![[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: 1,933
Author’s Note: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vagrantdream.
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark/Lois,
Last Part: Chapter 5
Next Part: Chapter 7
Summary: And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, “Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.”
Lois revised her list, deciding she hated retirement homes more than hospitals. They had the same kind of funky smell, but people went to hospitals to get better and only came to homes to die. She was definitely hoping she died before she got old.
One more minute of pill duty and she was going to need some herself. Going outside for a smoke, she nearly plowed into a rampaging Lana Lang. “Can you watch Harry a minute? I need to call my boyfriend. I try to be supportive of him.”
“Yeah, sure thing.” There was something wrong about that girl. While she went inside, Lois walked out on the pier over Lake Old People. Harry was looking out at the water. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Only if you share.”
***
“How do you lose a retiree?” Chloe asked twenty minutes later.
“I don’t know!” Lois checked behind the couch in Harry’s room. “I turn my back for one minute and he goes from Harry Bolston to Harry Houdini! I am not a professional caregiver! Yesterday, I was watering the flowers! And he was in a wheelchair, how was I supposed to know it had rocket boosters or something?”
Chloe checked the last closet. “What are you even doing here? The last thing I recall you volunteering for was a bikini car wash.”
“It saved the rec center, didn’t it? And as for why I’m here—“
Clark Luthor poked his head in the door. “So I hear you’re missing an old person?”
Lois didn’t, as a rule, swoon. However, to Chloe’s endless amusement, she did have a sort of sigh.
“Why? You have one you’re willing to spare?” Chloe asked, just before Lois gave her leg a stout kick.
“I’m fresh out at the moment, but maybe if we all looked, we can find him before he crosses the border.”
“Great idea!” Lois cheered. “Chloe, you search the building, Clark and I will look outside.”
Chloe knew which way the wind was blowing. “You two enjoy the view.”
“We’ll look high and low,” Clark promised smarmily.
That left Chloe alone. She fanned herself sardonically. “Any more like you back home, Mr. Luthor? Woof.”
Then she noticed the picture on the wall and the darts sticking out of it.
“Okay, when did the vending machines start offering Haterade?”
***
Lois would give the retirement home one thing. It had some prime real estate. With the bright sunlight perfectly balancing the shady trees, the crisp green grass melting underfoot, and of course the company, Lois couldn’t think of a better way to be looking for a dirty old man.
“So, what’s the pride and joy of Luthorcorp doing washing bedpans?”
“Community service,” Clark said smoothly.
Lois laughed. “Great, you’re not one of those stuffy, humorless millionaires I hear so much about.”
“I’m going to tell Bruce you said that. Really, if there’s one thing my father’s taught me, it’s to always respect my elders.” Pain flittered across Clark’s face like an old war wound acting up. “Always.”
“Yeah, my dad’s a hardass too,” Lois joked.
“He’s not like… he’s not like that. He’s just very… paternal. He wants me to live up to my full potential.”
“Me, I think potential’s useless if you can’t decide what it’s for. Hey, I might have it in me to be the best elephant masturbator in the world, who gives a crap? Ain’t happening!”
“I think you have the potential to be much more than an elephant masturbator. You did just rope a multimillionaire into a geezer hunt. There are presidents who can’t do that.” Clark stopped, putting a hand on Lois’s arm. “Lois?”
“Yes Clark? Can I call you Clark?”
“I think Harry has well and truly flown the coop. Looks like I owe you an old guy.”
“I’ll settle for dinner.”
Clark’s eyebrows made a bid for his hairline. “In Metropolis, girls don’t tend to be so forward.”
“Really? I’ll have to leave it off the world tour. Pick me up at 8?”
“If I can fit in it between being a rich playboy.”
“Right, let me give you my number—“
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you.”
“I’m not listed.”
“I’m rich. I have abilities beyond the ken of mortal men.”
***
Davis felt the worn bone of the rosary beads travel through his fingers. His loft hardly had the atmosphere of a proper church, but it gave him privacy and solitude, both of which he valued. The rosary was a gift, passed down from his grandfather to his mother and now to him. Even as a boy, his mother’s Catholicism had seemed so much more real than Jonathan’s Protestant faith. The tenets of original sin and its forgiveness had resonated heavily upon him, and now, only with the rosary in hand did he feel peace replace the restlessness constantly driving him.
He counted off the decades as he read. “And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.’ And he said unto them, ‘I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.’"
His phone buzzed and he answered it to be greeted with a blitz of Chloe-sounding noise. “Wait, what?”
He heard Chloe take a deep breath. “I think Harry Bolston has rejuvenated himself to go on a killing spree. And my cousin has a date with Clark Luthor.”
“Okay, I believe the part about Harry Bolston, but what’s this about Lois and Clark Luthor?”
“Never mind that, I just thought you ought to know!” She laid it out quick. The piano teacher that Harry Bolston, nee Volk, had failed to kill 60 years ago had been found dead. Chloe had found a dartboard with her picture on it in Harry’s room. And Harry had gone missing near a pond full of meteor rocks.
“So you’re sure he’s young again and doesn’t just have the proportionate strength and speed of pond scum?”
“Davis, one of his targets is your dad.”
Davis felt the world turn red again. He fought to keep his clenching hand from crushing the phone. “One?”
“Jim Gage is the other. The cops won’t believe me, I don’t know what to do…”
“Okay, stay calm. You call my dad, warn him, I’ll take care of Gage.”
“Be careful. I’d… I’d hate to have to give your eulogy and explain how you got killed by an octogenarian.”
***
Hood up, hands in his jacket pockets, Davis stalked the sidewalk outside Gage’s house. I probably look like a serial killer, he mused. How apropos.
He dug into his pant pocket and felt the rosary. Didn’t count it, just gave it a quick squeeze. This was God’s work. He’d been given this… gift for a reason. No one ever said being a disciple would be easy. Look at Saint Paul. He’d been decapitated. Being apart from Chloe was one thing, but being apart from his head?
Maybe he should get a dog so he could look like he was taking it for a walk when he was hunting. Funny the things you thought about when you were about to kill someone.
Chloe, sprawled at his feet, her cheek nuzzling his thigh, golden hair tickling his skin Stop it! He had to pay attention. A telephone repairman was at Gage’s door. Could Volk have cut the phone lines, then posed as a repairman to get in? It’s what Davis would’ve done. If he were a murderer. But he wasn’t.
Not really.
Davis walked across the street and lawn, feeling the sprinkles dapple him. The water was cold when it hit his face. Not at all like blood. He wiped it off. Looked in the living room window. The repairman was going through his toolbox. You’re losing it, Davey. It’s all in your head. C’mon. Demons? Superpowers? You’ve finally gone off the deep end, just like Chloe’s mom. Remember the nightmares? You two are gonna be cellmates and she’s gonna watch you, just like when you came over to play, because she knows. You’re gonna abandon Chloe. Just. Like. Her. Mom.
“Shut up,” Davis whimpered into the window, his breath fogging the glass. “I’m a hero. A crusader.”
The repairman pulled piano wire out of his toolbox. Volk.
Davis crashed through the window as Harry looped the wire around his victim’s neck. Davis punched him in the back of the head, then flung him away. Gage hit the floor, gagging.
“Get out of here!” He helped Gage up. “Run!”
The beast sensed danger. Davis turned just in time to feel cold steel enter his stomach. Volk had a knife.
“Kids these days.” Volk twisted the blade.
Davis shoved him back with the last of his strength. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? He needed the Red.
This man was a murderer. He’d killed two people. He’d planned to kill Jonathan. Planned to take away Davis’s father.
The Red welcomed him back with open arms.
Davis plucked the knife out of his body, the wound closing up as Volk watched in disbelief. “I’m sorry, was this what you were hoping for?” He drove the knife into Volk’s chest. Again and again, manmade jaws snapping, flesh tearing and blood falling, the Red staying longer this time, demanding a greater sacrifice. Until Volk’s entire chest was a bloody mess, ribs exposed, organs unspooling. Davis watched his heart beat its last.
The cops would arrive soon. He should wipe the knife down and leave it. Bring gloves next time. But he didn’t want to let it go. He wanted a trophy to mark his victory, something to replace the scar he couldn’t keep. Hiding it in his jacket, he ran.
***
“I hope I don’t make you too self-conscious, but no one’s ever taken me flying on a first date before,” Lois said.
Clark shouted to be heard over the rotors. “If you know of a decent Italian restaurant in Smallville, I’m sure my pilot would appreciate the off-time.”
“I mean you come on strong.”
“You have a problem with strong men?”
“Not as long as they can back it up,” Lois smirked.
Clark leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Lois, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” His phone rang.
“I think your bullshit detector might be pointed the wrong way.”
Clark shot her a look as he answered. “Yes? Understood. Right away.” He snapped the phone shut. “I’m afraid I have to step out for a moment. I’ll catch up on the restaurant.”
“How, with your teleporter?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He knocked on the pilot’s compartment. “Bring us down.” Turned back to Lois. “I’ll run.”
***
Blood ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Even the hardened mercenaries who stood watch were unnerved by the ferocity of the killing.
Lex stepped around the pools of blood. “I don’t think we’ll be getting any answers out of him. What do you think, Clark? Good resume for your team?”
“Well, it depends on how many words he can type per minute.” Clark knelt down to examine the body. “Cuts go deep, shows power. But that’s not enough to prove he’s a Kryp.”
With a creaking-stretching-sucking noise, what was left of Harry Volk’s body tanned like leather. The skin wrinkled, the hair turned white, but the blood stayed the same.
“But he was,” Lex said, crouching beside Clark.
“So. The game’s afoot.”
Author’s notes: This chapter covers 1x06 Hourglass.
One of the really fun parts of doing an AU was tackling the Smallville mythos from Davis’s unique perspective, not only with the guilt and the angst, but just in how he applies Occam’s Razor and says “aliens? No, no, no. This must be angels and demons.” Let’s be honest, is “God wants me to protect the world” any crazier than “my dead alien British dad wants me to protect the world. Or conquer it. Our continuity is pretty fucked-up. Also, occasionally he’s Lionel Luthor”?
And, unlike a lot of heroic narratives, what Davis is doing is taking a toll on him. Not just the clichéd “oh no, I can’t be with Chloe, woe is me,” but psychological depth charges being dropped into his subconscious. Which is why he ends up clinging to his faith as hard as he does, which you’re going to see more of in coming chapters, how he justifies his actions to himself and how that changes him.
Since this was such a heavy chapter -- and as I said before, I don’t want to just repeat season one with Davis as Clark – I decided to break things up with Lois and Clark meeting and hitting it off. Maybe create a little subconscious dislike of how Clark has it so easy while Davis is struggling so hard to stay afloat? You tell me, fandom. You tell me. There really is nothing like Clois banter, especially since the Chlavis isn’t at a very bantery place right now.
Oh, and to all you people who don't like Clois... Ha! Too late, you're on part six of a 21-part story. Dare you stop reading? DARE YOU? Fine, your loss, see if I care.
Fun fact: Davis’s inner dark side was originally referred to as the more prosaic “beast,” but I like 'the Red'. It’s more distinctive. Another rejected name was that Davis would call his inner demon “Screwtape.” Tell me someone thinks that’s clever. Anyway, the voice Davis gives to ‘Doomsday’ is an important character in its own right, so everyone, say hi.
You might have noticed some “absence makes the heart grow fonder” with Davis and Chloe this chapter. Even though they’re at the core of the story, I didn’t want them to overwhelm it, and I didn’t want their relationship to get overexposed. But don’t worry, next week is a Chlavis-palooza. It’s a chapter I’m very proud of, a very important turning point, and in lieu of my usual little list of things to expect, please accept three lines of dialogue.
“On the night Harry Volk died, you said you were going to protect Jim Gage. You were there.”
“I told you, Chloe, it was a commando, like the ones chasing Arkin.”
“They had guns. Not knives.”
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,933
Author’s Note: Betaed by
vagrantdream.Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark/Lois,
Last Part: Chapter 5
Next Part: Chapter 7
Summary: And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, “Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.”
Lois revised her list, deciding she hated retirement homes more than hospitals. They had the same kind of funky smell, but people went to hospitals to get better and only came to homes to die. She was definitely hoping she died before she got old.
One more minute of pill duty and she was going to need some herself. Going outside for a smoke, she nearly plowed into a rampaging Lana Lang. “Can you watch Harry a minute? I need to call my boyfriend. I try to be supportive of him.”
“Yeah, sure thing.” There was something wrong about that girl. While she went inside, Lois walked out on the pier over Lake Old People. Harry was looking out at the water. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Only if you share.”
***
“How do you lose a retiree?” Chloe asked twenty minutes later.
“I don’t know!” Lois checked behind the couch in Harry’s room. “I turn my back for one minute and he goes from Harry Bolston to Harry Houdini! I am not a professional caregiver! Yesterday, I was watering the flowers! And he was in a wheelchair, how was I supposed to know it had rocket boosters or something?”
Chloe checked the last closet. “What are you even doing here? The last thing I recall you volunteering for was a bikini car wash.”
“It saved the rec center, didn’t it? And as for why I’m here—“
Clark Luthor poked his head in the door. “So I hear you’re missing an old person?”
Lois didn’t, as a rule, swoon. However, to Chloe’s endless amusement, she did have a sort of sigh.
“Why? You have one you’re willing to spare?” Chloe asked, just before Lois gave her leg a stout kick.
“I’m fresh out at the moment, but maybe if we all looked, we can find him before he crosses the border.”
“Great idea!” Lois cheered. “Chloe, you search the building, Clark and I will look outside.”
Chloe knew which way the wind was blowing. “You two enjoy the view.”
“We’ll look high and low,” Clark promised smarmily.
That left Chloe alone. She fanned herself sardonically. “Any more like you back home, Mr. Luthor? Woof.”
Then she noticed the picture on the wall and the darts sticking out of it.
“Okay, when did the vending machines start offering Haterade?”
***
Lois would give the retirement home one thing. It had some prime real estate. With the bright sunlight perfectly balancing the shady trees, the crisp green grass melting underfoot, and of course the company, Lois couldn’t think of a better way to be looking for a dirty old man.
“So, what’s the pride and joy of Luthorcorp doing washing bedpans?”
“Community service,” Clark said smoothly.
Lois laughed. “Great, you’re not one of those stuffy, humorless millionaires I hear so much about.”
“I’m going to tell Bruce you said that. Really, if there’s one thing my father’s taught me, it’s to always respect my elders.” Pain flittered across Clark’s face like an old war wound acting up. “Always.”
“Yeah, my dad’s a hardass too,” Lois joked.
“He’s not like… he’s not like that. He’s just very… paternal. He wants me to live up to my full potential.”
“Me, I think potential’s useless if you can’t decide what it’s for. Hey, I might have it in me to be the best elephant masturbator in the world, who gives a crap? Ain’t happening!”
“I think you have the potential to be much more than an elephant masturbator. You did just rope a multimillionaire into a geezer hunt. There are presidents who can’t do that.” Clark stopped, putting a hand on Lois’s arm. “Lois?”
“Yes Clark? Can I call you Clark?”
“I think Harry has well and truly flown the coop. Looks like I owe you an old guy.”
“I’ll settle for dinner.”
Clark’s eyebrows made a bid for his hairline. “In Metropolis, girls don’t tend to be so forward.”
“Really? I’ll have to leave it off the world tour. Pick me up at 8?”
“If I can fit in it between being a rich playboy.”
“Right, let me give you my number—“
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you.”
“I’m not listed.”
“I’m rich. I have abilities beyond the ken of mortal men.”
***
Davis felt the worn bone of the rosary beads travel through his fingers. His loft hardly had the atmosphere of a proper church, but it gave him privacy and solitude, both of which he valued. The rosary was a gift, passed down from his grandfather to his mother and now to him. Even as a boy, his mother’s Catholicism had seemed so much more real than Jonathan’s Protestant faith. The tenets of original sin and its forgiveness had resonated heavily upon him, and now, only with the rosary in hand did he feel peace replace the restlessness constantly driving him.
He counted off the decades as he read. “And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.’ And he said unto them, ‘I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.’"
His phone buzzed and he answered it to be greeted with a blitz of Chloe-sounding noise. “Wait, what?”
He heard Chloe take a deep breath. “I think Harry Bolston has rejuvenated himself to go on a killing spree. And my cousin has a date with Clark Luthor.”
“Okay, I believe the part about Harry Bolston, but what’s this about Lois and Clark Luthor?”
“Never mind that, I just thought you ought to know!” She laid it out quick. The piano teacher that Harry Bolston, nee Volk, had failed to kill 60 years ago had been found dead. Chloe had found a dartboard with her picture on it in Harry’s room. And Harry had gone missing near a pond full of meteor rocks.
“So you’re sure he’s young again and doesn’t just have the proportionate strength and speed of pond scum?”
“Davis, one of his targets is your dad.”
Davis felt the world turn red again. He fought to keep his clenching hand from crushing the phone. “One?”
“Jim Gage is the other. The cops won’t believe me, I don’t know what to do…”
“Okay, stay calm. You call my dad, warn him, I’ll take care of Gage.”
“Be careful. I’d… I’d hate to have to give your eulogy and explain how you got killed by an octogenarian.”
***
Hood up, hands in his jacket pockets, Davis stalked the sidewalk outside Gage’s house. I probably look like a serial killer, he mused. How apropos.
He dug into his pant pocket and felt the rosary. Didn’t count it, just gave it a quick squeeze. This was God’s work. He’d been given this… gift for a reason. No one ever said being a disciple would be easy. Look at Saint Paul. He’d been decapitated. Being apart from Chloe was one thing, but being apart from his head?
Maybe he should get a dog so he could look like he was taking it for a walk when he was hunting. Funny the things you thought about when you were about to kill someone.
Chloe, sprawled at his feet, her cheek nuzzling his thigh, golden hair tickling his skin Stop it! He had to pay attention. A telephone repairman was at Gage’s door. Could Volk have cut the phone lines, then posed as a repairman to get in? It’s what Davis would’ve done. If he were a murderer. But he wasn’t.
Not really.
Davis walked across the street and lawn, feeling the sprinkles dapple him. The water was cold when it hit his face. Not at all like blood. He wiped it off. Looked in the living room window. The repairman was going through his toolbox. You’re losing it, Davey. It’s all in your head. C’mon. Demons? Superpowers? You’ve finally gone off the deep end, just like Chloe’s mom. Remember the nightmares? You two are gonna be cellmates and she’s gonna watch you, just like when you came over to play, because she knows. You’re gonna abandon Chloe. Just. Like. Her. Mom.
“Shut up,” Davis whimpered into the window, his breath fogging the glass. “I’m a hero. A crusader.”
The repairman pulled piano wire out of his toolbox. Volk.
Davis crashed through the window as Harry looped the wire around his victim’s neck. Davis punched him in the back of the head, then flung him away. Gage hit the floor, gagging.
“Get out of here!” He helped Gage up. “Run!”
The beast sensed danger. Davis turned just in time to feel cold steel enter his stomach. Volk had a knife.
“Kids these days.” Volk twisted the blade.
Davis shoved him back with the last of his strength. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? He needed the Red.
This man was a murderer. He’d killed two people. He’d planned to kill Jonathan. Planned to take away Davis’s father.
The Red welcomed him back with open arms.
Davis plucked the knife out of his body, the wound closing up as Volk watched in disbelief. “I’m sorry, was this what you were hoping for?” He drove the knife into Volk’s chest. Again and again, manmade jaws snapping, flesh tearing and blood falling, the Red staying longer this time, demanding a greater sacrifice. Until Volk’s entire chest was a bloody mess, ribs exposed, organs unspooling. Davis watched his heart beat its last.
The cops would arrive soon. He should wipe the knife down and leave it. Bring gloves next time. But he didn’t want to let it go. He wanted a trophy to mark his victory, something to replace the scar he couldn’t keep. Hiding it in his jacket, he ran.
***
“I hope I don’t make you too self-conscious, but no one’s ever taken me flying on a first date before,” Lois said.
Clark shouted to be heard over the rotors. “If you know of a decent Italian restaurant in Smallville, I’m sure my pilot would appreciate the off-time.”
“I mean you come on strong.”
“You have a problem with strong men?”
“Not as long as they can back it up,” Lois smirked.
Clark leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Lois, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” His phone rang.
“I think your bullshit detector might be pointed the wrong way.”
Clark shot her a look as he answered. “Yes? Understood. Right away.” He snapped the phone shut. “I’m afraid I have to step out for a moment. I’ll catch up on the restaurant.”
“How, with your teleporter?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He knocked on the pilot’s compartment. “Bring us down.” Turned back to Lois. “I’ll run.”
***
Blood ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Even the hardened mercenaries who stood watch were unnerved by the ferocity of the killing.
Lex stepped around the pools of blood. “I don’t think we’ll be getting any answers out of him. What do you think, Clark? Good resume for your team?”
“Well, it depends on how many words he can type per minute.” Clark knelt down to examine the body. “Cuts go deep, shows power. But that’s not enough to prove he’s a Kryp.”
With a creaking-stretching-sucking noise, what was left of Harry Volk’s body tanned like leather. The skin wrinkled, the hair turned white, but the blood stayed the same.
“But he was,” Lex said, crouching beside Clark.
“So. The game’s afoot.”
Author’s notes: This chapter covers 1x06 Hourglass.
One of the really fun parts of doing an AU was tackling the Smallville mythos from Davis’s unique perspective, not only with the guilt and the angst, but just in how he applies Occam’s Razor and says “aliens? No, no, no. This must be angels and demons.” Let’s be honest, is “God wants me to protect the world” any crazier than “my dead alien British dad wants me to protect the world. Or conquer it. Our continuity is pretty fucked-up. Also, occasionally he’s Lionel Luthor”?
And, unlike a lot of heroic narratives, what Davis is doing is taking a toll on him. Not just the clichéd “oh no, I can’t be with Chloe, woe is me,” but psychological depth charges being dropped into his subconscious. Which is why he ends up clinging to his faith as hard as he does, which you’re going to see more of in coming chapters, how he justifies his actions to himself and how that changes him.
Since this was such a heavy chapter -- and as I said before, I don’t want to just repeat season one with Davis as Clark – I decided to break things up with Lois and Clark meeting and hitting it off. Maybe create a little subconscious dislike of how Clark has it so easy while Davis is struggling so hard to stay afloat? You tell me, fandom. You tell me. There really is nothing like Clois banter, especially since the Chlavis isn’t at a very bantery place right now.
Oh, and to all you people who don't like Clois... Ha! Too late, you're on part six of a 21-part story. Dare you stop reading? DARE YOU? Fine, your loss, see if I care.
Fun fact: Davis’s inner dark side was originally referred to as the more prosaic “beast,” but I like 'the Red'. It’s more distinctive. Another rejected name was that Davis would call his inner demon “Screwtape.” Tell me someone thinks that’s clever. Anyway, the voice Davis gives to ‘Doomsday’ is an important character in its own right, so everyone, say hi.
You might have noticed some “absence makes the heart grow fonder” with Davis and Chloe this chapter. Even though they’re at the core of the story, I didn’t want them to overwhelm it, and I didn’t want their relationship to get overexposed. But don’t worry, next week is a Chlavis-palooza. It’s a chapter I’m very proud of, a very important turning point, and in lieu of my usual little list of things to expect, please accept three lines of dialogue.
“On the night Harry Volk died, you said you were going to protect Jim Gage. You were there.”
“I told you, Chloe, it was a commando, like the ones chasing Arkin.”
“They had guns. Not knives.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 07:50 pm (UTC)I wish I could have seen Lois' face when Clark said he'd run, not because I think she'd get it but because it's just fun to see Lois be galactically stupid. And it's nice to see Clois happening, even in this totally messed up reality (which I love to death!). And Chloe feeling the need to tell Davis about the Clois was just so real. Even if an old man has become young and gone on a killing spree, your cousin hooking up with a billionaire is still news.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-20 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 09:54 pm (UTC)So excellent. Davis is now more complicit in the killing. It's not some heat-of-the-moment accident, he sort of set to do it, and the violence with which he did it . . . Yet at the same time, I have the sense he has no real control, his natural need to protect the people he loves and people in general led him to direct Doomsday's rage in this fashion, but if not he would have blacked out and killed anyway. He might not know this yet, because he doesn't know what's wrong with him, but the hard reality is that he did less bad than he could have done. And you've got the other side of the superhero coin here. When a hero goes to "stop" a "bad guy" its always with the known possibility of having to kill them, but it's portrayed in a diffeernt way, as not their fault or a necessary acceptable outcome. Davis does it and feels the blood on his hands.
And there is a sort of Occam's Razor to feeling that God gave you powers for a reason, that he wants you to smite wickedness and all that. To a human that would make much more sense than the truth and how else do you cope?
I don't dislike Clois. The smarmy, luthorized Clark is amusing though :) I bet Tom Welling would have enjoyed playing that.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-20 10:58 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're liking the moral ambiguity, because I didn't want to write The Punisher. Here, just because Davis kills bad people doesn't mean he's not a killer (or, on the flipside, some kind of supervillain who deserves to be shunned and hated), and that fine line he's walking is about to get a whole lot finer...
no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 03:23 am (UTC)i like dark davis and i really want to see where you go w/ this... i wait anxiously until you can post the next chapter :)
AMAZING JOB!!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 01:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-18 08:56 pm (UTC)I like the use of "The Red". It fits with how he seems to be experiencing his Dooms side, and avoids the implicit moral judgments of "beast".
Oh, God, Luthor!Clark is such a douche, but he's an entertaining douche and I love him.
As one who doesn't normally like SV!Clois (due to both characters' fuckwittery), I still found them adorable and fun here, as anticipated. Luthor!Clark and this version of SV!Lois are a great match and entertaining to watch. Zod help me, I am looking forward to the Clois subplot almost as much as I look forward to Davis killing people and making out with Chloe (that is, a lot).
no subject
Date: 2009-07-20 10:55 pm (UTC)