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Hearing the crunch of footsteps approaching, Clark ducked behind some shrubbery (fortunately, the Wayne mansion's ostentatious topiaries were tall enough to conceal even someone of his considerable stature), just in time to hear someone's slurred voice holding forth, "Clark Kent? He's the natural son of somebody. Hard to guess where Jonathan Kent found him -- Kent's a good farmer, but sticks to his own turf and rarely sets foot outside of Smallville. Found him he did, though, and arranged his schooling and all that. Paltry as the Kent property is, and entailed too, the boy must of course make his own way in the world, so it's a newspaper reporter he's to be."
A moment of silence ensued, while the slurred voice's listeners absorbed this. Then another unseen voice asked, "Smallville, you said? Isn't that where that magistrate's son -- the one who defied his father and became a ship's captain..."
"Captain Luthor? Aye, some say he lived his youth in Smallville, but others say he was brought up in Hell. For sure, wherever he sprang from, he grew up ruthless, fearing neither man nor God: it's how he was able to make his fortune so quickly from privateering, and now he's used all that money to buy up factories up and down the coast, he'll soon be the richest man in England."
"You sure of that? Don't forget whose garden you're standing in, Whitney!"
"The Waynes will never be poor, but mark my words, Lex Luthor's something else. Bruce Wayne spends his days idling and gaming, and this charming party we're at is a fine example of his elaborate entertaining, but what Luthor lacks in perruque, he more than makes up for with ambition. It's what he aims to do with that ambition that's got some folks worried."
Another voice, a gruff one, cut in: "Some say this hero that fanciful ladies have dubbed the 'Super-Man' has got Luthor himself worried. Anybody who doesn't abide by the strict letter of the law will have to answer to the Super-Man -- that's what the gossips in Metropolis are saying."
"You believe those rumors? An angelic being in a carmine cape who thwarts bank robbers and rescues fainting virgins from highwaymen? Some drunkard's hallucination is all there is to that, I wager."
"Not true! My cousin once saw with his own eyes..."
The voices trailed away, and Clark slowly straightened up, heart pounding. Lex Luthor was never far from his thoughts, but to hear the man's name spoken aloud by others never failed to make a flush rise in his neck and cheeks and ears. Especially here, hiding from Bruce Wayne's party in Bruce Wayne's shadowy garden, he couldn't help but be reminded of that afternoon when he was eighteen, in the disorientingly tilting shadows of his father's dark barn: Lex's hot thumb and forefinger wrapped around his throat, Lex's teeth testing the sensitivity threshold of his earlobe.... But that had been years ago. Lex never acknowledged him now; the previous week, Clark had overheard someone say that Lex was on the verge of marrying into the Teschmacher family. It was as if Lex didn't remember him at all.
