[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/CAJhOXG.png[/img][/center] [b]Lexcorp [/b] [b]Metropolis[/b] The 105th floor of the Lexcorp building served as both the office and residence of the company’s owner and CEO. But above that floor was a small penthouse Lex Luthor would retreat to sometimes. He called it the godspot. It contained a full panoramic view of Metropolis, and served as a reminder of where he had come from and where he was now. Somewhere out across the vast expanse of this city was a little rundown tenement building in Suicide Slum. Lex knew it was still there. It was one of the first things he’d bought with his wealth. He let some local drunk manage it for him. He kept rent down for the residence and refused to either renovate the place or tear it down. For Lex the building was another one of his grand experiments. Lexcorp scientists and security monitored the residents, especially the younger ones, and recorded the data that was there. Could that little ramshackle building produce another Lex Luthor? Only time would tell. Part of him hoped that it would end in failure. That would defeat his narrative if he could just be copied and pasted like a file. That would lessen the great man If the same conditions could birth yet another great man. No he firmly believed that what he had achieved had been both a product of his upbringing [i]and[/i]h is natural abilities. Growing up in Suicide Slum had motivated him to use those abilities to great effect. And here he was, lord above all Metropolis. The Lexcorp building straddled the city like a colossus, with Lex atop that colossus and in control. And still… [i]It wasn’t good enough.[/i] “Mr. Luthor.” Lex was seated crossed-legged on the floor of the penthouse. His hands were clasped together and eyes were open, taking in all of the city. The voice was coming from his wrist watch. “Yes, Miss Teschmacher?” “Otis is on the line… he wants to know if he can publish the statement on yesterday’s shuttle landing.” Lex let the question hang in the air. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since that disaster. The press had hounded Lexcorp since the reports of Superman’s intervention. Lucky for Lex the landing site in the Indian Ocean was heavily guarded. No press or anyone else to bother him after Mercy’s smooth landing. But Lex had continued to let his silence linger longer than it should have. Even the president had commented on it quicker than Lex had. “Tell Otis… he can publish the fourth revision,” Lex said into his watch. “The one that mentions failure, and ones ability to overcome it, is what makes us human. It’s what makes us better. Emphasis on the human and better parts.” “Yes, Mr. Luthor.” Lex sighed and stood up. He crossed the penthouse with one hand on his chin and already lost in thought. With the statement on the shuttle failure out there he could move on. Yesterday would not be his last time in space. They already had future projects lined up. As government seemed to balk at the idea of space exploration, it would be up to him to fill the void and push the envelope. He hoped to launch a moon mission sometime within the next four years. After that there was Mars, then the outer planets. If his physics department could manage a breakthrough there would be what was outside the solar system. True extrasolar exploration would be where humanity would find its place among the stars. This planet was dying. It was only a matter of time. This was to save humanity, even if they seemed to resist his attempts. “Aos,” Lex said aloud. “Call Dr. Fine.” “Calling, Dr. Fine,” a robotic voice said from somewhere in the penthouse. Still in the beta stage, the Aos program was a lot like Lexcorp’s space initiative in that it had all the makings of a game changer. Healthcare, security, and quality of life could all be improved by the AI’s cognitive and predictive abilities. While other smart assistants played music and told you the weather Aos had the power to tell you what was going to happen. It just needed more data, more refinement. That’s where Milton came in. “Yes, sir,” Dr. Milton Fine's voice came through the AOS speaker. “What’s on your agenda today, Milton?” “I’m at the free clinic in Suicide-- I mean, Southside. So far we’ve had over two dozen sign up for the AOS program.” “Of course,” said Luthor. “I figure we’ll have over one hundred in the program by the end of the week.” In exchange for wearing an Aos monitor bracelet at all times, poor income residents across Metropolis would receive the finest medical care on Lexcorp’s dime. The bracelets broadcasted vitals of the program members to Lexcorp. Pulse, blood sugar, blood pressure, and oxygen intake were just some of the many vitals the Aos device kept track of. The plan was to take all that information, along with dietary and physical activity history, and create a profile. They could identify which people were predisposed to having heart diseases years before it struck. Cancer could be caught in its earliest stages and treated before any true symptoms began to manifest. “I need to make more tweaks to the AI, but I imagine we can start a fully realized health profile of project members within six months. That should be more than enough data to predict short to mid term health issues. “Data, data, data,” Luthor said softly to himself. “It’s the building blocks of a better future.” Lex ended the call with a request that Fine touch base at the end of the day. He felt better after talking to the doctor. Superman could fly and throw cars around, but he couldn’t offer people health advice. As many people he saved from catastrophe, he couldn’t cure cancer. Yes… let him have the little dog and pony shows. Let him get front page news for saving a handful of people. In one hundred years, cancer would be a thing of the past. Not because some alien had blasted it away with his laser vision. It was because of Aos and Lex Luthor. Superman was the man of tomorrow? Okay, he could have that. Lex Luthor would be the man of the next century. As death was abolished and humanity took to the stars, the name Luthor would be the first name among those that ventured into the void. Lexcorp, Lillian, and Aos was the first step on the road to empire. And no man, no matter how strong, could not stand in the way of empire. [hr] [b]White House Situation Room[/b] “They call themselves the 100.” ARGUS deputy director Maria Hill stood at the end of the conference table while a presentation projected over her shoulder. Calvin sat at the end of the table along with Perry White and Sarge Steel. Displayed on the screen behind Hill was a logo of the number 100 in black, little white stars dotting the numbers. Calvin figured if he counted each star it would put it at one hundred. “We think the name comes from the fact they started initially with one hundred members. We’re not sure how many members they have now, but our best guess is somewhere in the upper hundreds to lower one thousand. They started in the 90’s militia boom after Ruby Ridge, Waco, and the OKC bombing. While other groups have faded, they’ve stayed strong.” Hill clicked the remote in her hand and the picture on the screen changed to a map of the US. Parts of the western US and midwest were highlighted in red. “ARGUS and FBI believe the group operates through the western states, particularly in Montana and North Dakota. Sparsely populated states give them a lot of land and mountain cover to hide out in.” “Where do they get their funding from?” asked Steel. “Internet donations,” said Hill. “Their website advertises both public and anonymous, for anyone a little shy about letting people know what they’re donating to. Oh, and silly me… they also rob banks.” Hill clicked the remote again. The picture on the screen changed to a mugshot. It showed a surly, long haired man with an iron cross tattoo on his cheek and a tattoo around his throat that read “Make America White Again.” “Arthur Blackwood. Confirmed metahuman and multiple times convicted felon. He’s believed to have robbed over fifteen banks for the 100. At last count Blackwood is wanted for murder, arson, assault with a deadly weapon, armed robbery, and a handful of other lesser crimes. All of those are across multiple states. ARGUS surveillance caught this photo two days ago…” The picture changed to a black and white photo of what appeared to be Blackwood on a motorcycle going down a street. “This is Helena, Montana. ARGUS sources say Blackwood is in Helena to do something on behalf of the 100.” “FBI sources and chatter can confirm that,” said Steel. “The suspicion. It seems that leaders in the 100 asked for him by name to go to Helena.” “To what end?” asked Perry White. “You don’t send a piece of garbage like that to just run some guns or to just rob a farmer’s savings & loan.” “ARGUS thinks…” Hill paused. “ARGUS thinks Blackwood is there to do something very bad. Domestic terrorism levels of bad.” “What do you need from me?” Calvin asked. “Presidential approval to collect raw surveillance data from as many people in Helena as possible. Cellphone conversations, messages, internet history, whatever. We need to find out where Blackwood is now so we can monitor him and potentially stop whatever is going down. In short, we need to spy on our own people to find him.” This was the back and forth debate that plagued America ever since 9/11. Spying on the American people to save them from some potential threat. Was the price of freedom security, and vice versa? Calvin leaned back in his hand and rubbed his chin. “You get a forty-eight hour window,” said Calvin. “If we can’t find Blackwood by then, we’ll re-evaluate and see about extending the window.” “Very good,” Hill said, nodding. “Anything DNI can do let us know,” said Steel. “Will do,” said Hill. “Director Waller and I will coordinate with the FBI to get things rolling, Sarge. We’ll reach out after that. Thank you, Mr. President.” “All I can say is good luck,” said Calvin. He checked his watch. It was almost time for his work day to be over. After that it was dinner. And after that? Maybe he could help take a little flight out west… maybe Montana? Who knew where the night would take him.