I stared blankly at the giant, mechanical nutcracker slamming itself against LexCorp's external defense grid, its oversized wooden jaws snapping at thin air, trying to push through the barrier.
"Is this April Fools, did I take too many mentats? What exactly am I looking at?" I asked, voice flat, watching the ridiculous spectacle unfold on my holographic display.
Adam responded without a trace of amusement.
"It appears that the villain known as Toyman is attempting to steal materials from LexCorp's tower."
I resisted the urge to rub my temples.
The so-called genius whose idea of high-tech crime involved massive, cartoonish death toys instead of practical weaponry.
But despite the absurd presentation, Toyman was still a threat—a dangerous one. His machines, while theatrical, were always lethal, his body count is around a few hundred, being one of the oldest metropolis villains, starting in the 80's.
I watched as automated turrets locked onto the target, sending a hail of Gauss rounds into the wooden monstrosity, sparks flying from the impact points. The nutcracker lurched, its decorative red-and-gold exterior cracking from the repeated hits—
But then, it kept coming.
"Mercy, tell me I'm not about to spend my afternoon dealing with this lunatic."
She sighed over the comms. "Well, unless you want to let him get away with several million dollars' worth of high-end LexCorp alloys, then yes, you're going to have to deal with this lunatic."
I dragged a hand down my face, muttering under my breath.
"Roy, how long until security neutralizes the target?"
His response pinged directly through my cybernetics, his calm, professional tone unchanged.
"Projected time: twenty minutes. The turrets are softening up the main unit, but Toyman deployed support units. He's got heavily armed toy soldiers engaging the security forces. They will hold but this might take a minute."
I tapped my fingers against the desk, considering my options.
Then I made my decision.
"Deploy the security team. I want a full squad of Synth troopers on the ground—give them clearance to eliminate all hostiles. I want this wrapped up before the hour's over."
"Understood. Executing orders."
The ground trembled as the LexCorp shield briefly flickered, allowing twelve armored Synths to storm onto the battlefield in perfect formation.
Toyman's toy soldiers opened fire, but it was pointless.
These weren't normal security forces.
These were my security forces.
Every single one of them had been upgraded, equipped with top-of-the-line cybernetic enhancements, turning them into walking war machines.
Armored skin absorbed gunfire, redirecting the force harmlessly.
Neurolinked targeting systems let them track enemies with inhuman precision, their plasma rifles tearing through the toy soldiers in an instant.
The battlefield shifted in seconds.
One Synth leaped onto a giant toy tank, ripping open the hatch before tossing a high-explosive charge inside—blowing it apart from the inside out.
Another unit activated a stealth field, vanishing from sight before reappearing behind enemy lines, taking out three hostiles with her katana before they could react, her Sandevistan making her seem like a blur.
It was surgical. Brutal. Efficient.
Exactly as planned.
High above the battlefield, Roy stood on a rooftop, perched with inhuman stillness, his Gauss sniper rifle locked onto Toyman's position.
His vision was crisp, enhanced by his own cybernetics, tracking the villain's every move.
Toyman stood atop his staggering, damaged Nutcracker, wildly gesturing as he screamed at his crumbling army.
"You useless piles of junk! Keep fighting! We're not leaving empty-handed!"
Roy exhaled slowly, his synthetic muscles perfectly steady as he adjusted the rifle's scope.
His targeting system lined up the shot.
A single pull of the trigger and Toyman's reign of stupidity would end for good.
A clean shot.
One second, he'd be screaming orders—the next, he'd have a smoking hole between his eyes.
Roy's finger hovered over the trigger, waiting.
"Permission to eliminate the target?" he asked, his voice completely neutral.
I watched through the feed, weighing my options.
A dead Toyman meant no repeat offenses. No more absurd mechanical monstrosities breaking into my facilities.
But a living Toyman?
That meant a message could be sent.
A lesson.
I tapped my fingers against the armrest, considering.
And then, I made my choice.
"Shoot to kill."
The words left my mouth, cold and absolute.
Roy didn't hesitate.
The Gauss sniper fired, the supersonic slug ripping through the air, a projectile moving faster than the speed of sound, engineered to tear through tank armor like paper.
Toyman never saw it coming.
And he never would.
But at the very last second—
A blue and red blur streaked into the shot's path.
The round slammed into an outstretched hand, stopping dead in its tracks.
Superman hovered mid-air, the bullet crushed between his fingers, his piercing gaze locked onto the sniper's position.
Even through the live feed, I could feel the weight of that look.
Roy, still perched on the rooftop, lowered his rifle slightly, his mechanical enhancements adjusting to the impossible turn of events.
"Target interference detected," he reported, his tone completely flat.
I exhaled slowly, watching as Superman's expression darkened, his jaw tightening.
"Roy, stand by. Do not engage."
"Acknowledged."
Superman wasn't alone either—
The Justice League was arriving.
The moment Superman intercepted the shot, the situation changed.
I watched through the live feed, expression neutral, as he tossed the crushed Gauss slug aside, his cape billowing behind him.
And then, like clockwork, the rest of the Justice League arrived.
Wonder Woman landed with a thunderous impact, immediately ripping apart one of Toyman's remaining toy soldiers, her blade cleaving through its metal frame like butter.
The Flash blurred into motion, weaving through LexCorp's security forces, disassembling another dozen mechanical minions in mere seconds.
Even Batman was here, descending from a grapple line, tossing explosive batarangs that immobilized the last few rogue machines.
Within minutes, the battlefield shifted.
What was once a controlled engagement led by my Synth security forces was now a cooperative effort between LexCorp and the Justice League.
Roy, still perched at his sniper position, remained still. Watching. Calculating.
I tapped my fingers against the desk, eyes narrowing.
Superman floated toward the ground, his gaze flicking between the remnants of the battlefield and LexCorp's Synth security squad, assessing them with heavy scrutiny.
Eventually, he landed near Toyman, who was now pinned beneath the wreckage of his own machine, groaning in pain.
I switched the feed to one of my external speakers, my voice broadcasting clearly across the field.
"Well, I suppose I should say 'thank you' for the assistance."
Superman's gaze snapped up toward the nearest camera, his expression neutral, but firm.
"We were already monitoring Toyman. His attack on LexCorp was reckless, but your methods—" he paused, glancing toward the Synth forces, "—were just as concerning."
"Oh, come now, Superman. You didn't expect me to sit back and let my facility get torn apart, did you? I'd think you, of all people, would appreciate a proactive defense."
Superman didn't respond immediately, but his expression hardened slightly.
Wonder Woman, however, spoke next.
"Your forces fight with great efficiency. These… soldiers."
She gestured toward my Synth security, their cybernetic enhancements gleaming under the floodlights of the facility.
"They are unlike any military unit I've seen. Who commands them, they must be a mighty commander?"
I glanced toward Roy's live feed, still monitoring from his elevated position.
I could tell he was waiting for my response.
"They're under my command, of course," I replied smoothly. "LexCorp security must evolve with the times. Criminals are more advanced than ever—my forces simply reflect the need to counter such threats."
Batman, still standing near the wreckage, spoke for the first time.
"There's a difference between security and an army, Luthor."
I smiled.
"Is there? Because from where I'm standing, I just watched your League do exactly what my security forces were already doing. The only difference? My soldiers don't need capes."
Superman folded his arms, his posture firm.
"Toyman is in custody. We'll take him from here. But we're not done with this conversation, Luthor."
I tilted my head slightly, amused.
"Oh, I have no doubt, Superman. But until then—welcome to the future."
I cut the transmission, leaving the League to deal with their cleanup efforts.
Behind me, Adam's voice echoed in my ear.
"Projected outcome: increased scrutiny from the Justice League. Recommendation: Adjust strategy."
I leaned back in my chair, smirking.
"Let them watch. No court on earth would prosecute me."
I paused, my fingers drumming against the desk as Eve's voice carried through the comms.
"Sir, one more thing… an invitation has just arrived. The Light is requesting your presence for a meeting. In person."
That got my attention.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. The Light.
I had expected them to make a move eventually.
But now? Right after Toyman's little fiasco and the League's sudden interest in LexCorp?
That was interesting.
"Location?" I asked.
"The encryption has been cracked," Adam replied smoothly. "Coordinates place the meeting in Mongolia. Remote. Isolated. Minimal external interference. Logically chosen."
Roy's voice came through the channel next, calm, professional.
"It's a setup. But an expected one."
I smirked. "Naturally. The real question is: how bold are they feeling?"
"Bold enough to invite you into their den," Eve added. "That implies confidence. They believe they hold the advantage in a face-to-face meeting."
The Light didn't seem to be the type to offer invitations freely.
This was either a recruitment attempt—or a test of loyalty.
Likely both.
Adam followed up.
"Declining outright would place you on their adversarial list. However, going alone would be strategically unwise."
"Then I won't be alone," I said, already finalizing my decision.
I turned to Roy's live feed, seeing him still in his overwatch position, rifle disassembled as he awaited further orders.
"Prep a team. Twelve Synths. Full combat loadout."
"Heavy or standard?" Roy asked without hesitation.
"Heavy," I responded. "If they wanted a friendly chat, they would've picked neutral ground. I'm not walking in blind. Power armor, Heavy cyberware, a netrunner, the works."
Eve's voice hummed in my ear.
"A show of force could be seen as provocation."
I grinned.
"Good. Let them think twice."
Adam simply acknowledged the order.
"Assembling reinforcements. ETA for full preparation: Two hours."
Roy's voice crackled through the comms again.
"And if they decide to make a move on you?"
I smirked.
"Then we make an example out of them, a full decapitation strike."
I started leaving the room but I paused when I got to the doorway, "Oh, and Roy? Next time use a laser"
"How long is this going to take?" I asked, half-exasperated, half-amused, as my so-called fashion team fussed around me like a pack of obsessive artists.
They had apparently gotten enraptured by the fashion pieces I pulled from my mind, barely registering the fact that I had an actual mission to prepare for.
And now?
I was their newest canvas.
My reflection in the full-length mirror revealed their latest masterpiece—Neomilitarism draped in absolute precision.
A stylish blazer, sleek, form-fitting, but reinforced with cutting-edge materials. Beneath it, a red undershirt, pulsing faintly with embedded luminescent fibers, making the fabric seem alive with energy.
At first glance, it looked like an expensive, high-fashion ensemble.
At second glance?
It was a walking fortress.
The soft, bullet-resistant polymer woven into the suit blended seamlessly with my nano-plated subdermal armor, ensuring that if something went down in Mongolia, I wouldn't go down with it.
I turned slightly, examining my exposed forearm, where silvery lights pulsed faintly beneath my skin, tiny cybernetic nodes reacting to the subtle shift in movement.
The fashion team took a step back, admiring their work like sculptors studying a nearly finished statue.
Victor, the dramatic lead designer, adjusted the angle of my collar by precisely half an inch before stepping back, nodding in satisfaction.
"Perfect, Father," he declared, as though he had just finished painting the Sistine Chapel.
I exhaled. "Finally. You all act like I'm walking onto a runway, not into a potential ambush."
Celeste, one of the others, smirked as she handed me a pair of gloves lined with discreet tactile enhancements.
"Why not both?"
I shook my head but took the gloves anyway.
Mercy, who had been watching from the sidelines with a mildly entertained expression, finally stepped forward.
"Looking sharp, sweetheart. Now, can we focus on the part where you're about to walk into a supervillain meeting?"
I flexed my fingers, feeling the fabric move seamlessly with the enhancements beneath my skin.
"Relax, Mercy. If they think they have the upper hand, they're about to learn otherwise."
I turned from the mirror, the synth security team already waiting for me.
"Let's go pay the Light a visit."
Vandal Savage steepled his fingers, his gaze scanning the table, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
"Let us proceed."
The gathered members of the Light sat in calculated silence, the room's dim glow casting shadows against the black stone walls.
There was a notable absence, though one they had expected.
The seat once occupied by Lex Luthor remained empty.
In its place sat Black Manta, his helmeted face unreadable, his posture stiff. He had been chosen to fill the void left behind by Luthor's passing, yet there was no mistaking the truth—he was a placeholder, nothing more.
The Light had suffered greatly from the loss of Luthor's influence, resources, and brilliance.
And his son?
James Luthor had ignored them completely.
Ra's al Ghul, the ninja, spoke first.
"We have been patient long enough. He refuses to acknowledge us. We have ample means to bring him to heel. Lex Luthor left behind many secrets—secrets that his son would not want exposed."
His piercing gaze swept the table.
"We must remind him where his allegiances should lie."
Queen Bee, however, merely smirked, lounging in her chair.
"Threats are effective, but not always necessary. The boy is ambitious. That much is clear. What he lacks is guidance."
She gestured toward the holographic display, where video feeds from LexCorp's security footage played.
The Toyman attack, which they orchestrated.
The Justice League intervention.
LexCorp security forces cutting through mechanical soldiers with brutality—weapons and technology beyond even their estimations.
Black Manta's helmet tilted slightly as he observed the footage.
"His security forces are more advanced than we anticipated."
Savage nodded, his ancient expression unreadable.
"Indeed. And they will only grow stronger. The boy has been left unchecked for too long."
Queen Bee leaned forward, a knowing smile on her lips.
"He is already coming to us. The invitation has been sent."
Black Manta turned slightly, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the air.
"And he accepted?"
She chuckled. "Yes. He is on his way."
And at that exact moment—
The air behind them shimmered.
A low hum filled the chamber as the space behind the table warped, twisted—
And then, with a crackle of blue energy, reality ripped open.
James Luthor teleported directly behind them.
He wasn't alone.
Heavily armored soldiers materialized beside him, their forms sleek, metal plating gleaming under the dim lights.
Their armor was a perfect fusion of military engineering and cybernetic augmentation, they didn't know this but most of Chrome squad received the full Borg treatment, their movements fluid, and inhumanly precise, except for one, who was wearing a black full-body leotard with an oversized visor on her.
Their weapons?
Futuristic rifles, plasma weaponry, heavy ordinance, and the woman carrying a katana—all primed and ready.
The Light members reacted instantly, some reaching for weapons, others tensing—
But James simply smirked, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Sorry for being late. Traffic was crazy."
Savage's eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm.
James didn't stop.
His boots echoed against the cold floor as he strode toward the table, his soldiers moving in perfect synchronization beside him.
He didn't look at Savage.
He did look at Queen Bee but only for a minute.
No.
He locked eyes with Black Manta.
And then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he gestured to the seat Manta occupied and said:
"Get out of my seat."
The room tensed further.
Manta didn't move.
For a second, the tension was palpable, a thread ready to snap.
But James?
James Luthor was not asking.
His soldiers raised their weapons just slightly, not in outright aggression—but in promise.
And in that moment, Manta understood.
Without a word, he stood.
James smirked, stepping forward, letting the moment hang in the air before sliding into his rightful seat at the table.
Lex Luthor's seat.
I settled into my father's seat, my fingers tapping lightly against the cold stone of the table as the room sat in silence.
Behind me, my security team remained at attention, their armored figures casting long shadows across the chamber. Weapons lowered, but ready.
I let the moment stretch, watching them watch me.
The power dynamic had shifted the moment I arrived.
Savage sat at the head of the table, his immortal gaze unreadable.
Ra's al Ghul was studying me carefully, his hands folded neatly together.
Queen Bee, a picture of casual amusement, traced a finger along the edge of the table, but her eyes were sharp— locking them in my eyes, a bit creepy to be honest.
Black Manta stood to the side now, removed from the seat he had briefly occupied, his posture stiff. Silent. Watching.
It was Vandal Savage who finally broke the silence.
"You ignored our outreach. Until now."
I shrugged, leaning back slightly and putting my feet on the table. "Busy. Running a company. But I figured it was time to see what exactly you wanted from me."
Savage held my gaze for a long moment before responding.
"You already know what we want. Alexander Luthor was a valuable member of this council. His loss was… unfortunate."
I exhaled slowly, my eyes shifting to the holographic display at the center of the table.
It was still showing Toyman's attack on LexCorp. The Justice League's interference.
"This invitation," I said, voice casual, "it wasn't about recruitment, was it? It was a test."
No one denied it.
Queen Bee's smirk deepened slightly.
Ra's al Ghul gave a small nod.
"And?" I asked, raising a brow.
Savage's lips curled slightly, an almost imperceptible smirk.
"You handled yourself well. But that does not mean you understand what is at stake."
I tilted my head slightly, studying him.
"I think I understand plenty."
Savage didn't respond right away.
Instead, he simply leaned forward, his fingers steepling together as he watched me carefully.
"Then let's talk, Luthor."
I rested my chin on my fist, my gaze drifting lazily across the table.
"You know," I started, voice casual, almost bored, "out of all of you, only one of you actually intimidates me."
That got their attention.
Ra's raised a brow, Ocean Master made a face under his helmet, Queen Bee's lips curled in amusement, the Brain said something in french, and even Black Manta tilted his head slightly.
Savage simply watched.
"And who would that be?" he asked.
I gestured toward the corner of the room, where Klarion the Witch Boy sat hunched over, absentmindedly picking his nose.
The chaos lord grinned as he flicked whatever he'd found into the shadows. "Awww, that's sweet!" he cackled. "Most people don't respect me enough to be afraid until it's too late!"
I didn't respond.
Because, unlike the others, he wasn't bound by logic, or ambition, or even basic human comprehension.
Queen Bee let out a soft, sultry chuckle, drawing my attention back to her as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.
"And me, young Luthor?" she purred, her voice smooth, practiced in its seductive charm. "Do I not… intimidate you?"
I snorted.
"Not really."
Her expression didn't change.
"Look, Queen, I'm sure you've got some powerful pheromones, but let's be real—you're, what? Mid-to-late thirties? Maybe early forties?"
Her smirk twitched.
"You wound me, James."
I grinned, leaning back. "Flattering, really. But let's not pretend we're in the same age bracket."
Klarion burst out laughing.
"Ooooooh, I like this one!"Nice, plan make the extra dimensional creature like you look like a success.
Savage merely watched the exchange with mild amusement, before Ra's al Ghul cleared his throat, bringing the room back to focus.
"Enough distractions," Ra's said, his tone measured. "You have potential, James. But potential alone is not enough to secure your place here. Your father understood this. Do you?"
"That depends," I said, shrugging. "Are we talking about business, power, or whatever secret handshakes you guys have?"
Black Manta spoke next, his distorted voice low and commanding.
"Your security forces. You've built them fast. Too fast. Where is your supply chain? Your production line? They would accelerate the Light plans by several years."
I smirked. "Trade secrets, Manta. Can't give away all my cards."
Queen Bee was next.
"What of the League? Their eyes are on you now. What will you do when they act?"
"Simple." I folded my hands together. "Let them react first. The League only moves when forced to. If they come for me, it's on my terms."
Savage nodded slightly, his expression unreadable.
Ra's, however, leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting.
"You think you are untouchable, Luthor. That is a dangerous assumption."
I arched my brow. "Oh? And what's the alternative? That I grovel? Beg to be part of your little club?"
Ra's merely smirked. "No. But a demonstration is in order. You are confident. Perhaps too confident. That must be tempered."
He gestured with one hand.
The doors to the chamber slid open silently, and a man stepped inside.
Broad-shouldered, masked, dressed in tactical gear—armed to the teeth.
"Sportsmaster."
I stared at him for a moment.
Then, I burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry—hold on." I held up a hand, wiping at my eye. "You mean to tell me… that your personal assassin… is named Sportsmaster?"
Sportsmaster's hands clenched into fists.
I couldn't stop chuckling. "What's next? Chess wizard? Checkerslord? Maybe dick's raider?"
Queen Bee covered her mouth to hide her amusement.
Even Klarion wheezed.
Sportsmaster, however, looked ready to snap my neck.
"You think I'm a joke, kid?" he growled. "Let's see if you're still laughing after I put you on the ground."
I grinned. "Oh, you wanna fight? Sure. Let's fight."
Ra's gave a small nod, clearly pleased.
I turned, gesturing toward my squad.
"Victoria, you're up."
One of my Synths stepped forward, a lithe, cybernetically enhanced soldier wearing a sleek black bodysuit—a netrunner, enhanced for close combat.
She unsheathed her Saturnite katana, the superheated edge humming with energy, her enhanced fingers traced the blade.
I leaned back in my chair, grinning.
"Alright, Sportsmaster. Let's see if you can handle her."
The room shifted, the long council table retracting into the floor, leaving a wide-open space for the duel.
Ra's al Ghul himself stood between the two combatants, assuming the role of referee.
Sportsmaster cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, his stance loose, but predatory.
Across from him, Victoria stood motionless, her black leotard clinging to her form like a second skin, the faint glow of her cybernetics pulsing beneath the surface.
She didn't fidget.
Didn't show a hint of tension.
She was calm, surgical—cold as the implants enhancing her form.
Ra's slowly raised a hand, looking between them.
"A test of skill. No weapons past the first blood. No interference. Fight with honor."
The room watched in silence.
Even Savage, though normally apathetic to such displays, seemed interested in the outcome, must be his ancient caveman brain doing the talking.
Ra's lowered his hand.
"Begin."
Sportsmaster exploded forward, his speed impressive, his combat instincts sharp.
His batons whipped through the air, one striking for Victoria's ribs, the other going for a feint toward her shoulder.
A blur of black and silver.
Victoria moved.
Not dodging. Not blocking. Moving.
Her Sandevistan engaged instantly, her perception of time accelerating, the world slowing down around her.
To her, Sportsmaster was sluggish, predictable, an amateur trying to swat at a shadow.
She simply stepped aside, her blade flashing once—
A clean, precise cut.
The batons split in half, clattering to the ground before Sportsmaster even registered the loss.
His eyes widened slightly, but he adapted fast, switching to hand-to-hand combat.
Victoria didn't even blink.
She moved again, a single step bringing her behind him, the edge of her katana resting lightly against the back of his neck.
The entire table watched in silence.
Sportsmaster gritted his teeth, twisting to strike, but the moment he moved—
Another flash of steel.
His legs staggered as the tip of her blade pressed lightly against his inner thigh—right next to the femoral artery.
A clear, unspoken message.
She could have killed him.
Twice now.
Sportsmaster growled, shifting again—
Another blur.
Now the katana's tip pressed against his kidney.
Then his throat again.
Then his heart.
Then his wrist.
Each time he moved, she was faster.
Each attack was interrupted before it even began—her sword resting on a new vital point.
It wasn't a duel anymore.
It was a slaughter.
A demonstration of overwhelming superiority.
Sportsmaster was a seasoned assassin, a veteran killer.
But he was human.
And Victoria was not.
I, still seated in my father's chair, let out a mock yawn.
"Alright, Victoria, cut it out. Finish this."
Victoria tilted her head slightly, as if considering.
Then, in a single motion, her blade sliced through Sportsmaster's mask, cleaving it clean in half, revealing his shocked expression beneath.
She didn't stop there.
With blinding speed, she moved past him, her sword flashing in a blur.
A series of lightning-fast cuts.
Fabric shredded.
Armor fell apart piece by piece.
By the time she stopped, Sportsmaster was still standing—but completely stripped of his tactical gear, his protective plating reduced to ribbons, his combat suit hanging in tatters.
Victoria stepped back, her blade still humming with residual heat from the high speeds, while Sportsmaster stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
I finally stood from my chair, stretching my arms lazily.
"Huh." I smirked. "Guess the name really does say it all. You play sports. You don't fight."
A few chuckles echoed through the room.
Even Klarion was wheezing with laughter, kicking his legs like a child.
Savage finally spoke, his tone dry but amused.
"Impressive."
Victoria simply sheathed her blade, stepping back to my side, unbothered and efficient, just as she was designed to be.
Her cybernetic eyes flickered softly, scanning the room for threats, though none remained.
She turned to me, her voice calm, almost childish.
"Did I do good, Father?"
It was just a simple request for evaluation.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a small nod of approval.
"You did, child." My voice was steady, a quiet, measured tone that carried certainty. "You did very well, in fact."
Victoria nodded once, accepting the praise as fact, then resumed her silent vigilance at my side.
I rolled my shoulders, exhaling slightly before turning back to the table, where the Light's members were still seated—some intrigued, some unimpressed, and some… clearly reassessing their opinions of me.
"Well." I said, letting the weight of the moment settle. "Now that we've established that I don't take threats lightly—shall we get back to business?"
Savage's gaze met mine, his expression impassive, but calculating.
Ra's al Ghul was unreadable, though I could tell he was rethinking his previous assumptions.
Queen Bee? Still smirking, tapping a single painted fingernail against the table, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Klarion? He was grinning wide, his sharp teeth flashing as if he had just seen the most entertaining thing in weeks.
Black Manta had remained silent, his helmeted gaze fixed on me, unmoving, unreadable.
I turned my attention to him directly.
"Something on your mind, Manta?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he simply tilted his head slightly before speaking, his modulated voice carrying no emotion.
"Just wondering if you have the spine to match your arrogance."
I grinned.
"Bold words for someone that dresses as an aquatic animal to fight Atlanteans."
Then, Savage spoke, his deep, ancient voice cutting through the air.
"Very well, Luthor. Let's see if your actions live up to your words."
I simply smirked, leaning back in my chair, completely at ease.
"Oh, don't worry, Savage. I always deliver, that's the Lexcorp guarantee."
Then, Ra's al Ghul leaned forward, his fingers steepled, his voice smooth and measured.
"Let's dispense with the theatrics. You came here, Luthor, so you must have some interest in working with us. The question is—how far does that interest extend?"
I exhaled slowly, pretending to consider, though we both knew I had already made my decision before setting foot here.
"That depends, Ra's. You called me here because you need something from me. That means I have leverage. So let's not pretend this is some one-sided arrangement."
Queen Bee smirked, amused.
"Bold. But not incorrect."
I folded my hands together, my gaze sweeping across the assembled members of the Light.
"You lost my father. A genius, a strategist, and the financial powerhouse behind a good chunk of your operations. You want me to fill that void."
Savage remained impassive, but I could tell I was right.
Ra's didn't confirm, but he didn't deny it either.
I continued.
"The way I see it, you're all a little weaker without him. Your plans? Your influence? They're still there, but without a financial juggernaut and a research division feeding you cutting-edge technology, you're running at a loss."
Queen Bee chuckled. "And you are offering to be our new benefactor?"
I smirked.
"I'm offering to be… an ally. On my terms."
That made them pause.
Black Manta, who had been silent since giving up his seat, finally spoke.
"And what are those terms?"
I exhaled, leaning forward slightly.
"First? I don't take orders. I don't answer to anyone at this table. If we work together, it's a partnership."
Savage nodded slowly, like he expected that.
"Second? You don't touch LexCorp. My company remains mine. You want resources? You ask. You don't take."
Ra's arched a brow but said nothing.
"Third? No forced loyalty. If I decide your plans are idiotic—like, let's say, trying to crash the world's economy so it collapses into chaos—you can expect me to sit that one out."
Klarion giggled, kicking his legs like a child. "Ooooooh, I like him! This one has a spine!"
Queen Bee gave a soft laugh, but Ra's and the Brain weren't as amused.
Savage, however, simply watched.
He was weighing something. Calculating.
Finally, he spoke.
"LexCorp has been expanding at an exponential rate. Your technological advancements are surpassing even our initial projections. That is… impressive."
Queen Bee added, "You are attracting attention. The League is already watching you. It is only a matter of time before they act."
I exhaled dramatically. "Oh no. Whatever will I do?"
Ra's ignored my sarcasm. "If you align with us, we can ensure that the League does not interfere in your operations. In return, you would provide us with access to select LexCorp resources."
There it was.
I had expected a demand, but instead, they were offering protection.
Interesting.
I leaned back, fingers tapping against the table.
"And if I refuse?"
Savage's expression remained unreadable.
"Then you remain alone. The League will come for you eventually. And if they do—"
"They'll fail." I finished for him, smirking.
Savage studied me, his gaze lingering before he gave a small nod.
"Perhaps. But even the strongest empire cannot stand forever without allies. Choose wisely, Luthor."
I let his words sit in the air.
Then, finally, I exhaled.
"Alright. Here's my counteroffer."
The table stiffened slightly.
I smirked, enjoying the shift.
"I'll consider collaborating with the Light. But on my terms. You don't get access to my full arsenal, you don't get a leash on LexCorp, and you certainly don't get to dictate how I operate."
I let my eyes flick across the room.
"You want access to certain tech? Fine. But I choose what. And if anyone tries to backstab me—"
I gestured vaguely to Sportsmaster, still standing there, humiliated and fuming.
"Well. You saw what happened last time, try fighting twenty of them teleporting to your shitter."
The brain said something in french. Klarion grinned wider.
Savage gave a slow nod.
"Very well, Luthor. Let's see what you bring to the table."
I smirked, tilting my head.
"Pleasure doing business with you. Expect a curated list sent to you soon." I let the words hang in the air, my smirk never faltering. "Don't worry, we will find you."
I moved to rise from my chair but then paused, something coming to mind. My eyes flicked to Queen Bee, who had been watching me with that ever-present, knowing smirk.
"Oh, and Queen Bee? Expect a visit from LexCorp Aid."
Her smirk deepened, intrigue flashing across her face.
"Bialya would be an excellent test case for the wonders of technology that I'm bringing to the world."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "How generous of you, Luthor. Humanitarian aid? Or something else?"
I tilted my head slightly, letting the ambiguity linger.
"Let's just say… the world need a taste first."
Savage's expression remained unreadable, but I could tell the wheels were turning in his ancient mind.
Klarion? He just grinned, clearly entertained.
I adjusted my cuffs, giving the table one last glance.
"Well. This has been productive. I'll be in touch."
With that, I tapped the communicator on my wrist.
A low hum filled the air, the teleportation matrix activating, blue energy crackling as the field engulfed me and my security team.
For a split second, the world blurred, and then—
We were gone.
In an instant, we rematerialized inside LexCorp HQ, the familiar glow of the teleportation pads fading behind us.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, feeling the shift from that stale underground lair to the clean, humming energy of my empire.
Roy and Mercy were already waiting in the executive suite, watching as I stepped off the platform, my synth guards falling back into position.
"That went well," I said, cracking my neck. "Time to get back to work".