Chapter Text
❝ Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. ❞
Gone with the Wind.
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The lights flickered on and off with every door we passed along the narrow corridor. There was a faint smell of soot mixed with cheap rubbing alcohol—the kind you could find in any corner drugstore. At least the linoleum floor was spotless, judging by the way it gleamed under the dim, flickering light and the faint creak it gave with each step Dr. Sydney Happersen and I took. The little man beside me looked far too anxious, unsure of his own actions, which made me wonder how long it would take before I’d have to blackmail him again—to keep his tattooed lips sealed tight. Not that I was running short on money, but people’s inability to accept their own vile and wretched nature was starting to give me a burning sensation right behind the eyes.
It had been just over a week since I’d left Van Kull, and already I was having to deal with primates. Fascinating.
“How has our guest been behaving?” I finally asked, breaking the thin, fearful silence that had followed us ever since Mercy left us at the start of the corridor.
“Well…” Sydney began, squeezing the pen in his hand. His pace slowed just enough for me to know we’d had trouble with the little one in our facilities. If I have to transfer her to another lab, I might actually start scalping rats like my father—or perhaps dose her with sedatives like her former jailers used to do.
“She’s been less prone to… outbursts.” Less, but not entirely.
We passed by a room, and out of the corner of my right eye, for just a few seconds, I caught a glimpse through the window in the door—a black stain on the wall. Something told me that stain was the reason I had to march back and forth through this miserable, endless corridor. Damn aliens and their lack of self-control—worse than caged swallows looking for a way out.
“Cooperative?” I asked, finally making out the words written on the door at the end of the hall.
Dangerous Patient. No Entry.
A lovely reminder that aliens weren’t welcome here—nor should they be anywhere else. Just thinking that Superman was out there, flying in and out of buildings in Metropolis, was enough to make my skin boil with a seething, intoxicating rage. My hands trembled at the thought of wrapping around that perfect, unbreakable neck. I swallowed hard, forcing the murderous desire down. Behind that door was my chance at revenge.
“Hm… She’s been eating the meals we bring her, not throwing objects—or people—against the walls anymore. A major improvement!” Sydney offered a tense smile.
And that’s precisely why I still support brainwashing for people with low IQs.
We stopped in front of the door. The glass was frosted, so I couldn’t get a glimpse of my newest trap for defeating Superman.
“Are you sure about this, sir?”
I tilted my head slightly toward the scientist—just enough to make him gulp and regret ever asking. Weakling. A good lapdog, but still a weakling who liked to doubt. I still remembered how easily he’d handed me over to the authorities before crawling back, tail between his legs, once he heard I’d been transferred to Van Kull. That look on his face gave me fleeting satisfaction—everything was fleeting these days, meaningless, until I had Superman’s head in my hands. No matter what I had to do, no matter who I had to use.
“Open the door, Dr. Happersen,” I ordered.
The little man pulled a card from his lab coat pocket. With trembling fingers, he slid the thin card through the reader beside the door. With a soft beep, the red light turned green, and a metallic thud echoed through the corridor. The iron door screeched as it slid open, revealing a white, padded room—straight out of a madhouse.
In the far-right corner, I saw the bright, curly red hair that would soon be the source of all my pride.
A smile crept onto my lips before I could stop it.
“Miss Koriand’r,” I said, spreading my arms eloquently. “I’m Luthor. Lex Luthor.”
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ONE WEEK LATER
I adjusted my tie one last time. The cacophony of voices behind the door was like a balm to my ego. The same people who once put me behind bars were now crying out my name like starving baby birds waiting for me to drop food into their mouths—or better yet, a new headline into their cameras. It was astonishing how little the media cared about anything—much like the economy. What mattered was that money kept spinning in the hands of the vain and the powerful, like an old, rusted kaleidoscope: you couldn’t see the shapes anymore, but it still spun, gleaming just enough to make the rust look bright in the dark.
A perfect day for an announcement.
“I’m ready.” That irritating, preteen voice rang out—like the sound you hear before a plane hits the ground. Few things irritate me more than children or teenagers in general, but anything for my glorious plan.
I turned to face my future triumph. My victory over Superman.
Kory—because Koriand’r is just… ugh—stared at me with her wide green eyes, like an unsure fat frog. Her long red hair was tied in a French braid, a few strands loose to give her an air of charm, delicacy, and spontaneity. Exotic-looking, full lips, slightly flat nose, wearing a white blouse under pink overalls. She looked like one of those influencers posting an apology video after saying something stupid online. At least Eve had been useful for something—teaching me internet language, as she called it. The language of the shallow.
I forced a smile.
“You look beautiful!” The compliment slid off my tongue as easily as a trigger pull. “Mercy did an amazing job with your hair—look how stunning you are. You’re going to steal the spotlight.”
The praise made the girl smile. She was so easy to deceive it was almost boring. But what else could one expect from a girl abused for years by disgusting aliens? Children like her will take any crumb of affection—even from the devil’s hand. Hunger is funny that way—it makes you play pawn to your own feelings. Well, now little Kory was my pawn against that blue Boy Scout.
“Do you really think they’ll like me?” she asked, wringing her fingers together.
“Of course they will!” I assured her. “You’re a Luthor now. The public will adore you. They’ll want to be you. And no one will ever cage you or dim your light again.” I stepped behind her, gently resting my hands on her shoulders, guiding her to face her reflection in the mirror. “From this moment on, we’re unstoppable.”
Kory looked at herself, a spark of determination growing in her green eyes—a new fire, lit not by anger but by hope.
“Your sister will never hurt you again. No one will ever touch you again,” I promised. The words tasted like ashes—a lie wrapped as a vow.
I squeezed her shoulders. She held her breath, then released it in a long, shaky sigh. With her confidence newly restored, I let go.
“Shall we?” I asked, holding the door open for the alien girl to pass.
Kory nodded, walking with her shoulders straight, the posture of a general marching toward victory. That’s how I like it. Superman wouldn’t know what hit him. I followed behind her, buttoning the last button of my jacket. Even through the curtain, I could see the camera flashes—it would be quite the spectacle. Kory stopped in front of the gap between the drapes, watching the crowd. She swallowed hard; I could sense her nerves creeping back in. Keeping up her confidence would be hell—may God give Mercy the patience, because I certainly won’t.
I tapped her arm to get her attention, then extended my hand. The girl hesitated, expecting a bite that never came. Finally, she placed her hand in mine—her skin much warmer than mine, like a bowl of soup on a cold day. Almost comforting. Disgusting.
“Open the curtains,” I signaled.
The huge pale-blue drapes slid open slowly, revealing the stage and the two of us stepping toward the podium. The reporters didn’t even wait for the curtains to fully part before their cameras began flashing. Gasps and murmurs filled the LuthorCorp lobby. Magnificent—adoration incarnate.
Kory squeezed my hand, nervous, and I gave her a faint, apologetic smile.
“That’s the taste of fame, Kory. You’ll get used to it,” I whispered.
I helped her step onto the platform before taking my place at the podium, her by my side, half-hiding behind me. I released her hand—my palm damp with sweat, almost nauseating—and gripped the edges of the lectern.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming and taking the time to be here with us.” More flashes. It was incredible how well the “happy family” façade sold. “Today is a very special day—no less important than the day I found the reason to change and redeem myself for my past mistakes. It’s an honor to share this new chapter of my life with all of you.”
“It is with great pleasure that I introduce to you my adoptive daughter, Kory Luthor.”
I raised an arm to draw the cameras toward her. She caught the cue—at least she wasn’t clueless—and stepped out from behind me, fully visible under the flashing lights and the shocked stares of the vultures surrounding us. My smile grew wider. There it was—my ace in the hole. As seconds passed, voices rose, questions buzzed, and I saw a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Ah, she did enjoy the attention. She wasn’t so different—or special—after all.
I placed a hand on her shoulder. Her smile grew as she looked up at me. I had the urge to push her off the stage and let her learn the hard way—Mother always said getting hurt built character. The thought almost made me laugh. Memories came and went like the wind. The girl turned back to wave at the cameras—a rising star in the making.
“Please, please—Mr. Luthor will take one question at a time!” one of my assistants tried to calm the chaos.
I scanned the crowd of heads before me. The I pointed to a red-haired woman with freckles, a lilac blouse, and analytical eyes—front row of the vultures. She stood up automatically, following the well-worn script of every press conference: question and answer.
“Iris West, Galaxy Magazine, Central City,” she announced, notepad in hand, pen tucked behind her ear. “How old is your daughter, Mr. Luthor?”
“Kory is fourteen—she’ll turn fifteen next month.” I paused, then added, “And we’re planning a big party to celebrate that milestone in her life.”
“What made you decide to adopt her?” came another question.
“Well, after my time in Van Kull, I realized I needed to find myself again. My life was lonely, which drove me into… situations I’m not proud of—situations that hurt our city. I assure you that won’t happen again. My focus now is entirely on raising my daughter. Kory is an incredible girl—I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I hadn’t taken her in. She saved me as much as I saved her.”
What a painful lie to say out loud.
“Lex! Over here!” a woman shouted before I could pick another vulture. For crying out loud—some people have no manners.
I lowered my gaze to the third row, fourth seat from the right. There she was—Vicki Vale. The insufferable nuisance herself. Who the hell let her in?
“Go ahead, Miss Vale,” I said, almost through gritted teeth. Control is the hardest virtue—after patience.
“Thank you…” she stood, brushing her skirt. The leopard-print blouse was so tacky it almost made me pity her. “I think everyone here shares the same question—how did you two meet?”
“That’s… a complicated and tragic story,” I sighed deeply.
I slid an arm around Kory’s shoulders. She leaned in, and the cameras clicked wildly.
“Kory comes from a place far beyond Earth. She lost her parents, and her sister stole her birthright—selling her into slavery.” A chorus of gasps—just as planned. “Kory spent years trapped among monsters—forced to fight for her life before she managed to escape and find her way to Earth. My team found her—lost, alone, and wounded.”
I bowed my head as if the memory pained me deeply. Honestly, it was the dullest story I’d ever heard. Still, everyone seemed touched.
“When I saw her, I couldn’t help but care for her—to protect her—to give her a better life, different and fairer than the one that was stolen from her.” I lifted my head. “And now, we have great plans for the world to see just how extraordinary she truly is. As a father, nothing makes me prouder than knowing how strong she is.”
Applause. Cheers. Cries of “inspiration.” Amazing—how short the herd’s memory can be.
Then, in the middle of it all, someone raised a hand. A man.
“Please, settle down!” the assistant shouted.
I pointed toward the man.
He stood up—a man with wavy hair, crooked glasses, and eyes as blue as a summer sky over the countryside. His suit was secondhand, his demeanor humble and uncertain, with the air of someone new to city life. He looked… too human.
“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” he introduced himself.
Never heard of him. Is Perry White sending fresh meat into the lion’s den? Bold move.
“What is this plan you mentioned, Mr. Luthor?”
Smart boy.
I exchanged a knowing glance with Kory before stepping aside. The girl moved to the center of the stage. With a deep breath, she began to float—up and up—until she nearly reached the second-floor balcony. Her hands glowed with bright neon-green energy spheres. She looked straight out of an animated movie.
Perfect.
I raised a hand toward her, eyes locked on Clark Kent.
“For her to become a hero, of course.”
And the room exploded.