Lex Luthor

Lex paced like a predator in a cage, his hand tightening into a fist before he slammed it against the polished surface of his desk. The fractured remains of a bourbon glass glittered across the floor, amber liquid seeping into scattered reports that all bore the same humiliating truth—Superman had triumphed again.

His breathing steadied, his voice low and controlled, but each word carried the weight of seething obsession, growing sharper as it spilled from his lips.

“Another failure. Another moment where the world sings hymns to their alien idol while ignoring the brilliance standing before them. They cheer for a false god, while I—Lex Luthor—am left to claw against the blindness of humanity.”

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His gaze, cold and unblinking, fixed on the skyline outside his window.

“But they will learn. Even gods bleed. And when Superman falls, it will be my hand that delivers the truth.”