He Who Holds the Future
Roleplaying Log: He Who Holds the Future
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Lex Luthor has a meeting with a quieter pro-registration voice.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: February 17, 2020
IC Location: Lex Luthor's Campaign Office - Metropolis
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 12 Apr 2020 10:08
Rating & Warnings: G
Scene Soundtrack: None
NPC & GM Credits: Mister Sinister by Ursa, everyone else by Lex Luthor.
Associated Plots

So much has happened, really, since Lex formally declared his presidential run.

Finding a temporary campaign office wasn’t really all that difficult for the man of Metropolis, and—with not much time remaining to collect the national signatures required—the energy there has reached a fever pitch. Most of the time, it’s just the campaign workers in the office, and Lex only needs to check in to make certain that bodies stay inspired. To sign off on a few decisions.

Everyone is set to their best use, and navigating the daily ins-and-outs of a national signature campaign is not the best use for Mister Lex Luthor.

So, then, it might be surprising that someone has found out when Lex is scheduled to be in the office.

Moreover, that said someone has managed to procure a highly coveted half-hour appointment.

On the digital calendar, there are scarce few details. Just a name.

‘Mister Nathaniel Essex, Essex Corporation.’


"Interesting."

Lex Luthor stands up from behind his desk, waiting patiently for the arrival of Nathaniel Essex. While most of his staff are out and about doing what they've been tasked to do, the fact of the matter is that Lex Luthor has been interested in this meeting since it popped up on the digital calendar.

Hope and Mercy are still around, however, as these two very rarely leave the side of Lex Luthor. Especially when someone of such a known quantity is coming to see him. They want to make sure that they're boss is very well protected. Which could be why they are flanking the door leading to Lex's office this very moment.

Waiting. They are all waiting for the arrival of Nathaniel Essex.


The man who arrives, who introduces himself with few words, and who follows one volunteer’s pointing towards the conference room is tall. His hair is dark, and his skin is a ghostly shade of pale that speaks to very little time out in the sun. His immaculately trimmed goatee frames the stern cast of his mouth, and his three-piece bespoke suit similarly speaks to a man who carefully curates his appearance.

Hope and Mercy do not seem to have any particular effect on him; he barely even looks at them beside a quick flick of his gaze to note them.

Even when he is presented with Lex Luthor, presidential hopeful himself, the man keeps his titanium-sided briefcase in his right hand to indicate that he has no desire whatsoever to shake hands.

“Mister Luthor,” he says unhurriedly in a voice that is not notably deep or high, but it has a richness to the timbre of it that is hard to define. His accent is distinctly of London’s upper crust, placing him immediately as a foreigner on American soil. He glances the other man over once, sizing him up, before continuing.

“I am Mister Essex. I believe we have an appointment?”


"That we do."

Lex Luthor takes note of the briefcase and the lack of handshaking that was set to not actually happen and makes sure to change the movement of his hand flawlessly into indicating a chair for which Mister Essex to actually have a seat. Lex Luthor will not allow himself to be snubbed for greetings.

Lex Luthor also makes a mental note of the lack of handshaking. He'll have to make sure he knows that much detail before his meetings with others. Somebody's getting fired over this.

"I must say, Mister Essex, I'm impressed that you managed to find an opening in my schedule." Lex buttons his suit as he sits himself down in his own chair. "As I'm sure you are aware, I've been a bit busy as of late. Trying to save my country and all." Just a moment to acknowledge that he knows that Essex is not from around these parts.

"Nevertheless, what is it that I can help you with?" No time for niceties. Only time for business.

——

The dispensing of pleasantries, obviously, suits Essex just fine. He moves to settle rigidly in his own chair as he unbuttons his own jacket to reveal the fine vest beneath with a practiced left hand. The briefcase is set down beside his seat, kept close.

“It is actually the matter of your proposed defense efforts that I am here to discuss, Mister Luthor.”

He settles his arms along the hard arms of the chair, his posture effortlessly proper and upright.
“Everyone is looking to New York and its present stance on metahuman registration… One of the most progressive in the country. Despite its laws being confronted with a legal challenge, other states are beginning to follow suit. They are commonsense laws, of course, as I am certain most would agree. But there are… shortcomings in New York’s security measures. Shortcomings that could be addressed should the nation be delivered into the right hands and leadership.”


Lex Luthor keeps his hands on the table in front of him to make sure that Essex knows that he's paying attention. While he's already taken a mental picture of the briefcase that belongs to Essex, even Lex can't stop himself from looking at it once more before they get to the heart of this meeting.

Lex's expression and body language stay firmly neutral as he listens to Essex's words. No cause of leaning in either direction to show just how truly Independent Lex is prepared to remain when it comes to being the true factor for change and leadership. Almost as if he's trying to secure Essex's vote with just this meeting alone.

"I will say that I have found New York to be a bit lacking in that department as well." Whether this is true or not is somewhat irrelevant as Lex Luthor has reached the part where he tells this man what he wants to hear. "With the right leadership in place, I feel that such things could be rectified under the guidance of said leadership."

Now Lex throws the ball back into Essex's court to allow him the opportunity to be Lex's saving grace in this regard, "I take it you've come with a possible solution?"


“Of course,” Essex replies back, smiling.

It is not a kind smile.

“National registration. It solves a myriad of the issues related to uneven state legislation.”


"That's going to be a hard pill for the American Public to swallow."

Lex Luthor makes sure that he's sitting down for the next part of this. Because he's not into this whole thing about trying to make people register or whatever. Or maybe it's more that he wants to have some sort of control over it and how it works. It's complicated. It's all very complicated in his head.

"I'm attempting to take the nation towards more freedom and safety for everyone." Lex steeples his fingers in front of him. "But. I'm listening."

Lex is all about letting Essex explain his reasoning or his plan or how he wants Lex Luthor to spin this to America.


"Presidents make the American public swallow hard pills all the time, Mister Luthor. Good politicians make them look forward to it." The man in his three piece suit doesn't seem to be particularly ruffled by the CEO's hedging, and he instead simply tilts his head a slim degree to one side as he observes. "After all, just as with a doctor, this is a matter of health, isn't it? Of national health. A preventative measure to head off a deadly disease. Once the matter is dealt with effectively, freedom becomes safer."


"Interesting approach." Lex Luthor is fine with the words coming out of Essex's mouth and even understands what he means by them. It's all about how to make the American public want to need what's being offered. "The President can do quite a lot of things, this is true. Assuming that I am that President… what exactly does Mister Essex get out of this?" No more mincing words. Might as well move this along to the deal making portion of this conversation.


"I would live in your America still, wouldn't I?" The man's hard gaze doesn't falter, nor does his rigidly proper posture. "But, I do have my interests, you're right. I am vested in the security of America, and it has manifested as a software and warehousing solution that I believe would be able to handle and protect such a large gathering of highly sensitive medical data."


An eyebrow of Lex's raises as someone else has come to him with the talking about of technology. Meanwhile, LexCorp is at the top of the technological food chain and such. He allows the transgression to pass before he continues to listen to what this Essex individual has to say. "I'll bite." Lex knows he's being baited so he just leans onto the table a bit more. "Show me." He's pretty sure he could handle such sensitive data on his own (and perhaps even had plans to) but will allow Essex the chance to pitch what Lex is sure is his own product.


Unfolding and rising fluidly to his feet, Essex brings his suitcase with him. Setting the case down on the desk between them, long fingers move to unclasp the thing and then turn it in Lex's direction.

Let it not be said that Nathaniel Essex lacks a flair for the theatrical when it suits him.

Upon a simple tablet, a dark screen waits. As Essex sets his finger down upon a scanner, the screen flares to life. And one ensues after that comes very quickly, and Lex will have to pay strict attention to keep pace as hundreds of markers are indicated, test results stored, and even some measure of predictive data… all within the comfort of a easy-to-navigate interface.

"It is a small sample set," Essex explains, once he's walked the demo through. "But that is the gist of it. It will only grow more effect as the data set grows. Several state governments have already expressed interest in it."

The case closes once more, and the man folds himself upon the seat from before. "But I come not as a salesman. Only to assure you that there are ready options, should you choose to secure this country's future. Especially as I am certain, once you become president, that you will have a great many things requiring your attention."


Lex Luthor keeps his expression as neutral as possible during the demonstration and makes sure to look as interested as he needs to be in order to assume that he's going to be able to count on Nathaniel Essex for his support and perhaps even an endorsement. He'll have to worry about those things later.

"It's comforting to know that there are others out there that share the same vision for the future of this great nation." Lex stands at this moment and, remembering the beginning of this, offers a hand towards the door as opposed to offering one to be shaken. "I shall, should the chips fall the way I want them to, be in touch." See? That's a good sign, right? Presidential Hopeful is quite interested!


Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't. Essex extracts a watch from his pocket and considers it. He then rises once more to his feet, lifting the case with him and buttoning his jacket once more. "I suppose only time will tell, Mister Luthor. And, speaking of time, thank you so much for yours today. I shall not take another moment of it. Unless you have questions, of course?"

Still there is no extension of a hand. There will be none of that, thank you very much.


"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to answer any questions I have once we've implemented National Registration. Until then, I believe I have my work cut out for me." That's right, Lex. Make sure that Essex knows that you're going to fight for that Presidency so that they can work together to make the future of this nation as great as Lex Luthor dreams it can be. "Thank you for your demonstration, Mister Essex. It was both informative and eye opening. I believe the future is in our hands."


“That remains to be seen, Mister Luthor,” Essex replies in his prim, English cadence. “But I wish you the very best of luck.”

He doesn’t linger after that. He simply bows his head forward with a regal aire, turns, and goes. Leaves the conference room. Leaves the campaign office. Then, finally, after entering an abandoned warehouse, steps through a portal that flashes blue before him and leaves the city of Metropolis.

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