![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: The Villain Of The Story
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,105
Author’s Note: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vagrantdream.
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark, Lex, Lionel, Whitney
Last Part: Chapter 2
Next Part: Chapter 4
Summary: Clark Luthor is back in Smallville, just in time for the Spring Formal.
Hands carefully embedded in his pockets, Clark walked the perimeter of Lex’s office. To the untrained eye, it was furnished with the same untasted taste any decorator would employ, but Clark could discern how Lex’s tastes shied away from the cold steel and leather Lionel favored. Not toward anything, just away from their father.
“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve cleared off the bunk beds.” Lex swirled his brandy, watching the sun filter through it and the ice within. “So what brings the Head of Special Projects to the aptly-named Smallville?”
Clark made a B-line to Lex’s desk like he found the room’s opulence tawdry. His hair was slicked back and he’d abandoned his affinity for primary colors in favor of a dark suit and blood-red tie. “I’d hardly say I’m the Head of Special Projects, Lex.”
“Let’s not talk formalities. It wastes time.”
“I didn’t know your time was so valuable.”
“If it isn’t, what are you doing here?”
Clark smiled thinly. “Just shooting in and out for a few days. We haven’t talked much since Father and I went on our trip. You’re not still sore about that, are you?”
“As inconceivable as I find the notion of anyone outside of law enforcement wanting ‘face time’ with Lionel? No, Clark, I don’t envy you one bit. I’ve learned to become self-sufficient in the past few years. All you’ve learned is how to be a more obedient lapdog.”
Clark carefully considered the glass Lex had poured him before sitting down and knocking it back with competitive streak on full display. “Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven?”
“This isn’t hell, Clark. This is Smallville.”
Clark dropped the smile. “I can see I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’ll be back later, when you’re feeling more… charitable.”
“No rush,” Lex said as his brother left.
***
Davis Kent woke up from the strangest dream he’d ever had. He’d felt at peace, content, utterly Nirvana-ed out… and yet at the same time he’d felt the kind of white-hot rage that felt too big for your body, the kind that made you almost shake apart. Complete split, yet it was like they balanced each other out. He hadn’t felt so well-rested in ages. He was going to tell Chloe about the strange mix of dream and nightmare when she told him something that made him wonder if he was still sleeping.
“Davis, did you hear?”
“That? Just now? Yes, I did.”
Chloe scooted closer to him on the squeaking leather bus seat. “Last night, someone… or something… crumpled Whitney’s pick-up into a volleyball. They found it in the backseat of Deputy Adams’ cruiser.”
“Well, it is tornado season,” Pete quipped.
Sometimes it felt like nothing happened in Smallville for weeks at a time, so wanton destruction dominated the conversations going on around him. Davis just sat back, enjoying his renewed anonymity.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah, Chlo, I’m a space alien. I used my alien powers to wad up a truck and drop it on a cop car.”
“I was just wondering.” Chloe scratched her ear. “If it was, your secret would be safe with me.” Her hand abruptly came down, slapping the cracked brown leather between them. “Hey, you think this has anything to do with those dead jocks?”
“What dead jocks?”
“Over the past few weeks, three football players from the Class of ’89 have turned up dead. The coroner’s report labeled them as lightning strikes, but one of them was found inside a building.”
“Maybe it was a really tall building.”
Chloe laughed and Davis ruffled her hair. “You’re in a good mood. Did Lana Lang invite you to the Spring Formal?”
“No, no, I am still regrettably stag and those dancing lessons are still a poor investment.”
“Oh, that’s… too bad. You know what’d be weird? If the two of us went together. Not even together, just at the same time.”
“I don’t know, that could be fun…”
“Great! When are you picking me up?”
“Uh… six?”
“Great!” Chloe smiled – she had a really nice smile – and the bus lurched to a stop. Like part of the same jerky motion, Chloe’s lips shot against his, then she was running for it. Davis couldn’t figure out how much was fear and how much was exhilaration.
“Uh, what just happened?” he asked Pete.
“Brother, you just got hit by the Sulli-Van.”
***
Clark pushed through the cornstalks, feeling his armor crinkle around him. He didn’t need it, but it showed solidarity with his men. He still refused the headgear. His own eyesight was better than the commandoes’ visors.
He still remembered his father’s reaction the first time he had told Lionel about his powers. The slow creak of the letter opener moving up his arm, finally growing dull against his skin. Then the battery of tests probing his limits, his gifts. He might have been driven mad if it weren’t for his father, always there, always comforting him. Telling him how special he was. How he had a great destiny.
Clark shook himself free of the memory. He could hear clearer, see further, and fight harder than any man alive. He was a hero right out of Greek myth. And he had a quest as pernicious as Hercules ever had.
He pushed another cornstalk aside. To his senses, the other men were stomping everywhere, making enough noise to be heard from space. It could get on anyone’s nerves.
He flanked the man whose heartbeat he’d heard, coming out of the crops to see it was a farmboy strung up like a scarecrow. African-American. Someone had a very poor understanding of racial relations. Clark came up behind him. “Where’s Creek?”
“Wha? Who’s there?”
“You want down, tell me where Creek is.”
“Who’s Creek?”
Clark held the picture in front of his face. “Jeremy Creek.”
Hanging there all evening had taken its toll, but the kid jerked to life. “You’ve gotta stop him! He said he was going to the school dance, I think he’s gonna hurt someone!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Clark tore a palm-sized paper slip from a box on his belt, pulled off the Band-Aid pad, then pressed the chloroform to the kid’s mouth and nostrils. Once he stopped struggling, Clark pulled apart his ropes.
“Get him to a hospital.”
“What about you?” one of the men asked.
“You’d only slow me down.”
***
Chloe had never suspected it would be so nice. Her feelings (if any) for Davis were a big sticky morass of Don’t Go There and he was so repressed she wondered if the Kents were closet Bible bashers. He always seemed to hold tight to his feelings, only ever favoring her with a half-smile or a dull chuckle. But ever since that cathartic blast to Whitney’s jaw, it was like he’d unleashed the beast. Maybe he’d go all caveman on her. Wouldn’t that be fun.
But all she’d expected was for him to get her punch and mock what passed for fashionistas in Smallville. But then the DJ had started a slow number and he’d asked her to dance and then they were so close, nothing between them, no secrets. Only, she could think of one thing she’d never told him for fear he would think she was some kind of freak.
The song ended, the AV club scrambled to find another, and Chloe stayed with Davis on the dance floor. “Can I show you something?”
“Right now?” Davis asked.
“Well, it can wait.”
The music started up and the student body began to groove, for lack of a better term, to Backstreet Boys.
“No, now’s good.”
Chloe led him by the arm out of the gym and out under an open-walled walkway. The night was as cold as it was beautiful. Chloe clung to Davis for warmth and because she could.
Jeremy Creek watched them break away from the party and into the school. They looked like a cute couple. He was glad he didn’t have to kill them.
Rubbing on the now-healed skin where ropes had once cut across him, he went to the water main. Once the sprinklers were on, he would let the power out, the path of least resistance. It was too late for Smallville, but maybe this could serve as a warning. Maybe now they’d understand his pain.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Creek spun around. The face went with the powerful voice. Square jaw, perfect cheekbones, Aryan-blue eyes. He was dressed all in black like some kind of cat burglar, with the metal links on his handcuffs the only color.
“Perfect. Another jock.”
“I did play a mean game of lacrosse.” Clark watched with rapt fascination as Creek’s hands lit up electric blue. “I’m not here to fight you, Jeremy. I’m here to help you. You’ve had your revenge, now what? Blow up the school? You’ll be hunted down like a dog. Or, you could be a hero.”
“What’re you talking about?”
Clark looked to Creek’s right. When he exhaled, ice formed on the brick wall. “You’re not the only one with powers. There are others like you. Want to meet them?”
***
“Chloe, what is all this?” Davis’s hand ran over the titles of print-outs, newspaper clippings, and photos overflowing from the corkboard.
“Some would call it an oversized scrapbook.” Chloe forced herself to be as cool for Davis as she had been for her mirror. “I call it the Wall of Weird.” She taped up an article on Whitney’s truck to the wall. “It all started with the meteor shower. Since then, weird things keep happening.”
Davis picked up a photo of himself as a child, his eyes dotted with red marker.
“You… kinda got me interested in all this weirdness. If it weren’t for you, this probably would just have been a phase.” Chloe pulled the curling Polaroid out of his hand. “I wanted to cure you.”
“I didn’t need a cure. I needed a friend.” Davis touched her cheek.
“Oh god!”
Davis pulled his hand back. “What?”
“I thought you were going to—did you know Red-Eyes sightings tend to increase at the full moon?”
“Red-Eyes?”
“And usually on my dad’s property. You wanna help with my stake-out? It’s not a school night, but I’ll totally understand if you have homework.”
“No, I’m not—I’d love to. Chloe, are you okay?”
She seemed winded from saying so much. “Great! You think Pete’s here yet? Let’s go check on Pete!”
Davis left the Torch offices with his frazzled friend. Sometimes, it felt like Chloe Sullivan was from another planet.
***
Lex strolled into his study to find his fencing partner waiting for him. He took the towel from around his neck and gave his wet scalp a drying rub. Giving the belt of his mauve bathrobe a firm tug, he stepped out of his slippers and onto the carpet, letting it absorb his dripping. “Gina, you seem to have put on weight.”
Clark smiled behind his helmet’s mesh. “What’s the matter, Warrior Angel, finally willing to acknowledge the supremacy of Devilicus?”
Lex hid his grin as he turned to pick up a foil. When he turned back around, his face was featureless as marble. “Fencing’s a game of skill and strategy, Clark. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer an arm wrestling match?”
“A lot’s changed since we were kids, Lex.”
Lex surged forward, scoring on Clark’s chest before the younger Luthor could even more. “I doubt that. En garde, by the way.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Clark backed up, holding his foil warily. “You know if you apologized, Dad would have you back in Metropolis before the day was out?”
Lex pressed another attack, this time meeting stiff resistance. “I’m not apologizing for his overprotectiveness.”
“He didn’t want me to find out I was adopted from you,” Clark batted Lex’s foil aside and reversed his sword to whack Lex’s side. “Can you blame him?”
“Same old Clark, never looking under the surface. I’m surprised Lionel hasn’t ground that out of you.”
“Trust?”
“Naiveté.”
Clark blocked Lex’s violent lunge. Momentum smashed them together, blade against blade. “I trust you.” Clark broke the lock, throwing Lex on his back. “Father doesn’t see your potential, but I do. There’s so much we can accomplish together, as brothers.” He stood over Lex, offering his hand. “Father’s opening a Special Project division here. I’d like your help.”
“Are you asking me or informing me?”
“That depends on your answer.”
Lex took his brother’s hand. “What’s this division called?”
“33.1.”
Author’s notes: Dun dun DAAA! Yeah, now we’re kicking into high-gear.
I never wanted this to be “retelling season one, only Davis is better than Clark because he’s nicer to Chloe” (because we all know that’s not true, right? *crickets chirp*). One of the things I wanted to fix was how you have people getting exposed to Kryptonite all the time and yet, nobody notices. So either all these meteor freaks suddenly start popping up when Clark enters high school or someone’s doing a cover-up. Ladies and gentlemen, Lionel Luthor.
It’s important to note that many of the children who were exposed to Kryptonite during the meteor shower are coming of age in 2001, after being ‘benign’ like Chloe was. Good thing they won’t be exposed to any heightened emotions in high school, right? So, exponential increase in number of meteor freaks, but someone already knows about them. Science wank over.
Point is, I wanted a lot of differences and one of them would be that Davis does more than just refight Clark’s battles with better abs. I didn’t want it to just be “Davis is good and Clark is evil.” Lex was raised by Lionel and he wasn’t pure evil, at least not when the show was good, so it doesn’t make sense that Clark would be unambiguously evil. He’s fucked up, he has the world’s worst relationship with his brother (although there is love there… Clark didn’t have to involve him in 33.1, and I wonder what Lionel’s reaction to that is…), but at heart, he’s no more evil than Davis was.
Which isn’t to say he doesn’t do bad things. Ominous note…
Oh, and that was Pete Ross as the scarecrow. Don’t know if you got that. I give him pagetime when I can, but I must warn you Pete fans that he’s not the biggest character in this.
(The one Pete fan on the internet: “Damnit!” *punches wall*)
One fun thing to write was the scene where Chloe shows the Wall of Weird to Davis. In the pilot (which is when this chapter chronologically takes place, in case you haven’t guessed because you’re on peyote), it’s a show of trust, her unveiling this passion project knowing it could get her laughed out of school. So, naturally, Clark derides her for not showing it to him earlier. Wonder why she didn’t…
Turning that bit of asshattery into a quirky romantic gesture, albeit an abortive one, was a fun bit of subversion, as was having Chloe attribute her interest in all things weird to her brush with Davis (it wasn’t, as you may have noticed from her canon characterization, but it shows how highly she places Davis’s importance to her). But wait, what is this Red Eyes of which you speak?
Next time, Metamorphosis! Lois Lane! 33.1! Buffy the Vampire Slayer! And maybe an early sighting of Davis protecting tiny blonde? Well, if you’re good, we’ll see.
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,105
Author’s Note: Betaed by
vagrantdream.Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark, Lex, Lionel, Whitney
Last Part: Chapter 2
Next Part: Chapter 4
Summary: Clark Luthor is back in Smallville, just in time for the Spring Formal.
Hands carefully embedded in his pockets, Clark walked the perimeter of Lex’s office. To the untrained eye, it was furnished with the same untasted taste any decorator would employ, but Clark could discern how Lex’s tastes shied away from the cold steel and leather Lionel favored. Not toward anything, just away from their father.
“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve cleared off the bunk beds.” Lex swirled his brandy, watching the sun filter through it and the ice within. “So what brings the Head of Special Projects to the aptly-named Smallville?”
Clark made a B-line to Lex’s desk like he found the room’s opulence tawdry. His hair was slicked back and he’d abandoned his affinity for primary colors in favor of a dark suit and blood-red tie. “I’d hardly say I’m the Head of Special Projects, Lex.”
“Let’s not talk formalities. It wastes time.”
“I didn’t know your time was so valuable.”
“If it isn’t, what are you doing here?”
Clark smiled thinly. “Just shooting in and out for a few days. We haven’t talked much since Father and I went on our trip. You’re not still sore about that, are you?”
“As inconceivable as I find the notion of anyone outside of law enforcement wanting ‘face time’ with Lionel? No, Clark, I don’t envy you one bit. I’ve learned to become self-sufficient in the past few years. All you’ve learned is how to be a more obedient lapdog.”
Clark carefully considered the glass Lex had poured him before sitting down and knocking it back with competitive streak on full display. “Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven?”
“This isn’t hell, Clark. This is Smallville.”
Clark dropped the smile. “I can see I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’ll be back later, when you’re feeling more… charitable.”
“No rush,” Lex said as his brother left.
***
Davis Kent woke up from the strangest dream he’d ever had. He’d felt at peace, content, utterly Nirvana-ed out… and yet at the same time he’d felt the kind of white-hot rage that felt too big for your body, the kind that made you almost shake apart. Complete split, yet it was like they balanced each other out. He hadn’t felt so well-rested in ages. He was going to tell Chloe about the strange mix of dream and nightmare when she told him something that made him wonder if he was still sleeping.
“Davis, did you hear?”
“That? Just now? Yes, I did.”
Chloe scooted closer to him on the squeaking leather bus seat. “Last night, someone… or something… crumpled Whitney’s pick-up into a volleyball. They found it in the backseat of Deputy Adams’ cruiser.”
“Well, it is tornado season,” Pete quipped.
Sometimes it felt like nothing happened in Smallville for weeks at a time, so wanton destruction dominated the conversations going on around him. Davis just sat back, enjoying his renewed anonymity.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah, Chlo, I’m a space alien. I used my alien powers to wad up a truck and drop it on a cop car.”
“I was just wondering.” Chloe scratched her ear. “If it was, your secret would be safe with me.” Her hand abruptly came down, slapping the cracked brown leather between them. “Hey, you think this has anything to do with those dead jocks?”
“What dead jocks?”
“Over the past few weeks, three football players from the Class of ’89 have turned up dead. The coroner’s report labeled them as lightning strikes, but one of them was found inside a building.”
“Maybe it was a really tall building.”
Chloe laughed and Davis ruffled her hair. “You’re in a good mood. Did Lana Lang invite you to the Spring Formal?”
“No, no, I am still regrettably stag and those dancing lessons are still a poor investment.”
“Oh, that’s… too bad. You know what’d be weird? If the two of us went together. Not even together, just at the same time.”
“I don’t know, that could be fun…”
“Great! When are you picking me up?”
“Uh… six?”
“Great!” Chloe smiled – she had a really nice smile – and the bus lurched to a stop. Like part of the same jerky motion, Chloe’s lips shot against his, then she was running for it. Davis couldn’t figure out how much was fear and how much was exhilaration.
“Uh, what just happened?” he asked Pete.
“Brother, you just got hit by the Sulli-Van.”
***
Clark pushed through the cornstalks, feeling his armor crinkle around him. He didn’t need it, but it showed solidarity with his men. He still refused the headgear. His own eyesight was better than the commandoes’ visors.
He still remembered his father’s reaction the first time he had told Lionel about his powers. The slow creak of the letter opener moving up his arm, finally growing dull against his skin. Then the battery of tests probing his limits, his gifts. He might have been driven mad if it weren’t for his father, always there, always comforting him. Telling him how special he was. How he had a great destiny.
Clark shook himself free of the memory. He could hear clearer, see further, and fight harder than any man alive. He was a hero right out of Greek myth. And he had a quest as pernicious as Hercules ever had.
He pushed another cornstalk aside. To his senses, the other men were stomping everywhere, making enough noise to be heard from space. It could get on anyone’s nerves.
He flanked the man whose heartbeat he’d heard, coming out of the crops to see it was a farmboy strung up like a scarecrow. African-American. Someone had a very poor understanding of racial relations. Clark came up behind him. “Where’s Creek?”
“Wha? Who’s there?”
“You want down, tell me where Creek is.”
“Who’s Creek?”
Clark held the picture in front of his face. “Jeremy Creek.”
Hanging there all evening had taken its toll, but the kid jerked to life. “You’ve gotta stop him! He said he was going to the school dance, I think he’s gonna hurt someone!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Clark tore a palm-sized paper slip from a box on his belt, pulled off the Band-Aid pad, then pressed the chloroform to the kid’s mouth and nostrils. Once he stopped struggling, Clark pulled apart his ropes.
“Get him to a hospital.”
“What about you?” one of the men asked.
“You’d only slow me down.”
***
Chloe had never suspected it would be so nice. Her feelings (if any) for Davis were a big sticky morass of Don’t Go There and he was so repressed she wondered if the Kents were closet Bible bashers. He always seemed to hold tight to his feelings, only ever favoring her with a half-smile or a dull chuckle. But ever since that cathartic blast to Whitney’s jaw, it was like he’d unleashed the beast. Maybe he’d go all caveman on her. Wouldn’t that be fun.
But all she’d expected was for him to get her punch and mock what passed for fashionistas in Smallville. But then the DJ had started a slow number and he’d asked her to dance and then they were so close, nothing between them, no secrets. Only, she could think of one thing she’d never told him for fear he would think she was some kind of freak.
The song ended, the AV club scrambled to find another, and Chloe stayed with Davis on the dance floor. “Can I show you something?”
“Right now?” Davis asked.
“Well, it can wait.”
The music started up and the student body began to groove, for lack of a better term, to Backstreet Boys.
“No, now’s good.”
Chloe led him by the arm out of the gym and out under an open-walled walkway. The night was as cold as it was beautiful. Chloe clung to Davis for warmth and because she could.
Jeremy Creek watched them break away from the party and into the school. They looked like a cute couple. He was glad he didn’t have to kill them.
Rubbing on the now-healed skin where ropes had once cut across him, he went to the water main. Once the sprinklers were on, he would let the power out, the path of least resistance. It was too late for Smallville, but maybe this could serve as a warning. Maybe now they’d understand his pain.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Creek spun around. The face went with the powerful voice. Square jaw, perfect cheekbones, Aryan-blue eyes. He was dressed all in black like some kind of cat burglar, with the metal links on his handcuffs the only color.
“Perfect. Another jock.”
“I did play a mean game of lacrosse.” Clark watched with rapt fascination as Creek’s hands lit up electric blue. “I’m not here to fight you, Jeremy. I’m here to help you. You’ve had your revenge, now what? Blow up the school? You’ll be hunted down like a dog. Or, you could be a hero.”
“What’re you talking about?”
Clark looked to Creek’s right. When he exhaled, ice formed on the brick wall. “You’re not the only one with powers. There are others like you. Want to meet them?”
***
“Chloe, what is all this?” Davis’s hand ran over the titles of print-outs, newspaper clippings, and photos overflowing from the corkboard.
“Some would call it an oversized scrapbook.” Chloe forced herself to be as cool for Davis as she had been for her mirror. “I call it the Wall of Weird.” She taped up an article on Whitney’s truck to the wall. “It all started with the meteor shower. Since then, weird things keep happening.”
Davis picked up a photo of himself as a child, his eyes dotted with red marker.
“You… kinda got me interested in all this weirdness. If it weren’t for you, this probably would just have been a phase.” Chloe pulled the curling Polaroid out of his hand. “I wanted to cure you.”
“I didn’t need a cure. I needed a friend.” Davis touched her cheek.
“Oh god!”
Davis pulled his hand back. “What?”
“I thought you were going to—did you know Red-Eyes sightings tend to increase at the full moon?”
“Red-Eyes?”
“And usually on my dad’s property. You wanna help with my stake-out? It’s not a school night, but I’ll totally understand if you have homework.”
“No, I’m not—I’d love to. Chloe, are you okay?”
She seemed winded from saying so much. “Great! You think Pete’s here yet? Let’s go check on Pete!”
Davis left the Torch offices with his frazzled friend. Sometimes, it felt like Chloe Sullivan was from another planet.
***
Lex strolled into his study to find his fencing partner waiting for him. He took the towel from around his neck and gave his wet scalp a drying rub. Giving the belt of his mauve bathrobe a firm tug, he stepped out of his slippers and onto the carpet, letting it absorb his dripping. “Gina, you seem to have put on weight.”
Clark smiled behind his helmet’s mesh. “What’s the matter, Warrior Angel, finally willing to acknowledge the supremacy of Devilicus?”
Lex hid his grin as he turned to pick up a foil. When he turned back around, his face was featureless as marble. “Fencing’s a game of skill and strategy, Clark. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer an arm wrestling match?”
“A lot’s changed since we were kids, Lex.”
Lex surged forward, scoring on Clark’s chest before the younger Luthor could even more. “I doubt that. En garde, by the way.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Clark backed up, holding his foil warily. “You know if you apologized, Dad would have you back in Metropolis before the day was out?”
Lex pressed another attack, this time meeting stiff resistance. “I’m not apologizing for his overprotectiveness.”
“He didn’t want me to find out I was adopted from you,” Clark batted Lex’s foil aside and reversed his sword to whack Lex’s side. “Can you blame him?”
“Same old Clark, never looking under the surface. I’m surprised Lionel hasn’t ground that out of you.”
“Trust?”
“Naiveté.”
Clark blocked Lex’s violent lunge. Momentum smashed them together, blade against blade. “I trust you.” Clark broke the lock, throwing Lex on his back. “Father doesn’t see your potential, but I do. There’s so much we can accomplish together, as brothers.” He stood over Lex, offering his hand. “Father’s opening a Special Project division here. I’d like your help.”
“Are you asking me or informing me?”
“That depends on your answer.”
Lex took his brother’s hand. “What’s this division called?”
“33.1.”
Author’s notes: Dun dun DAAA! Yeah, now we’re kicking into high-gear.
I never wanted this to be “retelling season one, only Davis is better than Clark because he’s nicer to Chloe” (because we all know that’s not true, right? *crickets chirp*). One of the things I wanted to fix was how you have people getting exposed to Kryptonite all the time and yet, nobody notices. So either all these meteor freaks suddenly start popping up when Clark enters high school or someone’s doing a cover-up. Ladies and gentlemen, Lionel Luthor.
It’s important to note that many of the children who were exposed to Kryptonite during the meteor shower are coming of age in 2001, after being ‘benign’ like Chloe was. Good thing they won’t be exposed to any heightened emotions in high school, right? So, exponential increase in number of meteor freaks, but someone already knows about them. Science wank over.
Point is, I wanted a lot of differences and one of them would be that Davis does more than just refight Clark’s battles with better abs. I didn’t want it to just be “Davis is good and Clark is evil.” Lex was raised by Lionel and he wasn’t pure evil, at least not when the show was good, so it doesn’t make sense that Clark would be unambiguously evil. He’s fucked up, he has the world’s worst relationship with his brother (although there is love there… Clark didn’t have to involve him in 33.1, and I wonder what Lionel’s reaction to that is…), but at heart, he’s no more evil than Davis was.
Which isn’t to say he doesn’t do bad things. Ominous note…
Oh, and that was Pete Ross as the scarecrow. Don’t know if you got that. I give him pagetime when I can, but I must warn you Pete fans that he’s not the biggest character in this.
(The one Pete fan on the internet: “Damnit!” *punches wall*)
One fun thing to write was the scene where Chloe shows the Wall of Weird to Davis. In the pilot (which is when this chapter chronologically takes place, in case you haven’t guessed because you’re on peyote), it’s a show of trust, her unveiling this passion project knowing it could get her laughed out of school. So, naturally, Clark derides her for not showing it to him earlier. Wonder why she didn’t…
Turning that bit of asshattery into a quirky romantic gesture, albeit an abortive one, was a fun bit of subversion, as was having Chloe attribute her interest in all things weird to her brush with Davis (it wasn’t, as you may have noticed from her canon characterization, but it shows how highly she places Davis’s importance to her). But wait, what is this Red Eyes of which you speak?
Next time, Metamorphosis! Lois Lane! 33.1! Buffy the Vampire Slayer! And maybe an early sighting of Davis protecting tiny blonde? Well, if you’re good, we’ll see.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 08:25 pm (UTC)I can't wait for next chapter!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 10:48 pm (UTC)That part has me stumped...
I liked this chapter, just as much, if not more than the previous one.
PS. Argh, don't you hate pants?!
this ff is made of ABSOFUCKINLUTELY EPIC!AWESOMNESS!
Date: 2009-07-07 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 11:16 pm (UTC)I liekd the wall of weird twist, the reason she was doing it was because of Davis and wanting to help him find a cure. Awe. So sweet.
I love the Chlavis.
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Date: 2009-07-07 11:17 pm (UTC)I'm glad that Davis has been informed of the Wall of Weird and yay for Chloe/Davis dancing!!
Hmm I'm interested in the beginning of 33.1 and how exactly Clark and Lex are going to work together in this project.
Can't wait for the next chapter =]
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Date: 2009-07-08 01:02 am (UTC)I ♥ this so much. So much. OMG. ♥
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Date: 2009-07-08 01:19 am (UTC)I'm having a hard time deciding which part of this chapter I liked best. Was it "Sulli-Van"? Creek thinking Chloe and Davis are cute? The Red Eyes? Lex and Clark fencing? I can't choose! It was all so fantastic.
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Date: 2009-07-08 05:26 am (UTC)Ha. HA. Yeah, you'd think so. (I hope I still have my "Beer Bad" icon. Yes.)
The Wall of Weird! Davis is awesome about it! She asks him to go on a stakeout! ROMANCE! (Well, eventually.)
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Date: 2009-07-08 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-08 09:21 pm (UTC)Dead jocks!!! Red eyes!!!
I'm filled with glee and must have more!!