[ @linecrossed ]
-- GLOVED FINGERS tinkered in blood and mechanics. A strange mix of screwdrivers and forceps lay on a sanitary tray. The organic and the machine working in tandem.
Lex peered inside as the doctors pointed out different mechanisms or devices. On display, some frog on a slab but very much ALIVE. Lex tried not to make eye contact, opting to focus on his notepad. Yellow legal paper was dotted with red thumbprints. Easier to handle when he just focused on the science of it. Detached, methodical.
(Somewhere along the line, this had gone from stomach churning to simply disquieting. Haha, wouldn’t Superman have something to say about that?)
The boy was a cyborg, but a different type than the ones he’d encountered in the past. Sleek, hidden-in-plain-sight. An exoskeleton covered in false skin, a human trapped in a machine trapped inside another human. It was a fascinating concept, one he hadn’t considered before. Very... Superman, wasn’t it? To look so human but be so different underneath. Power and strength and durability.
It was why he’d contacted DARPA in the first place, to share ideas (and funding, of course, there was always a bottom line to these things) for his Everyman project. To turn humans into gods, to let them stand toe-to-to with those damned capes that pretended to have the best interests of we ‘tiny humans’ at heart.
“Can I talk to him?” Lex asked, flipping his notebook closed. He blanched at the placid face and the contrast of the vicera and clockwork below. “Not immediately. I can wait for you to patch him up. I’m sure he’d respond better to my questions that way.” He added, maybe a little too quickly for Stewart’s tastes. Big Bad Luthor was squeamish, wasn’t that a sight?
