Date: April 29, 2011, 13:30
Location: Metropolis
Mercy and I arrived at the Metropolis Child Protective Services building 30 minutes before our appointment. I always reached a destination 30 minutes before in my past life, a habit I have maintained in this new one.
When we arrived, what greeted us was an old and gray building of neglect. Paint peeled in ragged strips from its three stories, revealing the dull concrete beneath. The dark and lifeless windows stared out like vacant eyes. A sense of weary resignation permeated the brick and cement, a testament to the countless stories of loss and abandonment.
In front of the gray and depressing building, an older woman in her forties stood with a posture that suggested a life lived carrying burdens. She was African American and stood at five feet five inches. She wore a black and gray professional outfit, sharp but slightly rumpled, and her gaze darted nervously across the cracked sidewalk, betraying a vulnerability she tried to conceal. As Mercy opened the car door with a fluid, almost martial grace, I stepped out and offered a hand.
"Hello, ma'am, it is a pleasure to meet with you today. My name is Lex Luthor, and the woman beside me is Mercy Graves. I believe you talked to her over the phone yesterday and this morning.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Luthor and Ms. Graves! It is a pleasure to meet both of you!" She stated nervously. She shook my hand with vigor and could feel her nervousness by the sweat on her palms.
"Relax, Ms...?" I paused, letting the question hang in the air, my eyes briefly scanning her lanyard, a practiced gesture of observation.
"Ah, it's Moore! My name is Jadda Moore. I am the social worker handling Zoe Lawton's case," She exclaimed, her voice still slightly shaky, the words emerging somewhat faster than usual.
"Ms. Moore. Relax. I'm just a regular person, just like you. I'm just here to talk about Ms. Lawton." I stated and gave a reassuring smile.
Feeling less nervous, she smiled and said, "I apologize, it's not every day you meet someone of your stature. Come inside, and we can talk more about her."
She led us inside and took us directly into her office to provide me privacy due to my status. Mercy and I sat there patiently, as we knew these thing always took time. I chatted with Mercy as we waited; however, she held up her professional facade since we were in public this time. Though I'd repeatedly assured her otherwise, Mercy maintained her professional demeanor, explaining that it reinforced my authority and her competence to others, preventing any assumptions about how she obtained her position. Though it was true that we were sleeping with each other.
After a few minutes of waiting, Ms. Moore finally returned with a vanilla folder containing a large amount of paperwork.
"Thank you both for waiting. I apologize for the delay. Zoe's case is… complex." She settled behind her desk, the folder open before her, its pages filled with a history I was only beginning to grasp. "To be frank, Mr. Luthor and Ms. Graves, Zoe can be… difficult. She's very intelligent and has a good heart, but her experiences have made her… a handful."
"I understand, Ms. Moore. I..." I began, but she cut me off.
Ms. Moore raised a hand, her expression firm, the lines around her mouth tightening. The nervousness she had shown only minutes ago was gone, and in its place was a woman of steely resolve. "With all due respect, Mr. Luthor, I don't think you do. You're a young man, still in your twenties, and you've never raised a child, especially not one who has endured what Ms. Lawton has. Abandonment, a revolving door of foster homes, the constant shadow of her father's… profession. And then there's her heart condition..." Her gaze drifted, her voice softening, the professional detachment momentarily crumbling to reveal a raw, personal concern. "She needs a guardian who can provide unwavering care and stability. Someone who will be there for her, no matter what. Someone who understands that this isn't a business deal."
I could tell where she was coming from, but her words still felt a little insulting. Just because I hadn't raised a kid before didn't mean I couldn't. I tried to explain my intentions. "I'm fully prepared to offer her a stable home. She'll have access to the best schools and any resources she needs to develop her talents and interests. I want to give her a chance at a life that's completely different from the one she's known with her father."
"Mr. Luthor," Ms. Moore reiterated, her gaze steady, "financial stability and access to resources are important, but they are not a substitute for the consistent emotional support and genuine care that a child like Zoe requires. Being a parent is not a transaction, but a profound and ongoing commitment."
We held each other's gaze, the silence stretching, taut with unspoken doubts and reservations, a silent battle of wills fought across the polished surface of the desk. Finally, Ms. Moore sighed and stated, "If it were up to me, I would deny you custody. Like I said earlier, you're young, Mr. Luthor. Most men your age are focused on their own lives. Being a parent means sacrificing yours. Unfortunately, my boss has already signed the paperwork. I only ask that you don't break that young girl's heart more than it already has, don't add to this girl's pain. Take this responsibility seriously. She's already carrying more weight than anyone her age should."
I inclined my head, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of her words. Ms. Moore led us to a small room, clearly designed for children, yet imbued with the same weary sadness that permeated the rest of the building. Soft baby-blue walls enclosed a space furnished with well-worn sofas, their fabric faded and slightly threadbare, and a reasonably sized television hooked up to a somewhat retro video game console.
My attention, however, was fixed on the girl seated at a small table. She was a mirror image of her photograph, yet the vibrant smile was gone, replaced by a mask of boredom and indifference. Her gaze was fixed on her phone, fingers scrolling idly, and a pair of headphones rested over her ears, effectively creating a world where our presence seemed to go entirely unnoticed. Even as Mercy and I took a seat in front of her, she didn't even notice us.
Ms. Moore walked up to her and pulled off her headphones. This action caused Ms. Lawton to be upset and reach up trying to get it back, but Ms. Moore merely raised her arm, not letting her get her device back.
"Hey, I was listening to that!" she yelled at her.
"Zoe, you have visitors," Ms. Moore replied, her tone firm but patient, the weariness in her voice softened by a deep well of compassion.
Zoe glanced at Mercy and me and asked Ms. Moore, "Whose the brunette and baldy Jadda?"
I could see from the corner of my eye that Mercy found it amusing that someone dared to call me "baldy", though if someone did not know Mercy as I did, they would not be able to tell.
Patient as a saint, Ms. Moore replied, "Zoe, these two people are going to be your new guardians starting as of today."
"Oh yippy, I get to be stuck with a new set of strangers now," Zoe said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. She returned to her phone, her thumb resuming its relentless scrolling, a desperate attempt to retreat into the familiar comfort of her digital world. Ms. Moore's hand hovered over the device, ready to confiscate it, but I intervened. "Ms. Moore, it's alright. As long as she can hear me, it's fine."
I then faced Zoe. Trying to be friendly, I told her, "It is nice to meet you, Zoe. My name is Lex. I am an acquaintance of your father. The last time I saw him, he made me promise to look after you. A promise I intend to keep."
Zoe's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing, the carefully constructed mask of indifference beginning to crack. "You know my dad? Well, you can fuck off." The words were delivered with a venom that spoke volumes about her pain and distrust.
"Can't," I replied calmly. "The paperwork is signed. As of today, I'm your legal guardian. Like I said, I gave your father my word and intend to honor it."
Frowning, she turned to Ms. Moore, her expression a mix of anger, disbelief, and a desperate plea for intervention. "If this guy is friends with my dad, he is obviously a terrible person. Are you just going to let him take me?"
I chuckled, which held a hint of amusement, and corrected her, "I wouldn't say we're friends. He's more of a… subordinate. Also, I'm fairly certain I'm one of the good guys, considering I both defeated and delivered him to the authorities."
This statement got her attention. Her blue eyes, so much like Floyd's, widened slightly, the boredom and indifference momentarily replaced by a flicker of... something. Curiosity? Interest? It was hard to tell with teenagers, especially this one.
"You... beat up my dad?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and grudging respect. "I thought he was, like, invincible."
I allowed myself a small, satisfied smirk. "Invincible is a strong word, Ms. Lawton. Let's just say I have certain set of skills and qualities that your father didn't account for. As for being one of the good guys, well, I operate more in shades of gray. But generally, my intentions are aligned with the betterment of society."
It was a carefully crafted statement, designed to pique her interest without revealing too much. I wasn't about to lay out my entire philosophy on morality and progress to a fourteen-year-old, no matter how intelligent she was.
She sat there quietly, trying to process everything. I sat there patiently. While we waited, Ms. Moore sat in the middle of the table in case she had to mediate. Zoe finally broke the silence and questioned, "What do you get out of all this? I know I'm a kid, but I ain't dumb. No one ever does something without expecting something in return."
"With a personality like yours, people would think you're from Gotham," I teased and chuckled.
Zoe's frown deepened, a flash of annoyance crossing her face. I relented, offering a genuine answer. "Trust me, I already obtained what I wanted from your father. I'm simply fulfilling my end of the bargain."
FlashBack to Feburary:
I was waiting in the limo with Mercy when Deadshot came inside. He sat across from me and removed his mask, revealing a face resembling the actor Michael Fassbender. He slid the necessary documents and a flash drive across the leather seat – the tools needed to take over Cabot Energy.
"It's done," Deadshot stated, his voice flat and emotionless. "Make sure you do your part of the deal, Lex."
A faint smile touched my lips. "Lawton," I remarked, my tone laced with a subtle amusement. "Surely you recall our previous engagement. The outcome was quite clear. Perhaps a more respectful tone would be appropriate."
His gaze narrowed, a flicker of lethal intent in his eyes—a predictable reaction.
"Rest assured," I continued, my voice firm, yet inflected with a note of cold certainty. "My commitments are always honored. Your… bluntness, however, was hardly necessary. Professionalism is always appreciated."
As Mercy drove us back, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air between Deadshot and me. What was I supposed to do with this lethal assassin now? My mind raced, a whirlwind of possibilities, until an idea sparked.
"Mr. Lawton," I began, a smile appearing on my face. "Given your… unique skill set and talents, I believe a new arrangement could be mutually beneficial. A chance for you to utilize your abilities in a more stable job position."
Deadshot's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening. "With that look? Pass." His voice was low, a dry rasp.
"Hold on," I urged. "Just hear me out. You can still say no afterward."
"Fine," he conceded, "but make it quick. What kind of arrangement is it?"
"I'm prepared to offer you a more permanent position," I explained, laying out my proposal with the precision of a corporate takeover. "Think of it as becoming a vital part of my organization. Your skills would be utilized on a regular basis, with access to resources you've never dreamed of, and the compensation would be fair. Beyond any contract you've ever fulfilled." I paused, letting the offer hang in the air, the promise of power and influence a potent lure. "That's not all. I also have certain research projects. Projects that could significantly… alter your physiology."
Deadshot's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "Alter my physiology?" he repeated, the question laced with a dangerous edge.
"Imagine," I continued, my voice low and persuasive, the words carefully chosen to paint a tantalizing vision. "The cutting edge of bioengineering. The chance to become… more. Stronger, faster, and more resilient than any human. An evolution of your very being. Anything you desire, within reason, is on the table in exchange for your… participation. I must warn you, however, the process is highly experimental."
Deadshot remained silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly soft, almost… vulnerable. "There is one thing."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Name it."
"My daughter," he said, his gaze unwavering, the intensity in his eyes burning away the assassin's coldness to reveal the raw, desperate love of a father. "Zoe. You take care of her. See she's okay."
The request took me aback. It wasn't what I expected from a cold-blooded killer. I'd anticipated demands for wealth, weapons, or power. This was unexpected. "Take care of her?" I echoed, slightly surprised.
"Yeah," Deadshot confirmed, his voice firm, resolute. "Good schools. Safe place. The kind of life... she deserves. You give me your word on that, Luthor." He fell silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor of the limousine, lost in a private hell of regret and longing. When he looked up at me, his expression had hardened, the raw honesty in his eyes stripping away any pretense, laying bare the desperate core of his being. "Look, Luthor, I ain't gonna win any father-of-the-year awards. Zoe's mom... died when she was born. I've tried to justify what I do - I'm good at it, pays the bills, even get a twisted kick out of it sometimes. But the truth is, the medical expenses for Zoe, her damn heart... it was the only way. My only reason for staying in this game was to get her a healthy heart, a shot at a real life. Now that she's got that chance, I want you to give her the future I couldn't."
I studied him, my mind racing, calculating the long-term implications of this arrangement. This wasn't a simple transaction; it was a glimpse into the twisted heart of a killer, a vulnerability that could be both a weakness and, potentially, a strange form of leverage. "You would trade wealth and power for this?" I asked, wanting to be absolutely certain. "For nothing else?"
"Nothing else," he stated, his voice firm, unwavering. "Just Zoe. You swear you'll take care of her, you've got my undivided attention. My complete cooperation."
A faint smile played on my lips, not one of triumph, but of genuine, if somewhat detached, curiosity. "I find myself… surprisingly willing to accept these terms, Mr. Lawton. It seems our arrangement will be mutually beneficial." I extended my hand. Deadshot's handshake was firm, direct.
Back to the Present:
Zoe watched me, her expression a complex mix of suspicion and grudging curiosity. Ms. Moore sat quietly, her gaze shifting between us in case she needed to intervene at any point. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions, mostly from Zoe.
"So," Zoe finally said, breaking the silence, "you're stuck with me now, huh? What's the plan, then? You gonna lock me in a tower or something?"
I allowed a small, genuine smile to touch my lips. "Hardly. I'm not in the business of imprisoning teenagers, Ms. Lawton. I intend to provide you with the necessary resources and opportunities to thrive. A stable home, a quality education, and the chance to pursue your interests, free from the… complications of your father's life."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Complications? You mean his job? The whole 'killing people for money' thing?"
"A rather… straightforward summary, yes," I conceded, my tone dry. "And a lifestyle that, I imagine, has been less than conducive to a stable childhood."
She scoffed, a brittle, defensive sound. "I can handle myself. I'm not some fragile little kid."
"I never suggested you were," I replied calmly. "But even the most resilient individuals benefit from a supportive environment, and you, Ms. Lawton, have been denied that for far too long."
Zoe shifted in her seat, her gaze flickering around the room, as if searching for an escape route. "So, I just… move in with you? Like some charity case?"
"Not charity, Ms. Lawton," I corrected her, my tone firm. "An arrangement. A fulfillment of my end of the deal with your father, but also an investment. In exchange for your father's services and loyalty, I agreed to ensure your well-being. Consider this an equal exchange."
"So he's your lackey then," Zoe remarked, frowning.
"If that's how you take it, then yes, a lackey," I stated bluntly.
Zoe stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she shrugged and stated, "Whatever. As long as I get my own room."
"A reasonable request," I replied, rising to my feet. "And one that can be quickly arranged. If you'll gather your belongings, Ms. Moore can escort us to my vehicle."
Mercy, who had remained a silent observer, approached Zoe. Her gaze, usually sharp and professional, softened slightly. "Look," she said, her voice carrying a weight Zoe couldn't quite place. "I wasn't always... this." A subtle gesture encompassed her tailored suit and composed demeanor. "This chance... it's rare. Don't squander it." She gave Zoe a long, steady look, then turned and walked with purpose toward the exit, the click of her heels echoing in the sudden silence as she went to prepare the limo.
Zoe hesitated momentarily, her gaze lingering on Mercy, a flicker of something akin to curiosity in her eyes. Then, she grabbed her phone and a small backpack from the floor. "Yeah, whatever. Let's get this over with."
As we walked out of the CPS building, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of future lay ahead for this troubled, intelligent girl. A future I was now, however reluctantly, responsible for shaping.