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Luthor leans casually in the doorway. "Can I help you with anything, Mr. Doe?" he asks.
"Oh, no, just looking around!" John chirps. "I explore Wayne Tower all the time. There are so many people to meet, working on so many neat things! After a while, Brucie's lawyers made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, as if I can't be trusted. Phhbt! Like I'd go running off to the competition– no offense– and start blabbing. Bruce and I have been through way too much for me to–"
"That was sarcasm!" Luthor snaps, shooting upright. "What the hell are you doing in my office?"
"Oh! Where's the bathroom?"
"It's certainly not all the way up here."
John folds his arms and raises his nose. "Of course you have a bathroom here, Lexy. What, am I supposed to use the employee facilities? I'm an executive man."
Luthor relaxes a bit and rolls his eyes. "I suppose after skyrocketing in social status, you would latch onto the finer things, even a bathroom."
John nods, clasping his hands behind his back. "So where is it?"
Luthor scowls. "You think you can just–" He stops himself and sighs. "Of course you do." He points to a door in the corner that blends in with the wall. "Get in and get out."
"You're a pal!" John declares as he runs in. Once the door closes, he gets on his phone.
Quietly, he starts, "So I'm up in–"
"Where are you?" Bruce hisses, in a one-eighty from his drunken facade.
"Well, your genius plan wasn't going so well..."
Bruce was supposed to pretend to get sloppy drunk over the course of the LexCorp on-site bruncheon, then John would presumably whisk him off to the banquet hall bathroom. In actuality, Batman would sneak into restricted areas of the building to look for Superman, or at least for more clues to where he was imprisoned. Luthor had access to a private island or two, after all. Bruce was sure, though, that he'd keep Superman close by.
Unfortunately, Bruce didn't get a chance to find anything. He overstepped in his inebriated roleplay, knocking over the buffet table instead of knocking into it, and security took him aside, trying to figure out if they were actually going to kick the billionaire out.
And while the attention was on Bruce, John saw his shot. Why have the afternoon go to waste?
"I made it up to the office," John says. "And now Luthor is up here."
"What?"
"It's fine! I told him I just prefer the shiniest of facilities. He didn't see me snooping."
"Then get back down here. I'll have to go with Plan B."
"But I have a chance right now. We don't know what condition Supes is in, if it'll get worse."
"John–"
"I'm taking too long. See you soon!"
John slips his phone back into his rear pocket, then flushes the toilet and washes his hands for effect, not sure how soundproofed the room is. He stares into the mirror, giving himself a silent pep talk.
He's in a good position for this after all. Luthor threatened to kill Superman if he caught wind of the Justice League snooping into any of his dealings. It's a clever change of pace on his part, really. Taking down the whole League is a much bigger challenge than just using one member as a hostage.
John strolls back into the office. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Luthor, sir."
"Much obliged," Luthor replies wryly as he puts away his phone. He's still at the office door. "Security has informed me that your boyfriend called for your car so he can sober up at home."
John giggles. "He really lets go around mimosas, doesn't he?" He spins, taking in the room. "Wow, you're living it up!"
"Just as Wayne does in his office, I'm sure." Luthor stands to one side of the doorway and gestures out.
John ignores it. "I guess, but his doesn't have this much style!" In his periphery, he sees Luthor's arm lower, and he walks past the desk to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Metropolis. "Or this view! Gotham can be so dreary and industrial, you know? Here it seems so sunny and clear all the time."
"Well, certainly Wayne can't control the outside atmosphere," Luthor says coolly, as if what he actually believes is that Bruce has failed to do so. "But what do you mean about our tastes?"
"Oh, this office has so much more personality!" John turns and points to the left wall. "A built-in aquarium with all these fancy angelfish. I mean, you've got a platinum arowana in there! I told Bruce he should get something cool like a snake, and he said he'd think about it, but I don't think he considered it at all."
"I wouldn't expect you to have an eye for 'fancy' fish," Luthor says, smiling slightly.
"Like you said," John replies, "I've developed a taste for finer things." He points to the shelves on the right. "That Macallan whiskey, that bottle style is from the twenties, isn't it? That drinkware looks like a good vintage, too. The classiest thing Bruce has is an old chessboard, and honestly?" He switches to a stage whisper, cupping his mouth with one hand. "I don't think he knows how to play."
Luthor seems delighted. "I have found that good breeding does not hold any guarantees. I hope you do the bar arrangements for Bruce's parties."
"I'm pushing for interior decorating, too. This office is so sleek! All the angles really catch the eye, draw it to the power seat!" John hops into the leather high-backed chair at the desk. "Man, Bruce has one of those boring minimalist desks. This has character!"
Luthor is looking very proud of himself as he watches John trace the edges of the cherry wood. "I have a terrific broker who discovered this piece at an auction in London. It was uncovered in…"
John nods as Luthor talks and hopes he sees nothing amiss with how closely his guest examines the desk. At the very least, John can note odd seams or defects that indicate a hidden panel for Batman to investigate later.
Or a not so hidden one, which John sees when he slides off the chair and peeks underneath. Just off to the right is a square panel, which pops open on a hinge when he pushes it and uncovers a flat red button.
"... have realized, if she actually knew anything about– What are you doing?"
The tension in Luthor's voice only triggers the impulse to shoot through John's arm. He pushes the button with a cheery "hey, what's this do?"
"No!" Luthor shouts.
John gets back to his feet as the booze shelves and part of the floor spin, revealing an unconscious Superman splayed and chained on the opposite side of the wall. A rectangular pedestal made with matching wood paneling is set a foot back from him; it holds a glowing, glass-encased chunk of kryptonite.
"Huh." John looks at Luthor. "I don't want to tell you what to do, but maybe you should hide your buttons better."
Luthor's panicked expression has already smoothed over. He folds his hands behind his back. "I know how this looks–"
"Me too!"
"–but this alien and his friends frequently and unjustifiably stick their noses in my affairs." Luthor strolls toward the door. "Frankly, the global groupthink that assumes that their intentions are always laudable is dangerous."
John eases toward Superman to get a closer look. "Well, sure, I guess you can't trust anyone one-hundred percent."
He thinks Clark's eyes flutter. So not unconscious then. Oh, jeez, does Luthor sit imperiously at his desk and flip Superman around whenever he wants to monologue about his insidious plans? What a dork.
"I think you can understand, Mr. Doe." Luthor is back at the room's entrance again, and he looks at John carefully. "With what's known about how Bruce's family protected their interests, I've no doubt that a share of the skeletons in their closet are his."
John wrinkles his nose. "Ehhhh, none of his are the remains of a captive Kryptonian hero, though."
"Hero. Yes." Luthor presses a panel on the wall. The door closes, and that loud noise sure sounds like a lock engaging.
Wuh-oh.
Luthor presses another panel on the opposite side of the door, and a compartment beside it slides open, revealing a mounted pistol. He takes it down.
John giggles nervously. "Hoo boy, these are fast negotiations!"
"Your clear sympathies with this interloper are too much of a risk. I can't have him escape." Luthor points the pistol at John. Lights on the tip glow red. "I have to say your presence at these functions has made them more interesting. I'll let everyone know what a shame it is that I didn't realize the intruder in my office was merely a curious guest."
John manages to duck in time for the red hot beam to streak just above his head. As the window behind him shatters top to bottom, he dives behind the desk.
Man, he is not going to like Bruce's "I told you so" later, but the important thing is that he makes it to later. If he recalls correctly, LexCorp laser weaponry is keyed to fingerprints, so the gun won't be much of a threat in John's hands except as a projectile. He can hear Luthor approaching and tries one of the low drawers. He finds a fancy letter opener, with a stainless steel blade and an ivory handle, but as much as he appreciates knives, they're more likely to lose in a gunfight.
Yup, that settles it. He's going to have to go for the most dangerous weapon in the room.
John shoves the chair, sending it rolling to Luthor's left, then dashes the other way as Luthor shoots at it reflexively. He takes a giant leap toward Superman, and when he lands, he drives the point of the letter opener into the top of the kryptonite case. He cackles as the glass cracks, and manages to strike the same spot again before Luthor turns and fires again.
John drops to the floor and the beam scorches the wall under Superman's arm. He draws up his legs and slams his feet into the wooden pedestal, and a crack sounds from the base.
"Stop that!" Luthor shouts with another blast.
This beam singes John's leg as he rolls away, but not bad enough that he can't get to his feet. He flings the letter opener at Luthor, who dodges, but John just needs another distraction for when he lunges and tackles the pedestal with all his weight. It snaps free, and when it and John hit the floor, the glass top breaks into pieces.
The kryptonite tumbles to the floor. John reaches for it, but Luthor shoots again, and John pulls back his hand with a hiss. It's an indirect hit, not destroying his hand but searing his skin.
Because the direct hit was to the kryptonite, which skids away, ricochets off the wall, and just makes it to the broken window. It teeters for a second between two jags of glass before falling out of view.
John bursts out laughing, clenching the wrist of his burned hand. "Thanks for the save, Lexy!"
"Goddamn clown!" Luthor roars, leveling the gun at John's head.
John can only sigh, wishing Bruce could know that he went out with a smile.
Then two thin, red beams appear, trained on the gun, which glows and loses shape. Luthor drops it with a yell. John looks up as the light fades from Superman's eyes and his arms start to strain against the chains.
"No no no no no!" Luthor shouts, running to the opposite wall. He pounds his fist next to the fishtank, and the paneling beneath it flips around, revealing…
"Why do you need so many guns?!" John bursts as he stumbles to his feet.
Instead of an answer, he hears the clang of chains breaking and hitting the ground. Superman falls after them onto his hands and knees. Recovery from the kryptonite isn't instantaneous, it seems.
John straddles Superman's back and bends down, trying to pull him up by the torso. "We gotta go!"
Clark takes a deep breath and says through gritted teeth, "Hold on."
Luthor whirls around then, gripping a much bigger gun with two hands. The coils around the muzzle are already glowing– fluorescent orange this time– so John does the easiest thing and drops onto Superman's back.
He hears the blast but feels the wind on his face as Superman soars out the broken window into the bright Metropolis sky. Looking down over the hero's shoulder, the world looks like an advanced ant colony, given that it's over a hundred stories down. This height is still much safer than where they came from.
"That was close!" John exclaims. "Are you okay?" It's lucky Clark is built like a humanoid truck, or else John's arms clamped around his throat would suffocate him.
"The sun helps," Superman says back. "I'm going to touch down somewhere safe in a minute."
That sounds good to John, because now that they are out of danger, it hits him that they are flying! In the air! Not in an aircraft, but like a bird! Well, not a bird, but like… like a lorikeet hitching a ride with a majestic eagle!
John grins gleefully and lets go of Superman's throat to sit up on his back, keeping his legs braced around the other man's waist. He holds his arms out and looks straight ahead, and it's almost like he's soaring all on his own.
"Wahoo!"
Clark glances back with a smile and steadily tilts left, then right. John tilts his arms too, while making engine sound effects.
But Clark had meant that minute. As they approach the enormous globe atop The Daily Planet, they're descending. John closes his eyes and focuses on the weightlessness, hoping the feeling leaves a clear imprint in his mind, until Superman tells him to hold on again. With a sigh, John slings his arms back into place, and they tilt upright for landing.
As soon as John hops off Clark's back onto the Planet's roof, his phone buzzes. When he fishes his right hand into his pocket, he flinches as his burned skin rubs against the fabric, reminding him that he is, in fact, injured.
He uses his left hand instead and answers, "Hey, buddy!"
"So," Bruce says steadily, "it looked like something just flew off into the sky from LexCorp."
"Yup, me and the big guy!"
Obviously someone flying would have to be Superman, but Bruce still sounds surprised and relieved. "You found him?"
"He's recharging as we speak!"
"Are you okay?"
John looks at his hand. "Am I okay?" he echoes. "Luthor almost killed me! It was amazing!" He pivots his left leg a little; there's a tear in his pants, but it looks like that shot just grazed him.
Bruce is silent, probably running his hand over his face, but then he lets out a dry chuckle. "I bet it was something, alright. Where are you?"
"On the roof of the Planet."
"Alright. I need to make a scene about how my missing boyfriend just told me that he was attacked, but I should be there in about thirty minutes."
"Gotcha! See you soon!" John hangs up and turns to Superman, who is laying back on his hands in the sun. "Batsy will be here in a bit."
Superman nods. "I'll be ready for his thorough debriefing by then."
"Heh, he's only thorough because he cares!"
"I know." Superman pulls up a big smile. "Thank you, John."
John shrugs. "Shucks, it was nothing."
"Looks like it cost a burnt hand."
"Eh, I've had worse, not that Bruce will see it that way."
"It's hard to reconcile our need to protect with how people we care about want to do that same thing."
"Like a certain prize-winning journalist, maybe?" John says, waggling his eyebrows.
"Heh, yes, like her. And like her, you deserve to be commended."
John taps his chin. A grin spreads across his face. "I do, don't I?"
A week later, the burn on John's leg is well on its way to healing, and those on his hand aren't far behind. He doesn't even notice the twinges as he holds an empty plate and surveys the two rows of open boxes taking up the long dining room table.
Next to him, Alfred says, "I commend your choice of celebration, John."
"Really?" John replies, glancing up. "I thought you preferred to do the cooking."
"Well, it would be quite a feat for me to accommodate so many, ah, expedient metabolisms," Alfred replies as Flash approaches the table for the fourth time.
The speedster sighs happily as he scans the options. "We should do pizza more often. It's the greatest party we've ever had."
John scowls as Flash zips from box to box. "There've been other parties?!"
Flash stops between the two other men, having collected a stack of slices. He chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Nah, I guess group meetings don't much count. But still, this is great!" He slaps John's shoulder and dashes back outside.
"I was worried for a second," John says. "Wouldn't want Bruce to leave me out of a good time."
"You know he'd never," Alfred says. "He's much more comfortable at social events when you're around." He hesitates and his smile slips, but it comes back as he adds, "It's another welcome change you've brought into this house, encouraging Master Bruce to interact more with others."
Suddenly antsy, John holds his plate in front of his chest and spins it back and forth. "Oh, gosh, I don't know if it's me, really."
"It certainly isn't me. I did my best when he was a boy, but he was stubborn even then. He didn't want anything to do with anyone, and that attitude hardly improved as he got older."
"Ohhh, Al!" John stretches out his arms, dropping the plate onto a half-eaten pepperoni pie.
Alfred chuckles and steps forward. His embrace isn't as tight as John's, but it's firm.
"You did your best and Bruce turned into a great guy! The best guy!" John says before pulling back. "Who has helped the entire city, not to mention yours truly!"
"And you've turned around and helped him and the League," Alfred says. "I suppose that's what it comes down to, everyone supporting each other."
"And that's why we all deserve pizza!"
Alfred and John make their selections (white with vegetables and bacon cheeseburger, respectively) and return to the garden patio. At the picnic table, Flash has almost finished his serving already, as Green Lantern pauses in the middle of a ham and pineapple slice to chide him to at least taste the food. Wonder Woman watches with amusement as she chows down on a margherita slice. Sitting across from her, Batman is happy with his classic cheese, and at the other end of the bench, Superman is downing a pepperoni.
John retakes his seat in the middle of the bench, and Alfred sits at the head of the table between Wonder Woman and Bruce, per Bruce's insistence. John takes a moment to enjoy the sight of all the costumed heroes eating pizza, Batman in particular, albeit with his gloves off.
Bruce sees him staring and responds with a wry smile. "Are you enjoying the further erosion of any sense of propriety?"
"Uh huh!" John chirps.
Superman laughs. "I'm glad. Plus morale beats propriety any day."
"Does it?" Bruce says skeptically.
"We make a good team, don't we?"
John raises a finger. "Uh, you make a literal super team, what with all the powers."
Superman settles a hand on John's shoulder. "No, we are a super team because we use all of our abilities to work together as effectively as we can. Without your cleverness, I'd still be trapped in Luthor's office."
John blinks up at him with shiny eyes. "We? I… aw, jeez. You really mean it?"
"Of course," Wonder Woman joins in. "I think you'd be perfect for our first honorary member."
The pizza alone had been perfectly fine for John! He rubs a knuckle under one of his watering eyes while he tries to think of better words. "... Gosh." He looks to Bruce for confirmation that this is real.
Bruce wears a real smile now. "I can't think of anyone I trust more."
"Well then," Alfred says, "I believe this calls for an addition to Master John's albums."
"Great idea!" Clark agrees, and he moves his arm to grip John around the shoulders.
John sits up straight, feeling light and bright, even more so when Bruce's arm winds around his waist and Bruce's glove rests atop his injured hand. Wonder Woman positions herself behind John and Superman, fitting her knee between them on the bench so she can lean in closer. She drapes her arm around Lantern's shoulder, encouraging him to lean in too on Superman's other side. Flash comes around to Bruce's right, pairing his grin with a peace sign.
Alfred stands on the opposite side of the table and holds up his phone. "Everyone ready? Is it still in fashion to say 'cheese'?"
This is going to be one of the best pictures ever, so John's not sure why it still feels like he might cry. He swallows back the lump in his throat and declares, "We say 'freeze, evil-doers!'"
The League cheers and echoes his words, and Bruce squeezes his hand, and John is flying all over again.