The demon found itself irresistibly drawn to Clark Kent. Unlike the other people in the lecture hall, it knew he was no regular student, was much more than just a mere farm boy. It could sense it. Even at a distance, it could almost taste his incredible power.
"… as time and again, humanity destroys that which it does not understand," continued Professor Milton Fine. The demon sensed something about Fine too, though it had not yet determined what he truly was. It's instincts – or perhaps it's master's voice, discreet and hidden, it could not be certain – warned it to stay away from Fine. Whatever he was, he could not kill the demon, but perhaps he could interfere with its plans for Kent. That could not be allowed.
"Look at William Golding's novel 'The Inheritors', in which we, the reader, feel sympathy for The Neanderthals, even as we realise it is us who are wiping them out. Golding fools us into taking sides with the kind of thing we so often despise. Don't you agree, Mr Kent?"
Clark, who The Demon knew had not been paying attention, looked startled momentarily. It supposed he had been daydreaming about Chloe Sullivan again. Young love, so exciting and new, could be a large distraction for humans. It looked forward to destroying that part of Clark's life most of all. One person close to him had already been brought under its influence, and another would follow soon. They wouldn't realise it of course, not until it was far too late for things to be stopped.
"Um, I've never actually read it," he said.
"Of course not," said Fine with some distain. "Sometimes I think teaching you people comes at the price of my sanity. I'd advise you all to read it, and I'll be praying to St Jude that you do."
That signalled the end of the lesson, but as the demon tried to leave, Fine called it over.
"I don't remember seeing you in any of my classes during the first few weeks," said Fine, almost cheerfully.
"I was transferred here just recently."
"Ah, I see. Well allow me to offer you a belated welcome. And while you're here, I'll ask you to keep in mind that college has enough… distractions… without you spending my lessons eyeing the back of Mr Kent's head."
"Oh… I see. I didn't realise it was so obvious. I was still paying attention though; your lecture was quite fascinating. I'll be sure to read that book."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Fine, turning his back and gathering up some of his things. The demon resisted the urge to snap his neck; it was curious to see what would happen. It still couldn't help but feel on edge around him though. He spent time with Kent after classes sometimes… it wasn't sure it liked that much. Still, for now it had other concerns. It needed to feed. Fine wasn't a suitable candidate, but there were no shortage of people on campus who would suffice.
"Come on, Clark, I need you," hissed Chloe as his phone continued to ring out. She'd been trying to get hold of him for some time but he wasn't picking up. She was running out of time, she knew. And if that happened…
"Chloe?" she heard him say, sounding pleased to be hearing from her.
"Clark, thank God. I've been trying to reach you. Is everything all right?" she said, looking around nervously.
"Yeah, I just had my phone on silent when I was class. I guess I kind of forgot to set it back."
"Well that's great, Clark, because I really need you here right now." She lowered her voice. "I have a problem."
"Tell me where you are," said Clark, sounding concerned, but as strong as ever.
"I'm at my apartment," she said. She closed her eyes and hoped he would hurry.
He hurried. Before she even opened her eyes she knew he was there, could feel his presence. Wrapping her arms around him, she gave him a deep kiss, worry on his face turning to surprise.
"Chloe, you said this was an emergency," he said, taking her by the shoulders. She picked up her handbag and smiled at him.
"I didn't exactly say that now, did I? I said I had a problem, which I do, and I need my boyfriend along for moral support," she said, looking at him and frowning for a moment. "Uh, and they have a dress code where we're going, so you might want to nip home and change."
"What are you talking about? Look, this might be the kind of stunt Lois would pull if she knew I had powers, but I…"
"Expected better of me? Look I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I got roped into this assignment for The Planet I couldn't say no to. Not if I want to have any kind of career there anyway. It's not really my kind of thing, so I hoped you would come. You have a way of putting me at ease."
"You could have just asked me," he said. "I love spending time with you."
A few years ago she would have blushed madly at those words. Today she covered it perhaps only slightly better.
"Glad to hear it," she said taking his arm.
"So what's the assignment? You said it's not your kind of thing, so I'm guessing it's something normal for a change?"
"There's nothing normal about the world of celebrity, Clark. It's weirder than you could ever hope to be. I've been assigned to do a story on some budding young actress. Nobody's heard of her yet, but it seems like she has some pretty influential friends if The Planet's covering her."
"And The Planet forced the job onto you."
"Afraid so. We're going for dinner and drinks, and somehow I have to get enough from this girl for a full story. Well, I guess it won't be so bad if you're with me. For one night only I guess we're a reporting team again."
"Sounds good to me. I miss the time we spent at The Torch. Writing for that was one of the few things I could do without having any unfair advantages," he said.
"And speaking of those advantages, time to go get changed, Clark."
"Can't have me showing you up in front of some star no-one's heard of," muttered Clark, before speeding away.
Friday nights were always the same for Sophie. Meet up with a few friends, get sht-drunk, have a few laughs. Except lately drinking didn't seem to be helping her forget her troubles. Her friends were being chatted up by two guys; nothing too special, but what did that matter when she was paid no attention at all? She'd been left standing, feeling foolish, and her the only one who was any kind of celebrity at all! Any kind of somebody.
"What are you looking so sad about, love?" asked one of the guys, eyes bloodshot, feet unsteady. "Get a few more drinks down you!"
Sophie blushed slightly, but fortunately the bar area was dark enough no-one noticed. Not that anyone was looking at her anyway – the drunkard's attention was back on Annie (and his hand back on her ass.) She hadn't realised she looked sad at all, and her an actress. An actress with friends in the right places, who was actually going somewhere. Not at all like Annie, who waited tables or Lindsey who claimed to work in retail but Sophie suspected was actually a hooker.
She certainly wasn't shy, whispering into her own admirer's ear in between bouts of lip-locking. Probably asking him back to her place, thought poor forgotten Sophie, or even just to the toilets or the alley out back. There the clumsy, embarrassed fumbling could really begin. She angrily wondered where the reporter from The Planet was. She was late, and Sophie was in half a mind to call the office and demand to know where she was.
Looking around, she realised with some horror that nobody in the place was paying her any attention. Here she was, attractive, young, friend of A-list stars and soon to be one of said list herself. Yet no-one was noticing her, no-one was trying to chat her up, nobody was even feeling sorry for her.
No, she realised, that could be right. Of course some, if not most, of the men here had noticed her. Yet her looks were too much for them; she appeared unobtainable in their eyes. They were afraid to make a move. That's all it was. She pushed her way to the bar. That drunken prck was right, she should get a few more drinks down her. That suddenly felt like a right and most excellent idea. And was that a hot-looking guy standing alone at the bar? It most certainly was, and he just might be in luck tonight.
Before she could inform him how lucky he was though, she saw Sullivan make her way in. She was dressed professionally, though Sophie had to concede she had an easy beauty to her. Disgustingly, Sullivan didn't even appear aware of it. Worse, some man was clinging to her arm. Why was he here? Did Sullivan feel the need to rub her man in everyone's face?
"Sophie, hi!" said Chloe, offering her hand. "This is Clark, my boyfriend. I hope you don't mind me bringing him along. I thought you were here with friends? Where are they?"
"Never mind," said Sophie impatiently. Clark was smiling at her. Sophie's heart fluttered just a little; he was a good looking guy certainly. Probably a model or something. Someone like that was wasted on Sullivan. Perhaps he could be convinced of that.
"Our table's in the back," she said, leading them through. "This place is pretty dead tonight."
"I guess," said Chloe, in a voice that suggested it looked packed and lively to her. Still, their standards would be vastly different.
They took their seats at a table set for five, but she didn't think her friends would be joining her. She offered Clark a winning smile. It was supposed to let him know she was interested; he didn't appear to be picking up on that. What the hell was it supposed to take? A flash of a shtting nipple?
Jonathan Kent was in the grip of some terrible nightmare, or so a dim part of his mind told him. He was sitting with a beer in his hand, and he wasn't sure why. He hardly ever drank. A young girl was sitting in front of him, smiling sweetly at him. She looked about Clark's age, slim but still looking as if she possessed a great deal of strength. Her eyes looked grey in the diminished light of The Kent living room. He didn't know where Martha was, and didn't understand why a voice in the back of his mind was hoping she stayed away.
"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?" he asked. The whole situation felt totally surreal.
"I'm Sarah. I'm a friend of Clark's," she said. Her voice was neutral, but her eyes twinkled with amusement – or so Jonathan thought. But why would that be?
"I see. Well, Clark's not here right now. He's in Metropolis with his girlfriend…"
"I know where he is. I always know," she said. She took his hand then, and though his head felt foggy, he thought there was something strange about the way she felt.
"How could you possibly…"
"Shh. Do you see a picture of a man in your mind right now?"
Through the fog, he could see someone. He recognised the man immediately, though he didn't know him all that well.
"Yes," he heard himself say.
"Quite soon you are going to meet this man in the flesh. When you do, I want you to kill him. Will you kill him? Will you do this favour for a friend of your son's?"
"Yes," whispered Jonathan.
"Rude to whisper!" said Sarah loudly. She released Jonathan's hand and sat back, looking pleased.
"I'm about to start telling a story, Mr Kent. Some of it will be in words, but much of it will be visual. Parts of it will be interactive, requiring audience participation. Although there won't be an audience for long, I guess; pretty soon everybody will be involved on stage. You, Chloe, that strange reporter fellow… your son too. And let's not forget dear Sophie. You don't know her, but she's finally appearing in something other than those shtty TV movies of hers. Does that all sound like fun to you?"
Her eyes widened with delight, encouraging a response from him. None came.
"Don't feel like answering?" The girl laughed and shook her head. "It's a good story, Mr Kent. All about love and pain; good and evil, damnation and redemption. The ending lets it down a little, I fear. No-one lives happily ever after. No-one lives happily at all. Hell, a lot of them don't even live."
She giggled at this point, walking over to the window and staring across the horizon. Feeling like he'd been drugged, Jonathan tried to get up, to focus his thoughts. He already seemed to be forgetting everything that just happened. He didn't understand why, but he thought that might be dangerous. For himself, for his son, and for the man he was forgetting he'd been told to kill.
Chloe's father, Gabe Sullivan.
