Part 4/6
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Clark shot up, the sheets on the bed covered in sweat. He looked around the room, taking in shaky breaths. iWhat the hell/i He was lying in a bed that had a blood red blanket, with matching sheets. The walls were dark as night, and the floors were old, uneven wooden boards. It seemed almost everything was covered in dust.
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His foggy mind finally realized a phone was ringing. There was a decade old steel cart next to the bed. An old-fashioned dial phone sat on it, covered in cobwebs. iWhere am I? Wasn't I just at the lake/i He glanced at his shoulder. It was fine. No blood. No teeth marks. It than registered in his mind that he could see. He had been blind before. iWhat is going on/i
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A window was in the far corner. He almost didn't see it, it was so dark outside. A clock hung on the wall. Clark squinted his eyes trying to read it. 3:15. It was three in the morning. He looked around more. There didn't seem to be anything modern at all in the room. Nothing digital. Not even a light.
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He looked back at the phone. iGuess I better answer it…/i He reached over and picked up the phone. The dust on it clung to his fingers. He lifted it to his ear, the mouth piece curving up towards his lips. "Hello?" He whispered.
A raspy, yet familiar voice answered back. "I know."
Clark froze. A chill ran down his back. Goosebumps raised on every inch of his skin. He gulped. "Kn-know what?"
"Please, Mr. Kent. Don't insult my intelligence. I don't insult yours. You know what I'm talking about. But, if I must spell it out to you, than here you go. I know about your abilities. I know about your origins."
He knew his secret. bLionel Luthor/b knew his secret. Of all the people in the world to find out, it had to be him.
"Enjoy your stay, because you won't be as comfortable as you are now for much longer."
Than all he heard was a click, and a dial tone. He took in a shaky breath, and placed the receiver back on the base.
What was he going to do? Lionel knew. And from what he was saying, he was coming. Clark ran to the door, finding it locked. He pulled the door off it's hinges, but stopped short when the all too familiar ache from Kryptonite started in the pit of his stomach. There was an old bookshelf sitting across the hall, filled to the brim with glowing meteor rocks.
He collapsed onto the floor with a grunt. He still didn't know what was happening. Had everything at the lake been a dream? If so, it was the most real dream he had ever experienced. He could almost feel the flesh being torn off his arm. Shuddering, he took a deep breath.
The Kryptonite poisoning was getting worse. His energy was draining. His lungs were getting heavier, making it hard to breathe. His normal reaction was made ten times worse due to the huge amount of meteor in front of him.
He stiffened when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Perfect." He muttered. Grunting, he turned his head to see Lionel approaching him.
"Oh, Mr. Kent. Did I fail to mention not to open your door? Oh, well. You were going to have to get near this stuff anyway." He motioned to three men that were a few feet away. "Take him. You know what to do."
Clark tried to resist, but in his weakened state he was no match to the large men. They picked him up, and carried him down the hallway. He thought that maybe, just maybe he could get away from the rocks. But, as they turned a corner, there was another shelf with just as much of the deadly stuff.
He felt like screaming. They had stopped right in front of the Kryptonite. His veins were turning green, and crawling up his body. All he could manage was a low groan. Lionel turned to face him. "Enjoy your comfort Mr. Kent. It's about to get much worse." He said with a smirk.
iHow much worse can this get/i They walked through a large black door. Inside was the worst thing he could ever see. The room was massive, and filled to the brim with Kryptonite. There was what seemed to be a walk-way through it, and Lionel's henchmen proceeded in carrying him through the room.
It was torture. Pure, simple torture. It was the only word that could describe it. As his energy was drained at such a massive speed, he vaguely saw some one open another door. As soon as they walked through, he felt better. But, only slightly. Enough to not lose consciousness.
It appeared to be a lead room. The men dropped him right in the middle of it. His head smacked against the cool concrete. "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Lionel waved the men away. "Mr. Kent. It would seem that you don't enjoy my hospitality. I'm hurt." He felt a shoe connect with his side, as Lionel kicked him. The man walked over to a large table. Clark couldn't see what was on it, but he had a gut feeling he wouldn't like whatever it was.
Lionel continued to talk to him from across the room. "I'm going to ask you questions. You will answer. If you don't, or if you lie, you will regret it. Is that clear?"
All Lionel received was an icy stare. "Call that strike one. If you don't respond for two more times, than you shall see just how bad your punishment will be. Now, Clark, why does your blood raise the dead?"
Clark just stared at him shocked. "I told you I knew everything. And, that is now strike two. Last chance Mr. Kent." Lionel crouched down beside Clark. He had something behind his back, but Clark couldn't see what it was.
"Why are you here? Why did you come to Earth?"
Clark took a deep breath. "I'm not telling you banything/b."
"Strike three. You're out Mr. Kent." Lionel pulled a gun out from behind him. He raised it so that it was pointing straight at Clark's head.
"No!"
"Yes."
He pulled the trigger.