Chapter Text
The blaring siren perched on top of the police car Lex was unceremoniously shoved into seemed to mock him as he sat stiffly in his seat. His broken arm was a throbbing ache on his side, which only served as a constant reminder of recent events that made Lex snarl in disdain and let out a string of curses underneath his breath whenever he thought of the stupid fucking mutt that had caused the injury.
With that stupid fucking red cape, too.
Distantly, Lex could register shouts of muffled cheers and booing outside the cop car, from disgruntled citizens who were “upset about the dimensional rift being forced open through their city and swallowing up all their belongings into a black hole forever” or something.
He found that he could genuinely not care any less, relating the sounds to the microchatter of useless ants underneath his feet.
No, he was more preoccupied with glaring angrily at the disgusting bright blue back of a metahuman alien, as if his looks alone could make the thing drop-dead in front of his feet. He could feel the flame of hatred deep within his heart begin to ignite with a renewed vigour, clenching his fists despite the flaring pain shooting up his right arm as a result.
His lungs and heart squeezed in his chest, almost suffocating from the weight of his hatred. His throat hurt from yelling so much earlier.
Another testament to how inferior humans were, he mentally snarked, to whom he didn’t know, and a self-deprecating laugh was forced from his lungs.
Superman’s throat probably never got sore. His heart probably beat the same whether he was lifting a building or walking down the street.
Lex found his lips curling in disdain as he continued to watch the bumbling idiot grin at the swarm of pesky reporters and flashing camera lights rushing to surround him. He was more than capable of blowing them all away with a single push of his breath, which he very pointedly wasn’t doing, and the fact irritated Lex like no other. He was also NOT refusing to acknowledge the bubbling humiliation from crying actual, genuine, tears in front of the alien earlier, by the way, even if his face began to warm up and his hands became clammy with sweat.
Lex had turned to him, with hot tears dripping down his cheeks, and the eyes staring back at him were only full of understanding and kindness --which enraged him because how dare he? How dare he pretend to be so much better than him through this false act of forgiveness? Even though he was stood above him, Superman did not look like he was looking down on him.
Probably because he didn’t need to.
One flick of his finger would be enough to throw Lex Luthor off this building and to his death below.
But he didn’t do the most logical and understandable action, no. When Lex had even jokingly mentioned it at the moment, cradling his broken arm and slouching in defeat, his face had gone all white and fake with worry as he vehemently shook his head, shaking that stupid lone curl along with him. Even as he had escorted Lex down the building and towards the rowdy street below to be arrested, his hands were infuriatingly gentle on his back, so consciously aware of his meta-human superiority, it punched another burst of hatred up Lex’s spine.
He was probably flaunting his strength. Warning him, saying, “This is how easily I could kill you.”
He was jostled out of his inner thoughts when the police car began to move, stuttering to life with a splutter of its engine. Lex only huffed in annoyance as began to drive down the street, pushing through crowds of protesting civilians as they pounded on the window in anger. The sounds were muffled inside the car, but he was able to hear their whining pretty clearly.
“Let him out! He needs a beating!” One particularly angry man yelled.
“He ruined our homes!” Another woman screamed.
“What about our livelihoods? My shop is destroyed!” A shop owner said, rattling the door handle.
All the while, Lex pretended to not hear anything, staring blankly ahead through the glass plane separating him and the driver seat as the policewoman driving the car sighed, pressing her foot on the gas pedal a little harder in a show of mild frustration. She turned at the sound of his scoff, shaking her head in disapproval.
“Let's be real here, you do kind of deserve this.” She quipped, shrugging her shoulders a bit. Lex was honestly a bit surprised how gentle she was about it.
“I’m not an idiot, woman, I’m not so socially inept as to think this is undeserved.” He quipped back, his voice snarky yet surprisingly gentle as to match the tone of her voice. He shifted a bit in his seat. His arm hurt.
He hated the fact his arm hurt.
When he was younger and much more naive, Lex had believed in the idea of effort. He was 12 when he first solved a complex engineering problem alone in his dorm room. 16 when he graduated top of his class in Harvard. 21, when he inherited his good for nothing father’s company. 24, when he was declared the most influential person on the planet for the first time on the front cover of “World People’s Magazine”. He had foolishly believed power could come from the mind, from raw, earned excellence and hard work-
Then he came along. Him with his inhuman muscles, fake, pretending smile. The alien who could bend the sky under his pinky finger, yet spoke in a soft, righteous voice as he walked leisurely through lines of gunfire.
Lex remembered the moment he first saw him– no, it. He had just returned from a long conference meeting regarding the blueprints of an upcoming complex engineering project. And as Lex had shuffled into his room, he had watched the TV as a news broadcast had zoomed into Superman, in all his hideous glory, holding up a fallen building with his unearned strength over a cowering idiot, smiling all the while.
At that moment, a sense of resentment bubbled up his throat. A feeling of infinite inadequacy, the whispered thought of, “You can never be him.” No matter how much technology could evolve and upgrade, Lex Luthor could never be Superman.
And that killed him.
Lex was torn from his reminiscing when he realised the background noise from the angry crowd had disappeared, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
They had been driving for a while now, and they were nearing Belle Reve. Lex jolted as the car jerked to a stop, wincing a bit as his arm shifted on top his chest. The car had stopped in front of a large cement gate, and he watched silently as the policewoman stepped out to greet an armed guard. They talked a bit, the sounds of their conversation muted from beyond the glass. Lex shifted again in his seat, restless of what might happen next. All of a sudden, the guard, accompanied by another, started to approach the parked car. He proceeded to then fling open the door with an unnecessary amount of force and gripped Lex tightly by the (very broken) arm, ignoring his flinch of surprise and hauling him out of the car.
Lex bit down, hard, into his lip, refusing to make even a little noise of pain in front of this dick, which he was betting fat fucking money on held some sort of grudge against him. Lex did see, in the corner of his eye, the worried face of the policewoman who had been driving him earlier, and couldn’t help but let out a little snort.
How funny. He didn’t really know why she cared so much.
Lex was quiet as he was shoved into the back of a prison van, followed by the two guards. They slammed the door shut, and the van quickly started its drive down the road.
The tension was palpable. Lex could physically feel the hate glare levelled at him by the douchebag of the guard that grabbed his (now even more broken) arm sitting across from him, watching deadpan as he gripped his gun over and over again in a dramatic show of anger.
And looking back, Lex should’ve thought a little harder before smirking and asking the guard,
“What, did I do something to make you mad?” In his most sarcastic, snooty voice possible.
There was a burst of sound and a clang of metal as the guard shot up from his seat and pointed the barrel of his gun directly at Lex Luthor’s head.
‘Don’t fucking try me, Lex Luthor.” His voice was shaking with rage, and he spat out Lex’s name like it was a curse that would infect him if he didn’t get it out of his throat quickly enough. The guard next to Lex and the guard driving the van didn’t flinch, both clearly expecting this outburst from their comrade.
There was a brief bought of silence as all the individuals in the van rocked in their seat from the rocky road beneath the tires.
Lex only blinked his wide eyes in false confusion, turning his head mockingly. “Or what? You going to shoot my brains out?” He sneered, baring his teeth in disgust. He hated this pretend show of mercy. If you’re going to kill someone, just do it, no preamble.
He was surprisingly calm regarding the metal barrel pointing straight at his forehead.
The guard tightened his already tight hands around the gun, shaking as he did so. He snarled at the blank stare of the man below him.
“I’m not fucking joking, Luthor. I’ll kill you if you don't shut up.” They both watched in tense silence as the guard’s finger moved to rest on top of the trigger.
Lex grinned, his smile like a predator who just found their prey to hunt for the day.
“I asked you a question. What did I do to make you so mad at little ‘ol me?” He made a show of pretending to sniff and wipe an imaginary tear off his cheek, despite the cruel smirk displayed on his lips.
The barrel pushed forward, now pressing directly against his head.
“I mean it! You and your stupid fuck decision-making resulted in my home falling down into a dimensional black hole! My girlfriend she-!” He was screaming now, his voice hoarse and high.
He could hear the other guards shift and begin to try to calm the guard down somewhere in the background, and all of a sudden, Lex barked out a laugh.
Lex began to laugh, a crazed and manic laugh, because he found he did not care for the cold metal pressing against his skull and the shrill shrieks of a grieving man. He did not care about the bullet that would surely make its way into his brains because he had lost, He had lost against Superman, and he was being sent to a god awful prison for who knows how long, and he had not one atom in his body that cared about preserving his life anymore because he was humiliated, and shameful, and upset–
The surrounding guard's actions were futile as a blast of gunpowder ignited and shot out of the gun, killing Lex Luthor unceremoniously in the back of a prison van.
—-
"We need to shut down the rift-!"
Lex Luthor let out an involuntary yelp as his eyes flew open in a sudden flash of pain. He blinked, and he was very confusingly alive and not laying dead on the cold metal floor of a prison van leaking blood from his head.