Title: Five Ways Selina Kyle never met Lex Luthor Author: girl-wonder firstname.lastname@example.org Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story. DC owns Selina, Bruce and Lex. It's all meant in fun, people, sorry to play with your toys. Summary: "Lex Luthor," Selina says. "It's a pleasure."
Author's note: "Five Ways" is one of the most amazing phenomena to ever hit fanfic. And yes, I have fallen prey to its charms. In continuity notes, I'm tending to use Smallville Lex mixed with a bit of cannon.
- sleep with the boss
She started sleeping with Lex about the same time he started paying her to.
Mercy had been talking in her ear, because she had forgotten to take her earpeice out. He had been rough, and she had used he nails to create long ribbons of red across his shoulders. He had tasted like liqueur, and left rings of bruises on her arms.
The bonus went unmarked, but she knew what it meant. So, even though the first time had been real, real passion and respect, real love, real hatred, she continued sleeping with him like a whore.
Giving her a bonus, meant that he could cheapen it, could control her. She allowed him to because four digits was a lot. Four digits was her sister's rent and a few months away from streetwalking.
He didn't say anything, but she knew what was expected. The second time, and every time after that, she took out the earpiece, reading whatever Mercy had been saying in the morning report.
Whatever they told each other, she became certain that Hope knew and Mercy didn't. Hope was the one who manned the cameras at night and Mercy was the one who updated. When Mercy was sure she heard a scream in the apartment, it was Hope who told her to check the rooftop, because it looked like someone had knocked a sensor loose. Selina made sure that Hope got a good bonus, too.
Even though they were technically her team, she knew that they were in love with Lex. She was, too, but in a different way. Their love involved devotion and a desire to keep him safe at all costs. Theirs was bought. Hers involved hatred and jealousy and lust and respect, emotions that warped into lovelovelovelove. It felt like a scream, like a punch, like a broken bone. It hurt.
She started sleeping with Lex because she loved him.
One day, during the lunch hour none of them used, Hope took her for a walk. Hope removed her earpiece, but Selina left hers in. The park was well kept, brink pathways and metal fencing them off from trees. It the wealthy's interpretation of what nature was.
"You don't have to," Hope said. "We can work for other people."
As far as lies went, it was a good one.
"Do you want to work for someone else?" Selina asked, rolling her napkin into a ball and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Metal painted green to add to the atmosphere of outdoors.
Hope blinked, "No."
Selina's smile was bitter. "We aren't going to work for anyone else."
"There's Wayne." Wayne, their first employer. Wayne, dark and strong where Lex was passionate and angry. She had brought Hope and Mercy together to keep Wayne safe, because she could tell that they had the potential to be great.
"No." Because Wayne would take them back, but he would not leave bruises on her arms, he would not sleep with other women when he knew that she was watching the cameras.
There were reasons she worked for Lex.
After that, Hope never mentioned it. With her bonus she bought a new gun, even though Lex always compensated them for weaponry.
Selina continued sleeping with Lex because he paid her to.
2. pretty little whore
Gotham smelled worse after a rain, when the stench of wet garbage and human waste would mix with the acrid smell of wet pavement. Smoking was dangerous in her line of work, too many tricks had been converted by the surgeon general's warning and avoided smokers on principle. Selina found the idea of avoiding a hooker because of a moral opposition to smoking hysterical, even though her pimp didn't. However, she usually had a cigarette after the rain because anything smelled better than a newly showered Gotham.
Down the block, she saw Lucy pacing back and forth in lengthening lines. Territory almost infringed on and, "Hey, stay the fuck on your own turf!" She didn't really care at this point, in between the rain and the hour she knew real tricks would be hard to come by. Still, if she gave up a little of her block one night the next she'd be giving up even more. More and more, until there was nothing left.
She took a long drag on her cigarette, filling her lungs with death. She imagined herself dying from the inside out. Rotting, like a month old pear, falling through her skin.
The limousine was black and shined. The window rolled down and she approached, allowing her hips to swing fully. The half finished cigarette she dropped in the gutter before leaning into the window. "You can have me for the whole night for five hundred dollars," she said. Selina crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing up.
The boy in the limo seemed amused and he cocked his head to the side, never losing his smile. "Well, that's a fair deal. Get in."
Typecasting tricks was dangerous, Lou said. Make sure you know who you're doing or you're fucked, her sister said. Bossy, she determined, sliding into the leather seat. The exact way he ordered the driver off made her rethink, not bossy, just used to being in charge.
She smiled at him, eyes looking down, because boys who think that they're big men like their whores submissive. With her fingers, she traced the inside seam on his pants.
"Where do you want to do this?" she asked. It was a safer question than 'what do you want' and less explosive than 'is he planning on watching or playing.'
"Oh, I think that right here is fine. Bruce?" The smile was over her head and all teeth and dangerous eyes.
Across from them, the dark man shifted. If she slanted her eyes at an angle she caught a glimpse of him in the passing streetlights. High cheekbones, and a hard chin. Most of his lips had turned white, pressing together in a firm straight line. His eyes were in shadow.
Once, she had fucked a john while his wife watched, tied to a chair across the room. Usually she didn't like doing women, they were a lot more fucked up than men who just wanted sex. Women wanted someone to hold them. She moved her fingers up and brushed the tips of them across his crotch.
He had pushed up into her and his wife had been across the room. His wife had come with a scream, and afterwards Selina charged double. She didn't like mind games, but they paid more.
"Anything you want me to call you?" she asked, moving her hand up farther, almost to his zipper.
He chuckled and moved his hand into her hair, fingers tightening in the dark curls. "Call me Wayne."
Internally she sighed, if he wanted to hear someone else's name she wasn't going to protest. His dime, after all.
"Ok, Wayne." She dipped her head and the other man made a strangled sound.
3. my best friend's wife
The media liked their relationship. When he stole a company from under Bruce's nose and the company became the next big thing, the media started loving their rivalry. LexCorp vs. Wayne Industries, it was like watching a boxing match on pay-per-view.
The only thing that the media loved more than their animosity was their friendship. Some reporter doing research found out that they had gone to school together, and the ball was rolling.
Lex smiled at the reporter, "Bruce and I know how to separate the business from the personal. We try not to let business touch our relationship."
In four months, Lex had only seen Bruce at three charity brunches.
"Bruce and I are both aware of the strain that our positions can have. We help each other deal with it," the reporter scribbled down notes.
Selina Kyle was two inches shorter than Bruce when she wore four inch heels. Her smile was sly and cynical and Lex wondered if his whispered comments had ever made Bruce look that amused.
During red carpet sessions and publicity events, she held herself above the questions, answering in double speak that would have made his father proud. Bruce had started taking her everywhere.
She smiled, open and friendly when a reporter asked her about her future with Bruce, "Oh, we've both found a place in our lives where we match. That's really what we're focusing on now."
At an awards dinner, they held hands under the table. Lex once gave Bruce a handjob during the keynote speaker.
After events, at parties and openings and all the little events where rich people run into each other, Selina was always friendly. One hand trapped under Bruce's arm, she'd smile and compliment his date on her dress. She'd tell Lex that he has an amazing stylist, and would he mind giving Bruce the number? She would say the last with a little laugh and Bruce would smile, a longstanding joke. The longest joke Lex had with Bruce was about Bruce's staying power.
"Of course, we're aware of the dangers," he smiled at the reporter again, spin like sugar and she lapped it up. "We take a lot of care with what we tell each other."
Bruce was absent from the charity dinner. At the Wayne table, Selina sat alone and did not look lonely or abandoned. Instead she looked like that was where she belonged. None of Lex's dates had ever looked that sure of themselves. That was why he kept taking them.
He wanted her then, and understood immediately how Bruce could want that confidence.
"Stay away from him," she told him at the after party.
"Bruce?" His smile was malicious, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Her smile was friendly for a passing photographer. She allowed Lex to wrap an arm around her shoulder.
"He's mine, " her smile didn't fade.
Lex's smile widened. He understood immediately how Bruce would be narcissistic enough to fuck her.
In his bed, sheets tangled, Selina still asleep with her back towards him, he opened her cell phone and called Bruce's number. He remembered leaving dirty messages on Bruce's answering machine.
He wet his lips, and looked back down. She turned and opened her eyes, staring straight into his.
When Bruce's voicemail kicked in, he almost said, "Fuck me, Bruce."
Instead, he said, "I fucked her."
He wasn't sure it would make any difference to Bruce. Her smile was predatory.
four: revisionist history
Things were supposed to be easy. She was supposed to just plant the damn bugs. But, of course, things went wrong.
Two people in the building, and that shouldn't have been a problem at all. A blind man and a housewife. Neither were going to catch her.
"Oh, sorry, sir. I didn't know you were here."
"It's the janitor," the woman told Luthor.
Selina smiled apologetically, hired help down to her Bronx-living bones. "I won't be that long, ma'm."
"Oh, of course," the woman said, already blind to Selina.
One bug in the desk plant, waterproof and wasn't technology great? Another placed when she straightened his blotter. The third on his windowframe, a visual one. Two placed when she vacuumed behind the couch, another on each picture frame.
The voice had specified that there should be more than enough. "He might find one or two, so we need more than enough," synthesized, personally she thought that it sounded like a bad eighties song, all retro syth vibes, but she was willing to forgive whoever paid her that much cash.
Cash, cold and hard and lovely, but she was not below putting in one last bug, aimed so that she could pick up the safe perfectly. Why waste an oportunity?
She emptied the trash into her cart and left. How uneventful, she thought. And she still had to clean three other rooms.
5. freak show
Mad Max told her that the really good marks were the ones who expected to get stolen from. "They're the ones that try and explain the freaks. Or the ones that talk during the fucking magic show."
She giggled, but was already too late for her lesson with Vera the Contortionist so she settled on grinning at him and saying, "But that's why we're better than them, right?"
Max blew smoke at her and said, "Get outta here, kid. You're late."
The mark was seventeen, eighteen if she was reading him wrong. Bald, though, like Whitney the albino. Selina almost passed him by, except that...
She reexamined him, Jack the Ringleader knew how to spot a rube just by the way that they walked, but she wasn't that good yet. "You'll get there, kid," he said. She was twelve and felt like she was a child every time people said that.
The shoes, she realized. The shoes were too stiff, brand new and supposed to look worn, but they weren't broken in, just rubbed in dirt.
"What does that tell you?" Jack would ask, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Smart," she would say, "but not our smart." Jack's words parroted back at him at the right moment.
The bald boy, really bald, she noted, because she couldn't see any follicles beneath the surface, was heading towards the freak show.
She should have known that.
Anne would have said, "Oh, them? They like to come and stare. Say, 'thank god I'm not that freaky.'" She tired to rub oil between her shoulder blades, but the skin was so dry already it made her wince and hiss to reach even partway. "Hey, kid, would you mind?"
Beneath Selina's oil-slicked fingers the scales felt almost normal.
Max was performing in twenty minutes, more than enough time to flip the mark and stash her earnings. If she was lucky, she wouldn't even have to work at it, just bump and slip. Her fingers were still so clumsy that she felt embarrassed every time she worked with The Magician, but they were good enough for the street.
"It's ok, kid." The Magician said, "We all start somewhere." One month and she still got caught every time Selina practiced on Jack the Ringleader.
When the mark shelled out the money to get into the freak show she watched carefully, wallet into his back pocket and that was so... boring.
He at least could have placed it into his jacket pocket, or somewhere she'd have to work to get it.
Fifteen minutes until Max's show and she needed to earn her keep, so she followed him into the darkness. In the musty smell of the tent and the half sweet smell of sweat, she watched him carefully as he walked from exhibit to exhibit.
He paused at Anne, watching her graceful posing with interest. Everyone liked Anne, because she didn't look Dangerous until she smiled.
Anne smiled at him. His whole body stilled and Selina took her chance.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she said, running into him on her way out the door.
When she opened the wallet, safe in Max's trailer, she only found twenty dollars and no credit cards. "Fucking marks," she said, rushing to catch the beginning of Max's act.
Please post a comment on this story.
Fandom: Batman, Smallville
Title: Five Ways Selina Kyle never met Lex Luthor
Author: girl-wonder [email]
Details: Standalone | R | het | 14k | 02/16/04
Characters: Selina Kyle, Lex Luthor
Summary: "Lex Luthor," Selina says. "It's a pleasure."
[top of page]
|Home/QuickSearch + Random + Upload + Search + Contact + GO List|