The room felt smaller now, confined.
Samael glanced around, taking in the sterile white walls, the humming machines, the constant, watchful presence of Mercy Graves stationed silently near the door.
It had been his entire world beyond the darkness for nineteen years, and now, suddenly, it felt… inadequate.
Lex had been uncharacteristically firm about his confinement. "Rest and recuperation," he'd declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The doctor's orders."
But Samael was restless. He needed stimulation, distraction, something to fill the void that had been his existence for so long. He needed… life.
"So," he began, addressing his father who sat in a chair opposite his bed, a tablet in his hands. "What do people even do while living?"
Lex looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and… something else. Curiosity? Amusement? It was hard to tell with his father.
"Do?" he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "They work, they socialize, they pursue their interests."
"Right, but like… what are the interests?" Samael asked, gesturing vaguely. "What's the big thing? What's everyone talking about?"
Lex paused, considering. "There are countless forms of entertainment available. Television, cinema, music, literature…"
"Television," Samael interrupted, latching onto the word. "Yeah, like… what's good on TV?"
Lex hesitated, a flicker of something crossing his face. He was clearly out of his element. "I… I don't typically watch television," he admitted. "But I'm sure there are countless options available. Mercy, perhaps you could provide some… recommendations."
Mercy Graves, ever efficient, produced her own tablet and began scrolling through a list. "There are several popular series, Mr. Luthor. Game of Crowns, American Idolators, The Flash…"
Samael's eyes widened. "The Flash? Like… the superhero?"
Mercy nodded. "A fictionalized account of his exploits, yes."
"Fictionalized?" Samael repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "So, they make a TV show about a guy who runs super fast? That's… weird." No, what he really finds weird is that there is an actual fictional show about a real life superhero in this world.
Do the real heroes look like the actors from his first life, or are those actors the ones acting the show?
"It's entertainment, Samael," Lex said, his voice regaining its usual composure. "People enjoy escapism."
"Escapism," Samael repeated, "Right. So, what else?"
Mercy continued to scroll through her list, rattling off a series of titles and descriptions.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," he said, holding up his hand. "I get the idea. TV is… weird. But I guess I should check it out. See what all the fuss is about."
He of course knew what TV is, but he needed to keep the act that though he had knowledge he had no experience.
Which in a way was true, his experience was nineteen years ago, he had a lot of life to catch up on.
Lex nodded, signaling Mercy to stop. He turned to Samael, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps a more… curated viewing experience would be appropriate. Something educational, informative."
Samael rolled his eyes. "Dad, I'm not five years old. I don't need educational programming. I want to see what everyone else is watching. I want to be… normal." Like hell he wanted to be normal. Being beyond normal is awesome.
Lex paused, considering. "Normal is overrated, Samael," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I understand your desire to… connect with the culture. Very well. We'll start with the popular series. But I reserve the right to veto anything I deem… inappropriate."
Samael grinned. "Deal."
And so began Samael's crash course in modern television. Lex had a massive screen installed in his room, along with a state-of-the-art sound system.
He then tasked Mercy with compiling a list of the most popular and critically acclaimed shows, ensuring that they were… "suitable" for his son's delicate sensibilities.
Samael devoured them all. He watched dramas, comedies, action series, and reality shows. He saw stories of love, loss, triumph, and betrayal. He learned about the world, about its people, about their hopes, their fears, and their dreams.
He was fascinated, amused, but also more... hungry. He wanted to experience more. To not just see, but also live. To taste more food and drink. To experience more connection, more interaction, more sights. He wanted to experience physical touch, women, love, sex, etc.
He wanted to experience all that his power and position granted him.
After a few days of television binging, Samael's craving became more. He needed sustenance, something beyond the bland, tasteless food that the hospital provided.
"I'm hungry," he announced one afternoon, interrupting Lex who was reviewing some documents on his tablet. "I want real food. Not this… this hospital garbage."
Lex looked up, "Real food?" he repeated. "What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know," Samael said, shrugging. "Something… tasty. Something… unhealthy. I want a what they call burger. And fries. And a milkshake."
Lex hesitated. "I'm not sure that's wise, Samael. You've been in a coma for nineteen years. Your digestive system may not be ready for such… rich fare."
"Dad, I'm fine," Samael said, rolling his eyes. "I feel great. I can handle a burger. Besides, I'm starving. I need something to fill me up."
Lex after contemplating a bit, remembering the scans showing his son's superhuman physicality, sighed, relenting. "Very well. But we'll start with something… moderate.
A small burger, a few fries, and a light milkshake. And if you experience any… discomfort… we'll stop immediately."
Samael grinned. "Deal."
A few minutes later, Mercy arrived with a tray laden with food. Samael's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the burger, the crispy fries, and the thick, creamy milkshake.
He grabbed the burger, inhaling its savory aroma. He took a bite, his eyes closing in pleasure.
"Oh, man," he moaned, his mouth full. "That's… amazing."
He devoured the burger in a matter of minutes, then moved on to the fries. He dipped them in ketchup, savoring the salty, tangy flavor.
Finally, he picked up the milkshake and took a long, slow sip. The cold, sweet liquid washed over his tongue, sending a shiver of delight down his spine.
"This," he declared, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Is the best thing I've ever tasted."
Lex watched him, his expression softening. He was… satisfied that his son was experiencing some form of enjoyment.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Samael," he said, a hint of something that could have been warmth in his voice. "But remember, moderation is key."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Samael said, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm not gonna go crazy."
But inside, he was reveling in the experience. It was more than just the taste of the food. It was the sensation of eating, of feeling his body respond to the nourishment, of connecting with the world in a tangible way.
It was… life.
Over the next few days, Samael continued to explore the world of food and drink. He sampled everything from pizza and pasta to shrimp and steak.
He tried different types of soda, juice, coffee, and tea. He remembered why he always had a particular fondness for chocolate, devouring bars of it with unrestrained glee.
Lex provided him with what he asked, though with extreme oversight. He seemed to understand that his son needed this, to experience these simple pleasures, to see him come alive after so many years of dormancy.
But there was always a limit, a boundary that Lex refused to cross. He was careful to monitor Samael's intake, ensuring that he didn't overindulge, that he didn't jeopardize his health.
He was also careful to steer him away from certain things, things that he deemed… unsuitable. Alcohol, for example, was strictly forbidden. As were certain types of drugs and medications.
Samael didn't protest. He understood his father's concerns. He knew that he was still vulnerable, that his body was still fragile.
Besides that, he had no interest in drugs and alchohol anyway, disliking the lack of control they'd give in his first life, and the fact that in this life they would have no effect on him whatsoever.
One evening, as they were watching a movie together, Samael decided to broach a subject that had been on his mind for some time.
"Dad," he began, his voice casual. "Why are you doing this?"
Lex looked at him, his brow furrowing slightly. "Doing what?" he asked.
"This," Samael said, gesturing around the room. "Spending all your time with me. Buying me stuff. Watching TV. It's… nice. But you have a company to run. A world to conquer. You can't just drop everything to hang out with your previously comatose son."
Lex paused, his expression becoming unreadable. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the screen.
"It's… a reallocation of resources," he said, his voice low. "You situation… it's unique. There were deficiencies in your upbringing, due to circumstances. This is an attempt to mitigate those deficiencies."
Unknown to Samael, what his father was really saying is that he missed it. Missed the fatherly experience of seeing his son grow, take his first steps towards him, fall, rise, say his first words, all of what a father should experience has been taken from him by circumstance.
Samael though despite not realising these thoughts watched him, his mind racing. He knew that his father was a complex man, a man of many layers.
He knew that he was capable of great calculation, though he was still trying to understand where he stood in the grand scheme of things.
He wondered what was going on inside his head, what he was really thinking, what he was really planning.
"But you could have someone else do this," Samael said, pressing the issue. "You could hire a team of caregivers, tutors, companions. You don't need to be here. You have more important things to do."
Lex remained silent for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on the screen. Then, he turned to Samael, his eyes… intense.
"Efficiency," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I am the most efficient resource available for this task. Furthermore… I am… invested in the outcome."
Samael looked at his father, his heart… confused. He knew that Lex Luthor was not a sentimental man, that he rarely expressed - if at all - his emotions.
But he could see it in his eyes, in the way he spoke. There was something there.
"Thanks, Dad," Samael said, his voice still a bit choked.
Lex nodded, though moving not an inch to show physical affection. "It is a… logical allocation of my time. Besides," he added, a hint of something that could have been a joke playing on his lips.
"I'm a good enough leader that I've set things up that things can be handled for a while without my direct observation."
The movie continued to play, but neither of them were watching it. They were both lost in their own thoughts, contemplating the future.
The silence stretched, comfortable and familiar.
It was a silence that wasn't that of the darkness, but of comfort, something Samael had waited nineteen years to experience.
And with certainty, he knew, he will experience this more, this comfort, for all who try to take away his pleasures will be met with his displeasure, and those who are will be erased from the face of the universe.
This is the way it should be, the way he will make it be.
And none will be able to stop him.
--------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter,
Do tell me how you found it.
What do you think of Samael's motivations? Do they make sense? Are they too simple?
I'm interested to hear you guys' thoughts about it.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)