In Search of What Was Lost

Chapter One: Ghosts in the Shadows

The Batcave was quiet, the only sounds echoing through its vast emptiness were the steady hum of machinery and the faint drip of condensation on the rock. In the center of it all stood Tim, motionless, staring at the cloning pod in front of him. He felt hollowed out, stretched too thin. He hadn't slept in days—possibly weeks—and couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything other than numb.

The pod in front of him hissed and whirred, and Tim's hands clenched into fists. He had done this enough times to know not to hope—not to believe that this time would be any different. But something inside him, some twisted fragment of his heart, refused to let go. Each time he tried, each time he failed, it drove him further into darkness. He was barely a shell of himself now, and only this—the faint, fragile belief that he might see Kon again—kept him going.

The pod opened, mist spilling out as a figure staggered forward, hunched and unsteady. At first glance, it looked like him—Kon's face, his form, his broad shoulders and familiar height. But then, the figure straightened, eyes snapping open. Blood-red eyes locked onto him, narrowing with fury and wild, animal rage. This wasn't Kon. This was a creature, something born of desperation and faulty science, twisted by his own mistakes.

Tim's body moved on autopilot, his hand flying to his belt where he kept a kryptonite bullet—a precaution he'd learned to take after the first few clones had gone wrong. He lifted the gun, steadying himself even as his hands trembled. The clone lunged, fast, with strength that nearly matched Kon's, a twisted echo of the friend he'd lost.

He fired, the kryptonite bullet hitting its target with deadly precision. The clone crumpled to the ground, lifeless, its face twisted in anger even in death. Tim didn't move, didn't breathe, as he lowered the gun, staring down at the body that looked so much like him. The lifeless eyes were still open, red and accusatory, staring back at him as though blaming him for everything.

This wasn't the first time he'd done this. This wasn't the first clone he'd been forced to put down. But every time, it tore something else from him. Every failure made him a little more numb, a little more empty.

He staggered back, feeling his legs give way, slumping against the cold metal of the pod. The emotions he'd buried clawed their way to the surface, ripping through him with a viciousness that made his chest ache. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling anymore—grief, shame, rage. Mostly, he felt like he was losing his mind.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though he wasn't even sure who he was apologizing to. To Kon? To himself? To the broken clone that now lay at his feet, the twisted result of his reckless desperation?

He covered his face with his hands, choking back a sob. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep putting himself through this agony. But the thought of stopping, of letting Kon stay dead, was a pain he couldn't bear.

A Couple of Weeks Later

Tim's hands tremble as he watches another clone dissipate, vanishing like smoke. His bloodshot eyes burn as he grips the edge of the machine, fighting back the urge to break. Each failed attempt leaves him emptier, a hollow shell of who he once was.

He knows he's spiraling, each loss making him feel more broken. But giving up would mean letting go of Kon completely, and that's a pain he can't bear. The thought drives him to the machine again, to try one more time, as if he can somehow undo the grief that's slowly consuming him.

The Next Attempt

Tim's hands shake as he loads up another sample, exhaustion gnawing at him. This time, he's trying something different—he's mixed Kon's DNA with his own blood. Maybe, he thinks, adding his human DNA is the missing piece. Maybe this will finally bridge the gap between Kon's Kryptonian cells and the imperfect clones he's created so far. He clings to a fragile sliver of hope, telling himself that this could be it.