"There are plenty of reasons why people disappear." Mercy thought as Lex turned over and wrapped an arm around her in his sleep. Small reasons, like moving away, losing contact with old friends, or maybe bigger reasons like going bankrupt or having your life threatened. Maybe, for some people, it was just the thrill of escape. To Mercy, it seemed like it always came down to loss. A loss of freedom, a loss of money, a loss of love... you vanish because there simply isn't enough of you left to continue existing. Thousands of people, maybe millions, hide directly under the radar. People you see walking by on the street, nameless and faceless and absolutely ordinary. Until they're gone. Yes, disappearing is a very easy task. A basic art of sacrifice.
Mercy vaguely wanted to disappear right then, the stifling pressure of Lex's body holding her down too tight. She knew why she had purposefully run into him that night on the street, and despite her capture and consequent unveiling in that alley, she had successfully accomplished her goal, in her opinion. But she was absolutely puzzled as to why she found herself all packed and ready to play house at the Luthor luxury penthouse apartment. She couldn't help the annoying feeling that they were bonded together in some morbid, extraordinary way. Forced by circumstances to lie, cheat and kill together for the rest of all eternity. Like they had branded each other with their own failures. "Sentimentality," she thought disgustedly, "is what it is." She never could resist that last touch of irony. Sleeping with Lex Luthor the same night she betrayed him to Superman.
She didn't have any reason to help out Metropolis's favorite superhero. Didn't really care that much about him one way or the other. To her, this was just tying up loose ends, more about karma and balance than any desire to become some spandex-clad, do-gooder's personal assistant. Clark deserved that envelope. Just like Lex deserved to have all of his plans fall through, waiting patiently for Superman to arrive, surrounded by his trap of precious meteor rocks, until he rotted away into nothing.
He kept calling her Chloe. Talk about sentimental. Chloe Sullivan was dead.
He should know, he was right there when she died.
Lying on the floor of her father's empty hospital room, shaking and shuddering in his arms.