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“Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Spencer,” Clark Kent said, adjusting his glasses.
Kate glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Clark Kent didn’t hold himself like a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter,[1] that was for sure. His suit was ill-fitting and slightly rumpled, and his posture was horrible.
But he was also one of the most detailed oriented and determined reporter that Kate had ever encountered. His work wasn’t just good, it was excellent, and the man himself was squeaky clean. He was unbribable, which meant that no one could pay him off to smuggle weapons into the facility.
And, unlike his wife, he wouldn’t take a swing at her client, even if he so utterly deserved it.
“Mr. Kent,” she said. “Please. Have a seat.”
He cautiously sat down in her chair, which seemed tiny compared to the man’s frame. A farmboy, her client had told her. And he looked it. He had all-American good looks, with a farmer’s tan and the bulk of someone who had spent his childhood tipping tractors or whatever it was that country boys did.
“Are you alright with me taping this?” He asked, holding up a tape recorder. Old fashioned, not digital, magnetic tape.
“As long as you turn it off if I say something is off the record,” she said, nodding.
“Of course.”
It probably was “of course” to a man like Clark Kent. Principled. She liked that.
She would need it.
He set the recorder on her desk. “Ready to go?”
“Whenever you are,” Kate said.
He gave her a dorky little smile and pressed the button.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me. I know you and Mr. Luthor haven’t been talking to the press much.”
“I’m a fan of your work, Mr. Kent.”
“Please, call me Clark.”
“Then it’s Kate.”
He nodded, and then the smile faded.
She watched, fascinated, as his demeanor shifted.
“Ms. Spencer, you were known for years for being one of the nation’s most high-profile prosecuting attorneys. You made it your life’s work to go after so-called supervillains, metahuman criminals, and other people who would go toe-to-toe with the Justice League on regular occasions. But after 2007, you began taking defense cases,[2] and switched to defending those same people from the system you once pursued relentlessly, even advocating for the death penalty on numerous occasions. Why the change of heart?”
“I still believe that meta criminals, be those enhanced individuals, aliens, homo magi, or men with enough money and power to put themselves on that level are under-dealt with in the system. That hasn’t changed. We as a society are struggling with the concept of justice. What it means, how we can understand, and how we can hold those who hold themselves above ordinary citizens as gods accountable. We’ve been fighting for answers to these questions for nearly a hundred years, since superheroes started appearing. But after the Crisis, I realized that things went both ways.”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.
“Supervillains, like ordinary citizens, are either represented by the best of the best, or by overworked pro-bono lawyers. And given the amount of money that is represented in supervillain cases, this leaves that system incredibly vulnerable to corruption. These accused supers deserve good and fair legal representation. People who will fight for them and ensure their voices and rights are heard. But we as ordinary citizens also deserve to know that the person making these arguments is making them out of good faith. That they’re not going to bribe a judge or a jury member, that they’re not going to fail a case because someone took a bribe. I have the privilege that I can afford to do that. And so I’m going to. I believe that my record shows that I’m no pushover. And I can assure anyone who asks that I’m going to fight Lex Luthor’s case correctly. No games, no bribes, no back alley deals to silence witnesses. I don’t need to.”
“Do you think that Lex Luthor is innocent?”
“That’s difficult to say. Lex Luthor has been declared innocent by courts in the past.[3] We live in a strange world. One where shapeshifters, clones, mind control, and interdimensional doppelgängers exist. In this world, where there are people out there capable of everything from impersonation to coercion on a molecular level, doesn’t everyone deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
“Doesn’t that apply to everyone, not just meta criminals?”
“Yes. Like I said, I think that meta human law is under examined and under argued. I think we clearly need to work with lawmakers and communities to update our system, for a variety of reasons.”
Kent pounced on that. “What other reasons would you mention?”
From there, half an hour passed quickly, as Kent pushed and prodded. His questions were good, his follow-ups sharp, and by the end of the interview, Kate felt like she had gone three rounds with Big Barda in the sparring ring.
“You should have been a lawyer, Mr. Kent. I would hate to go up against you in court.”
He nodded, smiling politely as he scribbled in his notebook.
“Can we speak off the record for a moment?”
He frowned but reached out and pressed the button again on the recorder.
“I need you to help me, Clark.” She looked at his smudged glasses. “Someone is trying to kill my client. And I need you to put me in touch with Superman.”
Clark admitted, there were a lot of things that Kate Spencer could have said that he would have expected more than that.
“Sorry?”
“That’s the real reason I agreed to this interview,” Kate said flatly. “You’re one of the city’s foremost experts on superheroes. I realize Supernova was more your circuit,[4] but honestly, if I’d asked your wife for an interview, Lex would have wanted to sit in, and then she would have punched him. And I’m trying to keep him safe.”
Clark frowned. “What are you saying, Ms. Spencer?”
“Mercy Graves has located and disabled multiple explosive devices in the various vehicles that Lex has been renting. I found one in my hotel room, but that might have been from a different case, or from another source. A lot of people aren’t pleased that I’ve taken his case.” She raised an eyebrow. “Including the editorial board of your own paper, I believe.”
Clark didn’t flutter an eyelash. “I can’t speak for the editorial board, ma’am.” Then he frowned. “Your hotel room? Is your son okay?”
She softened, for a moment, her eyes darting towards a framed photo of Ramsey on her desk. “Yes. Thank you for asking.” Then she pushed her hair behind her ear. “Honestly, Clark, I need Superman. Mercy Graves hasn’t slept in a week. She’s an Amazon, or whatever, but even she’s only one person. And I can’t build Luthor’s legal defense and investigate whoever is behind this and keep him safe.”
Clark looked at her. “You’re hoping I’ll investigate who’s targeting Luthor.”
“You are an investigative journalist,” she said innocently. “Someone trying to assassinate a former president before he takes the stand… especially when the DA’s office has been poking around, trying to find out if Luthor has any names for certain other, higher priority meta-criminals who he might want to consider naming in exchange for leniency…”
Clark started, despite himself. Oh, she was good. He hadn’t heard any of that. And she’d just given it to him. Off the record, but she knew perfectly well that he could take that and run with it until he found someone to say so on the record.
She folded her hands in front of her. “Help me contact Superman to keep him safe. I get an alive client and you get a story.”
“And if Superman’s busy?”
“Then he can tell me who isn’t that’s in this city. Most of my contacts are out in L.A. And while Wonder Woman owes me a favor,[5] I’d really rather not use it for this. Not when Superman has as much interest in making sure that Lex actually stands trial properly this time, without the charges being thrown out.”
“You think so?”
Kate looked shockingly serious. “I know so. A public court case shows the light of day on things. Even if he gets off—which, well, it’s me, the odds are decent—his crimes will be public knowledge. Truth, justice, and a better tomorrow, isn’t it?” She smiled. “Yes, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if people get the facts. Not just the wild speculation or whatever very impressive exposes you and your fellow reporters dig up.”
Clark whistled lowly. “You don’t think small, do you, Kate?”
“You know, I’ve got to say. That’s never really been a quality I’ve been accused of.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Clark said. “No guarantees, but…”
“I’ll take it,” Kate said. “Thank you. Now, we can go back on the record now if you want—”
Kate went to see Lex in his current hotel room. It was a penthouse in a five-star hotel that was owned by a shell company that was held by one of the few friends Lex had left.
Lex was doing his best to present the image to the world that he hadn’t fallen. That all of this was an inconvenience, and that the regular moves were for security purposes, rather than the truth.
Lex had been forced to sell almost all of his LexCorp stocks to pay for his previous trial. Civil Court damages, awarded to the families of Infinity Inc. members, had taken a chunk out of his personal holdings as well. And now that he had been completely forced out of LexCorp, he was no longer drawing any salary, or gaining additional stocks that he could liquidate for emergency cash or leverage for loans.
Lex’s personal holdings were shrinking rapidly. He’d tied up a great deal of his personal property in LexCorp for tax purposes, and it was coming back to bite him spectacularly, especially since the board had shut him out of corporate and offshore accounts.
Lex mostly was functioning off a trust from his father which paid out a modest sum annually—it was still significantly more than enough to set Lex up, should he be inclined to live like an ordinary wealthy person, rather than a billionaire. He was covertly selling family heirlooms and art pieces and calling in every favor he had ever accumulated in order to borrow penthouses and mansions. He’d leveraged three book deals for significant advances and taken a hefty loan at a horrific interest rate. All to make it seem to the world like he wasn’t bleeding money.
The hotel room was luxurious, full of plush carpets and rich wooden furniture. But it was antithetical to Lex’s style. The man preferred sleek lines and minimalism, simple colors and towering glass windows that showed off a city’s skyline.
This place was the kind of old money style that Lex had been trying to outrun ever since he began to step outside of his father’s shadow. It galled him to be here, flanked only by Mercy Graves, whose salary was financed by one of the book deals, sitting across from Kate Spencer, who had publicly agreed to do this case pro-bono.
It infuriated the man, and Kate knew it. The former president had been dropped like a hot potato by his previous law firm. The spectacular bad press had been nonstop ever since Infinity Inc. had revealed all of its flaws so publicly during the New Year's Massacre. He’d dodged charges for that one, but the bad press hadn’t stopped. Kent and Lane’s reporting on the law firm, brought on by the Luthor case, had gotten two of his lawyers disbarred. Lane’s single-handed expose of his finances, revealing just how far in the red the man was, had scared away multiple other prominent law firms. Luthor had been represented by a variety of lawyers best known for their television ads for a week or so, before Kate had stepped in.
She was the best lawyer he was going to get without bankrupting himself the rest of the way, and he knew it. But accepting her help was a public admission that he was too broke to retain someone else.
He also just hated her. The man was a raging misogynist, despite the fact that he employed an Amazon, and the fact that she was playing by the rules drove him completely mad. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand her.
But she was fighting for him.
And he needed her.
“And how was the dear Mr. Lane?” Luthor sniffed, sipping bourbon that cost more than Kate’s first apartment. He didn’t offer her a glass. He hadn’t offered Mercy one either, but Mercy probably wouldn’t want to be inebriated while on the job. Kate would take offense if she hadn’t already settled into the easy pattern of hating him.
The man was further in debt than the collective student body of Kate’s graduating class, and he still was drinking top shelf bourbon. Billionaires, or former billionaires, were a different species.
“He agreed to investigate the assassination attempts. I passed along your suspicions that it’s the Calculator, as well Mercy’s security writeup.” She paused, then set her bombshell on the table. “And he agreed to put me in contact with Superman to step up your security.”
Lex froze, his glass halfway to his mouth.
Mercy, who had already discussed this with Kate and agreed with her completely, kept her face perfectly still.
“You what?”
“I’ll be meeting with Superman at 10 PM tonight,” Kate said. “We’ll discuss how to keep you safe. If he can’t arrange to have the time himself, with all of his other commitments, then hopefully we can arrange for Superwoman or the Matrix to step in. Maybe Supergirl or Power Girl, but I understand that Power Girl has mostly been sighted away from Metropolis these days, so I feel like she’ll be too busy.”[6]
“I don’t need protection from them!” Lex roared. He was on his feet, shouting in her face.
Kate kept her gaze steady. She had faced down supervillains in the courtroom and on the battlefield. She had killed some of them. She had lobotomized Dr. Psycho. Lex Luthor couldn’t intimidate her.
“You do, actually. We know a large organization is attempting to kill you. We don’t know who they are or what resources they have to bear. But what we do know is that Mercy can’t do this alone, and you can’t afford to hire more help of a high enough caliber to keep up with her. Especially since Godkillers Security won’t take your calls. So yes. We need help. And we’re in his city—”
“My city!” Lex shouted. His face was an impressive shade of red.
Kate stared at him, unimpressed. “He has a vested interest in keeping you alive. And so you are going to suck it up, not touch your stash of Kryptonite, and keep your head down. And if I find a single hint that you have contacted these people who are trying to kill you, I walk.”
Lex’s lip curled. “You—”
“I’ve been fielding calls from the First Bank of Gotham all day. They want to know when they’re going to see that first interest payment.” She leaned forward. “You can’t go back to normal until this trial is over, Lex.”
“If you can get the charges dismissed—”
“The trial starts next week. Charges aren’t going to be dropped. This goes one of two ways. Either you accept Superman’s help and stand trial, and then you and I fight tooth and nail to keep you out of prison… or you don’t accept Superman’s help, and you can be buried in a pauper’s grave with your pride intact.”
Oh yes. He hated her.
But he was going to do what she said.
Manhunter was waiting for him on the rooftop. Calm and confident in her red and silver costume, she stood, leaning on her staff slightly.
“Thank you for coming.”
“You’re wearing your costume.”
Her grin was slightly ragged around the edges. “I figure if Diana knew, you at least suspected.”
He coughed. “Well, it might have come up.”
“If you didn’t know beforehand, Batman probably briefed you the moment I took the case,”[7] she waved her hand. “I know he doesn’t like me.”
That was an understatement, Bruce couldn’t stand her.
“But that’s not why we’re here,” he said. “What’s happening? Kent said you needed my help keeping Luthor alive for the trial.”
“Yes,” she said. She sighed. “Flat out, a lot of Luthor’s old allies have an invested interest in making sure he doesn’t stand trial. You know about my most infamous case?”
“Doctor Psycho.”
“The Secret Society disabled his psychic dampeners right before the jury delivered their verdict. He went on a rampage.”
“And then you lobotomized him.”
“I’m not proud of that,” she said. She was lying. But he didn’t call her out on it. It seemed rude. “But I was trying to keep myself and a room full of victims alive. And him, for that matter.” She shook her head. “But I expect that something similar might happen. They’ll try to goad him into doing something stupid if they can’t kill him directly.”
“Why?” Clark asked, honestly. “Luthor’s not like Dr. Psycho, he’s patient enough to play the long game. Most people think he’s on a short list of pardons as soon as Horne doesn’t have to deal with election blowback.”
“The really stupid ones are scared that Waller will get him for the Suicide Squad.[8] Even though, according to the DEO, Waller is refusing to touch that with a fifty-yard pole. Other people are scared at what deal he’ll cut the moment that he realizes that he’s not getting off this time. He’s not biting yet. He still thinks he can skate. But I’ve already had several temperature checks from the federal, state, and local level, wanting to know if he’s ready yet.” She made an aborted motion that Clark recognized as reaching for a cigarette. He could see the nicotine patch on her bicep through the cloth of her suit. “Luthor’s got dirt on every single villain society that’s ever lived, as well as organized crime, dark military operations, and heads of state all over the world. He could sink half of the current generals’ careers if he played his cards right.”
Clark nodded, slowly. “Is that why you took his case?”
“I took his case because someone needed to. He deserves to be represented, same as anyone. The other people lining up to take this job were either dirty or would be dead within the week.” She rolled her neck. “He definitely did the things he’s accused of—probably more than anyone will ever know. But my job is to make sure that he gets due process. And stays alive for the duration.”
“Alright,” Clark said. “Where do we start?”
She grinned at him. “I gave Kent the leads I had. Mercy Graves is pretty sure that the bombs are from the Metropolis Family. I’ve got Oracle running deep background checks and financials on the jury pool, and the Birds of Prey have agreed to bodyguard the families when they’re selected. I mostly just need you to keep an eye out for the big physical threats. Guys on the roofs aiming rocket launchers at the limo, that sort of thing.”
“I think I can manage that.”
Spencer smiled at him. “Glad to hear it. That means I can probably actually get some sleep tonight. And maybe see my son sooner rather than later.”
“Is someone watching your son?” He asked. “If they’re going after the juries—”
She laughed. “Oh, he’s with his great-grandparents.[9] And he’s got his dog. He’ll be fine.”
And with that, she went inside.
Metropolis was his city.
He had been making his mark upon it for years now. It was in his image that it had been reborn into what it was now. The City of Tomorrow. Bustling with technology and good jobs, high skyscrapers and carefully tended streets. Metropolis was the envy of the world. It was clean, it was wealthy, it was the center for the brightest minds in the world to gather.
He had done this. He had elevated this city from one of dozens of metropolitan areas in the United States, to making it the greatest city in the world. The most populous city in the United States, with a booming economy and standards of living higher than anyone would have dreamed of in his father’s day.[10]
He had done it long before Superman had arrived on the scene.
And the ungrateful masses had forgotten that the moment that the alien had arrived. Hypnotized by those natural gifts of a world far away, forgetting the hard work and scientific advancements that had made their lives possible.
And now they had turned on him altogether.
Protestors lined the street as the car drove him towards the courthouse, as they had every other day that he had made this tedious slog to the courthouse. They carried signs, decrying him for all sorts of things. The deaths of those idiots who had submitted themselves to his enhancements; the difficult choices he had made during his presidency; every single thing that had happened during the Crisis.
They laid all of their troubles at his feet, and they called for his blood while they did so.
Spencer didn’t even seem remotely perturbed by this—Los Angeles must have inured her to the screams of the rabble. She sat across from him in her pantsuit, with not so much as a flicker of an eye in the direction of the people who were demanding her blood for daring to defend him. For free, no less.
Mercy was driving. Only the briefest glimpse of her hands revealed the tension she was carrying—they were bone white.
“Day five,” Spencer said. “Today we’re starting with witnesses who will be able to vouch for the existence of your clones, your proximity to mind-controlling individuals, and interdimensional doppelgängers. We’re trying to create reasonable doubt here. Your job today is to sit there and look like a respectable former president. Don’t smirk, don’t laugh, don’t make eye contact with John Irons when he’s on the stand. The charges in the Everyman case were dismissed. We don’t want the jury to even think about that. Because you went on a very public campaign during that to prove you were yourself and you were in your right mind.”
“Is calling Irons strictly necessary?”
“Yes. He’s the one who publicly verified the identity of the man who was responsible for the actions of one Lex Luthor during the Crisis. That was your choice. He’s a trustworthy scientist with a sterling reputation. And he’s going to say, on the stand, that he has personally witnessed you having a doppelgänger.”
Lex sighed, slightly melodramatically, and adjusted his tie.
“Don’t act flippant,” she said sharply. “The charges are serious. The prosecution has publicly stated they want to ask for the death penalty.”
“It’s a bluff,” Lex shrugged. “They want me scared, so I’ll clamor to take whatever deal they offer.”
She shook her head. “Lex. I have to stress this. If we cannot convince the jury that there is reasonable doubt that it was you, of sound mind and body, using that technology? It would be very easy for you to go down on terrorism charges.”
Lex scoffed. “The jury would never go for that.”
Her lips thinned. Spencer was good. She took things seriously. That was her job. But he knew this city. He knew that no judge would ever actually sentence him that harshly. And he knew that after he identified the jurors, he could give a list to Mercy and figure out how he had shaped their lives… and remind them of that.[11]
Clark had watched, fascinated, as Kate went through her job for the past few days.
He’d seen her in action before—he’d been on the witness stand himself.
But she was running through the paces perfectly. She was pointing out, without explicitly saying it, that they lived in a strange world.
As the days of the trial wore on, she continued her work. She called Kon to the stand,[12] the director of Cadmus, and Pete Ross, Lex’s former vice-president, and asked them very reasonable questions about the things they’d seen over the years.
She had multiverse experts discuss their theories of the multiverse, showed diagrams and photographic evidence of the multiple known instances of Lex’s clones, and provided a list of mind control capable supervillains and individuals that were within the city limits of Metropolis during the attack.
Could they prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that Lex had been the person who had done those things? Or that he had been in control when it happened?
The portrait she was painting was one of reasonable doubt. And she was doing her job very well.
And then John took the stand.
John looked uncomfortable there. Natasha was in the crowd, watching, holding Traci’s hand.
He was an expert witness. But he was also one of Lex’s victims.
It all started well enough. She did her job. John kept his cool.
And then Mayson Drake began her cross-examination.
Mayson was the new District Attorney for Metropolis. She had won the job after public outcry at her predecessor letting Lex loose, only to cause massive destruction weeks later.
Elegant in her charcoal suit, at 5’8, she was nearly a foot shorter than John, six inches shorter than Lex, and three inches shorter than Kate. But she held her own.
“Tell me, Dr. Irons,” she said, her voice perfectly calm. “After you publicly identified the duplicate Luthor… what happened next?”
Nate went still, and then glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the judge.
“That day I was infected. With something what genetic testing would later discover was an early form of the Everyman Genetic Modifying Tool.”
“And it gave you the ability to turn into the metal that is your superheroic namesake, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“Objection!” Kate said, leaning forward. “This has nothing to do with this current case.”
“It is important for establishing that Lex Luthor, after having just “proven” that he had been replaced by one such anomaly, immediately proceeded to begin unethical scientific experiments, which brings into question the entirety of the Everyman Project—”
The judge’s gavel hit the stand. “Quiet! We are not ruling on that case. The jury is to ignore all of this.”
Clark turned his attention to the jury.
Mayson had them. They were staring at Lex in horror, in concern.
“Fine,” Mayson said. She turned back to John. “So tell me, Dr. Irons. How many other people do you know have committed crimes on such a large scale that have later turned out to have been perpetrated by clones, or interdimensional counterparts, or were actually under the effects of mind control? Let alone… Ms. Spencer, how many times has your client been charged with federal offenses?”
“Objection!”
“Sustained!” The judge glowered at Mayson. “Ms. Drake—”
“My apologies, your honor. We have no more questions for Dr. Irons.”
Clark watched Lex look at the jury.
And he watched Lex start to worry, for the first time since he had first strode into this courtroom, as sure of himself as he had ever been.
And then he heard the crackle of a radio.
“He’s breaking. Take the shot.”
Kate was preparing to ask the judge for a recess when the glass broke.
Screams filled the room, and instinct took over. She grabbed Lex and threw him to the ground, trying to get him out of the way of the shattering glass.
Smoke filled the air, and she reached for her briefcase, pressing her finger against the combination which would open the false bottom and allow her to access her costume and staff.
“Superman!” Someone screamed, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Superman stood there, a bent and broken rifle in one hand, a bullet gleaming in the other.
“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t stop the glass breaking and stop the assassin from getting away.”
“We appreciate it, Superman,” Kate said. “Your honor, permission to evacuate my client to a secure location?”
“Granted,” the judge said, from the side of his podium where he had taken cover.
She got Lex to his feet and started to herd him out the door.
Once they were back in the secure vehicle, being driven by Mercy, he grabbed her sleeve.
“What are they offering?” He asked.
“Lex, you don’t—”
“I’ll take the light sentence in a well secured minimum security federal prison over what that damned Drake woman has planned. I saw that jury; I saw what she’s going to do.”
“There’s no guarantees. A plea deal ends everything.”
“I know,” he laughed, bitterly. “But don’t you understand? They turned on me. I made them. I made all of them. And they turned on me to worship that alien.”
The vitriol was so thick that it almost took her by surprise. Almost.
But she had gone into this with a full awareness of the man she was defending. A genius with no morals, who had turned to flat out villainy because his ego couldn’t stand being challenged by Superman. A man who viewed human lives as nothing more than chess pieces on the board of his city. Someone so wealthy, so powerful, that he had never faced an honest consequence in his life, and was now realizing that he would have to, and so he was trying to minimize the damage by using whatever leverage he could get.
“I’ll get them on the line,” she said, rather than saying any of the things that she was thinking.
FORMER PRESIDENT LEX LUTHOR PLEADS GUILTY
The headline was satisfying, Clark had to admit.
The rest of it was less satisfying. The charges that had been settled upon were lesser, and the sentence was light. But Lex was, according to every person that Clark knew in the Justice Department, the DEO, and every other federal agency, singing like a canary. He was naming so many names that new task forces were springing up by the dozen to tackle them.
“He’ll be back,” he told Kate Spencer. They were on the roof of her building once again, both in costume.
“Of course he will be,” she said. “They always are.” But she grinned. “But he had a clean, honest trial. For the first time ever. No one was bribed, no one died, and no one was blackmailed.” She sighed a happy sound of relief. “It wasn’t perfect. But justice was honestly served today.”
Clark blinked. “You’re a lot more of an idealist than I was led to believe.”
“Lies and slander, I’m a horrible cynic.” But her smile was genuine.
“I’m guessing you’re not sticking around?”
“You’d be guessing correctly. I’ve got a lawsuit lined up against a man who was peddling “cures” for active meta-gene whose treatment killed fifteen teenagers in Central.”
He chuckled and stuck out his hand. “It was a pleasure working with you, Manhunter.”
“Always good to see you in action, Superman.”
She shook his hand, and then, matter-of-factly, opened the door behind her and walked into Kate Spencer’s hotel room.
“Great exit,” he said.
“Not much point in making a dramatic one when you can see where I go next!”