Despite that question, sleep, or any kind of rest for that matter, is very much out of the question at this time given the circumstances.
Dare I close my eyes and open them to… Well, it goes without saying that the sea around me and the skies above are the only blue I wish to see.

I see red...

Certainly not the red cape of a 'god', no, again I have no desire to see that right now. One day I'll see it again. But that time will be on my terms. And no, it's not the red haze of anger that is currently fading, clearing my vision to its normal cool, calm and collected state. The red in question is the warm, tingling, stinging gentle redness on the back of my hand. But it's an expected consequence of striking someone. I look down to see Kitty, lying face down, clawing at the golden sand beneath her in some attempt to not only pick herself up but in an effort to numb the pain coursing through her cheek and jaw. She looks up at me; our eyes meet as tears stream down her face to her blood tainted quivering lips.

Of course, I feel no guilt, remorse, regret or any of those weak hindering emotions for striking her. It was a necessary act. She continued to defy my simple order, to shut up.
Therefore it was necessary to shut her up. So no, as she slowly rises to her feet, wiping the blood from her lips, I feel nothing. Well except a cold readiness, as I fully believe she may possibly be stupid enough to repeat the action that resulted in her being silenced by hand in the first place.

She questioned me...

And I certainly will not tolerate being questioned, especially by someone who could not even begin to grasp the concepts created by my genius intellect. Explaining to Kitty the story of Prometheus and how Kryptonian technology was going to give me infinite wealth and power was like talking to a wall. Well, the wall would have understood quicker than Kitty most likely. Of course, she can't even begin to really comprehend the simple fact that throwing my crystals out of the helicopter will cost her. But oh, she knows. She simply hides from the inevitable.

Right now, if I thought for a second that it would work, I would rip out her jugular and fill the gas tank with every single drop of her life's' blood if it would get the helicopter flying again. I don't know which aggravates me more, the fact that that wouldn't work, or that I'm trying, almost desperately, to think of a way, a beneficial way, to kill Kitty and I'm not coming up with anything. Well at the very least she should be incredibly grateful. Because of my current situation, being unable to formulate a suitable end, Kitty is earning a reprieve.

A temporary reprieve...

I walk away from the pathetic sobbing, putting a small distance between Kitty and myself before sitting down on the highest point of my own private island.

I feel a small sense of amusement as I reflect on my current status. Ah, Lex the great, the king sitting upon his throne having seized the high ground. Well that may be overestimating things, even for one as… gifted, as myself. So I'll instead settle for the truth, the far more accurate and delightful truth.

I am Lex Luthor.

I am no mere king, sitting on a simple chair that is made to sound more than it is by being given a pompous name. No.

I am Lex Luthor.

And I am the greatest criminal mind of our time.

But to become the greatest criminal mind of all time, well, to gain such a title would require, in my opinion, the destruction, the death, of a certain symbol of everything deemed to be… good.

As I lie back and begin to lose myself in my contemplations, my hand instinctively slides back into my coat pocket. Grasping the small jagged shard of rock in my fist; I feel a warm viscous liquid on my fingers. My lips curl into a small grin as I feel an almost gentle pleasure wash over me…

His blood… His blood on my hands... Literally. I guess sometimes it pays to do things yourself. Because the small joy I feel at having personally made him bleed his own blood is a feeling I will keep with me… until I do it again…

I pull my hand out, leaving the kryptonite in my pocket, and stare, almost transfixed by the blood on my fingers. I get another joyous chill run down my spine as I think to myself… I hurt him. Even if he did survive my attack and managed once again to ruin everything, I hurt him. And me, hurting him, that's a very pleasing, thought indeed.

Although once again, I believe that him dying due to his Kryptonite exposure whilst lifting my continent into space would be too much to ask for. But still, one can dream. I have hope. Because although as much as I wish as I was wrong, I'm unfortunately very rarely wrong, almost never actually, I know deep down in my sickened gut, that my dream won't come to pass.

No, instead I will have to continue to live out the nightmare of him being alive.

For now…

Just… for now…