Title: Infected
Rating: T
Author: SilverSnikle
Character: Clark
Timeline: Clark Luthor's Seventeenth Birthday
Warnings: Luthor-verse
Disclaimer: Borrowed characters and some dialogue... No affiliation to CW/WB, DC
Summary: My take on Clark Luthor's descent into darkness.
Feedback: Oh, yes please!
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Epilogue
The
wind is strong, crisp. He stands atop the LuthorCorp building,
scanning the streets below. Particularly, he scans the multitudes
entering and exiting the media hub across the street. It's late, he's
been in the same spot for hours. His eyes strain to see the faces of
each individual.
It's
been months since his birthday party. Months since he's accepted his
fate. He had let go of the idea of another life, this is all there
is. He is the son of a business tycoon. He has anything and
everything the world has to offer at his fingertips, not to mention
his inhuman abilities.
It
had taken some convincing for Clark to accept that the power was
within him to be strong - that his birthday present from Lionel had
not changed him into a different person. Lionel had helped him
understand that the red meteor rocks simply take away Clark's
inhibitions. After the realization that he honestly didn't like who
he had been for the past fifteen years, he let go of his inhibitions
naturally. He did not need the ring now.
Lionel
had given him a new ring, one without any sort of Kryptonite. A true
family jewel. He is
turning it slowly, on his pinky, as he stares
down at the crowds below.
There's
only one thing in this world that he cannot posses, and he hasn't
stopped obsessing about it since that night at his party. He had gone
back to Excelsior, and hoped to spot her in the city. After a few
weeks, he remembered she worked at the Daily Planet, and had started
scouting for her. This was his fifth night, waiting, watching.
Clark
recognizes a blonde head in the crowds, his eyes automatically
focusing in its direction. The guy is a few years older than Clark,
in Lex's classes. There, with her hands wrapped around his arm was
the brunette Clark had been waiting for. His eyes narrow, and he
spits an expletive into the darkness. He had never liked the Queen
boy anyhow.
At
that moment, Clark vows to make their lives a living hell. He knows
if anyone can succeed in that threat, it is himself. What he doesn't
let himself feel, let himself accept, is why. The reason he wants to
make them suffer, why he needs them to feel pain, isn't something he
dwells upon.
He
balls his fists and bends his knees, pushing off the roof with all
his strength. His hair flutters in the wind as he rises higher in the
night sky, his long, black jacket trailing behind him. Unsuccessfully
trying to swallowing the lump in his throat, he closes his eyes,
willing the wetness gathering there to escape.
When
he feels the Earth pulling him back down, he opens his eyes, his
irises burning red-orange in the darkness. His feet hit pavement in a
back alley, and he straightens to his full height.
There's
a shadow moving away from him and his lip curls. He wants to forget
the pain, to force someone else to feel what he feels. Whoever this
shadow is, they saw him land, they've seen his true nature. They
cannot be allowed to tell others, they surely can recognize him as
Lionel's youngest child. He knows what he must do.
A/N: I do believe this story is going to continue as a series. I already have a few chapter of the next section written, please let me know how you would feel about that.
