Inviolate

Chapter 2

by Scriviner

All rights belong to owners, I make no claim to any of these chars.

EDIT: This chapter has been edited so that it makes more sense in the context of US Patent Law. Much thanks to Maximara for his assistance.

He was no stranger to Metropolis City's Metro Room. The rich, the powerful, the famous and those who fell under all of the above came here. Lex Luthor certainly qualified for an 'all of the above' even if he was no longer President. Even though the company he'd built had been gutted and sold for scraps, if anyone deserved to be at the Metro Room, it was Lex. Since it opened in the ninties-- the 1890's-- it had been a second home to corporate sharks, robber barrons and wannabes of the same. The Metro Room's dining area had been used so often in the past for corporate wheeling, dealing and wining and dining that the management had discreetly installed Lexcorp made sound baffles that prevented sounds from passing between booths.

Back in the day, it had given Lex a great deal of amusement to listen in on those conversations, as no one knew that the sound baffle technology could also be used to record things for Lex's private use. The Metro Room had the pulse of Metropolis' business scene, and Lex had had his finger on that pulse. In fact, he'd put a needle into it and had bled it dry as much as he could. It felt strange to him to be here once again without Lexcorp backing him up.

For a change, he was here as a private citizen. Just Lex Luthor... former president Lex Luthor, granted, but he was not here as Lex Luthor, CEO of Lexcorp. He tugged lightly at the cuffs of his impecably tailored black suit and ran a hand over his smooth scalp, letting himself sink deeper into the rich, red leather of the booth's seats. The Metro Room had had their decor redone in the 80's changing from the lighter, elegant blonde woods to mahogany, gold trim and red leather. It was opulent, decadent and fairly screamed money. When a cup of coffee cost more than a meal at lesser dining establishments and the lunch entrees ran into the high three figures, there was no way the decor would not be up to scratch. The menus had no prices. If one had to ask about the cost of a menu item in the Metro Room, one clearly should be eating elsewhere. The Maitre'd was quick to invite such a boor to take their business down the street to the local Denny's.

He rose to his feet at the approach of his lunch-time appointment. The woman, dressed in a well-tailored beige power suit, seemed just a tiny bit intimidated by her surroundings. Her purse matched her shoes in that they were expensive, but not excessively so and quite understated for the surroundings. She was doing an excellent job of covering it up, but Luthor's practiced eye picked up on her discomfort. A slight flinch, a tiny bit of terror in her eye that was her asking herself how she'd gotten there. Not just of the rich surroundings, but of him. That was just perfect, he mused, favoring her with a perfectly white, shark-like smile. He wanted her just a bit off-balance. Just a little bit off her game. The Metro Room gave him home court advantage. The Maitre'd showed her to his booth and bowed away elegantly, unobtrusive and efficient.

"Miss Tyler," Lex greeted her smoothly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She dimpled prettily and tried to smile back. There was a bit of a kid at play behind that smile. She was an attractive brunette, pale-skinned and just a tiny bit too skinny to be healthy. Someone who skipped too many meals and lived on her nerves and coffee. "It's my pleasure, Mr. Luthor, but please call me Rebecca."

"Rebecca it is, then." He responded, still smiling, and helping her into her seat, "Call me Lex. I took the liberty of ordering our drinks and a few apetizers. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Mr-- I mean, Lex."

He gave a nod the the attentive waiter who stood near the booth. The young man swept in silently, bearing a green glass bottle of red wine that he poured into a pair of wine glasses. They raised their glasses to one another before Rebecca took a tentative sip. Lex gave his glass the full benefit of a wine connoisour's treatment. Swirling it and inhaling the rich fragrance before taking a small taste.

The woman's eyes widened. "That's amazing. I don't think I've ever had anything like it."

"I doubt you would have," he replied casually, "It's a twenty eighty-six Javitz. Only a single barrel was ever found."

"Did you say twenty?"

"Yes. The bottle turned up back in 1986 at the Javitz monastary in Spain. A single oak barrel had appeared in the middle of a root cellar. No wine had ever been brewed at Javitz before. The barrel was so large as to have been impossible to carry into the cellar's small door. The label said that the wine was placed in the barrel in September third, twenty eighty six. The Abbot suspected that it was God's way of telling them to get into the wine-making business. A few physicists have actually examined the wine and found an unusually high concentration of chronoton particles, indicating that the wine did in fact do some time travelling."

"That's amazing."

"It also happens to be a terribly good wine. Supposedly the chronoton particles are undetectable by the human palette, but more than one drinker has claimed to be able to taste hints of their next meal in the wine." He chuckled, "I think it's all the power of suggestion, but you never know."

"This is obviously a very expensive wine, Lex."

"I won't insult you by telling you how expensive."

She smiled at him, tighter now, a little more guarded. She'd gotten over her bedazzlement at Luthor and the Metro Room and his terribly good wine. "As flattering as all this is, Lex, I do have to wonder why you're lavishing me with this attention."

He smiled winningly over his wine glass, treating her to a faux-smoky glare full of flirtation. "You mean you don't think I'm doing this just for your company?"

A suppressed snort escaped her lips. It would've been a laugh, but she'd caught it in time. "You used to regularly date supermodels. Your ex-wife was a contessa and considered one of the most beautiful women of the 90's. I clean up nicely, but not that nicely."

He straightened up, dropping the flirtation, but still wearing elegant dignity like a familiar coat. "I'll admit, I am trying to soften you up somewhat, but it is for something that would benefit us both, immensely."

"I'm listening."

Just then their server returned, bearing a multitude of tiny plates with a dizzying variety of tiny morsels of food. "I wasn't quite certain what would be to your taste, so I ordered a little bit of everything." He reached out, plucking an amuse bouche of fennel and savory bits delicately between thumb and forefinger. "We'll have time enough to talk business after we eat. Hopefully you'll let me get away with more then." He winked at her.

They ate in silence for a while. Business forgotten and what conversation there was limitted itself to the polished, polite small-talk of big business and the occassional delighted exclamation of pleasure at the delicious food.

Lex leaned back finally, patting his lips clean after polishing off the last of his dessert, a brownie-a-la-mode drowning in caramel. The silently efficient server brought black coffee out for both of them. "It has been too long since I ate here last." He remarked with deep and abiding satisfaction.

She was still working on licking her spoon absolutely clean, eyes rolled back ecstatically over what was possibly the most incredible cheesecake she had ever tasted. "Lex, if you were trying to put me into a good mood to hear your pitch, it worked." She sighed happily, setting the spoon down. "So, to business. What can I do for you? Or rather what can TylerCo do for you?"

"As you're no doubt aware, LexCorp is essentially no more." Lex said, steepling his hands across his stomach as he took lounged back.

"I'd heard." She ventured cautiously.

"Yes, somehow Wayne got his hooks into Ms. Head," he pronounced it properly, making it rhyme with 'steed'. "And managed to pretty much sell him my entire company while I was busy being President." He treated her to a wry, sardonic look. "I should be resentful, but honestly, it's actually freed me up to work on some other pursuits."

"What would those be?"

"I'm sure you can understand how stressful and time consuming running a corporation is, Rebecca."

She flashed a small grin, "TylerCo can be a handful sometimes. Business is picking up, though."

"I'm certain it is. I understand you're finally managing to pull out of the slump you've been in."

"Things are better." She murmurred, just a tiny bit defensive. He knew perfectly well how much of a 'slump' TylerCo had been in. Until she'd taken over for her drug-addled cousin when his father had died, the company had been hemoraging money. "We're actually starting to expand again."

"That's wonderful." He responded enthusiastically. "And I would hate any sort of negative publicity to touch on that."

"I beg your pardon?" The hint of defensiveness was now fully formed. The earlier pleasure of her meal, being erased by her slowly rising alarm.

"Sorry, I lost track. As I was saying, I have more free time now. No pressures, less worries... I've finally gotten a bit more time in the lab lately and I'd stumbled across a fascinating potential application for a derivative of an existing compound."

She sipped the bitter coffee and made a small face at it before responding, "And did you need our help to develop it further?"

"Oh, not at all. I've already managed the development fine on my own. In fact I was ready to swing into full production. Unfortunately, there were some strange issues revolving around the ownership of the patent that's making things difficult for me." He admitted.

"Please, go on. I'm still not quite hearing the part about how I can help you out."

"Well, I suppose I should just come out and say it... Professor Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, fellow from Gotham? I'm sure you've heard of him."

"Yes, a supervillain." She said dismissively, "Fights Batman, I think. He scares people, right?"

"Yes, he uses a blend of various narcotics, hallucinogens and psychoactive drugs into something he calls his fear toxin. I've found a cheap procedure for manufacturing vast amounts of phobaline hydrochorate, the active ingredient in fear toxin. Pennies on the gallon for a chemical that's effective in doses of under a microgram."

"You want us to manufacture for you?" She asked in surprise and suspicion. "What use would it be? I mean, besides being a terror weapon."

"Well, combined with the delivery system I've developed, this could be the next tear gas. Imagine it," He leaned forward, letting enthusiasm color his voice. "The perfect non-lethal deterrent. Tear gas, knock out gas, regurgitants and all those other aerosol based discouragement systems have various risks associated with them. Someone's allergic, the results are messy, people are still getting hurt... Foam based detention systems are messy and slow. Fear toxin is non-toxic, fast-acting, breaks down harmlessly inside those exposed within a few minutes. You can adjust the dose on the same grenade to make targets run away or stay in one spot, cowering in terror or even induce fainting. Best of all, there's already an antidote that's widely available that can be taken ahead of time to keep the police from being affected by their own fear toxin."

"Based on the Scarecrow's formula," she responded dubiously. "I'm not sure how well that would sell... and even if it did, wouldn't the Scarecrow have objections? Isn't he one of the crazy ones?"

"He's an interesting character," Lex admitted to Rebecca's wide-eyed surprise. "I've actually been communicating with a few police departments who have expressed tentative interest in doing a test run. Hub City, Central City, Keystone, DC... My people were actually in talks with Professor Crane to see if he'd owned the patent to it, and whether he'd be interested in selling the rights for manufacture. The whole venture has the chance to make all involved quite wealthy." Lex paused as he considered that statement then added with a playful grin. "Well, wealthier."

"So did he sell you the rights?"

"This is actually the part where you and TylerCo come into the picture, Rebecca. As it turns out, and I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this, but Professor Crane really was a crook. Right before we were to finalize the paperwork, one of my research people turned this up..." He reached into the briefcase he had next to him and produced a small folder. He passed it over to her.

Her brow furrowed prettily as she looked at the folder's contents. There were a half dozen stapled photocopied pages. The copies were off-center and the copier had been running low on toner, but there was just barely enough for it to be readable. "I'm not sure what you're showing me. These look like patent documents. These're stamped top secret." She looked up at him in alarm.

"The researcher, who has a cousin in the US Patent office, found it for us. It's a classified patent owned by the US Army, still currently sealed for national security purposes. Same as the original atom bomb patents."

She flashed a dubious glance at him. "Your researcher got this from his cousin?"

"That's what he told me." Lex returned in a neutral tone.

"Why are you showing this to me, then?" She asked.

"I have doubts about their authenticity. Named on the document under the original application and signing it as 'on behalf of the US Army', it says Bannermain Chemicals. The original name of what would later become Tyler Chemicals, now known as TylerCo." He paused significantly, while she found where it said that on the page. "This is where you come in, my dear."

"This doesn't make any sense, Mr L-- Lex. To my knowledge our company's never made this stuff. Also, if the patent is owned by the army, shouldn't you be approaching them?"

"I fully intend to, however, I need to make sure I have all my ducks in a row prior to that point. On the one hand, they allow Scarecrow to get away with creating and using the phobaline hypochorate, but he is just a lone murderous lunatic. I'm certain they wouldn't want it getting around that his main weapon of choice was actually owned by Uncle Sam. On the other hand, I am planning on making large amounts of money with this. I'm certain they'd take a dim view on that and may try to prevent me from manufacturing after I've sunk more resources into the project. Even with my friends in DC, I'm reluctant to start calling in favors so soon after my brush with impeachment."

She was silent for a long moment as she looked the papers over more closely. "This application was for 1941. Wouldn't the patent ownership have run out in the sixties? I doubt they could go after you on that basis."

"Normally, but as I said, it's still classified. They could try to get me under breaking National Security. I'm certain my lawyers would be better than theirs, I'd rather not get embroiled in that if I can avoid it. Too much time and money wasted if that were to happen."

"What did you want me to do then?"

"I need to confirm if this patent is true. If TylerCo, in its previous incarnation was responsible for the original formula. Discreetly, of course."

She ran her fingers through her hair, "I don't know Lex. This sounds suspiciously like you're trying to get me in the middle of a legal battle for patent rights in something that my company's most certainly not involved in."

"This isn't entirely for my benefit, either. If it turns out that TylerCo finds evidence that they invented the original fear gas, I'll be more than happy to assist you in any way you need to keep that information well buried."

"Why would we need to do that?"

"Well, first of all imagine the potential for public backlash. Perhaps the rest of the country might not react too much, but in Gotham it would be like telling people you manufactured Zyklon-B for the Nazis."

"Surely it wouldn't be that bad!"

"The only way it would be worse would be if people were told that you made Joker's Smilex for him." Lex said gravely. "The bigger problem actually wouldn't be with regards to your company perception, but from the Scarecrow himself."

"A lone crazy wearing rags and straw." she snorted.

"A very clever murderous psychopath who has always claimed that he invented the fear toxin. What do you think his reaction would be if it got out that someone might be stealing his thunder as it were?"

She ended up covering her eyes as she leaned forward tiredly. "This opens TylerCo to all sorts of problems." Her lip quirked slightly. "I suppose I should be glad you waited until after the meal to bring this up."

"I apologize if it seems that I'm the one putting you in this position, but I do need your help," Lex reached a hand out and lightly took one of Rebecca's hands in his. "I don't know anyone else I could turn to. Aside from the one researcher, I haven't been able to get independent confirmation on this. For some reason my contacts in the patent office have frozen me out. People I could ask favors from in DC haven't been taking my calls." His eyes were pleading. "I just want you to see if TylerCo has any records of the PTHC manufacturing process that would let us coroborate that patent information. I'd owe you a huge favor."

She flushed slightly and glanced down at his hand, finding herself squeezing back on his fingers almost involuntarily. "I... I don't know..."

"Ahh, Rebecca... this is what business is about. You see problems, I see an opportunity." Lex leaned forward, bringing his face closer to her and dropping his voice to an intimate whisper. The sound baffles built into the booth reduced all background noise to a seamless murmur and Lex's voice, soft as it was seemed to be the loudest thing around. "Confirm for me if the patent is legitimate, one way or another, and you will not only have my undying gratitude, but I might even be interested in bringing TylerCo in on this whole venture as a partner." Lex smiled winningly, "I can't give you very solid numbers at the moment, but take my word for it as a self-made millionaire, that this looks to be a good earner."

She smiled weakly at him, "That offer does sound tempting, Lex. You've blindsided me and I'm going to need a little time to have my own people look into all of this."

"That's fine," Luthor replied, waving negligently. "I'm in no rush, I have a few other projects that I need to work on. Keep in mind, though-- Crane was expecting to hear back from my lawyers this week. Obviously, we're reluctant now about making him any sort of offer and he might get curious as to what's causing the delay."

She stared at him, appalled. "I'll try to have an answer for you by tomorrow. The day after at the latest."

She stood and he rose as well. They exchanged handshakes and last minute pleasantries, but she was shaken and pale. Well, paler than she'd been when the meal had started, but she managed to make her way past the well-heeled, the rich and the extravagant with no incidents. A smirk playing on his lips, Lex negligently placed a few large, very large, bills on the table and took hold of the remnants of the Javitz bottle. It would be a shame to waste it considering the costs involved. He made his own way out of the Metro Room, only stopping at coat check to pick up the well tailored overcoat that he'd left there. He stepped out of the restaurant, lavishly overtipping the doorman who held the door for his sedan open.

Lex slipped into the back seat, leaning back as Mercy merged seamlessly into Metropolis' early evening traffic.

"How was dinner, sir?" She asked, meeting his gaze in the rear view.

"Exquisite," he said with a broad grin. "Things have gone well."

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir... this was a bit dangerous."

"You didn't mind when I was walking into a den of lunatics and murderers, but you think it's dangerous that I'd go out for some dinner?"

"You were in disguise then. This just seems reckless. This is your home town. If anyone's keeping surveilance on you, they'll have a clear shot. It's not like before when I had a LexCorp security team or the secret service to keep an eye on you. It's just me now." Her hands on the wheel gripped harder, the knuckles turning white.

"And don't think I don't appreciate your service, good Mercy." He replied extravagantly, raising the still open bottle of Javitz in salute. He'd managed to undo his tie and open a few buttons at his shirt collar.

"I'll admit that you do seem to be in a better mood, sir. Did she buy it?"

"She'll call me tomorrow." He said, looking out at the city. "That really wasn't the point of dinner, though." He took a slug from the bottle, savoring the sweet fruitness with just a touch of bitter tang at the tail end. A Javitz, he laughed to himself. They were absolute crap, but no one was really willing to point that out because of how expensive a bottle was. He felt a touch magnanimous. Poor Mercy did worry so about him, and he rarely had much of an opportunity to actually talk to anyone. At least no one whom he considered really worthwhile. Mercy was the help, but she was a great help and perhaps... she deserved to be let in on his thought process. She'd been with him long enough to read his moods. She knew he was up to something, but was too polite to bring it up.

"There's four different goals I had in setting up this dinner, Mercy. I do believe I've acomplished three and am halfway through with the last."

"Really, sir?" She asked politely. She hid a smile to herself. He was in a talkative and cheerful mood. Which was a change, but a good one. He'd been brooding too much since he got over his detox.

"The first is the most obvious. The surface one, inform the CEO of TylerCo about the phobaline tetrahydrochorate patent. Whatever happens, it gives us a little bit of leverage when trying to dig into their records for who the blend was commissioned for."

"But you faked those patent documents. TylerCo doesn't really own those patents since they weren't real in the first place"

"Yes, but she doesn't know that. The bogus patent number on those documents really is a classified one, so she won't be getting access to it anytime soon, so she'll be tearing through her own records in a hurry to try and find anything at all on the subject. It saves me the trouble of doing that sort of digging. The second is the one you've been concerning yourself over. I've put myself back in the public eye and made it abundantly clear that I know about the fear toxin."

Her brow furrowed slightly, "I'm sure you can understand why I'd be concerned."

"Yes, but so far, our only lead has been a sixty year old chemical formula. These people dosed me while I was serving in the White House. Someone got past or suborned my secret service detail, including stealthed Checkmate agents and you... and they exposed me to something that changed me from a man who had an 89% approval rating, bi-partisan congressional support and the admiration of most of the world. They turned that man into a delusional, paranoid psychotic who thought selling his only daughter to an alien robot and shooting himself up with radioactive steroids were good ideas." His voice had turned harsh and bitter. "They left me vulnerable and crippled and they tried to destroy me. They've been trying to destroy me since I was a child." His grip on the bottle had tightened ominously. "I want them to know I'm on to them. I want them to know that I'm after them. They made a mistake taking away so much from me. This wasn't an isolated incident, Mercy. It's been a conspiracy from my childhood to shape me into... something. They are a going concern, they're still out there and I think I worry them. I don't know what they're trying to do, but I'm going to find them and rip some answers loose." His voice was a snarl.

Mercy glanced up at the rear view, faintly worried about that mad gleam in her boss's eyes. He was never quite fully rational when he did that. Since his epiphany, strung out and delusional during his detox, he'd been worried constantly about his sanity, but she'd seen him the same way more than once over the years. Pure venomous hate and unbridled fury bursting to escape an expensive suit. This was a fury that would tear down heaven and rip open the gates of hell. Times like this he almost didn't seem to be just a man, but a force of nature wearing Armani, just begging to be unleashed. Usually it was the blue boyscout that triggered these rages, but his focus had shifted almost completely to these unknown assailants. She knew no fear, but when he was like this he... worried her. Just a little bit. She picked her words carefully, seeking to defuse her boss. "So you want them to know that you know."

He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to lose it. This was what they wanted. He would not give in. Lately, almost by reflex he'd found himself examining his every thought and movement wondering if it had been something they... the annonymous and terrifying they... had put in his head. Every fret, every hope, every dream. Someone had wanted him broken, humbled and under someone's thumb. He was Lex Luthor. They were deluded if they thought they'd broken him. He took another deep, cleansing breath, then a deep, long swig from the bottle. A drop escaped and marred his starched and pristinely white collar with a spot of red. "Yes, yes... that was goal two."

"Goal three, then?"

"Oh, that. That's the half-finished one. I wanted to see if I could bypass TylerCo's security without anyone noticing." He said letting his features relax back into calm repose.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, "From the Metro Room?"

"No, from my lab. I'll show you when we get there. I won't know for sure if I'm through until Miss Tyler gets back to TylerCo."

"And the fourth?"

"I wanted to have a really nice dinner. There's only so much pizza and tv dinners a man should have to take." He flashed her a naughty grin, savoring the annoyed and shocked surprise in his bodyguard's reflected eyes. "Never underestimate the power of the phrase, 'What's for dinner?' as motivation."

"As you say, sir." She murmurred back shaking her head slightly.

"I would've gotten you a doggie bag, but it was just so good, I couldn't help but finish everything." He added with a smirk and a chuckle.

"I'm sure I'll find a way to live with the disappointment, Mr. Luthor."