LXXXI
Twenty Questions
Wayne pushed opened the massive doors to the war room and stood, frozen in sheer horror at the sight before him…
A conference of the dead.
A massive table filled the room, surrounded by twelve black leather chairs. The first three chairs were empty but the other nine chairs held America's five-star generals, all deceased.
Uniformed corpses slumped in various positions, sprawled across the table or on the floor. Their eyes were frozen wide in desperation, dead hands still clutching at starched collars and not a drop of blood had been spilled.
The room was cold.
Eve Teschmacher took a firm hold of his shoulder and guided him in one of the empty chairs. She was as strong as he feared she would be. The one-word mantra in his mind became a sudden scream…
'Raven! Raven! Raven! Raven!'
Worst of all was the author of this crime, still alive, sitting cross-legged on the tabletop, a centerpiece for dead generals... Lex Luthor. His hands were clasped together in front of his wicked eyes - watching every move Bruce made, fingertips tapping excitedly. He smiled at Bruce as he entered.
"I apologize for the delay. The air was a bit… stale."
"…You used it. God help me, you used it…" His worst fears were now realized, his world collapsing.
"Of course. Calculating the microwave burst sequence to initiate the gamma reaction was something any third-rate molecular physicist hacker could do. I'm sure you have your satellites codes locked down tight, but I do have my own satellites…
Although putting microwave transmitters into the ceiling was a pain in the ass . Your nanites are amazingly pervasive. They get into all the nooks and crannies, even way down here. People want them around. That's the brilliance of your strategy.
Oh, don't worry about this bunch. They're only here to provide ambiance.
Do you know the problem with Washington, Bruce?"
"…You?"
"I'm the solution, Wayne. No, the true problem with Washington is politics. What it took me minutes to figure out, they were going to take to committee... That would take months! They made a career of saying 'Yes Sir!' and having independent thought beaten out of them by even bigger morons. They only had to answer one question..."
"What do you want, Luthor?"
"Very good, Mr. Wayne. That's the correct question."
Bruce felt a cold steel barrel touch the back of his head. Miss Teschmacher remained behind him, now armed and ready to shoot with a single command from Luthor, who explained…
"We're going to play a little game, Mr. Secretary. I'll ask a question… you answer. If the answer is wrong… you die. If you leave your chair, you die. But, if you answer correctly, you get to ask me a question. I'm sure you must have some questions for me."
"What happens if you get the answer wrong?"
"I never get the answer wrong... It's my game. But I will answer as truthfully as I can. Let's bring out our other two contestants, shall we?" Luthor turned to look behind him. "Gentlemen, please bring out the prisoners."
From the doorway at the back of the room, two hooded figures emerged, handled by soldiers and guided to the chairs on the left and right of Bruce. A full house.
Even with their faces concealed, Bruce knew immediately who they were… Lucius Fox and Talia al Ghul sat beside him, each with their own soldier pointing pistols at the back of their hooded heads. They were quiet but had regained consciousness.
"Let's begin shall we? I'll start with Mr. Fox. Answer carefully, sir… what can the League of Assassins do for you?"
"The League provides the life eternal, I will live forever!"
"Wrong! The correct answer is… nothing."
BLAM!
Bruce jumped in his chair as the brains and skull of Lucius Fox spread across the table in front of him. Bruce felt his heart try to beat its way out of his chest as his former CEO fell across the table top. Luthor was mad. Bruce had known it all along, but had no idea he had been this far gone. The madman was not letting them leave this room alive.
"Everyone should be clear on how the game is played now. Let's continue.
The next question is to you, Mr. Wayne… Choose your words carefully… remember - she's holding a gun to the back of your head. What is my personal assistant, Miss Teschmacher?"
Bruce swallowed and forced his brain to work.
"It's frightening how close you've come, Lex. It's almost as if she were real."
"Continue, Mr. Wayne."
"She's a robot."
For as long as Wayne had been investing in nanotech, LexCorp had invested in robotics. Eve always smiled the same smile, the lack of twitches, very regular breathing and an incapacity to be embarrassed.
But it had been the elevator ride that had given him that final clue about Eve Teschmacher. She did not sweat and she did not wear deodorant. The elevator's darkness had emphasized his already keen sense of smell. She smelled of expensive perfume but nothing else.
"Well done, Mr. Wayne! You're the first person to even suspect! I knew the mind behind the engine of destruction was a worthy player… Please, ask me a question."
"…What made you to become xenophobic?"
"…That's not the question I was expecting... Shall I say I was just born this way?
Or that the bitter realities of life have taught me to trust no one… A simple enough answer… But not the one you're looking for, is it Wayne? No, you want to get at the core of Luthor, to know your enemy and if he is reflected in yourself.
As the death of his parents drove a young Bruce Wayne to create the engine of mankind's destruction, by the sublime logic of misfortune, some tragedy in a young Lex Luthor's life must have caused him to hate aliens.
Yes, there was a defining tragedy…
But as tragedy made Bruce Wayne build the weapon of revenge, it made Lex Luthor build the man. A man with no limitations, free from the burdens of morality.
That's the difference between us, Wayne. We are both men of extreme intellect, but yours is swayed by compassion - after you could no longer afford the high price of hate.
Compassion is weakness, Mr. Wayne… Remember that. I am a man who is ruled by intellect alone.
Why am I afraid of aliens? Let me tell you about my father...
You see, like you, I lost my father when I was young, thirteen in fact. He was a scientist, very smart, convinced of the existence of extraterrestrial life. A man consumed by his passion.
He even built his own observation tower on our property, aimed it at the stars - where I spent many nights, lost in bright eyed wonder at this search for alien intelligence in the inky blackness.
Actually, Lois Lane reminded me of my father. They would have been great friends… And as she had opened her arms to invite oblivion to our shores, so too had my father broadcast his own doom into space.
His call was answered. Aliens came to Earth. The greatest accomplishment of his life, shared with his son.
A son who witnessed things from the stars he could never describe... tear his father apart without hesitation or mercy. Aliens, demons, monsters I can not say, only that even their appearance filled me with terror. Their actions even more so.
I ran for my life, afraid to this day of what lies just beyond the dark recesses of space.
That single event opened my eyes and has guided my life. It is the true core of Luthor. What you call xenophobia is actually an understanding of our position in the Universe… Annoyances, nothing more.
And that is where humanity fails, Mr. Wayne... Death does not care about our point of view or beliefs or if we are good... It only cares if we shoot first... And that is why I fear aliens.
And now Miss al Ghul, we come to you..."
"What did you inject me with?!" The voice from beneath the hood was demanding.
"Rules, my dear... I ask first. The ability to push out another's consciousness, can anyone learn this trick?"
"No. Now answer my question, Luthor!"
"Hoffner truth serum."
"What does it do?!"
"I'm sorry, we have three more questions to go before I get back to you. Now Mr. Wayne, your turn once again..." Lex pulled a 9mm handgun from behind him - admiring it lovingly.
"Amazing really, even for two old war mongers like us, steeped in the industry of death, there were always be a place in my heart for guns… Now Mr. Wayne, when will your pretty wife be joining us?"
"As soon as Scott Free is safe. Hopefully very soon."
"I see. How fortuitous that she makes a cloud of smoke before she appears. Certainly enough time for a man – or his robot - to aim and pull a trigger... Not an informative answer. Your next one will have to be better. Now ask a question."
"...How will you defeat Trigon if Raven is dead?"
"Actions have consequences, is that what you hope to impart?… I'm still not convinced such a thing exists but even if it did, I will find a way. Let's get some outside advice though, shall we? We do happen to have an expert among us… Miss al Ghul, has the League truly summoned a demon called Trigon?"
"Yes." Talia sounded pleased to provide this answer. If Luthor did not believe in Trigon, he was as good as dead. "Does Hoffner truth serum kill its victim?"
"Yes, it does." Luthor sounded equally pleased to provide his reply. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask a tough question now Mr. Wayne... and I will not accept vague generalities …What is Trigon?"
Wayne drew a deep breath.
"Trigon is the physical manifestation of negative energy. The Azarathians were the first to learn how to cast out their negative emotions - exiling them beyond the Great Door of Azarath. This negative energy accumulated into an alien life who was able to rip more negative energy from incorporeal souls to feed his ever-growing lust for power. With the genocide of Kahndaq, it is reasonable to assume he has consumed over ten million souls to balance the entry onto our planet across the soul barrier.
Trigon is a demon who has destroyed various worlds and now leads a demon army onto the lands of Earth. He has power beyond measure, is one thousand years old and can project his influence across dimensions to bend people to his evil will. He is the Great Destroyer and will destroy all humanity in very short order while you play twenty questions."
"Impressive. You seem to know a lot about this Trigon…"
"He's my father-in-law."
"Well, that is a game changer… I must reconsider. A question for Talia then…" Bruce cut him off quickly.
"I get a question first, Luthor."
"Fine... Ask away." The bald man sighed.
"How do your robots know when to shoot us?"
When Lucius had been murdered, there had been no obvious sign from Luthor, no hand motion or wink. It was a life-or-death final roll of the dice as Bruce planted his feet firmly on the floor, straightened his back and raised himself to his full height, trying to stare eye-to-eye with Luthor - who still sat on the table in front of him, grinning.
"In a game where... incorrect answers are fatal Mr. Wayne, you ask the only question that will get you killed - but I am obliged to answer. Surely you must have guessed that it was a verbal cue. A man of your skills of detection would have noticed a hand motion, a wink, even a certain look. So it was words. When I say words, perhaps the word nothing…"
Luthor smiled as Bruce suddenly flinched, cringing…
"…That was unkind, I admit. But I may say nothing inadvertently and then our little game comes to a tragic halt. So it's not a simple word. No, it's a two-part command that depends on whom I'm talking to. It begins when I say the word Wrong… And ends very tragically when I finish my next sent…"
It was all Bruce needed to hear.
With the reflexes of an agitated cobra, Wayne dropped down in his leather chair as he simultaneously pushed up on Eve Teschmacher's robotic right arm with all the force his two hands could give him. Please God, he only needed to raise the arm holding the gun a few inches to achieve the angle he needed...
"…ence." Before the president could stop his last consonant, Luthor realized too late what Bruce had wagered to beat him at his own game.
BLAM!
From the seat of his chair, Wayne saw where the bullet struck and the devastating effect.
The greatest and most corrupt mind of their generation instantly sprayed across the room behind them… all from a small entry wound which decorated the center of Luthor's forehead, eerily similar to a red third eye. Light shone through the hole from where the back of his head had been.
When the two surrounding soldier robots turned towards him, Wayne dove below the table. He buried his head beneath his suit jacket, hoping his nanotextiles would bear the brunt of the hallow points, even if it would feel like getting hit multiple times with a hammer…
Blam, blam, blam, blam...
But they weren't firing at him… Carefully, Wayne peered around at the legs of the robots to gather that the two male robots had emptied their clips into Eve Teschmacher. Of course! She was the one who had fired the gun! And bless her electronic heart if she wasn't now defending herself by firing back at them.
Bruce quickly shifted over and pulled on Talia's legs as she slid down the leather chair underneath the large table.
"Who's shooting?!" She had found Bruce through the darkness of her hood. Bruce retrieved his very illegal universal key from his suit pocket and undid her handcuffs. She began to remove her hood.
"Luthor's dead. The robots are firing on one another… If you try that beloved thing, I'm going to pop you in the nose."
"I will not."
Talia removed the black hood revealing the mistreated beauty beneath. Tears wet her eyes, mascara running. She suddenly embraced him, hiding the fear in almond eyes.
"I don't know how long I have, Wayne… Do you truly believe Trigon will destroy all of humanity, even the League?"
"Yes, he will."
"I do not fear death, but I do not want to die here… Already I can feel my body succumbing to sleep…"
"Come on!"
As the shooting finished, Bruce lowered himself as the woman held onto his back. He crawled on all fours, past dead generals, from under the table. The robots were now strangling one another – for all the good it would do. They had obviously been programmed to defend themselves from attacks and to destroy anyone who attacked Luthor - by whatever means necessary. Conflict resolution was never Luthor's strong point.
Eve looked to be in a state of terrible repair, her circuitry exposed through various bullet wounds, but still she struggled against her two assailants, to bravely preserve the semblance of life LexCorp had given her. As she spotted Bruce, she flashed that same smile, parts of her lips missing where the hallow points had hit.
'Your very handsome, Mr. Wayne' echoed in his thoughts as he raised Talia. He smiled back at the machine. Good Bye Miss Teschmacher, you were the best thing Lex Luthor ever made.
With Talia now slung over his shoulder, Bruce Wayne ran from the bowels of Hell.
Author's Note:
Bruce Wayne is not a killer, but when faced with a life-or-death situation with no way out, he will (like most people) defend himself.
And where is Raven?...