Episode 16: Be Not Afraid
The culprit of the symbols decides to attack Lex Luthor, unaware that he has a body guard nearby.
Luthor sat holding a washcloth to the gaping hole that was once his left ear. He was applying constant pressure but there was no way he was getting enough surface tension to stop the bleeding. The left side of his suit had bloodstains so copiously spread there were some at his ankles. Yet despite the hideous state he was left in he felt no pain. He felt no fear, and he felt absolutely no sense of urgency. He remained steadfast like a strong rock in a raging stream as he stared fixedly at the door his attacker was locked behind.
“Mr. Luthor, I beg of you, let me take you to the hospital!” His assistant Landry screamed out. “How much more blood can you lose?! The ambulance won’t be here for another few minutes!”
Luthor did not reply. He remained so vacant Landry wondered whether or not he even heard her. His eyes shimmered back and forth as the adrenaline pumped through his veins like poison through a drink. There was nothing more important to him than the results coming out of that door, and he was going to stick around to see it.
Landry saw the true man behind those emerald green eyes. The fixation that was built on passionate rage that made him into the titan he was today. To stare into the eyes of that man and get a taste of what his insides were like, even if it wasn’t pointed at you made one sick. The malicious energy burned in thick rivulets off of his face. This wasn’t the appearance of a man who would do anything to get ahead, this was the visage of a person who wanted to do anything to get ahead. He wasn’t just ready to go to the extreme, he was looking forward to it. He hadn’t a shred of mercy in his body, and this was a rare opportunity where mercy wasn’t expected of him. She knew she wouldn’t convince him to walk away from this, but she had to try anyway.
“Sir, if this is about revenge I assure you the law will be on your side. You can get more than your fair share of vengeance in court.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t even recognize she was there.
The door to the study the prisoner was kept in opened, and Slade Wilson stepped out of it. He had been interrogating the assailant to find out why he was trying to kill Lex Luthor and where he came from. Lex needed to find out how many more threats to expect and this man held the answers. Held, but didn’t divulge. Because Slade Wilson stepped out of the room disappointed and empty handed.
“Nothing.” He growled.
“What does that mean?” Lex said, calmly.
“He’s not talking. His brain has been mangled with. He can’t feel pain.”
“Really?” Lex said, interest surging like a scientist commenting on the state of his lab rats.
“He’s a religious fanatic. He came to kill you for your many, many sins.”
Landry lowered her eyes, recognizing herself as one of those sins. She yearned for him to show a shred of humanity towards her and say something, rather than treat her as the emotionless machine he really wanted. Such a treat would never come. Lex’s brain hummed and whirred as he tried to come up with the next steps, but he was interrupted by Slade.
“I’m not letting a member of The Light die on my watch. Get your ass to a hospital, now. I’ll get rid of this.”
“I want to talk to him.”
“No. Do what I said.”
“You can’t dispatch of him. You have to dispatch of her.”
Slade and Landry made eye contact instantly. Slade looked at her with a view of problematic confusion. Lex didn’t really want him to just ice this poor woman did he? That was ridiculous, surely he wasn’t so emotional as that. She looked at Slade with abject terror. She believed it in an instant. Lex Luthor was serious and he was willing to go that far. Her adrenaline leapt to it’s greatest heights and her chest began to heave.
“You can’t be serious.” Slade replied.
“Of course I am. You said ‘The Light’ out loud in front of her. She has to go.”
Slade rolled his eye in stupidity and rage. He knew he should have kept a tighter lip, but why in the world did Lex keep this woman around if she couldn’t hear the truth? Obviously she couldn’t see him if she weren’t to be trusted, did he just want this woman dead and needed an excuse? Was Lex that low? Slade drew his sword, grimacing at this spilling of useless blood. He wanted to just shoot her and be done with it, but her death needed to look like it was the intruder’s fault, and the intruder didn’t have a gun. It had to be a sword. Landry began screaming and backing away. Slade couldn’t tell whether she was trying to appeal to his feelings or was just really that dramatic. Slade hated the loud ones.
Lex walked slowly into the study and shut the door behind him. He took a look at his attacker, getting a true reading on him for this first time, as the frenzied battle didn’t allow much studying.
He was wearing a ghostly white attire, stained with Lex Luthor’s blood and possibly blood from others. He once had a cape and a hood with a metal face mask for protection, although Slade had removed all of those by now. The assailant’s attire was heavily armored and medieval inspired, with bulging chest plates and large shoulder pads. The chest bore a Christian cross stitched upon the white in a bright crimson fabric. The religious servitude was writ large on every inch of the man and it couldn’t help but fascinate Luthor. Didn’t the Christian god tell people to love each other? Where did he get the idea to become an assassin from. He approached the killer tied in his chair, and began to speak.
“Why?” He said, his tone calm and curious.
“Your time has come.” The killer said, he too unbothered by circumstances. “Your sins have caused St. Dumas to take umbrage with you. You will be forced before the Lord and he will judge you for what you’ve done.”
“Is St. Dumas the guy responsible for the symbol on my back?”
“Yes. St. Dumas has marked you for death, and I am the killer.”
“I thought only god could judge men?”
“You speak the truth. God is the uncaused causer, and the only permitted to judge any living soul.”
“Except this ‘St. Dumas’ I see.”
“St. Dumas has not judged you. He has marked you for judgement by Christ, and I will send you to your hearing.”
Lex mentally applauded the man for committing to this skit so hard as he reached into his inner suit pocket and withdrew his favorite weapon.
A pistol, powered by a tiny gem of Kryptonite. It was the first in his line of light guns that now armed every weaponized vehicle he had ever designed. It fired beams of concentrated radiation so powerful it was three times the strength of a bullet. It’s excellent design had narrowed it down to the size of a Post-It Note with a tube at the end, and it could be hid almost completely in a suit pocket, pant pocket or ankle holster. It wasn’t Kryptonite concentrated enough to stand a chance against Superman, but against normal humans it was the smallest and most effective killing machine since the mousetrap, and Luthor carried it everywhere. He even gave it a name. “Veritas.”
“Do you know what the lord will say about you?” He asked his assailant with the kind of cold robotic lethality of a trained assassin.
“When God sees me, the only reason he wouldn’t welcome me home was if he was sending me back.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you again.”
Lex discharged the weapon into the assailant’s forehead, blasting a glowing red hole into his skull. His head was thrown back with such force it sent the chair he was tied in falling backward. A splatter of boiling entrails crashed against the wall and bubbled through the wallpaper, causing it to tear and flake onto the floor. Lex stared at the corpse for an entire minute, daring not to blink. He watched it for some sign of spiritual happening. Would the body move? Would Lex be able to see his soul being either carried by angels or dragged by demons? Would there be any kind of physical proof of this deity the man committed his life to? Lex finally blinked after sixty seconds of watching, and the body had neither moved nor changed in any meaningful capacity. It was just dead. Nothing more, nothing less. Lex holstered Veritas and cracked his jaw, sneering at once again being proved right. He turned away from the cadaver and left the room, beholding the scene Deathstroke had left behind.
Landry was torn apart, slashed at least four times by a sword almost as tall as she was. The blood coated the walls and even dripped from the ceiling. The disappointment was palpable. Wasn’t Deathstroke a professional?
“I thought you were supposed to be the best.” Lex sneered.
“It needed to look like he did it.” Slade growled. “Get to a hospital. Now.”
“I can’t drive like this. The ambulance will be here any moment. I’ll go with them.”
“You’re losing too much blood, you won’t make it.”
“She had my ear in her pocket. Bring it to me.” Luthor said, taking a seat on the floor.
Slade rummaged through what was left and withdrew the blood-covered ear from her pocket. It was heavier than he expected, like it was made of double the usual cartilage. It stunk somehow, despite being removed less than five minutes ago. Even Luthor’s appendages reeked of narcissism. Slade tossed the ear lazily into Luthor’s lap, where Luthor picked it up and started examining.
“I’m going to update Ra’s.” Slade said drawing the cellphone from his tactical gear.
Lex stared with fixed bewilderment at the body part in his hand. He knew it was impossible, but somehow he could still feel the thing. His thumb and forefingers clenching tightly still sent signals of such familiarity to his nerves. But it wasn’t still connected, he wasn’t touching it in the air, yet feeling it against his head. He was feeling it where it was. Like there was a spiritual or metaphysical connection linking the severed ear and it’s past nerve endings. If only he could hear out of it too. He took note of this phenomenon, promising himself he’d do more research on it later. For now, he’d get all the data he could.
He ran his middle finger along the rim of it’s many ridges, looking for numbness. This complex sensory event pushed the mystical connection and it began to dwindle. He could feel spots close to the part of the ear his thumb was resting on, but it became blank quickly. It didn’t take but a few micrometers away from the thumb before he was only receiving feedback in his finger. This returning to reality forced sensation to leave where his thumb was as well, returning the ear to a severed appendage, as it was in his assistant’s pocket. He poured over it visually, impressed by what he saw. It was a good size and shape, almost perfect. It was the exact image of an ear one would see in a magazine, or if you Google searched “ears.” It’s curves were smooth, symmetrical with the other ear, and predictable. It was fair skinned, and it would have been perfectly tan if not for the lack of blood. He couldn’t think of a way any human body part could be improved, except for one single spot of ear wax in what was left of the inner channel. That spot intrigued him. Should he remove it? Return his flesh to perfection? It wouldn’t be difficult, his finger nail would get the job done just fine. He wanted his ear to be perfect. But something about the speck of green-brown filth intrigued him. It was an interesting duality. Perfection with a blemish. It was somehow exactly how he saw himself. Absolutely flawless in every way, but carrying the impossible burden of a mistake. One small flaw, easily removed, but kept around because without it, the rest of his perfection might be overlooked. His eyes sparkled examining it further, right as he was interrupted by Deathstroke.
“What’s the ‘Destiny?’”
Luthor’s attention was instantly grabbed. He shoved the ear in his pocket and stood up in a flash.
“What about it?” Luthor asked, visibly growing concerned.
“What is it?” Deathstroke repeated. “Ra’s says it’s under attack by the Justice League.”
“No!” Luthor screamed. “No, no, no!”
“Calm down.”
“This cannot be happening, this CANNOT be happening!”
“Calm DOWN!” Slade ordered. “If you get your heart rate worked up you will definitely bleed to death.”
“This cannot happen, that train is carrying cargo that is absolutely essential to The Light’s plans!”
“Ok, what do you want me to do about it?”
“Stop them!”
“They’re in Nevada. Even if I got on a plane right now it would take me over five hours.”
“I don’t care! Do something! We need that train!” Luthor erupted. He stormed over to the nearest hallway table and kicked it over in one mad swing of his leg. “Does nobody have anything out there?! Ra’s has no soldiers in Nevada?! The god can’t get off his ass and do something?!”
“You want Teth-Adam himself to appear on scene?”
“I want everyone! I want every ounce of firepower we have defending my Destiny!”
“What’s on it?”
Luthor began screaming like a child and threw a temper tantrum to match one. He smashed his free hand into the wall and kicked so many holes it wore the leather off his shoe. He was about to turn back to Slade and start scolding when flashing red and white lights caught his attention. The ambulance had arrived and the paramedics were rushing towards the door with a gurney. Luthor knew his time to control this operation was limited. His window to act was closing, his next few words were paramount. He turned back to Slade and barked his next few orders.
“Tell Ra’s that if he doesn’t protect my train he can kiss goodbye to the greatest weapon ever created. He can say goodbye to his reliable and safe cross-country transportation method, he can wave farewell to reliable Kryptonite, and he can bid ado to his dreams of commanding an Amazo!”
Luthor then took off running, trying to meet the paramedics before they came up to this room and saw Deathstroke. Slade paused for a moment with his eyebrow upraised, before returning to his phone call with Ra’s.
“You get all that, old man?”
“I did.” Ra’s replied. “He didn’t say what this weapon was?”
“Not a clue.”
“Will he survive?”
“He’s with the EMT’s now.” Slade sighed. “Whether he’s lost so much blood he can’t be saved is entirely up to fate. He wouldn’t listen to me at all.”
“We knew his ego would be his weakness. I’ll make sure he has the best help.”
“If we lose him?”
“We’ll take what we can before the vultures get to him, and walk away from Lexcorp.”
“What do you want me to do about this train?”
“Nothing. This will serve as a lesson to Mr. Luthor. If he want’s to keep secrets from us, he will learn what comes of that behavior.”
“I can’t be on this scene anymore.”
“Return to Wonder City. A situation has progressed with the Joker, and I need your expertise.”
“Understood.”
Slade hung up the phone and leapt madly out the window, leaving the dismembered bodies of both the killer, and Landry. He swore to himself he would vet Luthor’s next assistant personally this time. He wasn’t going to have another slip up like this. Needless killings were exactly what got Batman on your heels the fastest,and if there’s one thing Deathstroke wasn’t ready for, it was Batman’s battle with him. He fired his grapple at a nearby rooftop and sailed away. He ran from rooftop to rooftop, keeping his eye on the sky the entire way for the man of steel. How had they not been caught? Landry’s screaming, Luthor firing his weapon, all that noise and Superman didn’t bother showing up? What kept him so busy? Slade didn’t know, and he wasn’t in the mood to press his luck.
“Just keep running.” He mumbled. “Just. Keep. Running.”