Many of Eyeball's researchers were convinced that Eyeball was himself some sort of genius; something which he knew full well wasn't the case. He was above-average at best, and before his mutation had been an idiot; if not for his power, he'd assume he simply got lucky. He'd started to understand a bit about what Odin had meant, on following his instincts, and seemed to just know the right thing to say sometimes, the right question to ask, to get things moving in the direction that was best.

Of course, the luckiest part was picking the right lab to rob, and the right materials to steal, back in the day. The Reflex lab had over a billion dollars sunk into it at this point; and had made tens of billions of dollars all on its own. There were preserved samples of a variety of meta-humans in tubes throughout the chamber, technicians, a few test subjects, and of course the equivalent of a few hospital rooms worth of drugs and equipment.

The head lab tech, Davidson, had actually worked for Wayson at one point; and was as mercenary as they came. Eyeball offered a share in the company to all his contributing employees; which meant that, if he made more from Reflex? Some of his employees made millions a year from those shares. Especially Davidson.

The tall, gaunt man had brought the latest Wayson developments with him when he came over right as Eyetech was starting; and helped make sure that Wayson would always be a few steps behind.

Eyeball stepped up, looking over Davidson's shoulder for a moment at what he was doing; whatever it was looked complicated. Some sort of 3-D model. He walked right by him, heading to one of the nurses who had been helping with dosages. "Robin tells me there was a breakthrough up here while I was gone. Clearly Davidson's still at it. Anything interesting?"

She glanced up. "Oh, of course! As you know, the current version we're selling, ROT, is basically just a less effective, safer, longer-lasting version of the old stuff. The CIA has been all over it. We've been selling higher-intensity stuff that'll kill anybody who isn't already super-human, the standard stuff, the low-dose stuff... we even have some tailored to blood types that make you heal faster for a while. But this..."

She nodded at a nearby man, tall, covered in scars and tattoos, wearing a simple surgical gown. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Bobby here has received the latest breakthrough, and we've been testing it for about a week now. Mind trying it out, Bobby?"

The man shivered. "Not at all, miss Joy."

Eyeball blinked, glancing at the Nurse's nametag for a moment, then back at the man. "Uhh.."

The Nurse chuckled. "Its a joke, sir. I'm a nurse, we both play Pokemon Go... "

He nodded. Most of his test subjects were volunteers. He only used people that needed to die for first-round tests that would likely kill the victim; because they were going to be executed after getting results anyway. So treating volunteers as friends was a positive note. "Good. So what exactly is Bobby going to try out?"

Bobby looked at Eyeball, and squinted. Suddenly, he moved. He was clearly not actually trying to hit anyone; but he stepped forward, delivering punches to either side of Eyeball's head with an abrupt blur of speed; not something at the level of a high-end speedster, but truly impressive.

Bobby stopped, as his swings started to slow down... looking happy, enthusiastic... until he noticed the handgun centered on his chest, Eyeball holding it steady in line with his heart. "Bobby. While I appreciate the demonstration, I'd advise you to target a punching bag next time. Not only will it show us how much power you can put into those punches, but it makes you less likely to die."

Bobby raised his hands, slowly backing away... as Eyeball put the 40mm revolver back in its holster. "So. I don't see any injectors. Not even the hidden under the shirt kind I usually wear. What just happened?"

The nurse grinned. "Its expensive. Over five million dollars a pop. But... we created an artificial organ, matched up to Bobby's cells, that creates a version of Reflex directly inside the body, using the nutrients you normally eat. Whenever your adrenaline starts pumping, or you flex your muscles just right? Puts just a little into your system. I think the DoD is gonna be all over this one."

Eyeball nodded thoughtfully. "... Davidson again?"

"Yes, sir."

Eyeball tapped the side of his helmet. "Cobalt, this is the boss. Give Davidson a bonus. Make it... five million." He released the tiny, invisible button. "How long until you can have one for me?"

"Well. When can you schedule the surgery? Davidson had one started for you, but has been altering it as we learn more about the process."

"..I don't want to interrupt him when he's working. Have him call me when he's free." Eyeball smiled. Something that would let him, any time, juice his reflexes up to match a Speedster for a few seconds? Considering his powers that should be all he would ever need.

"Oh. And keep this one in-house for now. We'll probably strictly be selling it to the Family, no matter what the CIA would offer."

***

Eyeball smiled as he stepped into his home; smelling something... faintly barbeque-scented in the air. Ahh. Was she cooking? That was a surprise. Normally Emerald preferred Eyeball do the cooking, or just having it delivered.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Walking down the two flights of stairs into the main living area of the home.. while beautiful, and decorated with ornaments that seemed to have a vaguely asian tone to them, it was still, essentially, an armored bunker, designed to keep the occupants alive in the event a nuke hit the island. The windows, in this section, were fake; upstairs were the real ones, though the pool in both places was fine. The entire upstairs home was, essentially, a decoy... just in case.

The middle of the home...

As he reached the bottom, he stepped out into an enormous open space, only broken by precisely positioned support girders; high-grade tungsten alloy, covered by a facade disguising them as roman-era columns. Enough room for Emerald to stretch her wings and fly around underground, even if the worst were to happen. This massive room included a kitchen, a dining area, bathrooms; and was connected to smaller, private areas; including, even further below, Eyeball's personal worskhop.

As he stepped into the kitchen area, he could see Emerald; she was humming to herself, tail wagging back and forth, wearing a simple pair of black shorts and a green tank-top.

Eyeball walked up behind her; deliberately making his steps loud, solid as he did so; sneaking up on someone who could accidentally burn the fridge into a puddle of molten slag wasn't the best idea. "Hey, sweetheart. Just got back from the lab. I'm thinking about cutting off the.. excursions... for a while."

So long as he wasn't wearing his signature armor and helmet, many of his little raids weren't going to be traced back to him; and in some countries, he didn't care.

Emerald's tail suddenly went completely straight back, alert, and she swiveled to glare at him. "...Did Ripper tell you!? I knew I shouldn't have told that bastard. Ugh." She glowered at Eyeball, crossing her arms. "Are you in here!? I'm gonna melt your face off!"

Eyeball blinked. "Uhh... did he tell me what? Why do we want to kill your brother all of a sudden?"

Emerald stopped. She tilted her head, frowning. "Oh. What was it at the lab?"

"Oh, Davidson found a way to give someone an implant, let them naturally make Reflex so they can just trigger a low dose any time they want. Now that we've got it solid and tested on Bobby, I was thinking of getting it done... but I'd want to stay home for a while after, get some practice, before going in the field after. Don't want to find out its a dud and need to get it removed when I'm in the middle of fighting someone I could use it on."

She chuckled. "Like you really need it. All the wonder-guns and what you can already do, you're a threat to just about anybody. But... I'd like it if you'd stay home for a bit. Doesn't have to start now, though. Maybe in about seven months."

He popped the helmet off. "Oh, sure. I guess I could arrange a few more things in the field, then come back. Why seven months?"

She shrugged.. and took a step closer, smiling at him.. casually taking his helmet, tossing it onto the couch. "Because thats about when the baby will be along, wouldn't want you to miss it."

Eyeball stood there like a statue for a moment. Frozen, jaw dropped. After a few seconds, his jaw shut once again; a steady grin lighting up his face. "That motherfucker. Thats what he was congratulating me for." He stepped in close, wrapping his arms around her waist, and swept her into the air, spinning her around.

"We're gonna be parents! Oh god. Is it gonna be a boy or a girl? Do we want to know in advance? Should we wait? What are we gonna name em? Is the house big enough? Should we.."

Emerald smiled back, pressing a single finger against his lips, silencing him, and abruptly stretched her wings, breaking free; and settling back on the floor. "Come on now. Calm down, don't want to damage the goods. I was hoping for a response kinda like that."

He chuckled. "Come on. How could I not react like that? The very idea of a tiny little Emerald running around..."

She laughed. "Or, god forbid, a tiny little Jason. Could you imagine?"

"Oof. Hope he isn't born with my power, or Apollo will be even more pissed. Some little toddler running around screwing with his timelines."

Emerald giggled. "Oh gods yes, imagine a little toddler trying to pick out a future where he gets two desserts."

"As opposed to one who can fly, I suppose. Maybe the precog would be better."

Emerald set a hand on his shoulder. "Or."

He met her gaze, curious.

"What if we get twins, and they have both? Flying, precognitive, fire-breathing toddlers."

"....I think we need to replace all of our appliances. I think I can probably make some flame-resistant, bullet-proof, ceramic casings in my workshop."

Emerald sniffed for a moment, and rushed back to the stove. "Sorry, just about burned dinner, hold up."

Eyeball smiled. This was about the most domestic he'd ever seen her. Not two weeks ago she was helping him carry loot out of a skyscraper in france.

***

Hours later, the duo had settled in on the couch, relaxing; Emerald reading a book, Eyeball working through his Japanese lessons; though a model of yet another helmet redesign was up on the tv. He glanced across the couch at her. "So. Are you willing to get married before you're a mom? Or still waiting?"

She grimaced... setting a bookmark in place. "Just when I was at the good part, you ruin things. Look... if you get married, it'll be on the news. My family will see. And... they'll come for me."

"I think we can handle as many guests as you need us to, sweetheart."

She tapped her knee for a moment, looking absently at the ceiling. "Hm. Maybe I should call Ripper in here, he was a year older than me, he knows even more than I do. But... How many flying dragon-girls do you know of?"

Eyeball blinked. "Huh. Actually... just you. I know of girls with wings, girls with scales, there's all sorts out there, but... you're actually the only flying scaly person I've ever heard of. Actually, that is a bit odd. Most people with some bestial mutation have some trace elements of the animal they mutated to resemble, and there isn't anything with both scales and wings, is there? Your brother makes perfect sense, though. Invisible reptile? Of course."

"There you go. I'm the only flying dragon-girl. Product of four generations of selective breeding. My mom is scaly and spits fire. My dad has wings and is fireproof. My great-grandma tried a whole bunch of times to get one of us with both wings and scales. And getting one with both -and- firebreathing? I was perfect."

"Wait." He stared at her for a moment, unblinking. "Was she... seriously trying to -make- a dragon by breeding people with some of the traits together?"

"Exactly. And once she had me, she wanted me to make hundreds of babies so she could spread out the line, start introducing other powers, and just make a whole race of dragons. It would've started off when I was thirteen, with Ripper's dad... but when Ripper heard me screaming? He knocked his dad out with a metal trash can, grabbed me, and we ran."

Emerald shrugged. "She'd approve wholeheartedly of me having kids with you. You're clearly the sort of power she'd want in the bloodline. But staying with you? No. She sees me on the news, pregnant, married? We'll have a whole host of criminals, both my whole clan and whoever great-grandma can hire, trying to grab me the next day."

A long, irritated sigh. "Courtesy of the Dragon Empress."