Miss. Morix

29

          I looked down nonchalantly; I was not nearly prepared for the sights within the pit. Below me, was a flesh covered sphere? It looked almost like an egg; an oversized and pulsating egg. It looked slimy; it looked to be throbbing to the rhythms of a heartbeat. It was massive, and had to be home to a creature with life in it. Around the cave like room, were tubes and machinery I've never seen before. It looked to be feeding the flesh covered egg like the umbilical cord in a 'soon to be' mother's pregnant stomach. I couldn't help but feel fascination as I watched liquid pump through tubes and in to the purple sphere. With every throb a red, and sometimes blue, vein like protrusion pulsated at the top. It looked as if I could pop it; but that if I did, gunk would go everywhere.

I felt a hand on my wrist. For a split second my chest dropped, as my head told me I was falling inwards. I wasn't. I was being pulled backwards.

"Be careful, would you? I wouldn't want you falling in! Not that it'll hurt you. I would never instruct it to harm you. So do not be afraid."
"It? What is it?"
"My creation, the city's doom. When it erupts, it'll be the most massive creature the world's seen. It'll be Metropolis' doomsday! Yes."
"And what makes you think it won't kill you?" I asked quizzically.
"Ah! Well! My love, I created it! I birthed it! I formulated it with my own blood!" He wrapped his fingers with mine. "And nothing with the blood of my own would think to damage a single cell of your body." We shared a brief glance of adoration.
"And when is it set to...hatch?"
"Hatch? Oh no no no, it will be instinctive! It will be congenital! It will be the resourcefulness of which is only to be commanded if Bruce cannot achieve his own objectives; his own desires to make his own marker on the world!"

     I stared in disbelief. He pinned them against each other. He pinned them together without as much as a persuading conversation. He pinned them against each other without any forceful physical contact. He manipulated both Clark and Bruce to bend towards a type of vulnerability in which he had power over. Lex was able to carve the actions of them both without as much as laying a finger on anything. It was...it was ingenious. It was stimulatingly frightening. I couldn't help but adore him and his ever growing Rolodex of work even more. A small smile formed at the corner of my mouth, imprinting my cheek snidely.

"And you think this will do what? Level the city?"
"Rid the community of the overwhelmingly powerful. It will do nothing more but show those of the public that there is always a more powerful. That there will always be something bigger than their biggest comforts."

The pulled me towards him, and put his arm on my shoulder.

"But, tell me. How is your project going? Is your brother improving medically? Is it helping? Any repercussions?" As he asked each question, I couldn't help but feel content. He was the first and only to ask how it was going for Mason since I had gotten the authorizations. That meant something to me. I felt not only listened to, but validated for my hard work and concerns. I felt he cared for more than what I gave him scientifically.
"He's doing well. No irregular symptoms."
"Irregular?"
"Well, you're expected to have symptoms as your body weans off of substances. That goes for anything, and anyone. This is seemingly no different. Which, I find surprising."
"Why's that? It's as chemically confound as any other substance."
"Sure, yeah. But, it isn't any other substance. It's foreign. Not only that, I mean, he was breathing it as oxygen."
"Perhaps he didn't have to be consistently inhaling it like oxygen."
"What do—"

He took a step back, hands on his him, slightly bent over.
"I mean—" He stood straight with one finger in the air. "I mean, what if the government decided as such so no one would have to inject him. Perhaps they felt the public would feel they were enabling. Think about it, and they couldn't give him anything at all! There would have been an uproar if her, God forbidden, died in their care."

     I thought about it. I had never considered that perhaps he wasn't some kryptonite oxygenating monster. That would explain the headaches that seemed to keep Mason from even sleeping in prison; the migraines that pressed among his brain so intensely he felt he'd vomit all over the concrete flooring. That seemed cruel of everyone in the system. As if I was pricked, a thought protruded gracefully. They were torturing him. It had to have been punishment of some sort. Surely they would never tell us, the public, about that. But they were punishing him. For what? For being a threat? To who? Himself? No, to Superman. And if he had died. Geez, if he would have died in the meantime, it'd have looked like his own fault for being so dependent. The stigma of drug addicts being at fault for their own actions, and addictions, would save them.

Rage. I was filled with rage.

"Mira can I ask you something sweetheart?"
I looked at him, trying to hide the expression that would reveal I was deep in though. He knew better though; he always does.
"Sure, what is it?" He stepped closer, filling the gap between us. His hand grazed my cheek. His eyes looked apprehensive, he looked scared. He looked... vulnerable.
"If I were ever deemed foolish, if I were judged per say, would you still—" He paused, swallowing forcefully, but without breaking his needy gaze. "Would you still look to me as Lois looks to Clark while the rest of the city looks at me as Clark does Kryptonite?"

     The question was unanticipated, but made me feel gratified all the same. I kiss him hard, I kissed him swiftly as if I were trying to wash away this sudden distress he was showing to me. It was almost as if he were holding a glass cube to me, expecting me to break it.

"Lex, in a world of both dismal and fragile competitions for power, you are still the most influential. I'm by your side. Be it with my final breaths, or the last few words spoken in Metropolis before I have to leave it, I would call you Superman."

     Lex's shoulders squared, as if confidence were being supplemented on a silver platter. You could tell by the shift in his stare that he was feeling as if he's obtained some level of authority, power, accomplishment or purpose. It was true though. I wouldn't feed him lies. I would forever consider him to be the most influential. Wasn't that the biggest indicator of power? The influence you endorsed? I'd consider him to be ingenious, the one to hold the most intellect. I would consider himthe most cunning of them all and the most generosity in the most unnerving of ways. And together, we didn't feel so hallow internally. I would consider him Superman, yeah. A mastermind, but my own personal erratic Superman. That was all the embodiment of what I would define as... Super. So, the rest of the city could, for lack of a better phrase, kiss my ass. 

He returned the kiss wholeheartedly. It even felt like a thank you.