Jon Kent: Made Of Steel(Superboy Self Insert)

More advanced chapters on Patreon.com/Saintbarbido.

Bit of an info-dump.

Sorry about yesterday's missed upload. I was caught up in research.

:--:

(Jon's P.O.V)

One week was all it took to understand the depths of Waller's cruel genius.

Belle Reve was designed to break people.

Not just physically, but mentally. The prison wasn't just a holding facility for metahumans—it was a machine, built to grind down egos, identities, and whatever hope might have lingered when they first arrived.

The Inhibitor collars made sure of that.

They didn't just suppress abilities or stun; they turned strengths into dead weight.

Fire manipulators felt more cold than others. Speedsters were forced to trudge through the halls at less than normal human speeds.

Psychics were locked inside their own minds. At night, you could hear their screams as they were force-fed Nightmares through the collars.

Icicle Jr's entire body would be dripping with sweat in the morning, after enduring uncomfortable heat through the night.

The true purpose of these collars? Humiliation. All in service of Waller's need for control.

Even though the dampening field around the penitentiary kept us powerless, punishment through electric stuns occured at the slightest mistep and sometimes even at random.

A constant reminder that no matter how strong we used to be, we were nothing here but her pawns. Slaves and she the Master.

That's what she wanted us to believe.

But I knew better. And it was only a matter of time until I showed her how wrong she was.

-0-

That said, my power study was not off to a smooth start. Contrary to my expectations, I couldn't scan every meta-ability.

At first, I had assumed Oneness would allow me to analyze any power and learn it's ins and outs.

But as I observed my fellow inmates, studied, and experimented, I realized a frustrating limitation.

I could only sense and scan elemental manipulators.

It made sense.

Inmates with elemental abilities—fire, ice, wind, lightning—emitted subtle energy waves that bypassed the dampeners' restrictions.

It wasn't intentional; their bodies naturally interacted with the world differently.

Even with their powers suppressed, their presence hummed, like background radiation, which my heightened awareness easily picked up on.

But other abilities? Physical enhancements like Mammoth's brute strength or bizarre mutations like Polka-Dot Man? Nothing. No waves. No signatures. No frequencies to analyze.

That meant if I wanted to make progress, I needed to narrow my focus.

So I did.

During the day, I watched and analyzed the male elemental inmates.

At night, I compiled everything Raven sent me through our telepathic link—memories and stolen moments from the female wing, detailing how they had used their abilities in the past.

By the end of the week, my theory was solid.

There were two types of elemental manipulators.

Metahumans, whose abilities were tied to their DNA—like my Kryptonian biology under a yellow sun.

And magic users, who served as conduits for 'mystical forces' that existed beyond them—like my Light magic.

I couldn't be either.

I didn't have a metagene, and my body was already saturated with light magic, making access to other elemental energies nearly impossible.

That was fine.

Because I wasn't here to 'gain' elemental abilities.

I was here to awaken my Seeds of Potential —either Chi or Psionics. And the mental models of these studied abilities could help with that.

The problem was, I didn't know how.

And that's where Icicle Jr came in. As an Ice meta and my cellmate, he was the perfect target to study.

To be fair, Icicle wasn't the kind of guy I had expected to befriend in prison.

At first, he had been standoffish, clearly skeptical of my whole Dagger persona. And who could blame him?

To everyone else, I was just some eccentric light manipulator with a ridiculous sense of theatrics.

But after I saved his life, that changed.

It happened in the mess hall.

Icicle Jr. had been trying—again—to get in with his father's gang. It was a predictable move.

Every kid with a powerful legacy tried to prove themselves in a place like this. Problem was, his father's crew didn't see him as an asset but a liability.

When he sat at their table, Icicle Sr barely glanced up from his meal. Mister Freeze, ever the pragmatic one, didn't even acknowledge him.

The real trouble came from Mammoth and Brick—two of the dumbest, meanest bruisers in the prison.

"You don't belong here, Jr.," Brick sneered, shoving his tray aside. "Your old man already decided you're a failure."

Icicle Jr tensed. "Screw you."

Mammoth grinned, standing up and cracking his knuckles. "Oh, we will."

Every inmate and guard in the lunch hall was watching with anticipation, eager for a fight.

I had seen this play out before in my past life. The weak guy gets humiliated in front of the power players. If they take it, they become the gang's errand boy. If they fight back, they get beaten into the floor.

Icicle Jr. was about to make a choice he couldn't win. And no one was doing anything to stop it.

"F*ck me." I sighed, setting down my own tray.

"Hey, guys," I called out leaving my empty table and stopping a few paces from them. "If you're gonna beat someone up, could you at least do it after lunch? I'd rather not get blood in my mashed potatoes. That would simply be 'artless'"

Get it? No? Okay then...moving on.

Mammoth turned, squinting at me like I was a booger stain on his shirt. "You got a problem, new guy?"

Yes. Your overinflated disproportionate muscle mass.

"Not at all," I said smoothly. "I just figured that if anyone gets to beat up Ice Boy, it should be me. He's my project."

Icicle Jr. gave me a sharp glare. "What?!"

Mammoth and Brick, to my surprise, actually paused.

Then Brick frowned. "Did you just claim him?"

I blinked. Claim him? Was that how the prison hierarchy worked?

Before I could process that, Brick ran out of patience and swung.

He was trained. A Southpaw infact but in my eyes, slow, clumsy and Predictable.

I sidestepped easily, extending my arm in the same motion—his own momentum flipped him over me, sending him crashing into the next table.

The entire mess hall went silent. Then it erupted in racous chants of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'

"You're deadmeat newbie!" Mammoth growled and lunged, swinging a massive fist down at me.

Oneness kicked in.

Instead of dodging, I adjusted my stance, letting his attack overshoot. Then I 'lightly' kicked his knee—just enough to send him 'stumbling forward', where he landed face-first in his own food tray.

Captain Cold let out a single laugh. "Did that just happen?"

Mammoth wiped mashed potatoes from his face, snarling. He was furious, but Icicle Sr held up a hand and in a low voice said, "Enough. Not here."

Mammoth hesitated, then stormed off, Brick following close behind, Icicle Sr who spared me a curious glance as he led his gang away.

Funny, our altercation had not resulted in punishment from the guards who only kept watching from the railings above.

Glancing around, my eyes fell on Dr.Harleen, staring at me from the observation deck in interest. I gave her a wink and she responded by jotting something down before walking out of view.

"Man, those pencil skirts should be outlawed, am I right?" I asked my cellmate, giving a low whistle.

Icicle Jr. just stared at me, like he had no idea whether to thank me or punch me.

"That was…" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know what that was."

I smirked, picking up my tray again. "That was me keeping my mashed potatoes blood-free. You're welcome."

From that moment on, Icicle Jr. and I were friends.

It couldn't have happened at a better time either.

Through him, I learned alot about Belle Reve. The power dynamics, unspoken rules, history, rumors and the best part, interesting characters.

One of whom I sought out for help with my problem on how to turn the Mental Model of Icicle's Ice manipulation, into practical application.

It was laundry duty when I finally tracked him down in the washing area, loading clean uniforms into a trolley.

Professor Ivo—one of the smartest minds in the world—had been reduced to folding prison uniforms all because of me. But don't tell him that.

The man looked miserable, his once-brilliant mind wasted on menial labor.

This was an opportunity.

I walked up, flashing Dagger's signature grin. "Professor Ivo! The true artist of science! What an honor it is to make your acquaintance Sir. My name is-"

He barely looked up while cutting me off. "Go away."

I clutched my chest dramatically. "Come now, Professor. You wound me! I only wish to shake the hand of the man who brought 'gods' to their knees. I mean, I doubt T.O Morrow has the capability!"

That got his attention. Especially with the mention of his eternal rival.

Ivo's hands paused over the fabric, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Amazo," I said simply.

His grip tightened slightly. He was hooked.

I leaned in. "How did you do it? How did Amazo copy powers? What's the science behind stealing the abilities of gods? I mean even in this age such a feat is astoundingly unbelievable! Ah, if only I had a genius mind like yours."

Ivo hesitated, but in the end, his 'pride' won. Everyone lowers their guard when talking about their passions.

"Bio-field scanning and vibrational agitation," he muttered, a touch of excitement in his words.

I tilted my head, tapping my chin in confusion. "Big words, Professor. Break it down for a humble fool like myself?"

Ivo sighed, but he was standing straight and focused, the uniforms forgotten. Everyone else simply ignored us.

"Amazo doesn't actually steal powers," he explained. "It analyzes the energy waves every ability produces. Every power—whether it's Superman's strength, Flash's speed, or Canary's scream—has a unique vibrational frequency. Amazo scans those waves, identifies the bio-field signature, and replicates it."

The realization hit me like a thunderbolt.

I am an idiot.

Powers weren't just meta or magical abilities.

They were 'frequencies'. Vibrations with their own varied oscillations and speeds.

The mental models I had built from studying Icicle and other elemental powers weren't just abstract ideas.

They were energy wavelengths waiting to be transmitted.

I had spent all this time receiving these frequencies. Whether it was Raven and M'gann's thoughts through the mind link, or my Dad's bio-kinetic aura...Oneness received and perceived them as vibrations.

But receiving and perceiving weren't enough.

I needed to broadcast. To transmit. I could sense them, intangible as they were. The next step was contact and control.

That night, in my cell, I focused on the Ice Mental Model.

I traced its frequency, the same subtle hum that Icicle Jr emitted from the bunk below me.

I felt its vibrational state—then, slow speed but powerful. Once I had the pattern down and used Oneness to reverse it's path, instead of receiving it, I transmitted it outward.

A pressure built within the seed behind my forehead.

Then, it suddenly burst.

I opened my eyes just as Frost 'erupted' from my body, covering my bed sheets and cell in a layer of ice.

The temperature plummeted with the rapid expansion of frost, culminating in a massive 'ice structure that exploded outward, shattering the glass door of the cell.

Alarms instantly blared.

Icicle Jr. bolted upright. "WHAT THE HELL, DAGG?!"

I barely heard him.

Because something else had awakened. The first seed of potential had bloomed into a shoot with roots spreading through my entire brain.

I could now sense every mind in the prison.

My psionics had awakened.

And this was just the beginning.