Superman Movieverse Forum

Title: Family Reunion
Author: Mr. Beeto
Rating: PG-13
Beta: htbthomas and Shado Librarian
Summary: AU Twist on Donner/Singer Movieverse: Tie the three films together into a cohesive whole, and provide a more credible and interesting reason for Superman to have returned to Krypton.

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Author’s Notes:
In Superman canon, Lex Luthor is an avid opera fan, and this chapter includes references to Wagner’s famous opera tetralogy, Der Ring des Nibelungen (or in English, The Ring of Nibelung).  Also, I must admit to some inspiration for the opera dialog between Lex and Kitty from Marv Wolfman’s Superman Returns novel, © 2006, DC Comics, though I put a different twist on it.

Thanks again to the beta team of htbthomas and Shado Librarian, a.k.a. dandello.

Chapter 26 – The Best Laid Schemes

Saturday, September 30, 2006 7:50PM EDT
The audience at the New York Metropolitan Opera was eager with anticipation in the few minutes before the critically acclaimed performance of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung was scheduled to begin.  Among them was Lex Luthor, sitting comfortably next to Kitty Kowalski in one of the Performance Tier boxes.  For Lex, it was even more anxiously anticipated, after being forced for forgo the first three operas of the Wagner’s tetralogy presented earlier that week in order to get his stalled crystal exploitation project back on track.  After finally acquiring the kryptonite essential to his plans from the Harvard Museum of Natural History, they’d cruised to New York City, depositing their Boston ‘recruits’ in Davy Jones’ Locker on the way.  Not even Kitty’s grumbling could ruin his good mood as he awaited the performance.

His companion was still complaining about the distraction he’d scheduled for the Man of Steel in Boston, a contingency for the slim chance that the freak was close enough to interfere with the museum heist.  However, the alien was a no-show, as Lex had expected, and Kitty had slammed her sabotaged car into a crowded Boston restaurant, killing two of its patrons and wounding a half dozen more.  She’d also been injured in the crash, suffering two cracked ribs when the vehicle’s air bag failed to deploy.  After she returned to the yacht a few hours later, she had been furious with him for cutting the brake line, and her disposition had improved very little since then.  He heard her swear under her breath and glanced over at her, sitting stiffly in her chair.

She caught his stare and complained, “Why’d you have to drag me here?  I should be home recuperating.”

“Stop complaining, Kitty,” Luthor told her condescending.  “You’re plenty doped up enough to tolerate your mild discomfort.  Besides, you should consider yourself quite fortunate for this privilege.  You’ve about to enjoy a rare performance of Götterdämmerung, the ‘Twilight of the Gods’ – one of the best operas ever written, and you’d be hard pressed to find a production more expertly performed, if the critics can be trusted.  And, of course, the hero dies, which is my favorite part!

“Your favorite part?” Kitty asked edgily.

“Of course!” Lex informed her pompously.  “He’s a naïve fool, undeserving of his power – the Ring of Nebelung, in this case.”

“The what?”

“It’s a ring made from the magical substance called Rheingold that enables the bearer to rule the world,” Lex explained.  “But the hero, Siegfried, doesn’t appreciate its power and gives it up for a woman.  He’s also so blind to the enemies around him, that he is easily manipulated by them, tricked or drugged into fighting their battles, and he’s stupid enough to turn his back to them.  He deserves to die.”

“It’s just an opera, Lex” she replied impatiently.

“Just an opera?” Lex echoed in disbelief.  “Is the Mona Lisa just a painting?  Is the Queen Mary II just a boat?  Is the Tizona just a sword?”

“Tizona?”

“The sword used by El Cid Campeador, a brilliant Castilian military strategist and warrior who lived a thousand years ago…  Anyway, Wagner’s Ring series might just be the best opera of all time.  It’s both the music and the story, which culminates in the death of the hero and the gods, followed shortly thereafter by the end of their world!  Don’t you see the correlation to our current circumstances?”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“It’s one of my most endearing traits,” Lex declared.

“It doesn’t seem so special to me,” Kitty commented impatiently.

“You have no appreciation for the masters,” Lex declared condescending.  “As I said, this masterpiece is one of the greatest operas of all time, and one of the few things that I couldn’t have improved upon.  My talents are many, but they don’t include composing opera.  You might say that’s my only fault.”

“I might, but I won’t.” Kitty deadpanned.

“Pay close attention to this Kitty,” Lex instructed her.  “It will foreshadow the dawn of enlightenment that will come when my greatness rains down upon us.”

“You’re still not convincing me,” Kitty replied irritably, unimpressed.

“Gods are going to die here, Kitty.  Worlds, too. Nothing’s ever going to be the same.”

“Whatever,” Kitty said dismissively.

Lex fumed at his companion.  Some fools refuse to believe without seeing, but she’ll soon see, Lex thought.  They’ll all see and they’ll be forced to recognize my greatness.  Lex turned from Kitty and contemplated his brilliant plan and the late adjustments he’d been forced to make.  He’d originally intended for the theatrical conclusion of Wagner’s masterpiece to be the harbinger of his ascension to power.  He’d create his version of Götterdämmerung immediately after the final curtain of the production.

What could be more fitting than to follow Wagner’s superb opera depicting the end of the gods and the world with the death of the alien superhero/would-be god and the destruction of the world that had embraced him?  Just as Wagner’s hero, Siegfried, only learned fear when he felt Hagen’s spear pierce his back, the freak would finally learn to fear Lex Luthor when he plunged the kryptonite into his back.  He deserved it for his folly.  Hiding the Kryptonian equivalent to Rheingold under the floor of his Fortress was nearly as foolish as Wotan entrusting something so powerful to the safekeeping of the naïve Rheinmaidens.  Lex now had Krypton’s crystalline Rheingold, but unlike Alberich, the villain who stole the Rheingold in Wagner’s tetralogy, Lex would not be tricked out of his power.

Unfortunately, despite the genius of his plan, it had been intolerably delayed by its dependency on fools who were anything but dependable.  Most notably among these was his exorbitant lawyer, who should have already wrestled control of the Vanderworth’s twelve billion dollar estate away from them and transferred the assets to the European market.  The fool had instead been outmaneuvered by the family’s lawyers and thus Lex’s inheritance languished in the endangered domestic markets that that would be destroyed when he rose to power.  Morrison hadn’t even been able to force the old hag’s cremation in a month’s time.  That failure was further exacerbated by the betrayal of the coroner’s investigator that he had ‘recruited’, leading the Chief Medical Examiner to reopen the inquiry into Gertrude’s death.  Those cascading failures had forced Lex to assume control of the situation and send the men on a helicopter flight to Metropolis to destroy the old crone’s corpse.  Perhaps now that the cadaver was ‘misplaced’, they could finally free his money from her greedy relatives.

The time table for his grand plan had also been disrupted by unexpected delays acquiring the remaining equipment he needed.  The parts had been back-ordered, a casualty of the spike in demand that occurred when those affected by the EMP sought to replace their fried equipment.  While Lex had been detained in Boston, the shaping tools he’d ordered and paid for in advance had been picked up by an unnamed customer from Metropolis, and the replacements would not arrive until Tuesday.  The electronic components required for his improved alpha scanner were similarly back-ordered, and not expected until Wednesday morning.  What a pathetic waste, Lex thought.  The places that they sent my parts to won’t even exist a week from now...

Even his black-market order for a Russian R-73 missile system had been stalled in the chaos left by the EMP.  The missile system was required to deploy his continental ‘seed’ at a safe stand-off distance and had been ordered shortly after formulating his continental growth plan.  However, his spineless supplier had temporarily suspended his sales due to the increased law enforcement pressure in the wake of the EMP.  Unfortunately, he was also the only supplier who also had a surface based launcher for the air-to-air missile, which meant they’d either have to take it by force, or endure another delay while Lex designed and built one himself.   He would not tolerate another delay – he’d send the men to confiscate his property early the following morning.

“How long before this crap is over?” Kitty asked derisively, interrupting Luthor from his ruminations.

Lex glared at his companion and barked, “Quiet!”   He was distracted from voicing the reprimand he intended by the dimming of the theater lights and the orchestra halting their tuning exercises.  He pushed the squabbling from his mind and turned his attention to the stage in anxious anticipation of the performance of the critically acclaimed production.



Sunday, October 1, 2006 6:30AM EDT
Lex yawned dramatically as he sat in front of his PC reviewing his designs.  It had been a short night.  The previous evening’s epic five-hour performance of Götterdämerung hadn’t ended until well past midnight, and he’d been up at four o’clock to make sure the men got out on their assignment on time.  Since sleep was certain to have eluded him until the mission was complete, Lex had taken the opportunity to review his plans and financial projections, making subtle adjustments to reflect the timeline’s current dependencies.  Despite the delays, things were at last coming together for the inevitable conclusion in a few days time.  He wearily reread the formulas on the screen in front him, blinking rapidly as he sought to shake off his fatigue.  He finally suspended his review and pushed himself away from the computer, and glanced at his watch.  Six thirty, he thought.  The caterers should be here with breakfast.

Lex arrived in the dining room just as the caterer’s finished setting the last of the covered plates on the main table.  After the briefest of greetings, he dismissed them and walked to the head of the table, briefly lifting the silver cover over his plate to reveal the delectable vegetable frittata that he’d ordered from their menu the previous day.  He replaced the cover with care, and walked over to a control panel near the door.  A moment later, the soothing sounds of Vivaldi’s Spring filled the room, and Lex sat down at the table and dug into his breakfast.  He savored the flavor of the first bite and reflected that it had been a wise decision to have his meals catered whenever possible.  Although Kitty’s cooking could get by in a crunch, she simply hadn’t the skill to satisfy his palate as the caterer could.

As Lex continued his meal, his thoughts turned to the morning’s mission.  If all went according to his masterful plan, they would return with the missile launcher and six R-73 air-to-air missiles.  One of the missiles would need to be modified for the crystal deployment, welding its variable wings in a fixed position, disabling the infra-red guidance system and reconfiguring the interior chamber for his crystal payload.  It would an enjoyable afternoon’s distraction.  He’d also have the last missing components that he needed in three days time, and would finally launch into action the master plan so rudely disrupted by the freak’s return.  Just a few more days, Lex pondered gleefully.

He was barely halfway through his meal when he heard the thumping of the helicopter’s rotors intruding on the concerto.  Lex looked at his watch and thought, They’re back right on time.  He put the silver plate cover back over his meal and left the room to meet the men on the helipad.  He reached the top of the stairs just as Stanford was shutting down the engine, and quickly jogged over to the aircraft.  Reilly exited the passenger door facing him, and Lex immediately noticed the man’s black eye and swollen nose.  “Run into trouble?” he asked.

“You should see the other guy,” Reilly replied proudly.  “We did just like you asked, no problem.  Grant and Brutus are ditching the van, and they should be back in an hour or so.”

Luthor nodded, and then demanded, “Let’s see it.”

Reilly opened the back door of the helicopter and with Stanford’s help pulled out the ten foot long aluminum crate from the back seat and set in on the deck.  Lex unlatched it, and inspected the bounty.  All missiles were accounted for, along with the launcher and control system.  Satisfied with their prize, he instructed Reilly, “Get the launcher mounted on the stern.  I don’t care if the instructions are in Russian.”

When Lex returned to the dining room, Kitty was slowly walking to the table with her arms wrapped around herself and a grimace on her face.   “Why does everyone have to make so much noise so early,” she complained.  “I’m still supposed to be recuperating from your attempt to kill me.”

“Kitty, my dear, if I really wanted you dead, you’d be much quieter right now,” Lex replied dismissively.  Kitty ignored Lex’s implied threat, and took the seat beside him, flipping her coffee cup right side up, filling it from the carafe, and uncovering the frittata on the plate in front of her.  As she started in on her breakfast, Lex sat back down at the table and resumed his meal, skimming the headlines of the complimentary paper that the caterer had left as he ate.  The New York Times definitely had more of a political inclination to it than the Planet did, choosing as its top story the coming mid-term elections and the influence of a recent scandal involving underage congressional pages.  Meaningless, Lex declared to himself.  They won’t have a country left to rule in a few more days.

He flipped the page and quickly moved on to the other stories, searching for news that was more relevant to his plans.  He found nothing new on the government’s EMP investigation – only human interest stories on the recovery efforts, mostly in Metropolis, which was the hardest hit.  He also noted that the paper was severely lacking in its coverage of Superman’s activities.  That alone might merit a subscription, if the paper was still going to be around after I remake this world, he thought.

Lex finished his meal and continued to browse through the paper.  Several minutes later, a short article in the national section caught his attention, with the headline, ‘One Dead in Metropolis Morgue Break-In’.  His eyes went wide and he thought, They better not have screwed that up.  The Times article was frustratingly short - only a single paragraph.  However, its brief description correlated with the timetable that he had laid out for the men’s errand.  Their instructions were to secretly remove Gertrude’s body from morgue and incinerate it in the basement of a Suicide Slum tenement.  They had obviously bungled the mission but lied to cover themselves when they had reported in. 

“Those idiots!” Lex bellowed.  He fumed at his hired help’s idiocy and the brevity of the Times article before it occurred to him that the Planet would likely have covered the Metropolis story in far greater detail.

“What’s the problem this time, Lex?” Kitty asked impatiently.

“Don’t start with me,” he warned, glaring at Kitty before rising from his seat and marching out of the room, and heading towards the ballroom where he’d set up his office.

After he logged into his computer and pulled up the Planet’s web page, Lex was horrified to discover that the morgue break-in was their top story.  Displayed in bold letters across the top of the page was the headline, ‘Murder at the Morgue’.  Even more disturbing was the subtitle:  ‘Missing Body Involved in Fight with Lex Luthor over $12B Estate’.  Worst of all were the side by side photos underneath the head-line:  A glamour shot of Gertrude on the left, taken the year before, and Lex’s prison mug shot on the right, which showed him snarling back at the camera.  No, no, no, no, no! Lex raged.  They can’t do that!  He angrily read through the article, which revealed just how badly the men had bungled their assignment.  Gertrude’s skeletal remains had been recovered from a dumpster, which meant that the men hadn’t bothered to drag her into the basement before lighting her up as he had ordered.  The story had also laid out all the suspicious circumstances surrounding Gertrude’s death and compared Luthor’s efforts to seize her estate with his previous failed financial schemes.  Although they stopped short of accusing him of murdering the old crone, they certainly made it easy for the reader to connect the dots.

He scrolled back up to the top of the page and noted the byline of Lois Lane and Clark Kent.  Lois Lane.  Figures.  Why couldn’t she stick to Superman editorials? he grumbled.  He turned away from the computer and rubbed his chin pensively as he assessed the damage.  Knowing Lane, she probably went for the glory, printing everything they had, and they have nothing conclusive, Lex determined.  But what about her sources?  How much do they know about my plans?

He concluded that there were two possible scenarios:  Either all they had were theories, and the Planet story was an act of frustration to get in whatever licks they could, probably with help from the Vanderworths, in violation of the gag order;  or somebody had an ace in their hand that they hadn’t played yet.  But what could they have? he wondered.  We destroyed all of the evidence.   It would be circumstantial at best…   I have to find out what they know, Lex decided, and he picked up the phone and dialed the number for his overpaid lawyer.  That deadbeat lawyer better start earning his fee…



Lex had forced himself to wait for Grant and Brutus to return before unleashing his temper, and while he waited, he grew even more enraged at the abysmal failure.  Why is my genius continually thwarted by idiocy? He complained.  The perfect plan, sabotaged by an egregious failure in carrying out simple directions.  He continued to silently rail over the morgue fiasco and the difficulty in recruiting good help.  After an intolerable wait, his internal ranting was interrupted by his wayward cohorts’ return.  “You wanted to see us, boss?” Grant asked.

“Yes,” Lex said neutrally, masking his anger with some difficulty.  “I wanted to talk to you about that assignment at the morgue yesterday morning.  I believe you said that ‘everything was taken care of’, if I remember correctly.”

“Sure.  Piece of cake.”

“’Piece of cake’, was it?  Then how do you explain this?” he demanded, spinning his monitor around with the Daily Planet headline displayed.  “Does that look to you like ‘everything was taken care of’?”

“The guy surprised us,” Brutus protested.  “What were we supposed to do?”

  “It was supposed to be a stealth operation!” Luthor bellowed.  “Get in and out without anyone knowing that you were there.  Didn’t it occur to you that someone might notice a fresh kill?”

“But we got rid of the old lady’s body, just like you wanted.” Grant protested.

“Actually, no, you didn’t,” Luthor corrected.  “You were supposed to ignite the body in the apartment building’s basement where there would have been nothing left of it by the time Metropolis’ bravest rescued the residents and doused the fire.  Instead, you set her ablaze in a dumpster, where the fire was easily contained, easily extinguished, and leaving enough of the body for a positive identification.”

“They cops were closing in on us,” Grant complained.  “We had to improvise and get out of there.”

“You improvised?” Luthor seethed.  “You might just have improvised us out of this meal ticket.  Did you forget that the hag’s children have been fighting me in probate court?  If you had followed my instructions, then everyone would have assumed that the morgue ‘misplaced’ Gertrude.  It’d be completely unremarkable, especially when they’re still swamped with bodies from all those pacemaker failures during the EMP.  There would be no body, no coroner’s inquiry, no front page story, and no leg for the Vanderworths to stand on in court.

“But, what did you do?  You left a warm body for them to worry over and in the process, made the theft of the corpse obvious.  Instead of a simple matter of morgue mismanagement that nobody cares about, there is a stolen body and a murder investigation, which is all over the front page of the Planet!  That gives the Vanderworths all the justification that they need to continue delaying the case and depriving me of my inheritance!  The next time I ask you to do something discretely, don’t leave a trail of bodies behind!”

“But they can’t track it back to us!” Reilly insisted.

“Are you sure of that?” Lex asked skeptically.  “Do you even have the slightest idea what they can or can’t do?”  Lex glared silently at his men and let the severity of their error sink in.  He let the discomforting silence linger in the room for a couple of minutes, before he sternly declared, “Nobody leaves the yacht until we know what the damage is.  Now get back up top and get that launcher mounted on the stern…  Get moving!”

The men quickly filed out of the room while Lex glared after them.  Once they had departed the room, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and his brow wrinkled in concentration as he considered how much effort had gone into stripping the Vanderworths of their fortune, how certain his success had been prior to the massive snafu, which now made the odds of achieving that goal so tenuous.  Oh, if only I didn’t still require their services, he fumed.  But I’m too close to imposing Götterdämmerung on this world to endure yet another delay to recruit replacement staff.  Their punishment will have to be postponed.

Lex opened his eyes and surveyed the room pensively, and he again reflected on the Planet story.  They can’t possibly have anything on me, he concluded.  It would be circumstantial evidence at best…   However, it’s probably still a good idea to keep a low profile.  How fortunate that I had the foresight to prepare for such contingencies and stripped Gertrude’s name from the ship.  They won’t be looking for a yacht called Alexander the Great…

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