Two Sides of the Same Coin | Young Justice

Chapter Twenty Five | The Homefront

"OH, AND RIDDLER'S FAVORITE BREAD is sourdough."

I pressed the enter button on the tablet, which led me to a picture of the next criminal on the list, Lex Luthor.

"Just answer the question asked."

I looked up and narrowed my eyes at the man sitting at the big computer.

"Riddle me this, Batman," I mocked in a toothy voice, similar to that of Edward Nigma. "What's my favorite type of bread? Sourdough, white, or whole grain? Oh, what's that? You don't know? Shame. Guess I'm just gonna have to blow up this bank full of people now, sorry!"

I didn't receive a response, only the clacking of the keyboard.

I rolled my eyes, beginning the form for Lex. Currently, I sat in the Batcave, filling out all of the information I had on all of the most wanted criminals— punishment for my "girls night out" gone wrong.

Now you may be thinking: wow! This is such an easy punishment, considering you took your underaged teammates clubbing, almost got them killed, and nearly exposed the secret identity of your boss.

Now, let me inform you that... you'd be right. It is an easy punishment. Because at about five this morning he tried to get Blondie, M'gann, and I up for "mandatory training."

Which worked pretty well for the two of them, but I, on the other hand, kindly informed Bats (and by kindly informed, I mean I screamed bloody murder down the hall) that if he wanted me up, he was going to have to come into my room and drag me out by my cold, dead body.

I also think I may have told him to go fuck himself, but it was early in the morning, so don't quote me on that.

Now I sat here in the Batcave, under his watchful eye, giving him the dish on the Gotham underground. I get to sleep in, and he gets his neverending crave for knowledge fulfilled. Seems like a win-win to me.

After another few moments of silence and absolute boredom on my part, I spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?"

The clacking of keys paused.

"The next criminal here is Lex, which reminds me, what's Smallville's deal with Conner?"

Silence once again. I rolled my eyes— this was probably too much personal information for him to give out. I let out a sigh, before looking down at my tablet once more.

"Superman... is not a fan of being a father figure to Superboy."

"Well, that much is obvious," I said. "Every time they're in the same room Clark looks like he'd rather get hit by Kryptonite than have a conversation with him. But I just don't understand why? I mean, I get it's a little strange that Superboy is just some of his stolen DNA thrown into a test tube, but Kansas seems like the fatherly type— I figured he'd enjoy having a kid."

"Superman's personal life isn't your concern."

I dropped my tablet and swiveled in my chair to face him. "Oh, please. I saw your face when I told Smallville that Conner took his last name— you were totally enjoying his discomfort."

"My opinion on Superman's personal life isn't your concern either."

"C'mon, Rich Kid. Look at all the gossip I'm giving you right now!" I complained as I held up the tablet in my hand. "You've gotta tell me something."

The beep of an incoming video call suddenly filled the cave. I glanced up at the big computer to find the call from Squidkid.

I huffed, swiveling my chair back around. "This conversation isn't over."