I'm using the first story as a base, changing things I think should be changed The characterization I had in the first story isn't what I wanted. So I changed it. This is the revamped awesome version of my story Ron El. It is longer. If you want to see how bad this was before, look for Ron El.
Here you go, the first rewritten chapter.
3757 words.
I don't Own!
ENJOY!
A small red haired boy, maybe seven years old, was walking down a road right at the edges of his family's property. His mind wandering to the events that lead to this, his deep blue eyes glazed over slightly.
His older brothers, nine-year-old's Fred and George, had been grounded for turning his teddy into a spider using their older brother Charlie's wand.
Ron Weasley had decided to get away from his family, from the loud crying of his little sister, to the condescending stares of his older brothers. When he walked out his mother called out, telling him not to go too far, and to stay away from the forest.
Ron heard something behind him once the house fell out of view, his mind snapping out of its musing to take in his surroundings. He yelped loudly, before his mouth was covered by a large hand, nails digging into his cheeks. Another arm slipped around his waist, pulling him flush with the hard body behind him.
He tried to scream, but the sound barely made it past the hand. He almost bit the man, until a feeling overcame him, a feeling like he was being sucked through a straw tube stomach first, before he passed out in the man's arms.
Ron woke slowly, his body hurt, especially his lower body, his wrists stung and his head was pounding. He felt something pushing him into something soft, he couldn't move his arms.
He pried his eyes open, only to freeze when he saw a large man on top of him. He opened his mouth to scream, only for the man to rush forward and stick his tongue down Ron's throat. Ron choked on the man's tongue and struggled, the man's hands moved up his sides, down his chest, down his back, before gripping his hips.
Ron bit the man's tongue, making him jerk back with a yelp. The man glared down at Ron with fire in his eyes, before fists came down on the young boy, making him yell out in pain. A fist to his temple sent him into a daze, his body no longer registering the pain that still continued to rain down on him.
After a moment, even through the daze, he felt a tongue push past his lips again. Hands again wandered across his body. Tears poured down his face, a whine at the back of his burning throat.
All he could think was that he had to get away, get away from this room, get away from this man. He felt a clouding blackness come over him before the same sucking feeling he felt before, starting in his stomach, and then, he was gone.
Ron found himself on the cold hard deck of a ship. The sea air stung his nose. He felt a hand gripping his arm. When he opened his eyes he saw a hand, only a hand, gripping his arm. The man was gone. He rolled over, shaking the hand off him, and rid himself of the contents of his stomach.
He heard yelling to his right, far off sounding. He needed to get away from it, he couldn't let the man find him again. He was sure to be angry. He didn't want the voices to take him back to that man.
He managed to get himself into a small locker, the smell of fish was overwhelming his senses. He waited until it was dark, well after the lights flickered off before leaving the small locker. He saw a bucket of water on the wooden floor. He looked around him before scuttling over to it.
Looking into the bucket, he saw his reflection. His nose looked funny, touching it hurt. There was blood on his face, mostly dried by now. His left eye was swollen shut. He could see the tears falling down his face, turning a clear pink color the farther they got down his face.
He couldn't wipe them away, it hurt just to move his arm. He also noticed that he wasn't wearing any clothes, his achy arms moved up to hug himself. It hurt to sniffle, so mucus was dripping down his face to, making him cry harder.
It was starting to get light outside, bringing Ron's attention to the sounds of people moving on board. He rushed back to the locker.
Ron hid in his tiny locker for four days, licking water off the side of his entrapment. Only once leaving to grab a loaf of stale bread and a shirt from another locker farther down the row, before returning to his locker and locking himself in.
He followed the men off the ship quickly, hiding between suitcases and legs before he was able to get on land and away from the ship and the sea.
A young boy tossed and turned in his bed, sweat making his black hair stick to his face and neck. Clark Clarke woke suddenly, a choked scream leaving his throat. His heart sped up even faster as memories bombarded his mind.
A rough landing, his tiny head clacking on the seat behind him. He had been in that shell for as long as he could remember, it's walls keeping him enclosed in a happy seat of comfort. But it was all torn away as the heat started to build. Something forced him to press more firmly into his seat, making his heart speed up in fear.
He gripped his legs. Everything was silent. He waited a minute for something to happen, and when nothing did, he dared leave the safe haven.
Clark huddled in on himself, thinking to himself that he should never have left his safe haven.
"Hello, Kal El."
Clark felt the tears drip down his face, one, two, He buried his face in his knees.
His blood was taken with tiny needles. And big needles. He felt his strength sap just a little every day.
Sometimes needles put things in him instead. He hated that. The burning feeling of whatever the doctor gave him, making his body feel like mush, like he was being burnt alive, or drowned in boiling water. Sometimes he would get food every day, sometimes he went weeks without eating.
Clark heard the door open, his head jerking up. He saw his mom through blurry blue eyes. She was moving to him slowly, kneeling gently next to him. He couldn't help but throw himself into her arms and cry into her shoulder.
Martha was furious. Her husband had been ignoring their marriage for the last four and a half years, this would be the fourth consecutive anniversary he would ignore. She didn't like it.
So she barged into her husband's office without telling him she was coming. He wasn't there.
She was about to storm out, when she heard a feint scream coming from behind a locked door. Horror filled her. She grabbed the axe from the wall, setting off an alarm somewhere. She didn't care.
She made quick work of the door before descending the stairs three at a time, uncaring of the risk she took in doing so.
"It's okay Darling. It's okay. He can't get you here." Martha held the crying boy to her chest, her hand making soothing circle motions on his back, her other running through his slightly dampened hair.
"What the hell! Chris!" Martha held the axe high, her eyes wide. She saw the boy cower from her. God, he couldn't have been older than eight or nine, his blue eyes looking up at her in pure terror.
She immediately used the blunt side of the axe to hit her husband, sending him to the floor with a cry of pain and outrage.
Martha didn't care. She pulled the boy up off the bed, wrapped him in a thin sheet, and ran up the stairs. She grabbed her husband's keys off the hook by the door and rushed into his truck.
The pair drove for hours, the day bleeding into night long before they stopped for gas. Martha had glanced at the bed of the truck, covered in tarp. Lifting it up a bit made her gasp. A large metal thing was sitting there. The boy looked at her through the back window, wide innocent eyes stared at her, ringed with red and glistening with tears.
Martha decided that she didn't care if this boy was human or not, she couldn't just leave him there, and she can't just abandon him now. She finished paying for the gas and got back in the car.
"My name's Martha." She told him after a while. The boy didn't speak.
"Do you have a name?" The boy looked up at her with fear.
"No name then?" Again silence met her.
"How about, Clark?" The boy seemed to sink into his chair in relief, a small smile on his face. A slight nod of the head made Martha grin.
The sun had been in the sky only an hour before Martha decided to stop for good.
Clark looked up and saw the figure of Jonathan Kent, his mother's boyfriend. He wiped his face with one arm and gave the man a watery smile.
They were so close now, Clark just knew that they would be a real family before the year ended.
Ron clutched his stomach, it burned. He whimpered from his spot on the floor of a bar, curled in on himself in a corner, unseen by most of the drunken patrons.
He decided then and there that he needed food, and he needed to get it now.
He'd only been on his own for a little while, finding a pair of discarded shorts somewhere that were just too big on him, he tied a frayed rope around him to keep them on. His shirt had torn somewhere before this, leaving it only up to his hips, the large neck hole slipping off one shoulder.
He moved quickly, pilfering food off tables when no one was looking. He left as fast as he could, hoping that no one saw him.
No dice.
"You little thief." A voice spat from behind him, before he was shoved into a brick wall.
"I earned that food, what have you done filth?" Ron could smell alcohol on the man's breath, a hand pushed him painfully into the wall, crushing one of Ron's hands as it was caught between Ron's stomach and the wall.
"Why don't you earn that meal?" Ron's mind went blank when he felt a hand where he never wanted to feel another hand. The feeling he had felt all those months ago consumed him, blackness pushing at the edge of his vision. It was different this time, instead of the feeling of being sucked through a straw, he felt a release.
The man that had him pinned was suddenly airborne, sent sprawling several feet away, knocking him into an unconscious state.
The blackness grew, soon consuming his vision and sending him into oblivion once again.
Chris was out drinking again, it had become a habit, to go out late and drink until he fell into bed the next morning.
He saw the boy being accosted. He didn't stop it, what did he care what a man did with his whore? But then the kid did something that sent the man flying. Chris watched the boy fall to his knees, cradling a hand to his chest as he watching with wide unseeing eyes. He watched the boy fall to the ground in a feint.
This was Dr. Christopher Karrlin's chance. He lost the last one, when his stupid bitch of a wife kidnapped him. He wouldn't let this one go, not if he could help it.
Thing moved by in a blur of color and pain, he didn't know how long he stayed with the doctor.
He remembers only small things, the needles, the blood, the burning feeling that took over for the beginning of his time with the doctor.
After that he found that he could do things. Little things like lifting tables and running faster than ever before. The speed prompted the doctor to fix a device to his ankle that would shock him into unconsciousness if he went too far from the lab.
Because of this, he kept some things to himself, like the X-ray vision and the making things float.
"Ronnie boy, you can do it. Just a little more." Ron felt like he was going to feint. He had been pushing the weights since he woke, and by the way the doctor looked, it had been long past his six-hour mark.
"After this we'll do track." The man almost sounded like his father, when he encouraged his older brother to do better in, that sport. Ron wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't remember much, only the vague notion of a family, a lot of people with red hair that he couldn't put names to.
He desperately tried to think of something other than the doctor and his encouragements. The older man he thought might be his dad, the lovely lady who would hold him, mom? Older boys, teasing him, telling him to keep up. A girl, loud and shrill, but cute?
He can't remember. The weights crashed down onto his chest.
"What did I tell you about concentration?" The doctor was pushing the weights down on him, the bar ebbing toward Ron's neck, starting to choke him.
"Get your thoughts straight, think only of your goals Ronald. No more stray thoughts."
He pushed the weights off of himself once the doctor got off him. He was pulled to his feet, and led directly to the next course. Running for the next six hours at full speed.
He didn't like his name anymore. He had clung to his name for years, it was the only thing that was his, the only thing that made him, him. But now, the doctor made sure to use his name as often as possible, saying it with false care or dangerous anger.
He didn't like it anymore, the sound of the word in every rendition, whether it be Ron or Ronald, Ronnie or Ron-Ron, it sent fear down his spine, made him cower away from the man, because he knew that pain was going to follow.
If he had the choice, he would change his name, change it to something this man hates. Maybe L? He heard the doctor cursing about someone named L before, he sure did hate the name.
Sometimes he wished he got invulnerability, or even healing powers, then he wouldn't have to feel the pain the doctor put him in, or, at least he'd heal quickly after sessions.
He did find that sometimes he could heal himself if he was willing to black out for short periods of time. It came from that feeling he got when he pushed the drunkard away, and vanished from his first kidnapper.
The doctor found out about the healing thing, and pushed him to his limits, giving him wounds that required many hours of unconsciousness to heal from. After a few months of that he figured that Ron could do other stuff with the feeling, like move things with his mind and changing small things into other things.
It was hard and left him weak, but the doctor always fed him more when they did this training, so Ron wasn't too against it.
He'd been there for years, each day blurring into the last, filled with pain and fear. Today was different. The doctor let him take a bath and dressed him in a set of clean, decent fitting clothes that didn't have the wear and tear his usual outfit bore. His long hair was brushed and held back with a tie at the nape of his neck.
He found his ankle chained to the wall and his wrists held together by a flimsy zip tie. Neither would stop him really, but it made the doctor leave him alone, so at least he had that.
His attention was brought to the stairs, where the doctor was descending. A man followed behind him. This was new.
The man was taller than Ron, Caucasian. He wore expensive looking clothes and walked with an air of superiority. But the thing that stood out the most about him was his hair, or, his lack of hair as it was.
Both men stopped before Ron's cage, the unknown man's eyes widened a fraction and his posture went rigid.
"This is the 'Super Soldier'?" The man's voice was just as cutting as the doctor's. It made Ron unconsciously take a step away from them, pulling on the chain connected to his ankle.
"I assure you, he is more than capable of anything you'd want to use him for." The doctor leered at Ron, making him pale and look away. He really hoped this man wasn't like the others, wouldn't want him the same way they wanted him.
"He's a child!" The man roared, turning to the doctor, his voice filled with rage. Ron looked up just in time to see the doctor attack the bald man.
This man just tried to defend him from the doctor? But, no one had done that before, no one had even known he was here. He couldn't let this man get hurt, even if it hurt him.
The electricity flowed through him as he broke the zip ties off his wrists and the chain connected to his ankle out of the wall. He easily broke through the cage bars and pushed the doctor away from the man, into a wall with a sickening crack.
The cops had been called at some point. The bald man had been surprised by Ron and moved to his side. Ron couldn't move now, barely holding onto consciousness.
"Hello Ronald." Ron couldn't help but flinch at the name, earning a raised eyebrow from the man.
"My name is Lex. I'm going to everything I can to help you, don't worry." The man stood over Ron. Ron would have tried to say something, would have assured him that he didn't need to waste his help on Ron, but all that came out was a shrill cry followed by him letting go of his hold on consciousness.
When Ron awoke he kept his eyes closed, trying to sense if anyone was in the room before announcing his awakening. He was on something soft, much softer than anything he had ever felt, even from his barely-there memories of his life before the first kidnapping.
He decided it would be best to get this over with an opened his eyes.
"You're awake." The man from before, Lex if his memory was correct, was sat on the edge of the bed Ron was laying on. Ron nodded slightly, he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what the man wanted, he didn't know what he wanted Ron to do.
Was he like the first kidnapper? Or the drunkard? He shuddered thinking that maybe Lex was like the doctor. He hoped he was like none of the above.
"You passed out." Lex's eyes were on him, the steel grey gaze looking over him, hopefully looking for injuries rather than, Ron hoped he was looking for injuries.
"I was going to get you a doctor-" Lex stopped suddenly, Ron guessed it had to do with the horror that was no doubt on his face. He didn't mean to, he knew that most doctors are nothing like Dr. Karrlin, but the title still sent shivers of fear up and down his spine.
"I didn't." Lex added quickly, his hand clenching in the sheet by Ron's feet. Ron made the man mad, he really hoped that Lex wasn't the abusive angry like the drunkard was. Ron moved away from Lex, he didn't want to chance it. He pulled his legs up from the blankets and wrapped his arms around them, smaller targets are harder to hit.
"I want to offer my home for you. It's large enough to hide away, you won't be forced to be in anyone's presence if you so please. I have some paper work that I'd have to fill out to make it official but-" Lex trailed off when he looked at Ron. His confusion must have been showing.
"I'm asking if you'd like to come live with me, as my son." Lex was obviously unprepared for Ron launching himself into the man's arms. He didn't know why, but he felt safe with this man, he wasn't acting anything like the first kidnapper, the drunkard, or the doctor. He was being nice and offering him safe haven. He was what Ron had been dreaming of since as far back as his memory allowed.
It was in the safe, though a little awkward, embrace of this man that Ron fell asleep, not into unconsciousness, but into an actual, peaceful, sleep.
The next year was the best Ron could hope for. Lex had helped him remember his birthday, which revealed his age as 15, eight years since he had been initially taken.
They had his name changed, they actually had to create new papers, since there was apparently no record of his birth. His new name was L Luthor, he remembered the doctor's hatred of the name L and decided it was best, let him get out a bit of the anger he had at the man via spite.
Lex was a great father, more attentive then his memories of his last father, smarter than most everyone he knows, now and from before. He helped L learn more about everything, getting him up to grade level to start school in the fall. He even taught L how to play the piano and chess.
It was the best thing L could have hoped for.
The meteor shower didn't change much around his life with Lex. L stayed in the mansion most of the time as Lex went out to help rebuild barns and houses and things that Lex didn't want L to do.
He didn't mind that much, he still didn't want to hang around others much, not just yet. He knew that Lex was trying to protect him, not letting him go out unless he was there alongside him. Lex still took him places, like to see his grandfather, Lex's dad, Lionel. The having been placed in a mental institution after being found unconscious after the meteor shower.
Even with all of this, L still loves his life with his father.
Much better in my opinion.
Mars
