Mmm, pepper-jack cheezy.
Title: Metropolis
Summary: President Luthor meets with his ambassador to the UN.
Fandom: DC (See A/N)
Word Count: 894
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: Mentions of Lex/OC
A/N: Behind the cut, because they got long.
First, UN notes: The GA refers to the General Assembly; the Council to the Security Council. An observer is a state that watches and speaks at UN proceedings but can't vote (ie, the Holy See, Palestine). An NGO is a non-governmental organization that does pretty much the same thing (ie, Socialist International, Amnesty International, Medicins Sans Frontiers). The Alex is a real hotel, about two blocks from the UN.
Secondly, fandom notes: This doesn't fall in any specific version of DC continuity. It draws most heavily from Lex Luthor: Man of Steel (which you all need to read yesterday), but Lex is already the president, plus there's a Smallville reference in there. In other words, it's complicated.
I really wrote this for myself, because I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I like the style muchly, even though it probably won't make much sense to anyone else.
----
“Ambassador.”
“Mr. President.” There is a hint of a smirk on her lips when she says it, like she can’t decide if it’s true, but thinks it’s hilarious regardless.
He motions at a chair. He’s strangely relaxed, shoes kicked off, bottle of scotch in front of him, feet up on the table, tie halfway off. She drops her increasingly heavy briefcase carelessly, throwing off her suit jacket and unceremoniously plopping down in the chair.
“How are the Indian talks going?” she asks him, taking the scotch he offers.
“Slowly. Making progress though. And the Council?”
“Bogged down on reform,” she snorts. “Again. One of those weeks you wish somebody’d start a war.”
He grins, tossing back the rest of the scotch. “Say the word.”
“Too much paperwork,” she replies. “What brings you out?”
“To Metropolis? I’m due to address the GA some time this week.”
“No, to the middle of the diplomatic district. You’ve got damn near five houses here.”
“You’ve done your homework,” he says, smiling appreciatively. “But you forget, I own this hotel, too.”
She snorts again, and he giggles slightly at it. He must be drunker than she thought, but she always liked him this way. “How could I forget? I’d be expecting the Lex though, not the Alex.”
“It wasn’t like that when I bought it, I’ll have you know.”
She finishes her drink and holds it out for a refill. “So what did the president tell his staff as to the purpose as this highly irregular closed door meeting?”
“The same thing he tells them every time, Ambassador. To the ones that matter, there are essential matters that require such a conference. To the ones that don’t, fuck off.” He fills his glass again. “Both very appropriate answers.”
She stiffens, moving back into diplomat mode, ready to disappoint him. She picks up her glass and walks to the window, not looking at him. “The Council wants observer status for the JLA.”
“No.”
“Lex-”
“No. First, aren’t they an NGO? Second, no.”
“Lex, please. They won’t even have a vote. You can’t be seen to be against them, not right now.”
“Someone has to.” He joins her at the window. She can tell from the way he surveys the city that he’s gearing up for a speech, but she just lets him go. Lex is made of speeches like this.
“This city- it’s gorgeous. It’s fascinating and complex, a huge teeming mass of people, all so different, all so unique, but a living, breathing whole. A microcosm of the world. Say what you like about Gotham or Coast City or New York- this is it.”
“And you know who built it? People. Normal people. Not anybody special, just regular people. But they were special, because they had drive. They had hopes and dreams, and they saw them through. That is why America is beautiful. Not because we're better, but because we have vision."
He brandishes his drink at the city, scowling. “But we don’t care about human innovation or human ingenuity or human strength anymore. We want someone else to be strong for us. And it’s not right.”
“We don’t need heroes. Nobody needs to be super to be special; they just need to live good, honest lives. That’s it. But we want to believe in heroes. That’s our tragedy. We want someone to take care of us, to swoop in and save the day. We want a hero.”
He’s staring hard out the window now, squinting into the distance, as if he’s completely forgotten her presence. “We cripple ourselves when we have one, standing around like a bunch of monkeys, gaping in awe at somebody who- through the accident of birth or science or what have you- has become just a little stronger, just a little faster, just a little better than the rest of us. Except they’re not better. They’re the damaged ones. They’re the aberrations. But they make us- all of us- feel small and weak.”
She stares out silently with him for several minutes. She can almost see it stretching out before her, see those heroes as menaces. In that moment, she thinks she knows more about Lex Luthor than she ever has before.
Then an alarm somewhere in the room sounds, breaking the spell; he touches a button and it stops. His mask returns, as quickly as it was dropped.
“Afraid I have another meeting soon. Anything I can do for you, say the word. Pair of new earrings, perhaps?”
She smirks at him. “I think six pair is enough for now. Or is there some kind of trade in program, maybe work my way up to a nice necklace?”
His arm finds its way around her waist. “Call me when you’re off again, and I’ll see what I can do.”
She kisses him on the cheek, then pats his face lightly. “Sober up.” She turns to leave; he picks up her discarded jacket and helps her slip into it, smoothing out the wrinkles against her back, hands lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should. He kisses her lightly and leads her out.
As she’s going, she turns back. He’s already walked into the room, and he’s staring aimlessly out of the room. He looks so lost, so angry, so alone. She wonders if anyone else can even really pretend to understand. She shuts the door behind her, shaking her head.
Summary: President Luthor meets with his ambassador to the UN.
Fandom: DC (See A/N)
Word Count: 894
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: Mentions of Lex/OC
A/N: Behind the cut, because they got long.
First, UN notes: The GA refers to the General Assembly; the Council to the Security Council. An observer is a state that watches and speaks at UN proceedings but can't vote (ie, the Holy See, Palestine). An NGO is a non-governmental organization that does pretty much the same thing (ie, Socialist International, Amnesty International, Medicins Sans Frontiers). The Alex is a real hotel, about two blocks from the UN.
Secondly, fandom notes: This doesn't fall in any specific version of DC continuity. It draws most heavily from Lex Luthor: Man of Steel (which you all need to read yesterday), but Lex is already the president, plus there's a Smallville reference in there. In other words, it's complicated.
I really wrote this for myself, because I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I like the style muchly, even though it probably won't make much sense to anyone else.
----
“Ambassador.”
“Mr. President.” There is a hint of a smirk on her lips when she says it, like she can’t decide if it’s true, but thinks it’s hilarious regardless.
He motions at a chair. He’s strangely relaxed, shoes kicked off, bottle of scotch in front of him, feet up on the table, tie halfway off. She drops her increasingly heavy briefcase carelessly, throwing off her suit jacket and unceremoniously plopping down in the chair.
“How are the Indian talks going?” she asks him, taking the scotch he offers.
“Slowly. Making progress though. And the Council?”
“Bogged down on reform,” she snorts. “Again. One of those weeks you wish somebody’d start a war.”
He grins, tossing back the rest of the scotch. “Say the word.”
“Too much paperwork,” she replies. “What brings you out?”
“To Metropolis? I’m due to address the GA some time this week.”
“No, to the middle of the diplomatic district. You’ve got damn near five houses here.”
“You’ve done your homework,” he says, smiling appreciatively. “But you forget, I own this hotel, too.”
She snorts again, and he giggles slightly at it. He must be drunker than she thought, but she always liked him this way. “How could I forget? I’d be expecting the Lex though, not the Alex.”
“It wasn’t like that when I bought it, I’ll have you know.”
She finishes her drink and holds it out for a refill. “So what did the president tell his staff as to the purpose as this highly irregular closed door meeting?”
“The same thing he tells them every time, Ambassador. To the ones that matter, there are essential matters that require such a conference. To the ones that don’t, fuck off.” He fills his glass again. “Both very appropriate answers.”
She stiffens, moving back into diplomat mode, ready to disappoint him. She picks up her glass and walks to the window, not looking at him. “The Council wants observer status for the JLA.”
“No.”
“Lex-”
“No. First, aren’t they an NGO? Second, no.”
“Lex, please. They won’t even have a vote. You can’t be seen to be against them, not right now.”
“Someone has to.” He joins her at the window. She can tell from the way he surveys the city that he’s gearing up for a speech, but she just lets him go. Lex is made of speeches like this.
“This city- it’s gorgeous. It’s fascinating and complex, a huge teeming mass of people, all so different, all so unique, but a living, breathing whole. A microcosm of the world. Say what you like about Gotham or Coast City or New York- this is it.”
“And you know who built it? People. Normal people. Not anybody special, just regular people. But they were special, because they had drive. They had hopes and dreams, and they saw them through. That is why America is beautiful. Not because we're better, but because we have vision."
He brandishes his drink at the city, scowling. “But we don’t care about human innovation or human ingenuity or human strength anymore. We want someone else to be strong for us. And it’s not right.”
“We don’t need heroes. Nobody needs to be super to be special; they just need to live good, honest lives. That’s it. But we want to believe in heroes. That’s our tragedy. We want someone to take care of us, to swoop in and save the day. We want a hero.”
He’s staring hard out the window now, squinting into the distance, as if he’s completely forgotten her presence. “We cripple ourselves when we have one, standing around like a bunch of monkeys, gaping in awe at somebody who- through the accident of birth or science or what have you- has become just a little stronger, just a little faster, just a little better than the rest of us. Except they’re not better. They’re the damaged ones. They’re the aberrations. But they make us- all of us- feel small and weak.”
She stares out silently with him for several minutes. She can almost see it stretching out before her, see those heroes as menaces. In that moment, she thinks she knows more about Lex Luthor than she ever has before.
Then an alarm somewhere in the room sounds, breaking the spell; he touches a button and it stops. His mask returns, as quickly as it was dropped.
“Afraid I have another meeting soon. Anything I can do for you, say the word. Pair of new earrings, perhaps?”
She smirks at him. “I think six pair is enough for now. Or is there some kind of trade in program, maybe work my way up to a nice necklace?”
His arm finds its way around her waist. “Call me when you’re off again, and I’ll see what I can do.”
She kisses him on the cheek, then pats his face lightly. “Sober up.” She turns to leave; he picks up her discarded jacket and helps her slip into it, smoothing out the wrinkles against her back, hands lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should. He kisses her lightly and leads her out.
As she’s going, she turns back. He’s already walked into the room, and he’s staring aimlessly out of the room. He looks so lost, so angry, so alone. She wonders if anyone else can even really pretend to understand. She shuts the door behind her, shaking her head.