In DC/Young Justice with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix and a Chat Group

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Wayne Manor as I reviewed the documentation I'd prepared for Batman.

The report struck the perfect balance - detailed enough to satisfy his analytical mind while obscuring the true nature of Superboy's "training."

I'd emphasized physiological development and natural maturation of Kryptonian DNA rather than the targeted genetic modifications I was actually performing.

"Breakfast is served, Master Samael," Alfred announced from my doorway, his timing impeccable as always. "Master Bruce is awaiting your report in the dining room."

"Thank you, Alfred," I replied, gathering the tablet containing my carefully crafted deception. "I've just finished."

The manor's long corridors were silent as I made my way to the dining room, my footsteps echoing against the polished floors. Bruce sat at the head of the table, newspaper in hand, the picture of normalcy - if you ignored the calculating intelligence behind his eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted, setting aside the paper as I entered. "I trust you've prepared the documentation we discussed?"

"Complete with progression metrics and projected development timelines," I confirmed, sliding the tablet across the table.

Bruce picked it up, his expression revealing nothing as he scanned the contents. "Interesting approach. Your emphasis on 'cellular activation' is particularly novel."

Translation: I know you're doing something more than standard training.

"Superboy's Kryptonian physiology responds differently to conventional methods," I explained smoothly. "His cells have remarkable adaptive potential when properly stimulated."

Bruce nodded, continuing to read. "And these 'neural pathway developments' - they account for the improved control I witnessed yesterday?"

"Exactly," I confirmed. "By focusing on neural integration rather than raw power, we're helping his brain optimize connections to his existing abilities."

Not technically a lie - the genetic modifications were indeed optimizing neural connections, just through more direct means than the report suggested.

"And you project flight capability within... two weeks?" Bruce looked up, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Shit. I'd forgotten to adjust that timeline to something less aggressive. The treatments were progressing faster than would be plausible for "natural development."

"That's the upper range of possibility," I clarified quickly. "Based on observed indications of gravitational field manipulation during training. It could take significantly longer to achieve sustained flight."

Bruce studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Superman didn't develop flight until his late teens, according to his accounts."

"Superboy's genetic structure is different," I countered. "The artificial acceleration of his development might have established the foundational neural pathways earlier, even if they weren't fully activated."

A plausible explanation that leveraged what was known about Superboy's origins while concealing my direct intervention.

Bruce set down the tablet. "I'd like to observe your next training session."

My heart rate increased slightly, though I maintained my outward composure. "Of course. Though I should note that Superboy responds better in more private settings. His progress has been partially due to reduced performance anxiety."

"I can observe remotely," Bruce replied. "The mountain's security systems are quite comprehensive."

Of course they were. And I'd been careful to conduct the actual treatments outside those systems' range, but the training sessions to develop control happened within the mountain.

"That would be acceptable," I agreed, having little choice. "We're scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."

Bruce nodded, returning to his breakfast. "Your work with Superboy is impressive, regardless of the specific methodology. His improvement benefits both him and the team."

Was that... approval? From Batman?

"Thank you," I replied, genuinely surprised by the acknowledgment. "His potential has always been extraordinary. It simply needed the right approach to develop properly."

"Sometimes unconventional approaches yield the best results," Bruce said, his gaze meeting mine directly.

"Provided they're applied with appropriate care and consideration for long-term consequences."

The subtext was clear: I see what you're doing, I'm allowing it for now, but I'm watching for any negative effects.

"I couldn't agree more," I replied, matching his tone. "Superboy's well-being remains the primary consideration in every aspect of his development."

That, at least, was entirely truthful. Despite the strategic advantages of having a Kryptonian ally, I genuinely wanted to help Superboy achieve his full potential.

The genetic inhibitors artificially suppressing his abilities were an abomination - a deliberate crippling of his birthright by those who feared what he might become.

Breakfast concluded without further discussion of Superboy, shifting instead to my research at GSI and upcoming Wayne Enterprises events. The familiar rhythm of these conversations had become almost comfortable over the months, a predictable dance of half-truths and careful disclosures.

Later that morning, as I prepared to depart for GSI, my phone chimed with a message from Superboy: Something's happening. Need to see you.

The brevity and urgency were unusual. I quickly replied: Meet at usual location in one hour.

I informed Alfred of a change in plans, citing team business, and headed to the zeta tube in the Batcave.

"Recognized: Samael Morningstar, B07."

The familiar sensation of molecular transportation enveloped me, and moments later I materialized at Mount Justice. The base appeared quiet, with no immediate sign of the other team members.

I made my way outside, following the path to our usual training area - a secluded clearing in the woods surrounding the mountain, conveniently outside the range of most security systems.

Superboy was already waiting, pacing with barely contained energy. He stopped when he saw me, his expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

"What's happened?" I asked, approaching quickly.

"This," he replied, and without further explanation, his eyes flashed brilliant red. Twin beams of heat vision shot forth, striking a boulder and instantly melting a section to glowing slag.

I stared in surprise. The heat vision capability shouldn't have developed this quickly - we were still in the early stages of those neural pathway activations.

"When did this start?" I asked, immediately retrieving my scanner to check his neural patterns.

"This morning. I woke up and my eyes were burning. When I opened them..." He gestured to the partially melted boulder. "It just happened. No effort, no concentration."

The scanner showed accelerated activity in his optical neural pathways - far beyond what the current treatment should have produced.

"The genetic modifications are progressing faster than anticipated," I murmured, studying the readings. "Your Kryptonian DNA is adapting to the treatments more efficiently than I projected."

"Is that bad?" Superboy asked, a hint of concern entering his voice.

"Not necessarily," I replied, continuing to analyze the data. "But it does require adjustment to our approach. The treatments may need to be recalibrated to ensure stable integration."

I looked up from the scanner, meeting his gaze directly. "How does it feel? Any discomfort or instability?"

"It feels... natural," he said after a moment's consideration. "Like it was always there, just waiting to be activated. The only strange part is controlling it. It seems to respond to emotional states."

"That's consistent with what's known about Kryptonian abilities," I confirmed. "Many are tied to emotional centers in the brain, particularly in the early stages of development. Control becomes more cognitive with practice."

I continued scanning, noting other changes in his physiological readings. "Your flight capability has also accelerated. The gravitational field manipulation is nearly at functional levels."

To demonstrate, Superboy closed his eyes in concentration, and slowly rose several feet off the ground. His movements were more stable than in our previous session, though still not entirely fluid.

"I've been practicing," he admitted as he descended. "It's getting easier each time."

This accelerated development presented both opportunities and challenges.

On one hand, Superboy was achieving his potential faster than anticipated, which strengthened our alliance.

On the other, the rapid changes might draw more attention than I'd planned for at this stage.

"Batman wants to observe our next training session," I informed him, putting away the scanner. "Remotely, through the mountain's security systems."

Superboy's expression darkened. "Did you tell him about the treatments?"

"Not explicitly," I replied. "The report I provided frames your development as natural maturation of your Kryptonian DNA, accelerated by targeted training techniques. It's close enough to the truth to withstand scrutiny while avoiding details that might prompt intervention."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with this approach. "So what do we show him?"

"A controlled demonstration of your developing abilities," I said. "Nothing too advanced - just enough to align with the projected timeline in my report. The heat vision is unexpected but can be incorporated as an 'emerging capability' we're working to stabilize."

"And the flying?"

"Limited hovering only," I instructed. "Brief moments that could be interpreted as enhanced jumping rather than true flight. We need to maintain plausible progression rates."

Superboy practiced controlling his heat vision for the next hour, working on modulating intensity and duration. His progress was remarkable - by the end of the session, he could maintain a consistent low-level beam for several seconds before cutting it off precisely.

"Your neural adaptation is impressive," I observed as we concluded the training. "Most beings would require significantly more time to develop this level of control over a new ability."

"It helps having someone who understands the process," Superboy replied, the implicit gratitude clear in his tone. "Superman never offered to help me understand these abilities."

"Perhaps he didn't know how to approach it," I suggested, though we both recognized the rationalization for what it was. "Kryptonian biology isn't widely understood, even by those who possess it."

Superboy's expression hardened slightly. "He could have tried."

I nodded, acknowledging the legitimate hurt behind his words. "Yes, he could have. His reluctance says more about him than about you."

We parted ways with plans to meet the following afternoon for the Batman-observed session. As I prepared to return to GSI, I considered the implications of Superboy's accelerated development.

The rapid emergence of heat vision suggested his Kryptonian DNA was more responsive to the treatments than I'd anticipated.

This could potentially reduce the overall timeline for unlocking his full abilities from months to weeks.

Such acceleration required careful management - not just of the biological processes themselves, but of the narrative surrounding them.

Batman's tacit approval could quickly shift to intervention if the changes appeared too sudden or dramatic.

Yet the strategic advantages were significant. A fully powered Kryptonian ally, loyal due to genuine gratitude rather than manipulation, represented a tremendous asset for my long-term objectives.

Moreover, the success with Superboy established a precedent for my approach to "unconventional development" - identifying artificial limitations and systematically removing them rather than accepting them as fixed realities.

That philosophical framework had applications far beyond a single team member.

"Recognized: Samael Morningstar, B07."

As I materialized in the Batcave, I found Bruce at the computer console, reviewing what appeared to be the security footage from Mount Justice.

"Your meeting with Superboy was productive," he commented without looking up.

I maintained my composure despite the implication that he'd been monitoring us. Of course, the mountain's exterior would have some surveillance, though we'd been careful to stay in areas with minimal coverage.

"He's experiencing accelerated development of certain abilities," I replied honestly. "We needed to adjust our training approach accordingly."

Bruce turned to face me, his expression unreadable. "Heat vision, specifically."

So he had seen something. I nodded, deciding that confirmation was better than denial given the evidence.

"It emerged unexpectedly this morning," I explained. "Earlier than the progression timeline suggested. We're working on stabilization and control techniques."

"And the flying?" Bruce asked, his tone neutral.

"Limited gravitational field manipulation," I corrected carefully. "Not true flight yet, but the foundational capabilities are developing."

Bruce studied me for a long moment before speaking again. "Your report indicated these abilities would emerge gradually over weeks or months. Yet here we are, with significant developments just days later."

I met his gaze steadily. "Kryptonian physiology is notoriously unpredictable, especially in Superboy's case with his artificially accelerated development. Once certain neural pathways begin to activate, cascading effects can trigger rapid emergence of related abilities."

It was a plausible explanation, even if it wasn't the complete truth. The genetic treatments were indeed causing cascading activations, just through more direct intervention than I was admitting.

"Superman will notice," Bruce said finally. "These aren't subtle changes."

"Good," I replied with perhaps more feeling than I intended. "Superboy deserves recognition of his heritage and capabilities. Superman's continued distance has been... counterproductive."

Bruce's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "I agree. Though his reluctance stems from complex factors."

"Fear being primary among them," I observed. "Fear of what Superboy represents - both as a clone created without his consent and as a potential equal in power."

"Perceptive analysis," Bruce acknowledged. "Though I'd add guilt to that equation. He sees Superboy as a reminder of his own vulnerability - that his DNA could be taken and used without his knowledge."

This insight into Superman's psychology was valuable, though it didn't excuse his behavior toward Superboy.

"Regardless of his reasons," I said, "Superman's absence has left Superboy without guidance in developing abilities that are his birthright. Someone needed to fill that gap."

"And you appointed yourself to that role," Bruce noted, though his tone held more curiosity than accusation.

"I recognized a need and had relevant expertise," I replied simply. "The Ultimatrix contains extensive genetic data, including detailed analysis of various meta-human physiologies. Applying that knowledge to help a teammate seemed logical."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Continue your work with Superboy. But I want daily updates on his development, not weekly. And any significant new abilities should be reported immediately."

"Of course," I agreed, recognizing that this increased oversight was a reasonable compromise for continued approval of the "training."

As I headed upstairs to prepare for dinner, I reflected on the conversation. Bruce's reaction had been more measured than I might have expected.

His concerns focused on the rate of change rather than the changes themselves, suggesting he wasn't fundamentally opposed to Superboy developing his full Kryptonian abilities.

This aligned with what I'd observed of Batman's general approach - pragmatic utilization of available resources rather than fear-based restriction.

A fully powered Superboy represented a significant asset for the team, provided those powers were properly controlled and directed.

Batman's practical nature recognized this, even if Superman's emotional response might be more complicated.

In my room, I updated my research journal with observations from the day's developments.

Superboy's accelerated progress required adjustments to the treatment protocol - reducing dosages to prevent instability while maintaining the momentum of his genetic activation.

The next phase would focus on stabilizing his heat vision and flight capabilities before moving on to enhanced sensory abilities like X-ray vision and super hearing.

These sensory enhancements would require particularly careful calibration, as improper activation could lead to overwhelming input and potential psychological distress.

I closed the journal and leaned back in my chair, a sense of satisfaction tempering my usual frustration with the constraints of my situation.

The work with Superboy represented tangible progress toward my broader objectives - not just in securing a powerful ally, but in demonstrating the viability of my philosophical approach.

Identifying artificial limitations and systematically removing them rather than accepting them as fixed realities - this framework had applications far beyond a single team member.

It was, in essence, a microcosm of my vision for broader societal transformation.

A soft knock at my door interrupted these reflections. "Master Samael," Alfred called. "Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. And you have a visitor."

A visitor? That was unexpected. "Who is it, Alfred?"

"Miss Gordon is waiting in the study," he replied. "She mentioned something about a school project requiring your input."

Barbara Gordon. Interesting timing.

I quickly reviewed in my mind our recent interactions at Gotham Academy, recalling our agreement to maintain the appearance of a relationship to deter unwanted social advances from others towards the both of us.

"Thank you, Alfred. Please inform her I'll be down shortly."

As I prepared to head downstairs, I considered the possible reasons for Barbara's visit.

While we'd been maintaining our "relationship" facade at school, we hadn't spent much time together outside of Gotham Academy. This unexpected visit suggested she had something specific to discuss.

I headed downstairs, curious about what had prompted this development in our carefully crafted social alliance.

I entered the study where Barbara waited, her expression brightening as I appeared.

"Samael," she greeted with a smile that seemed more genuine than our usual school performances. "Sorry for dropping by unannounced. I hope it's not inconvenient."

"Not at all," I replied, genuinely curious about her purpose. "Alfred mentioned something about a school project?"

Barbara rolled her eyes slightly. "That was just for Alfred's benefit. I figured 'I'm here to discuss our fake relationship strategy' might raise some awkward questions."

I smiled at that, appreciating her directness. "A reasonable precaution. So what brings you to Wayne Manor?"

"A couple things," she said, settling into one of the study's armchairs. "First, Another of Madison's yacht parties is this weekend, and she's been particularly insistent that you attend. I thought we should coordinate our approach."

Ah, the social obligations of Gotham's elite youth. Despite my repeated declinations, Madison had continued her pursuit with remarkable persistence.

"I've already declined the invitations," I pointed out. "Multiple times, in fact."

"Which has only made you more interesting to her," Barbara countered. "Madison views rejection as a personal challenge.

She's now telling everyone you're just playing hard to get because of your 'thing' with me."

I sighed, recognizing the social complexities at play. "And your suggestion?"

"We attend together," Barbara proposed. "Make a brief appearance, establish our 'relationship' definitively in front of everyone who matters in our age group, then make an early exit.

It solves both our problems - you get Madison to back off, boys will be too careful of you to approach me and we get to silence the rumors about whether we're 'really together' or just friends."

Her logic was sound, though I was reluctant to sacrifice an evening to such trivial social maneuvering.

Still, maintaining my cover as Bruce Wayne's academically-focused but otherwise normal ward required some concessions to these social rituals.

"A strategic appearance," I conceded. "Though I warn you, my yacht party small talk is severely underdeveloped."

Barbara laughed, a genuine sound that suggested she was becoming a lot more comfortable in my presence. "Don't worry. I've been navigating these waters since I was twelve.

Just follow my lead and try not to look too much like you're plotting quantum equations in your head."

"I make no promises," I replied with a slight smile.

"The second reason I'm here," Barbara continued, her tone shifting to something more serious, "is that I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"For being decent about this whole situation," she explained. "The fake relationship thing could have been awkward, but you've been... respectful. Not everyone would handle it that way."

I hadn't expected this level of sincerity from her. Our arrangement had been pragmatic on both sides - a mutually beneficial social alliance rather than anything personal.

"It seemed the logical approach," I said simply. "We both benefit from the arrangement."

Barbara studied me for a moment, her intelligent eyes assessing. "You know, for someone our age, you have an unusually practical view of social dynamics.

Most guys would either get weird about pretending to date someone, or try to turn it into something real."

"I'm not most guys," I replied, the understatement almost amusing to me.

"Clearly," she agreed. "Which makes me wonder what you actually want out of all this - Gotham Academy, Wayne Enterprises internship, the whole social scene that clearly bores you to tears.

What's your endgame, Samael Morningstar?"

The directness of her question caught me slightly off guard. 

"Education, experience, understanding," I answered, offering some truth since I wished not to lie to her.

"The opportunity to develop my research in an environment with resources few other places could provide."

She nodded, though her expression suggested she wasn't entirely satisfied with my answer. "Fair enough. Though I suspect there's more to it than that.

But it's your life, don't have my mild curiousity bother you too much." She stated with a small smile.

Mild eh? I sincerely doubt that.

Before I could respond, Alfred appeared at the doorway. "Dinner is served, Master Samael. Miss Gordon, would you care to join us? Master Bruce is detained in the city but asked me to extend the invitation should you still be present."

Barbara glanced at me, eyebrows raised in question.

"Please join us," I said, recognizing an opportunity to further develop this potentially valuable connection. "Alfred's cooking is worth experiencing."

"In that case, I'd be delighted," Barbara replied with a smile.

As we followed Alfred to the dining room, I considered this unexpected development in my social network. Barbara Gordon was intelligent, observant, and well-connected through her father.

Cultivating a genuine friendship beyond our pragmatic school arrangement could prove strategically valuable.

More importantly, she seemed to see past the surface persona I maintained at Gotham Academy - recognizing that there was more depth to my character than I typically revealed in that setting.

Such perception could be dangerous if it led to too much scrutiny, but properly managed, it might actually enhance my cover.

A few carefully selected genuine connections made my presence in this world more believable than complete isolation would have.

Dinner with Barbara proved surprisingly enjoyable. Her quick wit and genuine intellectual curiosity made for conversation far more stimulating than the superficial social interactions that dominated Gotham Academy.

We discussed everything from advanced physics to Gotham's political landscape, finding common ground in our analytical approach to the world around us.

By the time Alfred arrived with dessert, I realized that for the first time in weeks, I hadn't been consciously maintaining a performance.

The conversation had flowed naturally, without the careful calculation that typically governed my interactions.

It was... refreshing. A small respite from the constant strategic positioning that had defined my existence since arriving in this universe.

"You know," Barbara said as Alfred served coffee after dinner, "we should do this more often. Our 'relationship' would be more convincing if we actually spent time together outside of school."

"A reasonable point," I agreed. "Though I suspect your father might have questions about you spending too much time at Wayne Manor."

She smiled mischievously. "Dad trusts Bruce completely. Besides, he's just happy I'm spending time with someone who can discuss something other than fashion or sports."

"Then yes," I said, finding strategic value in it as well as genuine preference. "We should do this more often."

After dinner, I walked Barbara to the door, where Alfred had arranged for a car to take her home.

"Thanks for dinner," she said. "And for agreeing to the yacht party strategy. Saturday at seven? I'll text you the details."

"I'll be ready," I promised. "Though still making no guarantees about my small talk capabilities."

She laughed again, the sound unexpectedly pleasant. "Just be yourself, Samael. Well, the version of yourself you've been tonight, not the brooding genius you play at school."

With that surprisingly perceptive comment, she departed, leaving me to consider the implications of this...relationship.

As I returned to my room, I found myself analyzing the evening from multiple perspectives.

Strategically, developing a more genuine connection with Barbara Gordon offered several advantages - social cover, information access through her father, and a more convincing public persona.

But there was something else, something I hadn't anticipated. I had actually enjoyed her company. Not as a means to an end, but for its own sake.

That was... unexpected. And potentially concerning.

Emotional attachments complicated strategic planning. They created vulnerabilities, divided loyalties, clouded judgment.

Yet complete isolation carried its own risks - psychological strain, increased scrutiny from those who found such detachment suspicious, limited access to informal information networks.

Perhaps a middle path was possible. 

Barbara Gordon might represent such a path - intelligent enough to be intellectually stimulating, perceptive enough to see past surface pretenses, yet not so deeply embedded in the hero community as to pose an immediate threat to my secrets.

I... I suppose for once I can drop the mask...

At least for a little bit.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Do tell me how you found it?

I'm having quite the bit of fun writing the interactions between Barbara and Samael cause honestly, just like our MC, I'm getting a bit tired trying to write things with constant forward thinking of the characters.

Believe me, writing schemers like Aizen, Light, Batman, Azula and Samael himself is not easy.

It gets tiring.

So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)