When Worlds Collide [Lex, Open!]

[Deleted]

FLASH!

CLINK!

“Oooh! Ahhh!”

“Hahahahaha!”

“Over here, Mr. Wayne! Give us a smile! Perfect!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, say cheese! Lovely!”

“Good god, did you see what she’s wearing? Is it a dress or vomit?”

“Miss Lyon! Miss Lyon, over here!”

“Where the hell is the waiter? I wanted fresh burst caviar finest BLACK, not burst fresh nicest caviar RED! Incompetence!”

A cacophonous symphony of all-too familiar gala party posh-themed noise swirled around Bruce as he masterfully played his part as the Son of Gotham, a fun-loving, philanthropist, playboy multi-billionaire. This particular schmooze event filled with blue bloods, nouveau riche, and anyone who could claim that their bank account and trust fund ended in the sound of, “-ilion” (pronounced: “ill-yon”, as in million or more) was one of frivolous name dropping and net worth flashing. There was some sort of charity cause that was of course the reason for the star studded get together for the rich and famous – just to show a point for some sake of purpose for all that money to be in one place at one time.

But really?

This little extravagant soirée of sorts was more so about flaunting one’s power and wealth and who was who in the upper class rein of Gotham. In truth? Bruce loathed these events – as always, but always heavily donated to whatever good cause he chose to associate WE with. It was essential he attend such superficial events however. It helped to keep his image fresh in the Gazette as Gotham’s Beloved Billionaire Playboy, as well as helped to give him another secretive insider angle when it came to digging up information and keeping tabs on Gotham’s upper crest. So ironic to be coined a “play boy” by the media when Bruce was truly the complete antithesis to everything that the very definition of “play” stood for.

Sure. The 6’2”, 195lbs., black haired, blue eyed, clean shaven, pale skinned, tightly muscular with a powerful yet lean physique, the handsome 33-year-old, multi-billionaire bachelor seemed more than at ease and unquestionably playful at this luncheon gala event spritzing up the party scene skyscraper rooftop style located in downtown Gotham. Dressed to the nines in a Versace men’s fashion suit – sheen black and charcoal grey, Bruce Wayne was just as eye catching as ever to the clusters of shutterbug paparazzi buzzing about the elegant affair this rather gloomy midday afternoon in Gotham.

Despite being one of the favored targets for the flashing cameras and peering eyes, no one happened to catch onto the fact that flue of champagne swirling about Bruce’s crystal glass was nothing more than sparkling cider. No one even remotely close to being aware of Bruce’s meticulous crowd scanning and silent mental logging of inventory he would take of the guests, the activities, the topics of surrounding conversations – all done while partaking in seemingly whimsical chatter and playful banter with those in his circle around him. He was keeping an especially keen eye out for one individual in particular… This individual being the foremost reason for Bruce to attend this silly event to begin with. Lex Luthor. He was banking on Luthor making an appearance to this gala luncheon today – it was too much of an ego boost to miss out on. After all, anyone who was anyone in Gotham would be here! Who wouldn’t want the chance to show off the massive size of how big their… ba-…aaaaank account was, right?

An indulgent chuckle was given in response to the end of some pointlessly drab story from some socialite Bruce had the displeasure to suddenly become trapped beside. He was truly a master of disguise and ruled this realm of deception with perfection. After all, he had been playing the part of Bruce Wayne flawlessly ever since the tender, fateful age of eight… All those years ago.

Now… Where was Lex?



(Preview of Bruce's suit in pic below...)

[Deleted]

"I feel that the star studded gala has had a long and well outlined tradition in philanthropy, Mr. Knox, and frankly I blame you for it personally." Lex Luthor smiled waving his finger at the reporter from the Gotham Globe, "Western culture is a culture of celebrity, and while I've never been too fond of the celebrity philanthropist, it's hard to believe, I know. Lex Luthor, avoiding the limelight, but I miss the days when I could be just a garage tinkerer or the silent partner donating money because it was the right thing to do. Money is important, money is vital, but sometimes the message is just as important as the money, and coming here today I have the opportunity to not only put my wallet behind a good cause, but also my name and influence. People gather together through virtue signaling, and not only does my money go to a good cause, but perhaps others are inspired to do the same." 

"It's a nice thought, Lex, but I suppose the real question is this: Who you wearing?"

Lex Luthor laughed a bit, a very genuine bit of amusement at the sheer banality of the question. "This is me, Mr. Knox. I'm wearing myself, custom made, testing new materials for fashion. If it becomes popular, who knows. Perhaps you'll start seeing a full consumer line in stores by the end of the year. Still, there are some benefits to the outfit." He reached over at one of the platters of wine that came up, pouring it over his suit. It rolled off like water off a duck's back, beading and falling to the ground without leaving a single mark or disturbing the suit at all.

The cameras lapped it up, Lex the Showman. He smiled as he said "So hopefully you enjoy the night and we can put our mind to helping bring awareness to the issue at hand. The people of this city deserve no better, and while I'm not a native Gothamite, I can't help but hope that I might be able to do my part to help." 

He smiled at his date for a moment, and indeed, she was beautiful, dressed well in his little gifts for her, the purple of it luxurious as it caught the light just so, the advantage of having access to bleeding edge technology as the world's leading technology based multinational was the ability to mold the tastes and dreams of the future. People wanted Magic. People wanted hope in a more comfortable future of progress, where tomorrow was better than yesterday. LexCorp gave it them, packaging the dream that no one knew they wanted yet, and selling it piecemeal. Step forward into the future with LexCorp. LexCorp: For a Better Tomorrow. Flash and substance.

But then again, Lex wasn't lying to the reporter. Why would he? He hated these events, and part of him would much rather be down in his workshop or pushing forward one of his initiatives. But then again, he'd seen what the world did to solitary geniuses. The mask he wore helped mold him into legend, into an idea. Something larger than life, the Man of Tomorrow. And so he engaged in the flash and showmanship, played his ego to the hilt, became the easy symbol of the modern industrialist, the self made man of tomorrow, the smartest man in the world, the Magician of Metropolis, The Plebeian Patrician who got to where he was through strength of will and talent and asked permission from no one to seize power. 

He had to be here, it was necessary. If one wasn't to be a playing piece one must be a player in the game, and these stupid soirees of trust fund inheritors and pedantic one percenters was where social power flowed from and to. It was easy to resent a man such as Lex Luthor, powerful, wealthy, insufferable, arrogant. It was easier still to fear him, and that was important. Here he made it clear through flash and talent and the arts of misdirection and theatricality that he was power, and it was a power that came only from himself. Those nearby could share in his dream, but he was a steamroller of inevitability, confident with an easy joke. He was an interloper among the worlds of old money, a peasant from the suicide slums with delusions of grandeur. They'd see him crushed if they could. After all, the only legitimacy that Lex Luthor had was that he'd crush anyone who thought to cross him, thoroughly, completely, in such a way that their names would be synonymous with irrelevance. He was a new face in the world of ancient dynasties and trust funds and conspiracies and alliances. The Waynes and the Keans and the Elliotts and the Kyles and the Arkhams and so on and so forth. He had no history but his own, no power but that which he seized and crafted and maintained through certainty. But he was also the new reality, and could be ignored only at risk and assaulted only by the suicidal. Who cared about yesterday when you were The Man of Tomorrrow?

Every inch of him radiated power and certainty, 6'2, piercing and hypnotic green eyes and stark bald head that was almost as much a part of the symbolism of the man as his name. He was a beast, nearly 200lbs, well in shape despite the slight paunch around his stomach that was well covered with tailored suits, but with strong arms and legs and firm muscles trained for strength and flexibility. He wore black, a tuxedo that was custom made, and just like everything else about him, it hid secrets. He burgeoned with a confidence that straddled seriousness and detached amusement, mastery of the surroundings, as if everything he saw was visionary and he was just so happy to make his vision a reality. 

He was there, speaking out and standing there to give legitimacy to this whole little luncheon, and that was in some ways vitally important. Like the Pope crowning Charlemagne, by becoming a source of power to the continued legitimacy of the old dynasties, Lex Luthor placed himself solidly in that firmament, and these insipid and selfish parasites would not be so quick to tear down that which they didn't understand, they'd pause at the thought of destroying and stealing from mankind the discoveries of Lex Luthor and his people. They'd hesitate . . . not out of charity, but because they had no choice in the matter. Lex Luthor hated the necessity of these parlor tricks, to play the game of flash and posturing, but it was necessary, and Lex Luthor understood that. So he told a joke, he made a speech, he threw his money and he dazzled people with a dream of Tomorrow, of success through hard work and talent, and he offered to bring everyone along with him. 

But he had his reasons for being here as well, in addition to the postured portrayal of power and philanthropy, it was inevitable, he'd been coming to these events long enough and he'd been putting things off long enough. He put a hand on the shoulder of the socialite who had approached him to share a story of some sort, shaking the man's hand and staring into his eyes. He thanked the man, genuinely for approaching, for finally having the chance to meet, and how wonderful his family's work was. It stopped the story and made the man blush a bit, as he tried to think of something more interesting to say. 

He was truly a master of his craft and ruled this realm of power and personality with perfection. After all, he had been developing the Legend of Lex Luthor ever since the tender age of eleven. . .All those years ago

[Deleted]

"I recently flew back in from Afghanistan from a presentation." Cameron Cleer responded to the question from the reporter. "Armor demonstration. With our new product, we should be able to reduce soldier carry weight by twenty pounds while increasing protection. Modern Kevlar can only withstand a few shots before needing replaced. As you can imagine, this gets costly for the government, and it puts our troops in the field at risk. With our new armor, it should eliminate that issue, as our body armor can be produced for a tenth of the cost and lasts two years longer."

He smiled friendly and took a drink from his glass, "I'm afraid there isn't much more I can say on the subject. But if anyone would like to set up a more personal interview about our humanitarian efforts, please schedule an appointment with my assistant." Cameron politely walked away from the group. This wasn't his idea of a good time, it never was. When he was living with nothing, he thought wealth would bring him whatever he wanted, that he would finally be happy. All it brought was.. boredom. These people all seemed so shallow and skin deep. There were certainly some that posed interest, but most really only cared about a last name and who was sleeping with whom.

Cameron wore a black and white three piece that flattered his tall frame. Clothing had been one of the blessings money brought. He had always had trouble finding clothes that fit him well because of his height, but now it all came custom tailored. Cameron scanned the crowd, trying to decide who he should approach. He saw Bruce Wayne, one of the bigger fish. The prince of Gotham, orphaned, but he seemed to rise above it. To Cameron, Wayne was just another soul lost to the "old money" who only cared about last names and affairs.

But his eye did catch Lex Luthor. A non-gothamite who rose to his own power through his own genius. That was something Cameron could respect, at least. Self made men always tended to appreciate their position more. He made his way through the groups of people. He watched as the man of tomorrow held onto his date and poured wine over his own suit. Cameron watched with amusement as the liquid rolled off of his suit. "It repels the liquid's polarity on a molecular level?" He questioned and observed.

[Deleted]

But of course, Bruce Wayne – the Son of Gotham – was now beyond swarmed with paparazzi attention. How funny. With all the sudden judicial and respected changes in the works of Gotham (separating the functioning society of said elite city into a prosperous, advantageous, powerful growth among humanity’s standards versus its other half: a co-existing counter part of disease, corruption, and crime ridden way of life – infested with immoral values and sinful ethics driven to destroy humanity at its foundation – the idea of separating Gotham into two parts: Gotham City vs. Arkham City: Gotham City being: (power and prosperity) vs. Arkham City being: (arcane disorder and dissention into madness) – the idea of prosperous survival and wealth for all seemed like the preferred plan not just to multi-billionaire CEO Bruce Wayne, but to all his stock and shareholders.



Hence why his appearance was so crucial to behold at an event like this tonight – show his support for Gotham and his anti-support for a segregated part of land within his city that supported chaos, mayhem, and insanity – as if welcoming madness as a way of daily life. Sure enough, the Golden Son of Gotham answered this question from that reporter, flashed that smile for this photographer, but when it finally happened…? The crossing of gazes from one predator to another…? Then it was game on.



Finally Bruce had caught sight of the foreign entity who had invaded his home terf – the foreign intruder who had begun to make his purpose, his cause, his very namesake known in a city that had absolutely nothing to do with him. Lex Luthor. If ever there was a time where Bruce could actively wish upon Clark’s super human power to punch out a person – it’d be now; smashing Lex’s perfectly smiling face into the hottest abyss of the Milky Way’s sun. Sure enough, flashing lights kept on blasting him at every turn, smile, and blink he made – so handsome in his chic, dark, smooth suit – thick black hair combed back to perfection, chiseled jaw shaved to absolute smoothness, electrically sharp blue eyes flashing with promise and invitation.



Yet?



Somehow, Bruce managed to make his way over towards Gotham’s newest celebrity sharing said spotlight.



“Curiousty finally got the best of you, huh? All the hype going on about Gotham and Arkham City – had to check it out for yourself?”



Bruce FINALLY managed to ask – his tone clear and consice, despite the onslaught of whirring camera “clicks” and demanding paparazzi orders to “pose”. Steely stormed grey-blue eyes suddenly flashed to the unexpected arrival of the newest man making his presence known within Lex and Bruce’s vicinity. Bruce’s razor sharp raptor vision easily followed followed course of the new comer’s gaze – scanning acutely down the outline of said suit.



“Heh, finally!” Bruce would now rudely guffaw. “A suit that denies spills of any kind. Coulda’ saved me during then 11th grade…”



He endend in a self-entitled murmuer. His comments easily directed towards the newest addition of the one-on-one connection he had just forged between himself and Lex Luthor – that new addition being a well dressed, rather astute/keen young man of sorts -a man who held himself firmly, ridgidly, and cautiously. A detetective, no doubt. And if said young man was a detective in nature? Then Bruce’s haunch was on target… Lex Luthor was here in Gotham for a purpose that meant no good to anyone.



“They actually make stuff like that now?”



Playing young, dumb, and full of … Well – playing dumb was what allotted Bruce the freedom to become and be who he truly was – behind closed doors and darkest of nights… Being bushy tailed and starry eyed allowed Bruce Wayne to be his truest self in his most authentic form… Beneath the bullsh*t of whatever designer suit, whatever coolest fad to follow, whatever greatest thing to preach… Deep down? He was and always would be… The Batman.



Extending his hand out towards the professional newcomer asking about Lex’s suit molecular level, Bruce then spoke once again, “Bruce Wayne – nice to meet you. And you are…?”

[Deleted]

"Cleer" Lex Luthor had that strange tendency of letting the deep baritone of his voice lounge and roll in his throat, as if sampling a Bordeaux, it was a resonant sound that created an auditory equivalent of a cat playing with a mouse, a strange mix of joy and viciousness that could on a dime twist towards a solid polished mahogany presence, or perhaps even a progressive march, like the flow of a glacier or the progress of time. Lex Luthor's voice was one of his lesser spoken of assets, but one of his more important ones in this era of media blitzes and soundbite philosophy, and it was, of course, very consciously developed, practiced, shaped and modified, as exercised as any other part of his body: just another detail considered by a man famous for his insane levels of perfectionism. "Or is it van Cleer? I’ve never been sure if the families are related, you see. The van Cleer family has a long and interesting history in the Dutch Tulip Trade. Quite the entrepreneurial lineage, although I don’t put much stock in lineage."



Lex smiled slightly as he gestured towards his suit "Very astute either way, though. Yes, the material is made of a hydrophobic crystaline weave. Ironically, it also has some other interesting non-newtonian properties that will hopefully not need to be tested tonight.” He extends a hand and says “Lex Luthor, I understand that you’ve put in a bid for some of the new body armor contracts with the military. That’s good, our armor, unfortunately, is not exactly low cost, although we’ve been able to really get some new and interesting techniques involving metallic crystaline growth, based of course on the work of Dr. Magnus, we’ll see if anything comes from it.” He smiles at the man, politely. Yes, on another night he’d enjoy talking with the gentleman, but of course, the main attraction was here, and that required a little bit more careful attention.



Gotham City. Perhaps a sideshow on the Global stage for now, but desperately trying hard to push its way into the center of international importance. Developments taking place in the dark smoky halls of power here in the city were propelling the city into the position of fulcrum in the scale of human history, although whether or not that would actually happened would remain to be seen. There were certainly many interested parties in making Gotham City into the American Central Stage of the future, partly due to the fact that Lex Luthor had so firmly and completely taken his role as “Patrician” of Metropolis to its logical extent. Metropolis, despite the advertisements for the Man of Steel, was very much the purview and domain of the Man of Tomorrow. Lex Luthor was aware of the advertisements and the use of Superman as a selling point. Frankly, he’d secured the rights to market the image anyway, since Superman had never established any trademark claims for the symbols he so valliantly and thoroughly utilized on his chest and in other places. A Kryptonian symbol, he’d said. He’d not pursued protection of his claim, which gave a very weak and shaky opening for Lex Luthor to push the claim himself. A weak legal argument, but a significant one when the Clerk’s daughter went to a private school and the judge’s mother had cancer. LexCorp, ironically, turned a very healthy profit on Superman merchandise and symbolism, 100% of which went towards charity organizations, just to make it extra hard for the Man of Steel to complain, not that he seemed to notice or care. Aliens. Honestly, who could understand them?



But still, the reality was clear: Metropolis was off limits. Lex Luthor had secured it, and very little if anything happened in His City without his knowledge and influence. For a lesser man this might be a problem, but Lex Luthor was a very efficient custodian, solving the crime problem, the political problem and the economic problem in efficient, and very deniable and very thorough ways, allowing for the population to work their lives away in the construction of something greater, and to even share in the profits of it to build a better life for themselves. Partly that was pride on the part of Luthor, he did enjoy seeing his name dominate the skyline, yes. But then again, there was that undeniable little push of emotional sentiment that Luthor tried to keep hidden away. After all, an oligarch and plutocrat had an image to maintain, and a genuine bit of civic pride and love for one’s city did undermine that some, although it was an open secret to any who cared to think about it. Lex Luthor genuinely was fond of his home town, even though it had given him so little, it had shaped him into the man he was today, and there was a childhood staring up at the skyscrapers in hope from the bottom of the Suicide Slums that brought a touch of efficient and simple beauty to the eyes of the beaten and bloody boy. There had been those who had tried to use that love of his home as a lever against him. With few exceptions, they were now unremarkable, unmourned and unremembered. Luthor was thorough in all matters.



This, of course, left Gotham. Second largest city in North America, after only Metropolis. And as one could not think of Metropolis without knowing the name of Luthor, Gotham too had its patrician family: The Waynes. Gotham was Bruce Wayne’s city, although many would argue that he was a haphazard custodian. Luthor might be among those critics, although he felt that way for very different reasons than most. The reality was this, though. Gotham, because of the chaos in its streets, the corruption in its politics, the darkness in its very core and the lack of ruthlessness in its “patrician” was on a quick path to becoming very important for all the wrong reasons. Lex Luthor had his reasons to be in Gotham, and they were numerous and difficult to explain except to those who knew Luthor very well indeed. But he understood that to be in Gotham was to deal with the reality of Wayne. This was a meeting that was inevitable, as soon as Luthor started construction of his new building, expansion of his holdings, purchasing land and businesses in Gotham through proxies and workaround and even through direct bidding. Wayne Enterprises had stood against some, but even so, LexCorp Gotham had its foot firmly in the city now, and Lex Luthor was not in the habit of ceding territory unnecessarily. And so now, Bruce Wayne had decided to finally take notice and say hello.



Good.



This meeting had been expensive enough to set up,


"Mr. Wayne. It's good to finally meet you in person. This has been a long time in coming." 

He smiled at the Prince of Gotham, green eyes seeming to take in every detail of the man. Luthor was no detective, not in the traditional sense, Bruce could see that clearly. No, deep down inside Luthor was something not entirely different in motivation, but different in technique and focus. Luthor was a scientist, an engineer. In his mind he was already breaking down everything he could see into component parts, putting them back together in various ways. Soon he'd have his hypotheses, and then he'd begin to prod, to test, to begin the experiments. "Don't be too surprised that I'd come to Gotham, but I promise you, it's no mere curiosity. I'm here because it's the human thing to do. Gotham City is a city of forgotten tomorrows and old promises. We're both aware of that. Millions of people out of work, crime on the rise, the Arkham City proposal is just another symptom of that broken dream. I'm just here to try to fulfill a promise made in another time by other people to a desperate population. When you see a people bleeding in the streets, it's the human thing to do to try to extend a hand, to try to help." 

[Deleted]

Cameron smiled politely at the Prince of Gotham, watching his eyes. "I don't think anyone would hold it against you. I don't know many 11th graders who can hold their liquor in any fashion, really." He joked, but as he listened to Wayne talk more, he began to see the appeal. The man played the fool well enough, that was quite clear. Cameron knew most of the people at this party would write Bruce off as shallow, but it was his eyes that gave it away. It was nothing drawn out, quite the opposite. A quick glance and Cameron knew he was being sized up. It was the same look a con would give a mark or a cop would give... well anyone on first meeting. Cameron could only guess it was the secret to Wayne's success. He knew the man's company was still successful in the international scene despite Bruce's antics. Make no mistake, this was Sir Galahad disguised as Don Quixote.

"Cameron Cleer" He replied, shaking Bruce's hand, "And it's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Wayne."

Cameron's attention went to Luthor. The man radiated confidence and assurance. He clawed for the center of focus by the power of his voice. Or perhaps he was trying to keep Wayne from distracting Cameron, being mannerly. Either way, Cameron made note. He smiled warmly to Luthor, "Just Cleer. It was Van Cleer but a family feud sent my grandfather to America penniless. It's a long, boring story, I'm afraid. And I don't put much stock in lineage either. A man's personal success can be overshadowed a family's."

Cameron smiled as Luthor made gesture to his suit. He listened to the man's words, but watched his eyes. He could tell Luthor was being polite, but the real big fish, the reason Luthor was here was standing beside Cameron. Perhaps Luthor had picked up on the same vibe he had from Wayne, perhaps not. Either way, Cameron was beginning to get the feeling he'd stepped between two challenging males, and he was being offered an out. Which was both lucky and unfortunate. He had looked forward to this chance to meet Luthor, but there would be other times. Other galas. The same with Wayne, Cameron imagined. Which was fine by him. Better to be thought timid and inconsequential than to overplay his hand at this point in the game.

He shook Lex's hand, "Magnus has some interesting ideas." Cameron said neutrally, "I wish you luck. Well, not too much." He grinned and gave Luthor a friendly wink.

But as the Man of Tomorrow engaged with the Prince of Gotham, Cameron grew quiet, even moving back from the situation. In a moment, he would fake being called over somewhere, but for the immediate second he had to have front row seats to these two men.

[Deleted]

“Couldn’t agree with you more, Cameron. Sharing the lineage of your family’s name doesn’t make you impervious to the judgments and expectations society holds on you. You either end up surpassing the mark of greatness those in your family made before you, or you end up taking a dump all over everything your family stood for and cause irreparable damage. Or? You evolve and start your very own branch to build a family of your own on – of course, that route means giving up all of your old family privileges.”

Bruce shrugged. “Still, any way you dice it you only have yourself to hold accountable for your actions in life – with or without your family name.”

It wasn’t so much amusing as it was aggravating, having to be subjected into listening to one of Luthor’s ego-stroking trademark narcissistic prattles as response to Cameron Cleer’s apparent bloodline’s surname. Luthor certainly didn’t fail to disappoint when it came to being the human embodiment of the perfect storm: a dangerous mixture of intimidating sophistication, commanding arrogance, charming eccentricity, and just a hint of insidious manipulation, forming a force of nature that took crazy to whole new level. Lex Luthor had yet to be publicly tied to any of the malicious schemes and record breaking crimes that had popped up from time to time within his home turf, the City of Metropolis.

Even though he had been caught red handed while in the midst of committing some sort of diabolical felony countless times by Metropolis’ own heroic crime fighter, Superman, Luthor managed to always ingeniously and legally slip through the long arm of the law’s grasp – keeping name and reputation clear of any wrong-doing. The Metropolitan certainly did have a knack for finding loopholes in just about anything; using that same uncanny genius to build single-handed from nothing into something, his very own corporate empire of technological innovation and research development - Lexcorp; earning a title of respect as one of the world’s most successful and powerful empire corporations ever known to date. Developed and meticulously managed by Lex Luthor, he quickly, skillfully, and ruthlessly grew Lexcorp into a company with a multi-billion-dollar financial net worth, showing no signs of decreasing profits or diminishing value anywhere within sight.

Yes, Lex had forged himself a legacy of power and wealth, but it paled in comparison to the unwavering respect he earned from his fellow man given his sheer mental brilliance, determination, and invaluable contributions of technology and science to society. Proving that a willing mind was all the super power humanity truly needed – not some wayward alien flashing his otherworldly superhuman special abilities about, mistaking himself as some sort of “super man” instead of the freak of nature that he truly is.

Indeed, Bruce was more than familiar with Luthor’s M.O., history, secretive affiliations, as well as other unsavory ideals the ingenious business tycoon held – after all, he made sure to press Clark for any updated information learned or involvement had regarding Lex Luthor. That was a JLA member right he greatly took advantage of using – might as well get some sort of kick back for being affiliated with the Boy Scout and his band of merry JLA men (and women). And yet? Luthor had never been a primary concern for Bruce or primary anything for Gotham, he was Clark’s pain in the ass to deal with over in rosy cheeked Metropolis. Until now.

Bruce idly grinned with a carefree vapid shine in his gaze, appearing to look rather lost in following the brief conversation regarding innovative bioware clothing infused technology between Cleer and Luthor. It didn’t escape him for a second in noticing the way Cleer happened to peer over his form upon making first eye contact – a simple look over anyone would give to someone else when meeting for the first time, is what even skillfully trained eyes would perceive the type of glance Cleer gave Bruce.

But Bruce was far past having a skillfully trained eye, his trained eye was at master level and definitely caught the near invisible undertones of Cameron Cleer’s pin-pointed stare – a sign of internal analyzation and visual memorization for precise details. Cleer was working on dissecting past the carefree playboy Bruce Wayne visage in an attempt to hone in on the darkness lurking beneath the light of Bruce’s blue gaze having truly caught the man’s adept eye. His method was a little on the stiff side, Bruce had to note. Was Cleer in law enforcement? Detective? Undercover? Vice? Or was he self-employed, like a bounty hunter or a P.I.?

Bruce was now willing to bet that the name he gave them, Cameron Cleer, was most likely a fake. Still… It was a starting point for Bruce to dig up a little research on later. As for now? The mysterious young man wasn’t his primary objective, he had bigger, more dangerous fish to fry. Being the detail attentive man Cameron had been subtly proving himself to be by reading the body language and shift of focus in conversation now on display between Bruce and Lex, right on cue he then politely excused himself from holding conversation with the two rich and famous business moguls.

“Y’know,” Bruce sighed out. “Can you believe I had somehow managed to convince myself that things in Gotham aren’t as bad as everyone out there keeps trying to say they are?  It’s not Gotham if there aren’t at least three daily muggings and five daily shootings, all committed by the rookie cop who was turned by the Falcones before starting their first shift that day. Even wanted to believe that the whole “Arkham City” thing was nothing but a hash tagged tweet on Twitter that just stupidly got way too much attention and wound up going viral. The horror wasn’t really happening to Gotham if I didn’t think about it, talk about it, face it. So stupid.”

Bruce now squarely met Lex’s gaze, eye to eye – dark, grim, intensity suddenly sculpted his expression, replacing the boyish grin he had been sporting just moments before.

“Then I hear your breakdown of my city, my home. And I know it’s true, all of it. I can’t deny it anymore, don’t want to ignore it anymore. Just never would’ve guessed in a million years the potential face I’d see to save Gotham happens to be yours.”
Bruce set his empty party glass down on the tray of a waiter who happened to conveniently be passing by just then. He folded his arms over his broad chest, his chiseled face displaying a look of professional respect and attentiveness. It’d be a damn cold day in hell before Bruce would ever condone Lex Luthor’s assistance with Gotham’s affairs, let alone stand having his very presence for longer than a day in his city.

But he didn’t want Lex knowing that… Bruce Wayne had a persona and business sense to maintain, a role of diplomacy and equal fairness for all, and an uncanny knack to be blissfully unaware of potential business ventures and relations with corrupt histories and malicious intent to cause harm or seize total control and take over all of Wayne Enterprises. Of course, Bruce never let things get too far out of hand – and he wasn’t about to let Lex break his perfect record.

Bruce Wayne also could be one hell of a land shark to deal with in the business world – definitely not a push over, nor was he some insipid moron who could be effortlessly duped into anything. He was swift, sly, ruthless when he had to be, diplomatic but very clear cut on what he chose to affiliate with or instill with his trust and guaranteed endorsement. He did not negotiate his foundation or set standards, he would promote new and innovative ideas, processes, and formats. Keeping an open mind is a number one priority. Challenging proposals and ideals as well as remaining entirely honest with his opinions was priority number two.

Lex wasn’t some average bloated suit wearing tool. He would have to be very cautious and play things just right… Lex was a true adversary capable of frightening horrors that at times had managed to even disturb the Bat. Caution was key and believability was choice. Might as well start off playing a little hardball and test the waters with a healthy jab to get things rolling and get some kind of an idea for Lex’s definition of the word ‘help’…

“So what’s in your helping hand that you’ve decided to offer to us poor, unfortunate souls? Support and protection for all citizens of Gotham personally provided by the Man of Steel himself?”

[Deleted]

Lex seemed to be savoring something, Cleer was out of his thoughts for now. A polite statement and a smile, and his attention was now fully on the man in front of him. There was something very intense about Lex Luthor's attention, there was no question that he was brilliant, indeed some considered him in the same breath as Einstein or Edison or Da Vinci, a clear world class mind. There was that sensation with Lex Luthor that he always had countless things going on in his mind, even when at a party or in the middle of a congressional hearing or a press release or even in the laboratory, there was a sense that he was balancing many countless things, and indeed whatever he was addressing required little more than that. Lex Luthor was a man who often addressed the current situation with a minimum of attention while his mind lived in that far off world of the future where Geniuses lived. Not now.



No, now the entirety of his attention, every stray thought, everything about him was focused entirely on Bruce Wayne, right in front of him. This was abnormal. It was easy to ignore Bruce Wayne, after all, he was frivolous and foolish, coddled, the very symbol of the excesses of the wealthy, the ivory tower intellectual. Did Lex suspect something? Did he know something?



He smiled at Bruce, the smile of an innocent man who knew that the laws he's broken haven't even been written yet. How could they be? He held all the cards, senators called him to lobby for changes, and unlike Bruce Wayne. . . Lex Luthor was very free when offering his time with the folks in Washington. He was open with his gifts, unlike some who tended to carefully cultivate their development based on matters of principle and conscience. He was the Magician of Metropolis, after all, and in a world with God-Kings and Kryptonians and private non-governmental nation states silently judging the world: Well, Lex Luthor was the closest thing that the Military Industrial Complex had to a friend right now, and while people like Creer were working hard to fill in the gaps, LexCorp kept taking larger and larger chunks of the military and law enforcement apparatus on its back. Unlike some unnamed individuals who kept their technology on some sort of singleminded personal vendetta against corruption, Lex Luthor had practically given away some of his best technology. There was now an entire unit of the GCPD outfitted and trained in the latest domestic military technology, not to mention how pervasively and how well funded the MPD was at the moment.



Laws? Lex's very name meant Law. He wasn't some back alley thug trying to mug a woman for her purse. He wasn't some pedantic or arrogant racketeer using ham fisted thugs named Guido or Nicky to try to beat a grocer for protection money. He wasn't some scarred reprobate trying to sell drugs or stolen weapons from the trunk of a car. He wasn't even some sort of madman in a clown suit with a bit of nitroglycerin and some half remembered chemistry. Lex Luthor was an entirely different class of person, and he knew where the bodies were buried, mostly because he'd arranged for them to be put there. Taking out Lex Luthor was a possibility, yes. Something the Justice League could easily do at any moment, but at what cost? It would mean taking out the Government as well, and was that something the Justice League was prepared to do? Luthor knew that it was, eventually, and everything else was biding for time until he could prepare for that eventuality, because once that line was crossed, there was no going back.



Lex Luthor knew that there were many secrets in this world, knew that there were grudges and plans and plots that drove the world from the shadows, and he knew that Gotham City, damned little sideshow that it was, was about to be put smack into the middle of it. He knew this as clearly as he knew that all of those things were irrelevant. He knew who his enemy was, and he knew where the next war was coming from, and it had nothing to do with any of the larger forces that anyone had any real concern about. It did, however, have to do with the Justice League and the eventual question of Gotham's protector.



What did Luthor know? What was his game here?



"I have the advantage of a different perspective, Mr. Wayne, and frankly I remember Metropolis just a decade ago in the era where the Suicide Slums had a very literal name and the entire city was eaten up with Gang warfare and drugs. I grew up with a first row seat to the whole bloody mess. It's easy to get distance from a problem when your face isn't ground into it, although I know that you've had . . . many clear reminders of how bad things could be in your life. Even wealth is no escape from the problem, as you are no doubt very aware. I'd even argue that wealth is part of the problem, or rather a lack of it. Poverty, Mr. Wayne. Did you know that when I first came to Gotham, the very first day, I was mugged in the street just outside the airport while waiting for the car to be brought about. The sheer courage of the act, a man to walk up to me with a gun and threaten my life for my wallet, I was entranced by the entire thing, he tried so hard to be intimidating, but I realized it was serendipity. I gave him the contents of my wallet and offered to hire him on the spot as a guide, to show me the city. I learned his story. The man was a machinist in one of the great old factories here in Gotham, before it had closed. Closed after the entire pension fund, payroll fund and indeed all of the investment capital had been stolen away by a man who found his way over to some Caribbean island somewhere. My mugger had spent nearly six months working to find a job to support his family, before being hired. The pay was good, but the work itself was dangerous. You see, a criminal gang had hired my new friend and paid him to stand still near a robbery, so that he could be beaten by any approaching vigilantes while the real criminals escaped. For this position, he earned $2000. Can you believe that? Not even a share of the robbery. He had two ribs broken, and a broken nose and an opportunity to work for one of the gangs of Gotham. This man had been a machinist for over a decade, and yet when the economy failed, crime was the only way for him to feed his family. Research shows that the majority of violent crime is due to the excesses of poverty and greed, not all mind you, but the majority."



He looked over the man again, a knowledgeable onlooker might notice the two probing eachother, examining for weaknesses, like two prize fighters. "After all, we've both lost our parents to the excesses of poverty, Mr. Wayne." Ah, there it was. There was the look, the expression. Yes, welcome to the conversation, I have your attention now. The beast beneath the mask, Mr. Wayne. Dominant, this is your city, you're not used to being challenged by anyone sane. No, you're used to madmen and selfish men, the greedy and the petty, the pedantic and the arrogant, the entitled and the desperate and you dominate them all. You glare at them and you hate and you rage and you stand firm like steel. They lied, in Metropolis, Wayne. . . the real man of steel stands right here in Gotham, right in front of me. I knew he had to be here beneath that stupid mask, and I was right.


Yes, Wayne. Look deep at me. There's resistance here. I'm not like the other idiots of Gotham. You're not used to someone coming at you as an equal. You've surrounded yourself with weaker men, pretended to be weak to hide among them . . . while I've aimed my hate and my passions and my efforts at impossible odds. I'm not like the other ones, Wayne. Recognize that fact quickly, or this won't be fair at all.



"and while I share your concerns regarding Arkham City. . . " That was a conversation for another time, one that would need to inevitably be discussed. "It's not about Arkham City, or extravagant measures. I'm a capitalist as well as a scientist. I'm not here out of the goodness of my heart, I'm here because I believe in . . . your home, as you so aptly put it." He raises an eyebrow at Wayne's statement about the Man of Steel. Yes. The Alien, a needling probe, but predictable. He forced a smile. "While I can't speak for the Alien, Superman. . . I don't think he's necessary to 'save' Gotham, or really 'save' anything. Most crime is just the market's way of trying to correct habitual inequality that can be corrected in no other way. Yes, there are madmen and there are those who are addicted to the idea of Crime. Why, in Metropolis did you know that we once found a Bible of Crime? Can you imagine? A religion dedicated to criminal activity." He laughed a bit at that.



He shakes his head as he says "In Metropolis, which I understand is a very different city than Gotham, we addressed a significant percentage of the crime problem simply through massive investment in our population. And that investment has more than paid off. We expanded aggressively, invested with a view towards long term development, and saw our citizens as assets to be nurtured, developed, invested in and believed in. They had buy-in, they had a reason to love Metropolis again. A city cannot be expected to ask from its population unless it's prepared to give in return. A man of steel, a vigilante, these are extreme measures, but ultimately
the majority of crime is economy, opportunity, and desperation. Take care of that, all that's left are the madmen." 


Yes, you hate that I'm here in your city. Good. Let's see what you do about it, Wayne.

[Deleted]

(I do believe I'm out of this private party, so if it wasn't already in motion, skip me from here on out)