Lionel Luthor had met Sgt. Megan Willows way back in 1994, the year
of his company's stock was at its highest that decade. Back then, Willows
was just a lowly police officer helping direct traffic in the center of
Metropolis.
One day, Lionel was walking out of a bank when a street thug jumped in his way from out of nowhere to and threatened him with a switchblade. His guards were not in sight and Officers Willows was writing a parking ticket over a block away.
"Not so high and might now, eh, Luthor?" mocked the thug.
Except for the switchblade, the thug didn't really frighten Lionel. He was a thin, short, African-American possibly in his late twenties.
"This is so clichéd," mumbled Lionel.
"Shut up!" barked the thug, angrily. "I took care of your guards; I can take care of you!"
"You killed them?"
"No – those fools were just poor saps taking orders from the wrong guy."
"But you will kill me?"
The thug hesitated, "I – yeah, I'll kill you!"
Lionel inspected his scenario. In front of him was his limo, and he could see just enough through the glass to find the limo driver unconscious. The bank was relatively empty; no one else was coming outside and no one inside could see them, since they were at the bottom of the stairs. The streets were empty and across the street people were going out of their way to pretend they didn't see what was going on. The man had attacked him at his weakest.
Then, Lionel peered to his left. Willows was trying to silently approach them, but she was still half a block away. He'd have to keep talking.
"When were you fired?" asked Lionel.
"What?"
"This is all too well orchestrated. No mere street hoodlum could have possibly have come up with this. You know too much about the way I work – how I hate waiting in lines and prefer the streets when there are less people. In short, I hate crowds. You even managed to knock out every single one of my guards. You clearly must have worked for me at one point or another," explained Lionel calmly.
"Heh, why don't you just believe I got lucky?"
"Evidence points to the fact that... you're about to get your ass kicked."
"I wouldn't bet on –"
Officer Willows attacked the thug with a sleep hold and knocked him out. His unconscious body slipped to the ground.
"Thank you," thanked Lionel.
"Just doing my job, sir," replied Officer Willows.
He chuckled. "Most people wouldn't have, at least not in this city."
"Well... I try to set an example. I'll just arrest this man and you can be on your way. I mean, after you give me a statement, of course."
Lionel smiled. "Of course."
Willows had denied a reward, but soon she found herself rising rapidly among police force ranks. Not long after that, mid-1996, she was convinced by a close friend to resume her army training that she'd began a while ago. She didn't rise very far before she got transferred into the National Guard and ascended to her current rank. Lionel's work was fast, and she was now catching on as to why.
He wanted influence in the National Guard. And in less than a decade, he got it.
One day, Lionel was walking out of a bank when a street thug jumped in his way from out of nowhere to and threatened him with a switchblade. His guards were not in sight and Officers Willows was writing a parking ticket over a block away.
"Not so high and might now, eh, Luthor?" mocked the thug.
Except for the switchblade, the thug didn't really frighten Lionel. He was a thin, short, African-American possibly in his late twenties.
"This is so clichéd," mumbled Lionel.
"Shut up!" barked the thug, angrily. "I took care of your guards; I can take care of you!"
"You killed them?"
"No – those fools were just poor saps taking orders from the wrong guy."
"But you will kill me?"
The thug hesitated, "I – yeah, I'll kill you!"
Lionel inspected his scenario. In front of him was his limo, and he could see just enough through the glass to find the limo driver unconscious. The bank was relatively empty; no one else was coming outside and no one inside could see them, since they were at the bottom of the stairs. The streets were empty and across the street people were going out of their way to pretend they didn't see what was going on. The man had attacked him at his weakest.
Then, Lionel peered to his left. Willows was trying to silently approach them, but she was still half a block away. He'd have to keep talking.
"When were you fired?" asked Lionel.
"What?"
"This is all too well orchestrated. No mere street hoodlum could have possibly have come up with this. You know too much about the way I work – how I hate waiting in lines and prefer the streets when there are less people. In short, I hate crowds. You even managed to knock out every single one of my guards. You clearly must have worked for me at one point or another," explained Lionel calmly.
"Heh, why don't you just believe I got lucky?"
"Evidence points to the fact that... you're about to get your ass kicked."
"I wouldn't bet on –"
Officer Willows attacked the thug with a sleep hold and knocked him out. His unconscious body slipped to the ground.
"Thank you," thanked Lionel.
"Just doing my job, sir," replied Officer Willows.
He chuckled. "Most people wouldn't have, at least not in this city."
"Well... I try to set an example. I'll just arrest this man and you can be on your way. I mean, after you give me a statement, of course."
Lionel smiled. "Of course."
Willows had denied a reward, but soon she found herself rising rapidly among police force ranks. Not long after that, mid-1996, she was convinced by a close friend to resume her army training that she'd began a while ago. She didn't rise very far before she got transferred into the National Guard and ascended to her current rank. Lionel's work was fast, and she was now catching on as to why.
He wanted influence in the National Guard. And in less than a decade, he got it.