Owner	Pose
Mercy Graves	"Let's try this again, shall we?" Mercy Graves was a consummate professional and this situation was business as usual. Though one might wonder if they didn't know she was more than a bodyguard and chauffeur. After all, she did what was required and in this situation, it was to get some answers. She was in the darkened room. Being a model home, at night the windows were closed tightly, covered with heavy curtains. There were also blinds in place that kept light from being seen inside on the exterior. The reasoning was to protect the staged decor from would be thieves who might be peeking in windows. The reality was far darker. After all, it would be difficult to explain why someone was there at this wee hour of the morning, with a man tied to a chair in the middle of the large kitchen. A kitchen that was also covered in drop cloths. Mercy was in her usual skirt but her jacket and hat were off. This left her white button up blouse with long sleeves revealed. Though currently those sleeves were rolled up. Gloves were on her hands, leather and black. She was standing in front of the man on the chair. A man who was known as James Wilkins. James had been worked over for quite some time but had yet to give the information that Mercy was demanding. Seemed it was time for round three. "Give me the name and we can end this distasteful business."
Lex Luthor	James Wilkins was good at his job.     He had always excelled in his studies from a young age, he always went that extra mile to try and earn the extra credit needed in class. He went out of his way to get to know his professors in college. And when he was out in the business world he let his employers know he was willing to put in the long hours and go that distance needed. He also made sure to learn about his superiors. Their families. Their hobbies. What they liked to do on the weekends.     It was this last thing that proved to be a mistake.     It had led Wilkins down a path to learn of the activities of some of his superiors. Led him to notice that in the accounting connected to their travels and their efforts in creating more opportunities they seemed to be getting paid a good bit more than seemed entirely kosher. What's more when he brought this to the attention of his superiors this went down poorly.     It was when he found himself diverted to the Eastern Pennsylvania division of his company that he realized he had been fired. But not fired. As his days were now empty in his office, and he got paid the same amount of money. As he would likely be paid forever. Until he quit. Which might have fit in some ways...     Except James spoke to a reporter.     And that was not a good idea.
Mercy Graves	He had a choice here. He could talk. Or not. He'd already proven he was more than willing to speak to people. Sadly, they were the wrong kind of people. Reporters were the scum of the Earth. At least, in Mercy's experience. "A handful of words and you can go back to your office," she offered in that tone which was almost conversational. No threat. No anger. But she was persistent and to be sure he was paying attention, she reached out with a rapid-shot directly for the brachial plexus. It should give a nice shot of intense pain followed by a numb hand. She did not hit hard enough to break the collarbone, though that wasn't off the list of possibilities if this night continued much longer. "The name. If we get past that, we can move on to more pressing questions."
Lex Luthor	It was in that moment that lights washed over those shaded windows, the headlamps of a vehicle settling into the visitor's spot outside that model home. Likely as they drove in they would have seen the welcome center, the beautiful sculpture of Nike in the middle of the roundabout that gave access to the housing complex. But then they parked outside that model home.     It was as Wilkins was telling her, after her strike had rendered him into a rasping rough coughing fit. "I told you..." His breathing was heavy, labored, spittle marring his lips tinged with the crimson of blood. "He didn't give me his real name. He was... he knew just how much shit would come down on him. He... he tricked me."     His voice was desperate, that higher pitch when they were putting their all into negotiating when hoping that they were still in that phase when matters could be salvaged, when their interrogators could perhaps still be convinced they were really on their side!     Yet it was clear he wasn't being entirely truthful as earlier... his story had been different.     Though the questioning likely halted. For in the next moment the door opened and in walked the tall man in the great coat.
Mercy Graves	"You reached out to him." Which cast a bit of doubt on him being duped. He knew the name. He was just being stubborn about giving it. And Mercy had a deadline. Because they needed that name to be able to take next steps. She drew back a hand, prepared to punch her captive again across the face. When she heard the sound of that engine, she paused. No panic, no concern. She had been expecting an arrival but she waited, just in case this was a surprise instead of that arrival. When the door opened, she took a step back from the prisoner and gave a polite nod to the newcomer.
Lex Luthor	Wilkins had started to protest, telling her quickly, "No-no-no it might look like that but..."     Though his words fell off as the tall man took off his hat, then started to slide his arms out of the immaculate coat one arm at a time. He nearly hung it up on the hook of the nearby hatrack that fit the pristine decor of the model house oh so perfectly. Then he turned around, sweeping a hand over the lapel of his jacket as if dismissing a small mote of dust that had dared to settle.     "Mercy, I'm disappointed in you." Lex Luthor stood there before the two of them, his brow furrowed with what could only be considered annoyance. "Do you realize how much money Jimmy's worth to us? How much he saved us last quarter alone?"     Shaking his head it's clear from Lex's tone that he was indeed disappointed. "I've followed his career for years, as I do with all my star employees in all of our extended corporations."     Which had Wilkins' eyes widening, irises dilated as he looked and whispered a soft prayer to himself.
Mercy Graves	At hearing Lex was disappointed in her, Mercy's expression fell. It was obvious to the captive how much that upset the woman. Quickly she schooled her expression back into neutrality. But when Lex continued to praise the man tied to the chair, she frowned. "He's a lying piece of ..." And there she paused. Because she knew that Lex didn't appreciate profanity in any form. It was a sign of baseness in a person. He did not tolerate it. "Nevermind. Of course you are right, Sir. My apologies." Though she turned her gaze on Mr. Wilkins and the anger was prominent. It was his fault she was embarassed. It was his fault that Lex Luthor was displeased with her. It was his fault she almost said something improper in front of their employer, which would lead to more disappointment. And Mr. Wilkins was going to pay that price if she had her way.
Lex Luthor	"That's... that's very kind of you to say, Mr. Luthor. I try my best, I really do!" There was animation in his features, a glimmer of hope as he strained against the cords on the chair, but then he looked at Mercy's expression and his eyes fell. She was a stern figure, dark in the shadows, while Lex... he was clearly the light.     Which was obvious as he stood there at the edge of the halo of light provided by the nearby lamp. He smiled sadly as he sat down at one of the burgundy over-stuffed chairs that would be used for smoking after meals in times past, though now served more to just lend an element of 'class' to the model home.     "You must forgive Miss Graves. You know we are beset on all sides by forces that are both known and unknown to us. So we have to be careful, it weighs on her so that she becomes... animated in her work."     "Of... of course, Mr. Luthor." Wilkins swallowed with a dry throat then frowned, "I would never do anything to betray you or damage our cause. It's just this reporter... I think he did something to my email."     Which causes Lex to nod, "I was thinking something along those lines since there were some tell-tale inconsistencies in the mail daemon access to our internal servers. Some of the information was encrypted and seemed to be coming from without instead of within."     Which, was news to Wilkins as his eyes widened. Then he /bit/ on the hope, the sliver of something to verify this story, this fever dream he had while the mad woman had beaten him. "That's exactly what I was saying, Mr. Luthor! But you... you have to understand, this guy he's... he's got the support of some very big names. My family..."     Which had Lex interrupting as he said calmly, "You. And your family, Mr. Wilkins. Jim, if I may. Jim. You and your family are now safe. You have my word. From this moment on the best of our security services will see to you and yours. We know how deceptive these people can be."     He takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales slowly. "I just really need your help. The name of this man who contacted you and set you up. I need that so we can counter his efforts. It's very important."
Mercy Graves	At the look from Wilkins, Mercy didn't glance away. Didn't break eye contact. She stared daggers at him until he dropped his gaze and looked away at his Angel of Mercy (not her but the actual thing), His Beacon of Light: Lex Luthor. As they conversed, she moved to a countertop where a metal case rested. She opened it to reveal a professional set of kitchen knives. Though there were also a few things in that case which would never be found in a kitchen, though they could prove useful extracting information from an uncooperative subject. She pulled out one of the larger chef's knives, taking a moment to test the edge then looking back as Lex made that promise. "Give me two more hours, Mr. Luthor. I'll get that information for you."
Lex Luthor	"I know that these times are difficult, Mercy. But if we ever have to stoop that far... it's too much." Lex tells her with such solemnity, such weight of regard, that it must seem as if this whole thing must have been a misunderstanding. And it is so very important for them to have that name.     Which is when Wilkins says, "I... I don't know his name, but I know how we can find it out."     Which has Lex quirking an eyebrow as he looks over at Mercy, then looks back to the poor unfortunate man.     "I thought if I could get an edge over him I'd be able to turn this around, Mr. Luthor. I never meant to actually tell him anything. I was trying... trying to fight for your dream."     "I know, Jim. That's why I told Mr. Murtaugh to hire you. You're a visionary."     "Exactly. I just... I'm sorry I bit off more than I could chew. I should have trusted you. Confided in you guys."     "Then help me, Jim. How can we find this reporter?"     "He's... he agreed to meet me in Gotham, 8pm near Vitelli's on 4th and Grand. He usually wears a blue hat and has a limp... the name he gave me was Woodward. But I know that's not his real name. I'm sorry Mr. Luthor. I should..." He coughs again, then shakes his head, "I should have trusted you."     "And I regret that this situation pushed us all... to extremes." As Lex says that he turns to look at Mercy long enough for Wilkins to catch it, that hint of... 'admonishment?' just long enough until Jim nods and murmurs, "I understand."     "If you'll excuse me, Jim." As Luthor says that he turns and walks back toward the door, taking his jacket and hat off the rack as he gestures for Mercy to follow him.
Mercy Graves	As the information is given finally, Mercy frowns. She catches that look from Lex and gives another nod. Then the knife she is holding is put away. The case is closed. The gesture from Lex has her falling into step behind him. Out of the kitchen, to the rack by the front door. She wouldn't need to wipe down the rack later as the two of them had visited several of the properties in the last week. Any DNA would be accounted for by their visits, which were all on the iternary for each and the sign-ins for the properties themselves. They were professionals, after all. She paused at the front door with Lex, giving him a hint of a smile.
Lex Luthor	Once they're outside Lex's returned smile is barely there, thin-lipped, closed-mouthed, though it reaches his eyes as he nods once. A hand reaches over to the side of the building where a small black box rests underneath the mail slot, a single red LED light blinking as he takes it off the wall and deactivates that light.     He looks at Mercy levelly and says, "Painless ideally." Then he withdraws a small glass bottle of clear liquid and offers it to her, "Sprinkle this around the area of the end result."     Then Lex turns and starts to move back toward the vehicle that activates as he approaches, its automated systems bringing the motor to life. Over his shoulder he says, "And Mercy."     A pause as he rests a foot on the runnerboard on the side of that large SUV. "Have a good weekend."