Summary: The events in this story takes place some twenty-five years after Alive and Kickin’ and five years before Clark Kent arrives in Metropolis. Lex Luthor is no longer an ambitious youth fighting his way off the streets, but a man of considerable influence and consequence. Now in possession of a fabulous fortune, the world lays at his feet, anything he desires is obtainable, but after his greatest triumph, nothing brings him joy. Something or perhaps, someone is missing …
For the longest time the relationship between Lex Luthor and my character Aykira Milan always had an obstacle or two, thus the couple never truly had a happy ending. Empire is my answer to this problem.
Also, a very small tip of the hat to the NBC-TV series Timeless. What a gem! Happily that series got the finale it deserved, pity the same cannot be said for Lois and Clark. Oh, if only we could go back in time!
A big thank you to Susan aka Groobie, what a great cheerleader and beta!
Legal Disclaimer: Everything in this story, except the character of Aykira Milan, belongs to December 3rd Productions.
Chapter One
Metropolis 1989
Late October in New Troy is known for its crisp, clear evenings and this particular autumn night was no exception. High overhead the sapphire dark sky was scattered with stars that glistened like tiny diamonds of cold light firmly set in the heavens. Far below lay the great city of Metropolis where its millions of busy inhabitants thrived like a thing alive. Street sounds, despite being so distant reached up like some beautiful noise caressing and holding intently onto the night.
Lex Luthor, wearing a two piece black tuxedo suit in a wool-silk blend, the final word in eveningwear for the billionaire, stood looking out over Metropolis from his stylishly appointed penthouse suite’s large terrace. The outside space was planned as a small oasis during those days when the pressures of work became intolerable and a brief respite was essential. Here in warmer weather he could do skeet shooting and appreciate the lovely vegetation, plotted in great colorful urns. Unfortunately due to the autumn chill, the hardscape was soften only with comfortably upholstered furniture, not verdant foliage.
A few hours ago the penthouse rooms had been filled with soft, classical music, played from a cleverly concealed sound system. His ‘guests’; business acquaintances, politicians, architects, reporters, assorted hangers on and his current ‘lady love’, Madeline Hexum, the most popular supermodel in the country. All had been assembled to drink champagne, eat delectable exotic foods prepared by the fantastic Chef Andre and his meticulous staff. These people, captains of industry, all wanted to bask in the reflective glory of his achievement. After all, how many men have a ninety-story, state-of-the-art skyscraper named after them?
It was at least one o’clock in the morning before the last person, munitions expert Thaddeus Roarke, departed. He assumed Madeleine had understood the ‘subtle’ message that he didn’t want her around and probably left on the arm of her next conquest. Once the waiters and cleaners had silently done their tasks and departed, in the prevailing quiet, Lex contemplated his new home.
The jewel of the crown in his global business empire; a four-story penthouse.
He walked through the well-appointed abode which boasted of a drawing room, library, gourmet kitchen, ballroom, and home theatre. It was with deep satisfaction he surveyed each room. In his youth the very word penthouse meant a person had arrived, entering a sphere of luxury and exclusivity very few could even daydream about. Penthouse apartments burst on the scene in the 1920s when a vibrant economy sparked by a construction boom in Manhattan filled the demand by Jazz babies, Gatsby types and the nouveau riche for sky-high luxury apartments with to-die-for views.
Such construction designs spread to many major cities throughout the country during that period and down to the end of the twentieth century. One of the things that appealed to him about penthouse apartments was not only the advantages of a regular apartment but security and a convenient location. In this particular case it was situated in the heart of Metropolis. Such a location provided easy access to the best hotels, restaurants, museums and theatres. His new home was many times larger than a typical brownstone.
The boardroom and office were specifically planned by him, to impress visitors, proclaiming they had entered the nerve center of LexCorp. The private office displayed two of his most prized possessions; Alexander the Great’s sword and a bust of Shakespeare, two symbols respectively; one of immense power and the other of culture. Lex Luthor held both such qualities firmly in his hands and this newest addition to Metropolis skyline was evidence of that fact.
LexTower, the tallest office building in the state of New Troy, after years of planning and even more of building had finally been finished and open for occupation by elite businesses. Literally thousands of employees would come here to work each day. With features such as efficient column-free floorplates, abnormally high ceilings, extra-large windows, and incredible light and views, and the latest computer technology was to house the headquarters of the international conglomerate.
The greatest caveat? Everyone in the city had to gaze upwards in order to see this shining edifice and know that Lex Luthor had built it.
Yet, now that this architectural feat was accomplished, why did he feel so unfulfilled and weary? Shouldn’t the third richest man in the world be content? He stepped out to the terrace in order to breathe in the crisp night air and think about his life.
What world … what endeavor remain for him to conquer? Searching his mind … and surprisingly heart there was a sense that something essential to his life was absent. He always wanted to accomplish more, for what is man if he does not continue to strive for improvement, perhaps excellence? In a thousand or even one hundred years would anyone know or care that a man named Lex Luthor once lived?
There was a song by Sinatra? Oh yes, something about a good year and the man reminisces about his relationships with different kinds of women over the course of his life. Lex could honestly say that his life resembled the last stanza of the song; ‘riding around in limousines with blue-blooded girls of independent means’ fit perfectly.
The only woman he foolishly allowed to get close to him and marry was jettisoned from his life years before. Arianna Carlin was beautiful, cultured and highly intelligent, a successful businesswoman in her own right. Sadly, too ambitious by half. Upon realizing Lex did not want to share the responsibilities of running the newly formed company with her, Arianna schemed with two of his top executives to take over LexCorp. If Sheldon Bender had not overheard the trio’s clandestine conversation regarding manipulation of LexCorp’s stock, they might have won. That was a public and financial humiliation he simply could not allow to take place.
The turncoat executives; Nigel St. John and Dominque Cox and their entire support staff were immediately fired, blackballing them so they could not work in any reputable corporation in the state of New Troy. The entire matter was swiftly hushed up. He used key persons within the financial community to quietly spread rumors that the entire group had bungled an important deal with an unnamed European cartel.
His wife? The betrayal had wounded him deeply, far more than he was willing to admit. Arianna, given a sizable settlement, guaranteed only if she remained silent about the takeover, was packed off to London with instructions not to return to America for at least five years. Ever since then, women, especially those who fit his former wife’s mode of fierce ambition were best kept at an arm’s length. Afterwards; associating only with female companions with limited intellect which led to boring conversations and zero mental stimulation.
Still, he thought wistfully, there was one woman from the past whose intelligence, beauty and courage were the stuff of dreams. When they met he was being soundly beaten in a back alley by his associates who discovered he had stolen all the money for a bank job they had pulled earlier that month. Of the trio, he feared Nico Zabrinski, the man was too eager to use his knife.
Abruptly, a woman appeared out of the night and with deadly, efficient grace beat all three men in the time it took to draw in a breath. Just as swiftly, she packed him off to a seedy motel, made certain he was safe and then after saying her name, departed. He watched her walk down the street and out of his life. A grim shadow crossed his handsome features; perhaps it was the adrenaline still pouring through taut nerves, but foolishly he asked her to stay the night and ‘enjoy’ each other’s company. The wintery cool response? He was out of her league.
Character assessment was one of his greatest strengths, which he had ignored, this was no low-life street woman to be coaxed into a meaningless connection. It was a crude mistake, one never to be repeated. For all the years since, no woman - not even Arianna – inspired him with such a passion or the will to do and be more.
So the question remained; without such a muse by his side, where to go from here? Cost-Mart, the cover for Intergang was gradually making inroads in his ‘other businesses’ perhaps taking down that swarmy interloper, Frank Church will be the next challenge?
Suddenly he hears the French doors slide open and without looking behind, he spoke harshly, “Madeleine, I do not require your … company this evening. Our ‘relationship’ such as it was, is at an end.”
He sighed, truly, the woman did not have the intellect of a gnat. Her voracious appetite for the expensive gifts he provided when she pleased him seemed to have no end. He found such insatiable greed to be disturbing in a woman so beautiful. Eventually it would lead to other problems. Earlier, he determined it was time to put their ‘romance’ aside.
Unaware of his decision, Madeleine, a titan-hired beauty with sea-green eyes looked like a queen tonight or rather last night. No man would be ashamed to have such a creature accompany him to the LexTower opening festivities and the reception. But after their grand entrance to his penthouse where the after party took place, Lex simply ignored her.
As he spoke with guests and business acquaintances eager to gain his ear and favor, he was in the half-hearted process of looking for a replacement. Sadly, tonight no woman intrigued him enough to even flirt with. Apparently, since she was on the terrace, Madeleine had not taken the hint.
Than with a start, he realized he had never given her a passkey to the building much less his private apartments. He needed to contact security and if necessary, have her forcibly escorted from the premises. Suddenly on a wisp of air he caught a delightful perfume which was definitely not the cloying scent of perfume Madeleine preferred. This floral aroma with slight hints of citrus smelled familiar and touched a memory. It was the unmistakable scent of a capable, gorgeous woman … a fragrance he had not breathed in over two decades.
He turned around in utter surprise, standing in the center of the terrace was a black woman whom he had not seen since a fateful night in Suicide Slum when his former ‘colleagues’ demanded their share of the money they had stolen.
The years had been very kind to her. His eyes roved over every inch of the lady; she was tastefully dressed for the evening in a fitted burgundy gown, accented by a generous cashmere wrap of dark heather, with hints of burgundy and trimmed in gray. As the mysterious Aykira Milan had been before, so she was again; alluring, yet powerful. Not a month had passed since that night when he had not thought about her and the enigmatic words she had spoken. He was always intrigued about when he must return the favor.
“Mr. Luthor.” The soft voice which spoke was delicate and more cultured, than he remembered. “It is good to see you again and as expected, the promise of youth has been greatly fulfilled.”
Years of self-discipline had taught Lex Luthor never to reveal his emotions, still this inexplicable appearance of the woman who saved his life and had on occasion entered his dreams tested a steely resolve. Nonetheless, the voice of Metropolis most prestigious citizen did not betray any surprise. “Ms. Milan … Aykira. It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years.”
Her lips moved into a slow smile. “Remember, you promised to repay me for preventing those thugs from giving you a proper thrashing?”
Having regained some emotional footing, he answered with a genuine smile of his own, “Such a promise, especially under those dire circumstances could not be forgotten. But if I remember correctly, you set the rules … something I don’t normally allow. It wasn’t a thrashing, they were going to kill me, if a certain beauty with fine hazel eyes had not intervened.”
She couldn’t help but smile wider at their verbal jousting. “I am here because of the significance of this past evening and the remarkable success of your life so far. Regarding the money from that other time, it no doubt provided the barest foundation for the multi-national conglomerate, LexCorp?”
After his contemplative thoughts of what was a successful life, the expression on his face had been riveted firmly into place, it was the meticulous façade he presented to the world. She knew what became of the money I took from those idiots? It was baffling that even now, she was two steps ahead. He decided to play this game of mental chess and see what the outcome would be. “As well informed as ever, Ms. Milan.”
She shrugged, “In this era of the technological superhighway, information is the coin of the realm. But I am not here to discuss science, more like art and the future. Specifically your future. As a patron of the arts, no doubt Thomas Cole’s series of paintings called Empire is familiar?”
Not certain where she was going with this, he responded carefully, “Yes.”
“The overview is: A series of paintings depicts the growth and fall of an imaginary city - perhaps one of the Greek city-states - situated on the lower end of a river valley, near its meeting with a bay of the sea. The valley is distinctly identifiable in each of the paintings, in part because of a unique landmark: a large boulder is situated atop a crag overlooking the valley …”
Luthor responded. “Indeed, there are some pedantic critics who believe this boulder is meant to contrast the immutability of the earth with the transience of man. Really Aykira, why must we discuss the matter now? Tell me who you are and why have you returned to my life?” He stepped closer to her, allowing that heady scent to complete envelop him.
“Mr. Luthor, the night we met you prowled among your contemporaries like a hungry lion on the southern African grasslands, ready to devour anyone who got in your way. But apparently your associates decided to put an end to such dangerous strides. As you said, if I had not interfered they would have killed you and all of this,” she gestured around, “would never have come into existence. But I did, thus your life at that time mirrored painting number one: ‘The Savage State’.”
“He snorted derisively the social masque stirred ever so slightly. “A savage? Woman, do not come to my home and mock me!”
She shrugged, as if tossing his comment away. “Say whatever comes to mind Lex, but at the time you were young and not as cultured as the man before me today.”
Dismissively he said. “Perhaps. We all have our formative years. So my dear, humor me, where do I stand in Mr. Cole’s famous series now?”
She walked over to the wooden table in center of the terrace, pulled back a chair and gracefully sat down upon the cushions. “Oh, definitely painting number three: The Consummation of Empire. An excited crowd gathers on the balconies and terraces as a scarlet-robed king or victorious general crosses a bridge connecting the two sides of the river in a triumphant procession. In the foreground an elaborate fountain, full of crystal clear water bubbles enthusiastically. The look of the painting suggests the height of ancient Rome or perhaps Greece. The decadence seen in every detail of this cityscape foreshadows the inevitable fall of a vast civilization which has grown too far, too fast. A little bit like what happened last night. So many eager sycophants ready to shout your praises were present.”
Luthor now irritated, allowed the cultured mask to drop and responded with anger. “Decadent? You consider me decadent?”
Leaning back in the chair with easy confidence of a chess master about to overcome her opponent, Aykira invited him to sit beside her. With mixed emotions he did so and listened carefully as the words escaped ruby lips.
“Consider the man Lex Luthor from my standpoint. It began with one small bank robbery. But, over the years your crimes have grown in scope. The ten thousand dollars stolen from that gang of ignorant thugs is nothing compared to the millions pilfered in the middle of hostile corporate takeovers during the 1980s. Not to mention illegal land grabs from bankrupt farmers who were sitting on mineral deposits that LexCorp strip-mined leaving the land barren and the ecology destroyed. What about those off-shore accounts full of your personal wealth that cannot be taxed by the government? Oh yes, should I mention the number of politicians, both here and in Washington who are like puppets, ready to dance whenever you pull on a chain? No doubt. All of this is the mark of a decadent man at the very pinnacle of his haughtiness and financial power.”
Stunned, Luthor rose partially out of his seat, nearly sputtered when he interrupted, and said, “Woman, who told you all this?”
Ignoring the question, she continued sadly, “This list does not include your involvement with more than mere white collar crime. There are many in the corporate world, who also conceal their illegal activities. Lex avoid having anything to do with Intergang. As dangerous as you are, they are a hundred times more ruthless and are not afraid to forcefully demonstrate that to anyone who gets in their way … even if that person is the feared ‘Boss of Metropolis’.”
He laughed, a sound of genuine humor which filled the chilled air.
“Surely you don’t mean Bill Church and that useless son of his? Perhaps his new young wife, Mindy? The one who pretends to be an empty-headed blonde, but in reality is the truly dangerous one? Personally, Bill has my sympathies, I know all too well what it is to have a treacherous wife. Please rest assured, they will be taken care of before the year is out. If I am the underworld mastermind you accuse me of being, no serious criminal faction could spread its tentacles into Metropolis without my knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses.”
The dark woman nodded thoughtfully, “Well played. But let’s just say hypothetically if you were this criminal mastermind, rather than destroying Intergang and the Church family, why not present the evidence gathered against them to the police? If not the police, then what about an intermediary? It would be cleaner and less … violent?
There is a well-respected reporter on the Daily Planet, Mr. Jonas ‘Cleat’ Johnson who could write up the story without naming the source.”
His previous humor vanished and Luthor sat quietly, contemplating what she had said and then answered briskly. “Are you mad? Give away valuable information to a man about to retire? Who still writes up his stories on a battered relic of a typewriter instead of a word processor? He was here tonight, with his wife and the Daily Planet’s managing editor Perry White. They were talking about a promising new reporter, someone called Lane. Perhaps that journalist might get the assignment? Then the story, which should be a smashing expose of Intergang’s activities would be treated as a joke!”
He noticed Aykira’ s eyes blink suddenly, as if surprised, but he chose to ignore it.
“How will other criminals stay away from Metropolis? If I … if certain actions had not been taken, this city would become as corrupt and ruined as Gotham. Even the one the papers call Nightwing is having a difficult time keeping that rabble under control.”
With closed eyes the dark woman took in a cleansing breath and spoke, holding back the apprehension which threatened to leach into her voice. “Remember the paintings. If you do not stop this negative path, within five years’ time the decision of who shall control – and protect Metropolis – will be irrevocably taken from you. Destruction from outside forces shall overwhelm you. Lex Luthor will be dead … at his own hand, everything you have ever worked for will be wiped away, forgotten … desolate.”
The two sat, staring at each other, the night’s chilly air which had been tolerable before was beginning to seep its way into his flesh. A tuxedo, no matter who designed it, did not protect a man from the elements. He was mentally grappling with the abhorrent thought that all he had worked for might be destroyed and that he would take his own life. A mysterious and beautiful messenger was giving him a warning. Sooner or later one or more of his enemies would discover the truth about his other activities and reveal everything to the wrong person. But the questions remained; who was she and could he trust her?
The silent tension between them expanded and slowly drew out like a sharp blade until Lex stood, walked over to the terrace railing and once again looked out over the city he called home. “Please leave Ms. Milan. You refuse to explain who you are. What was the purpose of saving my life twenty-five years ago and now this unsolicited demand that I contact the authorities about Intergang? Why? Is this the favor or is there a deeper part of this mental chess match we are playing?” All this was said without turning back to look at her, treating her with the same disregard he had done to Madeleine earlier in the evening.
The sound of a chair moving and then expensive evening shoe heels clicking on the hard terrace pavement reached his ears, instead of hearing the doors open and click shut, floral perfume once again filled his nostrils and the touch of a hand, the heat of which came through the fabric, was laid gently on his shoulder.
“Lex, before opening the French doors to the terrace I watched you gazing out over the city, the expression on your face was weary, even pained. It was not the look of a man elated with accomplishing a great achievement, but of someone who was experiencing deep sorrow … even loneliness. Please be honest with me. Are … are you content?”
He did not look at her. “What does that have to do with you being here now and me providing information to the authorities that will destroy Intergang?”
She studied Lex’s immovable profile, those bright, hazel eyes filled with sadness. “Everything. I have watched from a distance for a long time Lex, but no longer. My earnest request … my favor is that you turn away from this path. I do not wish to see you die, like an avalanche rolling down a frigid snow covered mountain, ignoring me will not halt the inevitable.”
He spoke into the air, his words falling like a broken sword. “The fourth painting?”
She did not speak, he already knew the answer.
He turned, the terrace lights gave her deep amber skin a soft, enchanting glow, using his left index finger, he caressed the beautiful face with a tenderness that surprised them both. Suddenly Lex realized building an empire and having no one to share it with was a meaningless and empty pursuit. Arianna was the wrong woman at the wrong time. This was what he had failed to recognized earlier, he was lonely and not all the wealth in the world could fill that abyss.
Without another thought, he gently reached up and ran his fingers through long, dark tresses and then cupped her face with both hands. He gazed into fine hazel eyes which could be tender one moment and fierce the next, a man could lose himself in those eyes. He looked down at her lips, so full and sweet. Before Aykira could pull away or utter a sound his lips came down, meeting hers. His thumb moved along her jawline as he leaned into the kiss and happily discovered she responded with equal passion.
Part of him wanted to stop, if he didn’t this kiss could lead to another meaningless physical relationship. He desired this woman yes, but not in the short-term. Aykira Milan could not, no, would not be button-holed in with Madeleine Hexum and her kind. He wanted to explore and discover who she was and what they could be together. Slowly, reluctantly he pulled away, again gazing deeply into her questioning eyes, saying nothing.
Again the silence stretched out, sensing the ardent interlude was at an end, Aykira stepped out of his tender embrace, turned and with a bowed head walked back to the French doors. The absence of her warm touch was felt, immediately replaced by a searing cold. He watched as she was about to open the glass French doors, enter through them and out of his life, this time perhaps forever.
Lex called out. “This request … or rather the favor will not be without consequences. If … I do this, tell me everything about you … stay tonight? Not to share passion, but simply to be together for I crave intelligent conversation. I suddenly find my weariness of heart has vanished.”
Without a moment hesitation Aykira turned and with a hint of a smile said softly. “Yes Lex, the night is growing colder and there is a great deal for us to talk about
Last edited by Morgana; 11/03/19 12:44 PM.
