#m:kal

[dylan-owhinin]

text messages between oliver and clark.

[dylan-owhinin]

Lois: The disappearing acts, the half-baked excuses ... all this time, I just coughed it up to a classic to a classic case of Peter Pan syndrome,

[dylan-owhinin]

two prophecies, two wars — one bond.

[dylan-owhinin]

I'm not doin; fine. I'm desecrating lives. I boned a phone booth of a lady shaky heinous crimes. Nailing hands down to floorboards. Angry side gone overboard.

[dylan-owhinin]

The penthouse was brightly lit with colorful furniture and large open windows, the only stain in the otherwise flawless home was the scum that is Morgan Edge whom stood over the bar pouring tumblers of scotch for himself and Kal. “I have a new job for you. For only you. It would take a man of your caliber to execute such a request.” Morgan went on in his raspy, weak tone that had been faded out by many cigars and scotch over the years. “There’s this club- you ever heard of it?” the card along with the glass of scotch was handed down to Kal who sat on a winding couch made of white leather. “Yeah, I have. It’s only the hottest most covert club there is. I had to use my talents to get in.” Kal admitted, then reverted his green hues to the flat-screen television in front of him. However his attention to the football game had crawled toward the back of his mind and his interest in what Morgan wanted was peaked, not that he would show it. He’d rather play aloof and make Morgan beg for his help. “Well this club had made quite the splash all over my business. We’re soaked in its venom. I want you to help me convince them to tie in with us.” Morgan decided he had been hovering long enough and finally took a seat- but this didn’t help Kal’s demeanor, he still looked standoffish. “You know, I’m really getting sick of this job. It’s not that fun anymore. I may retire.” If Edge could, he’d rip Kal’s head off, but he couldn’t and so he settled for biting the inside of his cheek to keep calm and not yell. “What if I did something for you? In return for your service?” Kal looked from the corner of his eye and snorted as if to say there was nothing in this world or any other that he could offer him. “I know about that burn on your chest, I know about the red kryptonite on your finger. What I don’t know is why you continue to wear it even though it’s killing you. But what I do know is I could help…. I have some of the best doctors in my pocket, you wouldn’t have to be in pain anymore.” Very observant, Kal thought. It was the burn that keeps him from wearing the ring for too long. His biological father, now nothing more than an artificial intelligence hosted from an ice fortress in the artic, burned a symbol into his torso. He wished for him to return home and to start his destiny, but Clark rebelled against it when he destroyed the ship which resulted in a sonic boom and injured his mother, killing her unborn child- his sister. The longer Clark wears the red-k  the more it effects his judgement- Jor-El uses the burn to force Clark to remove the ring but Clark never leaves it off for too long before slipping it back on and reabsorbing its influences over him. He has to stay numb after all that he’d done, he just has to. “Fine – there is something you could do for me,” Kal smirked, turning off the television and pivoting his body so that he was looking directly at Morgan Edge. “I’ll help you get your club- and you help me kill my father.” 

“Deal.”  

The club was just as lit as it were any other night. The DJ had the best beats, as if compelled to spin the sickest music ever. The dancers all had bodies of goddesses, especially Seraphina whom had just sashayed out on stage with a huge snake draped over her petite frame. Kal swallowed thick, his heart accelerating as he was drawn closer to the stage. Suddenly a hand went around his shoulder to stop him from getting any closer and though Kal could just as easily break his entire arm, he didn’t. “Trust me, I know she’s pretty. But we have rules here.” Kal turned to face this guy, though he didn’t want to miss a blink of what this girl had going on. “Yeah, I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t do rules.” A smirk touched the corners of his lips, eyes sparkling like he’d just asked a woman to marry him. It was hard to believe such nastiness left a mouth that looked like his; pouty lips, perfect bone structure, and eyes that shimmered like sapphire. “I’m here on behalf of Morgan Edge. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s your competition, but not anymore. He’d like to extend a hand – join you guys and share all profit.” Kal looked back onto the stage, wanting to nothing more than to sit down and let her entrance him, but unfortunately he had business to do. “Yeah- we don’t need Morgan Edge’s connection. He’s a con-man. He’s dirty- he has blood stains between his grubby little fingers that dates back decades. Tell your boss, thanks but no thanks.” Kal ignored him- still watching Seraphina glow. “Look, you can stay for the show. Just don’t make me have to get ugly by the end of it.” That drew Kal’s attention back, his face a mixture of amusement and impatience. “What was that? I’m sorry. Did you just choose plan: B? God, I love plan: B. it means I get to unleash this…this insatiable anger that lives inside me, clawing, fighting to get out. And once I let it take over – there’s no turning it off.” The stage light glinted off of a desert eagle that was now pointed right between Kal’s eyes. Though not a bead of sweat came to surface, Kal looked as indifferent as he did 30 seconds prior to the gun being shoved in his face. “Cowboys and Indians, it’s been a long time since I’ve played this game.” Boyishly savage, Kal gave a picture-perfect smile and then punched a hole through the man’s chest. The gun had gone off and the bullet ricocheted, killing the man who was slipping money into the dancer’s thong, blood misted her face and Kal turned apologizing with mocked shame as he dropped the messy heart from his fist. “But at least you got the money first, right?” and there it was, that smirk as cool as the ocean but as dark as its bottom.

Before Kal had even the slightest of chance in turning back around to face the crowd and demand order, gun fire had commenced and there was an all-out war. Bullets were bouncing off the super-powered assassin like it was target practice, every single man and woman bearing a firearm was using it. The entire room had filled with smoke and only then did the bullets cease, however when the fog cleared everyone was surprised not to find a body riddled with holes. Then on stage materialized a man, his clothes all torn, his skin charcoaled, but his smirk still intact- and to his left under his arm was Seraphina, his hostage. “Your guns don’t work on me. Let’s play us a new game? Cowboys and Indians is fun, but hide and seek is so much better.” In a flash he was gone. 

Outback in the warehouse where they conducted their seediest of business, Kal stood a few feet from Seraphina who he let go and left unharmed. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not here to hurt you – or anyone. My boss wants a piece of this club.” after a moment of nothing but gasps and the sound of a pounding heart, Kal retried. “You’re safe, I promise.”