Pete Ross slumped on his couch in his room as he mindlessly pressed button after button on his PS2. This was... what? The thirtieth level? He didn't really care. Onto the next level! He mashed more buttons.
His mother, Abigail Ross, knocked on the door a split second before letting herself into her son's cluttered room. "Pete, there's a... how many times have I told you to clean up your room?"
"I'll get around to it, mom!" insisted Pete. "What is it? Other than the demand to clean my room?"
"Clark's on the phone. Sounds urgent," explained Abigail. She handed him the cordless phone. Pete pressed pause on his video game.
"Clark? Hey...! You back home yet?"
"Pete? Listen, yeah I'm home. But have you seen or heard from Edward?"
"Nah, man. Last I ever saw of him was at the Talon way back. Why?"
"I think he may permanently be a werewolf now. If my hunch is right, he'll be completely insane and have no control over his actions. He could hurt someone. Possibly even you."
"Uh... I don't know if this helps, but did you know his parents went missing?"
"No, I just got back home. I haven't had a chance to read the papers."
"Oh, it wasn't in the papers. Someone called my mom and she let it slip to me, probably thinking I knew something because I'm 'buds' with their son. She can be a bit air headed sometimes."
Clark rubbed his temple with one hand, holding his cell phone with the other. "Pete, if it wasn't in the papers and only your mom knew, why would you ask me if I knew that they were missing?"
"Hey, I'm kind of in the middle of something. I'm not thinking clearly. Anyway, go on, do your superhero stuff."
"We probably shouldn't be talking about this over a phone. Could be tapped."
Pete grinned. Old Paranoid Clark was still the same. "Good to have you back, Clark."
"Right. Bye, Pete." Clark hung up and probably zoomed off to somewhere. Who knew? Right now, Pete had some super speeding of his own to do in this game.
S
With a deafening whoosh, Clark arrived at the Drake residence not sure what to expect. There were to cars parked in the driveway – a jeep and a mustang – probably Edward's parents' cars. Clark switched to his x-ray vision and scanned the house.
Nothing. No signs of life, anyway.
Not convinced that the investigation here was to no avail, Clark snuck around to the backyard and shattered the lock on the back door. He entered silently.
Clark checked upstairs, and found Edward's room deserted, like everything was moved out. Every other room in the house showed no sign of moving, however. How strange this was.
He looked up and noticed a string dropping from the ceiling. For a moment, Clark was confused, then realized it was the attic. He pulled the string down, revealing the folded stairs. Clark climbed up to the attic.
Still in x-ray vision, Clark looked around and found several boxes containing things that he'd seen in Edward's room the last time he had been there. It were as if his parents had given up hope that he would ever come home and decided to make the most of it and pack up. It didn't exactly give off the warm, kind image that his parents gave him, but did resemble the more cold-hearted love Eric Summers had been given.
Clark looked down and exactly looked to many levels deep. What he saw made him gasp in horror.
He saw a skull lying just inches away from the rest of its body.
Gulping back the bile, Clark got up and moved away, took a deep breath of the musty mothball smell of the attic, (regretted it,) and ran at super speed down to the kitchen. He found a door that led to the basement. He cursed himself for not have seeing the basement when he first inspected the house from outside. Maybe he was more shook up from the events in Ireland than he originally had thought.
Clark descended down into the basement, using his heat vision to burn off the occasional cobweb in the way. The unmistakable stench of blood overwhelmed his super human nose and nearly forced him to throw up. He was thankful that he had a stomach of steel, but it wasn't really making much of a difference right now.
There, on the floor, were two bodies. One had had its skin and flesh ripped off, nowhere in sight. The other body had a long slash across the neck and seemed to be preserved for a later meal.
"Oh God..." moaned Clark. "That's just sick..."
"I'm hurt... Clark..." uttered a low, scratchy voice from behind. Clark turned around to find himself face-to-face with Edward in wolf-man form. "Let's... see what else... you can do..."
Edward grabbed Clark by his flannel shirt collar and threw him through the ceiling and out the back wall. He landed hard on Sara Drake's garden.
"You put up... more of a fight... last time..." reminded Edward. Every effort to talk through his awkward wolf muzzle seemed strenuous – and with good reason. Why would a werewolf have reason to talk? "We have... unfinished business, Clark... So let's... FINISH IT!"
Clark got up and dusted off his jacket and nodded. "Let's."
Edward charged Clark, knocking him backwards, but Clark was quick and twisted his body around so that he landed on Edward. Edward howled in pain. "Lucky move... Kent."
Edward pulled back his feet and kicked Clark off of him, sending Clark soaring high and out of control. Clark landed headfirst on top of the roof. He found himself in an awkward position, with his left leg and head stuck through the roof and the rest of his body still outside.
"Ha, ha! That the... best you can do?" challenged Edward.
In a heartbeat, Clark was back on the ground and zooming toward Edward. He hit him at such a force that no human could have survived, but it effectively dazed his wolf man opponent.
"Enough with the commentary!" growled Clark. He punched Ed with his right hand. "It's just a fight between you and me!"
He dished out a left hook
"No one's here..."
Another right hook.
"...to listen to..."
He punched him across his chin.
"...your boasting!" Clark got up and lifted Ed by his hair (or fur). With all his strength, Clark hurled Edward away as far as he could.
The sun was setting. Good. Clark would need the cover of darkness. He rushed to the spot where Edward landed – an area of forest. There was a crater, but nothing else.
"AAARRRGHHHH!" yelled Clark in agony as ten claws sunk into the skin on his back and forced him to hit the ground face-first.
Edward pulled Clark over so that his back was on the ground. Then, he punched him with his right hand. Then with his left. And across his chin. Clark was bleeding profusely by the time the punch-fest had ended.
Slowly, Edward lowered his head and slammed the side of Clark's face onto the ground. Fangs wide open, Ed found the spot – it was to be a vampire-like bite, but no matter. He found his target. Just a few more centimeters and he'd be sinking his teeth into Clark.
"NO!" roared Clark. He kneed Edward in the stomach, tossing him off of him.
For a moment, they just stood their ground, staring at each other and panting. Exhaustion had sunk into both of them like the fangs Edward had intended to sink into Clark.
AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Edward leapt onto Clark, dropping him once again. He didn't wait around this time, though. Instead he leapt off and landed beside a tree. Summoning all of his strength, Ed yanked the tree's roots out of the ground and slammed the tree into Clark as he was getting up. He lifted the tree over his head and slammed it down on Clark again. And again. And again.
He didn't get another chance after that. Clark focused on the mightiest burst of heat vision he could summon – which to his surprise was a brilliant display of red, glowing, heat. The tree caught fire instantly and nearly disintegrated on the spot. Shocked, Edward let go, letting the tree slam on top of him.
Edward howled in pain, and watched helplessly as Clark walked over to his limp body. Just as Clark was about to pick him up, Edward inhaled deeply and blew out a tremendous amount of air, knocking Clark off of his feet.
Scrambling to his feet, Ed got up and rushed out of the forest, leaving Clark behind to stop the fire. With some improvisation, Clark was able to smother out the fire with his bare hands. One crisis averted, Clark got up to stop another.
Once again, Clark found himself returning at the Drake house. Edward unsubtly crashed in through the front door. Clark followed closely behind.
The chase ended in the kitchen. Edward pulled knife after knife and threw them at Clark. They bounced harmlessly off of his chest.
Edward roared. "Why... won't... you... just... DIE??"
Edward charged Clark, slamming him into the stove. Their impact ruptured a gas line, causing gas to leak into the air.
Clark coughed, "Edward! There's gas filling the air! We have to get out of here!"
Edward ignored him, grabbing every sharp object he could find in the kitchen and attempting to stab Clark with it. At last, he ran out of knives and slashed Clark across the chest with his claws. Even when all else failed, he still had his faithful claws.
"Edward!"
The gas was filling the entire house now. It was miracle it hadn't blown up yet. But Clark couldn't afford to take any more chances. He had to get Edward out of the house now.
Edward roared in frustration. Clark just wasn't losing blood fast enough. "That's it! Let's... see... you try... and stay whole... after your atoms are... splattered!"
"Edward, NO!"
Edward put his claw on the marble tabletop and scratched it – hard. A tiny spark was emitted.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
And the entire house erupted in flames. The only being that came out alive, albeit scorched and naked, was Clark Kent.
S
"I don't get it," murmured Pete after Clark had explained the fight to his parents and Pete in the Kent family kitchen. "Why would Edward go back to the house after you beat him up in the forest? You would think he would have gone and found somewhere where he would have an advantage."
"Maybe he did think he had the advantage in the house, Pete," smiled Clark. "He got the jump on me in the basement, tossed me through a concrete ceiling and a brick wall, and wasn't doing that bad while we were fighting in the kitchen. But he was trying to kill me, and I wouldn't stay still long enough to let him. He finally lost his cool – maybe he didn't think straight because of the gas – and decided to make one last ditch effort to try and kill me."
"But he didn't," smiled Jonathon Kent. "Good to hear your Smallville stubborn streak's what kept you alive."
"I don't care what it was – be it fate or miracle – he's home at last," praised Martha, enwrapping her son in a hug. "Now do you want chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal?"
"Right now, I think I want to go to bed," grinned Clark.
His mother, Abigail Ross, knocked on the door a split second before letting herself into her son's cluttered room. "Pete, there's a... how many times have I told you to clean up your room?"
"I'll get around to it, mom!" insisted Pete. "What is it? Other than the demand to clean my room?"
"Clark's on the phone. Sounds urgent," explained Abigail. She handed him the cordless phone. Pete pressed pause on his video game.
"Clark? Hey...! You back home yet?"
"Pete? Listen, yeah I'm home. But have you seen or heard from Edward?"
"Nah, man. Last I ever saw of him was at the Talon way back. Why?"
"I think he may permanently be a werewolf now. If my hunch is right, he'll be completely insane and have no control over his actions. He could hurt someone. Possibly even you."
"Uh... I don't know if this helps, but did you know his parents went missing?"
"No, I just got back home. I haven't had a chance to read the papers."
"Oh, it wasn't in the papers. Someone called my mom and she let it slip to me, probably thinking I knew something because I'm 'buds' with their son. She can be a bit air headed sometimes."
Clark rubbed his temple with one hand, holding his cell phone with the other. "Pete, if it wasn't in the papers and only your mom knew, why would you ask me if I knew that they were missing?"
"Hey, I'm kind of in the middle of something. I'm not thinking clearly. Anyway, go on, do your superhero stuff."
"We probably shouldn't be talking about this over a phone. Could be tapped."
Pete grinned. Old Paranoid Clark was still the same. "Good to have you back, Clark."
"Right. Bye, Pete." Clark hung up and probably zoomed off to somewhere. Who knew? Right now, Pete had some super speeding of his own to do in this game.
S
With a deafening whoosh, Clark arrived at the Drake residence not sure what to expect. There were to cars parked in the driveway – a jeep and a mustang – probably Edward's parents' cars. Clark switched to his x-ray vision and scanned the house.
Nothing. No signs of life, anyway.
Not convinced that the investigation here was to no avail, Clark snuck around to the backyard and shattered the lock on the back door. He entered silently.
Clark checked upstairs, and found Edward's room deserted, like everything was moved out. Every other room in the house showed no sign of moving, however. How strange this was.
He looked up and noticed a string dropping from the ceiling. For a moment, Clark was confused, then realized it was the attic. He pulled the string down, revealing the folded stairs. Clark climbed up to the attic.
Still in x-ray vision, Clark looked around and found several boxes containing things that he'd seen in Edward's room the last time he had been there. It were as if his parents had given up hope that he would ever come home and decided to make the most of it and pack up. It didn't exactly give off the warm, kind image that his parents gave him, but did resemble the more cold-hearted love Eric Summers had been given.
Clark looked down and exactly looked to many levels deep. What he saw made him gasp in horror.
He saw a skull lying just inches away from the rest of its body.
Gulping back the bile, Clark got up and moved away, took a deep breath of the musty mothball smell of the attic, (regretted it,) and ran at super speed down to the kitchen. He found a door that led to the basement. He cursed himself for not have seeing the basement when he first inspected the house from outside. Maybe he was more shook up from the events in Ireland than he originally had thought.
Clark descended down into the basement, using his heat vision to burn off the occasional cobweb in the way. The unmistakable stench of blood overwhelmed his super human nose and nearly forced him to throw up. He was thankful that he had a stomach of steel, but it wasn't really making much of a difference right now.
There, on the floor, were two bodies. One had had its skin and flesh ripped off, nowhere in sight. The other body had a long slash across the neck and seemed to be preserved for a later meal.
"Oh God..." moaned Clark. "That's just sick..."
"I'm hurt... Clark..." uttered a low, scratchy voice from behind. Clark turned around to find himself face-to-face with Edward in wolf-man form. "Let's... see what else... you can do..."
Edward grabbed Clark by his flannel shirt collar and threw him through the ceiling and out the back wall. He landed hard on Sara Drake's garden.
"You put up... more of a fight... last time..." reminded Edward. Every effort to talk through his awkward wolf muzzle seemed strenuous – and with good reason. Why would a werewolf have reason to talk? "We have... unfinished business, Clark... So let's... FINISH IT!"
Clark got up and dusted off his jacket and nodded. "Let's."
Edward charged Clark, knocking him backwards, but Clark was quick and twisted his body around so that he landed on Edward. Edward howled in pain. "Lucky move... Kent."
Edward pulled back his feet and kicked Clark off of him, sending Clark soaring high and out of control. Clark landed headfirst on top of the roof. He found himself in an awkward position, with his left leg and head stuck through the roof and the rest of his body still outside.
"Ha, ha! That the... best you can do?" challenged Edward.
In a heartbeat, Clark was back on the ground and zooming toward Edward. He hit him at such a force that no human could have survived, but it effectively dazed his wolf man opponent.
"Enough with the commentary!" growled Clark. He punched Ed with his right hand. "It's just a fight between you and me!"
He dished out a left hook
"No one's here..."
Another right hook.
"...to listen to..."
He punched him across his chin.
"...your boasting!" Clark got up and lifted Ed by his hair (or fur). With all his strength, Clark hurled Edward away as far as he could.
The sun was setting. Good. Clark would need the cover of darkness. He rushed to the spot where Edward landed – an area of forest. There was a crater, but nothing else.
"AAARRRGHHHH!" yelled Clark in agony as ten claws sunk into the skin on his back and forced him to hit the ground face-first.
Edward pulled Clark over so that his back was on the ground. Then, he punched him with his right hand. Then with his left. And across his chin. Clark was bleeding profusely by the time the punch-fest had ended.
Slowly, Edward lowered his head and slammed the side of Clark's face onto the ground. Fangs wide open, Ed found the spot – it was to be a vampire-like bite, but no matter. He found his target. Just a few more centimeters and he'd be sinking his teeth into Clark.
"NO!" roared Clark. He kneed Edward in the stomach, tossing him off of him.
For a moment, they just stood their ground, staring at each other and panting. Exhaustion had sunk into both of them like the fangs Edward had intended to sink into Clark.
AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Edward leapt onto Clark, dropping him once again. He didn't wait around this time, though. Instead he leapt off and landed beside a tree. Summoning all of his strength, Ed yanked the tree's roots out of the ground and slammed the tree into Clark as he was getting up. He lifted the tree over his head and slammed it down on Clark again. And again. And again.
He didn't get another chance after that. Clark focused on the mightiest burst of heat vision he could summon – which to his surprise was a brilliant display of red, glowing, heat. The tree caught fire instantly and nearly disintegrated on the spot. Shocked, Edward let go, letting the tree slam on top of him.
Edward howled in pain, and watched helplessly as Clark walked over to his limp body. Just as Clark was about to pick him up, Edward inhaled deeply and blew out a tremendous amount of air, knocking Clark off of his feet.
Scrambling to his feet, Ed got up and rushed out of the forest, leaving Clark behind to stop the fire. With some improvisation, Clark was able to smother out the fire with his bare hands. One crisis averted, Clark got up to stop another.
Once again, Clark found himself returning at the Drake house. Edward unsubtly crashed in through the front door. Clark followed closely behind.
The chase ended in the kitchen. Edward pulled knife after knife and threw them at Clark. They bounced harmlessly off of his chest.
Edward roared. "Why... won't... you... just... DIE??"
Edward charged Clark, slamming him into the stove. Their impact ruptured a gas line, causing gas to leak into the air.
Clark coughed, "Edward! There's gas filling the air! We have to get out of here!"
Edward ignored him, grabbing every sharp object he could find in the kitchen and attempting to stab Clark with it. At last, he ran out of knives and slashed Clark across the chest with his claws. Even when all else failed, he still had his faithful claws.
"Edward!"
The gas was filling the entire house now. It was miracle it hadn't blown up yet. But Clark couldn't afford to take any more chances. He had to get Edward out of the house now.
Edward roared in frustration. Clark just wasn't losing blood fast enough. "That's it! Let's... see... you try... and stay whole... after your atoms are... splattered!"
"Edward, NO!"
Edward put his claw on the marble tabletop and scratched it – hard. A tiny spark was emitted.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
And the entire house erupted in flames. The only being that came out alive, albeit scorched and naked, was Clark Kent.
S
"I don't get it," murmured Pete after Clark had explained the fight to his parents and Pete in the Kent family kitchen. "Why would Edward go back to the house after you beat him up in the forest? You would think he would have gone and found somewhere where he would have an advantage."
"Maybe he did think he had the advantage in the house, Pete," smiled Clark. "He got the jump on me in the basement, tossed me through a concrete ceiling and a brick wall, and wasn't doing that bad while we were fighting in the kitchen. But he was trying to kill me, and I wouldn't stay still long enough to let him. He finally lost his cool – maybe he didn't think straight because of the gas – and decided to make one last ditch effort to try and kill me."
"But he didn't," smiled Jonathon Kent. "Good to hear your Smallville stubborn streak's what kept you alive."
"I don't care what it was – be it fate or miracle – he's home at last," praised Martha, enwrapping her son in a hug. "Now do you want chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal?"
"Right now, I think I want to go to bed," grinned Clark.