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Black and Red

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Summary: Two wrongs don't make a right, but what about two Big Bads? Clark & Willow; substances within may resemble crack.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Smallville > Willow-CenteredCaminusFR1822,527062,29327 Oct 0830 Oct 08No

A Revolving Door Would Be Of The Good

Disclaimer: The BtVSverse and all of its contents are owned by Joss Whedon. Smallville used to be owned by the WB before the frog croaked; now it's owned by the CW or something like that. Superman is probably owned by someone too, though I'm buggered if I know who. I own a laptop and a box of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch and this will not get me any or anyone else any money.

Spoilers: BtVSverse through all of Season Six. Smallville through 3x01.

***

Clark Kent smirked as he ripped Lionel's vault apart piece by piece, on the 60th floor of LuthorCorp Plaza. Honestly, he was in and out of this office so much lately that if Lex was still alive he might ask him if his father could get him a key. It would almost be novel to actually show up here one day without having to break his way in. No matter, it wasn't like beating the building's crack security was a problem for Clark. Not that he had ever really been Clark; he was Kal-El, the alien from another planet.

Clark actually was a bit cautious in shoving the vault door inside; this thing had had meteor rocks in it the last time he'd looked, and it would be a really annoying surprise to find himself suddenly helpless on the ground with the ruins of the LuthorCorp vault door scattered around him. In any case though, they weren't there now, and with a quiet chuckle Clark chucked the multiton door through the window to fall to the ground below. That might cause a bit of a stir, on second thought, but what's done is done, as his good old dad used to say, and he proceeded to get on with the errand. With the fortunate absence of meteor rocks from the area, excepting the extremely useful red one on his ring finger, it wasn’t like anybody could stop him anyway.

He grabbed the little box he’d been sent to retrieve and he was about to stroll out of the office, when against all reasonable probability, someone floated in through the now destroyed window. And what a someone she was.

She was maybe a foot shorter than him, though her eyes were actually just above his, due to the floating and all. They were jet black, just like her hair, and her outfit for that matter. This girl apparently had a serious thing for black. The Goth look was complemented by this whole weird veiny thing she had going on under her pale skin, which was definitely not as off putting as one would expect. Her short black hair sort of floated around her head and she was wearing a smile more predatory than Chloe’s when she was after a story.

The girl spoke first. “Well, you saved me some work there big guy, but I’m afraid I’m gonna need to take that package from you.” She didn’t seem to think it would be particularly challenging, from her tone of voice.

Well, wasn’t this interesting, Clark mused. Not one, but two people wanted to steal the same box from the big vault on the same day, and he didn’t even know what the stupid box held yet. Maybe there was a supervillian scavenger hunt today or something. “Sorry, but I’m already being paid a whole lot of zeroes to get this thing, whatever it is. I wouldn’t mind a cute girl like you tagging along to spend some of it with me though.”

She laughed. It wasn’t a very nice sound. She floated closer lazily, until she was face to face with Clark. “I don’t swing that way, farm boy.” Her voice changed, now suddenly an octave deeper than Clark’s. “Now make with the handing over or become acquainted with your bright and shiny future as a red stain on the wall.”

Clark smiled. He liked this girl, she had spunk, maybe he’d play with her for a bit. He put his hand on her chest and gently shoved her backwards through the air. “I’m tough to hurt.”

“Bored now. Congelare.” Clark suddenly couldn’t so much as twitch. The girl moved around his hand, reached into his pocket, and grabbed the little white box. Seconds after she turned her back, Clark finally broke out of the… whatever it was, and rushed her. He used his speed to body slam her and knocked her across the room and into the wall, sending the package flying out of her hand and off into another corner of the room. Initially she dropped to the ground, and Clark was about to just grab the box and flee, but astoundingly, she got right back up with only a trickle of red (so she wasn’t ALL black and white after all) blood running from her nose.

“That should have held you for at least an hour. Though honestly, maybe I should have expected better from someone that just rips open vaults like microwave popcorn bags. And ow! That hurt!” She waved her hand and suddenly Clark was flying toward the busted window. He made a desperate grab for a metal strut as he was launched out and just managed to get hold of it, bending it out of shape in the process and dangling Clark over a sixty story drop.

Slowly, he hauled himself back up from the precipice, and saw the girl kneeling on the ground. The package had been opened and she was holding a vial filled with blood in her left hand and waving her right back and forth over it, mumbling in some sort of foreign language and emitting a faint rainbow glow. It was his blood, obviously. And it had been in Lionel Luthor’s vault in Metropolis, was wanted by some seedy crime boss, and most recently was being used by the Wicked Chick of the West for a magic spell. Wonderful.

She suddenly stopped and let out a noise that sounded like something between an animal cry and human scream, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

She chucked the vial across the room and it shattered into a million pieces, spraying drops of blood everywhere. “NO! The Goddess damn them all! It really is impossible.” The last was said with an eerie, resigned tone, her voice breaking as she started to cry. “It just wasn’t quite right.” She broke down after that, and just sobbed.

Clark, at this point, was at a little bit of a loss for what to do exactly. After about half a minute of sobbing, he walked over and put his hand on her shoulder in a vaguely comforting manner. She looked up. “Oh. Now the big can opener demon guy is coming to rub it in. That I failed. That I’m not good enough, and I’m never going to get my Tara back. And now I’m all evil and all my friends hate me and Tara’s gone forever and my nose hurts.” With the last, she glared at him through her tears. It was a surprisingly good pout under the circumstances.


***

Author's Note: Continue? [Y/N]. Feel free to tear me apart on anything up to and including spelling/grammar.
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