Author: J.A.K.
Rating: R- for real
life feelings and real life situations that aren't always PG-13
Summary: Clark is born
a Luthor; but the surprise doesn't end there. It also turns out that his father
is the most notorious mobster in the
nation. Fighting desperately for a forbidden love, he must also fight against who he is; as he is the son of a godfather.
Disclaimers: I don't
intend to make a profit off of this story; I only intend to entertain those of
like mind.
Author's Notes: This
story does have a ship, but I can't
say what it is until the next chapter. If some of you only read stories that
focus on your favorite character(s), I ask that you read the prologue to the
end so you can make sure you know who exactly I'm writing about. This is an AU
Smallville fiction, and though I don't see why anyone should have a problem
with it, I just have to be safe and say: YOU ARE WARNED! Enjoy!
^PROLOGUE^
The first rule ever realized by all members whom are directly linked to the
Luthor name, was, is, and always will be 'keeping the business of the business
in the family'.
I know the first question most might have after reading that admission would
be, what exactly was
"the business"; and to that, I had many different explanations
but only one true answer.
The business in itself could be spoken of in varying ways and conveyed to the
masses by any number of names, but the simplest term of identity I continually
thought of, was the one that I was positive most people knew.
The mob (the word mob actually being an extremely overused euphemism) was
referred to by most of the law as organized crime; and in organized crime,
there unfortunately always was a government appointed faction that tried to
undermine and bring down the association of said sought after blood relations;
but none of the many assemblies of the law that were out there has ever succeeded with this particular
group, to date.
Of course there were two crucial
reasons for that.
Number one was that, "the head"
played the game intelligently, and hadn't alerted any major 'cell busters' of
his illegal presence in the field. Number two was, no matter how the CIA, the
DEA, or the FBI might ever try to disband the enigma that is our family, they could never succeed; because no one can solve a
puzzle they don't understand. And no one can understand the mob unless they're
a part of it.
The mob in its own right wasn't merely a summation of the nefarious activities
that were carried out by various parties of consenting adults. The mob was a
lifestyle; a way of being, a way of acting, and a way of thinking. Once someone
became a part of the mob, they talked, behaved, and processed things
differently from everyone else who was on the outside of our world.
Yes, maybe it sounded
too deep for the more transparent of my lot, including those folks hearing all of this
for the first time, but I had been taught these basic principles from the
initial moment I could learn things on a developmental basis.
Admittedly, my current description of the mob made it sound like an exclusive
club that few were given access to, while many more wanted to join; but in fact
if I had had a choice of which life style I could pick, this definitely would
not be it.
It was a lonely existence for a seventeen year old boy whose father ran one of
the most notorious criminal organizations in the country.
It was even lonelier when all of
my peers seemed to know just that he did.
On a side though, my father was a brilliant man with an excellent cover; and
unlike many, who had thought themselves above the law, my father displayed no
signs of believing in such a philosophy. He wasn't exactly what one would call
a humble man, but he doesn't practice what he had once called the many reasons
why arrogance equaled death- an attitude which he believed brought great men,
even the distinguished Russian leader, Vyechaslev Sarafin, face to face with the iron clad doors of prison.
My father was far too clever for
that, and made sure that he had all bases wrapped up safely and conveniently
underneath every one of his manipulative fingers. In so doing, he managed to
make himself the very image of propriety, securing his rule with the
brilliantly assembled company of Luthor corporations: a legal and lucrative
franchise that made and explained away the millions of dollars that passed
daily through the fingers of almost every member of the immediate family. It
was because of this, I was certain that in the future, if not now, my father
would be referred to as de facto,
which meant boss of all bosses.
Maybe someday I would be able to force my lips to imitate the shape of a smile,
but for now I wanted nothing more but to do an internal heave at the thoughts
that were running through the forefront of my mind.
Because I was the descendant of an Irish-Italian
immigrant, whose son became the leader of an organization.
An organization that later built an empire; and an empire that crowned a man.
And as fate would have it, I was second in line to rule my father's kingdom and
first in line to make sure he would never reign.
Good ol'
reliable fate would also maliciously have it that I would be born a Luthor...
…and every single day I was sure that fate had gotten it wrong.
An part 2: Reviews are muchly appreciated and greatly adored!