The sewers beneath Metropolis's Underdistrict were a labyrinth of decay, their dripping tunnels reeking of rust and rot. Superman descended through a shattered manhole, his boots splashing in shallow, brackish water. The roar he'd heard—a guttural, primal bellow—echoed from deeper within, not human but not machine either. His super-hearing tracked it, a pulse of rage bouncing off concrete walls. Whatever Verdant Extraction had unleashed, it was down here, and it wasn't friendly.
Above, Green Lantern's voice crackled through his earpiece. "Kal, you sure about this? My ring's picking up Kryptonite radiation down there—stronger than the docks. I can back you up."
"Stay with the crate," Superman replied, his voice low but firm. The Kryptonite grenades from the Shadow Syndicate's truck needed securing, and Hal's ring was already strained from the dockyard fight. "If this thing gets out, you're the containment plan."
Hal grunted, his green aura flickering in the smoggy night. "Don't make me regret this, Boy Scout."
Superman's eyes adjusted to the dark, his vision piercing the gloom. The sewer walls glistened with an unnatural sheen, flecked with green crystals that pulsed faintly, like veins in a living thing. Kryptonite. Not raw chunks, but refined, embedded in the concrete like a deliberate infection. His chest tightened, a familiar sting creeping into his muscles. He clenched his jaw, pushing forward. Verdant wasn't just arming criminals—they were poisoning the city.
The tunnel widened into a cavernous junction, pipes converging like arteries. The roar came again, closer, shaking loose dirt from the ceiling. Superman froze, scanning. His X-ray vision flickered, distorted by the Kryptonite's radiation, but he caught a shape—hulking, humanoid, moving fast. Not a drone, not a mercenary. Something alive.
He advanced, boots silent on the slick floor. The air grew heavy, the Kryptonite's glow brighter, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters. A memory flashed—Krypton, its crystal cities crumbling as Jor-El's warnings echoed: "Our greed for power will be our end." Superman shook it off. This wasn't Krypton. This was Earth, his home, and he'd protect it, no matter the cost.
The creature lunged from a side tunnel, a blur of muscle and glowing green scars. It was massive, nearly eight feet tall, its skin a patchwork of human flesh and crystalline growths, like Kryptonite had fused with its bones. Its eyes burned emerald, wild with pain and rage. It roared, the sound vibrating in Superman's chest, and charged.
He dodged, barely, the creature's fist shattering a pipe into shrapnel. Water sprayed, mixing with green dust that stung his lungs. He countered, slamming a punch into its chest. The impact should've dropped it, but the creature barely flinched, its crystalline hide absorbing the blow. Pain shot through Superman's knuckles, the Kryptonite's radiation seeping into his skin. He gritted his teeth, circling. This wasn't a fight he could win with brute force.
The creature swung again, its movements erratic, driven by instinct. Superman weaved, using the tunnel's confines to his advantage. He grabbed a steel pipe, wrenching it free, and swung it like a bat, cracking the creature's arm. It howled, green blood oozing, but the wound sealed, crystals knitting together like living armor. "What are you?" Superman muttered, dodging another blow.
His super-hearing caught a hum—faint, electronic, embedded in the creature's neck. A control chip, blinking green. Verdant's work. This wasn't a natural mutation—it was engineered, a prototype gone wrong. Not the "Subject Zero" from the data chip, but a precursor, a failed experiment. His mind raced to "Project Emerald Genesis." What was Verdant building?
He aimed his heat vision at the chip, a precise burst that fried its circuits. The creature staggered, clutching its head, then roared with renewed fury. It barreled forward, pinning Superman against the wall. The Kryptonite crystals in its skin burned against his chest, sapping his strength. His vision blurred, his knees buckling. For a moment, he was just Clark Kent, small and mortal, staring into the abyss.
A green light flashed overhead—Hal, ignoring orders. A construct hammer slammed the creature back, giving Superman a moment to breathe. "Told you you needed me," Hal quipped, hovering at the tunnel's mouth. His ring flickered, weakened by the Kryptonite dust.
"Get out!" Superman shouted, shoving the creature off. He couldn't let Hal take the hit. He tackled it, driving both of them into a flooded chamber. Water surged, diluting the Kryptonite's effect. He seized the advantage, wrapping the pipe around the creature's arms, binding it. It thrashed, its roars turning to whimpers, then fell still, exhausted.
Superman panted, his strength returning slowly. The creature's eyes dimmed, its gaze almost human. "Help… me…" it rasped, voice broken. Before he could respond, it convulsed, green foam bubbling from its mouth, and went limp. Dead. The chip in its neck sparked, self-destructing.
Hal landed beside him, grim. "What the hell was that?"
"A warning," Superman said, his voice heavy. He scanned the chamber, spotting a sealed hatch in the wall, its edges glowing green. Verdant's mark was etched into it—a stylized V, like a claw. He ripped it open, revealing a hidden lab: sterile, Sci-Fi sleek, with vats of glowing liquid and screens flashing genetic code. Kryptonite dust coated everything, a fine, cursed mist.
He approached a terminal, its screen still active. Files scrolled: Project Emerald Genesis: Phase One. Subject Zero Containment Protocols. Antarctic Primary Facility. A video flickered—a human volunteer, strapped to a table, screaming as green fluid pumped into their veins. The footage cut off, but the message was clear: Verdant was playing god, and this creature was their failure. Something worse was coming.
Superman downloaded the data to his communicator, his hands shaking—not from weakness, but from anger. The Antarctic base was the key. Whatever "Subject Zero" was, it was there, buried in the ice.
Back at the Daily Planet, Clark Kent slumped in his chair, the sewer's stench still clinging to his suit. The newsroom was nearly empty, but Lois Lane was still at her desk, her screen filled with satellite images of Antarctica. She'd hacked into a weather database, pulling grainy shots of Verdant's glacier facility. "You're late, Smallville," she said, not looking up. "And you smell like a swamp."
Clark managed a weak smile, his mind on the creature's dying words. Help me. "Rough night," he said, glancing at her screen. "What's with the ice obsession?"
Lois spun her chair, eyes gleaming. "Verdant Extraction's Antarctic base. Something's off—restricted airspace, private security, and rumors of illegal mining. I've got a source, some ex-employee, says they're digging up 'alien rocks.' Sound familiar?"
Clark's heart sank. Lois was too close, and Verdant wasn't above silencing leaks. "Lois, maybe ease up on this one," he said, his voice soft but urgent. "Just for now."
She arched an eyebrow, undeterred. "Since when do you back off a story, Clark? What's going on?"
Before he could answer, her phone buzzed—an anonymous text. Meet me at the LexCorp Plaza, midnight. Elias Thorne wants to talk. Come alone. Clark's super-hearing caught the message, his blood running cold. Elias Thorne, Verdant's CEO, was a ghost—untouchable, unseen. This wasn't an interview. It was a trap.
"Lois, don't—" he started, but she was already grabbing her coat, her jaw set. "I'm not missing this," she said. "You coming or not?"
Clark's communicator beeped—Hal, reporting the crate's transfer to Justice League custody. "Kal, the Syndicate's moving again. Gotham this time. You want me to follow?"
He looked at Lois, then at the city beyond, its skyline flickering with that unnatural green glow. Verdant's shadow was spreading, and the creature in the sewer was just the start. He had to protect Lois, stop the Syndicate, and uncover the Antarctic's secrets—before "Emerald Genesis" became a nightmare he couldn't stop.
"Stay on the Syndicate," he told Hal, standing. "I've got a lead to chase."
As Lois headed for the elevator, Clark followed, his heart heavy. The abyss was calling, and he was running out of time.