Preview of "Nightshade": Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne ... friends or rivals?
Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne have been friends since childhood, classmates in the most prestigious prep schools and academies throughout the world. Determined and ambitious, they have much in common. Lex has spent a lifetime to pursue a destiny beyond his father's shadow; Bruce has made it his life's work to build upon his late father's great legacy. It's only natural that they could become both friends (and rivals).
But, loyalties are tested. Some friendships survive, while others are doomed to ruin. When destinies collide, can Bruce and Lex remain friends -- or will the hand of fate sever their ties forever? Clark, Chloe, Lana and others must decide if they are prepared to trust a reclusive Gotham billionnaire who is keeping his own secrets, deep beneath the caverns of Wayne Manor. Should Clark trust him with his alien secret? Will Bruce confide in Clark about his own mysterious plans? The answers may emerge as Lex and Bruce's rivalry escalates.
Here is an excerpt from my latest short story, "Nightshade" (4th of 4 short stories), a prologue to the clash of empires between Wayne and Luthor. Please note that these stories have an internal continuity, where previous events may affect the plot. Events occur during the aftermath of Dark Thursday and the rebuilding of Metropolis:
' A hideous explosion echoed on the other line of the US Army transmitter. Chloe broke her radio silence and screamed, despite Alfred’s instructions to remain quiet while the mission was active. Alfred and his handpicked team of operatives were only 50 km from Poland’s eastern border with Belarus: his last communications confirmed that the mission was a success.
Now, there was only the eerie crackle of dead static.
“Drummer Girl to Falconer … do you copy, Falconer?” Chloe repeated frantically several times, using the John Le Carre novel-inspired code name Alfred had assigned her and Alfred’s MI6 alias.
Clark took a deep breath. He had known Alfred Pennyworth for over five years and the Kents considered the butler as one of their best friends. Could he be gone forever?
“He’s … he’s gone, Chloe,” Clark struggled to utter the words. Alfred and his team were in mid-flight and were approaching the Polish border when they came under fire from anti-aircraft batteries. He was certain that it an explosion.
“No, Clark,” Chloe refused to accept it. “It’s a technical malfunction! Maybe his plane got caught in some turbulence, maybe Belarus security forces jammed his frequency, maybe the USAF are escorting him into Poland …” Her explanations came out in staccato bursts.
“Chloe,” Clark pleaded, as he rested a hand on her shoulder. “He knew the risks, better than anyone …” His words were meant to comfort her, but it had the opposite effect. Chloe wanted to help Alfred: he was her friend, one of her closest.
I could have done more, she told herself. I could have stopped him from going to eastern Europe.
“He’s not dead,” Chloe muttered in disbelief. “Alfred’s … not … dead.”
How could it end like this? Clark thought. Alfred Pennyworth is dead. He tried to make sense of the chaos, as his mind travelled back to the events of the past few weeks ...
Chloe had gone to the Planet to look up archived stories about government-sponsored clandestine military operations.
With Lex and Lana at the fundraising gala in Luthor Commerce Square, Clark thought it would be safe to visit Lionel Luthor at the estate. Lionel was reading the Gotham Gazette in the library. The front page depicted Bruce’s visit to WayneTech’s plant in Metropolis. When he told Lionel about the Checkmate Protocols and Alfred’s long absence, Lionel shrugged.
“I hear young Bruce has come to mark his territory again in Metropolis,” Lionel sneered, pointing at the photo of Bruce in painter’s overalls. “See how happy he is painting WayneTech’s walls? A man of the people.” Lionel poured the red wine decanter and refilled his glass. “As if he’s ever suffered like the people of Metropolis!”
“Bruce just wants to help Metropolis,” Clark insisted. “Anyway, I came to find out if you know anything about these Checkmate Protocols.”
“Your source, Mr. Munch, is an extremely dangerous man,” Lionel declared, wagging his finger at Clark. “He’s a crackpot UFO bounty hunter – but he’s still dangerous. Unfortunately he may be right. My sources on Capitol Hill tell me that the political climate is ripe for the rise of a new order. The adherents of these Checkmate Protocols are tired of what they perceive as a lack of political will and moral clarity among their co-workers in Congress, the Pentagon, Homeland Security and other critical agencies. If they are indeed active, a quiet bureaucratic coup d’etat may already be under way. If, as you say, Alfred has chosen to stand against them – your favourite butler may already be dead. These people are that powerful.” Lionel swirled the red wine in his glass, then took another sip as he settled on the grand piano’s bench. “Alfred always was a bit of crusader. Was he naïve? Maybe, He had common sense, though it appears it’s deserted him if he thinks he can stop these Checkmate zealots. Why he chose to waste his time and talents coddling that overgrown frat boy Bruce Wayne is beyond me!”
“Why do you hate the Waynes so much?” Clark demanded. “Are you jealous of what they’ve done with their wealth to help people?”
Lionel smiled. “Ah, the arrogance of youth! It’s a bit more complicated than jealousy, Clark. Don’t believe everything you’ve heard from Lex. Thomas Wayne and I weren’t always mortal enemies.” Lionel pulled out his wallet and thumbed through a few photos of Lillian, Lucas, a senator and a mayor. He tugged at an older, black-and-white photo and handed it to Clark.
Clark’s eyes widened. It showed a much younger Lionel (with a shaggy 1970s mane), Thomas Wayne and his fair-haired girlfriend on the deck of a yacht. The coastline in the background could have been the French Riviera, or perhaps the Mediterranean.
“You were friends with the Thomas Wayne?” Clark wondered.
“This was long before I met Lillian,” Lionel said. “But that’s in the past.” He covered his mouth, as he considered how much had changed in his relationship with Wayne Manor. His finger lingered (perhaps too long) on the photo of Thomas’ girlfriend: the future Martha Wayne. He quickly tucked the photo into his wallet, but Clark had already noticed.
“You had a thing for her?” Clark blurted. “Lex never told me about this before!”
Lionel played a few incoherent notes on the piano. “I see you’ve picked up Miss Sullivan’s nosiness for other people’s business! When I knew Tom Wayne, he had just completed his research on artificial heart valves and was still living off the family’s railway fortunes. One thing he lacked was the social graces required of the jet-set. That’s where Martha fit in. She wasn’t your typical Ivy League New Englander, either. She was vivacious, enchanting and effortlessly gracious. I was infatuated …”
“And?” Clark inquired impatiently.
“That’s none of your concern,” Lionel stated emphatically. “Or Bruce’s for that matter! I lost and Thomas won her over. He proceeded to transform his family’s company into a global empire. He represented the old order: power by privilege. I vowed that I would never assume anything by entitlement. I would earn my place by my own efforts. Thomas and I …” Lionel struggled to form the next few words. “… we had our differences and we never spoke again. I was uninvited from the wedding. In a few years, Martha would be with child …” Lionel began to pour another glass of wine from the decanter, but he paused. He remembered one glorious cruise on the French Riviera, with a good friend from Gotham, a bottle of wine and an incredible woman he has lost to a Wayne.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lionel said, returning to his former reticence. “You overestimate my influence in the halls of power. There’s nothing I can do about Alfred. If you say that Checkmate may be after him, he’s as good as dead.” '
You can read the rest of "Nightshade" here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3257717/1/
But, loyalties are tested. Some friendships survive, while others are doomed to ruin. When destinies collide, can Bruce and Lex remain friends -- or will the hand of fate sever their ties forever? Clark, Chloe, Lana and others must decide if they are prepared to trust a reclusive Gotham billionnaire who is keeping his own secrets, deep beneath the caverns of Wayne Manor. Should Clark trust him with his alien secret? Will Bruce confide in Clark about his own mysterious plans? The answers may emerge as Lex and Bruce's rivalry escalates.
Here is an excerpt from my latest short story, "Nightshade" (4th of 4 short stories), a prologue to the clash of empires between Wayne and Luthor. Please note that these stories have an internal continuity, where previous events may affect the plot. Events occur during the aftermath of Dark Thursday and the rebuilding of Metropolis:
' A hideous explosion echoed on the other line of the US Army transmitter. Chloe broke her radio silence and screamed, despite Alfred’s instructions to remain quiet while the mission was active. Alfred and his handpicked team of operatives were only 50 km from Poland’s eastern border with Belarus: his last communications confirmed that the mission was a success.
Now, there was only the eerie crackle of dead static.
“Drummer Girl to Falconer … do you copy, Falconer?” Chloe repeated frantically several times, using the John Le Carre novel-inspired code name Alfred had assigned her and Alfred’s MI6 alias.
Clark took a deep breath. He had known Alfred Pennyworth for over five years and the Kents considered the butler as one of their best friends. Could he be gone forever?
“He’s … he’s gone, Chloe,” Clark struggled to utter the words. Alfred and his team were in mid-flight and were approaching the Polish border when they came under fire from anti-aircraft batteries. He was certain that it an explosion.
“No, Clark,” Chloe refused to accept it. “It’s a technical malfunction! Maybe his plane got caught in some turbulence, maybe Belarus security forces jammed his frequency, maybe the USAF are escorting him into Poland …” Her explanations came out in staccato bursts.
“Chloe,” Clark pleaded, as he rested a hand on her shoulder. “He knew the risks, better than anyone …” His words were meant to comfort her, but it had the opposite effect. Chloe wanted to help Alfred: he was her friend, one of her closest.
I could have done more, she told herself. I could have stopped him from going to eastern Europe.
“He’s not dead,” Chloe muttered in disbelief. “Alfred’s … not … dead.”
How could it end like this? Clark thought. Alfred Pennyworth is dead. He tried to make sense of the chaos, as his mind travelled back to the events of the past few weeks ...
Chloe had gone to the Planet to look up archived stories about government-sponsored clandestine military operations.
With Lex and Lana at the fundraising gala in Luthor Commerce Square, Clark thought it would be safe to visit Lionel Luthor at the estate. Lionel was reading the Gotham Gazette in the library. The front page depicted Bruce’s visit to WayneTech’s plant in Metropolis. When he told Lionel about the Checkmate Protocols and Alfred’s long absence, Lionel shrugged.
“I hear young Bruce has come to mark his territory again in Metropolis,” Lionel sneered, pointing at the photo of Bruce in painter’s overalls. “See how happy he is painting WayneTech’s walls? A man of the people.” Lionel poured the red wine decanter and refilled his glass. “As if he’s ever suffered like the people of Metropolis!”
“Bruce just wants to help Metropolis,” Clark insisted. “Anyway, I came to find out if you know anything about these Checkmate Protocols.”
“Your source, Mr. Munch, is an extremely dangerous man,” Lionel declared, wagging his finger at Clark. “He’s a crackpot UFO bounty hunter – but he’s still dangerous. Unfortunately he may be right. My sources on Capitol Hill tell me that the political climate is ripe for the rise of a new order. The adherents of these Checkmate Protocols are tired of what they perceive as a lack of political will and moral clarity among their co-workers in Congress, the Pentagon, Homeland Security and other critical agencies. If they are indeed active, a quiet bureaucratic coup d’etat may already be under way. If, as you say, Alfred has chosen to stand against them – your favourite butler may already be dead. These people are that powerful.” Lionel swirled the red wine in his glass, then took another sip as he settled on the grand piano’s bench. “Alfred always was a bit of crusader. Was he naïve? Maybe, He had common sense, though it appears it’s deserted him if he thinks he can stop these Checkmate zealots. Why he chose to waste his time and talents coddling that overgrown frat boy Bruce Wayne is beyond me!”
“Why do you hate the Waynes so much?” Clark demanded. “Are you jealous of what they’ve done with their wealth to help people?”
Lionel smiled. “Ah, the arrogance of youth! It’s a bit more complicated than jealousy, Clark. Don’t believe everything you’ve heard from Lex. Thomas Wayne and I weren’t always mortal enemies.” Lionel pulled out his wallet and thumbed through a few photos of Lillian, Lucas, a senator and a mayor. He tugged at an older, black-and-white photo and handed it to Clark.
Clark’s eyes widened. It showed a much younger Lionel (with a shaggy 1970s mane), Thomas Wayne and his fair-haired girlfriend on the deck of a yacht. The coastline in the background could have been the French Riviera, or perhaps the Mediterranean.
“You were friends with the Thomas Wayne?” Clark wondered.
“This was long before I met Lillian,” Lionel said. “But that’s in the past.” He covered his mouth, as he considered how much had changed in his relationship with Wayne Manor. His finger lingered (perhaps too long) on the photo of Thomas’ girlfriend: the future Martha Wayne. He quickly tucked the photo into his wallet, but Clark had already noticed.
“You had a thing for her?” Clark blurted. “Lex never told me about this before!”
Lionel played a few incoherent notes on the piano. “I see you’ve picked up Miss Sullivan’s nosiness for other people’s business! When I knew Tom Wayne, he had just completed his research on artificial heart valves and was still living off the family’s railway fortunes. One thing he lacked was the social graces required of the jet-set. That’s where Martha fit in. She wasn’t your typical Ivy League New Englander, either. She was vivacious, enchanting and effortlessly gracious. I was infatuated …”
“And?” Clark inquired impatiently.
“That’s none of your concern,” Lionel stated emphatically. “Or Bruce’s for that matter! I lost and Thomas won her over. He proceeded to transform his family’s company into a global empire. He represented the old order: power by privilege. I vowed that I would never assume anything by entitlement. I would earn my place by my own efforts. Thomas and I …” Lionel struggled to form the next few words. “… we had our differences and we never spoke again. I was uninvited from the wedding. In a few years, Martha would be with child …” Lionel began to pour another glass of wine from the decanter, but he paused. He remembered one glorious cruise on the French Riviera, with a good friend from Gotham, a bottle of wine and an incredible woman he has lost to a Wayne.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lionel said, returning to his former reticence. “You overestimate my influence in the halls of power. There’s nothing I can do about Alfred. If you say that Checkmate may be after him, he’s as good as dead.” '
You can read the rest of "Nightshade" here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3257717/1/
posted by President Luthor at 8:47 PM
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