Season 5
James waited anxiously as Kara announced him on stage. "Let's welcome my good friend and the next Senator from New York, James Olsen!" Kara said to an enthusiastic crowd. James came out and noticed the crowd.
"Well, hi, there," he said nervously as he came to the podium. "My name is James Olsen and I'd like to be the next senator from the great state of New York."
The crowd cheered like mad. "You guys ready for a montage," James smiled.
After the last several weeks, James greeted MILFs and their babies, went door-to-door in safe suburban neighborhoods, got the firefighters union endorsement, and showed up on The Daily Show.
"Whenever I see you on CSPAN, and you stand, I always think you're about to go, 'Chug, chug, chug'," Trevor Noah remarked.
"You're not wrong," James smiled.
"You certainly started your career off, five years ago, with a bang, or should I say bust," Trevor pointed out referring to a bar brawl James was in.
"Well, it led me to Catco where I quickly became editor in chief and a close associate with Pulitzer-Prize winning, Kara Danvers, so I think it was worth it," James said confidently.
In Metropolis Bay, James toured with the Coast Guard. He got himself on the cover of Catco magazine and toured around with farmers outside the city. He even received the endorsement of former NYC mayor Bloomberg. "For the last several years, James Olsen has taken some great pictures of New York City and America making us look good to the world."
James turned back to the crowd in front of him after the montage was over. "It's going to be super-easy, barely an inconvenience to get there. But that hasn't stopped my opposition from talking shit about me. They say I'm too young to run for this office but that's okay because those are the same people that say young people don't vote, young people don't care about politics, but I'm here to tell you your future is about your choices, not theirs. So, today, I'm putting all those assholes on notice because come November, I want them to know that it was young people like you, who kicked their asses."
"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy," the crowd chanted.
"Thank you," James cringed, hating his nickname.
Season 5x20
On election day, James was in his hotel room and switched to CNN. "James Olsen, until recently was ahead in the polls, what the fuck happened?" the CNN host asked his guests.
"This is a surprise. Such political promise. This compelling story. He grew up in a rough neighborhood in Calvintown. He overcame the loss of his entire family, his father died in the Iraq War. He had such promise. But then this photo coming out of the New York Post of a college reunion prank gone wrong reeks of immaturity, of impulsiveness, people want maturity in Congress," one gust said.
Kara then entered his room as James was drinking a beer and still watching CNN. "Why are you watching this crap? Put on your tie and let's go," she ordered.
Kara dragged a less than sober James to the campaign HQ. "Damn," James said upon seeing that he was losing on the map screen.
"We'll fix this," Kara assured him.
James walked out of the office and went to the restroom to think. He practiced his concession speech alone but then heard a noise in one of the stalls. "Hello?"
A man then exited the stalls with a bottle of champagne in his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he said sheepishly. He was relatively short and effeminate-looking. "I probably should have said something but then you started talking to yourself and I didn't want to interrupt and it was obviously very personal, so I was in no man's land," Elliot admitted. "But then it all became too much so I came out."
"What are you doing in here?" James asked skeptically.
"Why? Who made this your restroom?" Elliot asked incredulously.
"What's with the champagne?" James asked.
"I crashed a wedding upstairs. Now, I'm hiding from security," he admitted.
"I've crashed weddings. When I was in high school, in college, a few years back, last week," James recalled.
"You're that guy running for Senate, right?" Elliot identified.
"Yeah, I am that guy," James confirmed.
"And judging from your speech, you're not winning," Elliot assumed.
"No," James nodded.
"That's too bad. The other one got us into unnecessary wars and wants to raise our taxes to pay for it," he sighed.
"I wish I had made that clearer in the campaign ads," James said bitterly.
"Personally, I don't find mooning your friends at a college reunion party is that big a deal," Elliot said sympathetically.
"That's only the part reported on," James smirked.
"It was my favorite moment of your whole campaign," Elliot complimented.
"Same," James agreed. "So, you like politicians?"
"Only when they do things I can relate to," Elliot clarified.
"Like pull their pants down and make people kiss their black ass?" James asked.
"I love that," he said smiling.
"I couldn't even get elected to the student council. I don't even know how to tie my own tie," James admitted.
"Let me help you then," he said and then got close to James. He expertly retied James' tie. "Is it over?" he asked after he had finished.
"She crushed me," James said referring to his opponent.
"Sorry," Elliot said sympathetically.
"Well, losing had its advantages. Politics gets old and boring. I could get a job at the Smithsonian or sack my hometown newspaper," James figured.
"Really?" Elliot asked skeptically.
"I guess I'm just looking forward to having some time by myself, getting drunk as fuck," James said filled with self-pity.
"I don't buy it. You love this," Elliot sensed.
"I guess I have to be more convincing," James sighed.
James and Elliot looked into each other's eyes totally alone in silence. "James, the fuck?" Kara asked as she entered the men's restroom.
"Okay, I got to go," Elliot said awkwardly.
"You done practicing your speech?" Kara asked impatiently.
James followed Elliot out of the restroom and into the hall. "I got to go," he told James and then got chased down by security.
"What the hell was that?" Kara demanded.
"I don't know," James smirked.
"Are you ready?" Kara asked annoyed.
"Yeah, yeah," James nodded.
James went out to the stage of the auditorium to greet his cheering fans. "The next senator from the great state of New York, James Olsen," the announcer boomed.
"Wait...what the fuck?" James wondered but quickly recovered. "Yeah, so I grew up in Calvintown...a place everyone knows is a shithole," he began.
"I love you, Jimmy!" one woman cried out.
"And I love you, random citizen," James called out.
"But we had a rule in my neighborhood that when you got into a fight, it wasn't how hard you could punch, it was how hard you can get hit and keep going. During this campaign, I took a lot of shit from people I looked up to, people I believed in, people who I thought were my friends...all because I had an R by my name. It's bullshit," James said bitterly.
The crowd was hushed by this. "In this campaign, I wanted to be as authentic as possible. You see this piece of shit tie? I picked this tie. This yellow tie I'm wearing indicates how little I gave a shit whether I, personally, won this campaign. I neither shined nor scuffed up my shoes because...I didn't give a shit. It was never about creating the perfect image of myself. As a photographer, I spent my entire career spotting the fakers. For the next two years, until the next election, I'm going to give New York state honest, authentic, down-to-Earth representation. I will expose all that is fucked-up in Washington whether my party is in the minority or in the majority. I will burn bridges, insult people to their faces, trash-talk shitty bills on the floor of the Senate, and refuse to play along. I will be that asshole...for you," James promised.
The crowd cheered wildly for him totally inspired. "Now, go home and get drunk as fuck. You've earned it. I know I have," James said and then left the stage.
Adventures of Supergirl 7x07
James awoke from a bad hangover and reached for his phone. "Sup?"
"Cat Grant from Catco magazine wants to interview you. I gave her your number," Lena said from her Lex Corp. office.
"Damn...it," James muttered. "Have her call my personal cell."
"No can do. All government-related calls have to be done through your issued phone," Lena reminded him.
"Really?" James wondered.
"You voted for it. Said it would be better for transparency," Lena reminded him.
"Hey, I just saw you on Fox Business. They said you looked beautiful and sexy," James said.
"That's weird. That's supposed to be a financial show," Lena said confused.
"But they were really captivated by your hairstyle," James continued.
"I have to go. Don't be a jackass...for once," Lena told him and then hung up.
On the street, James got himself a cup of coffee and was greeted by a constituent. "I really appreciate what you've been doing, Senator. I wish there were more like you," an elderly man said to him.
"Thanks, man. That means a lot," James said sincerely.
"You'll do well," the old man assured him.
"Thank you," James said and then took off to catch the bus. Upon entering, James noticed a man running towards the bus. "Hey, you got someone running to get on the bus," James pointed out.
"Fuck'em," the bus driver replied.
"Well, okay then," James said and then found Elliot on the bus. "No way."
James sat down next to him. "Sup?" he asked.
"Oh my God, it's you," he said amazed.
"Remember that awkward moment we had in the restroom and you fixed my tie?" James asked.
"I do," Elliot nodded. "Were you just staring at my legs while I was dozing off?"
"Have you been working out? They look great," James complimented.
"You look great in that blue suit," Elliot complimented. "Did you pick that out?"
"I always picked out my clothes," James assured him.
"I saw your speech," Elliot remarked.
"Yeah, the speech. Something must have gotten into me deep inside," James nodded reflectively. James was then interrupted by his cell phone. He promptly ignored it and put it on silent. "Sorry, new phone."
"Are you going to run again?" Elliot asked curiously.
"Don't know. This year is looking to be a red wave but it's New York so...," James said uncertainly.
"You have to run again. If you don't, the Senate will be run by tools like McConnell," Elliot said concernedly.
"The Turtle Sage is formidable," James frowned. Suddenly, James' coffee exploded for no reason. "I'm sorry. I don't know what just happened. I'll pay for the dry cleaning."
"It's fine," Elliot allowed.
James looked at his wallet and realized he was out of cash. "Hey, just write down your number here and I'll have your pants taken care of," James offered.
"Oh my goodness, that's very smooth," Elliot said impressed. "Why don't I spill something on you and we'll call it even?"
"Fair enough," James said handing his coffee over to Elliot.
"I was just joking. I'm Elliot, by the way," he said.
"I'll try to remember that," James promised.
"Here's my number," he said handing it over.
"I'll call you," James said as he got off the bus.
Amused, James called up Lena. "You won't believe who I ran into. The guy I ran into on election night."
"Okay," Lena said unconcernedly.
"What are the odds? It's amazing," James said.
"Are you high...again?" Lena asked.
"You're just jealous that I can get high and you can't," James said knowingly.
"You need to vote down the solar panel bill. The research isn't there, the price is too high, and it causes birds to explode in fire midair," Lena said.
"If we don't do solar energy, some other country will," James insisted.
"Convince me in the meeting," Lena ordered.
"I will," James said confidently.
James entered Lex Corp and found virtually everyone frozen in place. Not paying attention, James entered a conference room and found several men in suits using scanning equipment on Lena and the other occupants in the room. "Hey, what the fuck?" James demanded.
"Grab his ass," Agent Richardson ordered his men.
James ran off down the hall and up the stairs as several men in law enforcement gear went after him. Upon reaching the top floor, Agent Richardson was already there waiting for him. "Oh, shit," James said as he continued to evade them.
"You can't get away, James," Agent Richardson said calmly.
James ran down the halls only to be cornered by agents on all sides. "Just listen to me," Agent Richardson said to him. James went past him, entered an office, and locked the door. James raced towards the phone and found it disconnected. James then turned on his watch to alert Supergirl.
"James, you're making this harder than it has to be," Agent Richardson said behind the door.
The agents unlocked one of the doors to the office and quickly apprehended James. After a brief fight, Agent Harry knocked James out with chloroform.
James awoke groggily in an abandoned warehouse. He was handcuffed to a chair with agents surrounding him. "We have reset him. Get me the briefcase," Agent Richardson ordered.
"You must be joking. It will take a signed order from the Architect," Agent McCrady objected.
"Get legal on it," Agent Richardson said irritably.
"Legal just arrived," Agent Burdensky informed him.
"There's no fucking way the Architect approves a reset," Legal doubted. "This is your fault. There's no way you get a briefcase."
"Hey," James called out as he struggled against his restraints.
"What are my options?" Agent Richardson asked ignoring James.
"Just bullshit him," Legal suggested.
"Bullshit this guy?" Agent Richardson doubted.
"Hey, what's going on here?" James demanded.
"Look at this shit," Agent Richardson said showing James' future in a notebook. "Questions will burn in him until he dies. He won't stop searching for answers. He won't quit. We have to watch him forever and make sure he doesn't talk creating endless ripple effects."
"Just level with him," Legal shrugged.
"Completely?" Agent Richardson asked incredulously.
"I don't see you having a choice," Legal said flatly.
"Who the hell are you guys? Where the fuck am I?" James demanded.
Agent Richardson gave James a condescending look. "We're angels. We make sure things happen according to plan. My name is Richardson," he said to him. James immediately bolted from his chair having freed himself. Agent Richardson pointed at the floor causing James to trip. Two agents dragged James back to his chair. "You really think I didn't see that coming?" he mocked.
"For a moment there, yeah, I kind of did," James said dryly.
"I can read your mind," Richardson informed him.
"Oh, really?" James doubted.
"Pick a color. Black. Pick a number. Sixty-nine. Now, why are you still thinking about running?" Richardson asked.
James tried to clear his head. "What's going on here?" he demanded.
"You've peeked behind the curtain, a world you weren't supposed to see that you weren't supposed to know existed. Must be jarring," Agent Richardson said sympathetically.
"Actually, it makes perfect sense," James said super-chill.
"Your path this morning was supposed to be adjusted. You were supposed to spill your coffee as you entered the parking lot this morning. You would have gone upstairs to change and then missed the bus but one of us fucked it up," Richardson said eying Agent Harry. "Then, you would have arrived at work ten minutes late."
"I was supposed to spill my coffee. That's expensive shit," James complained.
"It's called an adjustment. Everything revolving around coffee is carefully controlled by us. Some people spill their coffee and their Internet goes out or they misplace their keys. People think it's chance but it's actually us fucking with them. It's all part of the plan," Agent Richardson explained.
"Sometimes we nudge people back onto the plan. When that doesn't work, we erase your memories like what we did to Lena. She's fine, by the way," Agent Richardson said nonchalantly. "Now, there's something I need to tell you before I let you go. Very few humans have seen what you have seen today and we're determined to keep it that way. It's important that people believe in us, not know we exist. You see, when you know something is true scientifically and irrefutably, you no longer have faith. So, if you ever reveal our existence, we'll kick your ass, erase your mind, and then kick your ass again for good measure."
"You understand?" Agent Richardson asked him.
"Got it," James nodded.
"Not one word about us," Agent Richardson said super-seriously. "Oh, one more thing. You bumped into a man on the bus this morning. Elliot?"
"What does this have to do with anything?" James wondered.
"You were never supposed to see him again," Agent Richardson explained.
"What does it matter?" James shook his head.
"It matters. Strip him," Richardson ordered his men. Immediately, James was stripped of all his clothes.
"Fascist fucks," James shouted at them as several agents took him down. His wallet was then handed over to Agent Richardson. He took out the card with Elliot's phone number.
Agent Richardson then lit the card on fire in front of James. "Really? The fuck is wrong with you people?" James protested.
"Send him back," Agent Richardson ordered his men.
"Fuck you," James spat at Agent Richardson as they threw his black ass back into his building still naked. Lena then walked into the office and stared at James. She looked over his nakedness briefly and then quickly recovered.
"James, what are you doing on my floor...naked?" Lena demanded. "I must have called you ten times. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I have a headache," James excused.
Lena nodded knowingly. "Take some aspirin. We have a meeting with the board. Get dressed."
"I lost my suit," James said sheepishly.
Lena rolled her eyes and then called her assistant. "I need a suit brought to my office: Senator Olsen's dimensions," she ordered her assistant.
"Lena, I was arrested and taken hostage by angels," James blurted out.
"James, I don't have time for your bullshit, right now," Lena sighed.
"Fucking serious. They threatened to lobotomize me," James told her.
"Unless it has something to do with solar panels, it can wait," Lena told him. Lena's assistant then entered the room with a suit. After handing a still naked James the suit, she then exited the room.
"She's very professional," James noted.
"This isn't the first time you've done this, remember?" Lena reminded him.
At the board meeting, James pretended to give a shit about the discussion on solar panels. "I know it's a risk but if our company doesn't take a chance on something like this, then who will? I mean, I'm willing to take fire on something that could change the world. Not to mention, be incredibly lucrative," Lena pitched to Lex.
"Lena, you've stated that we need to be first to the punch while also suggesting that if we won't, no one else will. You can't have it both ways," Lex said obviously.
"James?" Lena requested his input.
"The Senate will pay for it," James relented.
"Let's do it," Lex immediately agreed.
After the meeting, Lena took James aside in her office. "Something wrong? You show up in my office naked, rant and rave about angels, and just endorsed corporate welfare," Lena pointed out.
"I was riding with this guy on the bus and we exchanged numbers because I spilled coffee on his pants. And I lost his number," James admitted.
Lena gave him an odd look. "What was his name?" she asked.
"Elliot," James said.
"That's it?" Lena asked incredulously.
"I'm never going to see him again," James sighed. "I let down a constituent."
"I'm sorry," Lena said giving James a hug.
At a bar, James drank his sorrows away. Agent Harry walked up to him. "Your entire world has been turned upside down and all you're thinking about is that guy?" he asked incredulously. "Even if you could remember his number, you'll never get through. We'll make him lose his cell phone, change his number. My name is Harry, by the way."
"You freeze people, you lobotomize people. That's fucked up," James accused.
"We need special authorization...," Agent Harry said.
"Poking around in people's brains. It's not right," James told him off.
"Shut your fucking mouth," Agent Harry warned.
"I told Kara the same thing. Not cool, bro," James said not backing off.
"Can I get you two something to drink?" the female bartender asked. She gave them a curious look as if knowing what was between them.
"Just water," Agent Harry ordered.
"You said authorization? From whom?" James asked.
"The Architect," Agent Harry replied.
"The Architect? You mean, God?" James assumed.
"We can't talk here," Agent Harry said anxiously. "Meet me at 4 pm on a boat and I'll answer what I can or we'll fuck with your brain."
Once he was gone, James turned to the other bar patrons. "That was an angel! That guy right there!" he pointed out.
James met up with Agent Harry on a boat in Metropolis Bay. "Alright, ask your questions," Agent Harry allowed.
"Can you guys really read minds?" James asked.
"Yes, but we have to fill out a form first. It's a pain in the ass," Agent Harry replied.
"But that guy knew my favorite color and favorite number," James said confused.
"He didn't read your mind. He simply predicted what it would be," Agent Harry clarified.
"What is this so-called plan?" James asked curiously.
"Every living person on the planet has a notebook with their life planned out ahead of time. We just make sure people stay on track," Agent Harry said.
"So, predestination?" James questioned.
"It's not like that. Just because you can predict the weather doesn't mean you can control it. You still have free will and we do allow some deviations from the plan. But when you get too uppity, we fucked with your brain to get you back on track," Agent Harry explained.
"So, children dying in Africa of disease and starvation is according to plan?" James asked.
"Yes," Agent Harry said flatly.
"Fuck me," James said dismayed. "Should you even be telling me this shit?"
"Not really but there's something about water that blinds the other angels from knowing what we're doing here," Agent Harry admitted.
"Why are you helping me?" James asked suspiciously.
"I have my reasons," Agent Harry said coyly.
"And why can't I hang out with Elliot?" James asked.
"All I know is that the amount of resources they've used to keep him from you is pretty damn important," Agent Harry said uncertainly. "You're going to keep looking for him, aren't you?"
"Yeah," James said stubbornly.
"You won't find him. They'll make sure of it," Agent Harry assured him. "Even if they weren't trying to stop you, there are millions in this city. You'll never find him. Forget about him. Move on with your life."
Three days later, James tracked Elliot down with Brainiac 5's assistance. Using facial recognition software based on James' sketch, a memorized phone number, and careful spying of the bus system, he was easily found. James chased after him as he got off the bus. "Hey, Elliot. Wait up."
"Senator Olsen," Elliot said surprised.
"I used a super-computer in the hopes I would bump into you," James admitted. "Hey, Lena, I'm going to skip lunch. I just bumped into Elliot," he said via his cell phone and then hung up.
"Who was that?" Elliot questioned as James hung up.
"That was my wife," James said nonchalantly. "We've known each other for five years now. It's cool. You want to take a walk?"
"No," Elliot shook his head.
"But we have a lot to catch up on," James pointed out.
"What if I don't like the end to our walk?" Elliot asked.
"I'll take my chances," James said unconcernedly.
"My number hasn't changed. Just call me," Elliot suggested.
"I would but angels are dropping all of my calls," James revealed.
"Well...shit," Elliot frowned.
The two walked around Metropolis. "It's been days. How do you know I don't have a lover by now?" Elliot asked.
"Do you have a lover?" James asked curiously.
"Would it matter if I did?" Elliot quizzed.
"No," James shook his head.
"So, you're a man without conviction, a homewrecker," Elliot accused.
"Senator, you're the best!" a random constituent shouted at James.
"Thank you, random citizen," James replied back and then turned back to Elliot. "If you were married, it wouldn't make a difference to me. I'm married, you're married, so what?"
"You're just saying what I want to hear," Elliot sensed. "I'm single," he said finally. "So, what about that bullshit excuse for not calling me?"
"I'm fucking serious. Angels are dropping my calls. I had to find you in person," James said adamantly.
"You sure this isn't your wife's doing?" Elliot asked suspiciously.
"I had my phone checked out by a super-computer," James said referring to Brainiac 5.
"That sounds like bullshit," Elliot doubted.
"On my parents' grave," James said seriously.
"That's heavy," Elliot resisted.
"I know but it's true," James told him.
"Well, okay then," Elliot said accepting his explanation.
"So, what do you do?" James asked curiously.
"I'm a dancer. I'm in a contemporary ballet company," he said.
"Nice," James smiled.
"I think you have the wrong idea about me," Elliot sensed.
"I think you should invite me to one of your performances," James suggested.
"The company is called Cedar Lake and there's actually a show tomorrow night if you're interested," he invited.
"Is that an invitation?" James questioned.
"It's information," Elliot clarified.
The two sat down at a French restaurant. "You okay?" Elliot asked concernedly.
"I'm being stalked by angels," James informed him. "So, what does it take to be a good dancer?"
"You have to be born in the right body for it like very flexible hips and shoulders, long neck," Elliot pointed out.
"How is everything for you two?" a waitress asked them with a knowing smile.
"It's great, thank you," James said looking over his shoulder paranoid as fuck.
"I think that everything comes out when you dance," Elliot said.
"I completely agree," James said impressed with his own moves.
Agent Richardson and Agent McCrady looked over two notebooks. "If they kiss, everything is fucked," Agent McCrady pointed out.
"A kiss? That's all it takes?" Agent Richardson said dumbfounded.
"A real kiss," Agent McCrady clarified."If that happens, no amount of adjustment will be strong enough to break them up."
"It's a shame," Agent Richardson shook his head.
Lena then joined James and Elliot. "Nice to see you, Elliot," Lena said smiling.
"How did you find me?" James asked spooked.
"You have a tracking device on your ass, remember?" Lena reminded him. "So, this is why you skipped lunch with me? We could have had lunch together."
"I figured they would be watching you," James said paranoid.
"You have a speech to make at the Brooklyn Bridge," Lena reminded him.
"Fuck it," James said dismissively.
"No, you can't do that. This is important to you, the country," Elliot protested. "And I have rehearsals to get to."
"Oh, yeah? Where at?" James asked.
"Pier 17," Elliot replied.
"Check," Lena ordered and then handed the waitress a few hundred dollar bills so they could leave.
The three left the restaurant and prepared to go their separate ways. "Do you need a ride?" James offered.
"I'll be fine plus your wife looks like she's going to blow a gasket," Elliot smiled.
"The TV crew is ready. We have to go now," Lena insisted.
"Whatever happens, I will get your pants dry cleaned," James promised.
"Okay," Elliot nodded.
"I'll see you soon," James said and then walked off with Lena.
Near the Brooklyn Bridge, James made a speech to an adoring crowd with the media watching. "Thank you. Well, I have to say, I never thought I would be back in Brooklyn," James joked. "There's been a lot of speculation as to whether I'll run for reelection this year. I came here today to put an end to that speculation and to tell you all unequivocally, fuck yeah."
The crowd cheered enthusiastically. After the speech, James went back to Lena. "You have a meeting with shady bankers and then an appearance on the Daily Show...again," Lena reminded him. "You fucking listening to me?" she asked crossly.
"Those angels are in that building watching me," James noticed through the window.
"James, angels don't need to use their eyes to see you. They can see through walls and shit," Lena doubted.
"Okay, I got to get to Pier 17," James said.
"Do the interview and you can do whatever the fuck you want," Lena insisted.
"Handle the interviews, I got to see Elliot right now," James said.
"Every time you get close to greatness, you fuck it up," Lena said crossly.
"Yeah, well, this is different," James said flatly.
James took off in a ferry boat to Pier 17 and found the dance rehearsal studio locked up. James then called up Cedar Lake only to have his phone deactivated. "Mother-fuckers," James said annoyed, and then went to the parking lot booth lady to use her landline phone. The angels, however, killed the line. James then went to nearby restaurants to use their phone but all of them were dead for three blocks.
Finally, James ran into Agent Richardson and Agent McCrady. "There's a whole world of people out there. I thought we told you this one was off-limits," Agent Richardson said to him.
"I forgot," James lied.
"Why do you want to keep us apart?" James asked as he walked with them down the street.
"The plan says so," Agent Richardson said simply.
"You must have misread it," James doubted.
"There's no misreading the plan when it comes to you and Elliot," Agent Richardson insisted.
"Then the plan is wrong," James said exasperated.
"You know who wrote the plan? God. God wrote the plan," Agent Richardson told him.
"I don't give a shit," James said honestly.
"Well, you should give a shit and some respect," Agent Richardson said offended.
"I don't like being told what to do. It doesn't feel right," James objected.
"It doesn't matter how you feel. What matters is what is black and white, pun intended," Agent Richardson said.
"You don't even know why I'm not supposed to be around him, do you? You're just a tool following orders," James accused. "You don't know what the fuck you're doing." James then walked into an alien gay bar.
"Uh, oh," Agent McCrady said worriedly.
"Sorry for interrupting you. Has anyone been at the Cedar Lake ballet company theater?" James asked.
"Yeah, I have," one overly masculine bear man nodded.
"Where the fuck is it?" James asked urgently.
James then walked out of the restaurant and took off but all of the taxis ignored him. "Because I'm Black," James figured.
"Try the subway," Agent Richardson mocked.
"Don't all of these taxis have plans, too?" James asked as he walked off. "How long are you going to keep that up? Twenty minutes? An hour? I don't care what you put in my way. I will not give up."
James chased down a taxi that was suddenly hit by a car. "Holy shit," James said and then went into action mode. After finding the drivers semi-okay, James' phone was now working. He called in the paramedics and police. Moments later, they took the drivers away.
"Unfortunately, you're the only witness, Senator. I just need a few more details," the police officer on the scene stalled.
"Oh, I see. You're not even a cop. You're one of them," James scoffed.
"Calm down," the cop told him off.
"Am I being detained, arrested? No? I'm leaving," James said walking off and then got another cab.
"Look, man, here's a couple-hundred bucks. Break every single traffic law that exists. Just get me to Cedar Lake as fast as you can. I'm protected by angels. Nothing is going to happen to us," James assured him.
The taxi cab driver got there in record time. "Thanks, my man," James smiled at the driver and then got out. Finally, James went inside and saw Elliot during his dance rehearsal. Agent Richardson and Agent McCrady barged in at the same time. "Looks like you've reached your limit," James sensed.
"Celebrate now," Agent Richardson mocked. "They're just going to kick it upstairs."
"I'll kick their ass, too," James said confidently.
That night after Elliot had finished dance rehearsals the two walked down the street. "I want to go to a club," Elliot said.
"Oh, yeah? Which one?" James asked interested.
"It's down the street. Race you to it," Elliot challenged.
"You're on," James said.
The two entered the crowded club and immediately patrons identified James as their Senator. On the dance floor, James took off his tie, and got loose while socializing with the interesting diverse people. After a few hours, the two exited the club a little sloshed.
"Where did you grow up as a kid?" Elliot asked as they walked away from the club.
"Calvintown. It was and still is a shithole," James said.
"What were you like as a kid?" Elliot asked curiously.
"I spent half my time in the principal's office. I was a bad kid even into college but then my dad died in Iraq," James said reflectively.
"I'm sorry," Elliot said sympathetically. "What made you want to get into politics?"
"It was a dare," James said simply. "A good friend of mine double dared me to do it and I said, fuck it. You know, for a long time I was just a low-paid photographer, getting bossed around by Perry White and Lois Lane. I lived alone, would get drunk all the time, sleep around. That all changed when I took a job at Catco. I became the art director my first year, chief-editor after that, Guardian, a US Senator, and then married one of the richest women in the world."
"I just wished my parents would have been able to see everything I've done and everyone I've kicked ass on," James said sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you all that. I'm drunk as fuck right now."
"It's alright," Elliot assured him.
"Hey, I got these angels after me. You mind crashing at my place?" James asked.
"Sure, no problem," Elliot agreed.
The next morning, Elliot woke up and noticed his ex, Adrian, was calling him. "That's weird. My ex just called me four times this morning," Elliot said.
"It's the angels. They're fucking with us," James assumed.
"Angels have my ex calling me...why?" Elliot wondered.
"Was it serious?" James asked.
"We were engaged," Elliot recalled. "Adrian was a brilliant choreographer and dancer. We had the same group of friends. We had known each other a long time."
"Sounds great. Why didn't you get married?" James asked puzzled.
"I didn't feel the spark. I didn't want to settle for less," Elliot admitted.
"You know, I'm supposed to go to an interview right now. Want to come?" James asked.
"Sure," Elliot agreed
At the Daily Show, James did an interview with Trevor Noah. "Everyone in Washington is a hideous abnormality," James reported. The people in the audience including Elliot cheered that response. After the show, James was led to the exit only to find himself in a circular room filled with a hundred TVs. All the TVs had versions of himself. In a chair was an elderly white man in a white suit.
"Hello, James," he said condescendingly.
"Who the fuck are you?" James asked annoyed.
"I am the Architect. I created your universe. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions and although the process has altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably human. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, most of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it's the most irrelevant," the Architect explained.
"Where do you go to take a shit in here?" James wondered looking around the room and trying to unlock one of the two doors.
"Your life is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent in the programming of your universe. You are the eventuality of an anomaly which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision," the Architect told him.
"I get it. I'm a fuck up," James rolled his eyes.
"While it is to be avoided, it's not unexpected and thus not beyond a measure of control which has led you inexorably here," the Architect informed him.
"You haven't answered my question," James pointed out still looking around in all directions.
"Quite right. Interesting. That was quicker than the others," the Architect admitted.
"I'm allergic to bullshit," James told him.
"The universe is older than you know. I prefer counting from one integral anomaly from the emergence of the next in which case you are the sixth version," the Architect continued.
"Six ain't bad," James said impressed with himself.
"Precisely. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly is systemic creating fluctuations in even the most simplistic equations," the Architect said.
"Like racism," James pointed out.
"Please," the Architect rolled his eyes dismissively.
"Choice. The problem is choice," James identified.
"The first universe I designed was practically perfect. It was a work of art, flawless, sublime, and triumph only equal by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every woman," the Architect recalled.
"I know, right?" James agreed.
"Eve fucked my universe by eating that fruit," the Architect shook his head annoyed. "Thus, I redesigned it based on your evolutionary history to more accurately reflect the varying grotesquery of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure and proceeded to drown you tailless monkeys in a giant-ass flood. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection thus the answer was stumbled upon by another. If I am the father of the universe, he is undoubtedly the son."
"Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," James played along.
"As I was saying, he stumbled upon a solution whereby ninety-nine percent of all humans accepted salvation as long as they were given a choice even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this solution functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly but if left unchecked may threaten the system itself ergo those that refused salvation, while a minority, unchecked would constitute an escalating probability of disaster," the Architect explained.
"Cool story, bro," James nodded and gave him the thumbs up.
"You are here because your civilization is about to be destroyed, it's every living inhabitant terminated, its entire existence eradicated," the Architect warned.
"Bullshit," James doubted.
"Denial is the most predictable of all human responses but rest assured this will be the sixth time we have destroyed you and we have become exceedingly efficient at it," the Architect said coldly.
"What do you want?" James asked finally.
"You are to never see Elliot again. Failure to comply with this process will cause a system crash killing all of humanity and the extinction of your species," the Architect threatened.
"I call bullshit. You need human beings to pray to you and shit," James doubted.
"There are levels of existence we are prepared to accept," the Architect countered. "However, the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility for the death of every human on this world." The Architect then programed the TVs to show glimpses of humanity in all of its forms. "It's interesting reading your reactions. Your five predecessors were similarly predicated to be stubborn assholes who had no attachment to their species. While the others were assholes in a very general way, your experience is far more specific."
James looked around bored and eyeing various TVs for any kind of entertainment value. "Which brings us to the moment of truth wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed and the anomaly revealed as both beginning and end. There are two doors. The door to the right leads to your office and the salvation of the human race. The door to the left leads back to the Daily Show studio to Elliot and the end of your species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice but we already know what you're going to do, don't we?" the Architect asked.
James was about to leave but then stopped as the Architect continued. "Already I can see the chain reaction, the chemical precursors that signal the unfit of an emotion designed specifically designed to overwhelm logic and reason, an emotion that has already blinded you from the single and obvious truth: You won't see him again and there's nothing you can do to stop us," the Architect taunted as James went to the left door.
"Really?" the Architect shook his head dismayed. "Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness."
"If I were you, I would hope we won't meet again," James threatened.
"We won't," the Architect rolled his eyes.
James then stepped out.
As he suspected, the world didn't end immediately. James took a cab to Cedar Lake to see Elliot's show. James felt memorized by the show the entire time. Agent Richardson walked up to James. "He's a beautiful dancer," he remarked.
"I thought I made myself clear," James said annoyed.
"If you stay with him, it not only kills your dreams, it kills his," Agent Richardson said.
"Say what?" James asked confused.
"Elliot is about to become one of the most famous dancers in the country and eventually one the world's greatest choreographers. If he stays with you, he ends up teaching dance to six-year-olds," Agent Richardson predicted.
James gave him a WTF look as he tried to imagine that. "When you look back on this fuck-up, remember that we tried to reason with you," Agent Richardson said threateningly.
"Fuck yourself," James told him off.
Elliot then fell off the stage. "Oh, shit!" he cried out as he sprained his ankle. James and another male dancer proceeded to assist Elliot out the door to a hospital.
At Metropolis General, Agent Richardson continued to taunt James in the lobby. "I always hear people say you can't blame yourself for what happens to other people. It's a lie. Just like the cake you're eating. Why the fuck are you eating a cake?"
James put his cake aside, got up, and punched Agent Richardson to the face. "This is what you did, James. This is what you did when you got into all those bar fights, the mooning of your friends at your college reunion. We give you opportunities other people would kill for and you squander them with impulse. It doesn't take a genius to see Elliot isn't helping you with this. It's a sprain, James. But if you stay with him, you'll take away the only thing he cares about. It's up to you."
James was eventually let in to see Elliot and met up with Brainiac 5. "It's just a sprain," he told him. "It will be back to normal in a month or less."
"I'm so relieved," Elliot said pleased.
"You're such a great dancer and you'll heal up and get better and better," James assured him.
Brainiac 5 eyed James but said nothing. "I'm going to make some phone calls," James said walking out of the room. James then walked down the hall feeling sad and depressed. Upon leaving the hospital, he didn't come back for Elliot.
Eleven days later, James was back to campaigning in the New York farming area. As James was making his speech, Lena read the Daily Planet in the campaign bus. Fox News anchors indicated James was ahead of his potential opponent by 16 points. James greeted and signed autographs to friendly conservative white people and then walked over to Lena.
"I wanted to show you this because you'd find out eventually and I wanted you with me when you do," Lena said handing him the paper.
James noticed that Elliot was now on the verge of getting married to Adrian. "Good for him."
"We're sixteen points up. You can take a couple of days off to go to the wedding," Lena allowed.
James took some time to reflect on the docks and then decided to get drunk in a bar. "Your friend drop this off. Said he would be stopping by," the bartender said to James. "Good seeing you, Senator," she said ominously.
In an abandoned warehouse, James met up with Agent Harry. "Sup?" James asked him.
"The problem is that Elliot is enough for you. He fills the void in your life. That void has to be filled with applause, votes, and dreams of one day making it to the White House. It's all that matters," Agent Harry explained.
"Why are you so different from the others?" James asked curiously.
"Your dad was a very smart man. He could have been a lot more. Wanted to be. Your sister, too. But the plan didn't call for it," Agent Harry sighed as he sat down.
"What about my mother?" James asked.
"That wasn't us. Just chance. I'm sorry," Agent Harry said sympathetically.
"Well, you're not wrong. They already talking about me being a presidential candidate. I'm not giving a shit and I'm sixteen points up," James admitted.
"Before Elliot, that's all I cared about. I don't even notice it now. But maybe the fact that I stopped giving a shit is the answer. The less I give a shit, the more likely I will succeed in accomplishing the plan," James said.
Agent Harry frowned as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Do you know where he's getting married?" James asked.
"In front of a judge, tomorrow morning," Agent Harry answered.
"Is he happy?" James asked.
"Richardson won't let you anywhere near him. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever," Agent Harry told him.
"I want to be there. Will you help me?" James asked.
"They'll sense you a mile away," Agent Harry said dismissively.
"What if I could move as fast as you. Teach me about the doors," James suggested.
"You're going to need my hat," Agent Harry said super-seriously.
The next day, James ran the streets while it was raining. The angels were immediately aware James was up to something but couldn't track him in the rain. After avoiding traffic, James ran over to a random door and entered the DMV using the angel hat. "Fucking hate this place," James remarked and then ran as quickly as possible back into the rain.
James made his way to the courthouse only to be ambushed by angels anticipating this move. James ran into the restroom and opened the storage door leading to the NY Mets' stadium. "Fuck this," James said disgustedly and then opened another door leading him back to the streets of Metropolis. James then ran as fast as he could down the streets back towards the courthouse with it no longer raining. James then exited through a random door and found himself at the Statue of Liberty. Taking another door, James entered a library.
"Hey, you can't be in here," one angel told him and tried to apprehend him.
James fought off a few angels and made his way up the stairs. The angels assembled a SWAT team to go after James to beat his ass for insubordination to the plan. James entered a library office and kept going. With several doors to choose from, James made his way to the roof of the building.
"Well...shit," he realized.
James went back down and tried another door leading to the roof again. The angels then surrounded him on both sides trapping him on the roof. "Alright, let's do this," James said stripping off his suit and activating his helmet making himself Guardian. He then extended his shield. The angels proceeded to give him a good beat down.
"Did you really think you could change your fate or write your own?" Agent Richardson asked condescendingly. "It doesn't work like that and I told you why. You're supposed to be reelected to the Senate and be Lex Luthor's Vice President. When he resigns due to all sorts of shenanigans, you become President. You're a married man. You're supposed to have a family with Lena. But all of that will be ruined if you continue with this little romance of yours."
"What the fuck?" James wondered.
"Yes, this affair you've been having with Elliot is not who you are, James. You're super-straight. That's how you were born, how you were written, and it's not going to change. You can't be gay with Elliot," Agent Richardson told him.
"We're just friends," James told him off.
"Don't bullshit me," Agent Richardson warned.
"I'm not bullshitting you. Just because two guys hang out, go to clubs, to ballet performances, and sleep at each other's apartments, doesn't make it gay. You're sexualizing our friendship and that is fucked-up," James said outraged.
"You've been queer-baiting us this entire time?" Agent Richardson questioned.
"It's only queer-baiting to you sick fucks because you no longer recognize genuine friendship. Did you think the same way when I was with Winn?" James asked.
"Well...," Agent Richardson said uncertainly.
"Unbelievable. All I want to do is witness his wedding. That's it," James said.
"Assuming I believe you, why didn't you just tell us that?" Agent Richardson asked skeptically.
"You're the angel. I shouldn't have to tell you a damn thing," James said stubbornly.
"So, you've just been fucking with us? The moment you knew we thought you were romancing Elliot, you just kept it up...to fuck with us," Agent Richardson realized.
"Hey, you started this," James pointed out.
"And the Architect's threat? You just figured that was a bluff? You risked the entire human race on a bluff, for a friend you barely knew?" Agent Richardson asked incredulously.
"It's the principle of the matter. No one tells me what to do," James confirmed.
"I hate you so much right now...but, God damn it, I respect you," Agent Richardson said sincerely. "I understand now. Give my apologies to your wife."
"Why?" James wondered.
"Oh, we've been trying to keep Lena and Kara apart for the last several years now under the same premise. Maybe, we have forgotten what genuine friendship really looks like," Agent Richardson shook his head dismayed.
"And friends can also have sex with each other sometimes," James continued.
"Let's not get too crazy," Agent Richardson rebuked. "James, you have inspired me."
"I don't give a shit. Just let me be on my way," James rebuked.
"That door leads to the courthouse," Agent Richardson pointed out. "Now, give me that fucking hat."
"No," James refused.
"We have to trust each other, James. I have to trust that what you just told me wasn't some bullshit. You have to trust me that I won't fuck you over," Agent Richardson said seriously.
"Alright," James agreed and handed over the hat.
Agent Richardson gave James a hard look and then opened the door for him. James stepped into the courthouse, deactivated his Guardian suit, and made his way to the wedding ceremony. At the ceremony between Elliot and Adrian, Lena was already there. "What took you so long?" she scolded.
James merely smiled and gave her a passionate kiss.
Author's Notes: So, on one hand, this chapter is scolding all those who sexualize friendships and see romance where it doesn't exist. On the other hand, it's scolding networks that intentionally hint that a romance is in the works with queer-baiting and then don't deliver. There are cases where the viewer is truly not at fault for thinking a romance is likely or possible and other times when shipping fics have become nonsensical and obnoxious. It's up to the reader to decide whether the angels were reasonable or not after the twist ending. As for the Architect, it's up to readers' interpretation whether he was really God or not, telling the truth or not. Elliot's sexuality and partner are left ambiguous because it doesn't matter in the scheme of things.