Chapter Text
YEAR: 2017
Like the Capulets and the Montagues: the Luthors and the Grants were two households both alike in dignity. In fair National City, where we lay our scene.
Ancient grudges, new mutinies between a family of foes, continued by the two heiresses: Lena Kieran Luthor and Kara Zora Grant.
—
Kara Zora Grant, perfectly groomed and dressed for the event hosted by the mayor, stood on a pair of deadly stilettos and weaved her way expertly and gracefully through the crowd of National City’s finest: politicians, business moguls, TV personalities, and more.
All of them wore practiced smiles and almost all of them held a flute of champagne, obnoxiously toasting each other on one triumph or another— which mostly involved decimating another attendee who would then be glaring at them.
Kara waved to familiar faces and exchanged a few words with the generous investors of Grant Global, the media (CatCo), political, and now real estate development empire (having systematically taken over Edge Global, a feat that Kara still prided herself on) that her adoptive mother, the eponymous and celebrated Cat Grant had headed.
But, Kara Zora Grant, was not searching for pleasantries. She was searching for something else— someone else. Someone that she could pick out from a crowd, anywhere. Anytime. And it may have taken a while to find her— but finally, it was her.
The Luthor Heiress: the vicious Medusa of the boardroom, who could freeze those weak at heart with a single viridian glance, the Queen of technological development in LuthorCorp, the world chess champion, 6 years running, and more.
Lena Kieran Motherfucking Luthor.
Who was currently joining the festivities, having now just entered through the main entrance.
Kara, unable to stop a most predatory grin from curling her lips, felt her fingers flex at the desire to grab hard onto the beautiful young woman’s shoulders, pull her in close, and—
— slap her arrogant face.
That bitch.
That puffed-up penguin.
She went behind my fucking back and slid her perfect— slender-fingered hands on the property that was supposed to be mine!
I looooathe that fucking gorgeous face of hers!
And in that moment, the stunning woman who held Kara’s undivided attention looked up and faced her squarely, as if summoned by her violent thoughts. In a second, their eyes met, and Lena, tightly clad in a beautiful, asymmetrically cut, dark green dress that simply flaunted her ample chest, began to smoothly glide towards her, a pompous pep to her step.
Instinctively, Kara straightened up and pulled back her shoulders, preparing herself for a battle that she intentionally sought.
“Princess of Media. Kara Zora Grant,” Lena grinned coquettishly, thoroughly pleased with herself, as she stopped a mere foot away from the taller woman. “I honestly thought you would be more humble by now, but it seems like things really haven’t changed since boarding school. You still ride mightily on your fifty-foot high horse and happily look down on everyone else around you.”
“Lena Kieran Luthor,” the gorgeous blonde sneered back, as she stepped closer, their faces now only a few inches apart, their voices hushed to keep the other high-enders from eavesdropping so easily on their sharp back-and-forth. “You silver-tongued raddish, you flatter me just about as much as you annoy me. How are you? Still unsuccessfully trying to climb into innocent women’s beds with mommy and daddy’s money? Tell me,” she paused and pretended to rub her thumb against her middle and pointer fingers, “how many escorts do you hire instead to satisfy your trust-fund baby needs?”
“Wow,” Lena mouthed. “That’s ridiculously rich coming from the tennis star who used her position as captain to insidiously seduce as many girls as she won tournaments. Which— was a lot.”
“Watched quite a bit of them, didn’t you? How many times did you try to peek up my skirt, voyeur?”
“About as many times as you’ve tried to look down my blouse, miss-I-spy.”
“I only seem to do that because you’re so short, you vertically-challenged glass of milk,” Kara hissed, stubbornly ignoring the perfectly flawless skin she had just referenced.
“Glass? More like bottle, since I have more curves than you can hope for. Looking for yours would be akin to embarking on a quest.” Lena then paused and gave her front a very pointed look. “Though if I ever do need a desk, I suppose I could use your chest.”
Kara, eyes flashing at the crude but rather clever rhyme, curled her lips into a calculated smile as she leaned forward and acidly whispered into the curve of Lena’s ear, “maybe your lovely brain has fallen down to your coconut tits, but I would have thought you’d have enough sense to be nicer to me, Lena. I am still capable of skewing the positive press CatCo has been directing to your beloved ‘a force for good’ company lately.”
“Blackmail,” Lena scoffed as she pulled back slightly to press her own lips against Kara’s ear, trying to ignore how soft the skin of the taller woman’s cheek was when her mouth brushed briefly against it. “How fucking juvenile. Is this what the social industry has taught you? How to play dirty for dummies?”
“Oh, Luthor,” Kara evenly exhaled, reaching up to brush a thick strand of hair behind Lena’s ear. “I can get even filthier…”
A shiver slid down Lena’s spine.
Fuck.
Fuck Kara Grant and her minxy voice.
Her words were caught in her throat and at her attempt to swallow thickly, Kara only chuckled darkly before finally pulling back and standing straight up again.
“Enjoy the hors d’oeuvres, miss Lena Kieran Luthor,” she then said, a beatific and dazzling smile on her face, her eyes now soft and welcoming. “I hear that they can be quite… satisfying.”
And she was gone: turned and left without another word, leaving Lena to glare angrily at her retreating back.
Fucking Kara Zora Grant.
—
Lena Kieran Luthor was holding her drink tightly as she stood close to one of the walls in the large auditorium, her green eyes filled with contempt as she glared ineffectively at Kara Zora Grant.
The stunning blonde was currently engaged in a conversation with the mayor, a charismatic smile on her full lips and her gorgeous eyes shining with excitement.
“Glad to see you enjoying your night by glaring daggers at Barbie over there,” a familiar voice commented, amused, making Lena turn towards the source and see Samantha ‘Sam’ Arias, one of her closest friends and the incomparable CFO of L-Corp, the subsidiary of LuthorCorp that Lena handled solely (one that her brother and mother were not allowed to meddle with) and dealt largely with more humanitarian causes: focusing on medical, agricultural, biochemical advancements, and more.
“It irks me that most people can’t or won’t look past her eye-gouging pastels to see the true blood-thirsty Elizabeth Báthory under her golden-tanned skin,” Lena scoffed as she quickly finished her drink in one gulp. “And what in fresh hell does coconut tits mean anyway?” She groused.
Sam almost choked on air at what Lena said. “Coconut tits?”
Lena, finally taking her eyes off Kara, turned to look at Sam and sighed, “yes, coconut tits.”
“I— I don’t know?”
Lena, expecting this answer, but still not liking it, sighed once again.
Damn that two-faced Gemini.
—
Later that night at the Grant Manor:
Thud.
Thud.
“Woah!” Alexandra ‘Alex’ Danvers as she ducked quickly, barely avoiding the sharp dagger that was heading straight for her, and rolled into the room before pulling out the two guns strapped to her thighs. She slung them upwards, immediately pointing them straight at—
“Kara?” she asked, a little confused. “What are you doing?” Carefully, she rose from the floor, both guns still at the ready— just in case.
Kara, unaffected, coolly twirled another dagger in her hands. “Just doing a bit of target practice,” she said with a sly grin, making Alex raise a questioning brow as she finally lowered her weapons and returned them to her holsters.
Then, turning around, she reached for the open door and firmly closed it, now seeing the thick target board on it with a picture of Lena Luthor in the middle, cut out from the cover of the latest CatCo issue, with two more of the daggers piercing her face: one right above her left brow and the other perfectly between her red lips.
“Ah,” Alex said in realization. “Anything you want to talk about?” She asked as she turned around and directed an analytical gaze at her V.V.I.P, the person she had sworn to protect— though she didn’t really need it.
Alexandra ‘Alex’ Danvers was a certified genius: former green beret trained in the nine doctrinal missions with specialization in search and rescue situations, and notably skilled in stealth, subterfuge, and infiltration. She was a master of multiple martial arts and weapons but was significantly fonder of handguns (especially the custom ones resident geniuses Kara Grant and Winn Schott designed for her, two of which she had just wielded).
And—
— she owed Kara her life.
Swore it to her and had no qualms in just following her to hell if she asked. An offer that Kara had raised her eyebrow at and counter-offered with a job as her personal bodyguard and agent with a hefty salary and a great insurance packet.
Kara had saved her, in more ways than one, and never asked for a single thing in return, telling her instead that she was proud of her and was just glad to have helped.
And in that moment, Alex had never felt more accepted or more cared about by anyone other than her mother.
And a very close friendship had somehow blossomed.
Which now was apparently going to involve a night of— scheming?
“Lena Kieran Motherfucking Luthor.”
Kara held up the dagger and deftly threw it. Alex, eyes quickly widening, bent forward at the waist, allowing the weapon to whistle past the top of her head.
Thud.
Kara smirked. Right in her left eye.
“Jesus Christ Kara!” Alex said as she stood back up. “Stop doing that!”
Kara laughed, softly at first, and then louder. “Oh come on, Alex,” she then said, “it’s good to regularly test the reflexes.”
Alex, unamused, stated: “there are other ways. Especially since I don’t think you nor your mother would want to have too many knives stuck in the hallway walls.”
“Spoilsport,” Kara sighed as she leaned back on her chair and continued.
“Lena Luthor knew of my acquisition. She slithered her way like a conniving little snake into my fucking business and dug her flawlessly manicured nails into my deal,” Kara coldly laid out, her hand tightening around the handle of another dagger. “Like the treacherous Jezebel that she is. I want to bite into her rosy little cheek and suck all the red out of that pretty face.”
“Ahm… you know, I really can’t tell if that was supposed to be threatening or… arousing,” Alex honestly replied, noticing in the six years she has worked for and with Kara that her rants and venting that centered around the Luthor heiress always held almost equal parts of both.
“Threatening,” Kara clarified with a furrowing of her brows, a crinkle quickly forming between them, a clear sign that she was very annoyed.
Alex, sensing her growing frustration, decided now was the time to present the information she had learned, “this might not be very helpful, but I have come to find out that Miss Luthor is having a meeting with the CEO of the National City’s Children’s hospital to donate two million dollars to their cancer research center tomorrow at 1000.”
“Oh, is that so?” Kara asked, her expression gradually slipping from irritated to thoughtful. Hmm. How can she use this?
She knew the CEO of the hospital well: Alicia McIntosh, an elegant woman of forty-two years of age with long, auburn hair and kind, hazel eyes. A strong woman who was very passionate about the care of the children in her hospital.
Kara had met her multiple times before for interviews and donations and charity work, etc. Etc. Maybe she could set up a meeting of her own— one just before Lena’s.
“Yes,” she breathed out, a plan starting to come together in her head. “Yes. How… interesting. I think I can definitely use that tidbit of information.”
A laugh: rich, loud, and devious, sounded, making Alex mentally shake her head.
This is definitely going to be a long night.