And now for something completely different (and yes, this is pretty
much in the Monthy Pythonesque vein of random drive-by silliness).
Among other things, Lex
considers skin mags, the importance of names,
the merits of earplugs, trenchcoats designed by Lagerfeld, and the
language of flowers.
The Legend of Nightshade
Lex often considered designing a secret identity for himself. Not that
it would fool his arch-nemesis for so much as a moment, but when
everyone else was romping around in skin-tight spandex using childishly
descriptive comic-book names, why shouldn't Lex? He might not have the
kind of solidly muscular build that made Superman and Batman look as
though they'd stepped straight from the pages of a glossy magazine with
a title like "Kinky Comixxx" or "Latex Fantasies", respectively, but
that was no impediment. He was fit and had no need to hide his sleekly
muscled body. Not everyone's tastes ran to the unsubtle butchness of
bodybuilders, after all.
Names were important in the super-villain business. "Brainiac" was
already taken, but it was a silly name anyway. Granted, it was
obligatory for such nomers to be silly, but Lex felt that he had to
uphold a modicum of dignity even when displaying his package for the
world to see. "Mastermind" was out too; Lex did not feel like being
compared to a cheesy 70s board game. He'd have to go with something
more generic, such as "Dark Shadow". It didn't have anything to do with
what Lex considered his own personal superpower, but it did have the
advantage of being appropriately melodramatic – foreboding in a darkly
romantic way.
And if it came to that, there was always "Devilicus". He'd have
preferred "Warrior Angel", of course, but that slot was already filled.
Maybe Lex could design some kryptonite-tipped stainless steel strap-on
horns. There was much to be said for symbolism.
As for the color scheme, venomous green would have been most fitting,
but vivid greens made Lex look washed-out and sickly. Black was better.
It was a dramatic color on Lex, and he imagined his costume as being
made of black, skin-tight and durable, yet flexible suede (leather
would be too rigid). Thigh-high boots, to go all-out on the kink
factor. Silver buckles all the way up, maybe, or lacing up the sides.
The obligatory tool belt, of course – Lex could easily miniaturize a
computer with satellite modem or some such. Perhaps a small array of
lead vials holding a selection of kryptonite, the right variety for
every occasion.
No emblem on the chest – supervillains shouldn't have to engage in
branding. No cape that would only get caught in doors, windows, or
fists. Gloves to match the boots, designed to grant full sensitivity
and dexterity while leaving no prints. A high collar, reinforced with
steel. A full mask and cowl, hiding his distinctive skull as well as
his nose and mouth, designed to allow unimpeded vision, hearing, scent,
breathing and speech while providing full protection at the same time.
The costume would be armored, of course, in case the wearer was punched
or thrown into objects or walls. Fire-proof, needless to say. It would
boast an integrated jet pack, to guard against the possibility of
injury when being dropped from great heights. Most important of all: It
would be equipped with instantly deployable earplugs, so the wearer
wouldn't be forced to listen to self-righteous tirades and
recriminations. Perhaps they could be designed to activate
automatically on the utterance of certain key terms, such as
"responsibility", "conscience", "consequences", "limits", "the man you
wanted to be", and of course "your father".
It would be worth it just to see the expression on Clark's face. It
might also be worth it for the extra seconds gained while Clark
recovered from his startlement. With some projects, every second
counted.
"Tell me, Superman," Lex drawled, interrupting Clark in mid-rant. Clark
looked put out, but shut his trap, perhaps hoping for a tear-filled
confession, or even a speech of contrition to match Clark's accusatory
oration. "How do you feel about the pseudonym 'Nightfall' for the
arch-nemesis of one of this world's greatest immigrant heroes? It has
that certain ring to it, but is it too much?"
Clark made like a fish.
"I know, I know, it doesn't allude to any special power. I haven't
gotten that shadow-thrower out of the early beta stages yet, and it's
designed mostly for agricultural purposes in hot climates, anyway.
Making a portable version would be a waste of time. But come on, Batman
has absolutely nothing in common with a bat – which reminds me that I
want you to speak to him about my new echo-locating implant. I can sell
him the exclusive rights if he contacts me within the next two weeks.
He can go ahead and do it through Wayne Industries, it's not like I
don't know. Back to the subject, I have never seen a bat wearing latex,
the Joker isn't even remotely amusing, and you're not a man. So give me
one good reason why I can't call myself Darkshadow if I want."
Clark attempted to cover up his confusion by giving Lex a good shake.
The collar ripped off of Lex's brand-new cashmere trenchcoat, sending
him plummeting four stories before Clark caught up with him again. Damn
it, that coat had been a Lagerfeld, designed exclusively for Lex. That
decided the matter – Nightshade's uniform collar would not only be
reinforced with steel, but attached to a harness fastened around his
chest. Underneath the suede, or on top? With some silver studs as
decoration, it might not look at all bad. Though if he wanted a name to
match the outfit, he'd pretty much have to go with Bondage Boy if he
went that route.
"You ever go clubbing, Superman?"
All right, maybe that was a bit out of left field. Clark fluttered
his eyelashes in a way that made Lex want to lick them, spat forth some
additional moral exhortations, and courteously flew Lex to the balcony
of his penthouse before taking off with a last threatening – if mildly
perplexed – glare. Martha Kent had taught her boy good manners.
He'd send her some star of bethlehem, bell flowers, and virgin's bower
in the morning... maybe even a cabbage rose or two. By then, he'd know
which name to sign to the card.