multiversallogs | I need a hero!

Who: Lionel Luthor and ~~Adrian Veidt~~ Ozymandias
What: one very hirsute damsel in distress
Where: outskirts of the city center.
When: late evening
Notes: before news of Lex's birthday swag has been shared with all parties in the House of Ego
Warning: super awesome?

Discretion is vital to any Luthor, and Lionel has taken great care to ensure that even in a heavily networked city encased in fog, his private business remains his own. The dim-witted carriage driver had been paid (and threatened) enough to secure an oath of silence regarding a trip to the borders of Bonetown. Hours of research and some particularly fruitful testimonials guaranteed what he required and, following a brief exchange with a peculiar merchant in the late hours of the evening, Lionel finds himself satisfied with both trip and product.

Upon his return to where he left the cabby, he finds a new party in attendance: a husky being bordering on the edge of seven and a half to eight feet tall. He halts at a distance, but the cabby and the massive figure cut off any hope that he has of a quick exit.

"If you're looking for extra fare, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed," Lionel remains still, composed. The facade doesn't appeal much to the larger of the two, who secures a quick hold on Lionel despite thrashing resistance. Several pale capsules spill from their container and scatter across the ground. They are of much greater concern to him than any petty thug, and while he's not about to give into any demands, the cool touch of a blade at his throat is enough of an incentive for him to slowly begin to search for any cash that he might have to spare...

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In a way, Lionel is about to unknowingly reap the benefits of the fact that as warped as it might be, Adrian Veidt does have a sense of honor. One that despite his immediate personal desire to just walk away and let the situation play out as it will, refuses to let him do so. Whatever bad blood is between the two men, at this moment he is Ozymandias, and a citizen of Baedal needs his help.

The brute needs to be dealt with first, of course, and that cold blade swings suddenly away from its victim's throat as Adrian's foot connects with the back of its knee with a satisfying thunk. Attention now transferred to its own attacker, the being turns and rushes him, only to have Adrian duck away at the last minute, spinning and grabbing at his opponent's weapon arm, using his momentum to twist it until there's an audible snap.

Edited 2011-11-06 00:51 (UTC)

The cabby's jaw slackens in disbelief as his hefty companion is so easily wrangled into submission. The larger figure wallows in pain before lumbering off to the side, determined to put as much distance between itself and the caped crusader.

For Lionel, everything is a blur prior to the snap that jars him back to attention. A quick pat of his fingertips to his neck confirm that the knife has done no damage. His next impulse tells him to scoop up the nearest capsules that are not yet eroded by moisture, then the discarded knife for his own benefit. He inches back slowly, weapon tucked discreetly at his back, while keeping a wide set of eyes on the masked man.

"This is none of your business. Who do you think you are, huh?" the cabby demands while shakily pointing his own blade towards Adrian. Unlike his partner, he's more mindful of space and is not eager to rush in for blood. Yet.

As long as a retreat is in progress, Adrian will let the brute go, although he remains alert for another attack from that quarter. He needs to deal with the cabby, who is clearly the brains of the operation anyway, and apparently lacks his companion's sense of self-preservation.

Adrian doesn't generally go in for the whole small talk schtick during a fight, so his only response is to wait silently, watching the man with an intense gaze, until the fellow's nerves goad him into making a move. In that instant, Adrian moves as well, and a flurry of blows from feet and fists leaves the man lying bloody and moaning in the street.

A quick gaze passes over the victim in this scenario, establishes that he's uninjured and not an immediate threat, and then fixes itself on the spot where the larger of the two attackers has hesitated. "I'm called Ozymandias," he says, directing his words at the figure lying on the ground. "And it is my business."

Cutting his losses through a beating, the smaller grunt manages to drag himself to his feet and run quite lopsidedly back towards his vehicle. Loyalties cast aside, the larger figure moans lowly before making his own retreat into the night.

Now it is just himself and the aptly named victor of the fight.

Lionel's eyes never leave Ozymandias, ignoring one of his attackers entirely as they flee directly past him. They are, after all, unremarkable and fleeting mites in the spectrum. This man-- he was substantially more. He slowly steps away from the wall, moving only one or two steps closer to the other man, remaining mindful of his distance as not to appear as a threat. The knife is held loosely in one hand weighted down to his leg. He isn't about to let it go just yet. Not until he's sure of this particular man's role here.

"That was...remarkable," his voice cracks in a rare loss of composure. As if suddenly aware, he clears his throat and dusts some residue from his jacket.

"...Thank you."

It's nice, in a strange way, to see a more vulnerable side of Lionel Luthor. It certainly makes what Adrian is doing right now a great deal easier -- he can't stand the man personally, but at least knowing he's truly an innocent victim in this situation, and is grateful for the intervention, makes the charade less galling.

And a small (perhaps not so small) part of Adrian enjoys being the one with the power, the one Lionel has to look to for help.

"This isn't the kind of neighborhood you should be in alone. Especially at night." His voice is soft, a little removed, nothing like the smug iciness displayed at Lex's party.

While humbleness hardly suits his demeanor, he is not above placing gratitude where it is due. A brief chuckle is given, rubbing his neck to alleviate some skin irritation and the feeling of weakness. It is a sorry thing to bring to the surface and he will make no great habit of it. He can't afford to.

"It would seem that I overestimated my company," he reflects quietly.

Then a more familiar sight to those that know him, a setting of his lips. Calculating.

"I assume that some kind of reward is in order."

It may never surface again, so Adrian will enjoy the sight of that humility for as long as he can.

"Loyalty isn't always that easily purchased," he remarks. It's dangerous to engage in too much conversation -- the Ozymandias costume isn't exactly designed for hiding every trace of identity, and although at one time he didn't mind the possibility of his identity being revealed, he's not yet at that point in the game here in Baedal.

The suggestion of reward puts him immediately off any desire for conversation, however, and although Adrian keeps his expression and tone carefully neutral, there's a subtle twitch in his jaw as he grits his teeth against the insult. "I think you've made enough mistaken assumptions for the night. You'll be safe to walk from here to the train, you have my word.

The refusal of gratitude is intriguing to him-- he can't imagine the reason being sheer modesty. Every human has motivations, some are just deeper than others.

"It was not my intention to offend you," he has gained more composure now. For benefit of his own memory, he gives the man one more look over to take in every detail of the armor.

"Ozymandias, was it?" there is a pique of curiosity in his tone to the reference, but he doesn't expect much from the crime fighter other than confirmation.

A masked man of few words and no desire for material reward would be something worth investigating later.

Silent confirmation is exactly what he gets -- at the mention of his name, Adrian bows his head. It's an easy name to remember, and the design of his costume provides an instant visual reinforcement. He has no doubt it will be remembered. (What he doesn't expect is for Lionel to take enough of an interest to actively investigate anything, and he may come to regret that oversight eventually.)

"I recommend you return directly home, unless you prefer to stop at a militia office to report the attack first." He very much doubts that will be the case. There's no legitimate reason for Lionel Luthor to be in this neighborhood alone at night, and therefore every reason for him to want to keep this visit to himself.

I need a hero!

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