The tests droned on, an endless parade of poking, prodding, and scanning.
Samael endured it all with a carefully crafted facade of teenage boredom, punctuated by the occasional sarcastic quip.
He knew he had to play the part, to convince his father and the doctors that he was just a "normal" kid - as normal as this situation could be considered - recovering from a long illness.
He couldn't let them ever know the truth.
He couldn't reveal that he remembered another life, another world.
He couldn't tell them about the comics, the shows, the movies, the stories that had filled his mind during his long coma - during his wait for his body to burn up and be free as an archangel, though then still incapable to interact with the physical world.
A price he was then willing to pay to be free from the darkness, though now something he must absolutely prevent.
He, of course, as well, couldn't explain that he knew about the identities of Superman, Batman, the Justice League, and so many others within this world.
And he definitely couldn't tell them about the grace, the power that surged through his veins, the essence of what now made him a literal fallen archangel.
They wouldn't understand. They would fear him. They would try to control him. And he couldn't allow that.
He needed to learn to control his powers, to master his abilities.
He needed to be strong enough to protect himself, to protect his father, to protect the world.
Or, you know, conquer it. He still hadn't decided on that part.
As the doctor prepared another scan, Samael decided it was time for a little… demonstration. He needed to give them a reason for the "abnormalities" they were detecting, something that would explain the energy signatures without revealing the truth about his grace.
He closed his eyes, focusing his will. He reached out to the grace, drawing on its power. He imagined the energy flowing through him, building, intensifying.
Then, he opened his eyes and held out his hand, palm up.
A flicker of light appeared above his palm, a tiny spark that grew rapidly, coalescing into an orb of pure energy. The light pulsed with a soft, ethereal glow, illuminating the room with its otherworldly radiance.
The doctor gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief. Lex Luthor watched intently, his expression unreadable. Mercy Graves remained impassive, her hand resting on the grip of her weapon.
"What… what is that?" the doctor stammered, his voice trembling.
Samael smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't know," he said, feigning innocence. "I felt something and just... did. I guess I'm psychic, must have unlocked it while I was in the coma. Spiritual, or something."
The doctor stared at the orb of light, mesmerized. "But the energy readings… they're off the charts! It's… impossible."
Samael shrugged, maintaining his innocent act. "Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are. Maybe all those years of doing nothing gave my mind something to do."
He knew that his explanation was flimsy, ridiculous even. But it was the best he could come up with on short notice while knowing about his father's research. And, judging by the look on his Lex's face, it was working.
Lex Luthor was intrigued, his mind already racing, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
He - though hating to admit it, as a man who firmly believed in purely technology - had always been fascinated by the paranormal, by the unexplained phenomena that seemed to defy the scientific explanation.
Seemed, for he knows there is an explanation for everything, and he will always find it, for he is Lex Luthor.
He had funded countless research projects, exploring the mysteries of telekinesis, telepathy, and other psychic abilities for his own personal interest, though in recent decades, primarily for his son.
Samael decided it was time to take the act to the next level. He needed to sell the idea that his powers were dangerous, that they could harm him if he wasn't careful.
He focused his will again, intensifying the energy in the orb of light. He imagined the power flowing through his body, straining his muscles, burning his skin.
Then, with a sudden surge of energy, he allowed the power to… slip.
A jolt of raw energy ripped through his body, causing him to gasp in pain. The orb of light flickered, then vanished, leaving behind a faint scent of ozone.
Samael stumbled backward, clutching his hand. He looked down and gasped, feigning shock and horror (he was a good actor, came natural with knowing a bit what it was like to be the Devil.)
The skin on the top of his hand was… bursting.
Not in a gory, theatrical way. More like a subtle, internal combustion. The skin was splitting, cracking, revealing the raw flesh beneath. Blood welled up, oozing from the wounds.
The effect was… convincing.
The doctor cried out, rushing forward to examine his hand. Lex Luthor's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with concern.
"Samael!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with alarm. "What happened?"
Samael groaned, clutching his hand tightly. "I… I don't know," he said, his voice trembling. "I just… lost control. It's like… my body can't handle the power."
The doctor examined his hand, his face etched with worry. "Mr. Luthor, this is… serious. His cellular structure is… destabilizing. His body is rejecting the energy."
Lex Luthor's expression darkened. He turned to Samael, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination. "You need to rest, Samael," he said, his voice firm. "No more… demonstrations. Not until we understand what's going on."
Samael nodded, his face pale. "Okay, Dad," he said, his voice weak. "I understand."
He allowed the doctor to bandage his hand, all the while maintaining his act of pain and weakness. He needed to sell the illusion, to convince them that his powers were a liability, not an asset.
As the doctor worked, Lex Luthor approached, his gaze intense. "Show me," he said, his voice low.
Samael looked up, feigning confusion. "Show you what, Dad?"
"The scan results," Lex clarified, his gaze unwavering. "I want to see what happened to your body."
The doctor hesitated, glancing nervously at Samael. Lex Luthor silenced him with a look. "Show me," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.
The doctor quickly pulled up the scan results on a nearby monitor. He pointed to various areas, explaining the damage in clinical terms.
As Samael listened, he subtly manipulated the energy within his body, subtly altering the scan results in real-time. He needed to make sure the scans showed the right things, things that would support his story.
The doctor finished his explanation, his face troubled. "As you can see, Mr. Luthor, his body is exhibiting signs of… accelerated evolution.
His cellular structure is becoming denser, stronger. But it's also causing… instability. His body is fighting against the changes."
Lex Luthor studied the scan results, his mind racing. The doctor's explanation made sense, in a twisted, scientific sort of way.
It confirmed his suspicions: Samael was evolving, becoming something more than a conventional human. But his body couldn't handle the transformation.
"So, what does this mean?" Lex asked, his voice controlled. "What are the long-term consequences?"
The doctor hesitated. "It's difficult to say, Mr. Luthor. If his body continues to reject the energy, it could lead to… cellular breakdown. Organ failure. Death."
Lex Luthor's expression hardened. "And if he can control the energy? If he can learn to harness it?"
The doctor shrugged. "Then… the possibilities are limitless, Mr. Luthor. He could become… superhuman."
Lex Luthor nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Samael. Superhuman. The word hung in the air, filled with meaning.
He had always strived to be the best, to be the strongest, to be the most powerful. He had always believed that humanity could achieve its full potential through science, through technology, through sheer force of will.
Now, standing before his son, witnessing his transformation, he saw a glimpse of that potential. A glimpse of a future where humanity could transcend its limitations, could evolve into something greater.
But he also saw the danger, the risk, the potential for destruction. If Samael couldn't control his powers, if he couldn't harness his abilities, he could become a threat to himself.
He had to protect him. He had to guide him. He had to control him.
He turned to Samael, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. "You need to rest, Samael," he said, his voice firm. "I want you to stay in this room, under constant supervision. No more experiments. Do you understand?"
Samael nodded, his face pale and drawn. "Yes, Dad," he said, his voice weak. "I understand."
Lex Luthor looked at his son, his mind racing. He had so many plans, so many goals.
But now, everything had changed. His focus had shifted. His priority was no longer conquering the world, but protecting his son.
He had to find a way to help Samael control his powers, to harness his abilities, to become the man he was meant to be. He had to find a way to ensure his survival, to secure his future.
He had to find a way to control the poison of God, before it destroyed them all.
-----------------------
(Author note: How did you find Sam's acting? Pretty darn convincing if i say so myself.
The question some of you are probably asking is, why?
Well, it's to gain more of Luthor's sympathy and desire to protect, working towards a way himself to strengthen his body, something Samael knows he needs to do, but can't currently do himself.
Not till he can control his abilities better.
It would allow him to take things slow, enjoy life a bit, while progress is still being made towards fixing the weakness of his vessel issue.
He will of course work towards that during it as well, but he still needs to think of some ideas.
He has no fear of the power ever being taken from him or the like, since the grace has become his in a way like a arch-nephilim's is, that his soul now generates grace for him if it depleted or taken.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter,
See you all later,
Bye!)