"Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them."

- Albert Einstein

Chapter One: I am a Work in Progress

Iowa

September 17; 2:26 UTC

Roy Harper could admit he had a problem.

Of course, the word "problem" might be little too kind. A problem was forgetting your homework on your desk the day it's due. A problem was being unable to find the TV remote. What he had was something bigger. Something he couldn't help but watch spiral out of his control and do nothing about it. Perhaps "addiction" would be a better word?

Roy Harper could admit he had an addiction.

He wasn't addicted to sex, drugs or alcohol, the usual sins. However, like every other addiction possible, it led to self-destructive behavior and the alienation of friends. Although he questioned whether he actually had any friends to begin with. Those so called "friends" couldn't understand his addiction.

Roy Harper was addicted to making Lex Luthor's life miserable.

It was completely justified. The guy went and kidnapped him, chopped off his arm to grow a new Roy Harper, then shoved him in a cyro-containment pod for eight years with not even a "sorry kid"? Then the real Roy had to wake up and realize that for the past eight years the clone Roy had been living his life, making his friends, and doing his job the entire time? So maybe he had some serious anger issues … but seriously, anyone else would too!

However, his addiction led him right to his current predicament: hiding in the ductwork of one of Lexcorp's rural warehouses outside Des Moines, Iowa while Luthor's security team combed the entire area searching for him. Normally he would take out the men without a hitch but the battery on his cybernetic arm had reached dangerously low on the power scale. Arsenal wasn't one to let a freebie pass him bye so he had been using the cybernetic arm Luthor gave him as compensation last year. Lately the battery was having some issues with longevity and was putting his self-imposed mission of destroying Luthor in jeopardy.

One of the larger, blurrier security guards paused under the grate right next to where Arsenal was hiding. "Let's do one more perimeter sweep. Don't let anything go unturned. I want to bring this bastard to Mr. Luthor dead or alive!"

The security guards moved a little more frantically, one of them pointed a flashlight at the ceiling. Arsenal leaned back away from the holes in the grate and held his breath as the inside of the duct lit up. He dared not to move even as the light moved on to other parts of the ceiling. His legs cramped from the tight space and his stomach clenched nervously as the men gathered right underneath his hiding spot.

"We're going to expand our perimeter," the same large blurry man spoke. Like the other guards he wore a cheap suit and tie over top of a bullet-proof vest. His bald head was slick with sweat from the humidity or stress and he kept dabbing at his head with a handkerchief. "I want teams one and two doing a sweep of the surrounding roads. Look for anything out of the ordinary and record all license plates. Team three; I need you to go over the footage from tonight. The technical team should have the systems up and running again. At some point this asshole has to make a mistake. I need to prepare what to tell Mr. Luthor."

With the group dismissed, eight men split up and piled into four dark green jeeps. Another four men and the head of security walked out of the garage back into the main building. Arsenal relaxed. Although not as good with computers as any of the Bat-kids, Roy could program one mean virus. He still had some time to get out and call his getaway ride. He was feeling confident that he could still get out of the mess he had created. Or he was confident until a skull materialized out of the darkness to his left.

Roy rapped his head against the metal duct as he jumped in shock from the sight. Luckily, some of the jeeps had just started up and drowned out the noise. The skull paused and what looked like a finger rested right where the mouth should have been in the universal sign for "shhh." Blinking to adjust his eyes, Roy realized that there was indeed a body attached to the floating skull. One that was covered entirely in black material that left no skin visible. At this point he also noticed the red mark on the forehead of the skull which slashed over the eye socket. It looked almost like an "X".

The figure gestured impatiently for Arsenal to follow. He shrugged, having no better option, and followed behind the man. He was incredibly quiet as they shuffled through the ductwork. Although there was definitely some muscle mass under the black material, the man was able to twist and shift his body to slide perfectly through the ductwork without a sound. Arsenal tried his best to imitate the man's stealth but was nowhere near as silent and cringed whenever his foot hit an especially creaky spot. Finally, the figure stopped and motioned for Arsenal to wait. He held up a small can and sprayed the air before him. A crisscross of motion sensing beams lit up before him. Arsenal cringed; he forgot to shut those off when he hacked the system. Robin or Nightwing would have remembered.

The man slipped a small mirror out of his utility belt and carefully slid it in the path of one of the beams. The trajectory of several of the beams changed and by adding another mirror the man created an opening large enough for a slim man to slip through. Arsenal smirked; he was definitely impressed so far.

He followed the man through the motion sensors and a grate onto the roof. By the time the redhead had analyzed the situation and cleared the roof of anyone else, the dark figure had slunk to the edge of the roof towards the back of the warehouse. A short black and grey cape was hiding whatever he was fiddling with from Arsenal's view. The redhead bent down and shuffled after the man, carefully not to scuff his shoes on the cement. He knelt down next to the man and tried not to fumble with the grappling gun that was tossed to him. He gave the man a what the hell am I supposed to use this for all the way out in the middle of nowhere look but it probably closely resembled huh?

The masked man gestured to the nearest oak tree. He examined the ground and took several steps back before making an impressive leap right into the dense coverage of the oak tree before a guard turned around the corner of the building. Arsenal eyed the space where the man disappeared and tried not to startle when the skull loomed out of the darkness behind the leaves. He had picked this night for his mission because the cloud coverage would hide his movements. Now it was becoming a pain in the ass to keep track of the silent ninja. The guy was most definitely a ninja or long-lost Bat-kid.

Arsenal eyed the distance from the edge of the roof to the tree and realized that he just couldn't make the leap with the additional weight of his arm. Apparently the man realized the same thing before it had even crossed Arsenal's mind and that's why he tossed the teen a grappling gun. A little bit ticked off that he was so easily judged by someone he had met only five minutes before, Arsenal watched the guard turn the corner before aiming and shooting the grappling line at one of the high branches. Surprised at the near silence of the gun, he jumped off the roof and pressed down on the button at the back of the gun to rewind the line. He was pulled up into the dense coverage before the next guard turned the corner.

A silent swear escaped his lips. The tree was empty. Arsenal had the joy of trying to find the masked man without rustling the leaves while simultaneously not fall out of the tree. He was not raised by squirrels. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A red sticker in the shape of an arrow was stuck to the tree trunk and pointed to the next tree away from the warehouse. Arsenal shook his head, somewhat amused. He ripped off the sticker and shoved it in his utility belt along with the grappling gun. There was no need to leave behind anymore evidence.

Arsenal followed the trail of red stickers to a beaten down dirt road that was probably used by loggers before Luthor came in. An old brown station wagon was parked in the middle of the road with a small red X taped onto the driver's door. A metallic ching was the only warning he had before something small, hard, and pointed collided with his forehead. He cursed and scrambled to catch the item in his hands, revealing it to be a basic key chain with two keys.

"What the hell man?" Arsenal squinted to spot the man. He was relaxed on a thick tree branch, everything but the outline of his body was hidden in the shadows. "Look … I'm grateful for your help and all, but who are you?"

The figure made no reply, just watched him.

Arsenal crossed his arms and shifted his weight to show a more relaxed stance. He needed to approach this cautiously as his knowledge about this man was slim to none. "All I'm asking for is a name, something I can call you by. I don't want any trouble here since I can tell that you're damn good and you've probably noticed that I'm not at one hundred percent."

A soft chuckle rang out across the clearing. There was a slight distortion to the sound and Arsenal realized that it was a voice modifier. "A name is meaningless, kid," the man had an amused undertone. "You won't find anything about me even in the Justice League's system. After all, the best thieves are the ones you've never heard of."

Arsenal shrugged, "Makes sense I guess. So you're a thief? I can deal with that. I suppose you won't tell me why you were at this particular Lexcorp building?"

The smirk in his voice grew. "You are correct. I noticed that someone was making it easier for me and I thought I would give him or her a hand. A little advice though: sometimes a silent, slow attack can be more effective in the long term then barging in guns blazing."

Arsenal snorted in reply. Like hell he'd tone it down.

The figure in the trees shrugged. "Whatever, like I have a right to tell anyone what to do. I suggest wiping down the car when you're done with it."

"You stole it."

"I prefer … borrowed without permission. That is a nice, traffic violation free, Iowa license plate though."

Arsenal turned over the keys in his hand. One had a Ford logo on it, indicating that it was for the car. The other was discrete with just the numbers 671190 stamped on it. "What's this other one for?"

"I noticed that you are having problems with your arm; that battery wasn't built to last forever. My … benefactor … has access to the best technology on the planet and unlimited resources. She may be willing to get you a new arm, but it's conditional," the man's head tilted, "I don't think you are ready to meet those conditions."

Arsenal narrowed his eyes, "What? Join the dark side? I'd rather go back to the Justice League."

"The thing with toeing the line, Roy Harper, is that you can join whichever side benefits you most. Normally, my benefactor and I would be happy leaving things as they are. But something big is coming, the Light is not finished yet and their plans will get in the way of what I want. My benefactor agrees with me that it needs to be permanently stopped."

"How do you know my name?" Arsenal growled. There was no need to deny his identity; the man spoke his name with absolute confidence.

"I tell you that the world is in danger and all you're annoyed about is that I know your name?"

Arsenal scowl turned dangerously close to a pout. "Fine. So what do you want me to do about it? I'm not with the Justice League."

"Exactly!" The man shifted to lean down towards Arsenal. "The Justice League can't be seen doing the dirty work so they won't do what needs to be done. The world is not black and white; there is a whole lot of grey which is where you and I stand. I'm offering you an opportunity to team up with some … like-minded individuals under the funding of my benefactor. This was her idea by the way. I have two positions filled already and you would have access to unlimited technology to develop a new and better arm."

Roy turned and bit the inside of his cheek. The offer was ridiculous. He rejected the Junior Justice League because he didn't want to work with other people. People who didn't understand him and kept comparing him to ….

"You're never going to surpass your clone like this. All they will see is an angry Roy Harper who just can't let go of what happened to him. Face it kid, they are always going to prefer the clone."

"What do you know about that?!" Arsenal voice rose to a dangerously high tone and he snapped his gaze back towards the stranger.

The man's voice softened in his reply. "I know that you feel replaced. I know that you wonder if you ever truly mattered to him."

Arsenal opened his mouth to respond but paused. This man was right. Realizing that his mouth was still hanging open, he closed it and gritted his teeth, trying to regain some dignity. "How did you …."

The skull leered at him from the tree. "You think that you're the only one who has been replaced? The only one who's been tossed aside as a failure?"

Arsenal stared intently at the man in the tree, his mind working in overdrive. This man was obviously not on the Justice League, nor even on the same side. If he joined up with this man to get insider intel on this man and his mysterious benefactor, he might just uncover an operation the League was unaware of. He could pass information off to Batman and regain the trust of Oliver and the other Leaguers. Maybe he'd even gain the respect of the Team. This could be his ticket to getting respect from the League.

He discarded that thought very quickly. Roy was given the opportunity to return after he helped during the Invasion but chose not to. What held him back at the time was remembering how lonely he felt the last time he was part of that group. No one there truly understood him, nor did they really try to understand him. If he was honest with himself, he didn't belong among the heroes anymore. His thoughts had become progressively darker.

But this man had figured him out after a half hour. He had seen what his clone, Nightwing, Black Canary, and his own father figure had been unable to recognize. This was someone like him: an outsider. He was someone who wouldn't care if he did some unheroic things to finish the mission. If they were truly alike, this man was probably as alone as he was. Perhaps it was time to try something new?

Decision made, the redhead smirked in a way that could almost be mistaken for a smile. "So … what are these conditions you were talking about?" Misery did love company.

He could almost feel the other man return his smile.

Iowa

September 19; 15:43 UTC

Jackson Smith was not a man who could be easily intimidated, he'd been in the security business far too long to even feel apprehensive when facing the super-powered crazies in capes and tights. He had joined the Marines just out of high school and was honorably discharged after ten years of service and three tours in Iraq. His PTSD had developed a minor case of paranoia which – when managed – had made him into one of the best security guards available in the United States. Jackson was meticulous in his job and had a real attention to detail that got him noticed by the higher ups at Lexcorp who promoted him to Head of Security at the Lexcorp chemical production plant in Iowa. It was because of his position at this particular plant that he was presently facing the quiet fury of Lexcorp's CEO.

Lex Luthor was the most terrifying person he had ever met.

He trailed after Mr. Luthor behind the man's silent assistant Mercy and the Director of the facility Dr. Andrew Wang.

"I can assure you Mr. Luthor that we will have the facility working at maximum capacity again within two weeks. The boy's interference has only slightly delayed the next shipment of high-potency pesticides." Dr. Wang was wringing his hands and adjusting his glasses constantly under the pressure of Mr. Luthor's disapproval.

"I certainly hope so Dr. Wang," Mr. Luthor continued walking purposefully to the supply closet between the security office and the men's washroom. "However, that is not my main concern right now. Mr. Smith, did the intruder ever reach this part of the building?"

Jackson straightened his back, although Mr. Luthor could not see it. "I spoke extensively with my men and built a timeline of the boy's movements from his first known appearance until his last. He was active in Sectors 1, 2, 5, and 7 but I don't believe that he was ever in this sector of the facility according to the evidence I've gathered."

Mr. Luthor opened the door of the supply closet and moved to the back. Setting aside several bottles of mopping solutions, he slid a section of the wall up to reveal a glowing blue screen. He placed his right hand over the screen and the dark room lit up with a traveling blue light. He stepped away from the wall as it slid open to reveal an elevator. Jackson joined the other three people in the elevator as it began to descend.

"Was he alone?"

"My men did not spot any other intruder within the facility or the immediate area. However, the boy was quite proficient with disabling our cameras."

Mr. Luthor hummed in thought. "Yes, that is why I am concerned. Green Arrow's former protégé is indeed talented, but he shouldn't be so proficient in hacking after nearly eight years in stasis. I am concerned that Sector 4's video feed and motion sensors went offline as well although the boy never made it this far. Furthermore, the motion sensors in all sectors remained online during his little escapade except for Sector 4 where he never went and Sector 5 where he was last seen."

The pieces began falling into place. "You suspect there was someone else; a partner or an opportunist?" Jackson asked.

Mr. Luthor finally turned to look at Jackson, his piercing stare barely covering his annoyance at having to explain everything. "Most likely an opportunist. The boy is anything but a team player and he was making enough noise to draw attention away from what really matters."

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open to reveal a small room that was dwarfed by the enormous metal vault door on the opposite wall. Mr. Luthor strode up to the display on the wall beside the door. The scanner read his handprint, eye, weight, height and voice before granting access. As the numerous locks in the vault door slid into place to open the door, Jackson voiced his thoughts. "Mr. Luthor, this is one of the most heavily secured vaults in the United States. What kind of thief could get in and get out without attracting any attention? Let alone reaching this vault without tripping any alarms to alert my men?"

A loud clacking noise indicated that the door was unlocked. It slowly swung open to reveal an empty display case.

"To answer your question Mr. Smith," Mr. Luthor's voice was ice cold with fury. "A very good one."