Lex leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. He rubbed his eyes absently. Must have dozed off, he told himself. He checked his watch, well, at least it wasn't for long – it never was.
He stood and turned to the glass door behind him. A feeling at the base of his chest was drawing him out there.
As he was opening the door, he saw his reflection in the glass. His black silk shirt was rumpled from the nap.
He stepped out to the balcony and was quickly met with November's chill. He didn't tend to make balconies a habit. He wasn't afraid of heights, he just – didn't see the point in taking unnecessary risks. Enough bad things happened to him – he rolled his eyes at that thought.
He stepped to the edge of the balcony, the thick wrought iron railing pressing just below his navel. He looked down – there was a silent street ten stories below him. He inhaled deeply and took a quick step backwards.
He could see his breath in the air and gave the darkened buildings along the street one last glance. He turned to go back inside, maybe he would try to wrestle with sleep – maybe he wouldn't even bother.
Lex opened the door and heard his feet crunch on the gravel on the roof of The Metropolis Plaza. He couldn't believe that he had to come to Metropolis so much earlier just to get this research data for his father. …He had been having ill feelings about this since it had been arranged.
He shifted the metal briefcase to his right hand and checked his watch – exactly 11 pm. There was no one here. He attempted to see into some of the darker shadows but still couldn't see anything. When he was a few feet from the ledge of the building he stopped. He checked his watch again, only two minutes had gone by – it felt like longer.
He spun around when there was a noise behind him. A man in a suit stepped out from a shadow.
"Lex, glad you could make it," he was holding a thick manila folder.
Most people didn't address him so – casually when he didn't tell them to. "I must say, I was curious about your," he paused, "Choice of conference rooms." As he drew nearer, Lex could make out more of his features. The first thing that he noticed was the man was wearing a cheap suit. He had an unkempt beard and dark greasy hair that came just above his shoulders. He didn't look like any scientist Lex had ever seen.
Uneasiness crept over Lex and he backed up instinctively until the very short ledge of the building could be felt against the back of his knees. …This could be very bad. Lex looked behind him – they were quite a ways up, twelve stories. He took a quick breath and made himself face the scruffy man again.
The man smiled and held out the manila folder, "I keep odd hours."
As do most unethical scientists, Lex thought bitterly. He raised the briefcase and took the folder from the man's hand without a word.
The man took the metal case, "A pleasure doing business with you."
Lex opened the folder and flipped through the contents. "HEY!" he yelled angrily when he realized that the data was not as promised. What was in the folder was common knowledge to anyone that knew anything about the fertilizer business – and at his age had read more books than, well, most people could consider possible in a lifetime.
As he looked up, there was a pressure on his chest. …That bastard pushed him.
He lost balance and went over the edge of the building. He couldn't scream, or even breathe. All he could do was feel the air rushing past him, see the ground speeding toward him. He managed to close his eyes and he flew again – just like when he drove his Porsche over the bridge. Except, this time Clark couldn't save him – no one could. He thought of his mother, and he thought of Rhone…
He felt something slam into him and he let out an, "Ugh." But it came from the side, not below. He was still moving, but he wasn't falling. The front of his body was pressed against something hard and something was being rapped around his waist and under his arms.
He instinctively wrapped his arms around whatever it was. It felt like – like – a person.
He tentatively opened his eyes and saw the ground coming at him. He clutched his savior tighter and started to breathe very rapidly. Then he started to rise again and he felt as though more things were being wrapped around him – he was oddly comforted. He began to descend again, but reached a low point and started upwards. The process repeated continually.
Finally, he decided to venture a look as to what had him. He turned his head. It was dark, but he saw his own eye looking back at him. His whole body flinched at the surprise.
After a moment, his infamous curiosity won over fear. He turned his head farther towards what – who held him. He furrowed his brow – it was… No, he must be seeing things. It was the profile of a man, almost completely featureless. No hair, no lips – but it did have a mouth, no distinguishing characteristics… And it made of this – substance. It was like a mirror, but not quite as smooth and not quite as reflective. It was unbelievable how much it looked like… But that was fiction, this is real. …Wasn't it?
He wanted to speak, but was unable to. It was probably better he didn't, odds are it would come out a high pitched squeal or something equally pitiable.
He felt pretty secure – attached to this thing. He didn't know how he was being held on – what was wrapped around him, but he was pretty sure his arms weren't doing a majority of the work of keeping him attached.
…Why aren't we plunging to our deaths? He could feel its shoulders moving – its arms were moving. The continuing up and down of this ride never changed. The lights in buildings were still streaming by. He looked to the ground again; the ground was still – oh, God. He tasted acid. Swallowing hard, he rested his head on its shoulder.
When the severe stomach upset subsided slightly, he ventured another look – ahead of them this time. He watched its right arm come forward, a stream shot out from the base of its hand, the stream hit the face of a building, they swung on it, the right arm rotated behind, and then the left arm came forward and did the same thing. It moved through the streets like Spider-Man. Except when he turned to watch the arm that went behind the back, the substance was retracting and being – absorbed. Fascinating.
Something slid across his back and lay diagonally across it, above the right hip to left shoulder. He could feel it was – an arm. It gripped him tightly, despite the fact that he was pretty sure that he was already secure. However, he became thankful when – in addition to the motion that they already had – he started to feel centripetal force. They were taking a corner and accelerating around it. He breathed in deeply – frightened – and renewed his tight grip around its shoulders.
He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly, he was reminded of flying to Smallville on his father's helicopter when he was nine. Except the thing he was with didn't give him some speech about destiny or how he wasn't allowed to feel fear. If he wasn't in the situation that he was in, he might just tell this thing that it was more human than his father.
He felt the steady rhythm begin again and a thought occurred to Lex, where was it taking him? Would it hurt him once they got there? At least he knew the answer to the latter was no. He didn't know why, he just did. There was more to it than it saving him from plummeting to his death in the first place. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Suddenly, there was a jolt and they stopped – just stopped. He felt his legs being freed and the sensation of being slowly lowered. He felt himself being let go all over his body; whatever was wrapped around him was retreating.
He knew the only thing that was holding him now as the arm that it had put around his back. When his feet hit something solid – something he had no idea he would ever be so thankful for – he opened his eyes.
He was looking straight at its head. He let out a small gasp; it had no eyes. How could it see?
It tilted its head at him. Its arm slowly let go, and Lex felt – cold. It wasn't any warmer than a human being; there was a different kind of warmth that it had given him.
Lex took a step back, and quickly looked at where it had brought him. …Home? Well, it was the penthouse he occupied when he was in Metropolis. How did it know which balcony was his?
He brought his attention back to it. It was – clinging to the smooth wall directly beside the sliding glass door. He only looked at it wide-eyed, lips slightly parted, and breathing deeply – exhaled air condensing in the cold. With the exception of the substance that it was made of, it had the body of a man, a well chiseled man. It wasn't wearing clothes, but it didn't really matter because it didn't have any…
Lex could get over how much it looked like…
It slowly raised a hand, like it greatly feared scaring him. He wasn't – afraid of it, it had saved him.
It – intrigued him. How in the hell was it staying on the wall? How did it – web sling? Is that what it could be considered? …How could…Why do…Who is…What is…?
He watched it reach past him, slowly taking a hold of the handle of the sliding glass door. Lex heard some clicking and then it pushed the door, sliding it open. How did it do that? …The door had been locked.
"You're," he paused, "Amazing." He was shocked to hear his own voice. Finally, his upbringing got the better of him, "You saved my life. If there's any way that I can repay you…"
It only looked at him. At least he thought it was looking at him; it was facing him. It didn't have eyes; it was just smooth – not even sockets – very slightly indented. So, it was hard to tell.
Very slowly, it reached a hand above its head. Then it turned toward the wall and began to effortlessly scale it, using both its feet and hands. It moved like Spider-Man. …It moved like Spider-Man and looked like…
Lex never took his eyes off it as it made its ascent. After it effortlessly lifted itself over the edge of the building, Lex stepped backwards until he felt the balcony railing against his back. Nothing, it was gone.
After a moment, he turned his attention to the wall it had clung to. The wall was basically smooth all the way up, no hand grips. He walked to the wall and put his hand on it. Nothing. Perhaps it used that substance to – solidify in the tiny imperfections of the wall, and that was why it could cling to the surface. …Incredible.