SPAM!!! ummmmm--yummy!
9/1/05 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyPart 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Oh my goodness!! I’m having so much fun! I hope it’s as fun for you as it is for me!!
Lex took a silent breath in and slowly released it. He felt somewhat in control again. He opened his eyes in time to see Lana hesitate at the open doors, look behind her. For a moment he thought she saw him, before logic told him there was no way she could see him, black on black, tucked back in the underbrush.
She dropped from sight, down into the stairwell.
He waited a beat or two—he wanted to be sure she was off the stairs. He stepped into the darkness, reaching into his jacket as he did, and silently cursed. Right, he’d left the gun under the seat. Fuck that—he could take her out no problem. She was just a girl—albeit an insane one…he felt the weight of his cell phone shift in his shirt pocket, and ignored it. his only priority now was Clark-- he had to see. He *knew* Clark was there, he just--needed to see him.
He stopped at the foot of the stair, and his knees almost buckled.
He was there, he was on the dirt floor, bruised and so, so skinny, naked and making a noise—a sound that flipped his stomach and made him reach out for the door frame to hold himself up. All his hard won control exploded and he launched himself at the witch—he was going to rip her into bits—
Lana dove over Clark, and rolled upright, half crouching over Clark. “I’ll kill you, you freak—“ Lex kicked her in the chest; she flew backward and landed in a heap against the wall.
Lex quickly scooped up some of the stones and threw them hard as he could up the stairs, away from Clark.
Clark lay perfectly still, pale and greenish, his eyes looked sunken…Lex reached a shaking hand down to his throat—was he alive?
An earsplitting shriek ripped the air, and Lana was swarming up his back, tearing at him like a cougar, shrieking and snarling as she tore furrows across his scalp, her teeth caught in his throat and he yelled—he could feel blood run hot into his collar. He threw himself against the wall, again and again, trying to knock her off, but she clung like she was a part of him, and above the pain he felt a sensation—a feeling like— like individual fingers were squeezing, slowly pressing against his heart, his lungs, stirring around in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t yell anymore, her teeth were out of his neck, her hot tongue was licking at his throat, quick and rough as a cat’s.
She was laughing breathlessly and humming and black stars were filling the edges of his vision.
The bitch was going to kill him.
He could hear Clark calling his name from a great distance, crying and calling for him, and he tried, he tried so hard to get to him, but the weight in his chest was deeper now, the fingers were plucking at his ribs one at a time, sliding around in his lungs and trying to pull things out, things that slithered and hurt as they tried to slip out through his skin, thin and needle like, trying to come out of his pores like wires pulled from flame…
“Fuck you, you freak—I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to kill him, or maybe—make you watch me kill him.”
Lex could see Clark crying, sobbing like a child, horrible hoarse sobs that filled the air the way the stars filled his vision. Lying bitch, she was making Clark watch him die…laughter escalated, swooping higher and higher—
“I’m sorry!” he groaned and then white light blinded him and he heard the
crack of a handgun, thunderously loud in the small space.
He jerked backward and fell over as Lana was torn away; hot fluid splashed the back of his head, his neck and shoulders. The next thing he was aware of was the cobweb coated ceiling---he could see the room, the rough wet stone walls, the black beams running across the low ceiling, studded with huge bolts rust coated from the constant damp…a harsh beam of light swept away and bobbled before pinpointing Clark.
“Clark! Clark!”
Lex rolled unsteadily to his feet. Martha and Jonathan were crouching over Clark, pulling him up, by the light of the flashlight; he could see Lana just beyond them, lying on her back, arms wide and a rapidly growing black stain painting her chest. He watched the terribly slow rise and fall emotionlessly. He was cold, very cold. His teeth chattered and he gripped his jaw to stop it… He glanced back and saw Jonathan scrambling to remove the rocks left. He moved over to Lana and yanked the ring off her finger, he heard a snap. He tried to call out to Jonathan, and tossed him the ring.
It was all gone in minutes, all the poisonous green was gone and Lana was still alive, and Clark was still….
Lex stood over the perverse nightmare version of a pieta, Martha’s racking sobs made him want to move away, but he couldn’t. His hand was slick with blood from his lacerated neck, his shirt heavy with it, and all he could hear was Martha’s sobs and Jonathan cursing over and over and over—and he could hear the rattle of breath in Lana’s chest and he didn’t care.
He thought about taking the gun, and blowing her brains out, blowing his own out.
Instead he searched his shirt pocket; the phone was still there. He called in quick succession: Toby, his security chief, and certain individuals that owed him a favor or two.
******
Flashing lights broke the darkness; a gentle rain was falling, turning the soft ground into a sticky mud. Lex considered his shoes—a total loss. He watched rain wash some of the mud from the tips; he watched the scene around him unfold with as much interest.
The chief of police stood by the open cellar doors, glaring at Lex—Tom Benton, his security chief, was supervising Lana’s transportation, she was tightly wrapped in a blanket and strapped to a gurney. Lex could nearly hear the grinding of teeth as the chief watched Lana being rolled into the back of an ambulance, an ambulance that had the name of a company from Metropolis stenciled on it’s side.
Clark’s parents meanwhile were in a limo, headed with their son back to the castle. Jonathan had refused to let the chief call an ambulance for Clark, had refused all offers--and demands-- that Clark be treated at the Smallville clinic. Lex’s private doctor had quickly assumed control and whisked Clark and his parents off. Lex could hear the chief yelping in consternation—“You’re letting that—that—fucking hippie take the boy? What the hell is wrong with you Kent?” But the chief knew it was a lost cause, knew it as soon as he’d seen a Luthor was involved.
Finally all the activity wound down. Lex stood on the edge of the clearing, hands in his pockets and held tilted back, staring into the slowly graying sky, listening to the sound of the cars leaving the scene. His security chief, Benton, was arguing intensely with the police chief. Lex didn’t move. He knew Benton would win—he always won. That’s why he worked for Lex.
Sure enough, the police car tore away from the scene, lights dead, no siren—in the opposite direction the other vehicles had taken.
No one was left except Lex, Benton and a few people of his still in the cellar.
Lex spoke quietly. “The gun?”
“Taken care of,” the big man at his side said. “They know it’s yours, they won’t take it much further than that—"you" shot in self defense.”
Lex nodded…Martha…
As if reading his mind Benton spoke. “She’ll be fine. She’s pretty tough. I wouldn’t mind having her on my team--” He turned to face Lex. “That lady’s seen a hell of a lot—both her and the man. I don’t know what’s been going on in their lives but man—practical as hell. They both are. Might take a while but they’ll be okay.”
He looked down and then glanced at Lex. “Kind of helps that the…girl…isn’t dead.” How the fuck not, I don’t know
Lex’s hands curled into fists but he just nodded “Papers?”
“Taken care of, as usual.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “We’ll take care of this site—I’ve got my men looking for the rocks and…other articles you described. Cleaners will be here in,” he glanced at his watch, “ten minutes.” He looked at Lex and the expression screamed what the fuck happened here?’ but his chief knew better than to ask. “You going to head in now, sir? Get some sleep? You look like hell.”
Lex snorted—he looked like he’d been put through a shredder from the neck up, and then been rolled in dirt and…fuck yeah, he was headed in. Time to rest. He did what he was supposed to and now it was over and he felt nothing.
Nothing but a bone deep exhaustion, a full body ache that was turning into a blinding headache.
“I’ve got this, sir—we’ll report in the morning?” Deep brown eyes met his, and Lex knew the man wasn’t asking so much as ordering him—get some rest—there was nothing else happening this night.
Lex finally nodded and let one of Benton’s men drive him home. Benton had already sent his car back to the castle…the only thing he had left to do tonight was shower. His breath hitched—god, he wanted a shower like his sanity depended on it.
******
He walked towards the room he told Toby to set up for Clark and the Kents. He walked past the open door, hesitated and turned around, went inside.
Jonathan looked up at him from Clark’s bedside. So much on his face, so much…sorrow and worry and relief and guilt…Martha didn’t move, her head was on her son’s chest, her arms around him, soundless and unmoving, she held him.
Jonathan motioned him closer, but Lex shook his head. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jonathan looked even more torn but nodded. “Tomorrow, he whispered back, so hoarse and quiet that Lex barely heard the word.
He left the room, and Toby stopped him, pushed his reading glasses up to tangle in his long gray hair as he frowned at Lex. He opened his mouth once or twice before asking. “Do you want to know?” Pulled a wrinkled and creased cigarette from his pocket and played with it as he waited for Lex to answer.
Lex leaned a hip against the wall and closed his eyes. “Right now all I want to know is, is he going to be all right?”
“First off—that motherfu—that cat should be in a hospital.”
“Well that’s not possible—and that’s why you can vacation twelve months a year.”
Toby nodded, and tucked the joint behind his ear, a brief grin flashed across his face before he looked all business again.
“Okay--check it out--I think he’s going to be okay. By okay I mean he’s not going to die tonight.”
Lex winced but said nothing.
“Aw fuck, man, I mean he’s *not* going to die. Shit, he looks better than he did when we put him up here—dig,” he said at Lex’s hiss of shock. “If you’d asked me then if he was going to make it, I’d have told you no. He had bookoo shit wrong with ‘im when we dragged his ass up here. But hey-- it’s a fucking miracle—you know the kind of miracle you used to have fucking constantly? So I figure his condition and yours are related? Anyway, he’s going to live, probably recover in full.” Toby glanced at the furrows raked over Lex’s scalp—they looked to be several days old, instead of hours old.
“Now, I can only tell you about the physical. The soul—up to you guys.” He started to amble away, stopped and turned to Lex. “—hey, you know I can’t get a needle in his skin?”
Lex looked at him steadily. “No I don’t know that and neither do you.”
Toby stared back a second shrugged and grinned. “Whatever you say, Top.”
******
Lex walked on to his room, locked the door behind him. He wanted privacy—no interruptions. He wanted to sleep, maybe a drink first…He turned on music, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.
He dropped his clothes in a pile on the closet floor--they were a loss. He’d have them tossed. He walked to the shower, adjusted the water to the perfect temperature and stepped inside. The water stung the slashes on his head, and neck, he tilted his head back and let it fill his mouth, he rinsed and spit and hung his head under the top jet and let it hit the back of his neck—the side jets pounded into his ribs, his legs, working out some of the tension. His shoulders dropped and his stomach relaxed a fraction and the loss of tension kind of hurt. He rubbed his eyelids—they felt gritty and dry.
Clark’s safe. Clark’s home. We did it.
******
He opened his eyes and he was on the floor of the shower, rubbing snot off his lip and his eyes felt hot and swollen—he was gagging and gasping.
Fuck! He didn’t remember crying at all, he didn’t remember anything. His throat hurt and he was kneeling in watery vomit. He jumped to his feet and was shaking as he adjusted the water spray to clean everything away.
He pressed his palms hard against the tiles and forced deep breaths…god, he was going to make Lana suffer for an eternity. A quick flash of Clark lying in dirt on the cellar floor, the harsh light outlining…devastation… filled his mind. For what she’d done, she was going to pay, and keep on paying until--
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Oh my goodness!! I’m having so much fun! I hope it’s as fun for you as it is for me!!
Lex took a silent breath in and slowly released it. He felt somewhat in control again. He opened his eyes in time to see Lana hesitate at the open doors, look behind her. For a moment he thought she saw him, before logic told him there was no way she could see him, black on black, tucked back in the underbrush.
She dropped from sight, down into the stairwell.
He waited a beat or two—he wanted to be sure she was off the stairs. He stepped into the darkness, reaching into his jacket as he did, and silently cursed. Right, he’d left the gun under the seat. Fuck that—he could take her out no problem. She was just a girl—albeit an insane one…he felt the weight of his cell phone shift in his shirt pocket, and ignored it. his only priority now was Clark-- he had to see. He *knew* Clark was there, he just--needed to see him.
He stopped at the foot of the stair, and his knees almost buckled.
He was there, he was on the dirt floor, bruised and so, so skinny, naked and making a noise—a sound that flipped his stomach and made him reach out for the door frame to hold himself up. All his hard won control exploded and he launched himself at the witch—he was going to rip her into bits—
Lana dove over Clark, and rolled upright, half crouching over Clark. “I’ll kill you, you freak—“ Lex kicked her in the chest; she flew backward and landed in a heap against the wall.
Lex quickly scooped up some of the stones and threw them hard as he could up the stairs, away from Clark.
Clark lay perfectly still, pale and greenish, his eyes looked sunken…Lex reached a shaking hand down to his throat—was he alive?
An earsplitting shriek ripped the air, and Lana was swarming up his back, tearing at him like a cougar, shrieking and snarling as she tore furrows across his scalp, her teeth caught in his throat and he yelled—he could feel blood run hot into his collar. He threw himself against the wall, again and again, trying to knock her off, but she clung like she was a part of him, and above the pain he felt a sensation—a feeling like— like individual fingers were squeezing, slowly pressing against his heart, his lungs, stirring around in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t yell anymore, her teeth were out of his neck, her hot tongue was licking at his throat, quick and rough as a cat’s.
She was laughing breathlessly and humming and black stars were filling the edges of his vision.
The bitch was going to kill him.
He could hear Clark calling his name from a great distance, crying and calling for him, and he tried, he tried so hard to get to him, but the weight in his chest was deeper now, the fingers were plucking at his ribs one at a time, sliding around in his lungs and trying to pull things out, things that slithered and hurt as they tried to slip out through his skin, thin and needle like, trying to come out of his pores like wires pulled from flame…
“Fuck you, you freak—I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to kill him, or maybe—make you watch me kill him.”
Lex could see Clark crying, sobbing like a child, horrible hoarse sobs that filled the air the way the stars filled his vision. Lying bitch, she was making Clark watch him die…laughter escalated, swooping higher and higher—
“I’m sorry!” he groaned and then white light blinded him and he heard the
crack of a handgun, thunderously loud in the small space.
He jerked backward and fell over as Lana was torn away; hot fluid splashed the back of his head, his neck and shoulders. The next thing he was aware of was the cobweb coated ceiling---he could see the room, the rough wet stone walls, the black beams running across the low ceiling, studded with huge bolts rust coated from the constant damp…a harsh beam of light swept away and bobbled before pinpointing Clark.
“Clark! Clark!”
Lex rolled unsteadily to his feet. Martha and Jonathan were crouching over Clark, pulling him up, by the light of the flashlight; he could see Lana just beyond them, lying on her back, arms wide and a rapidly growing black stain painting her chest. He watched the terribly slow rise and fall emotionlessly. He was cold, very cold. His teeth chattered and he gripped his jaw to stop it… He glanced back and saw Jonathan scrambling to remove the rocks left. He moved over to Lana and yanked the ring off her finger, he heard a snap. He tried to call out to Jonathan, and tossed him the ring.
It was all gone in minutes, all the poisonous green was gone and Lana was still alive, and Clark was still….
Lex stood over the perverse nightmare version of a pieta, Martha’s racking sobs made him want to move away, but he couldn’t. His hand was slick with blood from his lacerated neck, his shirt heavy with it, and all he could hear was Martha’s sobs and Jonathan cursing over and over and over—and he could hear the rattle of breath in Lana’s chest and he didn’t care.
He thought about taking the gun, and blowing her brains out, blowing his own out.
Instead he searched his shirt pocket; the phone was still there. He called in quick succession: Toby, his security chief, and certain individuals that owed him a favor or two.
******
Flashing lights broke the darkness; a gentle rain was falling, turning the soft ground into a sticky mud. Lex considered his shoes—a total loss. He watched rain wash some of the mud from the tips; he watched the scene around him unfold with as much interest.
The chief of police stood by the open cellar doors, glaring at Lex—Tom Benton, his security chief, was supervising Lana’s transportation, she was tightly wrapped in a blanket and strapped to a gurney. Lex could nearly hear the grinding of teeth as the chief watched Lana being rolled into the back of an ambulance, an ambulance that had the name of a company from Metropolis stenciled on it’s side.
Clark’s parents meanwhile were in a limo, headed with their son back to the castle. Jonathan had refused to let the chief call an ambulance for Clark, had refused all offers--and demands-- that Clark be treated at the Smallville clinic. Lex’s private doctor had quickly assumed control and whisked Clark and his parents off. Lex could hear the chief yelping in consternation—“You’re letting that—that—fucking hippie take the boy? What the hell is wrong with you Kent?” But the chief knew it was a lost cause, knew it as soon as he’d seen a Luthor was involved.
Finally all the activity wound down. Lex stood on the edge of the clearing, hands in his pockets and held tilted back, staring into the slowly graying sky, listening to the sound of the cars leaving the scene. His security chief, Benton, was arguing intensely with the police chief. Lex didn’t move. He knew Benton would win—he always won. That’s why he worked for Lex.
Sure enough, the police car tore away from the scene, lights dead, no siren—in the opposite direction the other vehicles had taken.
No one was left except Lex, Benton and a few people of his still in the cellar.
Lex spoke quietly. “The gun?”
“Taken care of,” the big man at his side said. “They know it’s yours, they won’t take it much further than that—"you" shot in self defense.”
Lex nodded…Martha…
As if reading his mind Benton spoke. “She’ll be fine. She’s pretty tough. I wouldn’t mind having her on my team--” He turned to face Lex. “That lady’s seen a hell of a lot—both her and the man. I don’t know what’s been going on in their lives but man—practical as hell. They both are. Might take a while but they’ll be okay.”
He looked down and then glanced at Lex. “Kind of helps that the…girl…isn’t dead.” How the fuck not, I don’t know
Lex’s hands curled into fists but he just nodded “Papers?”
“Taken care of, as usual.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “We’ll take care of this site—I’ve got my men looking for the rocks and…other articles you described. Cleaners will be here in,” he glanced at his watch, “ten minutes.” He looked at Lex and the expression screamed what the fuck happened here?’ but his chief knew better than to ask. “You going to head in now, sir? Get some sleep? You look like hell.”
Lex snorted—he looked like he’d been put through a shredder from the neck up, and then been rolled in dirt and…fuck yeah, he was headed in. Time to rest. He did what he was supposed to and now it was over and he felt nothing.
Nothing but a bone deep exhaustion, a full body ache that was turning into a blinding headache.
“I’ve got this, sir—we’ll report in the morning?” Deep brown eyes met his, and Lex knew the man wasn’t asking so much as ordering him—get some rest—there was nothing else happening this night.
Lex finally nodded and let one of Benton’s men drive him home. Benton had already sent his car back to the castle…the only thing he had left to do tonight was shower. His breath hitched—god, he wanted a shower like his sanity depended on it.
******
He walked towards the room he told Toby to set up for Clark and the Kents. He walked past the open door, hesitated and turned around, went inside.
Jonathan looked up at him from Clark’s bedside. So much on his face, so much…sorrow and worry and relief and guilt…Martha didn’t move, her head was on her son’s chest, her arms around him, soundless and unmoving, she held him.
Jonathan motioned him closer, but Lex shook his head. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jonathan looked even more torn but nodded. “Tomorrow, he whispered back, so hoarse and quiet that Lex barely heard the word.
He left the room, and Toby stopped him, pushed his reading glasses up to tangle in his long gray hair as he frowned at Lex. He opened his mouth once or twice before asking. “Do you want to know?” Pulled a wrinkled and creased cigarette from his pocket and played with it as he waited for Lex to answer.
Lex leaned a hip against the wall and closed his eyes. “Right now all I want to know is, is he going to be all right?”
“First off—that motherfu—that cat should be in a hospital.”
“Well that’s not possible—and that’s why you can vacation twelve months a year.”
Toby nodded, and tucked the joint behind his ear, a brief grin flashed across his face before he looked all business again.
“Okay--check it out--I think he’s going to be okay. By okay I mean he’s not going to die tonight.”
Lex winced but said nothing.
“Aw fuck, man, I mean he’s *not* going to die. Shit, he looks better than he did when we put him up here—dig,” he said at Lex’s hiss of shock. “If you’d asked me then if he was going to make it, I’d have told you no. He had bookoo shit wrong with ‘im when we dragged his ass up here. But hey-- it’s a fucking miracle—you know the kind of miracle you used to have fucking constantly? So I figure his condition and yours are related? Anyway, he’s going to live, probably recover in full.” Toby glanced at the furrows raked over Lex’s scalp—they looked to be several days old, instead of hours old.
“Now, I can only tell you about the physical. The soul—up to you guys.” He started to amble away, stopped and turned to Lex. “—hey, you know I can’t get a needle in his skin?”
Lex looked at him steadily. “No I don’t know that and neither do you.”
Toby stared back a second shrugged and grinned. “Whatever you say, Top.”
******
Lex walked on to his room, locked the door behind him. He wanted privacy—no interruptions. He wanted to sleep, maybe a drink first…He turned on music, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.
He dropped his clothes in a pile on the closet floor--they were a loss. He’d have them tossed. He walked to the shower, adjusted the water to the perfect temperature and stepped inside. The water stung the slashes on his head, and neck, he tilted his head back and let it fill his mouth, he rinsed and spit and hung his head under the top jet and let it hit the back of his neck—the side jets pounded into his ribs, his legs, working out some of the tension. His shoulders dropped and his stomach relaxed a fraction and the loss of tension kind of hurt. He rubbed his eyelids—they felt gritty and dry.
Clark’s safe. Clark’s home. We did it.
******
He opened his eyes and he was on the floor of the shower, rubbing snot off his lip and his eyes felt hot and swollen—he was gagging and gasping.
Fuck! He didn’t remember crying at all, he didn’t remember anything. His throat hurt and he was kneeling in watery vomit. He jumped to his feet and was shaking as he adjusted the water spray to clean everything away.
He pressed his palms hard against the tiles and forced deep breaths…god, he was going to make Lana suffer for an eternity. A quick flash of Clark lying in dirt on the cellar floor, the harsh light outlining…devastation… filled his mind. For what she’d done, she was going to pay, and keep on paying until--
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
9/2/05 04:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 04:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 04:43 am (UTC)Hmmm...yes, I see your point, I might not be able to, 'cause I'm just a little sweetie-patootie and bringer of the sweetness and light and puppies and stuff. *big ole shimmery anime eyes*
(no subject)
9/2/05 04:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 04:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 04:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 07:53 am (UTC)Sugar and spice is how she should die though. She feeds off on pain and suffering right? So surround her with all manic, happy, barney-singing, pep squad boosters, karoake singing, natural blonds with great personalities who read palp and Dr. Suess rhymes to her 24/7 (but only the happy ones).... and starve her ta death very, very slowly.
(no subject)
9/2/05 02:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
9/2/05 03:07 pm (UTC)