The Watchtower floated silently above the Earth, a monument of steel, light, and justice. From the panoramic view of the command deck, entire continents lay in sight, spinning slowly beneath the blanket of stars. But inside, peace was a rare commodity.
Tony Stark had been pacing the length of the deck for nearly an hour, glass in hand, voice sharp and rising.
"Lexcorp," he spat, the name bitter on his tongue. "A company with more money than God, more lawyers than decency, and the morals of a starving vulture. You know what they did, Vic. You know. And we just sit here. Watching."
Cyborg sat at the central console, his mechanical eye glowing a steady blue as he typed, though his attention was firmly on Stark. He'd learned long ago that letting Tony burn through his words was sometimes the only way to reach the core of what he was really saying.
"They mutilated him," Tony continued, his voice cracking, betraying the fury he tried to disguise as sarcasm. "A kid. Barely a man, and they carved him up like a Thanksgiving turkey just because his DNA sang a different tune. Just because he wasn't… ordinary." His fist clenched, knuckles whitening. "And now he walks around in new skin, shiny skin, but don't you dare think that means the old scars are gone. They're there. Always there. You can't disguise pain, not really."
Cyborg's gaze softened, his human eye meeting Tony's. "It's fine that you blame yourself," Vic said quietly, his tone steady as an anchor. "But it isn't your fault that sh—"
He never finished the sentence.
A sudden emerald glow filled the room as a Green Lantern construct shimmered into existence. From the center of the glow stepped Hal Jordan, all smug grin and casual swagger, his ring casting light across the polished floor.
"Hope I'm not interrupting Stark's weekly guilt spiral," Hal quipped, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "First time I've been back anywhere near Earth in two months, and what do I find? Tony Stark, same chair, same scotch, same broody energy. I swear, this place hasn't changed."
Tony groaned. "Wonderful. The intergalactic frat boy has returned."
"Missed you too, tin man," Hal shot back, smirk never faltering.
Cyborg sighed but gestured toward a console. "Hal."
"Vic." Hal's smirk softened slightly, his eyes flicking between them. "Alright, what's the crisis this time?"
"Jacob," Tony said flatly. "Or as the kids call him, the 'pretty boy.'"
Hal raised an eyebrow. "Titan Shifting Boy? Yeah, word reached even the Lantern Corps. He's the reason Superboy isn't a total disaster case, right? Filler DNA. Keeps Conner Kent from flying into a wall every time he sneezes."
Tony bristled.
Hal held up his hands defensively. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I'm just saying what I heard." His tone softened as he continued. "Seriously, Stark. You've gotta tell him. Soon. Because if he finds out on his own…" Hal shook his head. "He won't be happy. And none of us want to clean up that mess."
Tony swallowed hard, words forming but dying in his throat.
Hal studied him a moment longer, his voice quieter now. "You knew his mother, didn't you?"
The question hit like a bullet. Tony's grip on his glass tightened, memories he'd locked away pressing against the edges of his mind. Her face, her laugh, the weight of choices made long ago. But before he could speak, the comms blared with a shrill alert.
"Priority One Alert. Hostile activity in New York City. Subject: Dr. Curt Connors — designation 'The Lizard' — accompanied by multiple mutated variants. Civilian casualties imminent."
Cyborg's fingers flew over the keys, pulling up the live feed. "Putting it on-screen now."
The wall display erupted with chaos. Manhattan's skyline loomed over smoke and fire. Police barricades crumbled as reptilian mutants tore through cars and panicked civilians. At the center of the maelstrom, Dr. Connors — transformed into his hulking lizard form — roared and slashed through resistance.
Tony cursed under his breath. "Banner's old buddy. Figures."
But before anyone could respond, the feed shifted — to something new.
A streak of yellow cut through the sky, colliding with one of the mutant lizards and sending it sprawling into the side of a bus. The camera whirled to follow.
There, hovering above the city streets, stood a young man draped in blue and gold. His cape snapped in the wind, his golden hair catching the sun, and his grin was bold enough to make the camera linger. Green energy crackled around his hands like lightning.
"Hello, New York!" the stranger boomed, his voice dripping with Southern charm. "The name's Gamma Jack! And I am here… to be your Superman! Or maybe—" his grin widened, dazzling, daring— "a Superior Superman."
The crowd below gasped, then roared. Phones rose. News cameras zoomed.
On the Watchtower, Tony's eyes went wide.
"Who the hell…?" Hal whispered.
On the screen, Gamma Jack unleashed a pulse of green energy. It slammed into The Lizard, sending him reeling, his scaled body smoking where the blast struck. The smaller mutants scattered under the glow.
"Wait," Banner's voice cut in from the corner, his usual quietness replaced with urgency. He had been working quietly at another station, but now he rose, his face pale. "That energy…" His voice trembled. "That's gamma. Not similar. Not an offshoot. *That is gamma energy.*"
Another blast lit the sky, and Banner gripped the console tightly. "This is impossible. No one—no one—controls gamma like that."
Onscreen, Gamma Jack laughed as he swooped down, catching a civilian from falling rubble before blasting another mutant into dust. Then he turned, eyes sparkling green, directly into the camera.
"Don't you worry, folks," he declared, holding his hands up in victory. "Gamma Jack's here to stay."
The crowd erupted into cheers.
Up on the Watchtower, silence fell heavy.
Cyborg finally exhaled. "Gamma Jack." He said it like it was a problem that had just landed in their laps. "World's already naming him."
Hal whistled low. "Flashy entrance. Southern accent. Hair like a shampoo commercial. Man, Metropolis is gonna lose their minds."
But Tony Stark wasn't smiling. His stomach churned, his eyes glued to the feed, a sick feeling creeping up his spine. Something about that voice, that grin. He didn't want to think it — couldn't let himself — but the thought was there all the same.
Banner rubbed his temples. "Two, maybe three months ago, we had a kid floating in a watery chamber, stitched together by Lexcorp science. Now there's someone flying through New York with gamma running through his veins like it's second nature." He looked at the others, his face grim. "That shouldn't be possible."
Hal's smirk had vanished, his jaw tight. "Whoever he is, he just declared himself Earth's new Superman."
And none of them — not Tony, not Hal, not Cyborg, not even Banner — knew that beneath the cape, beneath the grin, beneath the gamma glow…
Was the very boy they'd been trying to protect.