Chapter Thirty-One - The Acolyte

Chloe looked around at the glazed expressions, reminding her of the glazed expression she'd had when Lionel had told her the story originally, and then she continued that story, determined to make things as brief as possible.

She told them how, throughout the week, Lionel and the others had schemed all forms of nefarious schemes while Ra's passed his solemn judgments and dispatched the lesser schemers in a variety of evil ways, and how, by the end of the week, only three remained.

Ra's Al Ghul walked into the vast room and gazed deeply at the three survivors, who were sat there exuding either extreme confidence or, in the case of the child, total apathy. After five minutes of silence and then some introductory quotations, Ra's got down to business.

"Now you all know," he said, "that, in order to remain immortal, I'll soon be re-immersing myself in the Lazarus Pits, and that while I'm in there I'll be needing somebody to help rule my empire. That somebody will be one of you three."

"Now, the good news - which Mordred, being a veteran of these things, will already know and have concealed from you - is that on these final days I tend to be benevolent - the sharks are satisfied, the piranhas are bloated, the death ray needs recharging and my sword's at the cleaners - so today everybody gets to live." He looked around at the uninterested faces - they weren't here to survive, they were here to win.

"The bad news, for two of you at least, is that I've made my decision." Suddenly the tension in the room began to rise, as Ra's walked around the room. Finally he stopped behind the young boy. "You, Mordred Pendragon. You've been coming here for centuries even though I keep telling you that your persistence is futile. Today is no exception."

The boy turned to Ra's. "That's so not fair. What did I do wrong this time?"

"So many things, Mordred," replied Ra's. "If not for my fear of your mother I would have killed you many times this week."

"It's because I've not got a beard, and because I'm young and you're so old and …"

"Act your age, Mordred," reprimanded Ra's. "It's not because of those things, even though I find them intensely annoying . It's because you never produce results."

"But it's not time yet," protested Mordred, "just as it's not time for me to grow up yet - I'll grow up really quickly one day, believe you me, but it's just not time."

"When will it be time?" asked Ra's impatiently.

"The portents indicate that there are only a couple of decades to go and there's so much planning to do. I've already predicted Bartholomew Allen's birth date, and, when he reaches sufficient years, I'll use my magic lightning on him - make him the fastest man alive."

Lionel burst out laughing. "How can you believe this drivel?"

Mordred Pendragon stamped his feet. "It's all true I tell you. The age of heroes is coming, and I'll be behind it. I'm already setting up forces to destroy a planet, kill a young child's parents, drag a spaceship to the ground, open a portal to Mars. There'll be Atlanteans, Amazons …"

"Enough," said Ra's. "Leave now, Mordred, and don't darken my doorstep again until the next time."

"Grown ups," moaned Mordred, shrugging his shoulders, and then he got up from his seat and left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

"That Mo P," said Lionel. "Can't believe a word he tells you."

"A bit like Miles here," said Ra's, looking at the bearded figure sat next to Lionel. "Mister Drentell, did you really believe that that advertisement you came up with was a good idea?"

"You need to advertise," explained Miles. "That was such a great idea of mine - THE AD THAT MADE A MANIAC OUT OF MAC. Face it, Ra's - there's no such thing as bad publicity. You need to join the twentieth century. Just think of all those poor people with sad lives who are looking for just what you can provide - immortality and a cause to follow. You could take over the world by just making yourself public - introducing the billions to your secret of Demonic Tension, giving them some of that old Ra's Al Dazzle."

Ra's shook his head despairingly. "You've learnt nothing from this past week, have you, Miles? I don't want to take over the world by gentle persuasion. I want to take it over by force. Now please leave before I decide that it might be best to kill you after all."

Miles Drentell made a quick exit, while Lionel sat back and smiled.

"So, Lionel, it looks like it's just you and me. I have to say that I'm impressed - I haven't seen schemes so Machiavellian since, well, Machiavelli."

"Well actually I wasn't planning on sticking around," said Lionel, getting up. "To tell the truth I just came here for the challenge."

Ra's looked stunned. "But I've got all the resources you need to put your plans into action …"

"And where's the fun in that," said Lionel, walking over to the door. "Actually I never wanted to work for you. Originally I was planning on killing you and taking over this place … but that's too easy as well and, besides, I don't like the location."

"Very well, Lionel, if that's want you really want, I'll bid you farewell. You do realize that there's only one world for the two of us to fight over?"

Lionel Luthor smiled. "Bye, old man. It's been an education. Now you better get back to your pit."

Ra's smiled as Lionel closed the door behind him. At last, an acolyte who hadn't disappointed him.


Lana Lang stood in the shower, looking down at Zod's blood flowing away. Finally, still shell-shocked from the events of the day, she staggered out and dried her hair before firmly reattaching her Louise wig. Wrapping a towel around herself, she made her way to the nearest bedroom and lay on the bed, her thoughts cascading through her mind.

Suddenly she heard the downstairs door opening and a voice shouting "Hi, honey, I'm home."

Lana just lay silently on the bed, not wanting to say or do anything. She ignored the footsteps coming up the stairs, but then she saw her great-uncle Dexter, looking younger than she'd ever seen him looking before, standing in front of her. She had to say something.

"Hello, Dexter," she said. It wasn't the best opening line in the world, but it was a lot better than telling him that his beloved Louise was dead.

"Are you okay, honey?" Dexter asked, concern on his face. "You left the shower running, and I can't remember the last time you didn't call me just Dex."

Lana looked at her poor great-uncle, who'd lost Louise and would soon be losing her, and burst into tears.

Dex grabbed Lana to his chest and held her tight. "What's the matter? You can tell me. You know you can."

"It's nothing, Dex," said Lana, through her tears. "It's just … I guess I'm not myself today."

"Hey, that's okay. I know what the matter is - you don't have to say it … Hey, maybe we'll pop round to your sister's tonight. That should cheer you up."

Lana, her head buried in Dexter's now tear-stained shirt, suddenly stopped thinking about Louise, and started thinking about Louise's sister … her grandmother. And then she started thinking about her mother who would have been just two in 1961. Maybe, before Lana died Louise's death, she'd get a chance to see her mother.

"We could see my niece," said Lana, lifting her head to look at Dexter.

"Yeah, that's right. Your ... niece," replied Dexter, as he looked at his wife's smiling tear-stained face.

Lana drew back from Dexter. "I must look awful."

"No, Louise," replied Dexter. "You look more beautiful than ever."