Orion Oak leans on his sturdy cane as the sleek black sedan pulls up to the festival grounds. The polished vehicle gleams under the afternoon sun, its tinted windows reflecting the colorful tents and bustling crowds. Something about the way it arrives—too precise, too deliberate—makes his spine tighten with anticipation.
A group of Skitty and Pachirisu, who had been chasing each other through the grass near the fountain, immediately flatten their ears. Their cheerful chirps die in an instant, replaced by wary hushed sounds. They edge backward through the blades, tails drooping, eyes wide with uncertainty. Even the Popplio splashing in the fountain fall silent, their playful water rings ceasing as they turn toward the newcomer with cautious curiosity.
Lex Luthor steps out of the car, his smile spreading across his face a fraction too late to seem genuine. Those green eyes—sharp as scalpels—sweep across the festival crowd with the practiced assessment of a man taking inventory rather than greeting friends. He isn't acknowledging the families or the children waving excitedly; he's cataloging assets, threats, and opportunities.
Orion feels that careful appraisal like a physical pressure against his skin, a chill that prickles despite the warm afternoon air. He keeps his own smile firmly in place—a practiced customer service grin, warm and welcoming, plastered on his face like armor.
Luthor's gaze flicks toward a cluster of children happily playing with a Popplio near the fountain. Something crosses his features then—fleeting but unmistakable. Concern? Genuine concern, which Orion knows from their previous encounters is rarer than a shiny Pokémon. The expression vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar calculating mask.
Orion catches Luthor's eyes with his own, then deliberately shifts his gaze to meet Latias's. The Eon Pokémon hovers subtly near the main stage's support beams, her crimson form nearly invisible against the sky. A quick, almost imperceptible nod passes between them—a silent signal, a choreography of documentation that Luthor, with his famously sharp senses, cannot possibly miss.
His fingers move across the illuminated screen of his tablet, tracing the words of the festival charter's "community stakeholder consultation" clause. Every motion is deliberate, every pause calculated to ensure Luthor sees the specific legal text displayed there.
Luthor's eyes follow Orion's finger, the understated implication settling in the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Orion begins walking through the festival grounds, each step measured and deliberate. This is no casual stroll; it's a performance of official procedure, quiet confidence radiating from him as he puts himself clearly in charge of whatever interaction comes next.
His eyes flick toward Marcus Bellwether, the local council representative standing near the craft stalls. The man's collar is being adjusted with that particular nervous energy Orion has come to recognize. With just that look, Marcus understands and drifts closer, joining their small group as naturally as if he'd been invited all along.
Orion gestures with casual ease toward the prominent Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries branding visible on various vendor tents and banners lining their path. His movements are relaxed but pointed, drawing attention to the established corporate presence without seeming to try.
"Mr. Oak," Luthor says, his voice smooth as polished marble. "What an... unexpected gathering."
Orion doesn't look away from the banners. "Central Park belongs to everyone, Mr. Luthor. We simply asked to use it."
"Of course, of course." Luthor's smile widens. "And what exactly are you using it for? Some kind of... civic experiment?"
"The festival charter," Orion replies, tapping his tablet. "Specifically subsection seven: community stakeholder consultation. Which, as you can see, includes quite a few stakeholders."
Luthor's gaze lingers on the Wayne Enterprises logo. "Bruce Wayne's involvement. How very... convenient."
Orion's chuckle is light, almost musical. "Convenient? Or perhaps inevitable. You know how he gets when there's a chance to help people. Rather like a Growlithe with a particularly interesting scent—he follows it wherever it leads."
"And Stark Industries?"
"Tony has his own reasons for wanting to understand these creatures." Orion finally turns to face Luthor fully, his blue eyes steady. "Something about proving human ingenuity can keep pace with divine intervention."
Luthor's laugh rings out, sharp and bright. "Human ingenuity versus divine intervention. I like that. Rather poetic."
"Poetry has its uses." Orion's smile doesn't waver. "Though I prefer the practical application. Like ensuring proper permits are filed, safety protocols observed, and community input valued."
Marcus clears his throat, stepping forward. "The Parks Department has been very thorough about compliance, Mr. Luthor. Every tent, every habitat, every interaction has been reviewed by multiple oversight committees."
"How very diligent." Luthor's attention shifts to the children again, his expression unreadable. "And what happens when these... Pokémon decide they don't want to be part of our little community project?"
Orion feels Latias's presence strengthen beside him, a comforting warmth that no one else would notice. "Pokémon choose their partners, Mr. Luthor. They always have. We simply provide the space for that choice to happen."
"Space," Luthor repeats. "Yes, space is very important. Especially when you're dealing with forces beyond human comprehension."
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Orion watches Luthor's eyes wander toward the holographic displays showing basic Pokémon biology and care information.
"You seem troubled by something," Orion observes.
Luthor's smile turns genuinely thoughtful. "Concerned, perhaps. About the precedent you're setting. About the precedent others might set, following your example."
"Others?"
"Well, let's be honest, Mr. Oak. You've made quite the splash. Wayne Enterprises, Stark Industries, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers..." Luthor spreads his hands. "Who's to stop the less scrupulous from deciding they want their own piece of this particular pie?"
Orion's fingers tighten slightly around his cane. "That's what the consultation clause is for. Community oversight, legal protections, ethical guidelines. All very boring, very human things."
"Boring, yes. Necessary, perhaps. Sufficient?" Luthor's gaze is direct now, probing. "Tell me, what safeguards do you have against someone with... fewer scruples than our mutual friends?"
Before Orion can answer, a commotion erupts near the craft stalls. A young trainer—couldn't be more than twelve—has somehow gotten his arm trapped in a vendor tent's decorative banner display. His Shinx is frantically trying to free him, sparks flying harmlessly but adding to the chaos.
Luthor's eyes narrow. "And what happens when accidents occur? When these creatures cause harm?"
Orion watches the scene unfold, feeling Latias stir with protective energy beside him. "Then we learn," he says quietly. "Just like we always have."
The boy's arm is freed moments later by an older trainer with quick reflexes and a gentle touch. The Shinx immediately curls around his partner's wrist, both of them unharmed but shaken.
Luthor watches this exchange with clear skepticism. "Learning through trial and error. How very... organic of you."
"Organic," Orion agrees, "has its advantages over artificial. Though I suppose that's a perspective you'd understand better than most."
Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Commissioner Gordon himself, accompanied by several other city officials. Gordon's expression suggests he's been having similar conversations with Luthor throughout the morning.
"Mr. Luthor," Gordon says, his voice carrying the weight of official authority. "We were just reviewing the emergency protocols."
"Of course, Commissioner." Luthor's smile is all politeness now. "Safety first, always."
Orion watches this exchange with the satisfaction of a man who has prepared for exactly this moment. The tablet in his hand contains not just the festival charter but detailed documentation of every interaction, every safety check, every moment of Luthor's careful observation.
"Community stakeholder consultation," Orion murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "Rather like a Confuse Ray—sometimes the best defense is making sure everyone can see clearly."
Latias's telepathic hum of agreement brushes against his mind. Together, they watch Luthor's entourage move through the festival, taking in the carefully orchestrated chaos of humans and Pokémon learning to coexist.
Whatever game Luthor thinks he's playing, Orion knows one thing for certain: they're not playing by the same rules.
***
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