Thorne turned and left the laboratory.
The heavy electronic door closed again. The smile vanished from Luthor's face in an instant, replaced by utter coldness.
The head of security stepped forward from the shadows and bowed his head slightly.
"Boss, the type B neurodependency compound has been fully purified. Are we really adding it to the mass-produced medication? If Dr. Thorne finds out..."
"He's a bookworm lost in his dream of being a 'savior.'" Luthor's gaze was ice-cold.
"He only wants to eliminate suffering, but he doesn't understand that the price of eliminating suffering is losing the will to resist. With the type B compound added, even a single inhalation will make their central nervous systems develop an absolute physiological dependence on this 'bliss.'"
Luthor looked at the warehouse full of blue medication, a cruel smile curling his lips.
"Do it. I want the people of Gotham on their knees, begging me for their medicine without even realizing what happened."
One day later, on the top floor of Wayne Tower.
"This bow tie is as tight as a noose. I seriously suspect it's the same model the Falcone Family uses to strangle traitors."
Leaning on a black aluminum-alloy cane, Jack Napier stood in a corner of the top-floor banquet hall at the Gotham Royal Hotel and tugged awkwardly at his burgundy bow tie.
"Relax, Jack."
The human resources director beside him patted his shoulder, smiling over a glass of champagne.
"Master Bruce personally approved the budget for this welcome reception. As our newly hired senior technical consultant, you represent the chemical division of Wayne Enterprises. Stand tall. Don't look like some homeless man who just crawled out of an East End sewer."
Jack gave a wry smile and looked down at his well-tailored black suit, made from expensive fabric.