Only Human
1.
Lex Luther sat, alone, surveying the city of Metropolis beneath him.
The sun was setting behind the sprawling skyline, the sky's shades of tangerine and blue growing darker behind the silhouettes of high-rise buildings. Buildings constructed because of him. Jobs created because of him. Livelihoods, families... All indebted to him.
And yet despite all he'd done for these people, these thankless peons, he would never be heralded as a champion by them.
Despite the enormous wealth he'd amassed. Despite the immense power he'd ascertained over the years of his life. He realized, spitefully, that it didn't matter to the human cattle beneath him that one of their own could achieve as much as he had.
They didn't want to win. They wanted to live in the shadow of a winner. Someone they could safely resign themselves to admiring, someone they could write off as being gifted. Someone that was born that way, so that they would never have to suffer the pain of trying to better themselves; never have to feel the hurt of trying to rise above.
And yet as philosophically different as he was to the masses – as superior as he was – Luther was now being painfully reminded that he had more in common with the average schmuck than the average schmuck deserved.
Lex Luthor was, ultimately, human.
And Lex Luthor was dying.
Lex took another sip of whiskey. Whiskey that cost more than a month's rent for most citizens in Gotham; from a crystal glass that cost more than most people's car. Prices created by a faceless marketing team somewhere – no doubt, employed by him. A roomful of cheap ties and business dresses, determining the value of trinkets, making sure they're expensive enough to impress the stupid.
It was these dumb, bland sheep that parted their hair and fixed their collars to work for him from Monday to Friday. The same uncouth reprobates that then squandered their earnings on the weekend, desperate to purchase status; scurrying to buy respect.
These simpletons, clamouring to achieve a fraction of what Lex had.
And yet, who do they celebrate? These simple lemmings, striving for mediocrity - who do they look up to?
The entrepreneur that made Metropolis the business capital of the world? The self-made billionaire? The embodiment of the American dream?
No.
They choose the alien.
They idolize him.
He, who they could never dream to compete with. It, which they could never strive to emulate.
Lex took another sip, sighed, and watched as lights started flickering on in the skyscrapers throughout the urban expanse that lay before him. To the east, he could see the girders of the construction site for the new 30 story office building being erected. Offices needed because of jobs he created. It dawned on him that he wouldn't be alive to see the building's construction finished.
He rose and walked out on the balcony. The last rays of sunlight were being swallowed by darkness.
Lex surveyed his kingdom. Few men in history had accomplished what he had, and he'd done it all without ever needing to do something as barbaric as drawing a sword. As much as he admired the likes of Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, he wondered if they'd ever have been able to thrive as he had in the 21st century. Great leader's though they were, they never had to contend with social media, with unions… with him.
And it was this kinship he felt with great rulers that gave birth to his final plan. Just as the Pharaohs were buried with all their earthly possessions, so too would the great Lex Luthor.
And after all, Metropolis was his.
Lex Luthor finished his drink, then tossed aside the crystal glass. He watched it shatter into dozens of fragments. Just seconds ago, it had been a valuable part of an expensive set. It had belonged somewhere. It had been beautiful. It had worth, it meant something. Now, it was junk. Its absence amongst the set the only thing left to define it.