False Reflections: Issue #9

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Issue #9

Now. When the only real competitor to your current employer’s near monopoly goes out of his way to recruit you for his personal employment, there are several reasons why your only option is to reject him.

Firstly, you need to wonder- why you? Specifically in my case, what could a particularly divisive hot-topic ‘genius child inventor’ offer to Lex Luthor himself.

It’s well known that Lex himself is an orphan after a tragic automotive accident that took both his parents' lives, and after seeing the man for the first time I cannot believe anyone actually bought the crock of shit that his parent’s death was an accident.

I know more than anyone all the little costs it takes to make an invention to break your way out of poverty, and from the countless documentaries about the living testament of rags to riches, he definitely didn’t have the option to do much else.

A man who can commit murder for the express purpose of both gaining resources and a tragic enough sob story to appeal to the masses, and therefore the PR teams of every associate he’s climbed over to get to where he is… isn’t someone you want personally seeking you out.

Secondly, this dumb motherfucker fights Superman for a living. Oh, it’s oh so surprising to hear, when every third or fourth invention/unveiling ends up being canceled after Superman gets his ass kicked or hit with radioactive space-dust.

I want nothing to do with someone who fights a guy whose known for being the literal nicest guy on the planet, and I especially want to reason to go anywhere near the cavalcade of destruction that is Metropolis. 

You think Gotham is bad with it’s crime? At least we don’t have fucking space robots coming from the sky to challenge the most powerful thing on Earth to a superpowered dick measuring contest in the streets!

Personally I’d rather deal with the human-level crazies, thank you very much.

And my final, and somehow most important reason why I’d never even consider working with Lex fucking Luthor, is the fact that my entire trip has been manipulated by him the entire time.

After all, isn’t everything a bit too convenient? The rich bastards who are already under scrutiny from bullying the poor orphan whose ‘reaching beyond his station’, why the fuck would they almost deliberately send me to a completely different location.

And why oh why, would that different location be where Lex Luthor had two or more thieves ready to rob me as a test of my mettle. Did he really think I wouldn’t come to the conclusion that he’s manipulated everything around me this entire time to turn things in his favor?

Of course he did, he just assumed I would be cowed by the intimidation of his ability to twist the world around me to his will. He could’ve bought an assassin as easily as he did a thief, after all.

But the most important part was the ‘test’. It meant that he’d invaded my privacy, bribed and blackmailed various people around me, sent a honeypot my way as a distraction/bait, all so I could prove I was worth the investment.

Like he wasn’t going to take the one thing I had and sell it out first, probably making claims that I’d somehow stolen the idea, kicking me down into the dirt and leaving me worse than ever before.

What kind of fucking idiot would ever work for someone whose made it so perfectly clear they’d betray and abandon them the second they thought it was more profitable than sticking around?

“I’m not interested.” I told the sharp-eyed multi-billionaire, and pointedly didn’t react to the tensing of his assistant’s shoulders. “If that’s all, let’s both be on our way.” I decided not to turn my back to the pair of them, and instead tilted my head to their car, implying they should go back inside.

“Whyever not? Ken, my company can give you a multitude of things that Wayne’s can’t. Influence, connections, contacts. Opportunities that Bruce Wayne couldn’t comprehend.” He spoke, and I could practically feel his charisma washing over me, trying to tug me into believing in his words.

Because I believed him. I believed a man as cunning and cruel to pull all of this just to test one kid to see if he was worth investing anything in, would be able to give me things Bruce Wayne couldn’t.

Because despite being old money, and having generations upon generations of contacts with people all over the world since the country’s founding, Luthor’s first generation of LexCorp was it’s main and only rival.

Luthor, the poor super genius orphan who I knew carved his place to the top of society with nothing but his sharp mind and unhindered ruthlessness. Who sought to connect to me on a common level- our willingness to do anything to reach the top.

Bruce Wayne, for all the tragedy that had struck him early in life, wasn’t like us. He was born rich, and didn’t need to do anything other than not fuck everything up to stay that way. The same way Dick Grayson wasn’t like us- adopted by one of the richest men in the world.

That didn’t make them bad people, despite how those envious of that inherited wealth made it seem. But they couldn’t understand how it felt, the burning in the back of your throat as you nearly threw up from how hungry you were.

The way you had to watch your every step whenever you went out, grabbing everything you had with white knuckles, not because it was expensive but because it was all you had. The fact that you knew, without a doubt, no one would bother looking for you.

Luthor thought those experiences made us the same, but he forgot one single thing.

My intelligence may be a lie, but I wasn’t so quick to forget someone who stuck their neck out for me for no reason other than he could. Once in that meeting in Wayne Enterprises, where Bruce himself raised two hands in favor of using the device, practically screaming his approval.

Again when he sent that scholarship, despite how irritating everything that followed proved to be.

And finally, when the people of that same school proved to be cruel to me, he didn’t hesitate to throw his weight and expose it all to the world.

Gotham is a shithole. I know it better than anyone, how cruel it is, and how much crueler you have to be to survive it.

Maybe one day, if I didn’t have my Facade, I would become cruel as well. Like Luthor. But I wasn’t, so I knew that I had a debt to be repaid- in kindness.

Also I don’t think I could look at the increased additions to my bank account, and stop myself from trying to solve exactly how much was my own efforts compared to the price of selling out my loyalties and dignity to this guy.

But I couldn’t explain all this to him- he fights the nicest guy on Earth for fun, he wouldn’t understand the genuine, albeit foolish sentiment behind my rejection. Also this enhanced brain power was very nice and I’d rather not lose it so quickly.

So instead I told him the only words that’d make sense to him. “Who’d want an employee that folded so easily on the first meeting, especially during his vacation?”

“... Ah.” To him, my words were a slap on the face with one of my prior reasons for saying no. It was child prodigy for ‘No I don’t want to talk about my work during my vacation, you fucking stalker!’ And it seems Lex was realizing how much of his bullshit I was seeing through. “Apologies, I seem to have gotten a bit overeager in my recruitment efforts. Things like these happen, you understand.”

Ah, appealing to sympathy after intimidation and pragmatism didn’t work? I could respect the shamelessness, at least. Especially going after an assumed single mindedness in my efforts- which may not be as false as I thought they were, on second thought.

And much more obvious the more research is done on my activities-

I pointedly didn’t react to the thought that just flashed in my head. The thought that ‘Rachel’ and her disguise weren’t an actual honeypot, but a signal of awareness of my activities as James the Douche.

And Cassie, the blonde, passive girl whose half-hearted attempts at dissuading his advances only spurred him on more.

Damn, he was good. And the fact it took me this long to realize that, and another boost from the bastard himself was proof that for all my apparent accolades I didn’t really compare to the real geniuses of the world.

“I get it. You get lost chasing what you want, and don’t stop to think about consequences until it’s already in your hands.”

Luthor smiled. “Thank you for understanding. I promise next time, we’ll both be better prepared so I can bring my offer to Light.”

With that, wearing the mask of a sympathetic yet ruthless figure and appealing to an orphan’s attachment issues, Lex Luthor got back in his car and drove off without sparing me a single glance.

… god I’m tired…

I’m proud to say it took a few weeks before I finally broke down. After the worst, and only, vacation I’d ever been on ended I came back to Gotham right as the summer heat really began kicking in. Since Gotham is built dangerously close to a swamp, the humidity during the summer months is enough to boil a crab, making it outright torturous for people to go out most of the time.

Thankfully, Ryu is nothing if not resilient, but that doesn’t really help with the usual summer crime spree now that so many people are out and about nowadays. And considering I’d completely lost my police detail by the time I came back to Gotham…

“Give me everything you got, you fucking traitor!” The red-faced teenager spat at me, shaking a switchblade in my general direction after I ‘randomly’ went into a dark alley with no other witnesses. “You think you’re so much better than us, just because you were born smart!”

At that point I began tuning him out, because I’ve had this exact same thing screamed at me for weeks at this point. Oh you must be looking down on us now that the orphan’s crawled out of the gutter and landed on his knees behind an Old Money desk. 

Just because you rub elbows with the rich, don’t forget you’re worse than all of us, you delayed abortion.

Don’t think - oh he’s saying that one right now.

“- that all that money makes you more than a shitstain to me!” Fuck man, it’s almost like everyone’s rehearsed these speeches at this point. But it’s not like I can just sit back and not do anything all summer.

A fair bit of the research I’m doing into meta-biology can’t be done in my apartment, after all.

“Open your fucking ears and give me your wallet, or was your whore mother-” The teenager never got the chance to finish the insult, because in that moment I snapped. It wasn’t the orphan joke, or the whore mother thing. I’d been hearing them my entire life, they don’t even provoke a reaction anymore- especially if it’s screamed at me.

But, for a second, I remembered how the only person who’d ever actually talked to me was a honeypot/thief who was hired to catch me off guard. That she was the only person I can even remember talking about something for the sake of making conversation.

And how even she treats me better than the people I’ve spent my whole life catering to, building an image of knowledge and awareness. Ken the Prodigy wasn’t the nicest or most sociable guy out there, but is that enough reason that I was getting held at knife point by a classmate who didn’t even remember my goddamn name?

… One thing about threatening someone with a knife? You have to be close enough, and fast enough, for the point to get across. And Ryu wasn’t the kind of guy who’d be caught off guard by a teenager going through withdrawals.

A firm smack to the still-shaking hand sent the blade tumbling out of his fingers, and by the time his eyes began widening my fist was already digging into the spot I knew his kidneys would be.

He doubled over on the spot, and I quickly stepped out of the way as he began retching onto the street before collapsing onto his side.

I paused for a few seconds, idly remembering that I was just about to get to the part where the papers explained how anomalous energies and substances could react when a person with a meta gene is exposed to enough of them… before going ahead and calling 911-

“We’re sorry, currently the emergency service lines are completely filled with calls. Please stay where you are and call again at a later time.”

… That can happen?

I looked over at the unconscious guy on the ground, groaning with his own vomit dripping from his lips.

The nearest hospital was several miles away, but with the current crime spree here I wouldn’t be caught dead in a public place like that. Especially with the Joker out and about now.

… Fuck Batman and his stalker kids for forcing their ideas of heroism on me. And yes, I know that isn’t how my powers work, but fuck them and fuck me for having a sense of morals for the guy about to fucking rob me.

Ugh, but even thinking further on it, if he survives I’d rather have him think I’m a softie than a bastard who left him for dead. Druggies could be petty like that, especially if they were the original aggressors.

Fuck it, I’m already in too deep, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. Crime Alley it is.

Crime Alley is famous for three things. One, well, it’s in the fucking name. A shit ton of crime happens specifically on this street making it the number one spot for all the worst kinds of crime to happen, due almost entirely to the second reason it’s so famous.

When Crime Alley was still Park Row, Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered by some random guy. Considering the vast amounts of charity and love the city at large had for the late Waynes, almost everyone with any semblance of power pulled out of the street in protest for the negligence and cruelty that ended their lives.

Unfortunately, when every investor, politician, and CEO decides that street in particular belongs to the devil… well, the street becomes a lot worse due to the lack of infrastructure. Buildings become abandoned and condemned, roads are filled with broken glass and litter, and everyone who knows how to pick a pocket decides it’s safer to do it on the road no one cares about.

So in the city's grief, the Waynes’ murder becomes the bullet that kills the very street they died on.

Which leads to Thompkin’s Clinic, a free charity clinic that accepts even the most unapologetic criminals and treats them without question or condemnation. Created in memory of Dr. Thomas Wayne, it’s a large reason why most of the people in this city haven’t straight up died yet.

In fact, it’s become well known to even normal (for Gotham) people that the Clinic is a safe zone the second you enter.

So naturally I ended up disguising myself as Ryu (always carry spare clothes, especially when you’re hiding your identity) and carried my assailant all the way to the one place in the city that’d treat him.

And to my earnest surprise, the place was still standing when I got there. The giant statue of a man took one look at the lug I carried over my shoulder like the scrawny sack of potatoes he is, and waved me inside without question.

I handed the guy over to one of the many overworked nurses, and immediately afterwards a different bodyguard patted me down for any weapons. When they realized I was completely unarmed, I was led to another room where an old woman in a white coat was waiting.

“What’s a kid like you doing all the way down here?” She asked, and for an instant I wondered if she knew my identity- but she would’ve been more direct if it were something like that. Much more likely, was that she assumed I wasn’t someone who had anything to do with Crime Alley based on how I dressed and acted. Ryu was the closest identity I had to a ‘Normal Kid’, after all.

Still, I straightened my back and spoke clearly and unquestionably. “I’d rather not be outed in the crime capital of the city while I’m still here, Dr. Thompkins.” My words were cutting and poignant, the messy haired woman nodding reluctantly at my words.

“I understand, but you wouldn’t have this problem if you didn’t walk straight into the ‘crime capital’ with an addict draped over your shoulder like a used carpet.” My sigh was strained, while I immediately began attempting to salvage this entire encounter.

“Well, the guy I brought had collapsed after trying to rob me,” Her eyebrow raised at that, but I ignored her. “And I didn’t want his death on my conscience, so I brought him to the one place that wouldn’t ask the questions you’re currently asking.”

“... You’re a good kid.” The good doctor suddenly spoke up, and I stopped myself from reacting to the sudden compliment. “But you really shouldn’t be here- whatever issues you’ve been having are nothing compared to what the residents would do to you.”

I intentionally made a grimace on my face at the idea of what could happen to me. “Yeah I know, but again I’d rather not have nightmares about what’d happen to him if I left him twitching in a pool of his own vomit. So, now that I’ve been properly warned off, am I free to go?”

I still had some research to do today, and this pit stop is really cutting into my-

“Well hello infidels of Crime Alley!” A loud, boisterous, and southern woman’s voice came in from the front doors of the Clinic. My eyes naturally looked skyward, and I begged whoever was listening to give me a goddamn explanation on why this shit keeps happening to me! “Now, now, no need for all the screamin’ and cryin’, ole’ Harley’s a healthcare professional just like y’all! C’mon now, turn those frowns upside down!”

… Next time I’ll leave the guy to get fucking stabbed.

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while, Finals Week is coming up so I’ve been rushing to put everything together for everything. Might be time for a lot of half-finished chapters to come flooding through, no promises though.

And again, Ken’s completely awful string of luck continues almost seamlessly. Though to be fair, he did recently come across a black cat or two during his trip.

Thank you all for reading, Peace.