"Superman doesn't make sense!" Lex Luthor slammed his hands down on the LexCorp boardroom table. "A full understanding of him could unlock new fields in physics, in medicine, in all of science!"

Bruce Wayne glanced up from his phone. These board meetings were usually fairly predictable. Wayne Enterprises had bought a small stake in LexCorp, partly because it was the kind of thing that Wayne Enterprises would do, and partly so that Bruce could keep an eye on Luthor in a business setting. Of course, he didn't expect Luthor to let slip anything about his secret projects, the ones carefully hidden away on the books under innocuous research or development budgets. Luthor may have been slightly crazy, and very obsessed with Superman, but he wasn't careless. This was an uncharacteristic slip of the mask.

Luthor carried on. It wasn't anything that Bruce couldn't have predicted. "... a small allocation of funds ... benefits for humankind ..." etc. One of the non-executive directors raised her hand.

"I'm not comfortable with the idea of spying on Superman, and if it ever gets out, the publicity would play badly for us."

Luthor sighed loudly. "It's not spying, it's investigating. Very quiet investigating."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, raising his own hand. "I dunno, Lex." He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Superman seems like a decent guy. Why don't you ask him for a blood sample?"

There were some chuckles around the table. Luthor rolled his eyes. "Thank you for your contribution, Mr. Wayne. Invaluable, as always."

Bruce grinned ostentatiously, and went back to reading his emails. The meeting concluded without board approval for Luthor's proposal, although Bruce expected that Luthor would find a way to get the money to go where he wanted anyway. In practical terms, his control over the company was near absolute.

On the jet back to Gotham, Bruce relaxed into his seat. Keeping up his public facade was tiring, and he was glad he only ever had to do it for a few hours at a time. He dismissed the two stewardesses, and retreated into his thoughts.

Luthor was right, of course. Clark didn't make sense. Bruce had known him for a less than a year and had been observing him for not very much longer. Clark wasn't inclined to volunteer information about himself, but he had once said in a TV interview that he came from another planet, landed on Earth as a baby, and grew up on a farm as a normal kid. On the face of it, this wasn't completely impossible. But even allowing for exotic alien biology, how would an organism have evolved the ability to emit lasers from its eyes? And that was just the start - one time Bruce had seen Clark inhale a cloud of toxic gas and then fly up into space to release it. Clark had an impressively large chest, but the sheer volume of air inhaled was several orders of magnitude greater than an optimistic estimate of his lung capacity. Not to mention that the flying itself was inexplicable. Diana could leap to great heights, and Victor had jump jets built into his metal legs, but Clark just hovered. No noise, no downwash, no apparent muscle activity of any kind.

Bruce looked out of the cabin window at the wing of the plane, and then at the clouds moving slowly below, and he allowed himself a moment of whimsy. Were there tiny propellers in the feet of Clark's costume? A flicker of a smile crossed Bruce's face. He was certain that the Super-suit had nothing to do with Clark's abilities, but on the other hand, maybe there were... invisible bumble-bee wings on his cape? The smile grew fractionally more.

The plane's intercom crackled. "Mr. Wayne, we're beginning our descent. ETA is 20 minutes."

Bruce looked out at the clouds again. If Luthor was now actively investigating Clark, it was because he wanted to know how to neutralize him. Being able to stop Clark if he went rogue was common sense. Bruce himself had been thinking about how to do that for some time, but Luthor would take it one step further, and kill or disable Clark immediately if he could. For the time being, Clark was too valuable an ally, and the only way to stop Luthor would be to develop a countermeasure to whatever he found. The first step to that would be to understand Clark.

Bruce sighed, and started preparing himself for a difficult conversation at the next team meeting.

THWUP

The characteristic sound of a speedster coming to a stop heralded Barry Allen's appearance in the subterranean cave where Bruce had his secret workshop, and where he held team meetings. The cave was connected to Bruce's mansion via a cellar staircase, but the main cave exit was out in the grounds, allowing for discreet excursions, and in this case, private visitors.

Bruce had always cultivated a network of allies, but usually kept them separate from each other. The idea of explicitly forming a team had come to him after seeing the first news reports about Superman. It was, ironically, the fact that Superman was the least likely person on Earth to need a team that had prompted the line of thought that led, eventually, to Bruce reaching out to him a few months ago. Lone agents would never be as effective as a group that could pool their resources, and Bruce certainly didn't want to ever end up in a situation where he was pitted against Superman. Befriending Clark and keeping him close was the best way forward, and once Clark was on board the others quickly followed.

As the only team member not ferried to the meetings by Clark, Barry was often late. The conversation paused.

"Sorry guys, I had a... there was um..." Barry grinned apologetically. "Yeah, I know, sorry."

Diana resumed talking, "Why not wait for Luthor to make his move - then we take him down?"

"There won't necessarily be a move as such," said Bruce. "Maybe we'll just wake up one day, and Clark, well, he won't."

"I'm pretty sure that Supes doesn't sleep," said Barry, grinning at Clark. "But does anyone mind filling me in?"

Diana answered first. "Bruce thinks that Luthor is going to find a way to hurt Clark, and wants to stop him."

"Sounds sensible," said Barry.

"Yes, but Bruce wants to experiment on Clark, like some kind of lab rat."

"Okay...?"

So far, the meeting was going as Bruce had expected. Barry was a scientist, so wouldn't see any problem with an investigation into Clark's powers. Diana was a rebellious warrior by nature and would object to the indignity of it. Victor could have gone either way, depending on whether his scientific curiosity won out over his resentment at being experimented on by his father, but he had a prior engagement and had declined to attend the meeting. Ultimately their opinions didn't matter, since it would be up to Clark, but one of the principles of the team was that they would always discuss things openly, and Bruce didn't want anyone to feel that he was going behind their backs.

Diana seemed to be on the verge of throwing something at Barry, when Clark spoke. As ever, his deep voice managed to sound both soft and loud at the same time.

"Thank you for your concern, Diana, but I think Bruce has a point."

"Fine. If you want to go under the microphone, then do it, but I'm not going to be next."

Diana's grasp of technology didn't always match her grasp of battle tactics, but nobody in the cave was going to correct her.

Bruce slowly nodded. "Actually, a microscope isn't a bad place to start."

After returning Diana to her office, Clark reappeared in the cave. Bruce had asked Barry to stay, since his professional skill set could be useful. With quiet amusement, Clark put his upturned finger under the microscope, and watched as Bruce peered down the lens and adjusted it.

"Strange." Bruce motioned Barry over.

Barry looked down the microscope. "Woah... " Barry moved Clark's finger slightly, and took another look. "There are no cells."

Clark let Barry turn his hand over, and Barry examined a fingernail. "No keratin layers. And the surface is completely opaque." He sat up, and grinned. "I'm afraid to say, Mr. Kent, that you're not human."

Clark smiled briefly. Then Barry looked into the microscope again, and adjusted the lens. "Your hairs are... they're not made of hair. They're just colored tubes. At least on the surface - maybe we could pull one out and then take a closer look. Would you mind?"

Clark shrugged.

"I'd need tweezers," Barry looked around the cave, then grinned. "Or more likely pliers."

"There are some in the toolbox on that workbench." Bruce had barely started to point, when there was a THWUP, and Barry was back at the microscope holding a pair of large pliers.

"Let's see..." he used the pliers to take hold of one of Clark's finger hairs, and then yanked upwards. "I don't think I got it." he said, after examining the pliers. He tried again, this time pulling slowly on the hair first, to make sure of his grip.

"Ow," said Clark.

"Ow? Haha, you're kidding, right?"

"No."

Barry yanked upwards, but again found nothing in the pliers afterwards.

"Firstly," said Barry, "I'd like it on record that I made Superman say 'ow'. Secondly, this is weird, look, when I pull slowly, the skin rises up with the hair, but if I pull fast, it doesn't." He poked a finger at a fleshy part of Clark's hand, and they watched as it gave way normally, then Barry prodded harder, then harder still.

"Ow!" This time it was Barry who said it, rubbing his finger. "It's like, the harder you hit or pull the skin, the stiffer it gets."

"Makes sense," said Bruce. It explained why Clark seemed so human when you shook his hand, and yet he could punch through concrete walls with that same hand. Perhaps his skin contained tiny pockets of shear-thickening fluid, like the liquid body armor compound that Bruce had recently incorporated into his own outfits. Bruce looked closely at the cuffs of Clark's shirt, and then the collar.

"How often do you wash your shirts?"

"I don't, unless something spills on them. Otherwise there's no need."

"They look clean. This is good, it should mean that Luthor won't be able to get a sample of your DNA, or equivalent, from any place you've been."

"Score one for us!" said Barry. "High five?" He held up his open palm to Clark, who gently high fived it, and then to Bruce, who ignored him. If Clark really was an alien then there was no reason that his biology should resemble a human's. Maybe he shed his skin whole like a snake, or kept the same outside layer forever, like a tree.

"Okay," said Barry, "if there's no proper skin or hair to look at, um... no offense Clark, then I'm not sure how much more help I could be."

"Thanks anyway, Barry." said Clark.

"Yes, thank you." said Bruce. "Clark, I'd like to ask you some personal questions, if I may."

"See you around, guys!" said Barry. There was a short THWUP, then Barry's voice came from halfway out of the cave. "One of these days I'm gonna get that high five, Bats!"

After about half an hour of questions, Clark had finally started to look irritated, so Bruce had ended the conversation and let him leave. Not that Clark needed permission to leave, but he was extremely polite and wouldn't have left without it. Bruce thought back over what he had learned during the preceding 30 minutes, and typed up the key points for later reference.

Clark's parents had told him that they found him in a crashed spaceship, and adopted him as their own on their small farm in rural Kansas. The spaceship was non-functional, and was initially left buried in the ground, but a few years ago Clark had dug it up and hidden it in Antarctica, just to be safe. As a child, he had gone to school as normal and was subject to the usual trials and difficulties faced by children. He never felt that he really fitted in, and was teased by the meaner kids, although he did have some friends and was well-liked by the teachers. He had tried sports, but didn't take to them very well, being neither physically imposing nor particularly driven. This part had surprised Bruce, but Clark remained firm in his description of his younger self as being "Honestly kind of a dweeb."

Things changed after puberty. The way Clark had described it, he just kept growing, until he reached his current height and weight aged around 22. He had never worked out nor taken care over his diet - it simply happened. In fact, he didn't need to eat at all, and mainly did so to fit in at social events. His powers started manifesting at age 17, although Clark had discovered each one by accident, so he wasn't necessarily sure when they had actually become available to him. Fortunately most of the early discoveries occurred while he still lived on the farm, so only his parents had witnessed him casually throwing hay bales around as if they were made of cotton candy, or running to close an open gate and accidentally breaking the sound barrier.

His first laser-vision had nearly killed someone, when a bar fight that Clark witnessed had escalated to threats of gun violence. Clark described feeling an intense rage at the injustice unfolding, and staring intently at the perpetrator's weapon. He had activated his super-speed and was going to use it to prevent any gunshot from causing harm. But instead his field of view turned red and, from his slow-motion perspective, the gun started falling to the ground. Then, one by one, everyone's eyes slowly started turning towards him. Clark had run out of the bar before they could properly see him.

A short beep from Bruce's computer indicated that his initial background checks on Mr. and Mrs. Kent were complete. The results showed nothing untoward – the two of them appeared to be normal well-meaning Americans with no connections to any government or shady institution. Bruce's starting theory was that Clark was merely an augmented human of some kind. This seemed more likely than being from an alien species that just happened to look identical to Homo sapiens. An investigation into Clark's parents was the logical first step.

Of course, records were spottier back when Clark was a baby. If his parents had stolen him from a research center and adopted new identities, they would have gone off the grid before most modern databases were created. And assuming they knew how Clark would later develop, they would have had plenty of time to construct a "non-functional spaceship" to show to him when he grew older.

Bruce typed out a quick email to the head of the WayneTech Science Library, asking her to compile a list of known secret science programs that had taken place since the Manhattan project. Then, after a moment's reflection, he sent another email, to the editor of the Wayne Enterprises Friends & Family newsletter, suggesting an article about science myths and legends. Bruce had found that most of his covert investigations only required a single level of misdirection.

That line of inquiry would take some time to explore. In the meantime, Bruce turned his attention to a more immediate analysis. Clark had agreed to undergo further testing, with a researcher of Bruce's choice. It wouldn't take long to compile a shortlist and finalize the candidates.