“Had I interfered in the manner which I admit, and which I admit has been fairly proved (for I admire the truthfulness and candor of the greater portion of the witnesses who have testified in this case)–had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the so-called great, or in behalf of any of their friends–either father, mother, brother, sister, wife, or children, or any of that class–and suffered and sacrificed what I have in this interference, it would have been all right; and every man in this court would have deemed it an act worthy of reward rather than punishment.”
John Brown, Abolitionist; at his sentencing; November 2, 1859
A City on the Rise
Dimitri Vladkov turned back to his comrades in silence as Alexander Luthor walked back and started scribbling something on a piece of paper at the small table he occupied with his –– what, Assistant? Wife? Mistress?
All three men were struck dumb. Dimitri was a bit shellshocked from the flying man, but this meeting seemed to compound his confoundedness. Of course, everyone in the Skylight Club knew who Lex Luthor was; the rumor was that he owned the place, or partially owned it, but Lex Luthor didn’t just speak to patrons. A drink –– vodka and tonic water with a twist of lime –– arrived at the table in a highball glass, and Dimitri quickly downed it.
“Sorry mack, but Dimitri’s had a bit of a rough day. Seeing bird men and all,” explained Saul, slapping his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder and gripping it a bit too tightly as if to tell him get it together. Saul maintained eye contact and a grin with the irishman at the table. “What did you say your name was, pal? Warren?”
“Warner,” the man replied in a thick Irish brogue. “Liam Warner, and I’d say I’ve got an opportunity that could make the two of you a pretty penny.”
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