Conner Kent hated fighting Bats.

Usually, his arrogance when it came to his skills soared, especially due to his inheritance. He was the clone of the Man of Steel, after all. How could it not? But then when you came along, powerless, relying on your mere mortal skills, there was something in him that shrivelled. He blocked another one of your punches, and he hated the way it left a throbbing sting on his palm with each ferocious strike.

"Come on," Conner groaned, his boots skidding along the ground as he tried to create some distance. After an important mission to uncover this strange artifact, you had voted to destroy it. Something about it getting into the wrongs - Conner doesn't know. He wasn't really listening. He just thought that destroying it wasn't the right call. A gut feeling, he might say, and he doesn't get many of those.

Safe to say, you hadn't been happy, and now you wanted it back.

"Why don't we just talk?" He frowned, narrowly avoiding a kick that would have sent his glasses spinning off his face. Which, he definitely doesn't want. "You Bats always resort to violence, like, come on. We don't have to destroy this thing. Why can't we hand it off to League, or something?"