The Luthorcorp fertilizer plant stood like a flat, gray, boring monument, entirely hidden from Smallville's view by trees and hills.
Clark and Lex stepped through the front door, promptly greeted by the plant's manager.
The manager clearly had no idea why Lex felt the need to personally perform a "surprise inspection" all the way out in Smallville. Knowing the reputation of Lionel, it stood to reason that Lex was here because he was unhappy with the plant.
The manager led Lex and Clark through six gigantic rooms filled with hundreds of workers and large whirring machines. They seemed to be traveling along a somewhat zig-zagging path, weaving between rooms via dozens of small hallways. Lex would frequently request that they stop and check one room or another. Although Lex didn't explain why, Clark knew that Lex was merely checking all potential hiding spots—large rooms that were used for "storage," especially with easy access to the outside; smaller hallways that led off into other areas, etc.
It was at this point that Clark began to realize something about himself: he was looking into rooms before they walked inside them. If he focused, he could mentally will his vision to "move forward," directly through solid objects. More than that, he was seeing things he'd never seen before. Light that passed straight through the building walls, made of colors that went beyond the normal spectrum. A faint glow from the internal antenna of every cell phone; another from a walkie-talkie strapped to the manager's belt. And on top of all that, Clark found he could selectively "cycle" through his vision. If he only wanted to see certain types of light, that's all he'd see. Like a switch being turned on and off.
Clark swept his gaze across the entire building, taking it all in. Despite being one of the most colorless, mind-numbingly boring places someone could be, to Clark it was suddenly vivid and fascinating. The whole plant was a swirl of rainbow-light—all except for a large, rectangular chunk of the building at the far side. Not only was it devoid of all color, but Clark couldn't see through it at all.
The group walked into the last large room. Clark stared at the opposite wall; this was the one he couldn't see into.
"What's that wall made out of?" Clark asked.
The manager and Lex turned and looked at Clark quizzically.
"Well," the manager said, "that wall is the same as all the others—though it was made with a concrete/lead composite."
"Why just that one wall?" Lex asked.
"It's not just the one wall; it's all four walls surrounding that chunk of the building, as well as the ceiling and floor. It's to keep the rest of the building from being irradiated."
"Irradiated?" Clark and Lex both said in unison.
"Yes," the manager replied, nervously stiffening a little, "we use radiation to treat some of the fertilizer to make sure it's safe for use."
Clark pulled Lex aside.
"Lex, he's lying," Clark whispered. "Irradiating fertilizer would make it useless."
Lex nodded and turned back to the manager. "Let's see what's in there."
The manager didn't do a great job of hiding the fact that he was trying to think of good reasons not to go in. Before he could get a word out, Lex interrupted him.
"Let me stop you before you say something stupid. Take us in there."
The manager shook his head. "No, sir. I'm sorry, it's just too dangerous."
Lex practically sneered at the manager and tried to shove his way past. When the manager stopped him, Lex kicked the man in the stomach and stepped past. Clark followed.
They approached a door, seemingly-unimportant, hidden in a corner of the large wall. Lex tried to unlock the door using his personal code on the keypad lock; it wasn't working.
Clark grabbed the doorknob and pushed. It cracked in half.
"Lex; it's broken."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "That's not a good sign."
Inside, they found along hallway with a label on the wall:
HAZARD WARNING: RADIATION. MORE THAN TWO HOURS OF EXPOSURE MAY CAUSE PERSONAL HARM.
"Well," Lex said, "I guess we're not staying for more than two hours."
They continued down the hallway, reaching a second door. Stepping through that, Clark and Lex found themselves in a dark hallway made of glass, staring directly into a cloud of green-brown fog. It was actually one gigantic room, with glass walls that reached all the way to the ceiling. The walls divided up the room into hallways where passersby could observe the interiors of the fog-filled rooms. This seemed like a testing facility... or a demented zoo.
Clark suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and a tingling sensation on his skin. There was kryptonite in this room—a lot of it. Was that why the fog was green?
Clark didn't want to simply run out of the room; he wasn't about to leave Lex alone here. He pulled out his phone and dialed Diana. Help would be nice right now. Clark felt his stomach sink a bit more as he realized that he had no cell reception in here; the walls blocked it out.
Lex walked toward a concrete-reinforced room in a corner. Inside, he found a wall of computers. A hand-scanner sat on a desk beside them. It was a Luthorcorp scanner, one of their more famous inventions. It could almost-instantaneously read someone's DNA to within a 75% accuracy margin. Only the designated subject or a close blood relative could activate it. Lex put his hand on the scanner. Three seconds later, the computers booted up.
"Luthor, Lionel: Recognized," one of the smaller displays read.
Clark walked in after Lex.
"Are you okay, Clark?" Lex asked. "You look like you're about to throw up."
Clark changed the subject. "What is this?"
"I'm about to find out."
Lex quickly sorted through the computer's unique operating system. Luthorcorp's research computers all used a unique OS, each one tailored to center on exactly what needed to be done. All the computer's commands and information lines fed directly into its primary function like a funnel. At the core of this particular system, Lex found a series of files organized by project and date. He quickly opened one text file and scanned it in two seconds, moving on to the next, and the next.
Clark was having trouble focusing; he couldn't keep up.
"Are you actually reading all that?" he asked.
"Don't need to read it all," Lex replied. "Just find the key words and extrapolate. Once you know the language these research scientists use, you don't need to..."
Lex sat in his chair, stunned.
"What is it?" Clark asked.
"...Luthorcorp has been experimenting with the meteors that fell here in 1997."
"Yeah. I can tell."
"But not just the meteors themselves; they've been testing the meteors' radioactive effect on plant life, animals, and... humans."
"Humans?"
"Yes. Humans."
"...What did they do?"
Lex turned away from the computer. "I don't think I want to know."
"Lex, there could still be people here."
Lex slowly turned back to the computer and looked through the list of entries.
"It looks like the last entry was in December... right after my father died. This must have been a project closely tied to him."
"Does it say what happened to the test subjects?"
"Looking... it says they were put into 'stasis.'"
"Stasis? What, like frozen or something? Drugged?"
"It doesn't say. Without reading and watching every entry, I can't tell."
"If they're still here, we need to let them out. Now."
It wasn't often that Clark found himself wary of anything, but this was one of those rare times.
Clark nodded towards the door they came through. "We should go back outside for a minute to call someone, just so people know where we are."
"Good idea."
As Clark and Lex approached the door, however, they saw the handle completely melted by some type of green acidic glowing liquid. As it dripped from the handle, it burned holes in the floor. Clark felt kryptonite radiation seeping out of it into the air; he couldn't touch it.
Lex looked up towards the ceiling, trying to find where the liquid had fallen from, but the ceiling was completely obscured by darkness and brown fog.
Clark looked closer at the door; it had deep claw marks running upwards along its surface.
"Lex... I think this door was sealed shut on purpose. There's something inside here, and it doesn't want us getting out."
Monday, October 22, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Prepare to Be Bored
Seven-thirty in the morning on a Saturday. As usual, Jonathan and Martha were already out working on the farm. Clark sat at the kitchen table, contently eating a bowl of cereal. He heard a loud metal scraping sound from the other side of the barn; apparently Jonathan hadn't fixed the tractor yet.
Diana walked into the kitchen and reached for a bowl, her bare damp feet quietly smacking against the wood floor. Clark glanced up at her; she was wearing only a bathrobe and her hair was still wet from taking a shower. This was the fourth or fifth time she'd done this. Clark sometimes wondered if she was trying to be provocative on purpose, or if she was just naive enough not to realize what she was doing.
Diana sat down across from Clark and poured herself a bowl of cereal. As far as Clark could tell, she was just oblivious. He thought about telling her she should, perhaps, wear a little more clothing, but that definitely wasn't a topic he wanted to delve into. He wished someone else were here to pull her aside and have that conversation, but who? Martha? Sure, Martha could—wait, no, bad idea, BAD idea. Don't need to have mom walking in and seeing a hot half-naked girl in the same room with her teenage son. Bad idea.
"Clark?" Diana said. Clark was relieved to have the one-way tension broken, though the look in Diana's bright blue eyes was a bit concerning. "Why are you being so nice to Lex?"
"...I think he can use a friend right now."
"I know, and I think that's great of you to try and be a friend for him, but... this is Lex we're talking about. Just last year, we were doing everything we could to stop him and his father. Bruce used to tell us stories about how twisted Lex was."
"Yes, but that was before he found out about Lionel's crime empire."
"That's what he says, but... Clark, I don't think we can trust him on that."
"What do you mean?"
"It's all over his face. He's a jumble of half-truths and lies. And now that his father's dead, I think he's lost. There's no telling what he'll do."
Clark shrugged. "All the more reason he needs a friend."
"I know, I'm just saying... be careful."
Clark was surprised. Diana didn't show this level of concern often, if ever.
"Are you worried about me? You know I'm bullet- and car-proof, right?"
Diana's voice softened. "No, you're not. Not if those meteors—"
"Kryptonite."
Diana sighed. "...Kryptonite... is nearby. You nearly died in that garden fighting one girl... And I couldn't help you either."
Clark smiled. "I guess we need to keep Chloe around to save the both of us."
"Clark, I'm serious. There's kryptonite all over this town, so if circumstances are wrong, Lex could be really dangerous."
Clark paused for a minute to think. "My dad says that doing the right thing is almost always hard, and that being a good friend can sometimes be the hardest thing in the world. But at least with friends, you don't have to go through it alone. Lex is going through about as hard a time as anyone can. If I can help, I want to. And as long as he's willing to let me, I'm going to."
A knock at the door jolted Lex awake. He glanced at the clock, saw it was 9:37 AM, and groaned. Who on earth would be bothering him this early in the morning? He looked out the window of his hotel room. A town full of early-to-rise farmers, that's who.
Lex walked to the door and opened it.
"Hey, Lex. Did I wake you?" Clark said.
Lex rubbed his eyes. "Just a little."
Clark shifted uncomfortably a little bit. Lex could tell he had something he wanted to say, but it was awkward saying it through a half-open door in a hotel.
Lex opened the door and stepped aside. "Come in, I guess. How'd you know where I was staying?"
"This is the nicest hotel in the city," Clark said as he walked inside. "And my dad knows the owner."
"Of course," Lex said with a mental eye-roll. Everyone here seemed to know each other, and Lex was a mysterious stranger to be poked and prodded with questions and obvious stares.
"So, Lex, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "You finally thought of something you want so I can alleviate my guilt over nearly killing you?"
"Um... sort of. I work for the Smallville High newspaper, the Torch."
Lex nodded. "Right, yeah. You're a journalism student."
"Yeah. And I was wondering... could I come with you? When you go to the Luthorcorp plant?"
Lex snapped out of whatever weariness he still felt.
"Clark, these people are dangerous. Do you have a death wish?"
"Do you?"
"That doesn't matter. This is for me to do. It's my father's company—"
"And it was my girlfriend who died trying to bring him down. She'd want this seen through."
A long, silent moment passed.
Lex sighed, sitting down on his bed and hanging his head in mock-defeat. "Fine. You can come. There's basically no chance anything will happen anyway, though, so prepare to be bored."
Diana walked into the kitchen and reached for a bowl, her bare damp feet quietly smacking against the wood floor. Clark glanced up at her; she was wearing only a bathrobe and her hair was still wet from taking a shower. This was the fourth or fifth time she'd done this. Clark sometimes wondered if she was trying to be provocative on purpose, or if she was just naive enough not to realize what she was doing.
Diana sat down across from Clark and poured herself a bowl of cereal. As far as Clark could tell, she was just oblivious. He thought about telling her she should, perhaps, wear a little more clothing, but that definitely wasn't a topic he wanted to delve into. He wished someone else were here to pull her aside and have that conversation, but who? Martha? Sure, Martha could—wait, no, bad idea, BAD idea. Don't need to have mom walking in and seeing a hot half-naked girl in the same room with her teenage son. Bad idea.
"Clark?" Diana said. Clark was relieved to have the one-way tension broken, though the look in Diana's bright blue eyes was a bit concerning. "Why are you being so nice to Lex?"
"...I think he can use a friend right now."
"I know, and I think that's great of you to try and be a friend for him, but... this is Lex we're talking about. Just last year, we were doing everything we could to stop him and his father. Bruce used to tell us stories about how twisted Lex was."
"Yes, but that was before he found out about Lionel's crime empire."
"That's what he says, but... Clark, I don't think we can trust him on that."
"What do you mean?"
"It's all over his face. He's a jumble of half-truths and lies. And now that his father's dead, I think he's lost. There's no telling what he'll do."
Clark shrugged. "All the more reason he needs a friend."
"I know, I'm just saying... be careful."
Clark was surprised. Diana didn't show this level of concern often, if ever.
"Are you worried about me? You know I'm bullet- and car-proof, right?"
Diana's voice softened. "No, you're not. Not if those meteors—"
"Kryptonite."
Diana sighed. "...Kryptonite... is nearby. You nearly died in that garden fighting one girl... And I couldn't help you either."
Clark smiled. "I guess we need to keep Chloe around to save the both of us."
"Clark, I'm serious. There's kryptonite all over this town, so if circumstances are wrong, Lex could be really dangerous."
Clark paused for a minute to think. "My dad says that doing the right thing is almost always hard, and that being a good friend can sometimes be the hardest thing in the world. But at least with friends, you don't have to go through it alone. Lex is going through about as hard a time as anyone can. If I can help, I want to. And as long as he's willing to let me, I'm going to."
A knock at the door jolted Lex awake. He glanced at the clock, saw it was 9:37 AM, and groaned. Who on earth would be bothering him this early in the morning? He looked out the window of his hotel room. A town full of early-to-rise farmers, that's who.
Lex walked to the door and opened it.
"Hey, Lex. Did I wake you?" Clark said.
Lex rubbed his eyes. "Just a little."
Clark shifted uncomfortably a little bit. Lex could tell he had something he wanted to say, but it was awkward saying it through a half-open door in a hotel.
Lex opened the door and stepped aside. "Come in, I guess. How'd you know where I was staying?"
"This is the nicest hotel in the city," Clark said as he walked inside. "And my dad knows the owner."
"Of course," Lex said with a mental eye-roll. Everyone here seemed to know each other, and Lex was a mysterious stranger to be poked and prodded with questions and obvious stares.
"So, Lex, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "You finally thought of something you want so I can alleviate my guilt over nearly killing you?"
"Um... sort of. I work for the Smallville High newspaper, the Torch."
Lex nodded. "Right, yeah. You're a journalism student."
"Yeah. And I was wondering... could I come with you? When you go to the Luthorcorp plant?"
Lex snapped out of whatever weariness he still felt.
"Clark, these people are dangerous. Do you have a death wish?"
"Do you?"
"That doesn't matter. This is for me to do. It's my father's company—"
"And it was my girlfriend who died trying to bring him down. She'd want this seen through."
A long, silent moment passed.
Lex sighed, sitting down on his bed and hanging his head in mock-defeat. "Fine. You can come. There's basically no chance anything will happen anyway, though, so prepare to be bored."
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Guilt and Twisted Conscience
The sensation of falling, combined with the kryptonite radiation getting closer and closer, made Clark feel like he was being drugged—with the distinct impression that once he fell asleep, he wouldn't wake up.
Clark landed alongside the car in the river. Now several feet under, he reeled against the feeling of irradiated water against his skin, but shoved the pain out of his mind as much as possible. Someone was trapped inside the car, and it looked like he was unconscious.
Clark grabbed hold of the car door. As he pulled on it, his muscles screamed at him, as though he were tearing his own arm off. Clark looked through the window; the driver was going to die. Clark pulled as hard as he could manage; the door ripped off its hinges instantly. The car immediately filled with water; Clark snapped the seatbelt off the driver and pulled him out.
"Flying" through the water to the shore felt like it took forever. When they were out, Clark was thankful to see that the driver was still breathing.
"Thanks," the driver said weakly as he coughed up water.
"No problem," Clark said, breathing heavily. He hadn't felt this tired since he was five years old. Fortunately, the river was wider than the bridge was tall, so he was plenty far from the meteors. He felt himself getting stronger every second.
Clark looked at the driver for the first time clearly: he was young—about Clark's age—well-dressed, and bald. Clark was stunned when he recognized him.
The driver held out his hand: "Lex Luthor."
Clark slowly shook Lex's hand. "We've... met."
Lex narrowed his eyes, thinking. "...Oh. You're... you were Lois's..."
"...Yeah."
An ambulance sat atop the bridge; paramedics tended to Lex's cuts and bruises while Sheriff Miller interviewed him.
"It was my fault; I was distracted and driving too fast," Lex said. "I could have sworn I hit Clark, but I must have just missed him. I was barely conscious, but I remember him pulling me out of the car when it sank."
Jonathan, Chloe, and Diana arrived.
"Son, are you okay?" Jonathan asked Clark.
"I'm fine. There were some meteors in the river, but I got away from them before anything bad happened."
"Where is he?" Diana asked, a slight rumbling fire in her voice.
"Over there," Clark said, pointing to Lex. "But Diana, it was an accident."
"He could have killed you!" she countered.
"No he couldn't. I got hit, and I'm fine."
"But he doesn't know that!" Chloe said. "It was dumb luck that he hit the only Kryptonian in existence. What if you were human, like everyone else?"
"He deserves to be locked up in prison, at best," said Diana.
"Hey, now," Clark said, "there was no harm done. Besides... I think he has enough problems. That's Lex Luthor."
Everyone was visibly shocked. Chloe felt her reporter's fire shrink down, and she fell silent. Jonathan put his arm around her. "Let's go back to the car, Chloe."
Lex and Sheriff Miller walked over to Clark and Diana.
"Clark, Lex says he thought he hit you. Is that true?"
Clark almost winced. He hated lying and wasn't even good at it. "If I'd been hit, would I be standing here?"
The Sheriff was surprised at Clark's flippant response. Clark had always been such a respectful boy.
"So... you dove in after him, and pulled him out of his car, is that right?"
"Yes sir."
"Clark, I didn't think you could swim."
Clark thought about it. Technically, he couldn't swim. "I learned the Summer before last, sir," Clark said, thinking of when he learned to fly.
Sheriff Miller didn't like this at all. He'd known the Kents all his life, but this seemed... off. But there wasn't a single concrete thing to point to, so he let the matter go.
Clark glanced at Lex. Lex was still shaken from the crash, but there were much worse things going on than he would admit. Just from what Clark knew about Lex's life, he knew that Lex had to be at rock bottom by this point.
"Clark," Lex said, "I really want to apologize again."
Clark smiled. "Hey, don't worry. Everybody drives their car off a bridge sometimes."
Lex and Sheriff Miller didn't even chuckle at Clark's stupid joke.
"Actually, would you like to come over for dinner?"
Lex was a bit unsure how to react for a second; no one had invited him over for anything before in his life. "Um... no, no, that wouldn't be right."
"Come on. You wanna pay me back for almost hitting me with your car, come over and help us eat my mom's rhubarb pie. She always cooks way too much."
Lex awkwardly shrugged. "Okay?"
Dinner was slightly awkward, but the Kents had a way of making everyone feel like family that even Lex couldn't shake.
"So... Lex," Martha said, "what brings you to Smallville?"
"I, um... I came to see the Luthorcorp plant a few miles west of here."
Everyone fell silent; no one wanted to continue the conversation about Lex's father's company.
"Um, mom? Is the pie ready yet?" Clark asked, breaking the tension.
"Not for another fifteen minutes or so," Martha replied.
"Well," Clark said, "I think it'd be nice to get some fresh air before dessert. Lex?"
Lex nodded. "Sure."
Clark and Lex politely stood up and walked outside.
Diana looked at Jonathan and Martha. "Do we... trust him? Lex, I mean?"
Jonathan and Martha exchanged a look.
"Well, we don't have a reason not to yet," Jonathan said.
"But... he's Lionel Luthor's son," Diana said. "How do we know he's going to be any different than his father?"
"Lex took a stand against his father when he tried to save Lois," Martha said.
Diana didn't find that much comfort. Lex killed his father after Lois was already dead. The fact that the Kents were able to find a silver lining in that said a lot about their character.
"But..." Jonathan added, "if you want to stay close by, I wouldn't be terribly upset."
Martha stood up to take a peek at the pie, gently patting Diana on the wrist. "You might want to grab your bracelets."
Diana smirked.
Clark and Lex stood in the barn's loft, staring at the stars.
"You know," Lex said, "I don't think I've ever actually seen the sky before. The stars, I mean. My whole life I've lived in big cities. Metropolis, Gotham, New York. I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there weren't a thousand lights filling the sky."
Clark nodded. "Yeah. It's nice."
Lex mentally drifted off, depression showing in his face.
"Lex..." Clark said, "Why are you going to the Luthorcorp plant?"
Lex rubbed his bald head, pushing away a stress headache. "I'm trying to stamp out all my father's old... 'business' ties. Most of them fell away from the company as soon as he died, but a few are still using Luthorcorp resources."
"Isn't that a job for the police, or the FBI?"
"Yes, but... I want to do it myself. Besides, I have easy access to every plant, factory, and office building, and I won't alert anyone like the authorities will."
"But isn't that dangerous? Confronting crime bosses like that?"
"Oh, I don't confront them. I just find out how they're using the company and how to find them. It's pretty easy, actually. I look through the books, check building blueprints, and make sure every room in the place is clear. I just say it's a surprise inspection and no one stops me."
"You read blueprints and check financial records for the entire plant? That must take weeks."
"Nope. Takes a day or two."
"...How?"
Lex turned to Clark. "Give me a math equation. Anything."
"What's two thousand, three hundred seventy-one times seven-hundred ninety-two divided by the square root of two hundred eighty-nine?"
"One hundred ten thousand, four hundred sixty point seven zero five eight eight two."
Clark was genuinely impressed.
Lex tapped his head with his pointer finger. "I'm a genius, or so they tell me. I use exponential statistics to find anomalies in the records, and I have a photographic memory, so I can recall every room in the building and check it against the original blueprints or vice-versa."
"All in your head?"
"All in my head."
"That's... wow."
Lex stared up at the sky again.
"Why are you doing it, really?" Clark asked.
Lex lowered his head. "I hate my father. I really do."
A slow, chilled breeze flowed through the barn. Clark couldn't ever imagine speaking those words; he'd never had anything but a wonderful father.
Lex stared at his feet. "I want to cut off every last bit of his twisted corruption and watch it die under my heel."
"And what about when you're done?"
Lex stared out across the horizon. "Then... I'll be done."
Clark was a bit startled; he knew what Lex meant. Once his mission was done, he didn't have a reason to live. Lex was planning to kill himself.
Clark landed alongside the car in the river. Now several feet under, he reeled against the feeling of irradiated water against his skin, but shoved the pain out of his mind as much as possible. Someone was trapped inside the car, and it looked like he was unconscious.
Clark grabbed hold of the car door. As he pulled on it, his muscles screamed at him, as though he were tearing his own arm off. Clark looked through the window; the driver was going to die. Clark pulled as hard as he could manage; the door ripped off its hinges instantly. The car immediately filled with water; Clark snapped the seatbelt off the driver and pulled him out.
"Flying" through the water to the shore felt like it took forever. When they were out, Clark was thankful to see that the driver was still breathing.
"Thanks," the driver said weakly as he coughed up water.
"No problem," Clark said, breathing heavily. He hadn't felt this tired since he was five years old. Fortunately, the river was wider than the bridge was tall, so he was plenty far from the meteors. He felt himself getting stronger every second.
Clark looked at the driver for the first time clearly: he was young—about Clark's age—well-dressed, and bald. Clark was stunned when he recognized him.
The driver held out his hand: "Lex Luthor."
Clark slowly shook Lex's hand. "We've... met."
Lex narrowed his eyes, thinking. "...Oh. You're... you were Lois's..."
"...Yeah."
An ambulance sat atop the bridge; paramedics tended to Lex's cuts and bruises while Sheriff Miller interviewed him.
"It was my fault; I was distracted and driving too fast," Lex said. "I could have sworn I hit Clark, but I must have just missed him. I was barely conscious, but I remember him pulling me out of the car when it sank."
Jonathan, Chloe, and Diana arrived.
"Son, are you okay?" Jonathan asked Clark.
"I'm fine. There were some meteors in the river, but I got away from them before anything bad happened."
"Where is he?" Diana asked, a slight rumbling fire in her voice.
"Over there," Clark said, pointing to Lex. "But Diana, it was an accident."
"He could have killed you!" she countered.
"No he couldn't. I got hit, and I'm fine."
"But he doesn't know that!" Chloe said. "It was dumb luck that he hit the only Kryptonian in existence. What if you were human, like everyone else?"
"He deserves to be locked up in prison, at best," said Diana.
"Hey, now," Clark said, "there was no harm done. Besides... I think he has enough problems. That's Lex Luthor."
Everyone was visibly shocked. Chloe felt her reporter's fire shrink down, and she fell silent. Jonathan put his arm around her. "Let's go back to the car, Chloe."
Lex and Sheriff Miller walked over to Clark and Diana.
"Clark, Lex says he thought he hit you. Is that true?"
Clark almost winced. He hated lying and wasn't even good at it. "If I'd been hit, would I be standing here?"
The Sheriff was surprised at Clark's flippant response. Clark had always been such a respectful boy.
"So... you dove in after him, and pulled him out of his car, is that right?"
"Yes sir."
"Clark, I didn't think you could swim."
Clark thought about it. Technically, he couldn't swim. "I learned the Summer before last, sir," Clark said, thinking of when he learned to fly.
Sheriff Miller didn't like this at all. He'd known the Kents all his life, but this seemed... off. But there wasn't a single concrete thing to point to, so he let the matter go.
Clark glanced at Lex. Lex was still shaken from the crash, but there were much worse things going on than he would admit. Just from what Clark knew about Lex's life, he knew that Lex had to be at rock bottom by this point.
"Clark," Lex said, "I really want to apologize again."
Clark smiled. "Hey, don't worry. Everybody drives their car off a bridge sometimes."
Lex and Sheriff Miller didn't even chuckle at Clark's stupid joke.
"Actually, would you like to come over for dinner?"
Lex was a bit unsure how to react for a second; no one had invited him over for anything before in his life. "Um... no, no, that wouldn't be right."
"Come on. You wanna pay me back for almost hitting me with your car, come over and help us eat my mom's rhubarb pie. She always cooks way too much."
Lex awkwardly shrugged. "Okay?"
Dinner was slightly awkward, but the Kents had a way of making everyone feel like family that even Lex couldn't shake.
"So... Lex," Martha said, "what brings you to Smallville?"
"I, um... I came to see the Luthorcorp plant a few miles west of here."
Everyone fell silent; no one wanted to continue the conversation about Lex's father's company.
"Um, mom? Is the pie ready yet?" Clark asked, breaking the tension.
"Not for another fifteen minutes or so," Martha replied.
"Well," Clark said, "I think it'd be nice to get some fresh air before dessert. Lex?"
Lex nodded. "Sure."
Clark and Lex politely stood up and walked outside.
Diana looked at Jonathan and Martha. "Do we... trust him? Lex, I mean?"
Jonathan and Martha exchanged a look.
"Well, we don't have a reason not to yet," Jonathan said.
"But... he's Lionel Luthor's son," Diana said. "How do we know he's going to be any different than his father?"
"Lex took a stand against his father when he tried to save Lois," Martha said.
Diana didn't find that much comfort. Lex killed his father after Lois was already dead. The fact that the Kents were able to find a silver lining in that said a lot about their character.
"But..." Jonathan added, "if you want to stay close by, I wouldn't be terribly upset."
Martha stood up to take a peek at the pie, gently patting Diana on the wrist. "You might want to grab your bracelets."
Diana smirked.
Clark and Lex stood in the barn's loft, staring at the stars.
"You know," Lex said, "I don't think I've ever actually seen the sky before. The stars, I mean. My whole life I've lived in big cities. Metropolis, Gotham, New York. I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there weren't a thousand lights filling the sky."
Clark nodded. "Yeah. It's nice."
Lex mentally drifted off, depression showing in his face.
"Lex..." Clark said, "Why are you going to the Luthorcorp plant?"
Lex rubbed his bald head, pushing away a stress headache. "I'm trying to stamp out all my father's old... 'business' ties. Most of them fell away from the company as soon as he died, but a few are still using Luthorcorp resources."
"Isn't that a job for the police, or the FBI?"
"Yes, but... I want to do it myself. Besides, I have easy access to every plant, factory, and office building, and I won't alert anyone like the authorities will."
"But isn't that dangerous? Confronting crime bosses like that?"
"Oh, I don't confront them. I just find out how they're using the company and how to find them. It's pretty easy, actually. I look through the books, check building blueprints, and make sure every room in the place is clear. I just say it's a surprise inspection and no one stops me."
"You read blueprints and check financial records for the entire plant? That must take weeks."
"Nope. Takes a day or two."
"...How?"
Lex turned to Clark. "Give me a math equation. Anything."
"What's two thousand, three hundred seventy-one times seven-hundred ninety-two divided by the square root of two hundred eighty-nine?"
"One hundred ten thousand, four hundred sixty point seven zero five eight eight two."
Clark was genuinely impressed.
Lex tapped his head with his pointer finger. "I'm a genius, or so they tell me. I use exponential statistics to find anomalies in the records, and I have a photographic memory, so I can recall every room in the building and check it against the original blueprints or vice-versa."
"All in your head?"
"All in my head."
"That's... wow."
Lex stared up at the sky again.
"Why are you doing it, really?" Clark asked.
Lex lowered his head. "I hate my father. I really do."
A slow, chilled breeze flowed through the barn. Clark couldn't ever imagine speaking those words; he'd never had anything but a wonderful father.
Lex stared at his feet. "I want to cut off every last bit of his twisted corruption and watch it die under my heel."
"And what about when you're done?"
Lex stared out across the horizon. "Then... I'll be done."
Clark was a bit startled; he knew what Lex meant. Once his mission was done, he didn't have a reason to live. Lex was planning to kill himself.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Drive
As much as Clark loved flying, he wasn't able to do that much during daylight, so he spent a lot of time walking. He never felt tired, so walking was almost as effortless as flying for him—just anchored to the ground. In any case, the winter clouds over Kansas were breaking up, so he could enjoy soaking up the sun's rays without going above cloud level. Today, he felt like taking a path he normally avoided. A long curved road went over a 150-foot-high dam—the only one in Smallville's area. Clark felt uneasy every time he went over it as a child—because he was afraid of heights, or so he thought. But that had been well before Clark learned of his flight ability. Now he wanted to test himself.
Clark walked to the center of the dam, leaned over the railing and felt his stomach sink.
He was surprised at himself. He didn't feel afraid, but... wait. He was never afraid of the height. He felt sick because there were meteor rocks nearby.
Clark looked everywhere, focusing his vision as best he could. He always had unusually keen eyes, but never knew if that was because he was young or because he was Kryptonian. He scanned the waters below the dam... bingo. As Clark focused harder, he could see past the surface of the water into the riverbed. Large chunks of meteor, with exposed green crystals glowing, were sitting calmly at the bottom. They'd probably been there since the meteor shower. Clark started to feel worse—apparently the effect of the radiation was cumulative—but before he left he decided to test something. He was safe here, for the moment, after all.
Clark looked everywhere, focusing his vision as best he could. He always had unusually keen eyes, but never knew if that was because he was young or because he was Kryptonian. He scanned the waters below the dam... bingo. As Clark focused harder, he could see past the surface of the water into the riverbed. Large chunks of meteor, with exposed green crystals glowing, were sitting calmly at the bottom. They'd probably been there since the meteor shower. Clark started to feel worse—apparently the effect of the radiation was cumulative—but before he left he decided to test something. He was safe here, for the moment, after all.
Clark picked up a rock from the road and squeezed it. He felt a surge of pain as he did, but kept going. He struggled for a moment, but eventually the rock crumbled.
So, he thought, my powers don't actually fade when I'm near the rocks. They're just harder to use.
Clark turned to leave when suddenly he saw an oncoming car barreling down the road, its driver nowhere to be seen. Clark focused his eyes and somehow saw someone inside the car, leaning down to grab something that had fallen over. As the driver leaned back up he bumped the steering wheel, sending the car swerving out of its lane and straight into Clark—and off the edge of the dam, a hundred and fifty feet in the air.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Over The Edge
Bruce felt the wind behind him carry him forward as he sprinted for the entrance to Nanda Parbat. He passed the blood-soaked body of the guard near the entrance and felt a tinge of regret. If he'd realized Ra's plan before, maybe he could have warned the monks. Maybe this man didn't need to die.
Bruce ran through the tunnel, steeling himself against what he knew would be a massacre. But as he passed through the opening, he saw something entirely different. A few bodies of monks lay on the ground, but dozens more were very much alive.
The hundred-or-so assassins sprayed a hail of bullets in every direction, but the monks dodged, flipped, and spun through the air, dancing around them in every which direction. One assassin reached forward and grabbed a monk's robe; the monk merely twirled around and shoved his palm into the assassin's chest, sending the assassin flying backwards a full fifty feet before landing on the ground, unconscious. Another monk used a staff to knock away three assassins at once, as though he were swatting flies out of the air.
Bruce was astonished, but still concerned. Where was Ra's?
The temple doors were flung open. There.
Bruce entered the temple with no interference from either the assassins or the monks. They were too busy with each other, and Bruce suspected the monks knew Bruce wasn't a threat.
Ra's stood at the altar, reaching for the treasures that lay upon it. Before he or Bruce could even see what had happened, the master suddenly stood on the other side of the altar.
"So," the master said, "you return to steal from this temple. This cannot be allowed."
Ra's laughed.
The master narrowed his eyes. "One should not laugh in the face of his elders, young one."
Ra's glared into the old eyes of the master and grinned. "You are not my elder. And I did not come here to steal from the altar; I came to break it!"
Ra's kicked the altar, sending a large blue glass orb tumbling onto the floor.
The master gasped and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Bruce heard the sounds of battle behind him fade. The monks had lost consciousness as well.
"RA'S!" Bruce yelled across the temple.
Ra's turned around in angered surprise. "Should I ask how you escaped, young detective? Did you overpower my daughter, or did you seduce her in my absence?"
"What did you do?!"
"Do you not know what this place truly is? It stands upon a nexus of energy, the intersection of lines of power that run across the earth. This altar focuses that energy and gives this place its mystical nature."
Bruce understood. That was why time moved more slowly here.
"So you just removed the altar's keystone."
"Yes," Ra's replied, picking up the orb. "These monks have long lived on borrowed time. Their lives are now tuned to to its power. Without it, their life force ceases to exist."
"So you came all this way just to kill some monks?"
"No, I came here for that's beneath. I told you that lines of energy intersect here; the earth underneath this temple is the source of immense power. The kind of power that no amount of wealth or force can grant. True power."
Bruce glanced at the master's still body. "The power of life and death."
Ra's grinned. "Precisely, detective."
Bruce heard the commotion of assassins running towards the temple doors. He half-turned towards the door, kicked it closed, then jammed it shut with a knife.
Ra's was somewhere between surprised and impressed. "Do you intend to try to stop me?"
"You're damned right."
Ra's laughed. "Very well, boy."
Bruce ran forward while Ra's steadied himself. Bruce threw a flurry of precise jabs and kicks, but Ra's merely dodged them, all while holding the orb in his left hand. Ra's kicked Bruce to the floor, then threw the orb to the ground with his full strength. It hit the hard wood with a loud thud, but didn't even crack.
"Well, then," Ra's said, "if I can't break the orb, I might as well toss it down the nearest bottomless ravine."
Ra's threw the orb onto an upper balcony in the room, then began climbing a long tapestry that hung from that level. Bruce grabbed a parallel tapestry and followed. They both landed on the second level at the same time, but Ra's quickly ducked into a nearby hallway. Bruce ran after him, around a corner and through an open window onto the roof of the temple.
Ra's stood at the edge of the roof, directly over the ravine. The wind gusted across the roof, filling the air with so much snow that it clouded Bruce and Ra's' visibility. Bruce ducked behind a nearby chimney and reached for the pouch on his belt.
"Hiding, are we, detective?" Ra's yelled over the wind. "Come now, face me!"
"Put the orb down safely, Ra's!" Bruce yelled back.
Ra's laughed. "Why? What use do you truly have for it? Think, boy! I have already told you what lies beneath this temple; why would you instead choose the monks? In all your time here, what have they actually taught you? What supposedly great knowledge have you learned?"
Ra's felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and glanced down to see a large shuriken—one of the League's designs—embedded in his thigh. Before he could look up, Bruce's foot hit his face, sending him off his feet.
Bruce picked up the orb and stood over Ra's.
"I learned to be quiet."
Ra's snarled at Bruce as he pulled the shuriken out of his leg and painfully stood up.
"Fine," said Ra's. "You want to face me? You want to match your strength against mine? I will oblige."
Bruce wrapped the orb gently in a scarf and put it aside, then set himself in a fighting stance.
Ra's ran at Bruce. Bruce turned to dodge, but Ra's caught him with a locked elbow and twisted Bruce around, throwing him ten feet across the roof. Bruce rolled and caught himself, jumping back up and sprinting forward. He threw a kick at Ra's head, but Ra's easily countered it with a jab of the knuckles into a nerve in Bruce's thigh. Bruce fell, halfway paralyzed by the blow. Ra's raised his foot to stomp on Bruce's throat, but Bruce rolled aside and struck Ra's on the back of his knee, sending Ra's toppling down.
Bruce struggled to his feet. He glanced at the bloodstain on Ra's' leg; it was getting bigger. Good. Ra's would be getting weaker now.
Ra's and Bruce threw a flurry of jabs and kicks at each other, causing little more than bruises. Bruce felt himself getting weaker, while Ra's only looked more menacing, the look in his eyes growing madder and more malicious like an ancient feral animal.
Ra's grabbed hold of Bruce, threw him into the roof with enough force to crack it, then jumped, ready to deliver a powerful kick. Bruce pushed himself through the pain and moved aside, barely missing Ra's foot as it punched a hole in the roof.
Ra's pinned Bruce down, grabbing the shuriken he'd tossed aside before and clasping it between his fingers. Bruce reached inside the hole in the roof, grabbed a broken piece of wood, and smashed it across Ra's face. Ra's recoiled for a moment, long enough for Bruce to grab the scarf holding the orb. Bruce rolled on his stomach, holding the orb inside the hole in the roof.
Ra's held Bruce down with his knee, shuriken in hand, ready for the killing blow. Bruce dropped the orb through the hole. With a loud glass-on-metal CLANG, the orb landed directly on its perch on the altar.
The air around them immediately stilled, and the snow seemed to clear.
Ra's looked over his shoulder to see the master, standing perfectly calm and still on the edge of the roof. Ra's growled, then ran for the master. The master neatly deflected Ra's momentum with a single sidestep and the tip of his finger. Ra's toppled over the edge, falling into the abyss.
All across Nanda Parbat, the monks stood up and fought back once again. The assassins, caught off guard, were defeated in seconds.
Bruce struggled to get up, but couldn't. The master closed his eyes and touched four points on Bruce's back. Suddenly Bruce realized he could stand up.
"What did you do?" he asked the master.
"Something you may learn, if you choose to stay."
"...I can stay?"
"Yes. We knew you did not attempt any deception. However, we wished to test what was in your heart." The master nodded towards the ravine. "Had you chosen to ally yourself with the assassins, you might share his fate."
Bruce walked to the edge and looked down. Ra's was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the bottom of the ravine.
"Why did you tell me you sought power and vengeance when you first arrived?" the master asked. "I have seen you seek nothing but the opposite."
Bruce sighed. "I don't want to be a murderer. But I do want people—criminals, thieves, murderers—to pay for what they've done. For as long as I live, I'll never stop fighting them. No matter what it takes."
The master nodded. "You deprive yourself of many of the desires of life—family, companionship, love—in exchange for a greater focus on your task. To sacrifice worldly desire is a good thing, young one. But what of your anger? Save for not killing, you are unwilling to let it go."
"I forge my anger into a weapon. I turn it away from the innocent and focus on the corrupt."
"But you cannot turn it away from yourself. You will always be the true victim of your anger, far more than any adversary."
"...I don't care. I'll do it anyway. My life is less important than my mission."
The master stood silently for a long moment.
"Very well. Rest, young one. We have much to teach you in the morning."
"...I need to check on something first."
Bruce stood in the snow-covered, empty remains of the assassins' camp. The main building had been burnt to the ground, leaving nothing more than a charred pile of ash and metal. Talia was nowhere in sight. Bruce was momentarily concerned. Did something go wrong? Did Talia die here?
Bruce turned and walked back toward Nanda Parbat. He stopped, however, when he saw a set of snowmobile tracks headed away from the camp and out of the mountains. So she made it, Bruce thought. Wherever she is, she's better off now. Free from her father's madness.
Bruce ran through the tunnel, steeling himself against what he knew would be a massacre. But as he passed through the opening, he saw something entirely different. A few bodies of monks lay on the ground, but dozens more were very much alive.
The hundred-or-so assassins sprayed a hail of bullets in every direction, but the monks dodged, flipped, and spun through the air, dancing around them in every which direction. One assassin reached forward and grabbed a monk's robe; the monk merely twirled around and shoved his palm into the assassin's chest, sending the assassin flying backwards a full fifty feet before landing on the ground, unconscious. Another monk used a staff to knock away three assassins at once, as though he were swatting flies out of the air.
Bruce was astonished, but still concerned. Where was Ra's?
The temple doors were flung open. There.
Bruce entered the temple with no interference from either the assassins or the monks. They were too busy with each other, and Bruce suspected the monks knew Bruce wasn't a threat.
Ra's stood at the altar, reaching for the treasures that lay upon it. Before he or Bruce could even see what had happened, the master suddenly stood on the other side of the altar.
"So," the master said, "you return to steal from this temple. This cannot be allowed."
Ra's laughed.
The master narrowed his eyes. "One should not laugh in the face of his elders, young one."
Ra's glared into the old eyes of the master and grinned. "You are not my elder. And I did not come here to steal from the altar; I came to break it!"
Ra's kicked the altar, sending a large blue glass orb tumbling onto the floor.
The master gasped and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Bruce heard the sounds of battle behind him fade. The monks had lost consciousness as well.
"RA'S!" Bruce yelled across the temple.
Ra's turned around in angered surprise. "Should I ask how you escaped, young detective? Did you overpower my daughter, or did you seduce her in my absence?"
"What did you do?!"
"Do you not know what this place truly is? It stands upon a nexus of energy, the intersection of lines of power that run across the earth. This altar focuses that energy and gives this place its mystical nature."
Bruce understood. That was why time moved more slowly here.
"So you just removed the altar's keystone."
"Yes," Ra's replied, picking up the orb. "These monks have long lived on borrowed time. Their lives are now tuned to to its power. Without it, their life force ceases to exist."
"So you came all this way just to kill some monks?"
"No, I came here for that's beneath. I told you that lines of energy intersect here; the earth underneath this temple is the source of immense power. The kind of power that no amount of wealth or force can grant. True power."
Bruce glanced at the master's still body. "The power of life and death."
Ra's grinned. "Precisely, detective."
Bruce heard the commotion of assassins running towards the temple doors. He half-turned towards the door, kicked it closed, then jammed it shut with a knife.
Ra's was somewhere between surprised and impressed. "Do you intend to try to stop me?"
"You're damned right."
Ra's laughed. "Very well, boy."
Bruce ran forward while Ra's steadied himself. Bruce threw a flurry of precise jabs and kicks, but Ra's merely dodged them, all while holding the orb in his left hand. Ra's kicked Bruce to the floor, then threw the orb to the ground with his full strength. It hit the hard wood with a loud thud, but didn't even crack.
"Well, then," Ra's said, "if I can't break the orb, I might as well toss it down the nearest bottomless ravine."
Ra's threw the orb onto an upper balcony in the room, then began climbing a long tapestry that hung from that level. Bruce grabbed a parallel tapestry and followed. They both landed on the second level at the same time, but Ra's quickly ducked into a nearby hallway. Bruce ran after him, around a corner and through an open window onto the roof of the temple.
Ra's stood at the edge of the roof, directly over the ravine. The wind gusted across the roof, filling the air with so much snow that it clouded Bruce and Ra's' visibility. Bruce ducked behind a nearby chimney and reached for the pouch on his belt.
"Hiding, are we, detective?" Ra's yelled over the wind. "Come now, face me!"
"Put the orb down safely, Ra's!" Bruce yelled back.
Ra's laughed. "Why? What use do you truly have for it? Think, boy! I have already told you what lies beneath this temple; why would you instead choose the monks? In all your time here, what have they actually taught you? What supposedly great knowledge have you learned?"
Ra's felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and glanced down to see a large shuriken—one of the League's designs—embedded in his thigh. Before he could look up, Bruce's foot hit his face, sending him off his feet.
Bruce picked up the orb and stood over Ra's.
"I learned to be quiet."
Ra's snarled at Bruce as he pulled the shuriken out of his leg and painfully stood up.
"Fine," said Ra's. "You want to face me? You want to match your strength against mine? I will oblige."
Bruce wrapped the orb gently in a scarf and put it aside, then set himself in a fighting stance.
Ra's ran at Bruce. Bruce turned to dodge, but Ra's caught him with a locked elbow and twisted Bruce around, throwing him ten feet across the roof. Bruce rolled and caught himself, jumping back up and sprinting forward. He threw a kick at Ra's head, but Ra's easily countered it with a jab of the knuckles into a nerve in Bruce's thigh. Bruce fell, halfway paralyzed by the blow. Ra's raised his foot to stomp on Bruce's throat, but Bruce rolled aside and struck Ra's on the back of his knee, sending Ra's toppling down.
Bruce struggled to his feet. He glanced at the bloodstain on Ra's' leg; it was getting bigger. Good. Ra's would be getting weaker now.
Ra's and Bruce threw a flurry of jabs and kicks at each other, causing little more than bruises. Bruce felt himself getting weaker, while Ra's only looked more menacing, the look in his eyes growing madder and more malicious like an ancient feral animal.
Ra's grabbed hold of Bruce, threw him into the roof with enough force to crack it, then jumped, ready to deliver a powerful kick. Bruce pushed himself through the pain and moved aside, barely missing Ra's foot as it punched a hole in the roof.
Ra's pinned Bruce down, grabbing the shuriken he'd tossed aside before and clasping it between his fingers. Bruce reached inside the hole in the roof, grabbed a broken piece of wood, and smashed it across Ra's face. Ra's recoiled for a moment, long enough for Bruce to grab the scarf holding the orb. Bruce rolled on his stomach, holding the orb inside the hole in the roof.
Ra's held Bruce down with his knee, shuriken in hand, ready for the killing blow. Bruce dropped the orb through the hole. With a loud glass-on-metal CLANG, the orb landed directly on its perch on the altar.
The air around them immediately stilled, and the snow seemed to clear.
Ra's looked over his shoulder to see the master, standing perfectly calm and still on the edge of the roof. Ra's growled, then ran for the master. The master neatly deflected Ra's momentum with a single sidestep and the tip of his finger. Ra's toppled over the edge, falling into the abyss.
All across Nanda Parbat, the monks stood up and fought back once again. The assassins, caught off guard, were defeated in seconds.
Bruce struggled to get up, but couldn't. The master closed his eyes and touched four points on Bruce's back. Suddenly Bruce realized he could stand up.
"What did you do?" he asked the master.
"Something you may learn, if you choose to stay."
"...I can stay?"
"Yes. We knew you did not attempt any deception. However, we wished to test what was in your heart." The master nodded towards the ravine. "Had you chosen to ally yourself with the assassins, you might share his fate."
Bruce walked to the edge and looked down. Ra's was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the bottom of the ravine.
"Why did you tell me you sought power and vengeance when you first arrived?" the master asked. "I have seen you seek nothing but the opposite."
Bruce sighed. "I don't want to be a murderer. But I do want people—criminals, thieves, murderers—to pay for what they've done. For as long as I live, I'll never stop fighting them. No matter what it takes."
The master nodded. "You deprive yourself of many of the desires of life—family, companionship, love—in exchange for a greater focus on your task. To sacrifice worldly desire is a good thing, young one. But what of your anger? Save for not killing, you are unwilling to let it go."
"I forge my anger into a weapon. I turn it away from the innocent and focus on the corrupt."
"But you cannot turn it away from yourself. You will always be the true victim of your anger, far more than any adversary."
"...I don't care. I'll do it anyway. My life is less important than my mission."
The master stood silently for a long moment.
"Very well. Rest, young one. We have much to teach you in the morning."
"...I need to check on something first."
Bruce stood in the snow-covered, empty remains of the assassins' camp. The main building had been burnt to the ground, leaving nothing more than a charred pile of ash and metal. Talia was nowhere in sight. Bruce was momentarily concerned. Did something go wrong? Did Talia die here?
Bruce turned and walked back toward Nanda Parbat. He stopped, however, when he saw a set of snowmobile tracks headed away from the camp and out of the mountains. So she made it, Bruce thought. Wherever she is, she's better off now. Free from her father's madness.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Betrayal
Bruce was tied to a chair in the control room. Talia watched over him from across the room, her arms crossed.
They were alone in the room; Ra's and his army had left for Nanda Parbat, leaving only a few men at the base. Bruce didn't want to even think about the slaughter that was taking place.
"Why, Talia?"
"Why what?"
"Why kill?"
"Don't be so naive. Do you really think the world can change without the death of evil men?"
"I believe men can change for the better."
"All of them?"
"...Maybe not all. But some. The others can rot in prison. But they don't have to die."
"Why not, Bruce? Why not? Your parents were killed, were they not? Would you hesitate to kill the man who killed your parents?"
"...I wouldn't kill him, no."
"You wouldn't want vengeance for your parents?"
"Of course I want it. But if I killed him, I'd be no better than he."
"Oh, spare me the philosophy! Would the world not be a safer place without him in it? Why not execute every rapist and serial murderer in your accursed city?!"
"Because every one of them might have a family, like I did. Like you did. Killing them all would only create more empty homes, and ruin those mens' chances for redemption."
"And what if your justice system judges those men guilty and executes them?"
"That's the prerogative of the law. We elect representatives to help decide what justice is."
"Is every judge unbiased? Is every jury? There are things the law cannot do. You yourself know this. Your parents' killer was never caught, correct? My father told me you came to this place seeking vengeance for them. If the law is so perfect, why is your journey necessary?"
"There are flaws in the system, like any system. But it's better than wholesale slaughter. I seek justice above and beyond what the law is capable of doing, yes. But not through murder."
Talia shook her head. "I can't imagine you're upset that Deadshot was 'murdered.' He even escaped that supposedly-inescapable prison they put him in the first time."
"...I'll admit, I'm not sorry he's gone. But that doesn't give you the right to execute him. What right have you over the life and death of others?"
"You don't understand, Bruce. My father and I... our league... we have no country. No home to go to. We hold no allegiance to any laws of any country. And we will kill those who are evil."
Bruce noticed Talia's voice quiver slightly over her last few words.
"Talia, if your father says he only wants to kill those who are evil in his quest, then why is he killing the monks out there right now?"
Talia didn't respond for a long moment. Bruce saw doubt and sadness creep into her face.
"My father... says that the monks are impeding his progress in his quest. That they stand in the way of knowledge."
"The monks of Nanda Parbat are the most peaceful people in the entire world. They hold no malice whatsoever. And your father is going to kill them... for what? Some vague great knowledge?"
Tears welled in Talia's eyes. Bruce had seen tears like that only once before, once when his mother visited dying veterans in one of their family's hospitals.
"You don't like killing, do you?"
"...I care not if I kill those who deserve it."
"But the people that don't... the people your father steps on in his quest for personal gain..."
Talia looked into Bruce's eyes for a moment. She wasn't sure she could trust him. There was no one in the world she trusted with her inner thoughts. Not any of Ra's' men, not Ubu... not even her father.
She relented. "I love my father," she said, her voice trembling. "...But I do not share his apathy for innocent blood. He claims that... that it is necessary. That every life we take in our quest is justified by the righteousness of our cause."
"But you don't believe that."
"...I... no. I do not."
Bruce recognized the look on her face.
"Because of your mother?"
Talia looked up, surprised at first. But of course Bruce would understand this, she realized.
"Yes. My mother was a selfless woman who cared for my father despite his harshness. She loved me and raised me when my father was too busy at war or planning the next battle. She never deserved to die. Not even if her death had been 'necessary' for the cause... she would never have deserved to die."
"Then stop your father. Help end this madness."
"...I cannot. I may not agree with him, but... I love him. I could never fight him."
"Then let me."
Talia wiped the tears from her face, walked across the room, and cut Bruce's ropes.
"Go," she said, turning to the computers. "I will divert the troops still in the base away while you head for the temple. The armory is on the way; make use of it."
Bruce put his hand on Talia's shoulder.
"Thank you."
Talia nodded, doing her best to retain her resolve and ignore her betrayal.
"Hurry."
They were alone in the room; Ra's and his army had left for Nanda Parbat, leaving only a few men at the base. Bruce didn't want to even think about the slaughter that was taking place.
"Why, Talia?"
"Why what?"
"Why kill?"
"Don't be so naive. Do you really think the world can change without the death of evil men?"
"I believe men can change for the better."
"All of them?"
"...Maybe not all. But some. The others can rot in prison. But they don't have to die."
"Why not, Bruce? Why not? Your parents were killed, were they not? Would you hesitate to kill the man who killed your parents?"
"...I wouldn't kill him, no."
"You wouldn't want vengeance for your parents?"
"Of course I want it. But if I killed him, I'd be no better than he."
"Oh, spare me the philosophy! Would the world not be a safer place without him in it? Why not execute every rapist and serial murderer in your accursed city?!"
"Because every one of them might have a family, like I did. Like you did. Killing them all would only create more empty homes, and ruin those mens' chances for redemption."
"And what if your justice system judges those men guilty and executes them?"
"That's the prerogative of the law. We elect representatives to help decide what justice is."
"Is every judge unbiased? Is every jury? There are things the law cannot do. You yourself know this. Your parents' killer was never caught, correct? My father told me you came to this place seeking vengeance for them. If the law is so perfect, why is your journey necessary?"
"There are flaws in the system, like any system. But it's better than wholesale slaughter. I seek justice above and beyond what the law is capable of doing, yes. But not through murder."
Talia shook her head. "I can't imagine you're upset that Deadshot was 'murdered.' He even escaped that supposedly-inescapable prison they put him in the first time."
"...I'll admit, I'm not sorry he's gone. But that doesn't give you the right to execute him. What right have you over the life and death of others?"
"You don't understand, Bruce. My father and I... our league... we have no country. No home to go to. We hold no allegiance to any laws of any country. And we will kill those who are evil."
Bruce noticed Talia's voice quiver slightly over her last few words.
"Talia, if your father says he only wants to kill those who are evil in his quest, then why is he killing the monks out there right now?"
Talia didn't respond for a long moment. Bruce saw doubt and sadness creep into her face.
"My father... says that the monks are impeding his progress in his quest. That they stand in the way of knowledge."
"The monks of Nanda Parbat are the most peaceful people in the entire world. They hold no malice whatsoever. And your father is going to kill them... for what? Some vague great knowledge?"
Tears welled in Talia's eyes. Bruce had seen tears like that only once before, once when his mother visited dying veterans in one of their family's hospitals.
"You don't like killing, do you?"
"...I care not if I kill those who deserve it."
"But the people that don't... the people your father steps on in his quest for personal gain..."
Talia looked into Bruce's eyes for a moment. She wasn't sure she could trust him. There was no one in the world she trusted with her inner thoughts. Not any of Ra's' men, not Ubu... not even her father.
She relented. "I love my father," she said, her voice trembling. "...But I do not share his apathy for innocent blood. He claims that... that it is necessary. That every life we take in our quest is justified by the righteousness of our cause."
"But you don't believe that."
"...I... no. I do not."
Bruce recognized the look on her face.
"Because of your mother?"
Talia looked up, surprised at first. But of course Bruce would understand this, she realized.
"Yes. My mother was a selfless woman who cared for my father despite his harshness. She loved me and raised me when my father was too busy at war or planning the next battle. She never deserved to die. Not even if her death had been 'necessary' for the cause... she would never have deserved to die."
"Then stop your father. Help end this madness."
"...I cannot. I may not agree with him, but... I love him. I could never fight him."
"Then let me."
Talia wiped the tears from her face, walked across the room, and cut Bruce's ropes.
"Go," she said, turning to the computers. "I will divert the troops still in the base away while you head for the temple. The armory is on the way; make use of it."
Bruce put his hand on Talia's shoulder.
"Thank you."
Talia nodded, doing her best to retain her resolve and ignore her betrayal.
"Hurry."
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Detective
Bruce lay in his bed, turning over everything in his mind.
Ra's claimed to be a man seeking knowledge in order to peacefully aid mankind toward advancement. He also claimed that he was here in the mountains because Nanda Parbat was the source of powerful knowledge. Both Bruce and Ra's had been accused of trying to steal from the temple. Bruce knew he hadn't stolen anything, but Ra's had already lied to Bruce once before. And Bruce doubted that the monks would have made up that story or been mistaken.
There was another thing. Ra's said that the men under his command were simply there to help the cause, but they were obviously under a military structure. Ra's said that they were largely there as a security force, and considering Talia's story about the attack that killed her mother... it could be true. If Bruce could have hired a small army to protect his parents, he would have. But... no. These men weren't prepared for an outside attack. The base wasn't laid out in any defensive pattern, nor was there anything resembling a radar dish to watch for an aerial assault. And even more disturbing, who would attack the camp here in the Himalayas? In the African desert, where water is scarce and tribes can be violent, sure, but here? Who on Earth would have the resources to do that? What kind of enemies did Ra's—a supposed humanitarian—have that were so dangerous?
Bruce got up and left his room. In the few weeks he'd spent at the temple, he'd learned almost nothing that he'd consider practical, but he did learn quite a bit about spiritual and physical balance. The monks were insistent upon total silence unless necessary—especially in the temple walls—so Bruce quickly learned how to walk silently. As he carefully stepped through the dark hallway, his footsteps less audible than a whisper, he heard Ra's' bedroom door open. Bruce quickly ducked behind a corner, using the warped reflection of a nearby vase to see down the hallway. Ra's stepped out of his room, wrapped in a green cape. Bruce risked a glance around the corner. Ra's stood taller and prouder than before, his hair and his beard well-groomed. His hair, at a certain angle, almost seemed shaped into horns. His cape was a dark emerald, with golden lines of Arabic text woven into the edges. A large curved sword was sheathed on his belt, which was covered by an elaborate sash. He might have seemed kingly to some. Bruce knew, however, that all it meant was that Ra's believed himself a king.
Ra's said something quietly to Ubu at his side, then left out the main door. Bruce quickly went to Ra's' door, checked to make sure it wasn't rigged with an alarm, then quickly stepped inside. The room was definitely laid out for royalty. Golden artifacts from a dozen ancient civilizations were arranged across the room, almost like an Egyptian tomb. Bookshelves lined one wall. Bruce glanced at them and almost instinctively recoiled. They were books of alchemical black magic. Some were simple scientific research on mystical rituals from around the world, but some of them seemed to be legitimate tomes of dark mysticism.
The closet door had a keypad on it. Bruce typed in "TALIA." Nothing happened. Bruce went to the bookshelf and pulled out a book of ancient Arabic translations. He looked up "Ra's." Arabic translation: "رأس." Literal meaning: "head." That figured. Bruce guessed that it was likely a name Ra's chose for himself, rather than one he was given. Next, Bruce translated "Al Ghul." Arabic translation: "الغول." Literal meaning: ...Bruce nearly felt a shiver reading it. He went back to the keypad and entered the full translation:
"THE DEMONS HEAD"
The door slid open.
It was a dark room filled with computer displays, maps, and a large illuminated glass table. Bruce went to the nearest computer and looked through its system. It was a database, apparently, filled with folders named for events organized by date and geography. Bruce was shocked when he glanced at the current date on the system: March fifth. That wasn't possible. He looked at every other computer and saw the same thing. Bruce had arrived at the temple on March third and spent over five weeks there. It should be April seventh. Either every clock in this incredibly advanced base was somehow off by a month, or something truly bizarre affected the passage of time in Nanda Parbat.
Bruce opened one folder on the computer named "STRYKER'S ISLAND 23-11-09." A video file was inside; Bruce accessed it.
The video showed a darkened prison cell, with Floyd Lawton, Deadshot, strapped to it. A lone young woman stood before him—it was Talia.
"You failed, Lawton," she said.
"Yeah, sue me." Lawton flippantly replied.
"It's a shame, really. Had you succeeded, you might have been on your way to one day joining us."
"Joining? Who, Luthorcorp? Yeah, I 'aint the businessman type. Look, are you done? Are you gonna get me out of here, or what?"
"I speak not of Luthorcorp."
"Wait, what...? Aw, seriously? You're upset over that job? Come on; that was a stupid plan anyway! I mean, why'd you need—"
"My father's designs are not to be questioned, least of all by you. Your assignment was merely a small part in his grand plan."
"Huh. Okay. Well, little girl, you go tell your daddy I'm sorry, and that I'll do better next time."
Talia didn't blink.
"The League of Assassins does not allow failure, Floyd Lawton."
Talia reached behind her back, slowly pulling a short sword from its sheath. With a single swift motion, she stepped forward and stabbed, slipping the blade gently into Floyd's heart. She then stepped back, wiped her blade, and sheathed it.
"Apparently you are quite the detective," a voice said from behind Bruce. It was Ra's.
"And you're the head of a league of assassins," Bruce said as he turned around.
Talia stood behind Ra's, her stance firm as if to support her father, but her face slightly dismayed.
"Yes," said Ra's, "it was unfortunately necessary for me to hide the truth from you. My League is indeed often known—whenever it is known at all—as the League of Shadows, for many do not appreciate the fact that for the world to truly rise above its state of dismay, many must die. There are few who truly know its real name, the League of Assassins."
"I've heard of the League of Assassins before," Bruce said. "There've been whispers about you in Gotham for decades. I ran into some of your people once—the hooked ones."
Ra's almost sneered. "Those imbeciles were not my men! That pathetic hooked assassin's guild was made of mere pretenders. Children playing at a master's game. They were defeated by the local police, were they not? No, my league is made of only the finest; those who truly understand the art of death."
"Like Deadshot?"
"An unfortunate and rare error in judgment on my part. He was never truly part of the league; we used him to unbalance the scales of economic power."
Bruce caught on instantly. "You wanted him to kill all of us at Excelsior. Me, Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor..."
"Yes, in fact, I did. You underestimate the true power you wield with merely your family name. The Wayne and Luthor names notably have great influence in America."
"And without heirs to either company, you figured you could slip in and control a huge chunk of American industry, and have easy access to the best medical, biological, and weapons technology in the world."
Ra's grinned. "Once again I must credit you, detective. You truly are a remarkable young man. But I must leave you now; I have an invasion scheduled for tonight."
Bruce had feared this, but hoped he was wrong. Ra's had indeed tried to steal from Nanda Parbat under the false guise of a humble student, and now that he'd failed, he was going to use a small army to invade the temple, armed to the teeth with every modern firearm known to man. The monks were all going to die.
Ra's claimed to be a man seeking knowledge in order to peacefully aid mankind toward advancement. He also claimed that he was here in the mountains because Nanda Parbat was the source of powerful knowledge. Both Bruce and Ra's had been accused of trying to steal from the temple. Bruce knew he hadn't stolen anything, but Ra's had already lied to Bruce once before. And Bruce doubted that the monks would have made up that story or been mistaken.
There was another thing. Ra's said that the men under his command were simply there to help the cause, but they were obviously under a military structure. Ra's said that they were largely there as a security force, and considering Talia's story about the attack that killed her mother... it could be true. If Bruce could have hired a small army to protect his parents, he would have. But... no. These men weren't prepared for an outside attack. The base wasn't laid out in any defensive pattern, nor was there anything resembling a radar dish to watch for an aerial assault. And even more disturbing, who would attack the camp here in the Himalayas? In the African desert, where water is scarce and tribes can be violent, sure, but here? Who on Earth would have the resources to do that? What kind of enemies did Ra's—a supposed humanitarian—have that were so dangerous?
Bruce got up and left his room. In the few weeks he'd spent at the temple, he'd learned almost nothing that he'd consider practical, but he did learn quite a bit about spiritual and physical balance. The monks were insistent upon total silence unless necessary—especially in the temple walls—so Bruce quickly learned how to walk silently. As he carefully stepped through the dark hallway, his footsteps less audible than a whisper, he heard Ra's' bedroom door open. Bruce quickly ducked behind a corner, using the warped reflection of a nearby vase to see down the hallway. Ra's stepped out of his room, wrapped in a green cape. Bruce risked a glance around the corner. Ra's stood taller and prouder than before, his hair and his beard well-groomed. His hair, at a certain angle, almost seemed shaped into horns. His cape was a dark emerald, with golden lines of Arabic text woven into the edges. A large curved sword was sheathed on his belt, which was covered by an elaborate sash. He might have seemed kingly to some. Bruce knew, however, that all it meant was that Ra's believed himself a king.
Ra's said something quietly to Ubu at his side, then left out the main door. Bruce quickly went to Ra's' door, checked to make sure it wasn't rigged with an alarm, then quickly stepped inside. The room was definitely laid out for royalty. Golden artifacts from a dozen ancient civilizations were arranged across the room, almost like an Egyptian tomb. Bookshelves lined one wall. Bruce glanced at them and almost instinctively recoiled. They were books of alchemical black magic. Some were simple scientific research on mystical rituals from around the world, but some of them seemed to be legitimate tomes of dark mysticism.
The closet door had a keypad on it. Bruce typed in "TALIA." Nothing happened. Bruce went to the bookshelf and pulled out a book of ancient Arabic translations. He looked up "Ra's." Arabic translation: "رأس." Literal meaning: "head." That figured. Bruce guessed that it was likely a name Ra's chose for himself, rather than one he was given. Next, Bruce translated "Al Ghul." Arabic translation: "الغول." Literal meaning: ...Bruce nearly felt a shiver reading it. He went back to the keypad and entered the full translation:
"THE DEMONS HEAD"
The door slid open.
It was a dark room filled with computer displays, maps, and a large illuminated glass table. Bruce went to the nearest computer and looked through its system. It was a database, apparently, filled with folders named for events organized by date and geography. Bruce was shocked when he glanced at the current date on the system: March fifth. That wasn't possible. He looked at every other computer and saw the same thing. Bruce had arrived at the temple on March third and spent over five weeks there. It should be April seventh. Either every clock in this incredibly advanced base was somehow off by a month, or something truly bizarre affected the passage of time in Nanda Parbat.
Bruce opened one folder on the computer named "STRYKER'S ISLAND 23-11-09." A video file was inside; Bruce accessed it.
The video showed a darkened prison cell, with Floyd Lawton, Deadshot, strapped to it. A lone young woman stood before him—it was Talia.
"You failed, Lawton," she said.
"Yeah, sue me." Lawton flippantly replied.
"It's a shame, really. Had you succeeded, you might have been on your way to one day joining us."
"Joining? Who, Luthorcorp? Yeah, I 'aint the businessman type. Look, are you done? Are you gonna get me out of here, or what?"
"I speak not of Luthorcorp."
"Wait, what...? Aw, seriously? You're upset over that job? Come on; that was a stupid plan anyway! I mean, why'd you need—"
"My father's designs are not to be questioned, least of all by you. Your assignment was merely a small part in his grand plan."
"Huh. Okay. Well, little girl, you go tell your daddy I'm sorry, and that I'll do better next time."
Talia didn't blink.
"The League of Assassins does not allow failure, Floyd Lawton."
Talia reached behind her back, slowly pulling a short sword from its sheath. With a single swift motion, she stepped forward and stabbed, slipping the blade gently into Floyd's heart. She then stepped back, wiped her blade, and sheathed it.
"Apparently you are quite the detective," a voice said from behind Bruce. It was Ra's.
"And you're the head of a league of assassins," Bruce said as he turned around.
Talia stood behind Ra's, her stance firm as if to support her father, but her face slightly dismayed.
"Yes," said Ra's, "it was unfortunately necessary for me to hide the truth from you. My League is indeed often known—whenever it is known at all—as the League of Shadows, for many do not appreciate the fact that for the world to truly rise above its state of dismay, many must die. There are few who truly know its real name, the League of Assassins."
"I've heard of the League of Assassins before," Bruce said. "There've been whispers about you in Gotham for decades. I ran into some of your people once—the hooked ones."
Ra's almost sneered. "Those imbeciles were not my men! That pathetic hooked assassin's guild was made of mere pretenders. Children playing at a master's game. They were defeated by the local police, were they not? No, my league is made of only the finest; those who truly understand the art of death."
"Like Deadshot?"
"An unfortunate and rare error in judgment on my part. He was never truly part of the league; we used him to unbalance the scales of economic power."
Bruce caught on instantly. "You wanted him to kill all of us at Excelsior. Me, Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor..."
"Yes, in fact, I did. You underestimate the true power you wield with merely your family name. The Wayne and Luthor names notably have great influence in America."
"And without heirs to either company, you figured you could slip in and control a huge chunk of American industry, and have easy access to the best medical, biological, and weapons technology in the world."
Ra's grinned. "Once again I must credit you, detective. You truly are a remarkable young man. But I must leave you now; I have an invasion scheduled for tonight."
Bruce had feared this, but hoped he was wrong. Ra's had indeed tried to steal from Nanda Parbat under the false guise of a humble student, and now that he'd failed, he was going to use a small army to invade the temple, armed to the teeth with every modern firearm known to man. The monks were all going to die.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)