Canvas (The Pawn)
by: hanemg
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any formalized attachment with Smallville or its characters. This work of fan fiction is purely for enjoyment purposes only and no profit is gained with its use. Smallville and all its characters are the property of Warner Bros., DC Comics, Miller/Gough, Tolin-Robbins, et al.
Eric Summers was tired. In the past several months he had been poked and prodded by every medical instrument known to man and a few that possibly weren't. He was coming to think of himself as a tissue donor more than a person.
Walking into his room he heard the door slam and lock behind him. The room itself looked like a standard issue hospital room. "Or upscale jail cell" Eric thought to himself. There was a separate bathroom with a commode, sink and shower, but the bedroom itself held just a bed. Nothing else.
Eric had no idea where he was and hadn't seen his parents in months. One night shortly after his incarceration he had been awakened from a sound sleep and bundled into a van, which had transported him to God knew wherever this was. It was a situation, which could have been easily rectified if he still had his powers, but that was no longer an option. Clark Kent had seen to that.
For the thousandth time Eric cursed Clark's name. For a few days he had been a god. He had thought that nothing could hurt him and even when the police came for him he had nothing to fear. Each time someone came to draw another vial of blood he wished he could toss them around like he had the police that night.
The experiments were endless, as were the questions. He had gone over the day he had discovered his powers and the days surrounding it a thousand times and when he was finished he was asked to go over it again. Again and again he was forced to relive those few days when he walked the Earth like some kind of superman and the joy of knowing that nothing could hurt him was mingled with the self-disgust that everyone had feared him. Even his parents. Eric was sure that this was why they didn't come to see him.
The time that should have been the best of his life was ruined by the fact that everyone he encountered instantly looked at him like he was a freak. A monster that was going to steal all of their children and murder the innocent townsfolk. Eric would have laughed at the thought if he could wipe from his memory the image of mother's face frozen in fear as she pulled away from his embrace just before the police arrived.
Going over those events again and again did have the effect of convincing Eric that Clark was the common denominator in all of his problems. He often found himself wishing that he had thrown Clark a bit harder into that car. If he had maybe he wouldn't be where he was today. Either way, if he ever got out he would have his day of reckoning.
"If I get out," Eric said aloud ruefully. The sound of his voice echoing in his empty room. He was starting to give up hope.
He didn't know who had him, but he no longer thought it was the authorities. At least not the local authorities he told himself. These people only seemed to be focused on what he had been able to do. They had subjected him to numerous experiments in the attempt to "restart" whatever had happened to him before. All of the experiments had been failures and most had been painful.
In fact, the longer he went without being able to exhibit any signs of regaining his powers the more cavalier the scientists had started to become with the variety of experiments they subjected him to. Each one had been more elaborate and more painful than the previous one. Eric sometimes thought that they were simply trying to outdo one another with the absurdities they could subject him to while still allowing him to live.
But, he had made it through another day and sleep beckoned him. Laying his head on his pillow he quickly fell asleep.
*************************** The feeling of someone nudging his shoulder ended his night's sleep much too soon for Eric's liking.
"Get up, kid," the enormous orderly said. "The doc wants to get an early start. I think he has something new he wants to try today."
"Wonderful," muttered Eric as he began to get out of bed. He had learned after only a couple of days that being slow to comply was seen as the same as non-compliance. He didn't questions orders twice anymore or even once for that matter. The big orderly whose name he had never learned had impressed that point upon him.
He quickly donned hospital scrubs, his usual daily wear, and preceded the orderly out of the room.
At the end of the corridor he passed through a set of double doors into the lab. There by a table stacked full of books and various lab equipment stood a tall, thin man with a balding head wearing a lab coat. He was bent over the table studying the pages of a notebook with an intensity, which would have led one to believe they were filled with ancient hieroglyphics telling the location of lost treasure.
"Ah, good morning, Eric." Dr. Stephens said as he looked up at Eric's approach. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Fine." Eric answered. He figured any other answer would be ignored anyway so why bother swapping pleasantries.
"Excellent, excellent." Dr. Stephens replied absently as he picked up the notebook he had been studying and began walking further into the lab. "I have a new line of inquiry I wish to pursue that I think may gain us some results."
Eric wasn't sure who the "us" was that Dr. Stephens was referring to, but he was sure that he wasn't included so he remained silent as he followed the scientist.
"We've seen, " Stephens continued as he walked, "that your cells are responsive to the radiation given off by the meteor rocks, but we've never found anything useful about that responsiveness. Every amino acid, every chemical substance, gene therapy, all of them have proven useless. We've even tried low levels of electricity since it was involved in both the gaining and losing your powers."
"Then, a few days ago, it occurred to me. No human could have exhibited the powers you did without a radical change to their DNA, yet yours is basically normal except when it comes into contact with the radiation from the meteor rocks. Then it becomes reactive, but does nothing more. What if, I thought, the reactivity is simply the readiness to change, but it lacks the template on which to model itself and the power to accomplish the transformation. If that was the case then the electricity provided the power for the change, and something in your environment provided the template for your cells to mimic. Otherwise, the initial lightning bolt would have fried you instead of giving you enormous power."
"But what could I have been around that had that kind of power?" Eric asked.
"That, my boy, is a very good question. It may even be that whatever you were around didn't have the same abilities or properties you ended up with and the powers you exhibited were simply your DNA's expression of what it was trying to mimic. Either way, we're going to test my hypothesis today."
"How are you going to do that?"
"That's where I come in, Mr. Summers." said a new voice from behind him.
Eric turned around to face a tall man in his late forties with long brown hair, a moustache, and a goatee.
"And you would be..?"
"Lionel Luthor."
End Part 1
by: hanemg
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any formalized attachment with Smallville or its characters. This work of fan fiction is purely for enjoyment purposes only and no profit is gained with its use. Smallville and all its characters are the property of Warner Bros., DC Comics, Miller/Gough, Tolin-Robbins, et al.
Eric Summers was tired. In the past several months he had been poked and prodded by every medical instrument known to man and a few that possibly weren't. He was coming to think of himself as a tissue donor more than a person.
Walking into his room he heard the door slam and lock behind him. The room itself looked like a standard issue hospital room. "Or upscale jail cell" Eric thought to himself. There was a separate bathroom with a commode, sink and shower, but the bedroom itself held just a bed. Nothing else.
Eric had no idea where he was and hadn't seen his parents in months. One night shortly after his incarceration he had been awakened from a sound sleep and bundled into a van, which had transported him to God knew wherever this was. It was a situation, which could have been easily rectified if he still had his powers, but that was no longer an option. Clark Kent had seen to that.
For the thousandth time Eric cursed Clark's name. For a few days he had been a god. He had thought that nothing could hurt him and even when the police came for him he had nothing to fear. Each time someone came to draw another vial of blood he wished he could toss them around like he had the police that night.
The experiments were endless, as were the questions. He had gone over the day he had discovered his powers and the days surrounding it a thousand times and when he was finished he was asked to go over it again. Again and again he was forced to relive those few days when he walked the Earth like some kind of superman and the joy of knowing that nothing could hurt him was mingled with the self-disgust that everyone had feared him. Even his parents. Eric was sure that this was why they didn't come to see him.
The time that should have been the best of his life was ruined by the fact that everyone he encountered instantly looked at him like he was a freak. A monster that was going to steal all of their children and murder the innocent townsfolk. Eric would have laughed at the thought if he could wipe from his memory the image of mother's face frozen in fear as she pulled away from his embrace just before the police arrived.
Going over those events again and again did have the effect of convincing Eric that Clark was the common denominator in all of his problems. He often found himself wishing that he had thrown Clark a bit harder into that car. If he had maybe he wouldn't be where he was today. Either way, if he ever got out he would have his day of reckoning.
"If I get out," Eric said aloud ruefully. The sound of his voice echoing in his empty room. He was starting to give up hope.
He didn't know who had him, but he no longer thought it was the authorities. At least not the local authorities he told himself. These people only seemed to be focused on what he had been able to do. They had subjected him to numerous experiments in the attempt to "restart" whatever had happened to him before. All of the experiments had been failures and most had been painful.
In fact, the longer he went without being able to exhibit any signs of regaining his powers the more cavalier the scientists had started to become with the variety of experiments they subjected him to. Each one had been more elaborate and more painful than the previous one. Eric sometimes thought that they were simply trying to outdo one another with the absurdities they could subject him to while still allowing him to live.
But, he had made it through another day and sleep beckoned him. Laying his head on his pillow he quickly fell asleep.
*************************** The feeling of someone nudging his shoulder ended his night's sleep much too soon for Eric's liking.
"Get up, kid," the enormous orderly said. "The doc wants to get an early start. I think he has something new he wants to try today."
"Wonderful," muttered Eric as he began to get out of bed. He had learned after only a couple of days that being slow to comply was seen as the same as non-compliance. He didn't questions orders twice anymore or even once for that matter. The big orderly whose name he had never learned had impressed that point upon him.
He quickly donned hospital scrubs, his usual daily wear, and preceded the orderly out of the room.
At the end of the corridor he passed through a set of double doors into the lab. There by a table stacked full of books and various lab equipment stood a tall, thin man with a balding head wearing a lab coat. He was bent over the table studying the pages of a notebook with an intensity, which would have led one to believe they were filled with ancient hieroglyphics telling the location of lost treasure.
"Ah, good morning, Eric." Dr. Stephens said as he looked up at Eric's approach. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Fine." Eric answered. He figured any other answer would be ignored anyway so why bother swapping pleasantries.
"Excellent, excellent." Dr. Stephens replied absently as he picked up the notebook he had been studying and began walking further into the lab. "I have a new line of inquiry I wish to pursue that I think may gain us some results."
Eric wasn't sure who the "us" was that Dr. Stephens was referring to, but he was sure that he wasn't included so he remained silent as he followed the scientist.
"We've seen, " Stephens continued as he walked, "that your cells are responsive to the radiation given off by the meteor rocks, but we've never found anything useful about that responsiveness. Every amino acid, every chemical substance, gene therapy, all of them have proven useless. We've even tried low levels of electricity since it was involved in both the gaining and losing your powers."
"Then, a few days ago, it occurred to me. No human could have exhibited the powers you did without a radical change to their DNA, yet yours is basically normal except when it comes into contact with the radiation from the meteor rocks. Then it becomes reactive, but does nothing more. What if, I thought, the reactivity is simply the readiness to change, but it lacks the template on which to model itself and the power to accomplish the transformation. If that was the case then the electricity provided the power for the change, and something in your environment provided the template for your cells to mimic. Otherwise, the initial lightning bolt would have fried you instead of giving you enormous power."
"But what could I have been around that had that kind of power?" Eric asked.
"That, my boy, is a very good question. It may even be that whatever you were around didn't have the same abilities or properties you ended up with and the powers you exhibited were simply your DNA's expression of what it was trying to mimic. Either way, we're going to test my hypothesis today."
"How are you going to do that?"
"That's where I come in, Mr. Summers." said a new voice from behind him.
Eric turned around to face a tall man in his late forties with long brown hair, a moustache, and a goatee.
"And you would be..?"
"Lionel Luthor."
End Part 1