The morning after it had happened, Lex received a rather unexpected fax. It was a copy of an article in a Gotham newspaper with the headline: LUTHOR SHOT. SON A SUSPECT?
Written cryptically in all-too-familiar scrawl, just under a split screen shot of Lionel and Lex, were the words "for once, the headline wasn't about me." He could feel the smirk on the author's face as he'd penned the note.
The second page of the transmission was more in depth, however.
So, someone finally went and shot Lionel? I can't say I'm really surprised; the man has a lot of enemies in this world. For your sake, I hope he pulls through.
Thank you, Captain Obvious, Lex thought, but smiled in spite of himself.
The media idiots here in Gotham have been speculating that you did the deed. They don't know you very, do they?
And no, my friend, while I believe you to be quite capable of taking a man's life, I have no doubt in my mind that you would not shoot him. As I told Alfred just this morning, if a Luthor was going to be killed by his own son, it would be something with much more artistic integrity and waxing in poetic justice and much irony.
I would suggest poison--something to slowly wear him down, weaken him, and leave him totally at your mercy and in your debt before he would succumb to it--but you've likely already thought of that possibility.
His smile became a hearty laugh, which surprised more than one of the lawyers hovering about him at the moment.
By now I trust you have a team of lawyers and investigators on the case, but if you need anything more, do not hesitate to call on me. Both Alfred and I stand behind you, Lex, as we always have.
Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Yet, it was comforting to know that at least someone believed in him still.
And if all else fails, I promise to visit you in prison.