Chapter 4: Razor

' Unfortunately the situation here is kill, or be killed. ' – Clark Luthor, Season 1 0 , Episode 17 : " Kent ".

April 7th 2012. 01:45 PM UTC-6. Republican Palace's gardens, International Zone, Baghdad, Iraq.

Regan Matthews walked through the imposing gallery of the Iraqi government's residence meddling notes of a prestigious past with the modern era of chaos and obsolescence. He glossed over the mural paintings, with an air of nonchalance he pulled off quite well. The intendant led him towards a secluded part of the palace and Regan found himself wondering if behind the façade of magnificence, they truly thought they were fooling anyone.

It became a recurring theme in his mind since the start of his journey in Iraq, accompanying Lex Luthor's visit along with several hotshot american businessmen. The Iraqis welcomed them in an atmosphere of grandeur and power in an effort to make their guests forget about their difficult position in the region.

Regan, like many of his peers, had been surprised by the show put on for them even as he caught his President smirking his way a few times. When came the time for negotiations, and the Iraqi politicians came into play oozing arrogance and disinterest, he started to wonder if there would be any significant deals to be made with them. The relative peace that had settled in the country for the last couple of years had renewed commercial interests in the country and many economists labeled Iraq a new El Dorado for capitalists.

An uncomfortable sensation began to take over Regan as he became convinced Luthorcorp's efforts would be rewarded with little to nothing compared to the seven hundred millions they had spent to prepare their infrastructures in bordering countries for future deals. Even with the knowledge of Lex's support on his mind, Regan doubted the company was a true preoccupation of the president now that he had other matters on his hands.

Then they shook hands, sat down and started to discuss and it all turned around. Regan started with small offers which the Iraqis accepted right away. Hiding his surprise, he pushed them a little and, sensing the hubbub in the room went up a notch along with their increasing discomfort, he started getting bold. They accepted everything.

The Iraqis looked more and more contrite and gritted their teeth as they realized their guests asked for more. Regan took an opportunity and was about to ask for the unthinkable when shouts came behind his back. He turned and watched an Iraqi vehemently refuse a bold offer from a negotiator until the later retracted and the politician launched himself at his side, almost begging the businessman to forgive his outburst.

Regan realized they had zero leverage and would accept anything he proposed. At this instant he relaxed. When the americans left the room all smiles and with the confidence of touching the jackpot, they left the Iraqis frustrated and ashamed.

All smiles.

That was three days ago. If Regan had smiled then, he certainly wasn't now. Despite his untroubled appearance, his stomach was knotted as fear seeped into him. He thanked the intendant and walked into a large office room. One large marble desk took up half the room and the golden decorations kept on the illusion of wealth which couldn't dissimulate the desolation he could take a glimpse of from afar through the two windows of the office.

"Matthews, what a pleasure!" A tall military officer asked from his spot on the far-left window ledge. The man's advanced age hadn't hindered his physique yet and even the dark eye-path he wore couldn't conceal the piercing stare he sent his way.

Wilson.

Regan wet his dry throat. "General."

The officer climbed down his perch to meet him. "How are you doing?" his grasp on Regan's hand asserted the commanding aura he carried. "I take it everything went well this morning?" This time, his voice had lowered, betraying the implications of the question.

"You do not need to put on a show with me." Regan grumbled, he might be afraid of the man but not enough to hide his annoyance. "I know your true self."

Wilson bent towards him, a condescending eyebrow watching him carefully. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Regan was silent for a moment as he fought not to evade the other man's gaze. "I didn't want to be associated with this." he huffed. "This is Lex Luthor we're talking about! The man who gave me everything! If you weren't forcing my hand like this, I'd have you -"

A hand falling on his shoulder stopped his rant. He looked up to the close-faced general. "Have me what? Killed?" he challenged. "Son, I'm going to be honest: I don't give two fucks about your remorse or what you want to do to me. You had a job to do. Remember our little deal?"

"Remember?" he pressed, forcing Regan to nod. "Good. Now I want my answer."

"Yes! It went well! Are you happy with yourself, now?!"

Wilson smirked, letting go of him. "Very much." he replied. "Very, very very much."

"You won't get away with this." Regan muttered.

The general laughed and was about to retort an acerbic comment when their conversation was cut short by the door wincing open.

"Mr. Matthews, General." a voice greeted them.

Wilson straightened up and walked past him. "Well if it isn't the lovely Miss Reiser."

She smiled. "Always a pleasure, General. And aren't you feeling cheerful tonight?"

"Ah, Miss Reiser, I just feel tomorrow is going to be a good day." he sent Regan a glance. "A very good day." he said before addressing the second visitor in a more professional fashion. "Mr. President, you sure know how to make yourself desired."

Lex smirked. "Protocol." he explained. "Why don't we take this outside? I hear the gardens are pretty quiet at this time of the night. Regan?"

He took in a deep breath and nodded. "Of course," he agreed, sending a withering glare towards the general as he walked past him.

Ties set aside and collars let loose, the group strolled through the Palace's gardens under the setting sun of the Middle East. At this time of the day, the dimming light in the sky burst beams of warm red lights, giving a relaxing atmosphere to the people who braved the last hour of hot temperatures before they plummeted into the night.

Lex walked towards a frail path leading to a secluded patio. Satisfied of the area, he sat on a ledge and faced his peers.

"We will invade Iran next week." he said without preamble. "We will stage an incident on the border and make it seem like our interests in Iraq are threatened, etcetera, you know the drill."

"So soon, sir?" Wilson asked.

Lex smirked. "I know we agreed to wait another month and use this visit to setup the last preparatives but given the reports back at home about the deviants' results, I felt we need to move up the date."

"Well let's just hope the scouts were right and there's enough Mono for our needs." Wilson said.

'Mono' was the diminutive for Monoleum 99, an alien metal that fell in the Iranian desert in October 1989 following the meteor shower of Smallville. The origins of the metal was no secret to those who knew about kryptonite.

Given the monoleum's vastly superior properties compared to uranium, it had the potential to replace petrol and nuclear power with a more efficient and eco-friendly energy which would ensure the future of the human species for centuries – if not millenniums.

Well... that was what Luthor had told them. In reality, Wilson had never seen a shred of evidence backing the president's claims but he figured that if the man was right, the Monoleum 99 could be the catalyst of another era of American domination over the planet or... another cold war, if somehow, another country found out about the metal.

Neither options were acceptable in Wilson's mind. He feared what Luthor might do with the power of the Mono and he was even more pessimistic about the planet's future if say, China, also exploited the metal and initiated another round superpowers coming at each other's throats.

With these thoughts in mind, the officer sent a discreet glance to Regan before addressing the president. "Aren't you afraid of Checkmate or Queen who might foil your plans?"

Lex's expression darkened. "Queen only got away because of the incompetence of the FBI. The people responsible were punished and I made sure it won't happen again."

"First we need to capture them again, though."

"That shouldn't be too hard." Lex continued. "We have his friends in our facilities, we know everything there is to know and it's safe to say he wouldn't let his friends down. That's how predictable he is."

Wilson nodded. "And Checkmate, sir?"

Lex laughed. "Checkmate are licking their wounds, they're too busy trying to survive to do anything else. I have them covered."

Regan noticed the general smirk and remain silent as Lex turned to him. "Luthorcorp will have the biggest part of the business deals in Iraq and in Iran once we control the country. I also need you to cooperate with our scientists in order to control Monoleum 99."

"Of course," he continued. "this will mean a massive re-information campaign back at home. We control all of the mainstream media and most of the smaller businesses will follow our lead, I'm not worried about them... No, what I'm worried about are the idealists who have some audience."

"I wouldn't consider them a threat." Reiser said. "The public will consider them as conspirationists and they won't be taken seriously. Let's not forget the masses still believe everything that's said on TV."

Lex smirked. "We are kindred spirits, Condy."

A breeze blew past them. "It's getting cold here." Wilson remarked.

"Just in time." Lex rose. "You're up to date on the latest information. Why don't we walk back to our apartments?"

"Right, I'm not fond of staying around during the night. Baghdad still is not safe, even here." Regan chimed in, trying to get Luthor out of the area as he looked around, his heart beating faster when he heard Wilson's approving tone.

"Even the green zone has not had the safest record, I would tend to agree with Mr. Matthews here."

"Off we go, then." Reiser prompted.

They walked back through the main alley under the tall palmed trees of the gardens towards the Palace where they resided. Lex climbed up the marble stairs leading to the terrace. "General, how would you feel about some Scottish whiskey? I believe I have a bottle from '67 in my case."

Wilson grinned. "I would never pass up such an offer, Mr. President."

He smiled. "Condy? Regan?"

Reiser agreed to the invitation and Regan was about to do the same when a shadow leaped out of the bushes behind Lex. A blade shone in the night like a spark flying to Lex's neck. The president's hands flew to his wound as he grunted, blood seeped through his fingers.

Reiser shrieked and went to Lex's side while Regan watched the scene in horror and the shadow disappeared from where it came. "Help! Call some help!" Reiser said, holding Lex on her lap.

Regan approached them. "Let's get him to his suite!" They carried him past the porch into the bathroom. He couldn't help staring into his boss's horrified eyes while he held his neck. Back on the doorstep, General Wilson stood aloof from the scene, a neutral expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" Regan raged. "Call security!"

Wilson stared at him. His face was a wall, the man was a master of controlling his emotions but Regan could imagine him laughing inwardly. "Do it!" he raged, his own guilt swallowing him whole.

The other man reached for his phone. "Code one to all units, I repeat code one to all units..." he hollered, walking out of the room.

"Hold on, hold on!" Reiser said to the wounded man.

Lex calmed down and let his neck loose as he watched his blood covered hands. "I don't..."

"Lex!"

He pushed past them and stood before a mirror, examining his wound. "There's nothing!" he said, astonished.

"The blood..." Regan said.

"My nanosuit..." he mumbled to himself. "How come they were able to slit through the skin?"

He sucked in a breath, his hand covering his hip as he realized in horror the cause of his weakened state. "It can't be!" and yet, he still remembered the claws of the beast.

Lex burst through the door, Reiser and Regan in his tow. "Have you caught him?" he addressed the general surrounded by a dozen security men.

Wilson's awe couldn't be hidden. "Mr. President... I thought you were..."

"He missed me, I'm alright, it was scarier than it really was."

The general looked unsettled. "So? What's your report? Have you caught my attacker?"

"We... yes sir." Wilson said. "But it's not a man as you seem to assume. It's a female attacker."

"Female?" Lex's eyes widened. "Where is she?"

Wilson motioned to a closed door guarded by the men. "In here, sir. There's no window in this room. We tied and gagged her."

Lex moved past him and into the improvised cell, freezing on spot when he took notice of the person lying on the ground. Her horror mirrored his own shock. "Well, I'll be damned..." he muttered. "Leave us alone." he ordered and heard the door closing behind him.

"Oh dear, what a surprise." he sneered. "I had all but forgotten about you, Lana. But don't worry, we have all night to reconnect..."

Lex remained immobile, staring at Lana even as he addressed Wilson, who was frozen in the doorway. "Leave us." The president said.

Wilson didn't move. "General, leave us." Lex tilted his head to send him a glare.

The officer, forced to execute himself, started to back away, his eyes set on his fellow agent all the time as he tried to convey his sympathy. He closed the door behind himself and left her to her own devices.

When the first muffled cries filtered to the adjacent room where he and the security detail were, Wilson knew he couldn't stay. On his way out, his gaze caught Regan's grinning face looking back at him. The two men shared a glance full of hate.

Slade Wilson retreated to his personal bedroom in the palace. The first thing he did was locking the door and closing the curtains. He then sat on his bed and reflected for an instant before leaning into the bedside table to retrieve a cellphone.

The other side picked up immediately.

Wilson's mouth felt dry as he looked for words to explain the situation.

"Well?"

"... Mission failed, sir."

There was a sigh on the other end. "She couldn't get to him?"

"Oh no, she did. She did get to him."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you, Slade."

The longtime checkmate agent ran a hand over his face. "She slit his throat. I saw it happen, I saw him bleeding. He should have died. I left him for dead, for Christ's sake!"

"Are you saying..."

"... he's not normal. The president's a mutant."

"I see." his superior said. "And agent Anaa, is she...?"

"No, sir." Wilson hesitated. "Not yet, at least."

"She was caught alive?" the voice was incredulous.

"I tried to get to her first but I couldn't."

Another sigh. "She's being interrogated?"

"No, not really, she... does it matter anyway?" Wilson answered, agitated. "She can use her cyanide pill."

"No she won't, she doesn't have one. She always refused them."

"Are you serious?" Wilson rose from the bed.

"I'm sorry, Slade."

"I should have caught her first." he started rambling. "At least if I couldn't get her out I could have given her a quick and painless death!"

"Don't beat yourself up."

"Don't beat myself-" Wilson interrupted. "Do you know what he's doing to her right now?!"

A long moment of silence followed. "Agent Anaa's fate is sealed. There's nothing we can do to help her anymore you have to focus on yourself now. Is your cover still on?"

Wilson took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well that depends on whether or not she'll talk. Oh and that dickhead – Regan, of course. If he feels empowered he won't hesitate throwing me to the wolves."

"Can you run? Take him out?" the voice asked immediately.

"And get myself caught? Not a chance. If my name hasn't been thrown around already it would seal my own fate."

"So we wait."

Wilson chortled. "Not much else I can do now, can I?"

"Slade if they ever... Well I want you to know it's been an honor working with you for all these years."

"It's mutual, Max. Don't worry about me, sleep, that's all you can do. When you wake up next morning I'll call you... or I won't."

Max sighed again. "Goodbye, old friend."

"Chao co em, Butterfly. At least I'm on the right side." he said before finishing the call and dropping the phone on his bed.

Wilson knelt and pulled a metallic box from under the mattress. He settled himself on an armed chair in the corner of the room set up so he could face the door on the other end. Lifting the lid, he let his eyes run over its content for a long moment, admiring the insides, almost awed by the sight.

He shook his head. Fuck it. He told himself. They don't call us the Suicide Squad for nothing.

Wilson grabbed an old Colt M1911 from the box, checked its magazine. He held up the weapon, pressed it against the side of his head and waited.

He waited all night.