inalienable rights CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"I would have thought this stuff would be harder to work with," Philip Sawyer commented as he poured the unearthly green liquid into a bullet mold. He knew that Luthorcorp had employed the somewhat subversive use of meteor rocks since the inception of Fertilizer Plant No. 3, but had never handled it personally. Until Lionel's imprisonment, he'd been little more than a pencil pusher with a cushy desk job.
"Kryptonite has turned out to be a remarkably pliable material, with widespread applications," Lionel responded idly, turning a Colt Single Action Army six-shooter over in his latex-gloved hands. It wasn't the most stylish choice, but it was discreet, which it had to be. The weapon would have to be fired at point-blank range, or Clark would hear it coming and dodge the projectile long before it reached its mark. Dr. Ripley's records had been most helpful in that regard - Lionel finally knew how to get a step ahead of Clark Kent. He would have to get close though - which would mean the .38 would have to be small enough that it might remain undetected until it was too late.
Most importantly, the gun, with its two-inch barrel and six-chamber cylinder, could never be traced to him. It was a spoil of his own brand of war, lifted from a morally-challenged counterintelligence agent during a high-stakes exchange of cash and secrets in the early 1980's. A relic from the days when he still wrestled with his own morality, though he would never admit to such weakness. The revolver was almost an antique, its usefulness usurped by semiautomatics, but Lionel Luthor never threw anything away, and he had one final task for it. He aimed at the far wall, cocked the hammer and gave the trigger a gentle squeeze, smiling trance-like in satisfaction when the report of a blank cartridge filled the concrete room.
Sawyer jumped and his heart leapt into his throat. "What the hell!" he cried. "Couldn't you have warned me before you fired?" He settled back onto the stool he'd been working from, just thankful that the upset hadn't caused him to spill molten meteor rock on himself.
Lionel grinned patronizingly. "A bit skittish, aren't you Sawyer? Perhaps my faith in you is misplaced."
"Sorry, gunshots going off three feet from my head tend to make me nervous," Sawyer retorted uncustomarily, eliciting a raised eyebrow from his employer.
Lionel looked dubious. "Have you ever fired a weapon, Sawyer?"
"No Sir."
"Have you ever handled one?"
"No."
"Take it," Lionel commended, holding the .38 out by the barrel.
Sawyer licked his lower lip. "I'd… uh, I'd rather not, Sir."
"Go on, take it," Lionel implored like a drug dealer offering a complimentary first fix.
"Why?"
"I want to see how you handle it."
"I don't want to handle it."
"Are you refusing to follow my orders?"
Sawyer gulped. "I just - I didn't know things were going to go this way. I didn't expect - wait - do you expect me to shoot Clark Kent?"
Lionel laughed madly, withdrawing the arm that held the gun outstretched and aiming it at a target that wasn't in the room. "Certainly not! Only a fool would send a fool to carry out his own work. No, Sawyer. Clark Kent is the key to the future - of that I am certain - and I would not allow the likes of you to unlock it in my stead."
He cocked the hammer again, leveling his arm and pulling back on the trigger, seeing in his mind's eye the wilting form of the steely young man who had so long eluded his comprehension.
Lionel Luthor had begun to drift into delusion, but would be eluded no more.
The hero must fall, that the future might soar.
"Tell me, Clark," Lex began almost blithely, crossing the room with deliberate grace as addressed his young friend with challenging eyes. "What is your purpose here?"
Clark didn't even have to feign confusion. "My purpose?"
"Yes, Clark, your purpose, your reason, your mission - you aren't here by happenstance, are you?" Lex was finally beginning to let the edge of his agitation show. His patience and poise were both wearing thin as the questions in his mind swung pendulously, slowly breaking through the tissue-like barrier that kept him from launching accusatory missiles.
Clark shook his head. "Lex, I don't know what you're - "
"Why am I here? Why are we here?" Lex interrupted. "Mankind has pondered those questions for millennia, and so few of the brilliant minds that dared to try and answer them have formulated anything close to a satisfactory hypothesis. Certainly nothing to appease the masses - those hungry for a sense of direction, needing to know that there's a reason for it all." Lex was searching Clark for something, it seemed - as if he were looking for some outward sign that should have always been apparent - as if he never should have blended in at all.
Clark's demeanor remained utterly mystified. "I'm sorry, Lex, I really don't know what you're trying to say."
Lex nodded, closed-mouthed, the intensity in his posture ebbing slightly as he took a step back. "There must be such… freedom - in not being plagued with mankind's uncertainties."
A collective catching of breath rippled through the room, and all but Lois stood stock-still, awaiting Clark's response. Jonathan and Martha appeared literally paralyzed by the confrontation.
"What on Earth does that mean?" Lois interjected.
Lex pointed at her suddenly, his arm jutting out with his finger extended like a bayonet. "Precisely," he spat, his focus still fixed on Clark. "What on Earth? What on Earth are you? What are you doing here?"
Lois' brow furrowed. "You just said you know what he is," she recalled. "How about enlightening the rest of us? Or, evidently just me, since everybody else seems to have at least read the cliff notes on this book."
"I do know, now," reiterated Lex. "I must admit though, that this revelation was more than even I had bargained for." He stepped back to the table, keeping one distrustful eye on Clark as he retrieved the folder he'd been studying moments before. "There's little about this town that leaves room for surprise, and yet as usual, Clark, you transcend even that expectation. Tell me, Chloe," he continued, diverting his address but still not his eyes to the young reporter. "How long have you been studying the strange occurrences of Smallville?"
Chloe looked wide-eyed and shrugged, uncertain as to whether answering would play into Clark's favor or his detriment. "Uh, pretty much since I moved here, I guess."
"And in that time, you've witnessed and reported disaster, deformity, death, destruction - all as a result of the events of one cataclysmic event. Yes?" Lex waited with his head cocked expectantly.
Clark's jaw went slack. He knew where Lex's train of thought was traveling now - or had at least identified its next stop. "Lex, please, you don't have to do this."
"A stunning display, if I may say so, Clark. I've had fireworks at birthday parties myself, though nothing to rival that."
Lois was becoming progressively more frustrated. "Okay, see, this - this whole cataclysmic event thing? Not making things any clearer for Lois."
"That was the beginning of it, wasn't it?" Lex was gathering steam.
"Of what?"
"Your purpose." Lex took a menacing step forward, a manila folder in his hand.
"What are you talking about? What purpose?" Clark swallowed heavily, hoping that, just once, his superhuman hearing would fail him long enough that he wouldn't have to hear what came next.
"Even as a child you bent us to your will, didn't you? By your very arrival here - "
"Lex, that's enough," Jonathan barked, reanimated suddenly by the look of acute anguish on his son's face.
"Oh, it isn't nearly enough, Mr. Kent," Lex objected. "He's here to conquer." He turned his attention back to Clark. "Aren't you, Kal-El?"
Clark's features contorted into pained restraint. "Shut up! Stop it!"
"You lost no time, did you?" Lex refused to back down. "From the first moment you were here, you began to fulfill this mission!" He gestured with the folder, his eyes wild.
"Lex, stop it! You don't know what you're talking about!" Clark cried.
Lex nodded, neither in triumph nor concession - he merely flipped the folder open to the page in its center and began to read. "On this third planet from this star, Sol, you will be a god among men. They are a flawed race. Rule them with strength, my son. That is where your greatness lies."
"Lex," Clark implored. "Please, you don't understand - "
"No, Clark, I do understand. You were meant for greatness, as your father intended. 'Rule them with strength.' A god among men, indeed. We are a flawed race."
A vacuous silence engulfed the room as its occupants pondered Lex's cryptic response.
"But it gives me cause to wonder, Clark. When my father died this morning, was it for the flaws of our race, or the strength of your rule?"