Adorably Lex-reminiscent suit? Check.

Similarly-adorable anti-Lobo dolphin-themed necklace, even though it's porpoises I throw money at conserving? Check. (Side note- I had to hack that money from LexCorp. As usual. My allowance is primarily determined by my ability to subvert father's lesser bank accounts.)

Two-heads and two-tails coins, for cheating at coin flips when my fellow six-or-seven-whatever-year-olds are being little shits, and also for use against Two-Face in the unlikely scenario he visits Metropolis at this specific place and time? Check.

Acid dropper and hand lens, in event of needing to analyse rocks or dissolve extremely tiny pieces of kryptonite? Check.

A lighter, some chalk, one of those instant-freeze pack thingies and a hand mirror? Check.

It's a superhero universe and I have both time to prepare and metaknowledge to prepare with. If an adventurer would bring it, I'm trying my damned hardest to do the same- and as long as I'm either six or the daughter of Lex Luthor, I can get away with it. I'm not quite sure which.

(I'm not quite sure why the 'daughter' bit is a thing. Part might be that I don't really see Lex as a guy to treat a son as anything but competition. Another is that one time somebody tries to kill the world's entire male population, that sounds unpleasant. Perhaps I'm supposed to talk to Poison Ivy at some point, but... eh. Plants are boring. It's not in the plans at any rate.)

I looked in the mirror. I was more than a little bit similar to my father- he'd performed the classic 'me, but with various other genetic donors for the sake of aesthetics and capability' schtick. (No additional magic genes, alas- only parlour tricks until I can mod in something myself.) Dark green eyes, relatively strong features for my age, a strong build- general Lex Luthor, Female Midget Edition. Apart from the baldness. That's a weird sort of gingery-blonde colour that I keep in a pixie cut, because hair is good but inconvenient.

(Now the subject's been brought up, another reason for being female may be to avoid baldness. My head needs to be covered in a fabulous set of hair at all times and I won't take no for an answer. But I digress.)

Satisfied that I looked neat enough to avoid being told to go back and try again, I stepped out of the room with a curt nod. "Father."

"Lena," he replied, frowning. "You've stuffed your pockets. Again."

This was true. However, I was a little brat and could get away with it- the perfect reason to continue doing so. "I've been working on my packing skills," I said neutrally. "And made a few alterations to the pockets."

"Mmh." His expression hadn't changed. "Take out a few items. You may keep the rest- it's good practice."

I immediately picked out a few rolled-up pieces of tissue paper from my pockets and placed them in the bin I'd strategically moved next to the door. Then I did my best who's-your-favourite-and-smartest-girl-ever smile, purely for my own amusement.

He sighed, bringing a palm to his face for a moment. "I don't know why I'm surprised- come on."

We headed for the elevators, Mercy moving slightly ahead of us in order to do bodyguard things and press the buttons. Because apparently Lex needed someone to do that for him. The doors clicked shut neatly behind us, and pleasant music came out from the speakers as the elevator descended.

"The music again?" Lex said, frowning at the bright and cheery tune.

"I like it." Apparently I was unique in my appreciation for elevator music, in this life at least- I never really heard it in my first one. Mass Effect elevators were great and nobody can tell me otherwise. (Lex could probably fix the elevators with ease, but he was a busy man. As it was I was just stoking the fires of the IT department's hatred of me with my shenanigans. All hail Lena Luthor, Chief Of All Petty Evils.)

"I heard the little gremlin made it personalised to respond to whoever's using it," Mercy noted. I smiled internally- I enjoyed knowing my hard work was being 'appreciated'. "Plays that Macaron song every time Chef Walters uses it. Drives him nuts."

"That's good," I said, keeping my features carefully schooled. "I was hoping my feature recognition system worked properly. The initial prototype appears to be a great success."

I remained steadfast in my supervillainous stare into the wall, mainly so it wouldn't falter. Father was giving me a judging look for my shenanigans. I just knew it. But the reporters would be my salvation.

The elevator opened. True to form, the reporters were already pressed up to the glass.

Father tapped my shoulder- I looked up. "I replaced it with one-way mirrors," he said, glaring and with a note of disapproval in his voice. "In the future, make sure you use your skills for something that doesn't disrupt my facilities."

I looked up sheepishly... Then I raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking up at him. "Wait," I said, pointing at the lights inside and the slowly darkening street beyond, "doesn't one-way glass only work when the inside is darker?"

Mercy answered on his behalf. "Not at LexCorp, kid. Not at LexCorp."

Then we were at the door, and I steeled my features, blotting the reporters out of my mind. In most situations? Ignoring people worked wonders for solving problems. And I was very good at it.

Now if only that meme that said I was Batman went away, all would be perfect. Apparently Luthor genes make for being supernaturally talented at glaring.

We stepped through the barricade of camera flashes, Mercy holding the door as I barely remembered to climb in with dignity rather than performing the sitting-down equivalent of a dropkick. She shut the door behind me. "Y'know, if those reporters had something better to do," I said , "my life would be a lot less stressful."

"They always have something better to do," he responded in an irritated rumble. "They just haven't realised it yet."

"'Yet'?" Mercy questioned

"A fair point," he conceded.

I tuned out to watch the skyline.

I personally prefer old cities with some good old-fashioned stonework- none of this 'old is a hundred years ago' or however old 'us' American folk say it is. Give me a good cathedral over a skyscraper any day.

But Metropolis is beautiful in its own right. All polished glass and highrise steel, in a city that was clean in a way that my universe simply wasn't. It may have been a high-rise tangle of roads and towering, monolithic buildings, but this place had moved beyond diesel and petrol, and the rubber for the tires (which normally wears off to make road dust) must have been ten times better- it was almost as clean by the roadside as it was in the middle of Rivers Park.

Lex Luthor says he owns half the city- and it's true, but most people think he just means the buildings or the businesses. This, though? The city wouldn't be like this without his influence. When he started up, the place was more like Gotham than anything else.

People say Superman is the Man of Tomorrow. Maybe he is- but he's preserving tomorrow, not creating it.

...Well, apart from the whole mass inspiration thing, which is kinda the point, I guess. Great guy, even if the cartoons in my last life biased me a bit. But I'd like to see him punch air pollution in the face.

(I'm calling it. He'll manage it at some point. There's a whole lot of supervillains in this world and I don't know a fifth of them.)

"Who are we meeting today?" I asked, continuing to stare out at the skyline beyond.

"Bruce Wayne has expressed interest in a research partnership," my father said. "My last major deal is on the verge of completion, so it's time to look for the next one."

Well now- that piqued my interest. LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises? That would produce something impressive. "Medical?" I asked, turning away from the window. "I heard he puts a lot into that sort of thing."

He chuckled. "No, there's no profit in medicine with Wayne Enterprises," he replied. "The man's got talent, and has a good eye for people, but his business sense is less than stellar. He barely even sells that stuff at a profit."

My eyebrows knitted. We... didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on that sort of thing, but I was six and he generally refrained from bringing those topics up. "Oh."

"Would space exploration be an acceptable alternative?" he noted with no small amount of amusement. My eyes lit up greedily. "My sources indicate he's stumbled across a few new metal alloys of particular use, particularly resistant to shock or erosion- likely retrieved by that vigilante fellow he keeps in his city. I considered espionage, but Mr Wayne is a powerful man, even should he be coasting on the expertise of his parents."

I blinked. "You think Batman got it for him? Rather than," I said, "his legions of research scientists or whatever he has?"

Luthor turned to me, with the usual long-suffering expression he got when interacting with me for long periods of time. "Yes," he said sardonically, "'Batman'... I've researched some of the more well-recorded incidents, and his armour seems to have been improved to a similar quality as this alloy at about the same time." A smirk grew across what I could see of his reflection. "And Wayne isn't exactly the sort to go looking for materials perfect for body armour. I suspect the Batman sells off captured technology and recieves a bounty from Wayne Enterprises- even if they had to produce ten of those 'Batmobiles', they'd still pull a profit if they invested the knowledge wisely."

"The guy probably needs ten Batmobiles in that city," I noted. "But you have to promise to make them visit Europa."

"Europa? What, you think we'll find moon rocks in Scotland or something?" Mercy spoke up.

I giggled in amusement- getting halfway through it before I coughed, pretended it never happened and continued speaking. "It's a moon of Jupiter. It may or may not have a giant frozen ocean full of ice worms, which is the best kind of giant frozen ocean."

"I'll consider bringing it up," said Father as I saw the skyline slow down. "But we're at our destination." We were somewhere on the riverside. The building we'd stopped in front of was intensely decorated- sculpture and gilding mixed in with fine red paint and other such nonsense to produce a rather impressive view. My father adjusted his tie slightly as Mercy opened the door. "I believe Mr Wayne is known for his ineptitude in scheduling- he should be here soon."

He stepped out, letting her close the door behind him. I pushed open my door myself, milliseconds before Mercy reached it. I considered it a competition. Mercy considered it annoying, which was enough to make it competitive.

Father started his normal slow, languid walk that he did whenever he didn't have somewhere to be. He said it made it look like he owned the place- which, to be fair, he usually did. It did nothing to satisfy my endless impatience, though, which was why I tried to spend time with my father only when he was busy with something.

"What do we have today, Mercy?" my father asked, tilting his head slightly to take in the smell of food wafting from the restaurant doors.

Being a person whose preferred flavour of food was 'food flavour', I once more let my attention wander while they-

"Lena?" Mercy spoke up. "Were you listening?"

"Oh, no." I looked back up at her. "Sorry. What was it?"

"Sea bass, dear," Lex said, not bothering to look down. "You don't eat sea bass."

"I eat sea bass."

Mercy huffed. "You never eat any fish."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Environmental concerns. I love fish. I just don't make plans for it."

She gave me a flat look. "When was the last time you actually ate fish, Lena?"

Err... I shrugged sheepishly, and we entered the restaurant.