Chapter 27:
A crunch of glass underfoot made Nigel cringe and his steps falter. He glanced down and stepped back nervously to see what he’d stepped on as he walked in the room. Broken glass shards bounced back in the plush carpeting, and he frowned. It seemed one of his boss’ crystal tumblers had been obliterated. He glanced up in confusion only to find Lex's office in chaos, and Luthor at the center of it all. There was a mostly empty bottle of scotch, broken on the floor; half the things had been pushed off his desk haphazardly; his prized sword from Alexander the third or whoever warped and kicked onto the floor. Nigel eyed the man carefully. The bottle of scotch hadn't been opened before, he knew, as it was one Lex had been hoping to save for a special occasion. Drunk or not, though, Lex Luthor appeared to be one DSM diagnosis away from stark, raving mad. He approached calmly, careful to make some noise so as to not completely startle the man. "Sir? Everything all right?"
"He's a lunatic! I didn't do it. I'll show him. I'll show him."
Confusion bit him fiercely. "Sir—"
"And she! She'll see. I didn't do this. I didn't do anything! I set off a bomb. One thing. But I didn't do anything!"
A glint of something flashed back at him from Lex's loose grip, and Nigel staggered his footing, suddenly on alert. "Mr. Luthor."
"And my gun!" he shouted, lifting the weapon into the air, the sway to his step making him lose his balance briefly. "My gun. My father's gun. He knew. How did he know? I didn't show him my drawers. Open them. Lunatic. He knew. And he's out saving the city?!"
Nigel tried to piece together the few coherent words he was picking up from Luthor's deranged and erratic speech. Who was he talking about? Kent? Had his boss been here in his other guise?
Lex gestured broadly through the air above him, gun still in hand, as though displaying the name in lights. "What would it be like to live with a name like that? Women swooning every time you flew past, everyone welcoming you with open arms, wanting to get within an arm’s length of you--”
He approached cautiously, hands clearly out in front of him. "Sir, I think you need some rest."
"I'll never rest!" He shouted on a wobbly spin, stumbling towards the balcony and shouting outside. "You hear that? I'll never rest!!" He trailed off with a maniacal laugh that sent a chill down Nigel’s spine. Lex Luthor was at all times in control. Borderline control freak. He’d never seen Lex Luthor this unhinged.
Nigel hastily pulled him back inside from the balcony just as Lex started leaning too far over the ledge. Lex didn't resist, just continued to laugh as Nigel pulled him inside and plopped him down in his desk chair. He proceeded to close the door to the balcony as Lex spun circles in his seat, and wondered what the bloody hell his other boss had done to the man.
When he turned back, he saw the man twirling the gun around and around on one finger. Nigel ducked instinctually, but Lex just laughed. "No bullets," he murmured, fondly cradling the gun to his chest. "He used it. Wasted it. Needs a reload. Only ever needs one bullet."
Nigel could hardly fathom what had to have happened for his boss to have this level of a mental breakdown. He'd seen Lex Luthor at his highest heights, with a near manic energy and chasing after everything his heart desired with a passion. He hadn't imagined the lows would be equally as manic.
The man was unstable. Maybe always had been.
It was very nearly terrifying.
"And it wasn't even his fault!" Lex exclaimed suddenly, face furrowed in a frown. "Lois. And Blue. And me. But not even him!" This spawned another string of oddly stilted laughter.
"What happened to Lois?" Nigel hazarded to ask, knowing that information would be crucial to both the men involved in his career.
Lex shook his head. "She needs time. Like she's hadn't had ... hadn't... it's been a lot of time."
Nigel raised an eyebrow. "She left you?"
"No!" Lex shouted uproariously, as though the very concept was unfathomable. He slumped back into his chair as though all the air had been drained out of him. "She just left. It's all his fault. I know I said it wasn't but it is. Not my fault."
Nigel just sighed and started trying to clean up the room. It was the only bit of sanity he had. Clearly he wasn't getting anything else out of the man tonight.
"Clark. What kind of a name is that. It's a stupid name."
He smothered a smile as he gathered up the scattered sheets of LexCorp's military research and development contract strewn about the room, collating it back into it's original file folder. If nothing else, the rivalry between the two men was entertaining.
"Clark Kent. Clark Goddam Kent from Clark Goddam Kansas. No wonder. Kansas really is a God forsaken state. Ken... Kansas...."
Nigel finally looked over to check on the man when he trailed off into silence, only to see him frowning and pensive. "Sir? Luthor, are you alright?"
Lex didn't respond immediately, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly, as though trying to pull together the pieces of a puzzle while... well, while completely inebriated.
His gaze anchored on Nigel again, much less clouded now and far more frightened. "We need to go on a little trip, Nigel. Call ahead to the jet and make sure it's ready to go."
The three-sixty left Nigel with his head spinning. He checked his watch pointedly and arched his brow at the intoxicated man. "Now, sir?"
Lex was on his feet and grabbing his briefcase already, not even acknowledging the unsteady sway to his steps. "Not a moment to lose."
*****LnC*****
Clark had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that had no business being there. He should be on an all time high right now. Last night went better than he could have dreamed. And he wouldn't be bothered in the least if he could get in contact with anybody.
"Pick up the phone," he muttered as the voicemail message played once again. Nigel was never unreachable. If he had company he couldn't talk business in front of, or was in the middle of something, he picked up the phone and said so. Clark tapped his fingers against the desk impatiently, waiting for the voice to stop so he could finally speak. The beep sounded and Clark leaned forward in his seat. "Nigel, I don't know what's going on, but I need you here yesterday. We have a lot to talk about."
He hung up the phone, concerned that maybe something had happened to his right-hand man. He shook himself. He'd be fine without him. Maybe this was a sign he'd grown too reliant on the British spy.
He certainly knew too much about him to be up and walking.
Clark sighed and decided to go into the Planet. Lois could probably do to see him today. Maybe he could drop a hint about Luthor for their investigation— finally. Lois knew Lex wasn't quite so perfect now, and she knew his alias knew, but Clark could play dumb for a little while. "Unknowingly" be there as a shoulder to lean on.
He hoped she wasn't too broken up about it.
A demure voice spoke up behind him. "Surprised to see you in today. Lois called out.”
Clark's steps faltered as he turned back to face the drab and judgemental Cat Grant with a defensive frown. "I don't only come in for Lois."
"Oh Clark," she cooed, patting his arm condescendingly. "Keep working on that line. You've almost got it down."
He wanted to defend himself, but Cat had already sauntered off, and she wasn't wrong. If Lois wasn't here, he genuinely didn't have anything to do. He supposed he could do... actual paperwork. He nearly shuddered. That's what assistants were for.
Well. He could always check on the other side of his business. Without Nigel, he'd have to get his hands dirty. He made a good show of sticking around for a while, talking with Perry and Jimmy, hiding away in the conference room for a few minutes, if only for Cat's benefit.
He couldn't say why he cared.
Nobody knew anything about Lois' whereabouts. He did find out from Perry that she'd asked for the day off last night, before everything had fallen out with Luthor. He weighed the option of cruising past Luthor's place, just to check in and make sure Lois wasn't there, or locked in some bunker somewhere, but he chalked that up to a bad idea as well, realizing that he couldn't do anything even if she was there.
He ran a hand through his hair. He hoped she wasn't.
No matter. He'd find out where she was eventually. And he really had work to do.
It took him longer than he'd have liked to figure out who Nigel was planning on meeting with this afternoon. Clark waited in the shadows of the abandoned parking garage casually, picking a piece of lint off the lapel of his overcoat, adjusting his gloves. Boredom threatened to overtake him. He'd forgotten how dull this part could be. There was a lot of waiting involved in starting a major crime syndicate. It wasn't at all as glamorous as he'd imagined it early on, but it had its moments.
Two men turned the corner, hesitated when they didn't see the white-haired man. Clark took a few steps towards them, trying to gain their confidence. "Gentlemen. Fine day for a stroll in the shadows."
They shared a look of apprehension. "Where's the old man?" the shorter of the two spoke first.
"Mr. St. John has been temporarily incapacitated," Clark replied coolly, purposefully dropping his name. "I'm here in his stead."
"Yeah? And just who the hell do you think you are?"
Clark flashed his teeth on a grin. "I'm his boss."
The tension grew thick between them and their faces paled, and Clark took a small measure of glee from the ways he could hear their pulses rocket. Clearly they knew there weren't many people above Nigel in the chain of command, and that could only mean one thing. The two stood motionless waiting for him to make some sort of move. Clark reveled in the fact that he could still strike the fear of God into them without even making a threat. "Now," Clark continued. "I believe I'm here to address the issue of the confiscated cocaine?"
"H-He came out of nowhere, Boss!" the taller man exclaimed, defensive and irate. "That-that guy with the cape just swooped down out of the sky and took our guys! We didn't even have a chance to get down there to do anything in time."
"Victor, relax," the shorter man put a hand out in front of Victor's chest, seemingly knowing how to calm him. "It's all been taken care of, sir. We had to spend a little dough, but we were able to score some off of a street gang. Not as much, but enough for us to scrape by until the next shipment."
Clark remained impassive, waiting until they reached a natural lull in conversation to interject. "You have any of it with you?"
The shorter man nodded and nudged his partner. Victor jumped and fumbled for the packet in his breast pocket, and passed over a small plastic bag with a dose of powder inside. “Here you are, Mr. Kent.”
Clark removed a glove to take a quick taste and hummed noncommittally. He ran his tongue over his teeth, processing. "What did you say your name was again?"
The man glanced at his partner, nervously. "Uh. Victor?"
"Right. Victor. And-?”
The smaller man squirmed uncomfortably. “Kyle.”
“Very clever. Thinking on your feet."
Kyle put his hands in his back pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "Thanks. Um, thank you."
"You're welcome." Clark turned, starting to pace as he examined the little bag of powder, voice coming out as a low growl. "You want to know a little known fact? Guys like me— and by that I mean rich guys— they know the difference between high quality cocaine and generic coke off the street."
They blinked up at him, confused by the predatory turn he had taken as he suddenly loomed over them. "Do you have any idea what your little switch did? Because of this, somebody's not going to get the fix they need. This one shipment greases a lot of wheels. Maybe somebody decides our organization doesn't have the pull we used to, turns somewhere else for their supply. Maybe someone decides to stop cooperating. Maybe that cooperation was a necessity for the next shipment to come through, or for another plan in the larger scheme of things."
Victor, ever defensive, shook his head rapidly and spouted out words without second thought. "Sir, we didn't—"
"Oh, I'm not done," Clark was roiling now, and just getting started. He could feel the tightness in the cords of his neck, and he told himself to calm down to little avail. "Do you know whose drugs those were? A congressman's. Do you know what he was doing for me in return? No, you don't. Because you're peons. And instead of consulting with anyone, you tried to cover your own ass, push the problem down the line."
"No!" Victor took a few steps back, Clark a few steps forward, caging him in against the hard concrete of the garage. "I-I didn't. We just wanted to help—"
"Do you think we'll ever be able to use that port again for any shipments? No. And then, to top it all off, you have the audacity to call me by my name?"
Clark watched as the fear spread in Victor's eyes, realizing his slip up."I-I don't—"
His words were clipped, crisp and clear and almost sickeningly sweet as they fell from his lips."How do you know my name, Victor?"
"Y-you were on the news! I recognized you! I put two and two together. I just said it—"
Clark lifted the man up by the collar with both hands and physically pinned him against the wall, barely exuding any effort. "Do you have any idea how many people have seen my face, known what I did, and lived to tell the tale? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck right now."
His eyes were frantic, squirming to get out of Clark's grasp, legs kicking blindly for solid ground. "I can fix it! We can fix it! Kyle has a contact at the police station, he'll get the coke out of evidence!"
“Then it sounds like Kyle can fix it.”
There was a loud bang that echoed throughout the empty halls of the garage. Victor's body slumped over in his arms, and Clark let the man slide to the ground listlessly. He wiped his hand on his pants to get the blood spatter off and ran the gloved hand across his face before turning to face Kyle with a raised eyebrow.
Kyle shrugged loosely and slipped his gun back into the shoulder holster underneath his coat, a little too casual for a man that had just killed a friend. Clark made a note of that behavior. It could be useful down the line. "Man with a mouth like that? Can't bring him around a police station, or any other criminals neither."
Clark smirked as he watched the smaller man put his gun away, scrambling a hand through his hair to dislodge what felt like blood there as well. He'd have to speed home and clean himself up. "I like you, Kyle. I'm gonna give you a pass this time."
Kyle nodded eagerly, happy to have death pass by his door once more. "I didn't see anything or anyone. Who's this Kent?"
Clark tapped his nose and pointed at the man, before quietly backing away. If things didn't work out, he could always have Nigel remove Kyle from the equation as well.
*****LnC*****
Lois sunk into the red, heart-shaped bathtub with a sigh of relief, trying to let the scalding hot water and the play of the bubbles against her skin decompress her. She should do this more often. Her life should not be so stressful that the only break she ever got was a smoke break.
She tried to clear her head without allowing for anything upsetting to drift into her mind.
Too late.
The image of Lex’s charcoal grey suit standing toe to toe in contrast with the bright, primary-colored one struck behind her eyelids, and she slipped under the water to try and shock the image away. Unfortunately it didn't work. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Lex had been the one behind all the recent attacks. Why, she had no idea. It wasn't something she'd ever pictured coming from Lex Luthor, and they'd known each other for a year. The man proposed to her three times, and she didn't know about this side of him?
Stop it, Lane. You need a break from work.
That's what this visit was all about. Or at least, what it was now. Originally it had been a romantic adventure to get Lex and herself back to basics. Hence the honeymoon suite of the Lexor Hotel.
So much for the relaxing bath. She heaved a sigh and tried to pull herself out of the tub, slipping several times in the bubbles.
A glimpse of motion outside the bathroom window caught her eyes, and she slid back down to cover herself in the relative security of cherry scented bubbles with a squeak. She peeked over the edge of the tub, a frown creasing the lines of her forehead.
She knew that face, the silver head of hair seemingly shining back at her. That was Congressman Ian Harrington. She watched with curiosity as he was flanked by two other men who set up in the room across the way. Something was off about this. She scrambled out of the tub, not taking a second to cover herself with a towel, and rummaged through her purse for her camera.
Through the lens she had a little bit of a better view, and she watched and clicked as the men appeared to exchange large envelopes and investigate the contents.
Maybe this could be a new story. Something to distract her from her problems with Lex in the meantime.
One last picture for the road, and she watched as they each packed up their things and left.
Oh yeah. This would be exactly the right kind of distraction.
