Foreword: This isn't what I intended for the next instalment, but I simply couldn't reproduce the same kind of rush I had with the first two parts. The shift in storytelling may rattle you, but the story's still there. Trust me. It's just that Whitney needs some spotlight for his development. Unlike Smallville, I really need his presence for everything to work out.

Be warned: There's swearing here! But that's because I'm using the Spawn background for this instalment. I suspect that everyone in Hell is a bit of a potty mouth.

Like I said, the story will continue and the next instalment will be about Lana's big surprise. I'm also going to use Deanine's suggestion and that means dire implications for Clark... wait and see what I mean! To everyone who reviewed, my next instalment will be for each of you. Thanks.

Thank you for reading, if it gets your mind off crazy stuff and gives you a break, than that's the best reward I could ask for! Thanks. Please enjoy.



Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Smallville Character, Whitney Fordman and I'm using this characters likeness without authorisation of the Copyright holders. I am also using the Hell Spawn name without permission from the creators and copyright holders of Spawn. There's not point in suing me dudes, just tell me if you want the story down. I might listen...

As for Kane... he does whatever the Hell he wants, but he did nod when I asked if I could write about him. I took it as permission to use him here.



- Where Angels Fear To Tread... -


He woke up in gouts of agony.

Whitney screamed. Fiery explosions of pain ripped through every fibre of his body, it was tremendous! He was screamin' and yellin', twisting about like a fish on a hook - ugh, I swear I was about to drop dead from laughing so hard!

But then again, bein' dead's kyna redundant in this place. Thinking about that made me laugh even harder! You see I still had to let Whitney know that he was burnin' in Hell! I had to tell him why he was sent here as well! I love my job.

You're wonderin' who the hell's tellin' the story now huh? Who I am? Well I've given that Strange Reaper jerk off free reign over everything else - but this part of the story is mine.

My name's Kane Slater. I'm the master of the First Sphere of Hell. Part of my job is to greet new residents, like pretty boy Whitney over there. He's still screamin' for fucks sake! Like he's god damn Whitney Houston. It kinda pisses me off that I gotta save him for my master The Malebolgia. He wants to make this prick his bitch. A fuckin' Hell Spawn for cryin' out loud! All the powers of hell chucked on to the scrawny - mortal - shoulders of this little fucker!

It get's to me sure. Here I am, a hard workin' true native of hell and whaddo I get? Fuck all, that's what. He's stopped screamin'. Pretty boy's lungs must've exploded, I might be able to go tell him the good news now...



- Where We All Might End Up -


Whitney couldn't believe he was burning alive.

Curling tongues of fire stung his flesh with searing, lingering pain. He struggled and thrashed about, trying to leap out of the fire. But the fire grew larger forbading him to leave, so it could continue to eat him alive.

"Relax pretty boy, it'll be all over in a second"

Whitney couldn't have even heard the voice. Instead, he switched from screaming to yelling for help.

"No one's gonna help ya here kid" The voice informed him. "You're on your own"

Whitney pleaded on and on. But the voice was right. The fire just burned him like a candle wicker. But then, in a heartbeat, all the flames died down. They became small flickers dancing all around where he was standing.

He squinted down on himself, expecting to see his flesh sloughed away and nothing but bare white bone shining through. Splitting his eyelids further apart, Whitney held a breath... and then let it out in shakey gasps of relief and fear. "What the hell..." He managed to say.

"What the hell in deed!" Came a mockingly cheerful reply from nearby. Whitney searched for the voice and his heart almost exploded from the new terror that shook through him.

He was standing in nothing. Darkness, alive and writhing like a pit of snakes lingered hungrily all around him. He seemed to be suspended in the middle of it, but Whitney couldn't reason how, he just screamed.

"Oh for crying out loud! I heard ya the first time! Shut up!" Then, the owner of the voice quite literally, slipped into view from out of nowhere. "Hi there girly-priss, name's Kane Slater!"

Kane was easily six foot two and had an athletic frame. His lithe torso was complemented by a shiny smooth looking shirt, with a leather jacket draped across the well defined lines of his broad shoulders.

Whitney immediately recognised that the grin he wore was out of place with his demeanour. His pallid complexion and the dead, icy look made him shiver involuntarily. A shell of thorny looking brown hair topped off the overall impression that Kane was a perpetual threat to anyone's safety.

But that cold, dead stare scythed straight through Whitney. For a fleeting second, it felt as if their two minds touched. But Whitney reeled from the contact. He got the impression of thousands and thousands of naked, pale skinned corpses, lying along a vast, never ending meadow. Spring time flowers blossomed amongst them, the full, radiant sun bathing it all in a motherly caress of warmth and light, the beauty of life, the decay and hollow abandonment of death existing side by side at the same horrible moment in time.

However it was just an image that came out of nowhere and forced itself through Whitney's mind, violating it like a peeping tom. But it lingered... for the simple reason that it seemed strangely familiar. The meadow looked like the same as the ones in Smallville.

"W-where am I?" Whitney asked.

"You're in Hell, burning alive" Kane replied matter of factly.

"What? You tell me where I am right now!" Whitney screamed. He was to tired to be scared anymore, everything became dull, flat and grey. The only thing that gave him energy, was anger.

"I love it when they don't shut up!" Kane exclaimed with glee, he swung his arms open as if composing a great oratory, imploring the darkness to cheer him on. Then suddenly, with savage speed he grabbed Whitney's arm.

Their minds definitely touched this time. In fact they collided into a forced fusion. Whitney twisted and tore at Kane's preternaturally strong grip but couldn't break it. He flipped and flopped like a fish on dry land.

"You listen to me" Kane began, every word crashing, reverberating through Whitney's mind. "Exactly no one cares about you right now, except for me. Your world is mine and I decide how you live your life from now on. Got that!" The telepathic yell of the last two words felt like a frosty ice pick lancing into Whitney's brain.

"Ahhh - Yes, yes! Stop!"

Kane grinned and tightened his grip until the bones in Whitney's wrist began grinding together. "What's the magic word?"

"Please! Please Stop!"

Whitney's arm fell by his side and Kane stepped back. "Nice little farm boy, good little farm boy" He jeered.

"What'd you do to me?"

"What're you squawkin' about?"

"Now, just then, how'd you do that?"

Kane sighed, ran a hand through his hair and drew a cigarette from his jacket. "You dumb ass" He said. As soon as the cigarette touched his lips, he inhaled and it ignited. He took a long, deep drag and puffed out the smoke. "Fuckin' amazin' ain't it? All natives of Hell use telepathy"

Whitney could feel his insides run cold. Everything he had been calling reality all his life, didn't work where he was now. Burned alive, seeing images in his mind, talking telepathically... perhaps this was Hell. "Why?" He asked meekly.

"Why're you here? Simple! You're a fundamentally bad person. The G-man judged you, told you to fuck off and here you are!"

"But why?"

"What'd ya do?" Kane leered at Whitney, as a predator does to prey. "You did a few things in your life, small shit, nothing you couldn't have been redeemed from... but that little hazing incident with Clark Kent and then breaking Lana's heart - now that's serious shit! Capital punishment!"

"How?"

"Fuckin' Hell Whitney, use some syllables if you're gonna ask me a question - I'm workin' with nuthin' ovah here!" He sighed dismally and continued. "Clark Kent's a big big man upstairs, the G-Man's got big stuff waitin' for him, but along you come and put your big fuckin' foot in the middle of it all. By stringing up Clark in that field... you just picked up a pen to sign your own after life death warrant. But the clencher came when you lost Lana's necklace and broke her heart by breaking her trust - ya sack full of pigshit you!" Kane chuckled.

"But... How?"

Kane's whole posture lightened up and he shuffled over next to Whitney as if he was about to share a big fat juicy secret. "The fuckers up in Heaven've got a few screws loose, they think that the world you came from's about love and trust. You ever break one of those than you've gotta - and I mean GOT TO, make up for it for the rest of your life. You ain't worth shit unless you've hauled your ass through it" Kane said, clearly contented and eager to express his point of view. His eyes shone.

"But... but, that's not fair!" Whitney said. "I was just starting to get my life together!"

"Too bad sunshine, G-Man says when your time's up. You live, you die because he says so. I guess you shouldn't have gone after Clark, you shoulda just let him take your girl and fucked off" Kane said considerately. "Too bad"

"What do you mean? I shoud've just let Clark take Lana? No! She's my love, only I can know how she needs to be loved! I was building our life together and we could've been together forever!" He raged. "I would've done anything for Lana, we were in love..."

"That's all nice and good, but Clarky's got her now" Kane said. He sidled off a few steps and indulged in an extra long drag of his cigarette.

"What!? No! He promised me he'd look after her while I was away!"

Kane cut him short with a burst of laughter. "You fuckin idiot! Oh yeah, I'll leave my girlfriend with a guy that wants her and then I'll go away for God knows how long and expect them both to stay friends? No, I don't think so" He said.

Whitney's insides turned to lead. His heartbeat dropped and he felt cold. "Clark... Clark did this to me! He takes my life, pretends to be my friend and then takes Lana - I'm here because of him! It's all his fault!" He raged, clenching his fists. "It's all his fault"

"I bet you'd like to see her again and get some revenge..." Kane said.

"What?" Whitney looked in pointed scrutiny at Kane.

"The ruler of Hell took one look at your case and immediately sort justice. So he's authorised me to make you this offer. If you agree to become a leader in his Hell borne army, a Hell Spawn, I can let you go back to Earth and see Lana! But once you've seen her, you must become a Hell Spawn"

Whitney gave it limited attention, he could see no downside, only the picture of Lana's smile. "Yes! Anything for Lana" He said.

"Good" Kane scowled. "You might even run into Clark while you're down there... don't hesitate to kill him"

"Anything for Lana"



- This Is What I Do For A Living -


That pussy Strange Reaper sure fucked that up. But at least he got the good stuff. Ya see what Whitney was burnin' in at the beginning was a Hell Fire. It's flames reached inside the poor schmucks body and gave him the power of a Hell Spawn! That's when the seeds were sown. He had no fuckin choice anyway! Heh heh!

Luckily Whitney was a dumb little fucker. All that shit about him pulling that fucking hilarious trick on Clark Kent was a load of chikenshit. I just needed to get him mad. You see I can't give someone the powers of Hell itself without making them a homicidal maniac. And those poor sluts that think there's such a thing as true loves are always the easiest peeps to fuck over!

By the time he gets back to Earth, all he's gonna want is Lana. Everything could burn to the ground and he wouldn't care as long as Lana was his.

This helps me kill two birds with one stone. Clark Kent might turn out to be Superman one day, but even the Man of Steel is completely vulnerable to supernatural powers. A Hell Spawn would have him for lunch! If Whitney's got any balls he'll kill Clark and stop him from interfering in Hell's little convention at Smallville. Superman will never exist, Hell would have a Spawn to lead it's army and we would invade Heaven!

Oh and we've got a little surprise for all of you on Earth... but I'll let our agents up there handle that... sleep tight. You'll be hearing from me again. Be sure o'that.