[center][i]Prodigal Son; Wandering Gun.[/i][/center]

It was in Metropolis it had happened. Like everything else that ever made an impact on his creation, it came from the ‘City Of Tomorrow’. He, meant to prove the best of the two greatest visionaries on the planet, met his match. His team had disbanded around him, scattered to the wind. He hadn’t held them together like he should’ve. Or perhaps held them too tight.

It had been 639 days. 639 days since the four people marched into the city and lit it on fire. The third Atomic Skull, the shadow mage Essence wielding the full power of her birthright, Brutalia the rogue amazon powered up by the Blockbuster Mutation formula, and finally their leader, fueled by nothing but six pints of Guinness and a hatered for the man in Blue.

The League was dispatched. The first responders, a Green Lantern, a Flash and several of the recently appointed Titans were all decemated in moments. Essence dominated the speedster, trapping him in another dimension. Atomic Skull’s flames burnt so hot that the ring melted and the she-hulk Brutalia showed exactly why a 4000 year old culture of warriors weren’t for a bunch of rookie teenage heroes to mess with. A trio of Terror that would tear down the city bit by bit.

The biggest guns of the League were off-world during the attack. Handling a situation on Rimbor. The attack was against the interests of the most powerful man in the world, which is how the satellite array designed to atomize the foe of man in his ivory tower came into play. Scarlet fire from the sky rained down, searing Essence in a heartbeat. The purple and green robots protected the city as best it could but proved little match.

Continuing their rampage in the city  once more, only one young man stood to face the threat. Leaving his blue space-mineral behind some time ago he wasn’t afraid of what was to come. Ready to face his destiny, prove he was just as much of a hero as the man fighting for another world half-way across the known universe. Yet as brilliant of a mind as the man protecting the city from the shadows.

He was Julian “Ax-El” Luthor. He was born from darkness yet had always chosen to walk in the light, twilight incarnate.  He dove into battle, utilizing every strategic advantage he could muster, countering the powers of his foes. His kryptonian powers and 12th level intellect made him capable of engaging the remaining two adversaries, beating the breaks off of the amazon while ensuring the atomic bonehead ran out of juice trying to melt him. 

Yet it all came to a halt when his win streak came to an end. The two cold hands of Manchester Black coiled around his head, his purple eyes staring into his very being. Echoing and ripping through his mind, destroying every neatly orchestrated metaphorical microchip the lab-grown hero had. If the Martian Manhunter had known what was happening, he would’ve known that what Black breaks, he can put back together again.

Alexander “Lex” Luthor did not know this, instead placing a .44 to the back of Manchester’s skull and applying enough pressure to spray the only brain that could have saved his son onto the sidewalk of Kal-El Avenue.


Since that day, when Julian bought the city another day all on his own, he lost everything. The mad psychic had done damage to him that no alien powers could heal. No magic could put it back. Tubes and alien machines kept him alive inside of the most advanced Cadmus facilities, his body serving as nothing more than an empty husk. It had been 639 days since Julian was taken from this world.

Today, his eyes opened.