By Storymaker8931
Prologue
The cold early winter breeze dried the tears on his face, that made his cheeks stiffen. The weather in SmallVille was much worse than in the winter months. However since the meteor shower incident more and more criminals and serial killers have been infected by the everlasting power of those tiny green meteor rocks. How many times Officer. Ryan had heard stories of past criminal cases involving the stop. He'd stopped listening to them after four of five cases, where innocents had lost their lives. His blue eyes were colder than the sky on that winter morning, as his own heavy footsteps crunched and squished the white fluffy snow underneath him. He was in a field. A field along with a few other officers from his team. The reason he'd been called out there in the first place, well, as he drew closer to the edge of the field, drawing closer to the hedges of longer hedge, he'd finally found that reason. The reason he and his team had been called out there in the first place, was lying face down in the fluffy white, stains of crimson and scarlet covering all over the top of the back of the person's head. He knelt down to the corpse, inspecting every inch of the leftover crime as best he could. His mouth turned into a straight line, unsure how to make any sort of emotion, to explain what it was he was staring down at. With both his hands, he planted them onto one part on the body, then rolled him over, onto his back. Officer Ryan let out a gasp of shock, and surprise at what he was seeing, It was much worse now. So much worse.
In the winter, snowshoeing and skiing are popular, both downhill and cross-country, but this poor gentleman, he wasn't here to ski or to take part in cross-country, he had no gear with him, when he died, nor was he with someone. He'd died alone. Someone had lured him to this spot. The victim has matching missing buttons on their worn winter coats, just like the last victim he'd heard about, months before. These cases were connected. The serial killer from the last case, had murdered this other gentleman. And from what Ryan could make out from the body, this new bit of evidence, he was sure how he'd missed such important details, caused him to cringe, as his dropped drop like a pit of ashy smoke. The body was covered with bright colors of different shades of paint. Each of the colors had this shine to it, that made it seem like he was somehow glowing. Red, green, white, and bits of yellow covering the top and bottom of his ankles, and thighs. He'd been knocked out with something hard, a fatal blow to the back of the head, then painted with glow in the dark paints.
The pain seemed to cause burning around the areas in which it was applied. Ryan's trench coat was long, unfasted enough, as the small icy cold breeze from the pit of winter air whipped past him, whipping back one side of the coat, to reveal a makeshift gun tucked against his leg. He'd pushed himself out of the bed, standing for a long moment, gazing out the window at the fields, close to his home. The field of winter wheat glowing in the moonlight, when it grew dark. In the mornings he found that the wheat did not glow, as he prepared himself for the busy day of an afternoon police officer.
''He's killed as many as twenty since the winter began,'' said Thomas Tanner, his partner, as he came towards him. His gaze shifting from him, to the body below. The winter was cold, but beautiful in SmallVille, but it would've been so much better without the countless pools of blood, now dyeing the white snow, with the violent, bright, color.
''He's changing his style,'' Ryan whispered. ''This murder isn't even close to his normal style, nor is the victim even close to the same age group in which he's killed, in the past.''
''He's changing up his style, in order to try to throw us off his trail.'' Thomas answered. ''What kind of sick pressure does someone get out of painting their victims, once they are dead?'' Ryan asked. Thomas shifted next to him, as he crossed his arms to his chest, his eyes shifting from the sight of the dead man blew them, back to his partner, staring at him with icy, cold, lifeless eyes. ''I have no idea, all we seem to know about the guy, is he's obsessed with those green meteor rocks. So far, we've spotted them in every case, we're put on!'' Ryan hissed. ''Now he's taken things up a level. Mixing shards of that rock into paint, and painting the corpse's body with it. Sick, just sick.''
''We have to take this guy down.'' Thomas answered, whispering to Ryan. Ryan nodded in agreement, as he began nervously biting down on his bottom lip. He did that when he was nervous, or scared, however no one but him truly understood why he was offended doing that. Ryan was embarrassed, but couldn't seem to find any ways at getting himself to knock off the nasty habit. His bottom lip looked much dryer, and pale, in color, then his bottom, as a result of it. The wind around them grew stronger, as he walked through the snow, Thomas next to him, where they returned to the corner, where the chief of police, and an ambulance sat, waiting for the time when they could take the body. SmallVille was his home, he'd taken a bow to protect it, and everyone who lived there. However, in recent months, he was starting to realize the truth. That truth being as he'd failed.
Chapter One
Clark started his morning just like normal, just like he did everyday, he woke up at 6.30am every morning, got dressed, and gathered up whatever he was going to need for school that day. Waking up at the time he did, normally gave him enough time, enough time to get downstairs before his mother had to call for him. He went with a normal, casual, outfit that morning, making sure it was still just as comfortable as his other outfits, but just a little bit warming, since the winter months were upon SmallVille now. He placed a bright red jacket over a blue and white striped buttoned shirt. By 6.45am he was all dressed, had his backpack all packed up and prepared, placing it around his wrist, where it sat, till he came down stairs, and would place it on the kitchen table as he hurried along to school. Coming down the stairs as he did, his normal pace, instead of his superspeed, where he took in the cheerful smiles of both his parents. His mom seemed busy working on pancakes, she had cooked in a pan on the stove, while his dad seemed happy at working, drinking the remaining drops he had left of his first cup of dark coffee. The daily newspaper sat in front of him, face down on the table, as he kept his coffee cup close to his mouth.
''Good morning, glad to see you weren't going to miss out on pancakes.'' Martha said, greeting Clark as he walked around her, reaching the cupboard, as he returned with a small white glass mug. ''I'd be crazy to miss out on your pancakes.'' Clark smiled, as he placed his cup down on the table. His backpack now leaned against the chair leg, next to him, as he began rubbing the insides of the white mug he held. Indicating whether nor not his father had missed some dirt from last night's dishes. He wasn't always so observant, when it came to the challenge of washing, and drying all dishes. ''Oh. son,'' Jonathan began, forcing Clark to stop what he was doing, gazing at him with soft green eyes. ''I don't think you'll need any coffee this morning, I'd recommend hot chocolate. It appeared to have snow a lot last night, they closed the roads, so I guess, if you were still a little boy, you'd be having a snow day.'' he laughed, as he took the rest of his coffee, from the cup, now into his mouth.
''Really?'' Clark groaned. ''What am I supposed to do all day? I wasn't planning on doing too much, at this point I'd rather be up to my neck in homework! Anything to pass the time.'' Clark said leaning back in his chair, frustrated with the change of plans.
''If you wanted too, you could help me with some repairs. The tractor has been making some odd sound lately, could use your strength to check the gears on the bottom.'' his dad offered. ''Sure, sounds like fun.'' Clark replied.
''Breakfast first, chores later.'' Martha said, cutting them both off, from conversation, as a sizeable plate of pancakes, was placed in the middle of the two of them. Clark being the closest to the plate, was the first to grab one, as it quickly vanished inside his mouth. Grabbing another one as quickly as he could, he rose from his chair, the bit of squished pancake in his fingers, while the white mug could be seen in his other hand, as he hurried along to the fridge. He needed something to wash down the rather large pancake. He was only thinking about how good the pancake would taste, not so much the aftermath of it all. ''If you're looking for something to drink, Clark, there should be a base jug of orange juice, bottom shelf.'' Martha said, guiding his eyes to the bottom, where the bright orange liquid stared back at him. His eyes moved past the jug, once it was tightly in his grip, as he turned, facing the counter, as he began to pour. He wiped the bottom of his hands, with a nearby cloth, and took a sip from his cup. As he drank, he turned his back to the edge of the counter, and stood there for quite a while. While he was distracted, he was alerted by the sudden, heavy, bangs of outside footsteps. They were climbing up the stairs, to the front door. He turned his eyes back to where his parents were, setting them off, as the doorbell rang. Martha was the first one to stand, walking over to the door, as Jonathan joined his son's side.
The door opened, revealing two warmly dressed police officers, being behind it. Each held a firmly serious expression, each matching with light blue winter coats, though the belt which held their gun, and other equipment was still clearly visible. ''Something I can do for you, officers?'' Martha asked them, a bit of nervousness behind her voice. Jonathan and Clark looked at one another, Clark shook his head, they weren't here because of him. Jonathan seemed to let out a sigh of relief, as he walked across the floor, past the living room, joining his wife, who backed away, as Jonathan became visible to the officers now. ''What's this about, offices?'' he asked. The first officer cleared his throat, as his partner shifted, then turned from his partner, walking back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, while the officer, in front of Jonathan, shifted his breathing, unsure how to place his words properly.
''There's been another murder.'' The officer whispered. ''This one much closer then the others.''
''How close?'' Jonathan asked, a bit of frustration edged into his voice. ''A little ways down the road.'' The officer replied. ''So, in other words, close to us?'' he asked. The officer nodded. Jonathan turned to see Martha standing there, watching him with soft, worried eyes. ''What should we do? Should we go somewhere else?'' she asked. ''That's not necessary unless you'd feel better,'' the officer interrupted. ''You're safe, you all are! I swear it! My partner and I are just altering nearby homes, to keep safe, and alert. That's all. Unless you feel you'd be more comfortable leaving, we can set something up for you. If you'd like.'' The officer stammered. Jonathan shook his head, as he thanked the officers for his time. Then as he closed the door, excusing himself, he made sure the door was closed, then locked. ''Are you sure this is the best choice?'' Martha asked.
''You need to get on this, son.'' Jonathan said to Clark. Clark shared his expression, as he placed his mug on the counter. He nodded then quickly wiped the grease from his fingers, as he stormed past the living room. A fresh chill from the cold, winter, breeze, brushed past his face, from the crack under the door, as he waited, listening for the ongoing footsteps of the officers, as they left. ''Clark, you can't be serious? This is a serial killer, he's killed so many, already! I won't let you risk your safety! I won't!'' Martha shouted, reaching for his arm, tugging him back, though she wasn't able to pull him back that far, seeing as he was a lot stronger than she was. Clark turned to look at her, taking her hands in his, forcing Martha to look at him. He held this unbreakable stare, she'd seen ever since he was a little boy. Once he was determined to do something, there was no breaking him away from it. Martha sighed, letting out a fresh breath of air, as she hugged herself, tightly. She could feel the cold winds, outside. Seeing that it bothered her more than him, Clark slowly moved over to the door, bringing himself in front of it, cutting off the breeze from getting to her, as he nodded at both her and then at Jonathan.
''I won't be gone long.'' he promised. ''I only want to look around.''
''If something should happen?!'' Asked Jonathan.
''It won't come to that. I can handle this.'' Clark swore, before he vanished, the door shutting behind him, gusted over by a gust of white winds, and chilled ice.
Chapter Two
''You promised your mother you could handle this! You promised your father you could handle this! When you told me that, I assumed you'd be going alone! But no, always have to involve your old buddie, Pete! Right?!'' Pete hissed. ''There's no one better, I trust more.'' Clark replied. ''Oh no? Really,'' Pete asked sarcastically. ''Chloe perhaps? She's the reporter!'' he hissed again. ''Stop being so dramatic,'' Said Clark. ''I asked for your help, because you can keep a secret. I can't have Chloe being here, especially if its related to the meteor shower.''
''How'd you come to that conclusion?'' Pete questioned, raising his eyebrows, though Clark wouldn't be able to see it, since his back was facing him. ''That information wasn't released to anyone, including the public, how'd you get it?' Pete questioned.
''I didn't need to access that information, I just had a feeling. Besides, since the first murder, my parents haven't stopped discussing the subject. Even when they think I'm not able to hear them. This is where I would be extra thankful my super-hearing happened when it did. they don't want anyone to know the murders are related to the people who got infected by the rocks, after the meteor shower, it would freak to many people out.'' Clark sighed. ''And that's why your folks asked you to come out here? To this previous crime scene? Because you're related to the meteor shower?'' Pete asked. ''I wouldn't say it like that, but pretty much, kind of. I was brought down in that meteor shower, those pieces of rock were parts of my planet. So, if there's anything I can do to fix this, and stop those who want to harm others, I'm going to try.'' Clark breathed. ''And my parents don't know I'm here. They know what I am doing, but I didn't exactly draw them a map of all my locations.''
''So, if we die out here? No one will find us, cause they don't know?'' Pete reworded, catching his friends attention, as Clark rolled his light coloured eyes. ''We're not going to die out here. Atleast I won't.'' he laughed which made him receive a punch to the arm from Pete. Growling in anger and frustration as the cold breeze of flurry snow, waved past the two. Clark's eyes shifted from his friend's attention, to the long, snow covered field of wheat. Stacks and stacks of tied up bundles of the stop, lined the corners of the snow banks, as new droppings of fresh snow, came down above them. They'd made the right decision to close the roads, that morning, Clark was sure of it now, with everything, there was no way he'd be able to relax at all, while at school. It was better for him to be out here, then in a classroom, worrying, haunting himself with images of more dead people.
Besides with all the snow and invisible ice underneath, there was no way he'd be able to use super speed that afternoon. His shortcut had become something other than a shortcut now.
''Clark, there's a trail of dried blood over here!'' Pete shouted, calling him over, as Clark made his way over to him. Staring down at the ground, a trail of bright red scarlet stared up at him. It didn't look fresh, but it was recent. This must've been what sent the police over to his home that afternoon, the murder had taken place hours before, the most recent one there'd been. Most had occurred weeks ago, but this, this had just happened four hours ago, meaning the person responsible, could be still lurking around. The blood drained from Clark's face., causing goosebumps to cover up both his arms, even under the jacket he wore, protecting his skin, or so he thought. He began to shiver as the cold wind brushed up against his spine, taking him from behind. Pete was a few feet further, away from him, his back turned to Clark, as if he'd found something more interesting, and began examining. However, Clark had been stuck. Frozen standing in the middle of the dried blood trail, leading up to a full puddle of the stuff, though it was dark, as the surface of the snow, covered with the stuff.
''Clark?'' he heard Pete's voice, thought it sounded farther away, then it once had been. Though as he looked up, he saw him. Pete wasn't that far away, so why was he picking up his voice as if they were both inside some shadow, covered cave? ''Clark?'' he heard his name again, then the warmth of his hand, placed on his shoulder. ''Clark? Clark, you're bleeding!'' Pete's voice picked up a little, the hissing sound causing the greater pitch in Clark's right ear to pick up, though he couldn't make the sound travel any louder. Suddenly he looked down, blood was draining from him, causing some dizziness and disorientation, as the liquid came rushing down his pant leg. ''Clark,? What's wrong with you?'' Pete asked, his eyes directed to Clark's. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling of fresh fire, biting at him, as the flames travelled along through his veins, or how cold he suddenly felt, as the frost came pressing against his cheeks. He could see his breath as it escaped into the air. ''We, we should go.'' Pete reached out to grab for his friend's hand, but halted, as the sound of a shallow like melody, coming towards them, through a path between the wheat.
Clark was quick even though something was wrong with him, he fell to the earth, grabbing Pete down with him, clamping his hand over his friends mouth, then as he covered his own nose, to rid the smell of his own blood, he waited. Listening for the travelling melody, as the wind began picking up around them.
''Remain quite.'' he whispered, lightly, slowly taking his hand away from his friend. Pete just stayed there, kneeling, his knees pressed into the fluffy snow below them, as Clark turned his head, taking his eyes off his friend, for a moment, though he could feel Pete's eyes on him, the whole time he slowed to move. Without hesitation, Clark got down on his stomach, elbows pressed into the snow, in front of him, as he crawled himself forward. As he did this, he could feel his dripping knee, tightening, as the cold from the snow, surrounded the skin around the mysterious wound. Moving with desire to get out safely, and the heat he felt, boiling his blood, the relation hit just as he heard Pete gasp for air behind him, then fell with a thud to the snow.
Clark grabbed his friend as quickly as he could, travelling with the wind speeding down his entire body, he made it from the field to the open road. Reaching the road, he kept his eyes around his friend, gasping and breathing heavily, working hard to get the oxygen back into his lungs. But as his eyes stilled, glued to the field of wheat, he caught something, something that made his blood suddenly run cold. Glowing yellow teeth, peeking out from a small opening between two corners of wheat.
There, a hard earth like object came out of it, landing in front of him, rolling forward a little, Clark felt his stomach drop at the sight of it. The revealing corners of the rock, stuck out with pieces of dark emerald shards of emerald. ''Meteor rock...'' he whispered. He felt immediately dizzy, his limbs turning to dust right before his mind processed for his feet to run. To escape.
''You brought me much blood,'' the creature said, its voice causing Clark to tremble, where he laid. His belly pressed against the cement, his eyes rolling, as his face filled with the pain he felt inside. He could smell the fear, and the blood coming off of him, as it collided with the cold breeze. He smelled of blood, felt the weakness of his body, as the creature slumped towards him. He found Pete, lying on his back, arms laying still, next to his head. He was weak but alive, his body covered with scratches, and black bruises. But alive. He spit out a frosty, cold breath, as he pushed himself to his feet, rocking side to side, in an attempt to keep from falling back down. ''You're one of the phantoms? Aren't you?'' he whispered, soft, painful whispers, escaping his breath. ''You want more than just blood? Do I speak the truth?'' Clark asked. He felt hot, and sweat was now forming around his forehead, and in his hair, though he could not rid himself of the heat, boiling his blood. He could barely keep himself standing, any movement he would try to take, would surely end with his knees caving, causing him defeat.
''Pete...I'm getting you out of here,'' he said, weak, defeated, without thinking he moved himself forward, one foot in front of the other, racing down, holding his hand out, then pulled back once the small rock was safely pressed against the palm of his hand. The creature had been staring, watching him, with hunger like eyes, licking his yellow front teeth, it slumped closer towards where he stood. With a grimace, he sliced down, slicing the palm of his hand, with the small piece of meter. With the blood dripping, rolling down his wrist, he smeared some of it over his bare forehead, then he was off. He couldn't go very fast, or far, he just had to get far enough away from Pete. Lead the creature away, and hope it only preyed upon him, and no one else. Though he'd be lying to himself to think that.
As he let out in a small, light, jog, he heard the monster's harsh breathing behind him. From feet to inches, the monster was gaining on him. As seconds passed, Clark was forced to struggle, the creature had a hold on him, not so easily able to get free from. Wrapping its arms around him in a hold, he felt his lungs tightening, forcing his mind to draw blank, as with a firm kick to his back, he collapsed, landing on his back, in the middle of the road. The creature growled, seeming to be licking the fresh. wet, blood from his fingertips, as with his back bent. thin, tiny dead like legs, walked towards Clark.
He was unconscious now, as the creature began to haul him away. Pulling him by his arms. A massive creature with midnight, black, fur and yellow fangs paused suddenly, sniffling the air. As it turned the creature's fur suddenly shifted from black to white-Gray, hiding hideous features of its torn, dead skinned face, the sound of sirens, followed by bright red and blue, light filling in the distance.
''Mrs. Ross?''
A lady with light black hair, and dark brown eyes, stood from her seat, in the waiting room, with puffy, tear stained cheeks, she approached the nurse, eager to hear what it was she had to say. The nurse smiled at her, then nodded her head. ''He's going to make a full recovery.'' she said. At the same time, the doors to the hospital pushed open, as Mr. and Mrs. Kent pushed inside. Worry and concern shared between them, as Mr. Kent was the one to speak.
''Where's Clark?''
Chapter Three
''I'm sorry Mr. Kent, no one by that name has been admitted this afternoon, we've only had two people admitted to the hospital today,'' she frowned. ''Is Clark your son?'' she asked. Jonathan nodded, as he shifted backward, Martha reaching for his shoulder, lightly touching it, as she met eyes with the nurse, the nurse who's bright smile had faded now.
''What's this all about?'' asked a new voice. A female voice. The voice of Mrs. Ross, Pete's mother.
''We're looking for Clark. He left the farm a couple hours ago, and hasn't returned yet. We figured he might've went somewhere with Pete.'' Mrs. Ross was already shaking her head before Jonathan could even finish. He stopped, allowing him to speck. However what she said next, wasn't what he wanted to hear. ''Pete was badly injured, he was found unconscious, on the side of the road, by the wheat farm, down the road from your farm. I don't know about you two? But the recent murder just happened there, I'd hate to assume they were messing around, and the killer didn't like that.'' she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. ''I'd hate to think Clark might be working alongside that murderer.''
''What are you talking about?!'' Jonathan barked. ''Do you even hear yourself, right now? In case you weren't aware, your son is here! Safe! Lying in a hospital bed, while mine might be-'' he didn't finish that sentence, his eyes fell from in front of him, Mrs. Ross shifted uncomfortably, as the nurse suddenly chimed in, pushing herself past the rest, clutching her clipboard closer to her chest. ''We will alert you as soon as we hear anything, you'll be altered as soon as he's admitted. In the meantime, my advice would be to check in with the police, maybe there's been a report made already, or maybe he's there? Sitting safe at the police station, waiting for you? I wouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly.'' her frown remained on her face from the remainder of the rest of her sentence, as she guided Mrs. Ross away. Jonathan looked like he was going to say something, but Martha silenced him, with a hand on his shoulder.
''I have a really bad feeling about this.'' he whispered. ''I find it very unlikely he'd be at the police station.''
''Yes, I'm with you.'' Martha whispered.
Chapter Four
Clark woke to the sound of distant humming, and whistling sounds. They were distant, but familiar to him. The last vivid memory he had before passing out, was that creature. The creature who escaped The Phantom Zone. It attacked Pete, it rendered him unconscious from the use of the meteor rocks. But now, Clark was here. Alone. And Pete was no where in sight. His stomach dropped, as he shifted where he sat. His wrists burned as he tried to move. Following the thick pieces of rope tied, tightly, around both his wrists, holding them together, he felt warm blood, then took a breath of what he hoped was fresh oxygen, though he pulled himself back, disgusted with the scent of old, dried blood. How long had he been here? Where ever was here? It was dark around him, the tiny bit of light he had, seemed to be coming from a small lantern. One that appeared perfectly designed to hold as much light, so long as the fire remained inside of it. The surface behind him was hard, reminding him of stone or brick. He had a few guesses but only two of them seemed to make the most sense.
Either he was in a warehouse, or someone's basement. His head throbbed, and his cheeks puffed up with warmth. He was burning, burning inside and out. How long had he been so uncomfortably hot? His eyes drifted, weakly, as sleep called to him again. Though with the pain he felt, all over, he didn't think sleeping was going to be as easy as it sounded in his head. His hands were tied together above him, tied to what he assumed to be a large pipe, something metal that chilled the sides of his fingers, as he brushed past.
With a blast of adrenaline he took his chance, and began to pull. He pulled against the ropes with all his might, all he could muster, but they wouldn't give. He tried again, tugging and pulling with all the strength he had in his body, however, his body was wounded, broken down still. He felt the patches of dried blood along his knee, the smell of metal pushing against his face. ''I wouldn't do that,'' a voice said. Surprised, he looked to the right of him, past the darkness, there she was. A thin girl with light blonde hair, and light green eyes, bound in the same way as him, but seemingly smaller rope used for her wrists. Although it was dark, Clark could see she had bruises around her cheeks, and her wrists were bloody. She must've been knocked out, this would've happened to Pete, had he not sliced his palm open with the piece of meteor rock.
''You'd be wise, to just stay still, the creature doesn't like movement.'' she whispered.
''What're we doing here? What is this place?'' Clark asked. ''How long have I been knocked out?''
''You're asking too many questions,'' she hissed, softly. ''Take it slow. Start with one.'' she eased.
''Okay,'' Clark shut his eyes, then reopened them, allowing fresh air to refill his lungs, as he started with his first question. ''What are we doing here?''
''We've been taken back here, by that creature. What it plans to do with us, that I don't know. But I don't think that creature is the one responsible for the recent deaths...'' she whispered.
''You don't, then who is?''
''There has to someone, or something else involved in this mess. From the way these ropes are tied, I'd assume a human tied them. I think a human has been using the creature, to pull off these murders? Or to place the bodies once they're dead. I think he kills them, then leaves the evidence to the monster.'' she finished. ''I've been here for a couple weeks, though he hasn't shown himself to me, I've only been able to hear him. Sometimes.''
A human alliance themselves with a creature from the phantom zone? Why does that not surprise him? But how is the person controlling the monster? From what Clark's seen, the creatures were locked up, they wished for freedom...so why would this creature be following the orders given to it by a human? It didn't make sense. Clark felt his body burning up again, his cheeks smelled of smoke, and he could've sworn he smelled a pile of ash, somewhere close by. Suddenly he felt another wave of adrenaline, a wave that told him he was still alive, and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in the side of his head. His head was still throbbing, from something he wasn't sure what. The girl's words circled around each other in the back of Clark's mind, as for several moments, a brush of cold air came towards him.
''Easy, I think your suffering from a fever.''
''No, I-I don't get those.'' Clark replied.
''What, you some kind of alien or something? Of course you get fevers, we all do.'' she replied. The surrounding area smoulders before him, the scent of metal and thick, burning, plastic covered the once fresh layer of clean oxygen. Clark felt his throat tight, as he slowly scooted a little ways from where his back leaned against.
''I advised you to remain still,'' the girl said. ''The creature can sense your movements, if you don't stop now, you're going to be the next new victim.''
''Oh yeah,'' Clark whispered, continuing to get as far away as he could from the chilling metal pipe. ''Not if I can get out first, he'll have to catch me first.'' Clark smiled, weakly. The girl seemed to be rolling her eyes at him, sighing as she shifted backward, her head pressed against the back wall, in a sort of annoyed, mood. ''Where do you think your going to go, with that piece of rock in your leg?'' she choked. Clark paused, freezing with his eyes glued to her. He felt like his heart had stopped beating, as no air piled into his lungs. ''What did you say?'' he asked, shock and surprise burning his throat. ''That piece of green rock? Don't you see it? Right there.'' The girl moved her head to the direction of the rock, as Clark tried his best to follow where it was she was trying to get him to see. A couple seconds passed, and Clark spotted it. The back of his leg, his right leg, following closely behind with veins. Light green ones, indicating he had kryptonite inside his blood stream. The shard wasn't big, but it wasn't small either, medium sized seemed better. It was glowing, though he seemed to be the only one who could see it glow. He wasn't able to touch it, but felt the burning and warmth coming from it. No wonder he wasn't able to pull the metal pipe from the wall, the first time he tried, his strength was gone. Right now, he was no different than that girl.
''We-we need to get out of here! Now!'' he shouted. ''Be quiet!'' the girl shouted, her voice sounding over his own. He felt sweat around his eyes, around his cheeks, more around his forehead, how he wished to be back home, back home with Pete and his parents. He should've listened to his mom. He should've at least told them what to do if something should go unexpectedly. ''I told you, why don't you care to listen?! We aren't going to be able to untie these knots, their tied to well. I thought you would've realized that by now, seeing as your wrists are bleeding just as freely as mine.'' she choked.
''Now, please stop wasting what's left of your voice, on a situation that's literally impossible to escape from.''
''I regret nothing.'' Clark whispered, turning his eyes, as sleep pressed against him, again.
''That would be because you're starting to forget what you're supposed to regret. Which means the fever is getting worse. The longer that shard stays in your body, the faster your temperature will rise...I guess,'' she paused before continuing.. Clark couldn't see her anymore, but her voice, he could hear her voice. ''Give my regards to the devil.'' she seemed to be crying now, which caused Clark to become sick. He hated hearing people cry. Mostly because he was powerless to help them.
''You're not going to die here...'' he whispered. I'm Clark, by the way.'' She sniffled as she stopped crying. Though Clark wasn't sure how long he could get her to stop, soon he'd be unable to help himself, let alone her as well.
''I'm Sarah...Oh, and remind him that he still owes me fifty bucks for helping him out that one time.'' she was laughing while crying now. Clark had his eyes closed now, though he used all the strength he did have, to hold on. Hold on to her voice, as he said again.
''You're not going to die here, Sarah.''
Sarah
There were a lot of things she imagined could've gone wrong that day, but being stuck, tied to a water pipe in some serial killers basement, wasn't one of them. The experience would not be plentiful if she ever managed to escape to tell someone. Her mind sunk though she was relieved, the pain in her head eased throbbing, and the headache she'd once experienced seemed to give her some time with peace. The silence around her seemed to spread throughout her limbs though, with the darkness consuming her from the inside out, she bit down on her lower lip with her two front teeth, drawing out the burning, as tension began to rise. She was sore, she was tired, she wanted sleep, but couldn't seem to find it so long as her own dried blood stained glued, stuck sticky to her skin.
She knew Clark couldn't see her because of all the darkness, the boy she was stuck down there with, though she couldn't seem to keep her eyes from the sight of him, she had a better view then he did. He looked to be asleep now, either that or the fever had claimed him, from the sweat she could see forming around his forehead, and brow, the bright shade of pink surrounding his under cheeks, she was sure that was what had happened. Since her time being there, she hadn't yet been privileged to see the creature responsible yet. Responsible for their capture, their wounds, their torture, which caused her heavy amounts of frustration. She was sure she'd die there, alone, if Clark didn't wake up soon to keep her from going mad. Without someone to talk to, surely she'd be gone within in the next two days.
She shifted her weight to the left, allowing a fresh painful memory to hit her, the memory of her capture. That day, how it played over in her mind for hours, since she'd first woken up there, three days in passing. Everything had started at her mother's shelter. She'd been in the kitchen, alone, while her mother ran out for some things. Sarah had been in charge of unpacking and loading up new, fresh, supplies that needed to be shipped off to the other shelters across the country. However she'd never gotten that chance. The memory of the heavy boxes weighing down on her arms, felt recent, how her bones ached and only got worse the more she struggled to lift them. This wasn't just a job for one person, maybe her mother knew that, and hoped she'd get captured. Anything to rid herself of her bastard, fatherless, daughter. Sarah tightened a grip around the ropes binding her, as her mind concluded that thought. A part of her wanted to believe it wasn't the truth, but since her father's death. her mother wasn't the same. She knew that better than anyone else, who claimed so.
She had heard the footsteps, the soft, shallow growl of the creature, before her mind could form a plan to get to the door, to get out into safety, before she knew what to do, the creature had a hold on her. Teeth barren down sinking into the side of her neck, though only to weaken, not to eliminate. So quickly. That was what this basement was for, she'd figured. To prepare fresh victims for recent corpses, the creature would then be ordered to drop and leave around corners of SmallVille. Someone, a human she figured, wanted to make a statement.
A message?
Starting with Sarah and Clark, but they wouldn't be the end. Not as long as the creature and its master were allowed to roam free even after their deaths. Clark might make it out, but not with her help. The shape she'd been in when first waking up after the attack, had her wrists tied together, then tied with ropes, around some old water pipes, multiple pipes could be seen travelling along the back walls. If you really wanted to see them, the job would be easy. The trousers she'd been wearing, stained with mud front to back, stared at her from across the basement. They'd been hung up with one single nail. Her left knee was bruised and covered with red blood, as the scent of it burned her nose, as it travelled past her cheeks. Her eyes were light, uncomfortable when the light decided to sneak up on her, following with the sound of heavy, close by footsteps, sending waves of nerves, and dreadful terror to wash over every still living cell in her body. She sank back, her head against the wall, hoping the darkness would do enough to hide her, to hide the sight of her, but to her surprise, a door opened, and the footsteps she'd once heard turned soft. A short, soft, whistle, wavered above her, as she froze. As the person approached, her eyes lingered at the sight of him. A young man stopped in front of her. Then a smile appeared on his young face. He knelt down in front of her now, draping across his knees, with the black tail of his black suit. The hair on the back of her neck, rose, which caused the man to tense, waiting for him to speak to her, felt like years, though as minutes passed by, he finally did. ''I've come here, to release you.'' Sarah's mind wavered as she stared at him. Surprise mixed with terror and shock, the fear he was lying to her. She turned her head, directing her eyes to where Clark was. Still unaware, still tightly pressed eyes, closed. Through the heavy amount of darkness, from the poor lighting, she could see on his face, his pained expression, he wasn't lying.
Her chances were slim, if she didn't take what he was offering her, there might not be any room left for escape. She didn't want this, but she wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not ever. It was escape or death. and she wasn't ready to meet the grim reaper, quite yet. ''Please.'' she whispered, tugging at the tightly tied ropes binding her wrists, causing blood to escape from her body, ''Please, get me out of here.'' she was crying now, without even noticing she was doing it.
''It's okay,'' he replied. He leaned forward, closely, and began un-tying the ropes. The binds that smelled of blood, and wet metal, dropped to the floor, next to her, as Sarah's gaze escaped from the darkness that had once caught her from above. She was finally able to move after being tied for so long, she felt a little groggy at first, once she forced herself to stand. She was slow, but seemed to catch her footing after a couple seconds. Then before she could find any room for regret, or hesitation, she was off. Kicking the man with all the might she could master, sending him falling to the ground below. As quickly as she could move, she found her footing on the last, bottom step, and ran up them. The thought of Clark being left there, stabbed at her, but once she got help, once she told people where to look, he'd be rescued. She wiped the blood from her cheeks, and from the side of her blood, now staining her fingertips with bits of still wet blood, once she made it to the top of the stairs, she heard panting below, which told her to run again, to keep going, though how wrong she'd been to think alone. Small short growling followed, ending behind her, as it caught her from the front. The creature had its teeth pressed into her neck, for the second time, however this time, it meant to kill her. It meant to wound her, to wound her till she was forced to stop moving, till her last breath would escape her, leaving behind a lifeless corpse. She was going to end up like the others, like the others, just a corpse. And no one would ever know how hard she'd fought. Sarah was on her knees now, blood dripping from the wound, the creature even though it had her, still kept the hold on her, if not tightened it. Her spirit seemed to loosen, almost like she was fading. Weeping softly, she whispered.
''He promised.''
''Who did?'' the man from downstairs, the man dressed in black, with the young face, and emotionless face, joined at her side, a hand held down on her shoulder so she could not think to try to move. ''Clark.'' she breathed though her vision was blurred. ''He promised-he promised I-I wasn't going to, to die.'' her voice was pausing, cutting, as her strength vanished, she was weak, and fading fast. Suddenly and without thought she was pulled from the creature, feeling the teeth break from her skin, tearing the flesh to pieces, as she was dragged across the floor. Then dropped, left to rot in the middle of that floor, as the man's eyes, told her her truth. ''Choose your last words, wisely.'' he sneered. Sarah shakily shook her head, eyes filled with sadness, through the night inside, shined through just as powerful, as she neared her final moments.
''Don't kill him.'' she breathed. ''Otherwise, the ghosts from your past, will never stop desiring your soul.''
''Really?'' he raised an eyebrow at her, a wide smile appearing on his face, so wide it almost looked like the corners of his mouth would tear into his cheeks. Though that never happened, because she was gone before she could say anything else. ''The world belongs to me... Lex Luthor and I have a packed.''
Once the deed was done, Lex was already on his feet again. The creature, stained with Sarah's blood, cocked its head to the side, staring at Lex with its lifeless, disgustingly light coloured eyes. Lex nodded then cocked his head, staring at the remains of Sarah's corpse. ''Get rid of it.'' he hissed. The creature was off, punching off the ground, with a gust of wind, as it appeared at Sarah's side. ''And don't let anyone see you, no more accidents.'' he barked. Lex turned, then headed down the stairs, down to the basement, shutting the door behind him.
''You're a psychopath.'' a voice whispered, though Lex was the only one able to hear it. ''I prefer creative.'' he said back. ''Creative? or murderer?'' the voice replied. As Lex neared the bottom, he stopped on the third last stair, his eyes blank, as he cuffed both hands over one another. He smiled a little, though he wasn't sure he'd meant too.
''You're a manipulator.''
''And what does that make you? You aren't exactly an angel, yourself, Alexander.''
''They'll see through you, if not, Clark will! I know he will!'' Lex felt himself smiling wider now, his cheeks were sore and ached as his body forced that smile. He wasn't in control. He wasn't the one responsible. Sarah's blood wasn't on him, but the phantom. The creature, it had a hold on him.
''Don't play games with me, Alexander? Don't ever think you're capable of that, don't think anyone will ever hear you...'' his voice was lower now, a pitch of darkness edged at the back of his throat, he couldn't see it, feel it, feel every single word said out loud, though it wasn't him who was speaking any of it. But the phantom who'd possessed him. ''You let me violate your justice, you allowed me to violate and control your body, you let me desecrate what and who you loved. You let me penetrate your soul, even now, my hold on you is just as powerful as it was on day one! When you found me during that meteor shower, you allowed me to complicate who you are, though you're much more aware of it now, then you were then. Such a child inside a man's body. You still think anyone is going to be able to free you?
I own you
I own who you are, Alexander Luthor, you can't fight me, you can't even fight against yourself.''
The sting of burning, salty tears were rolling down his cheeks now, tears seemed to be the only thing he had control over, as the phantom had inhabited his entire body. Would anyone truly believe him after everything was finished? Would his friend support him even though it was hard to understand? Would he still have a friend in Clark Kent, even though everything that has happened? ''Foolish child, thinking the stain of your sins could be washed away with a little tears? Come now, do not cry.''
'''Shut up! Just shut up!'' Lex was shouting now, yelling, but the only result of it, was being able to hear his own words, as they came back to him. No one was hearing him. He was buried far down.
''Sarah? Sarah-''
''Clark?''
''I knew what you were from the beginning. I could smell the blood. You were born to spill blood, boy?''
''Please, please, stay away from him!''
''We are the outcasts, the broken, trapped alone in the realm of phantoms, but today, we truly found a place to belong.''
Chapter Five
Clark squirmed, letting out an alarming cry through the small, tight, gag tied between either corners or his cheeks. He struggled a few times, inching his head over to one side, hopeful to see his friends dark colored eyes, but letting out frustrated gasps of pain, he was defeated and unable to keep on trying. Mostly because his cheeks burned like boiling coal, and his lips were cracking slowly, but the tight knots he was forced to bite down upon in order to keep the gag tightly secured. This was a whole new low, the gag had been new, meaning he was in more greater danger if he didn't escape soon.
He groaned as the sides of his head throbbed painfully, sharp and steady at first, though clammy and wet a few minutes later. He felt drowned, almost feverish? As Sarah stayed hours before. His wrists were no longer bleeding, though the smell of fresh blood still lingered in the air above where he sat. How he urged himself to just use his power, no matter the cost of the pain. But as he shifted forward, his eyes dropped, then his head went up in more frustration. The motor rock. Better known as Kryptonite. Yep, it was still where it had been hours before he'd passed out to sleep. The meteor had gotten there during the battle with the creature, Clark had to be sure of it, how else would a medium sized piece of rock be able to find a new home inside his body, without him being able to notice.
perhaps that was why and how he'd been taken down so easily. Why he felt the weight of his strength vanish. His thoughts turned to dust, as beats or sweat dripped down his forehead, down the side of his head, mixing with the skin of his cheeks. Hopeful, he thought of Peete. Thought of his best friend, the one who got out. The one he saved, happy now that it wasn't Peete going through what he was. If he died, Clark wasn't sure he'd be able to recover from it. The fever seemed to be at its strongest in the night, the strange hourly difference caused confusion for Clark. At this moment, he wasn't sure how long he'd remain conscious for, till his body told him to sleep more. And if he didn't obey what his body demanded, he knew he'd feel the pull from his eyelids, forcing closed, as he saw himself still trying to fight, however at this weak with the strange fever still painting him, making him feel as if he'd been sitting in a sauna for hours, would be a difficult task all on its own. Soon, there would be no more fighting.
And still given everything he still hadn't seen the face or the voice of the person responsible for kidnapping them. Himself and Sarah. Who as he bit his lip to try and focus even past the pain, caused worry to creep up on him. There had been no sounds or noises from her direction, nor did her eyes make out other dimly colored eyes past the blanket of shadows in those corners.
The fever remained still, as a few minutes passed above his head. It grew so slightly, and caused flame in his eyes, and for a split second from all the pain, he thought this was the end. Clark was going to die. He shook his head at the powerful thought, fearful and frightened. Hopeful to get home, hopeful to escape and see his parents. To see Peete, to see Chloe, to see Lana, but most importantly to see the love on his parents' faces, seeing for themselves that he returned alright. That he had returned alive, just like he told them he would. He only prayed the fever would kill him first, instead of the kidnapper. Painful torture? Or sickened infection? Clark will take door number two...he thought, which resulted in a tiny, breakable smile.
"This all could've been avoided, had she just stayed in the basement!" Barked a voice. Clark's attention shifted and he gazed over, drawing his eyes to the top where be noticed the set of perfectly arranged stairs. He sighed loudly, letting out a much needed breath, as he shifted back, his fingertips running along the cool, tint of the water pipe, in which the knots were circled around. Anything for base and strength, he never moved his fingers from that spot. He shifted his eyes to the side now, gazing and searching for Sarah, the vertical branches of pipes and wires traveled along the back walls of the medium -sized room. Generally merging in a single return pipe in which was connected to the two long running pipes, connected to the boiler. No wonder Sarah hadn't felt the coolness of the chilling breeze, the boiler was giving her its heat, while Clark was left freezing with warm sweat cooling his pale colored cheeks.
The voice he picked up on before, circled around in the back of his mind. It was male sounding. Quiet and confident all at the same time. He was beginning to feel like a prisoner, as the captor was some kind of royal saint, Clark being the slave, or convicted criminal? He felt more like a visitor in his throne room rather than a man tied to a basement wall, with bloody ropes. In the corner, pressed against the cold, material that was the stone walls, Clark could see three perfectly shaped pieces of rock. All greased in which seemed to be pools of dark stained shadows, that covered the base of all three surfaces. Two of them appeared to be mixed with granite, the last seeming straight with chucks of blue, red, and green. All shapes of different sizes, but placed in multiple different spaces all along the rocks front.
Kryptonite. Clark thought. This had to be what was being used on the corpses, when the police had found the recent body out in that wheat field. So? The kidnappers are experimenting with the meteor rocks, creating nuclear paint, and painting their victims faces, hopeful for some paranormal result? Clark shifted his shoulders, his mouth was dry, and he craved for some water, but he was proud of himself for coming up with something. Something that could become some vital information for the police, for the sheriff herself, once he escaped.
Awhile later, came the sound of furniture crashing above him, against what he thought to be title flooring, which startled him. He tried to pull against the ropes for the third time, blinking rapidly as to drain away the beats of sweat covering his under eyes. Startled by the sensations now waving through him, Clark motioned forward, then gasped. The smell of toxic chemicals, and rotten eggs, drowned him, though he never took his eyes away from the image of a towering, rotating, yellow teeth stained creature. Its face cooled with white paint, giving away from the bowels of two empty, black, eye sockets. Clark gave out a painful gasp, then a cough that burned the back of his throat, as his tired, sleep craving green eyes, froze. The creature only stood, without eyes, Clark wasn't sure if the creature was staring into him, or if he was just getting closer, in order to smell the dry blood covering the once thick, brown ropes.
Suddenly something other than the creature, startled him. Startled by a noise suddenly close by to him, he stopped staring at the creature, and turned, his expression clearly too stunned to realize who had caused the noise. When he did, when he was able to make out the shape of the well dressed clothes, and rounded head, he'd realized. Then the voice all made sense. For a moment, he seemed surprised, too shocked to do anything, but sit there, sit there and stare at the man responsible.
Then as if on cue, the gag in between his lips, slowly fell from where it had been tied around his head, allowing him greater amounts of oxygen. He shut his eyes tightly, then routinely, and rightly opened them again. "I should've guessed, it was you. Tina.''
Chapter Six
Then as if on cue, the gag in between his lips, slowly fell from where it had been tied around his head, allowing him greater amounts of oxygen. He shut his eyes tightly, then routinely, and rightly opened them again. "I should've guessed, it was you. Tina.'' Clark's expression hardened, stunned still though at the sight of the well dressed, tear like suit and matching pants, accompanied by greasy, shining, leather shoes. Tina Greer was back, Tina Greer, the meteor infected teenager who'd been obsessed with Lana Lang. She had returned a year and a half ago, and still she only returned to get back at Lana. But here she was for the third time, however this time, she was back, back and using her shapeshifter ability to morph into Lex Luthor. A good friend of his. Here she was, standing to the side of him, wearing Lex's face. ''Why are you doing this, Tina!'' Clark barked, baring his teeth, as the fever continued to worsen. He recognized the crazed look past the shadows, as Tina came from the darkness, glimpsing of her face, sent shivers down Clark's spine. He narrowed his eyes, and his cheeks turned hot again.
He'd recognized that same expression anywhere. It had been the exact same, when Tina and Clark had faced off the second time, she made a comeback. But something sharper stabbed at him. Something darker wavered past the cool, light, colouring of Lex's eyes. The pit in his stomach suddenly became bigger, and he found himself gasping for air, as beats of sweat rolled down both sides of his head, he tried to focus on Lex, but his eyes were too foggy to give him some clearance. His gaze suddenly lifted upwards, and he recalled the last vivid memory he had of the last time he'd seen his parents face. In the same spot they were, before he disappeared through the doorway. How he missed them. How the fever pained and burned him from the inside out. How the wound in his leg made his blood boil, as the scent of fresh, wet blood, came rolling down, he felt the dark stains absorbing itself into the pant leg of his light coloured jeans, ''Why are you doing this..'' he asked, soft, and slower, as his eyes softened. The pain was starting to become something he wasn't able to ignore anymore.
''Oh. Clark, I'm not Tina.'' Clark's eyes shifted, as his body started to shiver. He tried to hug himself, he tried to get the warmth back inside him, but because of his damaged wrists, and the tight knots keeping his hands secured. ''Hey, Clark? Hey?'' Clark could hear Lex's voice lingering, shouting at him, but the sound was swallowing, the sound was drowning. ''Clark!'' Hands pressed tightly, and hard, down on both his shoulders, weighing down on his body. Then he felt those hands pressing against his cheeks, Lex's hands felt soft, and smelled of coffer metal, and fresh blood. Lingering with his light coloured eyes, Clark noticed at the edge of his neck, there appeared to be a wound, half healed, red and ashy. ''I am not Tina!'' Lex spat.
''Who-who are you, then?'' Clark paused, stuttered, and stammered, then tried to clear this throat. Lex looked at him, anger starting to build, the veins crept along the edges of his cheeks, as he took his hands away from Clark's face. Lifting his gaze, then drifting below, taking in as much detail of the bleeding, glowing, green, wound, along Clark's leg. His eyes narrow, then shifted at the sight of the meteor rock, it was launched and buried into the skin. It clearly didn't belong there. ''Did my minion do this?'' Lex said to no one in particular. ''I swear, first the girl, then you, and now this! He's done nothing but screw everything up!'' Lex was shouting now, though not at Clark. Something had angered him, something caused him to become anger, Clark wasn't sure what to return with?
Slowly and sure of himself he knew what to do next, Lex got to his feet, from where he kneeled, and turned his back to his friend. Clark stared up at him, only catching glimpses of his back, though the dark colouring of the suit he wore, caused his eyes some confusion. He returned up the perfectly placed spiral of stairs, and with a loud bang, piercing, pain filled, screams shook Clark, as pools of midnight blood came running down the stairs. The scent of it caused his nostrils to flare, then burn, as his eyes started to full up with water. He refused to blink as to avoid his fever becoming worse, though all he wanted to do was stand up.
A shadow like figure emerged, coming down the stairs, with a smaller, more visible being walking closely behind. The muscular, yet short, phantom seemed to be bleeding freely from a wound in his chest. His dark eyes glowed like demons, but filled with pain from his wound.
''Lex? Lex, what're you doing with that thing! You don't understand what you've been doing!'' Clark shouted, his voice drifting, though hopeful that Lex heard him. Lex became visible for the second time, returning to the spot in front of him, their eyes locking onto one another, as Clark's eyes filled with concern, he needed to explain. Even if it meant revealing everything he'd kept a secret.
Chapter Seven
''Lex, please,'' Clark begged. ''You need to get away from the phantom. It's done something to you, but I can help. Let me help you.''
''Help? Help me? You, Clark Kent? My best buddy in the whole world, wants to tell me about my own phantom? Tell me something,'' Lex paused, shifting his gaze from Clark's pleading eyes, to the creature standing awfully close behind him. ''How did you know to call it ''Phantom'' Lex breathed. ''The only way you'd know to use that word is if you knew where it came from? As if you've faced something like him before...''
''Lex please-''
''It's almost like you've been lying to me, again, Clark? Naughty, Naughty, Naughty,'' Lex whispered, biting his lip, letting a small smile come through his frightful speech, as he cut something deep inside Clark's stomach. Clark wanted to puke, he wanted warmth, he wanted the sting/burning in his wrists to ease, he wanted to be back on the farm with his family. Most importantly he wanted Lex to be okay.
''I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect you, keep you safe. My problems would only slow you down, hurt you more, haunt you, I never wanted to weigh you down with something you'd be unable to help with, Lex. You're only one man, Lex.''
''And what does that make you, Clark? Umph? Are you outing yourself to me, now, Clark? Are you trying to come clean about something, perhaps let's start with what happened on the bridge? I hit you, didn't I?'' Lex spat. Clark tried to nod, but stopped as Lex's hand grasped a tight grip around his throat, forcing all air to seas from coming inside, cutting off his speech. ''I did! I did hit you! I knew it! And you said I was crazy, you made me feel crazy, everyone treated me like I'd lost my mind! But in reality,'' Lex's voice cooled, and he drifted into a short pause. ''In reality, I knew what I'd seen to be real. It wasn't a fake, I wasn't insane.
"Lex-" Clark choked. He checked back his tears, his hands were trembling and he felt to his stomach, then came relief. The strong grip around his throat disappeared, which his breath became quick, and fast paced.
"Lex, I didn't mean any of this. I didn't mean to make you feel that way, I was trying to be a friend." Clark's voice was shallow and sickening as he tried to speck. His throat felt like it was going to collapse, as every shallow, turned to dust, and stung. Sweet and burning, he coughed, releasing spit and hot tears rolling down his eyes. "Lex...please...I can still help you.."
"Its to late for you to help me, Clark...There's more than one Phantom in play," He felt panicked and sick to his stomach, uncertain what to say next. None of Lex's words registered, nothing but the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. Clark groaned then dropped his head to the side, sweat covering the under of his cheeks. In an attempt to free himself, he pulled against the ropes, only when he felt Lex close in on him, did his eyes drift back. His expression straightened then he coughed again. Then before he knew it, his body began to shake. He was shivering with the scent of death crossing up and down where he sat.
Lex's light coloured eyes transformed. Innocent colouring with small amounts of power; transformed before Clark's very eyes. "I am the real Lex Luthor. Just had some work done." He seemed to smile at this, as if his joke was funny. But Clark wasn't laughing, he was wincing, but the more he tried to focus on something other than the pain, he felt like the pain was only increasing. Biting at his leg, causing the meter rock to brighten with brighter colour, bright shades of emerald green flashing.
Lex's eyes reflected nothing but soulless ravens. Eyes like black pearl, shallow and deep like the aqua ocean. They looked like something out of a horror movie. Something shaped like the demons themselves. Clark bit his lip, as he found his words. The conclusion was, Lex Luthor held a Phantom inside his body...possessing him. This was going to be more challenging than he first thought.
Chapter Eight
Midnight crawled across the windows in the basement, though Clark had been tied up too long, to even notice, if it was day or night. Lex had been down there with him a few times, that day, but seemed to leave him in the middle of the night. His head throbbed and the headache he felt forming, only caused small whimpers and groans, mixed with painful coughs, escaped his dry, burning throat. His back was sore, his spine twisted from sitting so long, and his legs felt like they were cramping from being still for so long. The meteor rock burned and cooked his flesh, the whole area seeming to burn, though there wasn't any true mark left behind. At least none he human eye could make out. Clark opened then shifted his gaze, his eyes were barely opened, but the light from the basement's ceiling was just about all the light he could bare, which didn't seem to be too much, though to him, it shone like the sun itself. The back of his skull throbbed, causing him to curse under his breath. How he wished to inspect the damage, expect there was still the problem at hand, he couldn't move. He was still tied to the rusted, water pipe. He was still immobilized. The violent hum of electricity streaking through the air, caused his ears to burn. Resulting in what appeared to be a small ringing sound. Then as he opened his eyes up the rest of the way, his face flashed, allowing light blue, electric sparks to loom across his eyes.
''Lex!'' he started shouting. ''Lex, stop this!'' The electric blue vanished, and the leftover rays of colour remained, blinding him for a short while, till the humming around him disappeared with it. Replacing the humming sounds, was a grimace of agony. A steady dripping echo of liquid dripping from a leak in the ceiling, caused him to look up and over, it was in the same exact corner Sarah had been. She wasn't there, so it had to be coming from a different source. He tried to wrench his arms free, but felt too much pain, forcing him to halt. He smelled dried blood, and metal in the air, then smoke and ash. His lips parted, and his eyes softened. his cheeks were rosy, and sweat beamed from both sides of his face. He was soaked, but he only cared about the sudden new source of smells. The first smelled of smoke, the second, smelled of burnt hair, and flesh. Then rotting bones.
He snapped his head back, but stopped at the sudden impact of dizziness, then the nasua hit. His eyes spotted Lex, standing there, in the corner, his back turned to Clark, and his arms busy at work. He was tending to something, someone, or so it seemed. The smoke, the ashy smell, the smell of bones, and burnt hair? He'd been electrocuting someone. Clark's blood began to boil violently, as he gritted his teeth. Pulling on the ropes above his head, he pulled and pulled, ripping and ripping, though nothing seemed to come from it, which caused him disappointment, but failure wasn't an option now. He tried again, and again. yanking on the pipe, till he heard the sound of something busting. Then came the booming and banging of cool metal, hitting the cement floor under him.
He gasped and groaned, eyes rolling back into his head, as he let his head fall to one side. Nudging, so his face was pressed against his shoulder, he felt a new source of liquid, rolling down his wrists, more blood. His wrists were re-opened, and bleeding freely. He heard the soft sigh of someone, then following up with light footsteps. Hands were pressed all over him, pulling him up, and back against what he felt to be the wall of the basement. Before the ropes were forced back upon him, he took his chance, going for the jaw with the tip and edge of his elbow. He didn't have his kryptonian strength, but he had some strength alone, from simply being human. He took another chance, punching with his fist, connecting with the side of Lex's head. Lex groaned and cursed, biting his teeth, as he went to punch him back, one knock out would send Clark to sleep, Clark realized this, and sent another punch flying, quicker and aimed smoothly towards his target. He managed to get past Lex's best attempt to block him, and sent another punch to the other side of his head. He was down, as Clark tried to get himself to stand. His knees felt like jelly, and he bobbled around a little, before bending his knees.
''She's dead, isn't she?'' Clark breathed, closing his eyes, as words replayed in his mind. ''You won't die here.'' He'd told her so, he'd promised her, and from what he'd seen become of Lex, he was sure of it. He was sure, it was too late. Clark shifted back and forth, as he kept focused on keeping up with his balance. The meteor rock had him partially paralyzed which made the sting and burning slowly vanish, though his head still pounded, and his cheeks were still warm, his hands wavered out into the air, almost like he was imagining holding onto something to keep him upright. Below him, lay Lex. He was bleeding from the two new wounds, Clark's punches had caused, though he was down for very long. In a matter of seconds, he was up, and charging towards him. Clark braced himself, then kicked him right in the stomach, he thought for a moment, he had him, had him down, till a firm blow to the back of his head, caused his knees to buckle, sending Clark down without question. He broke out in cries of pain, as the full piece meteor rock shattered under his weight. Causing tiny shards to launch deeper into his leg, then the full rock ever could on its own.
''Take a second to reflect,'' he heard Lex say, as a shadow loomed over him. ''How do you think this is going to end? Surely, you didn't think you'd be making it out of here, a winner? Did you?'' Lex prided. ''To get out of here, a winner? You're going to have to kill me, you're best friend? Are you able to do that? Because...I don't think you are.'' Lex paused slightly, then smiled in amusement. ''It goes against everything you stand for. Kal-El.'' Clark lifted his head up, at the sound of his kryptonian name. He bared his teeth, and his fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles faded to white.
''I'm glad I finally get to see who you really are.''
''And what's that?'' Clark huffed, confidently yet weakly.
''A liar.'' Lex replied. ''You're a liar, and a fake. A fake son, and a fake best friend. You've never trusted me the moment we met, you don't trust me now? What kind of friendship can last with mountains of lies?'' he asked.
''I dunno.'' Clark whispered.
''Allow me to give you a hint,'' Lex brought his face down to Clark's level, with the scent of metal, blood, and puke, pushing past him behind, Clark figured the one responsible for the blow to the head, had been the other Phantom. The minion to the one possessing Lex. Had to be. ''It's not a good one.'' Lex finished.
''She's dead, isn't she?'' Lex's eyes cooled with surprise, then he narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head, mocking Clark's ability to care about others. ''Oh that girl? Yeah, she is, nice girl, though? To bad destiny just wasn't on her side. What can I say? She tried to escape, I couldn't let her bring the police back here, they don't get to destroy me.''
''I assume this is the phantom talking, and not Lex, correct?'' Clark asked. Clark saw those black, lifeless, raven-like eyes, for the second time, which caused his chest to pound, and his head to beat with the pain drowning out in the surface of boiling blood, and sore muscles. ''I'm going to stop you, you won't control Lex forever.'' he snapped.
''On the contrary? I've been here from day one. I've been here since the meteor shower, last son of krypton. Your friend just didn't know it, till I decided it was the right time to make my presence known to him. Then when the time was right, he surrendered all power over to me. However, I doubt he figured this was what I'd do with it.'' The Phantom licked its lips, as he blinked those soulless, black, eyes. Clark watched as the phantom's dark coloured eyes vanished, transforming, and returning to the light colour of Lex's original eye colour, then he shifted, and crossed his arms in annoyance. ''Take all the time you need, Clark, you're not going anywhere anytime soon! In fact, I think it's time to take a new host.'' Lex's smile grew wider, as he stammered himself across the floor, closer towards Clark. Clark's eyes widened, and as quickly as he could, he pushed himself to his feet, missing Lex in a second, though his vision blurred, as his head felt like bouncing rocks. An image of a soft, shaken snow globe, filling his thoughts. His head being the snow-globe, his brain being the inside object. He was on his knees again, moving with his hands pressed to the cement, as he tried to move himself forwards.
Before he knew it, the back of his heel was grabbed, and he was pulled back, in a gust of wind and smoke. The phantom had taken control again, making him twice as strong as Lex's original strength. Clark felt the grip on his body tighten. With the sharp daggers of the phantom's fingernails, he felt warm liquid working its way into the material of his jeans, absorbing, sending a scent of freshly drawn blood through the air. His nose twitched causing burning, as his eyes fogged up.
"Please, don't make this worse than it already is."
''Lex, Lex, NO!''
Clark grasped and groaned once he was flipped over, now on his back, his eyes rolled back into his head, frost danced along his lips, and his whole form shivered in faint spasms, all the fight inside him, vanished, leaving him alone and helpless. Sweet oblivion came to him, slowly and surely he accepted it. After a couple seconds, everything went blank, leaving everything in a black hue, pitch black, with sounds of pitch ringing coming from all directions. As minutes passed, his body eased, and went limp.