3095/On the Path to NOWHERE: Lab Results

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On the Path to NOWHERE: Lab Results
Date of Scene: 25 August 2020
Location: Level 1 - Labs - The Roost
Synopsis: Conner's genetic identity is discovered! Superman offers contraceptive tips. Nothing about this log is comfortable for anyone.
Cast of Characters: Tim Drake, Clark Kent, Conner Kent




Tim Drake has posed:
They say it is team work that makes the dream work, but by Tim's estimation, it's actually lab work. Lots of it. Tim is almost more at home in the labs than he is jumping across rooftops by night, and of late he's spent about as much time doing both. Classes at Gotham State University (and Empire State up in New York, for that matter) start next week and he's already not sure where he'll find time for them between every other ball he's keeping in the air.

He's been running a lot of tests lately, the lab equipment humming away even when he's been out on patrol, sleeping, or otherwise occupied outside the labs. The door to the computer lab is propped open with a bat-shaped doorstop, most of the screens flashing and scanning with a few subroutines he had set up a couple hours prior. Tim himself is in the main labs, half-in and half-out of costume: his domino mask is on, providing him a heads up display and additional scanners... his left gauntlet is on, and already shifted into the hardlight computer mode, the 'screen' floating a couple inches above his wrist... but otherwise he's in lightweight navy sweatpants, a set of worn-out trainers, and a white tank top edged in bright green. Casual, but likely because he's on hour five in the labs for today, and that was after he got in from a fairly eventful patrol.

About 20 minutes ago, he had sent a text out to both Conner and Superman with 'hey, I found something I think you MIGHT be interested in. No rush. Down in the labs at the base whenever.' complete with a tiny Red Robin emoji face at the end as a signature. Someone has had too much time on his hands. Or not enough. He gets a bit punchy when he hasn't slept much.

After sending out that text, he sets up another round of samples spinning in the centrifuge, checks about half a dozen other in-progress scans or experiments, and then moves over to the chemical hood to start tinkering with a new varient of ignition for his flame staff. He's doing about ten things at once, here, and it's probably only going to get worse the more sleep-deprived he gets. Probably a good thing (or not) Rose hasn't come looking for him yet. Not that she can't usually guess in one where he's holed himself up.

Clark Kent has posed:
'No rush' is good. Tim isn't the only one spinning a lot of plates, after all. Hurricanes down in the Caribbean mean lost ships and flood victims to rescue, wildfires in California mean cutting heat-vision firebreaks, and for some Rao-forsaken reason, Superman also had to make an orbital trip to deal with a blimp someone unceremoniously deposited on the moon. Didn't even have the decency to put down cinder blocks: there's a big silly dent in the formerly pristine lunar regolith, now.

Still, 'no rush' for a Kryptonian is not what other people would consider 'no rush.' Tim would be lucky to get a pizza delivered in the short interval it takes for Superman to arrive at the Roost. He uses one of the team entrances this time, rather than further risking Tim's civilian cover by arriving at his house again. It's maybe a little bit rude to have mapped those out already, but it's a relatively minor liberty to take in the name of respecting another hero's secrecy.

He hovers his way through the base to save time, only fully touching down when he arrives at the entrance. He glances down at the novelty doorstop with a smile, and announces his presence with an amused, "I've got one of those, too. But mine's the Wonder Woman crest." He continues past the door with soft footsteps and asks conversationally, "So, what did you find, Tim?"

Conner Kent has posed:
College starts next week, but Conner has already been hanging out on campus. Many students are back to the dorms, and the place is getting lively again. That is a good thing, since it means the can make the trip to Gotham in 20 minutes (with a few spare). If Tim had caught him in Hawaii, there is no way he could have made it back at the present power levels.

As it is, he takes a minute to see if there is anyone else at the roost before showing up at the lab. That means saw Clark arriving. Although he used a different entrance. The place has too many. "Hey," he greets. He also throws an alarmed glance at Tim when Superman can't see him. Why is the Big Man here? "Wonder Woman crest door?" Dorks. Both of them.

Tim Drake has posed:
Kryptonian arrivals are effectively old hat to him now, so the sudden appearance of his best friend and Superman barely even seem to register as Tim continues to tinker with what's under the hood. "Moment. Volitile chemicals..." and he jostles it a bit much, and what he's working on bursts into flames (though a small one) and instantly snuffs out. Thanks, lab safety precautions. Tim mutters a curse under his breath, and then turns back from the hood, catching Conner's look.

"Superman, I texted you too because what I have for Conner is super weird, and I figured you might either have a better idea of what to do with this, or at least more insight. But you'll see in a sec." Tim pops off his domino mask, tossing it lightly on one of the tables and slides off his gauntlet to put beside it. He reaches under the table and a hardlight screen pops up over the table itself. Tim calls up some lab results.

For the science-inclined, it's bloodwork.

"So, Conner, I took the liberty of using some of that blood you put all over medbay to look into a couple of questions I had. First and foremost being about your human side. We know you're half-Kryptonian." Tim leans back against the table behind him, crossing his arms. "But that means you're half human. And in my experience and from the data I have about previous weird clone stuff... I came to the logical conclusion the female genetic donor tissue was likley either from one of two sources, either another captive metahuman the scientists at NOWHERE are working on, or, more likely, one of the scientists themselves."

He shrugs. "You wanted me to find these people. I figured a name of some geneticist who decided to Mom you might be useful to that end."

Clark Kent has posed:
"Hey there, Conner!" Superman may have mistaken Conner's snarky comment about his doorstop for genuine interest, because as soon as he has greeted him, he launches into a pleased little explanation. "Oh, yeah, it's the twin W's with the little wings, and the points at the bottom are the part you wedge under the door," he says. "I use it for my pantry; the red and gold color scheme goes really well with the wood stain on the kitchen cabinets. I considered Captain America's shield, but I've already got a waffle iron with that, and I didn't want to make my kitchen too theme-y."

There's a bit of a knowing smile on his face as he finishes -- there's a possibility he's playing up the dorkiness to gently mess with Conner, or maybe to lighten the mood. Superman can be nearly as hard to read as Batman, when he wants to be. Still, the serious topic Tim brings up quickly captures his full attention.

"Smart," he says, with a tone of warm approval. "They might have to have the donor handy if they were trying to hybridize human and Kryptonian DNA in a lab -- I'd imagine that kind of experimentation would result in all kinds of failed attempts and re-trials. I guess we just have to hope our scientist is either in a criminal database or tried one of those ancestry kits." Shameful, how lax those companies are with their data security.

Conner Kent has posed:
Oh god. The urge of facepalm. Super-facepalm.

"Eh, Wonder Woman is awesome," Conner comments in a non-compromising way. Then he looks at Tim oddly. He is not sure he wants to know who is his 'mom' to be honest. "Kara actually knew a scientist that worked for N.O.W.H.E.R.E. years ago," he mentions.

Unlikely she is his mom, if she is Kara's friend. But maybe she knows names. But it looks as if Tim has already found something. "Oh well. I don't know. Getting genetic material is pretty easy nowadays. But if they were looking for compatible genetics, that might be one on a million humans, or less. That would require a massive genetic data bank, right?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim glances from Conner to Superman. "Well, not a super villain," he does say carefully. "And I actually got the hit on the DNA from the Metropolis Hospital database." Which is supposed to be secure, and HIPPA and all. But Hey, Bats are gonna Bat, and kind of like borrowing Conner's blood without actually talking to him for these tests, sometimes Bats just go for the most expedient way to glean information, even if it isn't entirely the most ethical.

"Problem is, I'm a bit confused... not a villain. Not a scientist. In fact, I don't even think she's a metahuman." He unfolds his arms to scratch the back of his head ruefully. "She's actually a journalist."

Clark Kent has posed:
At those last two words, jokey nerdy funtimes are over. Superman stares at the hard-light readout and frowns, deeply. "A journalist in Metropolis," he echoes, so evenly that there's not even enough of a pitch shift to put a question mark on it. He doesn't sound skeptical. He doesn't sound puzzled. He sounds ... oddly detached, actually. He crosses his arms across his broad chest and waits for the woman's identity to be revealed.

Conner Kent has posed:
"That is funny," comments Conner. He is not angry Tim took his blood without asking. He is the closest thing he had to a doctor, after all. Although now he thinks about it, Superman's secret glass castle in the pole probably has a (super) infirmary.

"Before you say that must be the reason I am studying journalism. No, it is not genetic," he grunts, finding a chair to sprawl upon. "Tana convinced me it was a good idea. I mean, knowing the facts, research like a detective, but to uncover the truth for those who need to know, learn to communicate with people well. That is what I want." And that is not funny either, thinking about Tana Moon.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Yeah. In fact, the only real connection this journalist seems to, you know, anything remotely making sense here?" Tim glances at Superman. "You. That's the main reason I called you in. She writes a lot of articles about superheroes, supervillains... gets in over her head enough that for some reason, Superman has saved her once or twice." That's a slight understatement. "So I got to wondering..."

"...how and why did NOWHERE get Lois Lane's DNA, and for what purpose would they make a Super-clone from it?" His expression is flat, even if his eyes are curious. Not salciously so, but more an almost exact-mimcry of what Bruce's might be in the same situation. Curious, with the wheels turning. Why, how, when, where, every question that might be answered and yet lead to others. He doesn't mention some of the other things he had looked into when he had first discovered this information, why it had taken him so long to say something-- those paths or speculation were more likely to garner nothing but upset from all parties. No, he just recrosses his arms and observes them both.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Journalism is a fine career to pursue," Superman says, absently, and again: the approving encouragement one might expect to reverberate in the big blue boy scout's voice just isn't there. The clinical neutrality of his words is so at odds with Superman's well-known, customary warmth that it's a little bit unsettling to hear, like a bright blue sky that you suddenly realize doesn't have a sun in it.

He simply watches as Tim works through his preamble and then drops the name in question. There's no reaction, no thudding realization, no shock or recognition or objection. He just listens, blinks a couple of times, and thinks over what Tim is saying for a long time before he responds.

When he does, it's to ask calmly, "Conner, do you have any indication that time travel might be involved in the project that created you? Lois Lane is a formidable journalist, but not, to my knowledge, someone of any metahuman significance." With an air of thoughtful speculation, he continues, "She is too oddly specific a choice to be random, as Tim says. She operates in the same city I do; she's a known public figure, and certainly not involved in such a project. There are a million people whose genetic material would be easier to acquire, so it stands to reason that she must have been selected. Perhaps the reason is something that simply hasn't been revealed yet."

Conner Kent has posed:
"Lois Lane? Tana loved Lois Lane, she was one of her heroes," and Conner did already know the name from the time he lived in Metropolis, of course. But why and how did she come to end used by an evil organization trying to mix human and kryptonian DNA? "NOWHERE had a lab near Metropolis. I guess they must have been taken samples? How did you get her genetics anyway?"

Then Superman brings time travel. But Conner, unfortunately, didn't stay long enough to investigate the origin of NOWHERE's super-tech. "Time travel? I don't know. Why?"

Clark Kent has posed:
"Like I said, she must have some significance, but as of now, she hasn't displayed any," Superman answers, voice still carrying nothing across. "Perhaps it's something that will be revealed in the future. That would also explain NOWHERE's advanced technology."

He's walking a fine line, here: /he/ knows exactly Lois's significance in metahuman affairs -- so to speak. He also knows that when Conner was created, she didn't have any, unless a closely guarded attraction could possibly qualify. And yet today, they're involved. His greatest dread is the possibility that one day, that might become generally known; his dearest hope is that one day, they might start a family together. Either might explain Conner's genetic heritage, but both are hidden in the unknown yet-to-come.

From that knowledge, Superman has reverse-engineered a plausible line of logic to speculate about time travel, without revealing his identity or his ties to Lois. If he were a lesser man, this would be giving him a headache.

Conner Kent has posed:
"That is a possible explanation, I guess," Conner is not going to disregard time travel when one of his best friends is a time traveler. "It could also be they took a lot of alien tech from the Invasion. But... hrm, maybe they came together too quickly." He looks at Robin for confirmation.

What else could link to the future? Oh... Kandor. "Did Kara tell you I can understand Kryptonian?" Because it seems very, very unlikely three+ years ago a bunch of human mad scientists knew enough Kryptonian to program the knowledge in his mind.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim just looks back and forth between them, squinting slightly at Superman. He opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. "Time travel might be an option. But..." he frowns. "Uh, I'm going to just... throw the elephant in the room out here. If we're talking time travel, then that indicates that you have reason to suspect in the future that Conner... or at least a single genetic donor that would later...earlier?... become Conner..."

Tim lets out a breath. "Might be your true and biological son, created normally as opposed to in a set of test tubes with a half dozen Bizzaros." He points to Conner. "//This// is an example of something we keep as secure information. If this is the case, then Conner's existence may rely on Ms. Lane's continued safety and existence."

Clark Kent has posed:
"No, I had no idea you knew Kryptonian. That's also very odd," Superman says with a frown. "The only comprehensive language course is in the sunstone simulator -- the computer I showed you in the Fortress of Solitude. The only native speaker left is my cousin. Whoever set up your education simulations has knowledge far beyond what is available to anyone today -- much less years ago."

Tim's continued speculation wins him an exceedingly rare prize: a dark look from the Man of Steel. "I was actually suggesting that she might turn out in the future to have metahuman abilities, or to be uniquely suited to gene-splicing with Kryptonians," he says, flatly renouncing Tim's line of thinking. "But I'll humor you, I suppose. If we're talking the future, basically nothing can be ruled out. It might be possible that this woman and I have children in the future -- if, that is, basic biology doesn't prevent it."

Conner Kent has posed:
"I am not a biologist, but two different species, from different planets," wait, that is not right. Two nearly identical species from different planets. Conner runs his hands through his hair. "Actually, is there any known explanation for Kryptonians look so much like humans? I know it is not just Kryptonians, too. Look at those Kree. A fair number of humanoid species are way too alike. Among them, humans. But are them genetically compatible?"

Sometimes one could almost believe about those crazy sci-fi ideas of the sixties about a common elder-race ancestor, right? Or the divine design of space gods, for the religious. Definitely something is afoot with that.

"What I mean is? How much genetic engineer do you need to make a human-kryptonian hybrid?" He looks at Superman. "Or could we just... uh, get kids with humans like normal?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim is SO not here for the birds and the bees talk with Conner, and his sudden widening of his eyes and immediately turning to the screen to pay attention to literally anything else (as he calls up one of his other projects in progress) is where he is at right now because wew man should he leave?

Clark Kent has posed:
"Convergent evolution is generally the explanation for alien species with similar physical types," Superman offers. "When nature finds a form it likes, sometimes different species end up finding their way to it. Someone once described it to me as "every few millennia, evolution reinvents the crab. In our specific case, though, it's no accident. My father sought out a planet with a dominant species I would be able to blend in with physically. As for reproducing with humans naturally..."

Superman's brow creases. It's a question he has thought about, but not conclusively answered. "Physical resemblance doesn't mean genetic compatibility, but in the end we don't know until we, ah, try." He's unable to avoid thinking about Conner's disheveled, lipstick-smeared appearance when they first met, weeks ago. "So, just in case, um. Use protection."