[Gotham City. Nidavellir Workshop.]
"This is where you'll be working, Miss Lang," I said, guiding her through the tall, reinforced doors leading into the main chamber of the Nidavellir Workshop.
The faint scent of machine oil drifted through the air, mingling with the dry metallic tang of unpolished steel. Along both walls stood worktables and metal racks, cluttered with neatly stacked components, half-unpacked crates, and rolls of blueprint paper.
At one end, a solitary drafting table sat beneath a hanging industrial lamp, its yellow light casting long shadows across the polished concrete floor.
"It's a little empty now," I added as I gestured to the bare corners of the hall, "but that's only temporary. We'll soon have the research equipment installed—oscilloscopes, spectrometers, atomic fabricators. All the finest tools you'll need for your work. Every purchase and technical upgrade will go through you directly, of course, so there are no delays in setup or calibration." Lana took it all in quietly, her gaze sweeping from one end of the workshop to the other.
I could see that, beneath her composed expression, she was trying to rein in her surprise. The quiet hum of the old air-conditioning system filled the room as she finally stopped and exhaled softly.
"I don't even know what to say," she murmured, her voice low and uncertain. "This… this feels almost unreal. Like a scene out of a fairy tale where a handsome prince rescues a helpless damsel in distress."
I smiled faintly. "Lana—"
"Mr. Reath," she interrupted gently but firmly, turning toward me. "I'm deeply grateful for all of this. Honestly, it almost feels too good to be true. The conditions, the personal workspace, the freedom to research—and that salary with all those zeros." A wry smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained cautious. "Please don't take it personally if I sound defensive, but I think you can guess why I'm being careful."
"I assume you're referring to your… illustrious reputation," I said, folding my arms.
"Or rather," she murmured, lowering her gaze, "the part about my supposed incompetence, arrogance, and lack of talent as an engineer."
"That's utter nonsense," I replied immediately, shaking my head. "Believe me, I know the truth of your capabilities better than most. Rumors fade; results don't. And your record speaks for itself, Miss Lang."
She hesitated, as if deciding whether to believe me. "Then you must already understand how I ended up like this—and why I'm cautious. Lex Luthor doesn't forgive what he calls disobedience. He controls everyone and everything around him, and he despises losing that control." Her tone hardened at the sound of his name. Even now, though she was free of his shadow, fear still lingered in her posture. Yet despite all that, she was warning me—risking the last opportunity she'd been given.
Offering her this position at the Nidavellir Workshop had felt right from the start. With the help of my AI assistant, Eve, who maintained a meticulous cross-universe database of heroes, scientists, and engineers, I had found someone whose skill and loyalty made her the perfect candidate to bring my more ambitious designs to life.
By coincidence—or perhaps by fate—it had been Lex Luthor himself who created that opportunity. Lana Lang, famous as Clark Kent's childhood friend from Smallville, had long since stepped out of the background of another man's legend. She had stood on the front lines of the crisis more than once.
She had helped Superman save the world countless times, and even defeated Brainiac's attempt to construct a super network out of comatose human minds. She'd outsmarted an android whose neural output eclipsed the human intellect a thousandfold.
She wasn't Tony Stark or Bruce Wayne, but her resourcefulness, courage, and technical brilliance made her someone you wanted on your side. Behind those calm green eyes was a fiercely analytical mind—the kind that saw solutions before others even saw the problem.
Luthor's obsession had driven her away; my sense of trust had brought her here. In every hire I made, skill came second. Loyalty always came first. And Lana Lang was, without question, someone who had proved her loyalty time and again. She had protected Superman's secret identity for years, despite threats, bribery attempts, and dangers that would have broken most people. I never doubted her discretion or her integrity.
"Miss Lang," I said quietly, breaking the thoughtful silence between us, "you can rest assured—I protect my people. I've never turned my back on a colleague, and I don't intend to start now. Whether it's Lex Luthor, Wilson Fisk, or even Victor von Doom, it makes no difference. Anyone who threatens those under my protection will answer to me. You have nothing to worry about."
"Mr. Reath," she began slowly, her brow furrowed, "do you truly realize how far Lex Luthor's influence stretches? Do you know how cruel that man can be?"
"Better than you'd imagine," I replied without hesitation.
Her gaze softened with a hint of wonder. "And still you claim you'll protect me. I can't tell if that's bravery or arrogance."
"Perhaps a combination of both," I said with a rueful smile.For a brief moment, the tension dissolved. The faint hum of the workshop's machines filled the silence until she spoke again, more gently this time.
"Thank you," she said at last. "You appeared at the worst moment of my life and offered me a new beginning. Honestly, I had almost decided to return to Smallville, leaving all this behind. I never would have guessed I'd end up in Gotham City, of all places. Life truly is unpredictable."
I chuckled. "That's one observation we can agree on completely."
Her lips curved upward slightly before she tilted her head. "Still… there's something I'm curious about. Where is everyone else? The other staff members?"
"Oh, that?" I rubbed the back of my neck. "Well, at the moment, you're technically the only official hire. But don't worry—we're already in talks with some additional specialists. Recruitment is underway."
Her eyebrows lifted. "So I'm the only one here right now?"
"Not entirely," I said with a half-smile. "In a sense, I count myself as part of the team too. I'll be working here from time to time."
"You?" she repeated, clearly surprised. "I thought you were more of an investor or project director."
"Why can't I be both?" I replied casually.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I suppose that's fair. Who would have thought that a media personality like you would turn out to have a scientist's soul?"
"I'll treat that as a compliment," I said, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, it is," she admitted, her amusement giving way to sincerity. "I've always respected your work, but seeing this—seeing you in this light—has changed my impression entirely." She extended her hand. "I look forward to a productive partnership, Mr. Reath."
"Likewise, Miss Lang," I said warmly, taking her hand in a firm handshake. "And trust me, this is only the beginning. There's something monumental waiting ahead of us."
Her curiosity flickered instantly. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" Her tone carried both interest and apprehension, as though she already guessed the answer might sound strange.
"Your first project," I said finally, pausing just long enough to ensure she caught the weight of my words, "is the design and calibration of a forge furnace."
She blinked, visibly puzzled. "A… forge furnace?"
I nodded. "Yes. One capable of reaching temperatures high enough to smelt vibranium.
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