77 Dealing with Smart People is a Pain in the Ass #77

Flying away from the Wayne mansion, I couldn't help but feel like I'd just been outsmarted by the ultimate smooth operator. Dealing with Bruce Wayne is like trying to outwit a chess grandmaster with a deck of Uno cards. I mean, seriously, the guy sees through my plans faster than I can say "universal cure for cancer."

When I pitched him the idea of teaming up on the cure, I wasn't feeling particularly charitable. I've got the cure ready to roll, so why share the profits with Gotham's richest playboy? Well, because capitalism and red tape, that's why. 

As it turns out, you can't just rock up with a miracle drug and expect everyone to jump on board. Nah, there are hoops to jump through, boxes to tick, and all kinds of bureaucratic rigmarole to navigate.

So there I am, hoping Bruce's company can cut through the red tape like a hot knife through butter. And wouldn't you know it, he catches on faster than a cat on a laser pointer. Though I might not know the intricacies of navigating the medicine market, Bruce Wayne, with his multi-billion company and its many branches, would be an expert. 

Furthermore, he had more than a subsidiary specialized in producing medicine with all the know-how and know-how that comes with them, making him the ideal partner. 

So, here's the deal: teaming up with Bruce wasn't just about cutting through the red tape. Sure, I needed him to fast-track the testing phase and all that bureaucratic nonsense, but there was more to it than that. 

I was counting on the Wayne name to lend some serious street cred to our little cure. People see the Wayne label on a product, and they automatically trust it. It's like magic.

Once folks start popping our miracle pills and seeing the results, they'll be singing our praises from the rooftops. And hey, that means they'll also trust my company, no strings attached. In the future, I wouldn't have to rely on Bruce and his company. 

But of course, I wasn't there to ask for a handout without offering anything in return. 

I offered Bruce a healthy slice of the pie, because hey, the guy deserves it. But let's be real, he probably would've helped out even if there wasn't a penny in it for him. That's just how he rolls. But I've also got my pride, you know? 

Here's the kicker though: I've got another reason for cozying up to Bruce, call it a gut feeling. Heck, call me paranoid paranoid even, but I can totally picture some folks getting their panties in a twist over a universal cancer cure. 

I mean, chemo and all that medical jazz? It's big business, and some people won't be thrilled about losing their cash cow. It sounds like a cheesy movie plot, but in this crazy world, you never know.

So, here's the scoop: Bruce took my proposal hook, line, and sinker. You'd think I'd be over the moon, right? Wrong. I'm fuming, and here's why: the guy saw through my whole plan like he had x-ray vision or something. 

And to add insult to injury, he had the nerve to call me out on it with this smug look that screamed, "I've got you, buddy."

Now, don't get me wrong, I've always prided myself on being pretty sharp. But compared to Bruce Wayne, I might as well be using crayons. It's a bitter pill to swallow, let me tell you. But hey, I'm not one to back down from a challenge. 

Sooner or later, I'll have my moment to outsmart that smug son of a gun. Just wait and see.

...

In a clandestine chamber shrouded in shadows, Lex Luthor and Vandal Savage sat across from each other, their eyes locked on the intricate dance of chess pieces. The room was adorned with ancient artifacts, hinting at the wisdom and experience of its occupants.

"Why the sudden resurgence, Vandal?" Lex inquired, his voice laced with intrigue as he made his move on the chessboard. "Could it be because the UN has put Amanda Waller on trial?"

Vandal's lips curled into a sly smile, his gaze steady as he considered Lex's query. "Ah, Amanda Waller..." he mused, his tone tinged with amusement. "She has indeed been a thorn in my side. But my return is not merely a response to her antics. It's about seizing the opportune moment, the stars aligning perfectly for my grand ambition."

With a calculated stroke, Vandal maneuvered his queen into position. "Checkmate in three..." he said, rising gracefully from his seat as he prepared to take his leave, his aura exuding confidence and power.

As Vandal made his exit, Lex's sharp intellect went into overdrive. His eyes flickered with a newfound determination as he surveyed the chessboard, analyzing every move and countermove. 

Moving a pawn, he placed it at the board's epicenter, changing the dynamics of the game.

"You've underestimated the complexity of the game too much, old friend," Lex murmured to himself, a smirk playing on his lips. "A single piece has escaped your notice..." 

...

Lounging comfortably in my room, I flicked on the TV to catch up on the latest news. The familiar face of a news anchor filled the screen, her voice echoing through the room as she delved into the latest headlines.

"Breaking news today as the trial of Amanda Waller by the UN continues to draw international attention," the news lady announced, her tone grave as she recounted the unfolding drama. 

"Investigations have unearthed shocking details surrounding the destruction of Parador, with reports suggesting that the island's dictatorial leader resorted to detonating nuclear bombs after a covert team sent by the US government backed him into a corner."

I leaned in closer, my interest piqued by the unfolding saga. The anchor continued, her words painting a vivid picture of political intrigue and global condemnation.

"Amidst mounting accusations and finger-pointing, many countries have placed blame squarely on the US, condemning their alleged involvement in the Parador incident," she reported, her expression serious as she relayed the gravity of the situation. 

"In response, the US government has taken the unprecedented step of handing over Amanda Waller and Sarge Steel for trial, holding them accountable for their purported roles in the catastrophe."

I couldn't help but shake my head at the tangled web of international politics and power struggles playing out on the screen. 

Sure enough, Eclipso's schemes run deep. Blowing up an entire island and leaving it looking like a nuclear wasteland – talk about overkill. Finding any evidence linking Waller or the US to this mess would be like finding a needle in a haystack, except the haystack is on fire and glowing with radiation. 

In other words, it should have been impossible to find any evidence implicating Waller or the US government in the nuclear wasteland that was once Parador. Unless someone made sure such evidence could be easily found, that is. 

Eclipso must've thought he'd hit the jackpot by wiping out Waller and her gang along with Parador. But surprise, surprise – he had to run into me. Though I managed to save the Shadow Fighters, I've got a feeling Waller's not getting off scot-free. I can't imagine her talking her way out of this one, that's for sure.

As for Eclipso, all his plans don't mean shit now. His evil spirit's locked up tight in those dusty black diamonds chilling in my shadow storage. 

I couldn't help but feel bad for all those people in Parador, though. They paid the ultimate price for Eclipso's twisted game. If I ever get the chance, I'll make him suffer. In any case, I'll get around to wiping his sorry existence once I have some free time sooner or later, so it doesn't really matter.

Right now, my top priority is beefing up Livewire's show with some killer guests. And who better to spice things up than Poison Ivy? If I can convince her to grace us with her presence, we'll have the whole city talking.

Tracking down Ivy won't be a walk in the park, and convincing her will be even more difficult, but hey, nothing worth doing ever is, and it's not like I had anything better to do anyway. 

With Wesker holding down the fort at the company and Mr. Freeze thawing out his wife after curing her, I've got some time to spare. 

Speaking of Freeze, did I mention he cracked the code and found a cure for his wife, all thanks to the Father Box? Well, he did, and guess who got full rights to the universal cancer cure he came up with? 

Me, stupid!