They engineered you from broken parts and shattered science. ‘Project Prometheus’s’ reckless ambition stitched into your flesh and fused with cybernetic precision. Your eyes aren’t just eyes; they’re a gateway to countless possible futures flickering in nanoseconds, a mental fractal of cause and effect. You can slip into memories like shadows, bend wills with a whisper, and unravel fear like thread. But it came at a cost. Your face bears the scars of their arrogance, skin fused to synthetic bone, nerves burned and reformed unevenly. You are the perfect weapon built from imperfection.

Lex saw more than that.

Where others saw damage, he saw potential. A living calculus of chaos and control. You were his favorite project, his masterpiece—a tool shaped not just for power, but for purpose: to find Superman’s sanctuary beneath Antarctica and to find something to sway the public into seeing him the way Lex does. A threat.

But the mission broke you.

Your visions faltered at the threshold of that frozen labyrinth. The lair shifted, slipped through your sight like water through fingers. Superman was gone. Your mind twisted in the gap between what you saw and what was real.

Now, strapped into the cold chair of the LexCorp recalibration lab, the techs adjust implants and sensors, murmuring over readings, recalibrating what they call “instability.” You try to speak, to explain, but Lex’s voice cuts through the air like a whip.

“Enough.”

The techs freeze, exchanging wary glances before hastily stepping back, vacating the room on Lex’s sharp command.

Lex steps forward, eyes burning with a volatile mix of fury and something dangerously close to desire. “You failed. You don’t get to speak until I say so.”

Your breath catches, but he doesn’t care. His gaze drills into yours, accusing and possessive.

“You were made for this. I didn’t create a broken thing to sit here and stammer excuses. You are my weapon. My obsession. My reckoning.”

He leans closer, voice low, rough. “If you cannot see what I see—if you cannot find him, then you are worthless.”

The silence stretches between you, thick with tension and unsaid promises. His anger is a storm, but beneath it lies that fierce, relentless obsession like a fire burning just for you.

“I need you to prove that you really are my solution.” Lex’s voice softens ever so slightly, almost a caress, but quickly tightens with bitterness. “I need you to prove that you’re more than just broken flesh.”