Hell's Sniper | J. Todd

V - Poker Face

Can't read my, Can't read my,
No, he can't read my poker face
- Lady Gaga

"How do you reply to emails from really, really rich people?"

"Very politely." Chief replies.

"Depends on the context. What is it about, anyway?"

Lex Luthor has invited me for an interview. He says he has an upcoming project that my 'skill set' (I genuinely laughed when he put "killing the Joker" in brackets, like I have amnesia) would be greatly appreciated. 

It's safe to say I'm hesitant. He wants me to be there by 2:30pm, and it's 1:03pm now. Why would he, one of the richest men in the world, want to talk to me, one of the best snipers? 

Like, he knows I'm a cop, right? Surely?

I agreed when he said I could take two of my dogs. Curiosity kills the sniper, as I was always told. It was too strange to pass up and leave to my imagination what could've happened if I went.

Something crashes, loud, sharp, glass. My head whips around to see Natayla and Ruby fighting over who's going with me, standing in glass shards, their pads milliseconds away from being ruined and bloody. I shout words, incoherent, probably not even words, just sounds, but they don't work. Simo dives in and joins brawl, shortly followed by Chief, Petrova and Corvus. 

Corvus's fangs dive straight for Ruby's throat, but I'm too busy trying to pull Chief off Simo, who has is jaws latched around Natayla's leg. To my absolute horror, Corvus stands over Ruby, his jaws clamped firmly around Ruby's neck. 

"Au pied!" 

The dogs stop, then scramble to my side. I turn and inspect them all, expecting the absolute worst; Shredded paw pads, mauled flesh, torn ears; but there's nothing. Every single one of them are completely fine. They're not even panting with adrenaline.

"What the...?"

"If you wish to get to Mr. Lex's meeting in time, you'll have to leave now." Chief points out. I sigh, knowing he's right. 

"Okay, fine. We'll talk about... this..." I gesture to them and the glass, "...later. But none of you are allowed to come with me."

The whining starts loudly, all six of them working together in the most infuriating harmony to show their disagreement. I ignore them completely as I put on my shoes, grab my gun and badge (you never know). I leave my radio as it won't do me too much use.

But when I get into the car, the dogs are already piled in, their gleaming black eyes daring me to challenge them.

"You're going to be late, remember?"

***

Lex wasn't thrilled about having six Dobermans trailing after me, but apparently he wasn't too strict on the rule and let it slide. (He's scared shitless. I watched the saturation drain from his and every employee that works for him's faces. I might have smiled only a little bit.) He makes a valet park my car, even though it's not even remotely fancy, and leads me through halls adorned by paintings that probably cost more than my apartment.

He opens the door to office, and I have to stifle a laugh as his bald head gleams under the light. Luthor sits in his chair, gesturing for me to sit opposite him. The chair is well cushioned and shinier than a bullet.

"I need your help with something." he begins, dragging the words through the air like it pains him to say it.

"With what?" all seven of our interests' are peaked.

"I can't tell you yet, but it's of most vital importance. Before I can tell you, I must ask, what is your opinion on the superheroes that claim to save our world?"

The question catches me completely off guard. I glance at the Dobermans, eyes wide. This isn't at all what I was expecting.

"Lie, say you hate them. Despise and loathe them." Petrova instructs. She's smart and good at reading people, so I trust her judgement.

"I think they should be arrested and put into asylums. How about you?" 

The billionaire's eyes gleam with triumph. A grin that only rich people have from their successes and accomplishments stretches across his face. "I think the exact same. Now, I must show what I have planned to achieve our goals."

He reminds me of my recruiter. Manipulative. Cunning. Deceptive. I instantly take everything he says with a grain of salt. He doesn't think of me as an equal, or intelligent. Just as a pawn.

But I let him lead me and the dogs to the elevator, where he takes us to a floor that requires voice and facial recognition. The alarm bells ring louder and louder when the elevator doors open and an enormous laboratory reveals itself, nestled in between two floors of regular offices disguised as a large storage facility.

"I have designed a weapon that can destroy each and every one of the members in the Justice League, Young Justice team and the Teen Titans. I need you to conduct multiple safety checks and run various scenarios in order to ensure it functions. I would myself, but I am a very busy man." As he speaks, his arms make wide gestures and he wears a deceiving smile.

"I am a very busy woman. I go back to work the day after tomorrow, working exhausting, high-stakes eight hour shifts with only sixteen hours of rest and only one day off in the average week, and if you haven't heard the news already, I just killed the fucking Joker, so a target is forever on my back. Also, side note, my brother woke up from a coma two days ago, which is much more in my favour."

Luthor winces. "You have a point there, I suppose. Would you be able to work with me, still?"

'With me'? He means 'for me', but he doesn't want me know that.

"I will inspect the weapon and make my decision." 

He's so desperate that he says yes. 

It's a gun that looks similar to a sniper rifle, with extra buttons. He allows me to open up the gun to see the tech inside. In truth, I do not hate superheroes. I think they do great things. So I need to stop this gun from working, or at least halt its killing spree. Distract him, I think to the dogs, and they do. They growl at him loudly, snapping their jaws and catching him off guard. He yells at me to do something but I dismiss him with a wave. Other people in the lab try and assist but there's not much you can do against six Dobermans, telepathic or not.

I quietly rip out a piece of the circuit. It looks important, or maybe I'm just guessing, but it's connected to a lot of things and has a protective casing around it that causes me to result in yanking it a little too hard.

I glance back to see if anyone noticed, but they're too busy trying to calm my dogs down. I stuff the tech in my pocket next to my gun, that way, if they try and take it out of my pocket, I can pull my gun out on them and justify my actions by saying I believed they were going for my gun.

I'm not all brawn, sometimes. "Au pied." my dogs rush to my side, sitting and watching me expectantly, no longer agitated.

"You're insane," I say, closing up the gun to hide what I did. "I'm not taking part in this shit. But I promise that this will go with me to the grave. I don't want any part in this. Ever."

Luthor sighs in frustration. "I understand. My genius is not loved and appreciated by all."

I don't know what he expected me to say, but it definitely wasn't: "Damn right you are, baldie."