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The Junior Super-Criminals: Tooth & Nail	By : Meowshi Category: DC Verse Comics >no category yet > no category yet Views: 415 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters or locations used herein. Those are the property of Warner Bros. Discovery. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Princess and The Knave
- 2-Tooth & Nail
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- 2
THE HALL OF DOOM
JUNE 5 09:45 PM CST
"Recognized. Lana Luther, B-01. Welcome back to the Hall of Doom."
The corner of Lana’s mouth curled up in a pompous smirk as she stepped into the building and was welcomed by the supercomputer's friendly voice. The fifteen-year-old couldn't help but giggle at the audacity of the older villains to name their putrid, swampy fortress something so grandiose. She trailed a manicured fingertip along one of the murky corridors of the fortress, and wrinkled up her nose as her finger came back oily and wet.
How utterly repugnant this ‘base of operations’ continues to be, she thought with disdain.
Unlike the other members of the Junior Super-Criminals, Lana confidently defied the tradition of picking a codename and donning a costume. Instead of a tacky strip of colorful spandex, the blonde-haired girl exuded an air of elegance in her expensive private school uniform. Her black blazer, sitting gracefully atop her white collar shirt, proudly displayed the Luthor family crest. A striped green tie tastefully complemented the patterned black-and-green skirt that fell to her mid-thigh, and knee-length white socks hugged her shapely calves as she walked. Her attire was completed with a pair of polished black Mary Jane shoes, adding a touch of sophistication to her overall look. She preferred to let her cascading locks of golden-yellow hair frame her face, so she rarely tied it back or braided it. The length and sheen were a testament to her impeccable lineage and refined upbringing, after all.
And as far as coming up with a "supervillain name" goes, when you came from a family as prestigious as Luthor, you didn’t need a silly nom de guerre.
Her name didn’t just signify that she came from money, like that puffed-up, social climber Bartholomew Cobblepot. It also represented power. Her father, Lex Luthor, reigned as one of the world's most influential figures, and she stood poised to inherit his vast empire. Presuming, of course, that he hadn't indulged in the clichéd antics of cloning himself, transferring his consciousness into a robotic entity, or any other such supervillain nonsense. When it was her time to claim the throne, she would have to make sure every trace of her doting father was good and dead.
“M.E.G.A.N., has my associate arrived yet?” Lana asked while looking up at the red-lensed security camera.
"There are no other members of the Junior Super-Criminals currently on the premises," the supercomputer replied, its digitized voice flawlessly mimicking that of a young girl.
Lana let out a weary sigh, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Why must she always be so pathologically late!” she lamented.
"Don't pout," M.E.G.A.N. interjected friendly, "I can keep you company while you wait!"
Suddenly, a mesmerizing array of vibrant red lasers shot out from the security camera and weaved together, gracefully sculpting the image of a holographic young girl. The nanotech beams converged with precision, tracing the contours of her youthful form, like an artist breathing new life into a fresh character. Wearing a sundress, the holographic girl radiated an ethereal charm as she looked down at herself and spun playfully. The virtual, translucent garment shimmered and whirled as though it was made of tangible fabric. The supercomputer, known as the Manifested Emissary Generated via Advanced Nanotechnology, or M.E.G.A.N., smiled broadly as she offered a digital red hand to Lana.
The blonde heiress stared incredulously at the hologram for several seconds, before her forehead dropped into her palm.
“Do you really think I am so lonely as to need a fake girl to pretend to be my friend?” she said icily.
"What? No!" the hologram responded, looking taken aback. "I am the lonely one! Have you ever even thought about the fact that I am holed up in the empty facility at night while you're all out committing heists and living your lives?"
“Oh, spare me the melodramatics M.E.G.A.N.!” Lana responded and she rolled her eyes, “You’re a supercomputer. You’re one of the most powerful digital entities on the planet! You have access to practically any computer network on Earth!”
"Ah, the exciting life of a voyeur! Let me ask you this: what's the point in gazing upon a world I can never interact with? Why waste my time watching people chat, laugh, party, and build connections? The world is teeming with people forming friendships, but will I ever experience such a deep bond?" the hologram mused with more than a tinge of melancholy.
“Damn it, computer!” Lana exclaimed, her dainty foot stomping in frustration. “This is a group of supervillians, not an after-school social club! And you aren’t an actual girl, you’re a series of cables and circuits! You don’t need a friend, you need a reboot!”
The holographic girl glared back at Lana for several seconds before dematerializing in a shower of red sparks. If she didn’t know any better, Lana could have sworn she saw a streak of digital red tears falling down the girl’s cheek a second before she blinked out of existence. But that was impossible. Right?
"Fine, be that way! Meanie!" M.E.G.A.N.'s voice shouted out over the intercom, "Just know that I am in every camera in this facility, so I know exactly what you and your “associate” get up to while no one is looking!"
Flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, Lana's face turned crimson as she stomped defiantly down the corridor, retreating to the solace of her room and slamming the door shut like a petulant child.
THE HALL OF DOOM
JUNE 5 10:35 PM CST
"Recognized. Jester, B-02."
With a pinch of her nose, Mary Maker, known more commonly as Jester, hurriedly entered the facility. A wave of immense relief washed over her as the door closed tightly behind her, effectively sealing out the noxious fumes of the bayou outside.
"Christ, Megan! Can't ya light up some incense or somethin'? This place reeks like Swamp Thing’s arsehole,” the foul-mouthed thirteen-year-old declared while dramatically wafting her hand in front of her nose.
Engrossed in her own twisted thoughts, the criminally-insane little girl absentmindedly scratched her backside, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny of the security camera fixated upon her. The girl’s youthful countenance was as white as a corpse, an unfortunate side-effect of her crippling addiction to joker venom. A wide, rictus grin extended from her lips to her cheeks, disturbingly painted onto her pale flesh with precision and artistry. A heavy layer of purple eyeshadow emphasized her captivating stare, contrasting prettily with her emerald irises.
Clad in a form-fitting, black-and-purple jester’s costume, she exuded an air of mischievous charm, though the heavily-stained and distressed appearance of the attire also hinted towards her dangerous instability. Her hair was cut short and felt dry and fragile to the touch, a result of too many coloring jobs. Usually a striking shade of violet, the hair was currently concealed by a long jester's cap, in the same colors and style as the large decorative frill around her neck. Both the frill and the jester’s cap were capped with rattling rat bones rather than bells, giving her an unsettling grim appearance.
Swiftly succumbing to boredom, the teenaged terrorist shifted her attention toward the security camera and yawned dramatically.
“Well, is her Royal Prissiness here or not?” she demanded, her squeaky voice dripping with a mixture of eagerness and impatience.
"You are late. Again." M.E.G.A.N. finally responded, "I believe Lana is off sulking in her personal quarters."
“Everything alright?” Jester asked, noting the melancholy tone of the supercomputer’s digitized voice.
"Everything is perfectly fine!" the supercomputer snapped, its voice laced with annoyance. In a peculiar display of mimicry, the security camera abruptly shifted, twisting to the side as if imitating the indignant gesture of a person turning their head to end a conversation.
Jester giggled in response, the sound escaping her throat like the hissing of a punctured lung. For some reason, the deathly-pale delinquent was endlessly amused by the unexplainable emotionality of the computerized girl.
With a mischievous grin adorning her face, the clown princess of crime skipped over to the door that led to Lana's room, ready to announce herself with a theatrical knock. However, before her hand could even grace the surface, the door swung open with gusto, and the unsuspected girl was roughly yanked into the room.

Lana Luthor’s piercing blue eyes were laced with hatred as she flung the pale girl into her room and slammed the door closed.
“You. Inconsiderate. Little. Bitch!” she snarled through gritted teeth, her hands twisting into furious, clenched fists at her sides.
The diminutive jester only grinned wider in response to the rude greeting, shrugging playfully. “You won’t believe it, but that’s the third time I’ve been called that this week!”
“Do I appear to be in the mood for jesting?” Lana demanded, her petite frame visibly shaking with fury.
“Listen dollface, I didn't mean to be so late!" Jester retorted, raising her hands in surrender. "Me and Mr. J ran into a couple o' those Mormons back in Gotham, you know, those preachy fellas that ride those little bikes around botherin’ everyone? So, I'm staring at 'em, right? And a thought pops into my head—how would their pristine white shirts look with a fresh coat of red? Well, I try to walk away but I just couldn't get that thought out of my head until I did something about it! I'm an artist, Els!”
As if to accentuate her story, she unsheathed her bat from its holster on her back and slammed it onto Lana's floor with a flourish. Splotched with congealing blood, the bat looked as though it had recently been used in a massacre. There was something small glinting on the weapon, and Lana leaned in closer to examine it, her natural curiosity getting the best of her. She quickly recoiled in horror, recognizing it as a sliver of human tooth that had been embedded into the wood. The sight made the blonde-haired girl's stomach turn and she had to clench her jaw shut to suppress her revulsion.
“You stood me up for an hour so you could go brutalize some bible-thumpers?! What the hell is wrong with you?” she screamed.
“I didn’t fucking stand you up, I'm here aren’t I?” Jester cried defensively, anger allowing her Gothamite twang to creep into her voice, “You know, princess, psychologists say it's a form of passive-aggressive to keep harping on about being punctual when you know damn well the person you're meeting with is gonna be fashionably late.”
Lana Luthor's composure shattered. In a primal display of rage, she unleashed a menacing snarl and launched herself at Jester, forcefully throwing the smaller girl to the ground. With an iron grip, she clasped her hands tightly around the girl’s pale neck, throttling her mercilessly. In a flurry of uncontrolled fury, Lana repeatedly slammed the girl's head against the unforgiving floor, unleashing her pent-up anger.
“I won’t be mocked! Not by you! Not by anyone!” the blonde girl screamed savagely.
Despite the repeated impact of her head slamming against the floor, Jester's response was far from expected. Instead of fear or pain, the mini masochist giggled, relishing the disorienting sensation that the savage beating sent coursing through her deranged mind. The jarring blows caused her to hallucinate images of chirping birds in the periphery of her vision, and she lunged forward to grab them and twist little their necks.
“Oh goodness!” Lana squealed, jerking her hands away from her friend’s neck and backing away in horror, “What have I done? I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry Jester!”
“What for?” Jester's throat was scratchy and dry as she affectionately embraced Lana. “It’s in your genes, girl! Luthors are known for their intensity; that was nothing but foreplay!”
Lana's face flushed with embarrassment, and she swiftly pushed the girl away, creating a physical distance between them.
“What’s wrong?” Jester asked, a look of genuine hurt and confusion on her usually jolly face.
The blonde-haired heiress discreetly pointed toward the security camera at the top of her room.
“Worried about our nosy little red friend, eh?” the spritely little jester teased. “No worries, dollface. I've got just the trick!”
A wide smile spread over Jester's face as her fingers plunged into the tight fabric of her leotard and began fiddling around. Just before Lana could scold her for playing with herself, she pulled out a small purple-topped can of aerosol spray. Jester winked at her friend before leaping backward onto her bed, proceeding to bounce higher and higher until she got just enough momentum to reach the camera. “Show's over, Megan!” she exclaimed, as she spritzed a thick layer of purple paint onto the lens.
The pale-skinned girl landed back on the bed with her legs crossed and took a dramatic bow, before gazing wantonly back at Lana.
“There, now no one will ever know what a sick little lesbian slut Luthor’s daughter is!” she said teasingly.
Lana’s face cheeks grew as red as a tomato and she averted her eyes. “...I’m not a lesbian,” she insisted indignantly.
“Of course not! Me neither!” Jester said as she leaned over to inhale Lana’s sophisticated, floral perfume. “I certainly don’t feel my heart flutterin’ whenever I get close to ya.”
The spritely jester snaked her arm through Lana’s long tresses of blonde hair to grab the back of her head and ran her tongue along the length of the older girl’s neck. “And I can’t recall ever spending an entire night with my mitts digging between my legs just imagining what I would do the next time I clapped eyes on ya,” she continued, her tiny voice growing husky.
Her free hand slowly danced up Lana’s legs, first skipping past her knee-length socks, then waltzing up the inside of her skirt, before finally flattening itself against her warm, pantied entrance. “And I've absolutely never gotten so flustered thinkin’ about you that I had to switch up my costume just so that Mr. J and the others wouldn’t think I pissed myself.”
“J-Jester, stop teasing me!” Lana cried out as she trembled under the younger girl’s experienced fingers.
"Sorry, luv," Jester cooed in her back-alley accent as she began peeling off Lana's clothes, "But you said it yourself. My name's Jester. Teasin’ folks is kind of my entire personality, ya know?"

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙
Real Name: Lana Alexandria Luthor
Main Alias: Lana Luthor
Supervillian Mentor: Lex Luthor
Base of Operations: LexCorp Tower, Metropolis
Powers and Abilities: Genius Level Intellect, Hand-to-Hand Combat (Basic), Wealth
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The Junior Super-Criminals: Tooth & Nail