Wednesday, July 8th, 2009, 3:42 AM
James's Apartment
1247 Riverside Drive, Apt 4B
James spread the stolen documents across his living room floor like a general planning a siege. Bank statements, shipping manifests, corporate filings...all the dry, boring paperwork that made criminals wealthy and kept them out of prison. His journalism background had taught him that the real story was always hidden in the footnotes, buried in the numbers that accountants hoped nobody would examine too closely.
What he'd found in Doctor Phosphorus's laboratory went beyond simple drug manufacturing. The equipment alone had to cost millions, genetic sequencing machines, cellular modification chambers, analysis computers that probably required their own power grid. That kind of operation needed funding that dwarfed typical street-level crime.
Someone with serious money was backing this research. And James was going to find out who.
He started with the obvious connections. The warehouse was owned by Meridian Holdings, a shell company that traced back to Consolidated Services, which was itself owned by Metropolitan Development Group. Three layers of corporate bureaucracy designed to hide the real ownership, but not impossible to penetrate if you knew where to look.
James had learned where to look during his time at the Daily Planet. Corporate crime reporting required following money trails that wound through Delaware incorporation documents, offshore banking records, and subsidiary relationships that looked random but formed patterns when you mapped them correctly.
Metropolitan Development Group led him to a network of businesses that made no economic sense. Sunshine Dry Cleaning processed three times more cash deposits than any legitimate dry cleaner could generate. Wang's Kitchen ordered enough food supplies to feed a small army but served maybe thirty customers on a busy day. Metro Auto Repair claimed to fix more vehicles than they had parking spaces for, with parts orders that suggested they were rebuilding cars from the ground up.
Money laundering. Industrial-scale money laundering that suggested coordination between multiple criminal organizations. But the amounts involved went beyond typical organized crime profits. Someone was washing enough money to fund small armies or major technological development projects.
The breakthrough came when James cross-referenced shipping manifests with bank deposits. Meridian Holdings wasn't just laundering money like common thugs...they were coordinating logistics for operations that spanned three states and involved shipping containers full of equipment that wasn't being declared to customs officials.
And all of it traced back to LexCorp.
Not directly. Lex Luthor was too smart to have his name on anything obviously criminal. But subsidiary companies, shipping partnerships, and corporate consulting agreements created a web of connections that funneled money and resources through his business empire like blood through arteries.
James leaned back against his couch, processing what he'd discovered. Either Lex Luthor was the most incompetent businessman in human history, allowing criminals to use his corporate infrastructure without his knowledge, or he was actively coordinating a criminal conspiracy that made traditional organized crime look like amateur hour.
Given Luthor's reputation for micromanaging every aspect of his business empire, incompetence seemed unlikely.
Wednesday, July 8th, 2009, 11:27 PM
LexCorp Subsidiary Building
Industrial District
Breaking into a LexCorp facility required a different approach than warehouse raids or street-level surveillance. Corporate security meant cameras, motion detectors, pressure plates, and probably a few surprises that weren't listed in any manual.
Fortunately, James's enhanced senses gave him advantages that no security designer had anticipated.
He could hear the electronic hum of camera servos tracking predetermined patterns, smell the ozone from motion detector grids, feel the subtle vibrations of pressure-sensitive floor tiles through the building's structure. What looked like impenetrable security to normal humans was just another puzzle to solve.
James scaled the building's exterior using window frames and architectural details that would have been invisible handholds to anyone without his abilities. The fourth-floor accounting department was his target, far enough from street level to avoid casual observation, close enough to the executive offices to handle sensitive financial records.
The window lock took him thirty seconds to bypass. Corporate security focused on keeping people out, not on stopping someone who could manipulate metal with the precision of a surgeon. James slipped inside and stood motionless, letting his senses map the office space.
Empty. No heartbeats, no breathing, no scent of recent human occupation. The cleaning crew had finished hours ago, leaving behind the smell of industrial disinfectant and the electric hum of computers in standby mode.
James moved through the office space like a ghost, avoiding motion detector grids and pressure plates with the fluid grace that had become second nature. The accounting department's central server was exactly where building schematics suggested it would be locked inside a climate-controlled room that probably cost more than most people's houses.
The electronic lock was more sophisticated than a simple window latch, but not beyond his capabilities. James had learned that most security systems assumed attackers would use brute force rather than surgical precision. Nobody designed locks to resist someone who could hear individual circuit components and feel electromagnetic fields through the air.
The server room door clicked open with a sound like expensive machinery admitting defeat.
Inside, rows of servers hummed with the quiet efficiency of machines processing vast amounts of data. James connected a USB drive to the accounting terminal and began copying financial records that would probably send half of LexCorp's executive staff to federal prison.
What he found made his blood run cold.
Millions of dollars flowing through shell companies with names that read like science fiction. Genetic Solutions, Enhanced Human Research, Metahuman Development Initiative. Money that originated from legitimate LexCorp operations but disappeared into a network of subsidiaries that existed only on paper.
The financial records showed equipment purchases that painted a disturbing picture... genetic sequencing machines, cellular modification chambers, containment systems designed for "enhanced human subjects." Someone was funding human experimentation on an industrial scale, using Luthor's corporate empire as cover.
What the fuck...
James scrolled through shipping manifests that detailed deliveries to facilities in seven different states. Medical equipment, laboratory supplies, and something listed as "biological samples" being transported to research centers that weren't registered with any government oversight agency.
The amounts involved staggered him. We're talking about funding comparable to NASA's annual budget, all of it flowing through criminal networks that operated beneath the government's radar. This was a shadow corporation with resources that could challenge national governments.
A soft chime from his phone made James freeze. Motion detector triggered on the building's ground floor. Security guard making his rounds, probably following a predetermined pattern that would bring him to the fourth floor in about ten minutes.
James copied the remaining files and disconnected his USB drive, then retraced his path through the office space. The window he'd entered through was still open, night air carrying the scent of rain and distant traffic.
But as he prepared to leave, something made him pause. A sound that didn't belong, the soft whisper of expensive shoes on carpet, moving with the careful precision of someone who knew exactly where the motion detectors were positioned.
Someone else was in the building. Someone who belonged here.
James pressed himself against the wall beside the window, listening to footsteps that approached with the confidence of ownership. Expensive cologne, steady heartbeat, breathing patterns that suggested good physical condition and complete comfort in this environment.
The footsteps stopped outside the accounting department. A key card swiped through an electronic reader, and the door opened with a soft pneumatic hiss.
"I know you're here," a familiar voice said quietly. "The motion detectors show someone moving through the building, but the cameras show nothing. Interesting capabilities."
Lex Luthor stepped into the office space, scanning the darkness with the calm assurance of someone accustomed to being the smartest person in any room.
"We should talk," Luthor continued, moving toward the window where James was hidden. "Professional to professional."
James had two choices... fight his way out, or find out what Lex Luthor wanted to discuss with a breaking-and-entering vigilante who'd just stolen his financial records.
The smart choice was obvious.
But James had never been particularly smart about backing down from dangerous situations.
"Mr. Luthor," he said, stepping out of the shadows. "Working late?"
Luthor smiled, and the expression was all teeth and predatory satisfaction. "Daredevil, I presume? Or do you prefer 'Man in Black'? The criminals you've been terrorizing can't seem to agree on your preferred designation."
"You can call me interested in your business practices."
"How refreshing. Most people are more interested in my public relations campaigns." Luthor moved to his desk and activated a small device that James's enhanced hearing identified as some kind of electronic scrambler. "I trust you found the financial records illuminating?"
"Illuminating enough."
"Good. Then you understand that what you've stumbled into goes far beyond street-level crime. The operations you've been disrupting are part of something much larger. Much more important."
James felt his hands clench into fists. "Important like human experimentation? Important like kidnapping people and turning them into lab rats?"
"Important like evolution, Mr. Daredevil. Like ensuring that humanity survives what's coming."
"What's coming?"
Luthor walked to the window and looked out at Metropolis sprawling beneath them. "Alien invasion. Cosmic threats that make street crime look like children playing with toys. Enemies with technology that could render conventional military forces obsolete."
"So you decided to build your own army of enhanced humans?"
"I decided to give humanity a fighting chance." Luthor turned back to face him. "The heroes you admire, Superman, Wonder Woman, the others....they won't be enough. When the real threats arrive, we'll need soldiers who can match alien capabilities. Enhanced humans who can fight on their level."
James absorbed this information, trying to separate truth from manipulation. "And the people who disappear? The ones who don't survive your enhancement process?"
"Acceptable losses in service of a greater cause."
"Acceptable to who?"
Luthor's smile turned cold. "To someone who understands that individual lives matter less than species survival."
James took a step forward, and something in his posture made Luthor's hand move toward what was probably a weapon. "Here's what I understand, Mr. Luthor. You're using corporate resources to fund human trafficking and genetic experimentation. You're kidnapping people and turning them into weapons. And you're doing it all while pretending to be humanity's savior."
"And what do you intend to do about it?"
"Stop you."
Luthor laughed, a sound like expensive crystal breaking. "With what resources? You're one man with enhanced senses and a talent for violence. I have corporate assets worth hundreds of billions of dollars, political connections that span multiple governments, and research facilities that could revolutionize human evolution."
"I have something you don't."
"Which is?"
James smiled behind his mask. "Nothing to fucking lose, not anymore."
Luthor was faster than James had expected, clearly enhanced himself, with reflexes and strength that suggested he'd been sampling his own research. But enhancement without training was just expensive overconfidence.
Luthor's hand moved toward his jacket with inhuman speed, pulling a weapon that looked like a cross between a taser and a ray gun. Energy crackled along its barrel as he brought it to bear.
James was already moving. He dove left as the first energy blast scorched the air where he'd been standing, the smell of ozone and burned plastic filling the office. The shot hit the wall behind him, leaving a scorch mark that went straight through to the next room.
"Apokoliptian technology," Luthor said conversationally, tracking James's movement. "Much more efficient than conventional weapons."
James rolled behind a desk as another energy blast vaporized a computer monitor. Luthor wasn't just faster than expected, he was inhumanly fast, moving with reflexes that suggested serious enhancement. But fast reflexes without proper training were just expensive overconfidence.
The third shot went wide as James came up from behind the desk, grabbing a stapler and hurling it at Luthor's face. The businessman ducked with fluid grace, but the movement threw off his aim. James closed the distance in three quick steps.
Luthor tried to bring the weapon around for a point-blank shot. James grabbed his wrist, twisted until he heard bones creak, then drove his knee into Luthor's elbow. The energy weapon clattered across the floor.
"Enhanced strength," James observed, blocking a punch that would have taken his head off. "Enhanced speed. But nobody taught you how to actually fight. Nobody good enough...that is."
Luthor's response was a haymaker that James ducked easily, followed by an attempt at a tackle that James sidestepped like a matador avoiding a bull. Enhanced physical capabilities without martial arts training just meant you could throw harder punches and miss faster.
James grabbed Luthor by the shoulders and drove his forehead into the businessman's nose. Cartilage crunched, blood sprayed, and Luthor staggered backward into his own desk.
"You think brute force is enough," James said, advancing steadily. "You think enhanced muscles and being smart make you dangerous."
Luthor wiped blood from his face and smiled through the pain. "You have no idea what world you've stepped in.... Do you know how many enhanced soldiers I have on my payroll? How many facilities like the one you destroyed?"
James answered by grabbing Luthor's tie and using it to pull him forward into an uppercut that lifted him off his feet. The businessman hit the wall hard enough to crack the drywall, then slumped to the floor in a dazed heap.
"Resources don't help when you're unconscious," James said, pulling zip ties from his pocket.
But Luthor wasn't done. As James knelt to secure his hands, the businessman's eyes snapped open and he drove a hidden knife into James's ribs. The blade skittered off reinforced fabric with a metallic screech.
"Kevlar weave," James explained, grabbing Luthor's knife hand and twisting until the weapon dropped. "My dealer does excellent work."
He drove his fist into Luthor's solar plexus, doubling him over, then grabbed the back of his head and introduced his face to the desk surface. Luthor went limp like a puppet with cut strings.
James zip-tied Luthor's hands behind his back, then secured him to his own desk chair with enough plastic restraints to hold someone with enhanced strength. The businessman would wake up in about twenty minutes with a headache and a bruised ego.
James left Lex Luthor zip-tied to his own desk chair, unconscious but breathing, with a note that read: "Courtesy of a concerned citizen who doesn't like kidnappers."
The USB drive full of financial records would find its way to journalists.