Author’s note: In response to Kerth 2019 Weekly Challenge #2. I was inspired to write this story on my way to work--doubly surprising since songfiction and I don't usually get along.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plot lines etc. are property of DC Comics, November 3rd Productions and Warner Bros. I own nothing.
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Lex walked the halls of LexLabs in the wee hours of the morning. His feet had led him here of their own accord. His private entrance had let him in without alerting the staff. While the night staff went about their business, oblivious, he moved easily through the upper floors.
One of the cleaning staff had a radio on their cart and its sounds drifted through the halls. Common sounds for the working class in their workplace. This was not his workplace. He saw it only as a profit center and a means to accomplish his goals. White halls signifying professionalism and efficiency. However, tonight he sought something alien. Funny, “alien”—the word used to describe Superman--was just the word for what he was after.
All his life he had wondered. Yes, that was the word. “Confused” was too extreme, but “wondered” was about right. All his life he had wondered. When his little schoolmates had become excited on seeing their mothers after a long day at elementary school. When he saw mourners weeping at a funeral. People moved by compassion. All these things were alien to him. So was the “thrill” of victory for that matter. He understood satisfaction at winning a hard-fought battle, but the need to celebrate? Like the other “social” emotions, it completely eluded him.
He was satisfied that he didn’t suffer from the afflictions of his contemporaries on seeing them completely at the whim of their emotions. It was weakness. It was weakness that he didn’t need and didn’t miss. Though recent events also made him wonder...
He turned into a nondescript office, turned the light switch off and in the light from the hallway he picked up the telephone and dialed a number. There was a soft click from across the room. Lead lining was impractical, since it telegraphed that something was hidden, but protection from Superman could be as simple as filling an unused office with junk. He crossed to the newly unlocked door and heard a muffled bit of song coming from the adjoining hall.
He started rummaging through the cabinets. His prize was here somewhere. Patience.
He went back to his musings. He was always an excellent observer. He could see differences between himself and those around him. He had taken the mandatory Psychology 101 class in college and indulged in the almost-as-mandatory self-diagnosis. When the boxes were all checked and the diagnosis was made he had paused for about ten seconds. Psychopath. Then he realized that if he was a psychopath then it was everyone else’s problem, and put the matter from his mind.
Miranda’s pheromone spray had worked but not the way she had intended. Certainly she had wanted him to fall in love with her and had planned to lead him by the nose. Instead she had shown him what passion was. For the first time in his life he understood passion. Yes, he could see that Lois was obviously the perfect woman for him. More importantly, his life had acquired a completely new dimension that evening. There was color where there had only been gray before.
Then it went away when the pheremone wore off. It was taken from him. Unacceptable.
A blind man had experienced sight for one short evening. Her spray of Revenge had awakened his very soul. Then it had sifted through his fingers and been lost.
Lex had always been a man of great dreams, of precise timing, and a master of the fallback plan. Not willing to suffer the whims of fate, Lex had Miranda's lab under surveillance; her work had been duplicated in an office not unlike this one. She may have lost her work, but Lex had retained what was his. After all, his investment--his research.
He finally found his prize. The decision had been made that morning he awoke bereft of passion. He took the bottle of Revenge and drank deeply. He felt the passion return.
The music from the hall came again, closer and more clearly this time.
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you
Ah yes, The Police. He had never really appreciated their music for some reason, he chuckled to himself...but this...this was a song about Lois. His Lois. As he left he caught his reflected image in a dark office window. His eyes gleamed with passion.
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Every Breath You Take by Sting, 1982
Last edited by Shallowford; 03/08/19 08:01 AM.
