Two days passed.

Luthor went back to work.

Superman and Batman followed the radiation trail to SteelWorks.

Robin decided to hide the gun from Batman.

LexCorp.

Noon.

The morning sky was omnipresence in the sky. No clouds to hide it, no jet trail streaking across the azure clearness. 97 stories up, the sunlight beamed through the glass menagerie of angled windows that served as a roof, heating the glass, and bathing the office—already a dull white luster—in natural light. This was the topmost portion of LexCorp's headquarters, sharing space with Luthor's own spacious office and his secretaries' station.

This was his private laboratory. A remarkably open space that bid anyone entrance, however uncomfortable it might be. The walls were drab white, the floor beige. A small marble bust of Einstein sat on a pedestal and stared out the window at the NewsTime building. At the far end of the lab, three lines of tables sat at perpendicular angles to the east wall. Each bore a different pet project: Synthetic kryptonite suspended over an iodine solution on one; kryptonite over the blue-hot flame of a Bunsen burner at another; at the third, a square cage with three rats and a shard of kryptonite dangling before them.

Dull white doors hissed and slid away from each other as Luthor entered, wearing his double-breasted lab jacket, grey trousers and Italian leather boots. He threw the clipboard on a centrally located lab table carelessly and went to the mice table.

"Good morning," he said to the quiet. A microprocessor in the ceiling activated itself by the sound of his voice and began recording. "Secure line."

He reached the mice table and leaned over the cage, observing the mice for three minutes. As he watched, he narrated.

"Subject number one is keeping to himself, almost huddled in one corner of the cage, drinking water compulsively every five seconds or so. Subject number two," Luthor said and paused, watching intently to see if the mouse was still alive. When he saw its tiny ribcage rise and fall, he continued: "Subject number two appears to be sleeping. Quickened pace of inspirations points to rapidly mutating physiology, perhaps even nascent chronic fatigue. Compare with subject number one, which displays severe dehydration." Luthor turned to the last mouse. "Subject three, meanwhile displays none of the aforementioned maladies. Instead…"

The third mouse was busying itself running inside the tiny wheel. Luthor cracked a smile and scoffed.

"Subject three appears to not be affected by the Kryptonite."

He turned abruptly and walked to his preparation table. "Recording off," he said. The microprocessor in the ceiling recognized the vocal pattern and switched itself off. Luthor wrote the results on a sheet of legal pad and affixed it to the clipboard. Then, he tucked his clipboard under one arm and strode out of the lab quickly.

He'd introduced the new Kryptonite synthesis only three days ago, and already the subjects were on the verge of lymphoma. Small rodent bodies and wildly different physiology notwithstanding, Kryptonite poisoning doesn't work that fast.

Luthor knew that much.

A simple majority of the mice had failed the test; the new synthesis was too effective.

If he was to use it in the field, Luthor would be just as likely to die as Superman would.

This could not be allowed.

The Halldorf Hotel.

Noon.

He'd slept in.

Tim Drake rolled over at the sound of the alarm clock going off at nine o'clock, swiping it with one lazy hand and knocking it off the nightstand. It worked, at any rate: the damn alarm shut off, and Tim dozed for three more hours.

It was the midday sun streaming through Venetian blinds, coupled with the chill wind he felt on his bare chest that woke him. His eyes rolled open and he stared at the ceiling for another five minutes before actually getting up.

He didn't even have that bad of a night. Nothing major, aside from a few averted muggings and one less drug-peddler in the Slum to worry about. Certainly no Jokers or gang wars to quell.

He rolled out of bed and sauntered slowly to the bathroom. Over a cold shower, he thought about how quiet Metropolis was, and figured the only reason someone like Luthor could give Superman so much trouble was because there were piles of nothing going on in this town.

"Must be nice," he said, and rinsed.

SteelWorks.

Noon.

John Henry Irons scratched his head.

"Why would they bring the plutonium with them?"

"Actually," the Man of Steel said, "we were wondering why our mystery man would head here."

"Well," Irons pried. "This isn't something we broadcast, y'know, but we do have…sizeable amounts of Kryptonite. LexCorp settled with us a few years back over copyright issues, believe that or not. They ended up giving us half of their stock."

Superman pursed his lips. "That wouldn't stop Lex from synthesizing it."

Batman brought the conversation back on track. "We believe," he said, "the Joker has a weapon of mass destruction in his possession, one he stole from LexCorp. Most likely it's a missile, though we cant be sure what kind. And we're not sure how Toyman knew about the theft either."

Irons' eyes narrowed. He stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Superman asked.

"Nothing," Irons replied. "Just agreeing with you. Schott wouldn't know something like that, unless he was on the outside. You seem right on the money."

The Man of Steel cocked his head.

Batman looked at Superman, and entertained a thought.

"What happened to your Kryptonite stores, John Henry?" Batman said evenly.

Superman looked at the Dark Knight, then at Irons. For a moment in time, he panicked, however minutely.

"They're gone," Irons sighed. "Every last bit."

Superman's head shot up, suddenly attentive. "What?"

"And this wasn't the damn Newsboy Legion ripping me off or anything, mind you. This was a good robbery. They planned for it, and they didn't touch anything else but the Kryptonite."

Behind the star-lite lenses, Batman's eyes narrowed. "You think it was one of the usual suspects?"

"Yes," Irons said bluntly. "Staff came in the next morning and found something our robber baron left behind."

"What?" Superman asked.

"Walk with me," Irons said. Batman and Superman followed him to a smaller lab off the main hallway. Restrained to the far wall and bolted to the floor was a motionless refrigerator. The jury-rigged legs coming out of the bottom looked like a Lost in Space costume rejection.

Superman scowled. Only one man could do this.

"Loomis."

LexCorp.

7:00 p.m.

Aside from the white glow of his laptop screen, depowered lampdisks at the front corners of Luthor's desk were the only things giving off light.

The windowed walls behind the desk haloed the darkness.

In the middle of typing a grant proposal, Luthor stopped.

Heard a tiny 'chink' on the glass window behind him.

He turned around to see the Boy Wonder standing there, precariously balanced on the three inches of ledge that existed. He was respooling the grapple and tucking it back into a pocket on that utility belt of his.

Luthor pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a single red button. The glass panel directly in front of the Boy Wonder hissed and slid back on rollers.

Robin stepped into the office and tried to make it look suave. Tried to make it look Batman-esque. Cocked his head ever so slightly as the window slid back into place. His black cape draped around his shoulders and, in the darkness, made him look like a floating head.

"I see you got my message," Luthor smiled.

"How did you do it?"

"Have a seat," Luthor said. He rotated his seat around as Robin trailed a modest radius from the edge of the desk, finally stopping at the green leather chairs facing Luthor. "You must be tired."

"Not really."

"To be honest, I'm surprised you showed up. Why not your mentor. Or Superman?"

"They're busy."

"Looking for the Joker, are they?"

Robin's expression gave no hint.

"Well," Luthor said and leaned back, inspecting his fingernails. "They can keep looking. As for you—"

"What do you want?"

Luthor cocked his head. "You, Boy Wonder. For a very specific reason."

"Such as?"

"You know I enjoy my mind games. As a matter of fact, I enjoy them so much I even tried them on you, to varying degrees of success. I'm humble enough to admit you resisted better than most. For that I give you credit. But only just enough. You know why I sent you that gun?"

Robin froze. "What?"

"Lies don't become you, Boy Wonder—you knew it was me. Who else, eh?" Luthor smiled thinly, baring flawless white teeth. "Consider the gun my gift to you."

Robin threw his cape back and slammed one fist on the desk. This was Robin letting a fuse pop.

"Enough with that! God damn it! I came here because you know where the Joker is and you'll tell me because you think you have to! So tell me, or I'll break every goddamn bone in your body until you do! Okay?!"

One of Luthor's eyebrows arched. He rubbed his thumb across his fingers and inspected his nails quietly.

"Are you done?"

Robin's shoulders slumped.

"Sit," Luthor said. Robin complied, sinking into one of the leather chairs, hunched over lazily. "I'll say my part and then you can threaten me some more if you like, and that'll be the end of it."

Robin waved one hand. Luthor took it at license to continue.

"Why do you do it?" Luthor shut his laptop and clasped his hands attentively on the desk, locking his gaze on Robin. "Serve Batman, I mean. You seem like a smart kid—probably always were. What keeps you from baring all your sins? Taking off that ridiculous domino mask and coming out of the superhero closet?"

"I have my reasons."
"Understood," Luthor quipped. "But would it really be so bad if you excised those skeletons? What has this admittedly remarkable secret brought you except what I suspect to be misery and pain? Is a secret identity really all it's cracked up to be if you sacrifice your life and everyone you love to…what? Save some addict from an oncoming truck?"

"Risks are part of the business."

"And of laboratory science," Luthor countered. "But you don't see me handling plutonium without the proper attire."

Robin brought his head up slowly to look Luthor in his burning green eyes.

"Plutonium?" he asked.

"An expression," Luthor said and waved his hand. "And you haven't answered my question."

Robin stood abruptly and hesitated for a moment. One of Luthor's eyebrows angled, silently questioning the Boy Wonder.

"We're not having this discussion," Robin said and pointed his finger at Luthor. "You sent me a gun. You threatened me. I want to know why."

"Batman's instilled some remarkable qualities in you," Luthor said evenly. "But the one he's conveniently neglected is relativism. And it is a virtue, I promise you, Boy Wonder. Only his absolutist mind doesn't think so."

Robin turned to leave. Before heaving one of the solid glass doors open, he stopped at the sound of Luthor's voice.

"You remember that sheet of paper I gave you? That answer? Consider it, Boy Wonder. Consider what would happen if you brought the Joker in on your own, and whose interests you'd really be serving."

Luthor watched him go. Watched the glass door close. Watched Robin board the elevator.

He leaned forward and dialed security. Told them to let the teenager dressed like a minstrel to pass unabated. Then he called Mercy.

"Yes, Lex?"

"Call the labs; tell them I'll be down shortly."

"Yes, Lex."

"And Mercy. Get to Loomis before Superman does, and bring him to me."

Continued...