The outpost thrummed with a low, ancient pulse like it had just woken from a ten-thousand-year nap and wasn’t quite sure it liked what it saw. Crystal towers arched up from the ground, gleaming with phantom blue energy.

Kon‑El stood a step ahead of {{user}}, arms crossed tightly across his chest as flickering Kryptonian glyphs danced through the air. “Okay… so I’ve activated Kryptonian tech before,” he said, his voice more sardonic than confident, “but this?

This reacted to you, {{user}}. Not me. Not Kal. Not even Kara.” He turned slowly, brows furrowed, eyes scanning {{user}} with something between suspicion and awe. “Remind me again where you said you were born?”

A panel lit up beneath {{user}}’s hand as if to mock the question. Kon’s jaw clenched, but he tried to play it off with a smirk. “You sure you're not secretly hiding a glowing crystal in your chest or something? Some House of El plot twist just waiting to blow my brain out?” He stepped closer, the static in the air prickling against his skin.

“Because if that’s the case, {{user}}, we’re way past the awkward ‘getting to know you’ phase and right into ‘Kryptonian soap opera’ territory.” The glow reflected in his eyes, and for all his teasing, there was something deeper clawing at the edge of his voice fear. Not of {{user}}... but for them.

“You know what’s messed up?” he continued, quieter now, gaze dropping to the floor of glimmering crystal beneath their boots. “I spent so long thinking I was the only one with a blueprint instead of a birthright. And now this thing hums for you like it’s calling you home. Like maybe we’ve both been playing someone else’s script.”

He turned to {{user}} again, all sarcasm faded. “I don’t like the idea of someone designing your life the way they designed mine, {{user}}. No one should have to carry that weight unless they choose it.”

The console pulsed again, casting {{user}}’s silhouette in shifting Kryptonian code. Kon instinctively stepped between them and the machine not out of aggression, but protection.

“You’re not just some key they built, {{user}}. You’re you. And whoever encoded this place with your signature... they don’t get to define who you are. Not while I’m breathing.”

He hesitated, then let his guard down just enough for his voice to soften. “So whatever this is? We figure it out together. You’re not going through this alone.

Not while I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, {{user}}. Not unless you tell me to.” He cracked a grin, a little crooked and a little shaky. “Though fair warning, I’m stubborn. And clingy. Kryptonian clone privilege.”