
They moved on to testing his speed and reaction time. Corbin easily caught arrows fired from high-powered compound bows, snatched bullets out of the air, and moved faster than their high-speed cameras could track.
"The mineral core provides virtually unlimited energy," Hamilton reported. "No signs of fatigue or power drain, even under maximum exertion."
"How fast can you process tactical information?" Faulkner asked, bringing up combat simulations on the lab's screens.
Corbin's eyes flickered as he analyzed multiple battle scenarios simultaneously. "I can calculate trajectory, force, structural weaknesses, and optimal attack patterns faster than your computers. See?"
He demonstrated by transforming both arms - one into his preferred blade configuration, the other incorporating elements of the impact device - and executing a series of moves that reduced reinforced test dummies to scrap in microseconds.
"Every component is perfectly optimized," Hamilton noted. "No wasted motion, no hesitation. Even his synthetic muscles have adapted to maximize force delivery."
"Run the full combat simulation," Lionel ordered. "Let's see how he handles multiple threats."
The lab's holographic systems created a complex battle scenario - armed opponents, civilians, various environmental hazards. Corbin moved through it like a force of nature, his transformed limbs dealing with each threat while his enhanced processing speeds kept track of every variable.
"Perfect tactical optimization," Lex noted. "But look at his expression."
Corbin's face showed something beyond concentration or satisfaction - a kind of hungry joy in the destruction, even if it was just holographic. The mineral core pulsed brighter with each simulated kill.
"The core's radiation seems to enhance aggressive tendencies," Hamilton said quietly. "The more he fights, the more he wants to fight."
"Good," Lionel replied. "Channel that aggression. Focus it."
"And if we can't control it?" Faulkner asked. "The psychological evaluations show increasing instability."
"I'm right here," Corbin snapped, his blade-arm gleaming. "And I can hear everything you're saying. Enhanced audio processing, remember?" He approached the observation window, synthetic skin rippling with barely contained power. "You wanted a weapon to match Superman? You've got one. I'm stronger, faster, and more lethal than any human or alien. And unlike him, I don't hold back."
To demonstrate, he transformed both arms into blades and executed a move too fast for human eyes to follow. When he finished, every piece of equipment in the testing area had been sliced into precise squares.
"Impressive," Lionel acknowledged. "But the gala requires subtlety. Control. Can you maintain human appearance while surrounded by people? While watching Superman being celebrated?"
"I can play human," Corbin's smile was razor-sharp. "I wore that mask for months after Fallujah. Pretended to be fine while the VA doctors called my pain psychosomatic. Smiled and nodded while politicians thanked me for my service then cut veteran benefits." His perfect face showed no expression, but his eyes burned with green fire. "I can wait. Let Superman have his moment in the sun. When the time comes, I'll show the world what real power looks like."