hackthis_archive | Lots and lots of crack was smoked for this story.

First of all, today is

tigress35’s birthday. Happy Birthday, baby girl! Many happy returns of the day, I hope you get everything you want, naked men included!

Secondly, this is kinda sorta written for you (if it's your thing), but also for

bonibaru and

lalejandra and when Marshall’s involved I have to think of

ethrosdemon. Did I mention that this is straight up crack!fic?

Inspired by this conversation, I present the mother of all crossovers:

SV/RPS/HP/LOTRips, or
Lex Luthor/Eminem/Draco Malfoy/Viggo Mortensen and *Guests* in:
Welcome to the Dark Side

“A wizard, a rap star and a multi-billionaire with political aspirations and questionable ethics walk into a bar. Excuse me, a pub.” Lex paused in the doorway behind Draco and Marshall and took in the empty pub with a shake of his head.

“Do you think you could’ve picked a more unseemly place?” he said, ignoring the glare Draco shot at him as they made their way through the darkly-lit pub to the back.

They stopped at the booth with the best vantage point of the room. There was always only one booth that had that sort of angle, not that Lex had ever spent a lot of time in booths, even in college he’d spent more time in the backrooms, but he’d read enough Dickens to know his pubs. “It sounds like a bad joke,” he said, motioning for Marshall to slide in ahead of him. Lex had issues with being trapped anywhere. Even in a booth.

“And you’d know all about the joke thing, LL, no doubt.” Marshall let Lex’s withering look roll right off his extremely blonde hair as he slid into the booth. “I mean, you let your cornbread-ex piss all over your town in some fucked up spandex and then you make nice for him for the press. Dude, that’s fucked up. I mean, I know Kim and I make nice for Hallie, but once she turns 18 that shit is over.”

“The future president of the United States can’t dwell on past relationships,” Lex said slipping in beside Marshall.

Marshall waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, dog, I know you still got your hate on. You ain’t foolin’ nobody.”

Lex frowned, but his words were drowned out by Draco speaking up. “How many times do you I have to remind you that one portkey to another dimension could solve all your problems?”

“You talkin’ to me or him?” Marshall asked, slouching against the unyielding wooden back of the booth. “Cos you sure as hell ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t already know, dog.”

“I was simply pointing out that this problem doesn’t really have to be a problem,” Draco said.

Marshall sneered. “You know how many times I’ve about AK’d her ass? But I can’t do that. Baby mama drama and all that. Plus, you know, her house got all these Muggles runnin’ around in it. I know one of them greedy motherfuckers is working for the Ministry or Pops or omething.”

“Pops?” Draco’s eyebrow climbed into his hairline. “Need I remind you that you do nothing but fraternize with Muggles, or corrupt their children, which is laudable -- but you wonder why our father continually tries to have you Erased?”

“Man, he can suck my dick.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Marshall cut him off. “Don’t even go there, cos you know, that’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t play that bend-over-and-think-of-England bullshit like some people I know.”

Lex pointedly ignored the look that Marshall sent his way, choosing instead to keep his eyes on the entrance to the pub and the scruffy bartender who was making no designs to attend to his patrons. In fact, from the way his head was resting on his chest, he might’ve been asleep. Lex hated lax service in the food industry.

“Still attempting to oversell your heterosexuality, I see.” Draco made an obvious motion to Lex, “And yet, look at the company you keep.”

“You can keep my sexuality out of any discussion you’re having,” Lex said. “But what you can do is tell me if we’re ever going to get served or is this a do-it-yourself operation?”

“Man, don’t be gettin' your shit all in a twist, my boy’s gonna hook shit up.” Marshall’s voice managed to project halfway across the pub without him so much as sitting up properly. “Viggo! Dog, what the fuck we gotta do to get some drinks in here?!”

The bartender’s head lifted up from whatever contemplation he’d been enjoying, and Lex’s eyebrow lifted fractionally at the husky nature of his voice. “Patience is a virtue, Marshall,” Viggo said, running his fingers through his hair. “I see you’re still lacking.”

“You won’t be lacking my foot up your kingly ass in a minute. Can we get some fucking service or what?”

Viggo shook his head and stepped into a small patch of light. “Keep it in your pants,” he said pulling several glasses from behind the bar and uncapping a few bottles. “I’m working on some lyrics right now.”

Lex’s head throbbed with the force of Marshall’s voice in his ear. “When the fuck are you gonna sign with my label? You need to stop fucking around with that indie shit and get on a real record label.”

Viggo stepped from around the bar with his arms laden down with glasses and bottles. “I’ll get a real record label when you change the name to something besides Shady Records. Why the hell would anybody with any sense sign to something that announces from the start that it’s ‘shady’?” he pointed out as he crossed the empty room and deposited the glasses and bottles on the sticky booth table. “Not that the irony isn’t amusing, but it is still an industry.”

Marshall pushed himself into a sitting position beside Lex, taking up more room than he had previously. “I know you’re not insulting my shit,” he demanded as Viggo slid a large bottle of Hennessy across the table into his waiting grasp.

Lex couldn’t help but notice the small twitch at the corners of Viggo’s mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a very even tone.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Marshall said, nodding his head decisively. He seemed to pointedly ignore the tolerant look Viggo sent his way. “Man, go back to your finger-painting and shit, nobody’s looking for your back-pocket philosophical bullshit here.”

Viggo’s laugh made Lex give him a much closer look. Upon consideration, Lex noticed Viggo’s dark hair was matted with green paint, and he had spatters of white and blue on his shirt.

When Viggo uncorked a small bottle of brandy and set a snifter in front of Lex, he blinked. “How’d you know?” Lex asked.

Viggo opened his mouth to reply, but Marshall cut him off. “It’s his business to know this shit, right?”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Lex retorted.

“Whatever, dog,” Marshall said dismissively. He looked back up at Viggo pointedly. “Ain’t you got someplace else to be?”

Lex frowned as Viggo smirked before walking off.

“I told you about hitting on my friends,” Marshall complained. “Ain’t gonna be no straight people left at this rate.”

Lex bristled. “Am I infringing on your territory, Marshall? Did you urinate on the wall the last time you were here?”

Marshall snorted. “You may be bald, LL, but unless you got some Crisco in your back pocket, you just ain’t slick. Give it up.”

Lex narrowed his eyes – he’d had people killed for much less. Clearly Marshall caught the murderous look in his eyes, because he turned towards Draco immediately.

“So, what the fuck is your problem?”

Draco uncapped the bottle of butterbeer Viggo had brought over and poured himself a liberal amount. “Is this a rhetorical question?”

“Please. I know you got problems, baby brother, you a Malfoy, ain’t you? You still trying to do that magic shit with whassisname?”

“The Dark Lord,” Draco interjected. “And yes.”

“I told you that wasn’t gonna go nowhere.”

“You’ll change your tune when we rule the world.”

“Man, you are just as fucked up as Pops. That’s why y’all are gonna get wiped out, just like those wackos in Waco.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Nevermind,” Marshall waved his hand dismissively before taking a swig straight from the bottle of Hennessy. “Where’s this dude that you’re trying to Avada Kedavra?”

Draco’s wand appeared out of nowhere, and Lex’s eyes narrowed as the blunt tip of wand was pointed between his eyes. “Avad –“

Marshall nearly exploded out of the booth. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted, reaching out and pushing the wand away from Lex.

“You can’t tell Muggles about the Unforgivable Curses!” Draco retorted, attempting to yank the wand out of Marshall’s hand. The table shook and rocked precariously as Draco and Marshall struggled for control of the tiny stick of wood, and Lex prudently slipped out of the booth with brandy glass still in hand.

“You can’t just fucking kill people like that!” Marshall shouted as he landed a solid punch on Draco’s jaw, and Lex watched in semi-amusement as the fraternal tussle tumbled out of the booth and onto the floor of the pub.

“I can’t believe you’ve become such a Muggle lover!” Draco’s voice was shrill as he kicked at his brother, and Marshall let out a grunt of pain when Draco's foot connected with his shin. Neither one seemed to notice when they lost the wand, and sensing a good opportunity, Lex bent down and picked it up. He tapped it against the table several times attempting to get the hang of whatever Draco had intended to do to him. Clearly he wasn’t stressing the right syllables at the right time.

Was it ‘Aveda’ like the products company? Or A-va-duh like the name of a car company? Perhaps it was ‘Abracadabra’ like that 80’s pop song.

Lex held the wand firmly and flicked his wrist repeatedly, trying to recall exactly what the curse was called, but over the din and shouting, neither Draco nor Marshall nor Lex heard the door of the pub open up. They only took notice when there was a flash of green light -- and it was then that the commotion stopped and the shouting started.

“What the fuck just happened?” Marshall looked up from the floor, where both he and Draco were sprawled out in confusion. “LL, tell me you didn’t AK somebody? Tell me you didn’t just fucking kill somebody!”

Lex looked from the wand in his hand to the light streaming in from the open front door. “I - that is –“

“I thought he was a Muggle!” Draco said scrambling to his feet and snatching his wand out of Lex’s grasp.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Viggo emerged from the backroom with even more paint in his hair and on his clothes. He took in the sight before him with a frown. Lex followed the sweep of his eyes until they both reached the front door and the corpse that Lex had missed the first time around.

“Why is there a body across my front door?” Viggo’s voice was deceptively calm, but Lex wasn’t fooled. He downed the rest of his brandy in a hurry and glanced around looking for the back door, and for the first time, in perhaps ever, neither Marshall or Draco were able to think of anything to say.

Viggo crossed that pub quickly and dragged the corpse over the threshold so the door could close properly. “How many times have I told you not to kill people in my pub?!” he demanded.

“It wasn’t like that,” Marshall began. “Maybe he’s just knocked out?”

“And maybe you’ll go brunette. Get over here and help me get rid of this.” Viggo dragged the corpse across the floor by its hair. Its very dark hair. Lex swallowed dryly. The corpse was rather long and well built. He seemed quite tan and – it was ridiculous. There was no way Superman would walk into a pub. That wasn’t how the joke went.

Except that when the rolled the corpse over –

“You killed Harry Potter.” Draco was dumfounded.

“You killed one of my regulars,” Viggo lamented.

“Right, because this place is just cracklin’ anyway,” Marshall sniped before degenerating into laughter. “Man, people been trying to kill this fool for ages. Lex, people are gonna be saying Superwho? for the rest of your life.”

Viggo shook his head and made rolling motions with his hands. “You cost me money from a customer,” he said, pointing at Lex, “and I don’t like that, but I like the dead thing even less. I don’t care who he is, just get him out of my pub.”

Draco seemed unable to move, and Lex actually fumbled when he reached for his mobile phone. He’d just flipped open the lid when it rang in his hand.

“Do not fucking answer that,” Marshall said. “You remember what happened that last time you answered that phone when you should’ve been doing something else?”

But Lex’s fingers pressed ‘talk’ of their own accord. He cleared his throat again. “Lex Luthor.”

The voice on the other end of the line was muffled by static and it reminded Lex vaguely of a strangled cat. “Mr Luthor, it’s come to my attention that you’ve just done me a great service.”

Lex’s brain began whirring. “Which service would that be?”

“A disposal of a certain problem I was having.”

Lex’s inner businessman immediately emerged. “I see.”

“I don’t really think you do, but that’s of no matter right now. What does matter is that I’m interested in procuring your services for a project I’m working on.”

Lex covered the mouthpiece and motioned for Marshall, Draco and Viggo to go back to Corpse Disposal. ‘Business’ he mouthed dismissively.

“My services do not come cheap,” Lex said turning away and walking back towards the booth in the corner.

“No good services do,” the voice said.

Lex smiled despite himself. “Of course, now you know my name and how to find me, but I don’t know yours. What should I call you?”

There was a pause on the phone line. “My followers call me Sir, but you can call me Tom.”

-end-

Betas, love, adoration and sacrifical goats for and by

ethrosdemon and

serialkarma. You two so rock.