Lex Luthor's private car—a 1937 Rolls Royce Phantom III—rolled to a stop in the middle of the graveled front parking lot of the Roxbury Hills Country Club. Inside, Luthor scrawled way hastily at paper after paper. The job was never done, he thought to himself. He gave his signature to a final one, set them on the empty seat next to him, and called his driver—Mercy Graves III.
"Update, Mercy."
"It's coming up, Lex," she responded. A small panel in front of Luthor slid out and up, and a small television screen emerged from the cabinet, running on pneumatic pistons. The screen flickered intermittently, and then brought up an image of Luthor's own office. Luthor leaned forward, bringing his arms to rest on his knees, and steepling his fingers; he watched the screen intently, scrutinizing every movement of the figures displayed.
Allen, Luthor thought. And…Superman. In my chair.
"Can we get audio on this?" Luthor asked.
"Remotes are hazy. You sure you could get something from it?"
"Go ahead," Luthor said. A second later, the tenebrous voice of Superman cut in.
"—it's who I am. I believe that there is a good man inside Luthor. Somewhere."
He really thinks so, doesn't he?
O'Neill spoke, after a silence which Luthor chalked up to audio interference: "Have you ever had something you've ever felt you had to conceal from the world?"
"Yes," Superman said. "Many things."
O'Neill, in contrast to the cosmic Big Brother, looked so small. Disheveled. Like something was eating him alive, quite literally from the inside out. "Then you know how difficult it can be to keep secrets. Things that could destroy a man. Hold them in long enough and they start to destroy you…"
He knows, Luthor thought hatefully. He's figured it out, and he's going to—
The audio cut out. Luthor's eyes narrowed as he analyzed the small viewscreen. "Mercy," he said darkly. "What happened?"
"If I were a betting man—"
"Shut it, Mercy. See if you can get only audio from there. I've got work to do."
"Yes sir," Mercy replied halfheartedly.
Luthor slid the TV back into the casing, lowered the cover, and pushed the back door of the Rolls Royce open. Outside stood a strong, tall man. Short cut brown hair rounded his head almost perfectly, and barely noticeable dark bags drooped under his deep eyes. A corner of his mouth was drawn upward as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest and smiled at Luthor, who stared up at him disdainfully.
"Welcome to Roxbury country club, Lex," Maxwell Lord said congenially.
"Max," Luthor said, stepping out of the car and meeting Lord's handshake. "How are things? I trust the old business is as profitable as ever?"
"Well, we're making headway, Lex. Walk with me."
A Kryptonite Ring, I thought.
Superman had long since left my company; he had fires to put out, kittens to save, and soup cans to open for hapless old ladies. I was alone in Lex's darkened office. And…I was kind of scared.
Why didn't he tell me? Was I somehow undeserving? There were two real questions at hand. One, why did Lex give me this Kryptonite ring. Second, given his—as Superman put it—past run-ins with kryptonite, why would he still carry it around?
Third question: why didn't he tell me about the…cancer? Radiation. Whatever. I mean, I wasn't exactly Lex's golfing buddy, but I knew my fair share of his life. He sort of made it a point for me to.
To establish familiarity? I don't know. Maybe. A stupid High School kid and a powerful billionaire aren't exactly made for each other. But what was the motive? Why hide this kind of thing from me? Why not tell me about a life-changing event?
He didn't car about you.
He didn't love you.
Bullshit.
That was my problem. Always looking for some lovin' and it always works against me. Always. DammitAlways looking for acceptance, always looking for…friends.
He couldn't take the risk you knowing too much about him, in the unlikely yet possible event that you went snooping on your own.
Possibly.
And you couldn't run the risk of knowing too much, for whatever reason you want to shill out.
"You have the power to end this, Allen." Superman's words still echoed in my head. Did I really have the power to end this? So what—I go to Luthor, go all noble and say 'I know, Lex.' And then he says something imposing like 'of course you knew. I wanted you to know. It's all part of my plan.'
That's Tim Drake talking.
Was it?
Luthor sat lazily in the backseat of the Rolls Royce. He stared intently out the side window, watching the thoroughly un-scenic scenery of New Jersey pass him by.
"Location," he asked heavily.
"20 miles," Mercy responded. "We'll be in Metropolis inside 10 minutes."
"Speed. I intend to catch Allen before things go south."
Silence. Mercy looked in the rearview mirror, at Luthor's reflection. He was staring pensively out the window, one arm rested on the door armrest, supporting his head.
"How did Lord take it?"
"Oh he's in. With Wayne and Thornton, we're up to 10 million. Start-up operations alone."
"That sounds…good."
"It's not enough," Luthor said distantly. HeturnedtoMercy, seated in the driver's seat ahead of him. "Where is Allen?"
"After Luthor lost his hand, he grew paranoid, unpredictable. Medical records showed serious chemical imbalances in the man's brain."
Superman. I guessed I should have thanked the Man of Steel for confirming what, until then, had only been conjecture tossed on me by Tim Drake. Tim was…overzealous. Superman, though. He told the truth. Or seemed to, anyway.
"I'm gonna have to talk to Luthor about this," I said aloud. I stood from the lounge chair in front of Lex's desk, and reached in my pocket. Fumbling around for a moment, I finally found it, and removed it. The little black box, lined with lead—according to Superman—that contained Lex's old failsafe, the Kryptonite ring.
I held the box in my hand for a moment, before lowering my arms slowly, and placing it on Lex's desk. He'll find it when he gets back. Whenever the hell that'll be.
Chemical imbalance. Made him sound insane, for the love of God. Aren't we all a little imbalanced here and there?
You're missing the point, Allen.
Maybe so. Lex might have a screw or two loose, but he's not insane. Not in that Freud way, anyway.
My thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ringing of Lex's desk phone. I stared at it for a long while before grasping the receiver and lifting. I held it in limbo for a moment, considering my options.
Lex'll never know you answered his phone.
So noted.
"Hello?" I said unsteadily.
Silence.
"Hello?" I repeated. A small murmur creeped through the receiver, from the other end of the line.
"allllennn…."
"What? Who is this?"
"alllleennnnn….help meee….." The voice was frightfully…inexplicably weak. Whoever it was, they sounded like they had just woken up, or were near death.
"Who is this?" I asked pressingly, casting aside my better judgment for the moment.
"jjessseee…."
"Jesse?" I said bluntly, my stomach rising in my chest. In my conversation with Superman, I had forgotten the reason why I was in the LexTower to begin with. Jesse had gone missing, and I wanted to find him. "Jesse where are you?"
"sub….bassssemennnnnt…."
"The sub-basement? Of the LexTower?"
Silence. The line went silent, and a dial tone started soon after. I dropped the phone and ran for the elevators.
"He's leaving the office, Lex."
"He'll be heading for the sub-basement. Can we make it in time?"
"Yes," Mercy saidgrimly, her teeth clenched, a smile creeping across her face in reserved anticipation.
