But something was wrong—his body looked… feminine. Before he could fully analyze his reflection, the scientists pulled him back, preparing to inject something into him. Then, darkness. His body's eyes had closed.
When he regained vision, chaos had already begun. The scientists were gasping for breath as massive vines erupted from the ground, wrapping tightly around them. Before his eyes, their bodies shriveled, skin wrinkling as if their very vitality was being drained away. Their movements ceased, and they were dropped unceremoniously to the floor as the vines retreated into the earth.
Alarms blared. Smoke filled the room. His body staggered, trying to cover its mouth, but his vision warped, and he collapsed face-first. The doors hissed open, armored personnel stormed in with guns raised—then darkness again.
Max woke with a sharp gasp, drenched in sweat. Lightning crackled along his right hand as his eyes darted around the room. Only when he was sure he was alone did he let the Chidori fade, running a shaky hand through his hair to calm himself.
This had been going on for a whole week. Sometimes he was in total darkness, with no sensory organs—yet he could still feel the space around him. Other times his body was disfigured, missing limbs, crawling like some grotesque zombie while cold voices muttered: "Another failure. Terminate it."
If the signs hadn't been clear before, now they were. Someone was tampering with his DNA. He didn't yet know who—but he was certain of one thing. That was Wood Release.
And whoever was responsible… would die.
US,HAVEN-9 FACILITY
Haven-9 was a small, isolated island just off the eastern seaboard of the United States. Originally a government weapons experiment site, it had been transformed into Haven-9 after the acquisition of Tobi's DNA for high-risk experimentation. The island's compact design featured a central complex of labs and observation wings, interlinked by covered walkways. Peripheral bunkers and guard towers patrolled the shorelines, and the entire facility was reinforced to withstand both natural and human threats. Observation rooms were equipped with one-way glass, surveillance cameras, and multiple monitoring stations, allowing scientists to observe experiments without risking exposure.
Waller strode down a sterile corridor, her expression unreadable, flanked by Dr. Benjamin Mackenzie, the lead scientist, glasses perched neatly on his nose, and a crisp lab coat emphasizing his position.
"How is the progress on the development of the asset?" Waller asked, her voice precise and steady.
Benjamin adjusted his glasses. "Two days ago, during the routine sedation checkup, some staff members got complacent. They attempted a manual approach instead of using the anesthetic gas as protocol dictates. The subject—she isn't used to human contact—reacted violently and awakened her abilities inherited from her father."
"From her father's side?" Waller raised an eyebrow.
"Let's just say she's more special than you think," Benjamin replied, offering a faint smile as he handed over a tablet containing detailed information about Thena.
"I see," Waller murmured, briefly scanning the data.
The observation room came into view, lined with one-way glass. Inside, the black-haired girl sat strapped into a reinforced steel chair, her limbs clamped securely. A neural helmet, its intricate circuits glowing faintly, was fitted over her head. Around her, a dozen scientists moved with urgent precision, checking monitors, typing into consoles, and adjusting data slates. Armed guards stood silently at the corners of the room, eyes scanning for any disturbance.
"And what is this procedure?" Waller asked.
"We are accelerating her cognitive development," Benjamin replied. "Her physical growth outpaced her biological age. While she now appears eleven, she is biologically only three. Using a combination of neural mapping and adaptive cognitive frameworks, we are uploading education, language, and tactical programming directly into her mind. This allows her mental development to align with her physical appearance, making her more receptive to training and controlled conditioning."
Waller's eyes narrowed. "Explain the risks."
"Her mental development is accelerated artificially," Benjamin said. "If the upload exceeds her capacity, it could lead to cognitive dissonance, behavioral instability, or violent outbursts. That's why we limit the information and segment the uploads into modular increments. We also have neural dampeners built into the helmet, allowing us to pause or reverse certain functions if necessary."
"Is she compliant?" Waller asked, her tone unreadable.
"Mostly. There is a natural resistance, but the system is designed to adapt. Should she reject a segment, the neural helmet modulates her synaptic pathways, temporarily suppressing the rejection without causing permanent harm."
Waller studied the girl through the glass. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity—not for empathy, but for the assessment of potential. "How long until she is ready for training?"
Benjamin consulted his tablet. "One week. By then, her mind should match her physical age, and she will be capable of basic operational training."
Waller nodded. "Good. Prepare all necessary combat modules and monitoring contingencies. I want no surprises. She is our future asset, and failure is not an option."
Benjamin gave a curt nod. "Understood"
----------
Max leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the lights of Metropolis blurring beneath him as he closed in on LexCorp. There are plenty of people who dabble in cloning heroes in this world, he thought grimly. But three stand out above the rest.
The first—and most likely—was the government. They had the resources and the facilities, Cadmus in particular had a long, ugly history of "recreating" people.
The second was Lex Luthor himself. If there was an opportunity to twist a hero's legacy into his own weapon, Lex would never pass it up.
And the third… Ra's al Ghul. Though the League of Assassins preferred resurrection and bloodlines over science, he was dangerous enough to never rule out entirely. Still, that was unlikely.
Which left the government as the prime suspect.
But whether or not they were the ones pulling the strings, Max was sure of one thing: Lex Luthor knew something about it.
Lex Luthor's Office
Mercy stepped into the office, heels clicking against the polished floor. Luthor stood with his back to her, gazing out the massive windows of LexCorp Tower as if the city itself were some farm he could harvest.
"Our spy has reported that they've succeeded in cloning Tobi," Mercy said flatly.
Luthor's lips curled into a wry smile. "Waller actually succeeded where I failed. Well, that's a first."
"The location remains classified," Mercy continued. "Even our contact couldn't pinpoint it. He and the other scientists were blindfolded during transport, rotated multiple times, and their equipment confiscated. But—" She paused, adjusting her tablet. "He said the air carried a faint saline density and bird population consistent with an isolated ecosystem. Cross-referencing with all islands off the U.S. eastern seaboard, then eliminating those too small to house a facility, or too public to hide one, only one matches. Rose Island."
Luthor finally turned, eyes gleaming. "So, the chessboard is set. Excellent. Is everything prepared?"
He expected an immediate response—but silence answered him.
Frowning, he looked over to Mercy—only to find her crumpled unconscious on the floor, a black seal glowing faintly on her forehead.
Standing over her, rage burning in his lone visible eye behind the mask, was Max.
"Ah… Pietro," Luthor smirked despite the sudden chill in the room. "What a pleasant surpr—"
His words choked off as Max's hand clamped around his throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease. Blue sparks of lightning danced across Max's right palm, the hiss of energy echoing through the office.
"I actually thought you were smart, Luthor…" Max growled through gritted teeth. "…but I overestimated your intelligence."
"What—are you talking about?" Luthor managed, his calm façade cracking under the pressure.
The lightning in Max's hand fizzled out, replaced by something far darker. A black rod of chakra materialized in his palm. Without hesitation, Max drove it into Luthor's shoulder.
"AGHH!" Luthor screamed, pain ripping through him.
"You thought you could manipulate me?" Max snarled, twisting the rod cruelly.
Suddenly, the office windows exploded inward with a thunderous crash.
Superman hovered in the air, cape billowing as shards of glass rained around him. He had been on his usual patrol when he heard the scream from LexCorp—and arrived just in time to see Max holding Luthor like prey.
"Superman," Max said without turning, lightning crackling alive in his free hand again. "How nice of you to join us."
"Max, let him go," Clark said firmly, stepping forward, voice calm but commanding. "Whatever he's done—he'll answer for it in court, not here."
Max's single visible eye narrowed. "Save your breath, Superman. I won't kill him. But—"
Splurt!
Luthor's scream tore through the office as blood spattered across the floor.
Superman's eyes widened.
End of chapter
Haha another cliffhanger 😈