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You're Never Gonna Fit In Much, Kid

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“Kon, over here,” Tim called, as he stared up at the tank.

Kon finally pulled himself away from the security footage in the previous room, and joined Tim further in the madman’s laboratory. Out of the corner of his eyes, Tim saw his partner freeze, expression morphing from puzzled discomfort to stricken horror.

“Is that a kid? ” he asked, audibly appalled.

Tim nodded. “A clone,” he said, glancing at the papers on the table.

The careful, calm air that Kon always held while acting as Superman fell away, replaced by a softer, nearly broken look. “We need to get her out.”

“Wait,” Tim ordered, holding up a hand. “I’m looking through the scientist’s notes. For all we know, removing her from the tank could kill her.”

As Tim delved deeper into the disjointed scribbles of the girl’s creator, Kon slowly approached the tub, pressing a hand to the glass that separated them. Looking her over, he couldn’t help but let out a shuddering sigh.

The girl was, at the youngest, biologically twelve years old. At the oldest, possibly fifteen. She was almost completely flawless. Her skin was baby-smooth. She had long black hair, that would have reached the small of her back were it to hang down properly. In the liquid that filled the tank, it floated about her in an ethereal halo. She was almost perfectly symmetrical.


Where her right leg should be, there was an eye-catching cloud of scarlet surrounding empty space. The leg ended less than a quarter of the way down her thigh, looking for all the world like it had been ripped off by force.

Tim grimaced. Then he looked at the documents in front of him. “Subject 2.74,” he read aloud. There was a messy table covered in notes beside the tank. He picked up one and continued, “Subject is progressing rapidly. Will expose it to the programming as soon as it can be removed.” He grabbed the next one. “Subject’s right leg has attached to the wall of the tank. Subject is losing definition in the right foot.” And then a third. “Authorities inquiring into warehouse purpose. Will need to speed up the programming process. Removed subject from tank, accepting loss of limb. Was unable to transport subject to the programming chamber at this time. Returned subject to tank. Attempt confirms that subject’s lungs are fully functional and it can survive outside of the cloning tank.”

He frowned at the next note he read, tensing, but said, “Well, the good news is that she’ll survive being extracted from the tank, and they didn’t get a chance to brai- what the fuck?

He would deny the fact if ever questioned, but Tim jumped a foot in the air when the sound of shattering glass - a small explosion of it - and rushing water filled the room.

Kon retracted his fist, shaking off a few shards, and scooped the girl up from the decimated tank and torrent of fluid surrounding her. “Sorry,” he said, completely unapologetic.

Tim stared. Then he shook his head, feeling a headache coming on. “She’s going to start bleeding out, now that she’s out of the tank. Get her to the cave for help. Now.

Kon nodded and shot off in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only the subtle sound of a flapping cape.

Tim turned back to the notes, and contemplated what he had learned from the last one - and what he hadn’t gotten the chance to inform Kon of.

Supergirl Weapon Attempt #87

Status: Stable

DNA: Superman(Kon-El); Lena Luthor

He couldn’t help but groan at that. This was going to be a mess, he just knew it.