Metropolis
Lex Luthor looked outside the tinted window of his sleek black helicopter, studying the progress of repairs in the ruined city centre down below from the comfort of his plush leather seat. Heavy machinery and engineers from Lexcorp's subsidiary construction companies were already working to repair the extensive damage the area had sustained from what the press had dubbed 'The Battle of Metropolis.' It didn't cost too much for him to fix it all things considered, especially since all this attention amounted to free PR and advertising.
Now he was no longer just Lex Luthor, a rich and successful businessman, he was also Lex Luthor, the man who rebuilt Metropolis. How kind of him, they said, to spare his equipment and manpower at his own expense. He must love this city and its people so. You just don't get folks like that anymore. Decent folks that care about their people.
It was laughable.
Very early on in life he had learned that you didn't actually have to be a decent human being, it just mattered that you were seen to be one whenever the opportunity arose.
So why wasn't he feeling all warm and fuzzy inside? Why wasn't he feeling accomplished? The answer was simple. His ploy had failed. Even as the people loved him, they loved Superman still, if anything they loved him more. In their eyes, Superman and the JLA finished the fight. He was just the janitor cleaning up the mess from their party.
It was incredible, he thought.
Superman could literally kill these people and they would still adore him.
Sure, people had been pissed off at the start, but now that the world was ever so slowly assimilating into this new sphere, it seemed the negative public perception of Superman was slowly beginning to wane. And not just him either, all the other 'supers', their approval ratings had gone way up judging by the news lately.
Lex was nothing if not a shrewd businessman. He could see the potential for a market, hell, an industry opening up where it had never even existed before. And that industry was superhero merchandising. Slap a logo on something and sell it, people will buy it, fast. Go ahead. Just Do It. Yes, he could see it now, the floodgates opening.
Soon there would be toys. Sports apparel. Cosmetics. Jewellery. Clothing. Vehicles. Hollywood was about to have a diarrhea of superhero themed films.
Truly, the possibilites were limitless.
Here were people cutting across every single group and demographic, every generation and class. They were popular with everyone whether you liked them or not.
Donna Karan could sell a fancy dress worn by Wonder Woman at some boring humanitarian event for a small fortune.
Kellog could put a free toy Green Lantern ring in every 10 boxes of Cap'n Crunch as a prize.
Nike could create Flash themed sports apparel, forsake the victory tick for the gold lightning bolt.
Even the sewer rats they called paparazzi could probably get you a nice fat stack of cheddar for a superhero's nudies.
Only vices have that much reach.
Narcotics.
Sex.
Television.
Religion.
Hero worship.
At least, when the hero in question was a false one.
Already people were starting to sell cheaply printed t-shirts of them in the street. Currently Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman shirts were the biggest earners. They were selling out faster than the vendors could produce them, which was the signal for the big businessmen to step in and yank the rug from under their feet. Hammer them down with superior production capabilities, countless factories, and higher quality materials. Those indie idiots wouldn't stand a chance.
So it wasn't all bad.
He grinned.
What he found really fascinating, was that Wonder Woman never even had a logo to begin with, but some random artist made one up a based on the runes of the Themysciran Princess' banner. Then a princess of the pop variety wore the t-shirt in a music video that incidentally had nothing at all to do with it, and the rest is history.
As if that wasn't enough, the artist who designed it refused to patent the logo, saying it belonged to 'the world'. She refused to accept the credit for it, refused to take any payments from the booming sales of the t-shirt.
How can you not take the money, the rightfully earned credit? He wondered. It belongs to everyone? How the hell can a product belong to everyone when people fought decade long wars over the control of natural resources? How exactly is that kumbayah crap supposed to work in the real world?
That's the problem with my generation, he thought as he folded his hands in his lap. Its like no one's hungry anymore.
Its always give give give.
Give your votes, give your liberties, give your opinions that nobody really gives a shit about anyway, give your blood sweat and tears, give your soul to the Man in the office, give your money to the beggar in the street and all the other impoverished people of the world. Give, but don't expect anything back. Never expect anything back, because that's what it means to be a Good Person. He sometimes looked at his peers and marveled at the vast differences between them.
Like the goddamn fanboys and fangirls on the internet.
Legions of adoring sheeple who followed superhuman beings every move like everybody else followed their favorite celebrities. That could present problems for the plans he had in the future. The sheer amount of attention on these cartoon characters would prevent him from taking certain...more permanent measures. God, how such people disgusted him. At such moments the revulsion in his stomach made him wish he had a giant blowtorch so he could cleanse the earth of all these abominations...
He rubbed his temples. "I need a drink." he murmured to himself. In the cockpit of the chopper the pilot smiled wryly. He'd heard that expression before.
"Alright, I've seen enough. Take me to my office." Lex instructed.
"Yes sir." Came the response. Crisp, concise, professional.
The helicopter pushed forward and banked slowly to the left, heading for the Lexcorp tower. The tablet in his hand beeped softly to alert him that he had received an e-mail. The mere thought of the internet brought all his woes back to his attention.
It was hard to gauge who had the most rabid following across the board, but judging by internet activity once again the trio of Batman Superman and Wonder Woman was the hottest topic. Batman had now blown up online because he had been little more than a rumor, an urban legend at best. But ever since his appearance in public there was a lot of online traffic with searches regarding Batman.
There was also the fact that he stole the weapon that destroyed the android, and boy oh boy America loves her outlaws. Even the TV shows couldn't get enough of him. You could hardly watch a morning show where he or some other hero wasn't mentioned at least once.
The worst part was, the phenomenon was global. Everyone was obsessed with superheroes and metahumans in general. People were actually starting to glamorize and idolize them where they had feared and hated them before.
People used to hold protest marches against these freaks. Now...Now they were selling t-shirts, making fansites and painting murals.
Simply put, his great plan to reveal Superman for the dangerous, entitled and xenophobic alien he knew him to be had backfired as spectacularly as anything possibly could.
Lex was a businessman first, and he knew all of this spelled doom for his future plans. Simply put, there was literally no way his little project could have face-planted any harder.
"We're approaching the LZ Mr Luthor." said the pilot. A few moments later he felt the gentle touch of the skids on the helipad.
Lex looked at his Patek Phillipe.
"You're twelve minutes early Corben."
"Sir?"
"My other pilot, he takes 12 minutes longer than you do, but you can fly faster, and steadier. Why didn't you tell me you could fly?"
Corben coughed.
"Its mostly helicopters, sir."
"What else can you operate?"
"Pretty much all types of ground vehicles and heavy machinery, except maybe tanks."
"Huh." Lex said.
He needed a chauffeur.
Of course he already had one and he could always hire others if necessary, but he needed someone he could...trust?
He sensed the coming years were going to be...not quite the same as before. Things had changed now, he felt it in his bones. He needed someone reliable, someone competent, someone who understood the value of confidentiality. Corben seemed like that type of person. Clearly the man had skills.
"How long have you been in the Corps, Corben?"
"20 years sir."
"You don't look it. What are you, 35?"
"38. I joined once I graduated from high school, but my contract is due for renewal in a few months, if I want a promotion that is."
"Ah. Are you planning on signing it?"
He squirmed.
"Between you and I sir, I don't think so."
"Mind if I ask why?"
He would have rather much told him to fuck off and mind his own business like all the other nosy folks and wannabes that bombarded him with deeply personal questions about the military; but he knew the drill. When a guy this high up asks you keep talking.
"I guess I'm just tired of being a soldier. I don't believe in the fight anymore. The military has become too politically correct, we can never do anything without a bunch of lawyers and some civilian oversight authority deciding everything first. Even our mandate has changed. Its no longer about killing enemies of the state. I mean, 10, 15 years ago, we could justify some of the stuff we were doing. Barely. But today? All we do is..." He paused. He didn't want to talk about enriching corporations and protecting the business interests of the elite in the presence of Lex fucking Luthor.
"We just aren't fighting for the things we used to anymore."
"You're saying we hold back too much? That we've lost our way?"
"Yeah...Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."
Lex was silent for a long time.
For a minute he wondered if he had offended Lex, or if he had seen through his bullshit and known exactly what he was going to say.
The only sound was the soft pat pat of the helicopter rotors. This bird was state of the art, he had never seen anything like it. The instruments were the same but infinitely more advanced, better than anything he had seen in his time. The rotors weren't as loud for example, yet they put out more energy than anything he had ever seen.
"What are you planning on doing with yourself? You're still a fairly young man after all."
"To be honest with you sir, I really don't know. I always figured if I got out and I was still fairly spry I could kick around the world in a PMC, like Blackwater or something."
"You mean work as a mercenary?"
"Er...yes, that's another term for it."
"How would you like to work for me Corben?"
"Sir?"
"I need someone reliable to act as my chauffeur and bodyguard."
"I'm not trained to-"
"You can fire a gun can't you? Isn't the Corps motto Every Man A Rifleman or something?"
"Yes. But-"
"And you can defend yourself, you can hold your own in a fight?"
"Well, yes, I studied combatives extensively over the years, but VIP protection is so much more than just snapping the wrist of an annoying photographer."
"You can do that?"
"Yes."
"Well then, you're hired."
"But-"
"Tell me something Corben, 20 years is a good respectable period of service, enough to get squared away with full benefits, right?"
"Yes."
"What is it worth, a couple years of hard drinking, drugs and hookers? A few bad rolls of the dice at the craps tables? Forgive my brusqueness, but I'm assuming someone who joined the military straight out of high school didn't have much in the way of forethought. You're almost 40 now, that's still a long way away from the rest home age. What are you going to do for money in 30 years time? Are you going to be like one of those homeless veterans that everyone pretends doesn't exist? Begging for change on street corners as everyone walks past with their soy fucking latte's?"
Corben was stony faced. Unfortunately, Lex was dead right. He really hadn't considered anything after the military. He honestly hadn't expected to live this long.
"A man of your background would earn what? 20 grand a month minimum working for a private military corporation?"
Corben nodded.
"I'll pay you double that. Plus generous bonuses, with full medical and dental cover. How does that sound?"
"It sounds great sir." Corben stuttered.
"Excellent." Lex said. He pressed switch on the panel beside him and the passenger door slid open with a soft hiss. "Come pick me up in an hour or so."
"Okay...What should I do in the meantime?"
"Whatever the hell you want. Just don't scratch my bird. This is a prototype, not even rolled off the production line yet." he hopped out and watched as the chopper pulled away.
Well that was easy, he thought as he walked the short distance to his office. He paused at the glass doors, allowing himself a moment for composure, then he stepped into the room. It was fairly cool. He liked his AC running all the time. Lex walked slowly over to the drinks cabinet and selected a decanter of Chivas Regal blended scotch whisky. He poured a generous portion and downed it, then he refilled the glass.
"Well Ivo? Anything to say for yourself?" Lex said. He turned to face him, scotch in hand. His facial expression was completely blank, which meant he was absolutely livid. Across the room in the leather couch was Professor Ivo, who was reading the Daily Planet.
Ivo folded the newspaper, concealing the headline emblazoned across the front page.
MAN OF STEEL JOINS JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA.
PRESIDENT FETES MEMBERS AT CAPITOL HILL
There was a photo of Superman and all the other heroes-except Batman-standing on a podium, wearing medals.
Superman was shaking hands with the President and he had a nervous smile on his face, no doubt hoping he didn't crush the statesman's hand to dust. Ivo thought it was a bit soon to be bringing out the medals, speeches and fanfare, save that for the apocalyptic or global scale events, but eh...
Now the article, that was interesting. Peppered with lots of photos, lots of commentary, almost all of it was about Superman. Clearly this-he flicked back to the front page-this Lois Lane had a raging hard on for Superman.
The photos were brilliant, that he had to admit. A smattering of shots from the battle itself, and the rest from the ceremony. The photographer had that rare skill of capturing not just images but life moments in his shots. A picture truly was worth a thousand words. You couldn't miss the look of trust and gratitude on the President's face as he looked up at Superman after presenting him with a medal. That was going to be a problem for the next few years no matter who took over when he eventually left office.
"It's not that bad. Who even reads newspapers anymore? Print media is dead."
"Is that all you have to say?" Lex asked calmly, yet icily. Ivo shuffled in the seat.
"Well, its hardly a surprise Lex. We knew they would have to say something."
"I KNOW!-" Lex bellowed, startling Ivo. He calmed himself.
"I know its not a surprise. Lois Lane has had a crush on Superman since the day he showed up and the Daily Planet is a liberal ass rag that's well known for romanticizing him. The article is to be expected. My question is, why did it fail?"
"That's easy to answer. We didn't anticipate the government itself forming a team of superheroes, we certainly didn't anticipate that they would be friendly towards Superman. And even with all of Amazo's power, the combined abilities and ingenuity of all the heroes was simply too much for him."
"'We?'"
"Be fair Lex, you had a large part to play in this too."
"I'm Lex now, am I? We're best friends now, are we?"
"What we are is partners in crime."
"I'm not sure I like your tone Ivo."
Ivo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Look Lex, I'm sure its hard for a man who has achieved as much as you have single-handedly to look past your incredible ego and recognize when people are just stating facts, but do try. It can be quite insightful."
Lex was silent for a moment.
"Nobody died." he said finally.
Ivo rolled his eyes. That was as good as he was going to get.
"Yes, no lives were lost, fortunately. But it could have gone a lot worse. It still could get a lot worse. What you should be worrying about is why S.T.A.R Labs and the media haven't begun asking the real hard hitting questions about the whole debacle. Like where the android came from, who would be capable of building it, financing research and development behind it. Its not exactly illegal, but the lack of a specific law addressing all that we've done doesn't constitute legitimacy of any sort."
"S.T.A.R is a military research and development facility before all else, they know which side their bread is buttered. Nobody's going to dig too deep, not publicly at any rate, and if they do the higher ups in the organisation will stonewall their efforts. So don't worry about them. As for those vultures in the press...you are right on that. I know one or two reporters in this city that will keep digging until they come out in China, but I'm Lex Luthor. Metropolis is my turf, they'll never pin anything on me."
"Never say never." Ivo warned.
"Worry about yourself. You promised me this would be a success-"
"I promised nothing. Not once, not once during this entire project from start to finish, have I made any guarantees whatsoever regarding Amazo's chances of victory."
Lex frowned. He kept calling it Amazo, he, him. Rather than what it was, a killing machine, an android.
It was like he was attached to it in some strange way.
Was that possible, to feel something for what was essentially cold machine life, sentient or not?
"Success is assumed, when dealing with a man like me Ivo. You'd best remember that if we're to have any dealings in the future."
"Well, as I had said at the time, the battle was not a complete failure. Amazo did learn crucial information about the metahumans he faced, and I believe he traced potential weaknesses." Ivo said somewhat defensively of his creation.
"Ivo, the damn thing was toasted and butchered like a Christmas ham by the time those freaks were done with it. Whatever it learned is lost now."
"Actually, no. Whatever information it absorbed was sent directly to our remote servers. We have all that knowledge stored away safely right in the databanks. It's fascinating really. Amazo had the power levels and skill sets classified beautifully." Ivo replied.
There's that weird vibe again, like a parent taking pride in their child's achievements.
"You're telling me this now?"
"Well, in all fairness, you haven't let me do much speaking on the matter these past few weeks."
"Go on."
"...er...the greater bulk of the data is still being collated but...I can give a short version of what we know thus far. For example, it would seem Captain Atom and Superman are almost equal in terms of physical ability, I think that will serve us well in the future."
"Almost?" Lex said with interest.
"Yes. Currently Atom is more powerful."
"'Currently'?"
Ivo was getting irritated by the echoing.
"Theoretically, according to the scans by Amazo, it would seem Superman gains his power from solar radiation. How much of his abilities are natural to all Kryptonians and how much of it has to do with long term exposure to our sun is as yet unknown, Amazo is incapable of detecting such information. We know nothing about Kryptonian physiology either, so it is impossible to know when he reaches his physical peak. If his abilities in contrast to those of a normal human are anything to go by, he may reach his prime several decades from now, maybe even a century. Whereas Captain Atom, as we all know from the information in the public domain, gains his power from the nuclear energy he stores within him. We also know that he can absorb, store and manipulate different kinds of energy, and we now know it is his energy based abilities that he harnesses to enhance his physical abilities-"
Lex got the implication almost immediately.
"They both have the potential to get more powerful with time." he said with real horror.
"Theoretically, yes. However there is a subtle, yet very important difference. Captain Atom can only contain so much energy at any one time. Because his powers are not biological, therefore his cells, assuming he still has any, cannot adapt to suit the body's new needs. The recently declassified DARPA files estimate his power level to be no less than that of 10 nuclear bombs, so its safe to say he can hold quite a bit of energy. In Superman's case, he would only get more and more powerful as his body was exposed to more and more solar radiation. It explains why he is now fully capable of flight when he was once only capable of leaping great heights, and why he appears to display a greater range of abilities and level of strength as time passes. Assuming he is physically in his early 20's to mid 30's, by human standards of course, we can safely assume he will begin approaching his prime somewhere in his 40's or 50's, but when he will arrive at his peak is totally unknowable. We haven't even gotten to his greatly deccelerated aging due to relying on solar radiation to fuel his metabolism. I must stress though, until we conduct far more extensive research, this is all speculation at best."
Christ, Lex thought. This is the short version? Clearly, though Ivo was a nano-tech specialist, he was no slouch in the other aspects of science either. He obviously knew a thing or two about genetics as well.
"What of the others?"
"Here is where it gets really interesting. It would seem that though Wonder Woman displayed a slightly lower level of strength, speed and durability as the other two, Amazo actually rated her as the greatest threat there."
"It is logical. She was the best fighter there, her attacks were the most relentless. If I recall, she's the one that kept sensing when to change the strategy."
"Yes and no. Hawkman also had significantly more martial prowess than all the others save the Princess herself, statistically he attacked as much and as hard as she did, but he was still rated as a secondary threat alongside Green Lantern. This means that there could be other reasons for the higher threat rating. It could be that Amazo sensed she was the leader. Or it could be some hidden power she possesses that we do not yet know."
"What makes you say that?"
"Lex, she is a demigod. You only have to read mythology to know there is always more to them than meets the eye. She may have some as yet unknown deeper abilities."
Lex scoffed.
"Demigod is a relative term, especially in the world we live in today. There are those that would say Superman is a demigod, though his parentage is not divine."
Ivo wisely kept his mouth shut. It was better not to argue about that. Not with Lex.
"What shall we do now?"
"'We' aren't going to do anything. You're going to disappear for a couple of months. Leave Metropolis. Leave America. Go on holiday. Go on a fucking safari, I don't care. Just vanish. I'll contact you when the time is right."
London, England,
Paddington
The phone trilled loudly, interrupting John's usual session of Netflix and cereal.
"Bugger me." he cursed as he spilled the bowl of Coco Pops all across his lap. He had foolishly tried to reach for the phone while balancing the bowl in his lap and keeping his eyes glued to the screen, where a violent murder-by-alien was taking place.
Fail.
"Yeah? What do you mean who am I? Who the fuck are you? Oh...Alright...Alright...Calm down mate...Steady on...Yes, yes I'll get her right away."
He jumped up from the couch and half jogged down the hallway, heading for Zatanna's room. Whoever was on the other end really needed her. He sounded...distressed. But he also sounded important. His accent spoke of what people here called good breeding.
He paused at the door.
By now John had learned that when you live with a woman you aren't intimate with, you knock first and stand well back lest you walk in on her waxing her pubes or something, which they never seemed to do in the bathroom.
Not the women he knew anyway. Like Vampirella, that freak.
He knocked. Nothing.
He tried again, still nothing.
"Hey." No response.
"Hey, Z!" Still no response.
"HEY! Call for you Zatanna!" he shouted. Still nothing.
"I swear to God if she's snuck out again with my Fiat..."
He opened the door, slowly at first, then he threw it wide open. No wonder she didn't respond, he could hear the music playing in her headphones from here. Really it was a miracle she wasn't deaf yet.
"ZATANNA!"
She still couldn't hear him, rolling around on the bed as she played the mother of all air guitar solos. He yanked the headphones out of the stereo jack, and the music blared out loud, rattling the floors and windows of the small studio apartment. Rock music. Of course. What else?
At first he thought it was Elvis, but when the words came in he recognized the bubble gum doo-wop harmonising of the band almost immediately. It was a Beach Boys song, Judy. He hated the Beach Boys. Their music always took him back to his dark summer days at the church orphanage run by those sadistic nuns.
"John! What the fuck? That was the best part!" Zatanna hissed as the guitar solo wound down and the singers started crooning Judy's name softly.
"Sorry to interrupt your jam session, but there's someone on the phone for you."
"What? No one has this number."
John shrugged.
"For what its worth, its a British bloke, sounds like a bit of an upper class cunt."
"What have I told you about using that word?"
"Whatever, mummy dearest. He says his name is Alfred. Says he needs to speak to you urgently. He asked for you by name, so you must have given him your number at some point."
The wheels turned in Zatanna's head.
Of course.
Bruce must be in trouble.
She snatched the phone from him.
"Hello?" she said. John was about to leave, but the expression on Zatanna's face forced him to stay. She looked as distressed as he had ever seen her. She didn't say another word for the duration of the call, which was fairly short.
"Is everything alright?" he asked softly when she finally put the phone down.
"Ummm...Yeah. Everything is... Everything is fine."
"You're sure?"
She bit her lip.
"Actually, no. I'm gonna need your help. We have to teleport out of here right now."
"Zee, you know how I feel about shuttling through the dimensions in that manner."
"I know. I know. But this is an emergency."
He looked at her once more. Her eyes were pleading.
"Alright. But we have to-" he never got to finish his sentence, because they disappeared with a bright flash and a squeaky pop.
A/N: Listen to Judy. Its a really nice song, short and sweet guitar solo, very 1960's feel to it.
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