Lex opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him wasn't white. It was plaster—yellowed and cracked, with the faint sound of Brooklyn traffic humming outside the window.
Lex's heart slammed against his ribs as he bolted upright, gasping for air.
The weight of the bullet was gone. The blood, the penthouse—all of it was gone.
His hands were clean. His clothes were different.
Lex swung his legs off the bed, feet hitting the warped wooden floorboards of a room he hadn't seen in over fifteen years.
A calendar hung crookedly by the door.
August, 2007.
Lex's eyes narrowed.
"What the—"
Before he could finish, his phone buzzed faintly on the nightstand beside him.
Lex stared at it, hesitation creeping in as the screen lit up.
"Barnie – Missed Call."
Lex's grip tightened around the phone, pulse pounding in his ears.
He wasn't dead.
He was back.
Lex dragged his hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temple as the weight of it settled in. The room felt smaller now—too quiet, too still.
The faint hum of an air conditioner rattled from the window, struggling against the August heat. Outside, the street below bustled with life. Taxis blared their horns, and vendors shouted across the sidewalk. New York hadn't changed, not yet.
But Lex had.
He crossed the room to the dresser, yanking open the top drawer. A handful of old clothes sat inside—loose t-shirts and worn jeans from a version of himself that no longer existed. Lex stared at them, lips pressing into a thin line.
This was before everything.
Before the collapse. Before the betrayals. Before Barnie slit his world apart thread by thread.
His fingers brushed over a folded piece of paper tucked in the back of the drawer. Lex pulled it free, unfolding it carefully.
Maddux Holdings Internship Approval – Fall 2007.
Lex's eyes lingered on the signature at the bottom. Barnie Maddux.
A cold smirk tugged at his lips.
Still pulling the strings even then.
The phone buzzed again—twice. Texts this time.
Barnie: "Meeting at 9. Don't be late."
Barnie: "Bring your portfolio."
Lex's thumb hovered over the reply button before snapping the phone shut.
He tossed it onto the bed and moved to the window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to peer down at the street below.
It was all still there—the deli on the corner, the graffiti-covered newsstand, the same cracked asphalt.
The pieces were moving, but this time Lex held the board.
You always said power wasn't something you walked away from, Barnie.
Lex's reflection in the glass stared back at him, eyes sharper, colder.
Let's see what happens when I take it all from you first.