Disclaimers: If I had created any of the characters, I don't think I'd be sitting here at this moment.
Character Pairing: N/A
Darkness is not a light switch nor is it a journey taken by those who sought it. It is a path, a path taken by those who seek forgiveness, by those who determine to do right but interrupted by the corrupted and wrong. Little by little, each take their steps towards the dark. Though, one will realize it, one will take it and caress the darkness's beauty. However may this one take darkness hand in hand, he will also try to prevent it, which ever way he finds possible. Yet the closest to him only seek the good within the burden soul he carried, they but only push him within the border line of the dark. Where the young man will reside within, till the end and morning of each dawning day.
The sky opened within the empty canvas, and admitted the gracing colors of burning day. Rays of vivid illumination stretching out across the vast sea of golden stained fields. Resting and faded between the times and periods it seeks. The massive vicinity belonging to Luthor, towered over most, if not all, buildings within the area. It stood, bold, brilliant, taunting, and yet ever graceful. It's stones all holding it's own personal story of inhuman trimpts and moral standing. Holding it's own story of creation and destruction. Curious how the common stone seem to hold most brilliance and grace and yet hold the blood stain history sought only by those who were curious to linger. However, the Castle history was far from the young man's troubled mind.
Pacing the inner most room of his study province. A place where he sought and found comfort and solidtude. His footsteps echoing, mockingly within the foundations around him. The berth riddle settling within his mind capacity. Choices, many choices, all cluttered about him. Forgotten friendship, failed trust, decietful lies, all eluded his choices. Emotions finding it's perfect territory within his body and mind. Fiddling with decisions he must and had to make. Nevertheless, still there. Haunting him at the inner most peace.
Flawless pale complexion stretched over his solid frame. A pure baldness over his scalp. Not a baldness intentional made but instead a curse put upon him as a child. Additionally as well, another burden place on him, was the surname he held. A surname that seem to determine the man he was. The man he wish he wasn't and yet was there all the same.
In all the roads, we all take one in the end. In all the roads, he wish to take he was merely descending the one he most denied. Once holding the ulimate savior within his grasp, now held nothing but the petty fortune left to him. Perhaps inside of him, this is what he truly wished for.
Perhaps he had truly wish for his father's impisonment, Clark's ended friendship, Chloe gone on his fault, and perhaps he had even wished for his father's posion to have actually work. It was certainly a possiblity or perhaps it was merely a guilty conscious speaking directly at him. Accusing him with all pointing fingers. Allowing him no escape, none whatso ever.
The young billionaire sighed and reluctantly sat himself in front of him computer. Asleep at first and baring the symbol of no other then LuthorCorp, at the touch of a button the man made piece of technology awoken with a start. Drumming the fingers of his left hand over the clear glass of his desk, he stared intently at the information which had spread across the computer screen. Lines after lines of useless information...or was it completely useless. His cell phone began to ring. Startling the young Luthor but he made no moves to admit it.Releasing the moible phone from his pocket, he glanced briefly at the caller ID. The identiy of the caller had came to a shock to Lex. Nevertheless, the young Luthor found himself turning off the phone and placing it face up upon the desk. After all what business did Clark Kent have with him.
Within the minutes he found himself contemplating his reluctance for answering Kent's phone call, the doors of his study dramatically burst opened. Of course, his first thoughts of whom it might be rested solely on one person whom he knew loved to make dramatic entrances when given the chance; Lionel Luthor. His insinuations were, of course, wrong. As the intruder approached the desk, Lex found himself sitting up and staring intently at the figure.
"Luthor!" he shouted breaking the silence. Lex continued to stare, he showed no emotion of shock or surprise. He merely sat back comfortably on his computer chair. His feet propped up on the cool transfluent glass.
"Can I help you?" the young Luthor asked.
"No, but I can help you in more ways then you think," the intruder had replied. That deserved an eye roll but Lex had not given in on the pleasure. Nonetheless, he stood from his computer chair, perfering not be caught behind his desk, and proceeded towards the man. He placed his pale slender hands into his pocket, fingering a rather hight tech security device.
"Oh trust me Luthor. You don't want to do that," the man had implied. "This place is surrounded." Lex inclineded his head slightly and arched a narrow brow.
"Surrounded?" He merely questioned. The man had nodded. With a peculiar enthasium, he began to explain his definite meaning of "surrounded".
"What I mean, Luthor, is that where ever you go you are being watched. Red dots crossing your chest. You can look around yourself, Lex, and not realize that you have a gun barrel pointed directly at your bald head," the man had inched his face closer to Lex. Lex, however, had not moved an inch. He merely stood listening to the man's choosen words. He slowly turned his head towards the man. "Daddy is no longer to save you anymore, Lex."
"I never needed my father to save me. If you think you'd get a ransom sum from this, you are sorely mistaken. You can take my word on that." For a split moment in the young Luthor's mind, he had thought he had made an remarkably trademark impression on the intruder. Instead of being rewarded of a quiver of a lip, his word went temporarily black.
Yet, as black as his word may be that had not granted him peace of mind. In fact way from the sort. His mind wondered throughout the possiblities of anyone who could have organized such a petty kidnap. Surely not his father. No, he knew his father. A kidnapping of his father's doing would be more elegant, graceful. ore well thought of, more well planned. This, however, was as if was thought up as it went along. Not strange, since he had before seen these being played out before but that did not exactly mean he had a chance of escaping with his life.
"Oh Luthor," teased a vague yet familiar voice. "Time to wake up..."