Crossover fic: Wish - part one
Jan. 23rd, 2012 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meridian_rosePart one of two. Please see the index post DW / LJ for the full summary and warnings, and a link to the AO3 single entry version.
Anya had chosen to appear right inside the study of Luthor manor – although the security was laughable, mere window dressing, and she probably could have walked straight through the impressive entranceway without a problem.
She was probably a little underdressed, given the architecture and expensive furnishings, though she knew she looked good in the red skirt and fashionable light coloured blouse. Around her neck was a small amulet which no-one was getting their hands on this time around. Vengeance was her true calling, she realised that now. Once a demon – no, make that twice a demon – always a demon. Or something.
Lionel heard her approach even if he couldn’t see her, head tracking her movements. For some unimaginable reason he had been facing the window.
“Lex?”
“No.” She walked slowly towards him. He had a cane nearby and she tried unsuccessfully to put herself between him and it. Humans could be dangerous creatures, some more so than demons.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” he demanded.
“That’s not important,” she answered. She perched herself on the desk nearby. “I just came to talk.”
Lionel muttered something unpleasant. “Did Lex ask you to come here? Some sort of psychiatrist?”
Anya shook her head, realized what a pointless activity that was, and said, “No. Although you could say I’m a counsellor of sorts. I fix things.”
“I don’t think you can fix anything here,” Lionel told her.
“You’d be surprised.” Anya hesitated. “This isn’t my patch, you know, I’m just covering for someone. Although I must say, my own recently adopted town of Sunnydale has some frightening similarities. Frightening as in oh-dear-god-what-is-that-thing?” She laughed. Lionel didn’t.
Undeterred, she continued, “Also, I’m usually with the whole woman scorned thing. Which you clearly aren’t. A woman. Or, for that matter,” she added, “scorned.”
Lionel sat forwards and reached for his cane. “Do you have a point?”
“Yes. I’m getting to it,” she said huffily. “Now, I’ve done a little research, spoken to a few people. I’m amazed, actually, that I’m here to help you with vengeance rather than to serve justice upon you. You’ve done some terrible things."
He didn't react to this assertion, which told her he knew he'd done some terrible things – terrible from a certain point of view, at least – and she did admire a man who owned his responsibilities.
“Although,” she went on brightly, warming to her subject, “are you sure you haven’t been cursed before? What with meteor storms almost killing your son and tornadoes- and, well, look at you -”
Lionel switched the cane to his left hand and reached out for the telephone with his right, fumbled, but found it, and picked up the receiver. “You have one minute to start to making sense before I call the authorities. Start with your name.”
Anya glared at him, angry at being spoken to in this impolite manner. She’d turned men inside out for less. After a moment she found glaring to be as pointless as nodding and gave in. “My name is Anyanka,” she said sternly.
This seemed to appease him and he put down the phone. “Very well, Anyanka. What is it you want? Revenge of some sort?”
She shook her head again out of habit. “You have it wrong. I’m here to help you get vengeance. To put things right. For example, you weren’t always blind, were you?”
Anya knew all about anger, from the fiercest white-hot high through to its deepest glacial depth. She also knew all about the concept humans called “pain” and the fascinating varieties, from the physical to the mental, emotional and even spiritual variety. These were her bread and butter, so to speak, clouding the mind and heart enough to have someone summon her and wreak their revenge. So, when Lionel was silent for a long moment then answered, slowly, “No,” she knew that she had plenty to work with.
“You must blame your son Lex for at least some of this. Not just the choices he made for your treatment, either. I mean, if you hadn’t had to come out to him in such bad weather…” And his body language marked her as right.
“I blame him for this completely,” Lionel said sharply.
“He’s headstrong,” she went on, finding her way now.
Lionel gave a sharp laugh. “Reckless,” he said. “And stubborn.”
“Ever think it would have been easier if he’d been a daughter? I could turn him into a girl. Would you like that?” Anya asked, thoughtfully, still trying to twist things into an area she knew well. She added knowledgably, “Girls are easier to control.”
“I wanted a son,” Lionel said stiffly.
Anya scowled. “Of course,” she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice at this slight to her sex. “Because men are good and noble creatures while women are just things to be used and tossed aside?”
She stood abruptly. “Of course, you wanted a son to carry on the family name.” She paced the room, aware she was now on the wrong side of Lionel, tried to think of a way to get him at least wishing for something.
“A son,” she said, suddenly, in the same angry tone, “who has made you so proud.” She let the sarcasm sink in and went on, “Who disobeys you at every turn. A son who went behind your back. A son whose hasty actions left you blind and weak.”
She spun to face him, not giving him a chance to interrupt despite his obvious and growing fury. “You sent him here, didn’t you, to try to make him more responsible, the son you always wanted. But it simply made him more wilful.”
In full swing, now, Anya went on excitedly, “You should have kept him with you. In the city, at your side, where you could keep an eye on him.” She stopped short. “Sorry. No pun intended.” And, because she never knew when to stop, added, “You know, because you’re blind.”
Lionel tapped his cane impatiently on the floor. “I think I’ve heard enough,” he said tightly. “I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish here but you’re failing miserably.”
Anya strode across the room and knelt down to bring her face almost level with his. “What I’m hoping is to give you a second chance,” she said intently. “You must rue the day you sent Lex here, to this backwater settlement, where he’s been corrupted by these oh-so-nice people. They’re all so happy, aren’t they, with their little farms and their little coffee shop! It’s madness, given that a major disaster seems to happen here every couple of years but they keep on grinning like lunatics. You must long for things to have worked out differently.”
She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Come on. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you wish.”
“And then you’ll leave?” Lionel asked, exasperated.
Anya lifted his hand now, pressed his palm to her cheek, so he could feel it when she nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“Very well. You want to know what I wish? For my sight back, for some appreciation for all I’ve done for this town, for Lex to be more…more like me!” Lionel pulled his hand from her grasp and gestured. He named a few more things he would like, but it was useless, completely useless unless he said the words exactly.
“Excuse me,” Anya put in when he paused somewhere between owning Alaska (which as a ruthless capitalist she approved of) and becoming the President of the United States (which she really didn’t see the point of, what with the senate still telling you what to do).
She made a ‘time-out’ signal with both hands, looked down, realised her mistake and sighed. It seemed she had his attention anyway, so she said brightly, “Little ‘Jeopardy’ type rule. Can we please have your answer in the form of a wish?”
“A wish?” Lionel gave a harsh laugh. “A wish. You know, I do blame Lex. And I do blame this town. I’ll tell you what I wish.”
“Please do. I have other business to attend to,” Anya muttered.
Lionel showed no signs of having heard her. He stood and said, emphatically:
“I wish I’d never laid eyes on this damn place!”
Anya gave a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Her face contorted, seemed to turn inside out, veins and sinew on the surface, her voice deeper and more sinister as she intoned,
“Done.”
///
It was a warm afternoon in Metropolis and Lionel was sitting at his desk
Slowly he looked around the room, then put one hand to his face. He began laughing at the beauty and impossibility. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he was able to see again, and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Well,” he said, to himself, for he was plainly alone. “I don’t know who you were Anyanka, but thank you.”
He went to the window and looked out. You could see most of the city from here, the good parts like the better architecture and the odd green space holding out defiantly against the concrete and steel, while the homeless and the litter were too far away to be of note. It was good to be back here, to see it again. Good to see anything again.
With sudden inspiration Lionel returned to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He rifled through the papers and came up with a photograph. He sat down, suddenly sad, gazing at the portrait of the woman who had been his wife. Lillian. Lily. He’d forgotten what a beauty she had been with her delicate features, her long red hair. He’d avoided looking at any pictures of her for such a long time; after his accident he would have given anything to see an image of her again once more.
He allowed himself a few more moments of sentimentality, then put the photo away. He wasn’t about to let mawkishness take over his life now he’d got it back. He picked up his phone and pressed the button.
“Yes, Mr Luthor?” responded his secretary.
At least, he assumed it was his secretary. It wasn’t Ms Carstairs, that was for certain. No hint of a New York accent. A little thrown by this, Lionel said, “Could you come in here please?”
A moment later a woman, early thirties with cropped brown hair entered. “Yes, sir?”
Lionel stared at her until she was clearly uncomfortable.
“I – I wanted you to remind me of my appointments this afternoon,” he said. Fine, his secretary had changed. That was a minor thing, nothing to worry about. Just get straight back into the swing of things.
She nodded. “You have a three o clock with Mr Darrow and a meal booked for seven thirty with Mr Grey.”
“Mr Darrow?” Lionel asked, the name unfamiliar to him. This was clearly a mistake, judging by the look on the woman’s face.
“Yessir. Mr Jonathan Darrow. Managing Director of the Burlington subsidiary of Luthorcorp?” She reached behind her and shut the door, approached his desk. “Sir, are you all right”?
Lionel wasn’t about to be questioned. “Fine. Just…make sure my vehicle is ready.”
She nodded. “Yes, Mr Luthor. Anything else?”
“No. Leave.” Lionel knew he was being overly sharp, but really didn’t have the energy to be charming. What the hell was she talking about? He didn’t have a plant in Burlington; he’d never even been to Colorado…
I wish I’d never laid eyes on this damn place. Anyanka had said she could grant that wish and she had. He'd never been to Smallville. Ever.
The implication of this sank in. Okay, Lionel thought to himself. You wanted your sight back. You wanted to have not been injured. You didn’t want to change everything. Maybe you should have just wished you hadn’t gone to Smallville during the tornado.
Yet how could this be real? He hadn’t taken the girl seriously; he’d just been letting off steam, releasing some of his pent up frustration. Whoever heard of wishes coming true? It was a most disorderly way to run things. What if poor people could wish themselves into being millionaires!
However, Lionel hadn’t come this far by letting himself get distracted by details like human rights, legal permits that weren’t in his favour, or indeed, just why all his rivals for a contract had mysteriously dropped out or disappeared or simply underbid. So he returned to searching his desk. If he could figure out some of what this reality’s Lionel had achieved, he could playact his way for a while, until he knew all the history. Then surely there was some profit to be had from using his knowledge of the other reality – what he quickly nicknamed 'the Smallville reality' – in this one.
He found notes of various contracts and projects, all fairly familiar. A few were new to him and he skimmed them, quickly memorising the essential details. The Burlington branch wasn’t doing that well, which was probably what he and Darrow were meeting about. Where the hell was Lex, then, if not managing the company?
He reached into the bottom drawer and picked up another sheaf of files – and what was this? He picked up the plastic bottle and checked the label.
At his level of business almost everyone you met was on something; antidepressants, anti-ulcer drugs, sleeping tablets, caffeine pills, prescription painkillers that were being taken far longer than was necessary. Not to mention illegal drugs. Not him though. Fine scotch, brandy, sherry, but not drugs beyond the occasional necessary antibiotics. Never antidepressants.
Lionel stared at the bottle for a long moment. Judging by the amount of pills left and the issue date, he hadn’t been taking them much in this reality either. He threw them back in the drawer. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Perhaps he’d been a little more upset after Lillian’s death this time around, but now he was getting over it and cutting back on the medication. Yes, that made sense.
Still it seemed it wasn’t going to be easy to get a hold on this new reality as he thought. He reached over and used the phone again. Cautiously, his secretary entered.
“Ah, Janine,” he said experimentally. Her name had been all over the paperwork once he started looking. She nodded, obviously still smarting from his earlier treatment of her. “I’m sorry if I was a little brusque with you earlier.”
“Yessir.” She held his gaze almost defiantly. Lionel was begrudgingly impressed.
“I’m…” Lionel hesitated at the thought of showing weakness. “That is –”
“I understand.” Janine’s expression had softened.
Was he sleeping with her, Lionel wondered? She was attractive enough. No, he decided, despite the gentle tone she wasn’t flirting. There was some genuine feeling there though. Very odd.
“I need to see Lex,” he told her. He had to know where Lex was, what he was doing if not running the plant, and nothing he’d looked at today had mentioned his son’s name.
Janine blinked a few times and nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said gently. “I’ll have the car brought round.” She exited without waiting for his permission.
What was all that about, Lionel wondered. He searched through the papers for a moment longer until Janine knocked quietly and entered. She took his coat from the stand and gestured. “The limousine is waiting, sir.”
Lionel let her help him into the long blue coat and followed her out to the elevator, where she pushed the call button. Once inside however, he was on his own.
Chapter 2
The lobby looked exactly as he remembered it. A few people were milling around and he exchanged greetings cautiously, trying not to get involved in any conversations lest he put his foot in his mouth. The doorman ushered him out smoothly and the chauffeur had the car door open.
Staff, Lionel thought, were a luxury he had sometimes taken for granted. In the midst of this confusion at least there were people to lead him around, for as long as he needed to be led for.
The “Daily Planet” and a few financial papers were exactly where he expected them to be, and he flicked through the pages while they drove. Whatever else Anyanka had done, she hadn’t changed the date or time. The headlines were the same as he had heard on the radio that morning, shortly before Anyanka’s unexpected visit.
The limousine parked up and Lionel looked out. They were outside City General, Metropolis’s largest medical institute. The chauffeur got out and opened the door. Somewhat dazed, but with little choice now, Lionel put the paper down and got out. He suddenly wished he’d brought Janine with him.
He walked into the building with a sense of dread creeping over him and even the expensive coat couldn’t cover the chill. Not sure of what he was supposed to be doing, or where he was going, Lionel nevertheless knew exactly what to do next. Find someone who did know, and make it their problem.
It didn’t take long, for as soon as he got to the reception desk, he was recognised.
“Mr Luthor?” The nurse stood. “Did you lose your way again?” She smiled. “It’s a maze, isn’t it this place?” She waved to a colleague. “Angela, can you take Mr Luthor to see his son?”
Angela didn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but nodded. She gestured. “This way, sir.”
Okay, good, following again. Following was good, just until he could figure things out – like what the hell had happened to Lex? Lionel followed the nurse, not daring to ask any questions. While the nurse on reception hadn’t been downright condescending he got the impression he’d needed to be shepherded around a little too much. Coupled with the prescription medication he’d found and Janine’s obvious concern, Lionel felt that if he started asking odd questions he might end up in the psychiatric ward. “You see, I made this wish…” Hell, maybe he was crazy, but it beat being blind.
Thankfully, Angela seemed to be willing the elevator to hurry, and didn’t feel obliged to make small talk. When the elevator stopped she held the door and pointed, clearly not intending to get out with him. “Just round the corner, Sir. You remember now?”
Lionel nodded, which seemed the most appropriate response, got out, feeling abandoned as the elevator doors slid shut behind him. Shaking off his fears he took the corridor Angela had indicated. He came to a door where an armed guard met Lionel's eyes, nodded, and entered a keycode to open the door for him.
The security door closed behind him with a sound of terrible finality. Squaring his shoulders, Lionel turned right at the end of the short corridor, the only choice besides turning back. He found himself just outside a private room.
It was Lex’s private room. It was filled with equipment that a horrified Lionel could only assume was keeping his son alive.
They hadn’t been to Smallville so they hadn’t been there during the meteor shower, and that meant that Lex had kept his hair. Copper, like his mother’s, kept relatively short here. It was the only healthy looking thing about his son’s lifeless seeming body.
How could this have happened? What terrible incident had led to this?
Lionel turned away. The mental anguish was making itself felt, draining the blood flow to his extremities. He leant against the wall, off-balance now, fighting the urge to kneel on the floor and vomit. This was much worse than the moment he’d learnt Lillian was dying; she’d been so sick for so long there was an almost inevitability about it. But Lex…
Lionel pressed his forehead to the cool tiles, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The physical contact of the solid object helped ground him. He took a couple of deep breaths. After a few moments the nausea passed and he began to calm down. Things were bad, he reasoned, but there had to be some way to fix this.
Lionel pulled himself together, mentally, and physically too, standing upright and tugging at his coat. This wasn’t what he’d wished for at all. This was all Anyanka’s fault! The rage built up as he laid all of the blame firmly on her shoulders. How dare she! Who did she think she was?
“Anyanka!” he yelled, “Put this back! Anyanka!” He should have known there would be a price to pay. Who or what was she, anyway, to grant wishes that went so horribly wrong? Some kind of psychotic genie? He didn’t know how to get her back here, but felt compelled to yell again, “Any-“
“What?” she yelled back and he spun to find her, impossibly, just inches behind him.
He assessed her quickly, young, pretty, Caucasian, with blonde hair. wearing a tight fitting red dress, a necklace the only adornment he could see. Nothing to suggest she was anything other than human, despite her obvious powers.
“What is with all the yelling?” she demanded.
Lionel pointed a trembling finger towards Lex’s room. “What have you done?”
Anyanka glanced over. “Granted your wish. What are you complaining about?”
Lionel fought his rage. “Look what you’ve done. I didn’t wish for this.”
She seemed unconcerned. “You wished you had never laid eyes on Smallville. So now you haven’t. No plant there, hence not being there during tornado season, hence not blind. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
He shook his head fiercely. “No. Not this. Not Lex like this. What happened to him?”
“What always happens with your son. You fought with him. You made him so mad that he took his Ferrari out on a wet night in Metropolis and drove it into the side of the Daily Planet at a hundred miles an hour. The only plus side was no-one else was hurt.”
Lionel shook his head again. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he whispered. Anyanka’s words had a ring of truth. He and Lex rarely stopped fighting one way or another and Lex always drove recklessly.
Anyanka shrugged. “On the bright side he is much more like you now, what with the hair. And you have to admit, he’s not disobedient any more.”
“He’s my son!” Lionel yelled. “You put this back.” He grabbed hold of Anyanka by her arms and shook her, his lips curled back in a snarl. “You put it back right now!”
She turned, that was the only way he could describe it. Turned inside out, almost. Her face was suddenly a mass of veins and ruddy flesh. Horrified, he froze. She shrugged him off and slapped him hard, her nails scratching his cheek.
He stumbled back a step and when he looked up, she was back to normal, albeit angrier than before and with her arms tightly folded.
“How dare you,” she fumed. “You made your wish. Now you have to live it.”
Lionel touched the scratches. “What are you?” he asked, more afraid than he’d ever been in his life.
“Vengeance demon,” she said, accenting every syllable. “I serve vengeance upon those who deserve it, usually men who have hurt the women who love them. But as a favour to a friend who deals with unexpected life change, so's she could go on vacation somewhere with her new boyfriend, Fabio or Fabian or something, I agreed to cover for her. You were her next case. So I came to you and offered you a second chance. I can’t help it if you screwed it up.”
Lionel clung to the one thing he was certain of. “Put this back,” he insisted.
She shrugged. “You want to be blind again?” He hesitated and she gave a humourless smile. “Not so sure now?”
“Please,” Lionel said, an unfamiliar word. “Please, I don’t…I can’t…” He knew he was rambling and he hated himself for it.
Anyanka sighed. “Look, even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. New rules. One person, one wish, no recalls.”
“New rules?” Lionel asked incredulously. “There are rules?”
“Of course there are rules!” Anyanka laughed. “Otherwise poor people could just wish to be billionaires, couldn’t they?”
Had she read his mind? Lionel kept quiet as Anyanka explained. “Anyhow, there was this greedy little seventeen year old over in New York and she had sixteen boyfriends punished in a row, and she might have gotten away with it, except then she wanted to become Queen of England, and one of the British demons found out and she told D’Hoffryn and he said –“
“D’Hoffryn?”
Anyanka waved the name away like a troublesome fly. “My boss.”
“Can I talk to him?” Lionel asked. Man to man – man to male demon, anyway - he was sure he could soon sort this out.
Anyanka nodded brightly. “Right after you’re dead at my hand. You know, so you can get to the Otherworld.”
“What?” Lionel spluttered. “There’s got to be an easier way to get an appointment?”
“Sure.” Anyanka considered. “It’s Thursday now, so….in about twenty five years time.”
He shook his head. “There has to be another way.”
Anyanka put her head one side and nodded thoughtfully for a few moments, then said, “No.”
Lionel leaned back against the wall. He hadn't meant for this to happen. This couldn't be happening. Seeing his despair, Anyanka came over and tried to cheer him up.
“There, there,” she said in the manner of someone who had learnt her social skills by rote from a large print “Complete Beginner's Guide To”. “It isn’t so bad. At least you can see your son, now?”
She grinned and seemed disappointed that he didn’t react more favourably to this. “Fine. Have it your way. Your wish didn’t just ruin Lex’s life, you know.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Anyanka gestured to thin air. “You don’t realise? You haven’t thought about everyone else affected here?” She held out her hand. “Come here.”
Lionel hesitated only a moment. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere except here, at his son’s bedside, a terrible indicator of what he had done. He took Anyanka’s hand -
- and found himself standing in the middle of a road. A nearby sign said “Welcome to Smallville, Kansas” with a population indicator. Underneath a graphic of meteor rocks, it added helpfully, “The Meteor Capital of the World!”
“How touristy,” Anyanka said thoughtfully. “I could do with some meteor rock for my shop.”
“You have a shop?” Lionel asked doubtfully.
The demon nodded. “Which I have to get back to. Enjoy your visit.” With that, she was gone.
Lionel looked around him, but she had plainly vanished. Left with few choices, he headed towards the town. Usually he travelled by limo, but he recognised landmarks here and there. Seeing a familiar path, he took it, and soon came in sight of the Kent farm.
Not knowing what else to do, he knocked on the door. Martha Kent answered, but it wasn’t the woman he remembered. She seemed older, somehow.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Lionel realised he was staring. “You don’t know me,” he said, startled. Of course she wouldn’t. He’d never been to Smallville before.
“No.” She regarded him a moment longer. “Although you do look familiar.”
Yes, he thought, because even Smallville had magazines and television that brought images of the rich and famous into their lives. The Luthors were still rich and still well-known.
“I just…” What did he want? Probably to use the telephone and get out of here. Anyanka had dumped him in the middle of a town where he didn’t know anyone and without a vehicle; supposedly he was meant to be seeing what ruin he had brought to Smallville but how bad could it be? Martha was still here.
“Mrs Kent,” Lionel said, changing tack. “I just wanted to meet you and your husband. Your farm is quite near to the town and I was wondering how you felt about the cream corn factory.” That was what had brought him to Smallville the first time around.
Martha shook her head. “It’s not a cream corn factory anymore,” she said.
“It isn’t?”
“No.” Martha tugged her sweater closer around her and looked around as if she feared she was being spied on. “It’s the ore processing plant. For the meteor rocks.”
Up until that moment Lionel had forgotten all about not having control of the meteor rocks. That was something else he was going to have to correct. He wasn’t sure exactly what its properties were, but preliminary reports suggested unlimited potential, not least as an energy source.
“Wait a minute,” Martha said. “Now I remember. You’re Lionel Luthor. You were going to buy the factory but the deal fell through.” She shook her head fiercely. “I wish you had bought it, instead of Daniels. He works that place day and night, pouring the toxins into the streams.”
“Daniels?”
Another glance around the property. “Kane Daniels. He bought the factory and made it fully automated, cut most of the workface. He’s got too much money for it to be all from processing ore, God only knows what he’s up to.” She hesitated. “I shouldn’t be saying this.” She gestured. “Come in.”
The kitchen was warm and homely, the scent of freshly baked bread in the air. Martha made tea and they sat at the table, Martha clutching her cup tightly.
“This Daniels,” Lionel said at last. “You’re frightened of him?”
She nodded, ashamed. “We all are. He’s a monster. I mean, first it was the factory. With the radiation from the meteors it wasn’t fit for food production and he bought it for next to nothing and bankrupted the Rosses. Then he started acquiring businesses around the town. The Talon was the first. He married the owner, Nell, trying to gain standing in the community. He refurbished it, turned it into a coffee house. It was supposed to help Nell out but instead it’s a burden. He makes her work the café twelve, fifteen hours a day, even though there’s hardly any custom, and Lana misses too much school, helping out – trying to keep an eye on Nell, really.” Martha sipped at her tea.
“Lana’s her niece,” she said, realising the names meant nothing to him. “She was orphaned in the meteor storm. Nell adopted her. Now they both live in constant fear. We should do something about it, but those who oppose Daniels….” She bit at her lip, fighting for composure. Eventually she had enough self-control to look at Lionel again. She held his gaze for a long time, deciding his trustworthiness. “Let’s just say it’s not a good idea. For one thing, Daniels bought out the bank six months ago, so he owns the mortgages. Anyone who can get out of town, does. He’s torn the soul out of Smallville.”
She was silent, staring at the old china cup. Then, suddenly, she asked, “Are you here to buy the factory from Daniels?”
Lionel was stunned by the eagerness she displayed. She thought he was the cavalry! “Possibly,” he said. He didn’t want to commit to anything just yet. “I’m making some discreet enquiries.”
Martha nodded. “I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”
There was something else here, something wrong. The house was too quiet, too neat. Now he thought about it, Lionel realised the farm outside hadn’t been tended for some time.
“Where is your husband?” he asked.
Martha glanced upwards. “Sleeping. He sleeps a lot, since the accident.”
“Accident?”
She swallowed hard. “The tractor…they said it was mechanical failure…I don’t think so.” She fought back tears. “I’ve never thought so. As I said, those who oppose Daniels…. he even has the sheriff in his pocket. Our whole life was this farm but now with Jonathan unable to work, and the pollution here….”
“What about your son?” Lionel pressed.
She stared at him. “I…I don’t…I can’t have any children.” He'd found the proverbial straw, it seemed, for she bent over the table and began sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Slowly, he reached over and touched her shoulder. In another life he could have married her; her compassion, auburn hair, and gentle laugh all reminded him of Lillian. She’d thrown away her intellect and potential to become a farmer’s wife and yet whenever he saw her, or heard her voice, Lionel’s heart quickened. It had always been a useless fantasy until now. If Jonathan was badly hurt, who knew how long he would live? And then…
Lionel pushed aside these thoughts. He had other concerns right now, and if Anyanka had wanted to make him feel further guilt then she'd succeeded. Seeing this strong and powerful woman reduced to tears was enough to almost completely eclipse his selfish enjoyment at this normally forbidden physical contact.
“Don't be sorry," he said at least. "On the contrary, please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. My information must be wrong.”
She sat up, rubbed at her face. “There was a boy,” she said, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. “He was abandoned after the meteor storm. I wanted to keep him. The department of family services took him from me. They said we could apply for adoption…but he got placed with another family. I would have loved him with all my heart.” She closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks.
Without Lionel’s assistance the Kents hadn’t had a chance at keeping Clark. He’d never realised just how much the adoption had meant to them. Besides, there was the chance Clark Kent was special, very special. He'd have to find the boy. God only knows where he'd been placed or what his name was now. This was a serious matter and one he'd have to remedy as soon as possible – unfortunately, right now it wasn't the only serious matter on his mind.
Martha opened her eyes and sniffed. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’d forgotten. Your son…”
Lionel stood. “I must be going,” he said, sharper than he had intended the words to come out. He didn’t want to think about Lex. He didn’t want to watch Martha suffer any more. “I’ll see myself out.”
Outside there was a light drizzle starting. He pulled up the collar of his coat and started for the main town, more out instinct than any intellectual thought. Perhaps, he mused as he walked, now that he’d seen what had happened to Martha and Jonathan the demon would take pity on him and take him back to his office. If demons could even feel pity.
There was something eerie about the town. The scarcity of people didn’t have the feel of a small but welcoming community, but rather the aura of a ghost town, an old Wild West town being slowly abandoned now the gold was gone. There was graffiti on the front of some of the buildings he passed, something he didn’t ever remember seeing in Smallville. Worse was the charred remains of a car abandoned at the mouth of an alleyway.
He'd grown up in a bad neighbourhood so he knew one when he saw one. The problem here was that he was older now, and currently unarmed. Not feeling very safe, Lionel quickened his pace somewhat. He wasn’t sure where he was heading, until he came to the main streets, and spotted the Talon. So, this was the coffee shop Daniels owned. Half because he was curious, and half because it seemed safer to get off the streets, he went in.
A woman behind the counter looked up expectantly. She looked as washed out as the town did. “Lana! Customer,” she called behind her. To Lionel, she said, “Please take a seat.”
He did so, feeling very overdressed. The tables and floor were clean enough, but the décor had seen better days. The photocopied menu was simple; various coffees, teas, hot chocolate, plus a variety of cakes and muffins.
A girl came from the kitchen, her red check apron grubby. She hurried over, head bent. Lionel stared at her, trying to place her. Martha had mentioned her, but now that he saw her recognition flared in the dark edges of his memory. Lana Lang, Lex’s business partner back in the other reality. It seemed Lana’s fate was inextricably tied up with the Talon.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked quietly.
“Coffee,” Lionel said, always a safe bet. He tried to get a good look at her face, difficult when she wouldn’t raise her head. “Miss? With cream?” he said as she went to move away. It had the desired effect, for she turned to face him. The bruise on her cheek was clearly visible.
“Of course,” she said and went back to the kitchen.
Lionel had been raised never to hit women. In the twisted Luthor ethical code, it was acceptable to try and dump toxic waste which was a hazard to everyone’s health, but it was not permissible to strike an individual female.
He glared at the woman sitting at the counter. This was surely Nell Daniels, Lana’s legal guardian, who had chosen to bed Kane and had ruined not only her own life, but that of her niece.
Lana returned with the coffee and placed it almost reverentially in front of him. She was about to retreat into the kitchen again, when he stopped her. “Who did that to you?”
She shook her head fearfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yet her hand fluttered to the bruise and she quickly said, “I walked into the refrigerator door.” She moved to the next table and picked up the sugar dispenser to put in front of him, but somehow it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
“You clumsy bitch!” a male voice yelled.
Lionel and Lana both looked over at the man doing the yelling. He was stood at Nell’s side. Nell herself had hunched over like a small animal cornered by a large predator. This had to be Daniels, and he obviously didn’t treat his wife any better than he treated Lana.
He was shorter than Lionel, lean, but with broad shoulders. He seemed to be aiming for the cowboy look, for instead of the business suit Lionel had been expecting, Daniels wore expensive denims with a plaid shirt. His blond hair was a contrast to the tanned skin – not too tanned and very even, which made Lionel think it was probably fake. He had cold, ice blue eyes and these were studying Lionel, sizing him up.
“It was my fault,” Lionel put in, knowing what would happen to Lana as soon as he left. “I distracted the young lady. I was just asking her a few questions.”
“She don’t know anything worth knowing,” Daniels returned. “So she can get back in the kitchen.” Lana did so, hurriedly, making as wide a detour around her uncle as she could. Or, since Nell had adopted her, did it make him Lana’s stepfather? Either way he was a monster.
“If you want to know something, ask me. I practically run this town,” Daniels said smugly, and ran a finger across Nell’s cheek. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
She flinched at his touch and nodded fervently. Lionel hated him immediately.
“I was just visiting the Kents,” Lionel said.
Daniels’s eyes narrowed. “Friend of theirs?”
“Not exactly.”
The other man stared for a moment. “I know you. Luthor, right? Big noise in Metropolis. What you doing out here in the back of beyond?” Lionel said nothing and Daniels drew his own conclusions. “The Kents won’t sell up. I’ve offered them a million times. There’s nothing else worth buying in this dump, nothing I don’t own. And I’m not selling.”
So Daniels wanted the farm. Martha was probably right about Jonathan’s “accident.”
Daniels strode over and proffered his hand. Lionel stood, using his height advantage and they shook firmly. “Kane Daniels. Owner of Daniels Ore Processing, Talon Coffee House, most of the mortgages round here, and so on. Maybe they should change the name to Danielsville.”
“Lionel Luthor, as you so obviously are aware,” Lionel said with a charming smile, deliberately ignoring Daniels's bragging. “Perhaps there are mutual interests we could explore.”
“You think?” Daniels asked. “Shall I tell you what I think?” The smile became twisted and the tone turned nasty. “I think you should get the hell out of my town and not look back.” He took a few steps back and stood in a defensive posture as if ready to start a fist fight. “I don’t want any more of you big city twits coming here in your Armani and your limousines, waving your money around, making friends with the locals, interfering with my family. Now I have business to take care of.” Without looking around, he yelled, “Nell!”
A few moments later she returned with a shotgun, which Daniels made a show of cocking. Lionel tried to remain impassive. There was no telling what might provoke the man.
“Like I said,” Daniels said threateningly “I got business. I don’t expect to see you here when I get back. I don’t expect any calls from city lawyers on your behalf. I certainly don’t ever want you coming into my town again. You think I’m bluffing, think again. I’ve got friends in high places, my friend.” He shouldered the weapon and left.
Nell watched him go, then turned a frightened gaze on Lionel. “Please. Go. He’s not joking.”
Arrogance reared its head. “Do you know who I am?” Lionel demanded.
Nell shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You think what happened to Quinn in New York was an accident? Kane does know people in high places, people who want the ore.”
Lionel hesitated only a moment. There was never shame in retreating. It meant you lived to take revenge later. Throwing a handful of bills onto the table, he left.
Part two DW // LJ
Anya had chosen to appear right inside the study of Luthor manor – although the security was laughable, mere window dressing, and she probably could have walked straight through the impressive entranceway without a problem.
She was probably a little underdressed, given the architecture and expensive furnishings, though she knew she looked good in the red skirt and fashionable light coloured blouse. Around her neck was a small amulet which no-one was getting their hands on this time around. Vengeance was her true calling, she realised that now. Once a demon – no, make that twice a demon – always a demon. Or something.
Lionel heard her approach even if he couldn’t see her, head tracking her movements. For some unimaginable reason he had been facing the window.
“Lex?”
“No.” She walked slowly towards him. He had a cane nearby and she tried unsuccessfully to put herself between him and it. Humans could be dangerous creatures, some more so than demons.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” he demanded.
“That’s not important,” she answered. She perched herself on the desk nearby. “I just came to talk.”
Lionel muttered something unpleasant. “Did Lex ask you to come here? Some sort of psychiatrist?”
Anya shook her head, realized what a pointless activity that was, and said, “No. Although you could say I’m a counsellor of sorts. I fix things.”
“I don’t think you can fix anything here,” Lionel told her.
“You’d be surprised.” Anya hesitated. “This isn’t my patch, you know, I’m just covering for someone. Although I must say, my own recently adopted town of Sunnydale has some frightening similarities. Frightening as in oh-dear-god-what-is-that-thing?” She laughed. Lionel didn’t.
Undeterred, she continued, “Also, I’m usually with the whole woman scorned thing. Which you clearly aren’t. A woman. Or, for that matter,” she added, “scorned.”
Lionel sat forwards and reached for his cane. “Do you have a point?”
“Yes. I’m getting to it,” she said huffily. “Now, I’ve done a little research, spoken to a few people. I’m amazed, actually, that I’m here to help you with vengeance rather than to serve justice upon you. You’ve done some terrible things."
He didn't react to this assertion, which told her he knew he'd done some terrible things – terrible from a certain point of view, at least – and she did admire a man who owned his responsibilities.
“Although,” she went on brightly, warming to her subject, “are you sure you haven’t been cursed before? What with meteor storms almost killing your son and tornadoes- and, well, look at you -”
Lionel switched the cane to his left hand and reached out for the telephone with his right, fumbled, but found it, and picked up the receiver. “You have one minute to start to making sense before I call the authorities. Start with your name.”
Anya glared at him, angry at being spoken to in this impolite manner. She’d turned men inside out for less. After a moment she found glaring to be as pointless as nodding and gave in. “My name is Anyanka,” she said sternly.
This seemed to appease him and he put down the phone. “Very well, Anyanka. What is it you want? Revenge of some sort?”
She shook her head again out of habit. “You have it wrong. I’m here to help you get vengeance. To put things right. For example, you weren’t always blind, were you?”
Anya knew all about anger, from the fiercest white-hot high through to its deepest glacial depth. She also knew all about the concept humans called “pain” and the fascinating varieties, from the physical to the mental, emotional and even spiritual variety. These were her bread and butter, so to speak, clouding the mind and heart enough to have someone summon her and wreak their revenge. So, when Lionel was silent for a long moment then answered, slowly, “No,” she knew that she had plenty to work with.
“You must blame your son Lex for at least some of this. Not just the choices he made for your treatment, either. I mean, if you hadn’t had to come out to him in such bad weather…” And his body language marked her as right.
“I blame him for this completely,” Lionel said sharply.
“He’s headstrong,” she went on, finding her way now.
Lionel gave a sharp laugh. “Reckless,” he said. “And stubborn.”
“Ever think it would have been easier if he’d been a daughter? I could turn him into a girl. Would you like that?” Anya asked, thoughtfully, still trying to twist things into an area she knew well. She added knowledgably, “Girls are easier to control.”
“I wanted a son,” Lionel said stiffly.
Anya scowled. “Of course,” she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice at this slight to her sex. “Because men are good and noble creatures while women are just things to be used and tossed aside?”
She stood abruptly. “Of course, you wanted a son to carry on the family name.” She paced the room, aware she was now on the wrong side of Lionel, tried to think of a way to get him at least wishing for something.
“A son,” she said, suddenly, in the same angry tone, “who has made you so proud.” She let the sarcasm sink in and went on, “Who disobeys you at every turn. A son who went behind your back. A son whose hasty actions left you blind and weak.”
She spun to face him, not giving him a chance to interrupt despite his obvious and growing fury. “You sent him here, didn’t you, to try to make him more responsible, the son you always wanted. But it simply made him more wilful.”
In full swing, now, Anya went on excitedly, “You should have kept him with you. In the city, at your side, where you could keep an eye on him.” She stopped short. “Sorry. No pun intended.” And, because she never knew when to stop, added, “You know, because you’re blind.”
Lionel tapped his cane impatiently on the floor. “I think I’ve heard enough,” he said tightly. “I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish here but you’re failing miserably.”
Anya strode across the room and knelt down to bring her face almost level with his. “What I’m hoping is to give you a second chance,” she said intently. “You must rue the day you sent Lex here, to this backwater settlement, where he’s been corrupted by these oh-so-nice people. They’re all so happy, aren’t they, with their little farms and their little coffee shop! It’s madness, given that a major disaster seems to happen here every couple of years but they keep on grinning like lunatics. You must long for things to have worked out differently.”
She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Come on. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you wish.”
“And then you’ll leave?” Lionel asked, exasperated.
Anya lifted his hand now, pressed his palm to her cheek, so he could feel it when she nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“Very well. You want to know what I wish? For my sight back, for some appreciation for all I’ve done for this town, for Lex to be more…more like me!” Lionel pulled his hand from her grasp and gestured. He named a few more things he would like, but it was useless, completely useless unless he said the words exactly.
“Excuse me,” Anya put in when he paused somewhere between owning Alaska (which as a ruthless capitalist she approved of) and becoming the President of the United States (which she really didn’t see the point of, what with the senate still telling you what to do).
She made a ‘time-out’ signal with both hands, looked down, realised her mistake and sighed. It seemed she had his attention anyway, so she said brightly, “Little ‘Jeopardy’ type rule. Can we please have your answer in the form of a wish?”
“A wish?” Lionel gave a harsh laugh. “A wish. You know, I do blame Lex. And I do blame this town. I’ll tell you what I wish.”
“Please do. I have other business to attend to,” Anya muttered.
Lionel showed no signs of having heard her. He stood and said, emphatically:
“I wish I’d never laid eyes on this damn place!”
Anya gave a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Her face contorted, seemed to turn inside out, veins and sinew on the surface, her voice deeper and more sinister as she intoned,
“Done.”
It was a warm afternoon in Metropolis and Lionel was sitting at his desk
Slowly he looked around the room, then put one hand to his face. He began laughing at the beauty and impossibility. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he was able to see again, and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Well,” he said, to himself, for he was plainly alone. “I don’t know who you were Anyanka, but thank you.”
He went to the window and looked out. You could see most of the city from here, the good parts like the better architecture and the odd green space holding out defiantly against the concrete and steel, while the homeless and the litter were too far away to be of note. It was good to be back here, to see it again. Good to see anything again.
With sudden inspiration Lionel returned to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He rifled through the papers and came up with a photograph. He sat down, suddenly sad, gazing at the portrait of the woman who had been his wife. Lillian. Lily. He’d forgotten what a beauty she had been with her delicate features, her long red hair. He’d avoided looking at any pictures of her for such a long time; after his accident he would have given anything to see an image of her again once more.
He allowed himself a few more moments of sentimentality, then put the photo away. He wasn’t about to let mawkishness take over his life now he’d got it back. He picked up his phone and pressed the button.
“Yes, Mr Luthor?” responded his secretary.
At least, he assumed it was his secretary. It wasn’t Ms Carstairs, that was for certain. No hint of a New York accent. A little thrown by this, Lionel said, “Could you come in here please?”
A moment later a woman, early thirties with cropped brown hair entered. “Yes, sir?”
Lionel stared at her until she was clearly uncomfortable.
“I – I wanted you to remind me of my appointments this afternoon,” he said. Fine, his secretary had changed. That was a minor thing, nothing to worry about. Just get straight back into the swing of things.
She nodded. “You have a three o clock with Mr Darrow and a meal booked for seven thirty with Mr Grey.”
“Mr Darrow?” Lionel asked, the name unfamiliar to him. This was clearly a mistake, judging by the look on the woman’s face.
“Yessir. Mr Jonathan Darrow. Managing Director of the Burlington subsidiary of Luthorcorp?” She reached behind her and shut the door, approached his desk. “Sir, are you all right”?
Lionel wasn’t about to be questioned. “Fine. Just…make sure my vehicle is ready.”
She nodded. “Yes, Mr Luthor. Anything else?”
“No. Leave.” Lionel knew he was being overly sharp, but really didn’t have the energy to be charming. What the hell was she talking about? He didn’t have a plant in Burlington; he’d never even been to Colorado…
I wish I’d never laid eyes on this damn place. Anyanka had said she could grant that wish and she had. He'd never been to Smallville. Ever.
The implication of this sank in. Okay, Lionel thought to himself. You wanted your sight back. You wanted to have not been injured. You didn’t want to change everything. Maybe you should have just wished you hadn’t gone to Smallville during the tornado.
Yet how could this be real? He hadn’t taken the girl seriously; he’d just been letting off steam, releasing some of his pent up frustration. Whoever heard of wishes coming true? It was a most disorderly way to run things. What if poor people could wish themselves into being millionaires!
However, Lionel hadn’t come this far by letting himself get distracted by details like human rights, legal permits that weren’t in his favour, or indeed, just why all his rivals for a contract had mysteriously dropped out or disappeared or simply underbid. So he returned to searching his desk. If he could figure out some of what this reality’s Lionel had achieved, he could playact his way for a while, until he knew all the history. Then surely there was some profit to be had from using his knowledge of the other reality – what he quickly nicknamed 'the Smallville reality' – in this one.
He found notes of various contracts and projects, all fairly familiar. A few were new to him and he skimmed them, quickly memorising the essential details. The Burlington branch wasn’t doing that well, which was probably what he and Darrow were meeting about. Where the hell was Lex, then, if not managing the company?
He reached into the bottom drawer and picked up another sheaf of files – and what was this? He picked up the plastic bottle and checked the label.
At his level of business almost everyone you met was on something; antidepressants, anti-ulcer drugs, sleeping tablets, caffeine pills, prescription painkillers that were being taken far longer than was necessary. Not to mention illegal drugs. Not him though. Fine scotch, brandy, sherry, but not drugs beyond the occasional necessary antibiotics. Never antidepressants.
Lionel stared at the bottle for a long moment. Judging by the amount of pills left and the issue date, he hadn’t been taking them much in this reality either. He threw them back in the drawer. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Perhaps he’d been a little more upset after Lillian’s death this time around, but now he was getting over it and cutting back on the medication. Yes, that made sense.
Still it seemed it wasn’t going to be easy to get a hold on this new reality as he thought. He reached over and used the phone again. Cautiously, his secretary entered.
“Ah, Janine,” he said experimentally. Her name had been all over the paperwork once he started looking. She nodded, obviously still smarting from his earlier treatment of her. “I’m sorry if I was a little brusque with you earlier.”
“Yessir.” She held his gaze almost defiantly. Lionel was begrudgingly impressed.
“I’m…” Lionel hesitated at the thought of showing weakness. “That is –”
“I understand.” Janine’s expression had softened.
Was he sleeping with her, Lionel wondered? She was attractive enough. No, he decided, despite the gentle tone she wasn’t flirting. There was some genuine feeling there though. Very odd.
“I need to see Lex,” he told her. He had to know where Lex was, what he was doing if not running the plant, and nothing he’d looked at today had mentioned his son’s name.
Janine blinked a few times and nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said gently. “I’ll have the car brought round.” She exited without waiting for his permission.
What was all that about, Lionel wondered. He searched through the papers for a moment longer until Janine knocked quietly and entered. She took his coat from the stand and gestured. “The limousine is waiting, sir.”
Lionel let her help him into the long blue coat and followed her out to the elevator, where she pushed the call button. Once inside however, he was on his own.
Chapter 2
The lobby looked exactly as he remembered it. A few people were milling around and he exchanged greetings cautiously, trying not to get involved in any conversations lest he put his foot in his mouth. The doorman ushered him out smoothly and the chauffeur had the car door open.
Staff, Lionel thought, were a luxury he had sometimes taken for granted. In the midst of this confusion at least there were people to lead him around, for as long as he needed to be led for.
The “Daily Planet” and a few financial papers were exactly where he expected them to be, and he flicked through the pages while they drove. Whatever else Anyanka had done, she hadn’t changed the date or time. The headlines were the same as he had heard on the radio that morning, shortly before Anyanka’s unexpected visit.
The limousine parked up and Lionel looked out. They were outside City General, Metropolis’s largest medical institute. The chauffeur got out and opened the door. Somewhat dazed, but with little choice now, Lionel put the paper down and got out. He suddenly wished he’d brought Janine with him.
He walked into the building with a sense of dread creeping over him and even the expensive coat couldn’t cover the chill. Not sure of what he was supposed to be doing, or where he was going, Lionel nevertheless knew exactly what to do next. Find someone who did know, and make it their problem.
It didn’t take long, for as soon as he got to the reception desk, he was recognised.
“Mr Luthor?” The nurse stood. “Did you lose your way again?” She smiled. “It’s a maze, isn’t it this place?” She waved to a colleague. “Angela, can you take Mr Luthor to see his son?”
Angela didn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but nodded. She gestured. “This way, sir.”
Okay, good, following again. Following was good, just until he could figure things out – like what the hell had happened to Lex? Lionel followed the nurse, not daring to ask any questions. While the nurse on reception hadn’t been downright condescending he got the impression he’d needed to be shepherded around a little too much. Coupled with the prescription medication he’d found and Janine’s obvious concern, Lionel felt that if he started asking odd questions he might end up in the psychiatric ward. “You see, I made this wish…” Hell, maybe he was crazy, but it beat being blind.
Thankfully, Angela seemed to be willing the elevator to hurry, and didn’t feel obliged to make small talk. When the elevator stopped she held the door and pointed, clearly not intending to get out with him. “Just round the corner, Sir. You remember now?”
Lionel nodded, which seemed the most appropriate response, got out, feeling abandoned as the elevator doors slid shut behind him. Shaking off his fears he took the corridor Angela had indicated. He came to a door where an armed guard met Lionel's eyes, nodded, and entered a keycode to open the door for him.
The security door closed behind him with a sound of terrible finality. Squaring his shoulders, Lionel turned right at the end of the short corridor, the only choice besides turning back. He found himself just outside a private room.
It was Lex’s private room. It was filled with equipment that a horrified Lionel could only assume was keeping his son alive.
They hadn’t been to Smallville so they hadn’t been there during the meteor shower, and that meant that Lex had kept his hair. Copper, like his mother’s, kept relatively short here. It was the only healthy looking thing about his son’s lifeless seeming body.
How could this have happened? What terrible incident had led to this?
Lionel turned away. The mental anguish was making itself felt, draining the blood flow to his extremities. He leant against the wall, off-balance now, fighting the urge to kneel on the floor and vomit. This was much worse than the moment he’d learnt Lillian was dying; she’d been so sick for so long there was an almost inevitability about it. But Lex…
Lionel pressed his forehead to the cool tiles, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The physical contact of the solid object helped ground him. He took a couple of deep breaths. After a few moments the nausea passed and he began to calm down. Things were bad, he reasoned, but there had to be some way to fix this.
Lionel pulled himself together, mentally, and physically too, standing upright and tugging at his coat. This wasn’t what he’d wished for at all. This was all Anyanka’s fault! The rage built up as he laid all of the blame firmly on her shoulders. How dare she! Who did she think she was?
“Anyanka!” he yelled, “Put this back! Anyanka!” He should have known there would be a price to pay. Who or what was she, anyway, to grant wishes that went so horribly wrong? Some kind of psychotic genie? He didn’t know how to get her back here, but felt compelled to yell again, “Any-“
“What?” she yelled back and he spun to find her, impossibly, just inches behind him.
He assessed her quickly, young, pretty, Caucasian, with blonde hair. wearing a tight fitting red dress, a necklace the only adornment he could see. Nothing to suggest she was anything other than human, despite her obvious powers.
“What is with all the yelling?” she demanded.
Lionel pointed a trembling finger towards Lex’s room. “What have you done?”
Anyanka glanced over. “Granted your wish. What are you complaining about?”
Lionel fought his rage. “Look what you’ve done. I didn’t wish for this.”
She seemed unconcerned. “You wished you had never laid eyes on Smallville. So now you haven’t. No plant there, hence not being there during tornado season, hence not blind. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
He shook his head fiercely. “No. Not this. Not Lex like this. What happened to him?”
“What always happens with your son. You fought with him. You made him so mad that he took his Ferrari out on a wet night in Metropolis and drove it into the side of the Daily Planet at a hundred miles an hour. The only plus side was no-one else was hurt.”
Lionel shook his head again. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he whispered. Anyanka’s words had a ring of truth. He and Lex rarely stopped fighting one way or another and Lex always drove recklessly.
Anyanka shrugged. “On the bright side he is much more like you now, what with the hair. And you have to admit, he’s not disobedient any more.”
“He’s my son!” Lionel yelled. “You put this back.” He grabbed hold of Anyanka by her arms and shook her, his lips curled back in a snarl. “You put it back right now!”
She turned, that was the only way he could describe it. Turned inside out, almost. Her face was suddenly a mass of veins and ruddy flesh. Horrified, he froze. She shrugged him off and slapped him hard, her nails scratching his cheek.
He stumbled back a step and when he looked up, she was back to normal, albeit angrier than before and with her arms tightly folded.
“How dare you,” she fumed. “You made your wish. Now you have to live it.”
Lionel touched the scratches. “What are you?” he asked, more afraid than he’d ever been in his life.
“Vengeance demon,” she said, accenting every syllable. “I serve vengeance upon those who deserve it, usually men who have hurt the women who love them. But as a favour to a friend who deals with unexpected life change, so's she could go on vacation somewhere with her new boyfriend, Fabio or Fabian or something, I agreed to cover for her. You were her next case. So I came to you and offered you a second chance. I can’t help it if you screwed it up.”
Lionel clung to the one thing he was certain of. “Put this back,” he insisted.
She shrugged. “You want to be blind again?” He hesitated and she gave a humourless smile. “Not so sure now?”
“Please,” Lionel said, an unfamiliar word. “Please, I don’t…I can’t…” He knew he was rambling and he hated himself for it.
Anyanka sighed. “Look, even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. New rules. One person, one wish, no recalls.”
“New rules?” Lionel asked incredulously. “There are rules?”
“Of course there are rules!” Anyanka laughed. “Otherwise poor people could just wish to be billionaires, couldn’t they?”
Had she read his mind? Lionel kept quiet as Anyanka explained. “Anyhow, there was this greedy little seventeen year old over in New York and she had sixteen boyfriends punished in a row, and she might have gotten away with it, except then she wanted to become Queen of England, and one of the British demons found out and she told D’Hoffryn and he said –“
“D’Hoffryn?”
Anyanka waved the name away like a troublesome fly. “My boss.”
“Can I talk to him?” Lionel asked. Man to man – man to male demon, anyway - he was sure he could soon sort this out.
Anyanka nodded brightly. “Right after you’re dead at my hand. You know, so you can get to the Otherworld.”
“What?” Lionel spluttered. “There’s got to be an easier way to get an appointment?”
“Sure.” Anyanka considered. “It’s Thursday now, so….in about twenty five years time.”
He shook his head. “There has to be another way.”
Anyanka put her head one side and nodded thoughtfully for a few moments, then said, “No.”
Lionel leaned back against the wall. He hadn't meant for this to happen. This couldn't be happening. Seeing his despair, Anyanka came over and tried to cheer him up.
“There, there,” she said in the manner of someone who had learnt her social skills by rote from a large print “Complete Beginner's Guide To”. “It isn’t so bad. At least you can see your son, now?”
She grinned and seemed disappointed that he didn’t react more favourably to this. “Fine. Have it your way. Your wish didn’t just ruin Lex’s life, you know.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Anyanka gestured to thin air. “You don’t realise? You haven’t thought about everyone else affected here?” She held out her hand. “Come here.”
Lionel hesitated only a moment. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere except here, at his son’s bedside, a terrible indicator of what he had done. He took Anyanka’s hand -
- and found himself standing in the middle of a road. A nearby sign said “Welcome to Smallville, Kansas” with a population indicator. Underneath a graphic of meteor rocks, it added helpfully, “The Meteor Capital of the World!”
“How touristy,” Anyanka said thoughtfully. “I could do with some meteor rock for my shop.”
“You have a shop?” Lionel asked doubtfully.
The demon nodded. “Which I have to get back to. Enjoy your visit.” With that, she was gone.
Lionel looked around him, but she had plainly vanished. Left with few choices, he headed towards the town. Usually he travelled by limo, but he recognised landmarks here and there. Seeing a familiar path, he took it, and soon came in sight of the Kent farm.
Not knowing what else to do, he knocked on the door. Martha Kent answered, but it wasn’t the woman he remembered. She seemed older, somehow.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Lionel realised he was staring. “You don’t know me,” he said, startled. Of course she wouldn’t. He’d never been to Smallville before.
“No.” She regarded him a moment longer. “Although you do look familiar.”
Yes, he thought, because even Smallville had magazines and television that brought images of the rich and famous into their lives. The Luthors were still rich and still well-known.
“I just…” What did he want? Probably to use the telephone and get out of here. Anyanka had dumped him in the middle of a town where he didn’t know anyone and without a vehicle; supposedly he was meant to be seeing what ruin he had brought to Smallville but how bad could it be? Martha was still here.
“Mrs Kent,” Lionel said, changing tack. “I just wanted to meet you and your husband. Your farm is quite near to the town and I was wondering how you felt about the cream corn factory.” That was what had brought him to Smallville the first time around.
Martha shook her head. “It’s not a cream corn factory anymore,” she said.
“It isn’t?”
“No.” Martha tugged her sweater closer around her and looked around as if she feared she was being spied on. “It’s the ore processing plant. For the meteor rocks.”
Up until that moment Lionel had forgotten all about not having control of the meteor rocks. That was something else he was going to have to correct. He wasn’t sure exactly what its properties were, but preliminary reports suggested unlimited potential, not least as an energy source.
“Wait a minute,” Martha said. “Now I remember. You’re Lionel Luthor. You were going to buy the factory but the deal fell through.” She shook her head fiercely. “I wish you had bought it, instead of Daniels. He works that place day and night, pouring the toxins into the streams.”
“Daniels?”
Another glance around the property. “Kane Daniels. He bought the factory and made it fully automated, cut most of the workface. He’s got too much money for it to be all from processing ore, God only knows what he’s up to.” She hesitated. “I shouldn’t be saying this.” She gestured. “Come in.”
The kitchen was warm and homely, the scent of freshly baked bread in the air. Martha made tea and they sat at the table, Martha clutching her cup tightly.
“This Daniels,” Lionel said at last. “You’re frightened of him?”
She nodded, ashamed. “We all are. He’s a monster. I mean, first it was the factory. With the radiation from the meteors it wasn’t fit for food production and he bought it for next to nothing and bankrupted the Rosses. Then he started acquiring businesses around the town. The Talon was the first. He married the owner, Nell, trying to gain standing in the community. He refurbished it, turned it into a coffee house. It was supposed to help Nell out but instead it’s a burden. He makes her work the café twelve, fifteen hours a day, even though there’s hardly any custom, and Lana misses too much school, helping out – trying to keep an eye on Nell, really.” Martha sipped at her tea.
“Lana’s her niece,” she said, realising the names meant nothing to him. “She was orphaned in the meteor storm. Nell adopted her. Now they both live in constant fear. We should do something about it, but those who oppose Daniels….” She bit at her lip, fighting for composure. Eventually she had enough self-control to look at Lionel again. She held his gaze for a long time, deciding his trustworthiness. “Let’s just say it’s not a good idea. For one thing, Daniels bought out the bank six months ago, so he owns the mortgages. Anyone who can get out of town, does. He’s torn the soul out of Smallville.”
She was silent, staring at the old china cup. Then, suddenly, she asked, “Are you here to buy the factory from Daniels?”
Lionel was stunned by the eagerness she displayed. She thought he was the cavalry! “Possibly,” he said. He didn’t want to commit to anything just yet. “I’m making some discreet enquiries.”
Martha nodded. “I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”
There was something else here, something wrong. The house was too quiet, too neat. Now he thought about it, Lionel realised the farm outside hadn’t been tended for some time.
“Where is your husband?” he asked.
Martha glanced upwards. “Sleeping. He sleeps a lot, since the accident.”
“Accident?”
She swallowed hard. “The tractor…they said it was mechanical failure…I don’t think so.” She fought back tears. “I’ve never thought so. As I said, those who oppose Daniels…. he even has the sheriff in his pocket. Our whole life was this farm but now with Jonathan unable to work, and the pollution here….”
“What about your son?” Lionel pressed.
She stared at him. “I…I don’t…I can’t have any children.” He'd found the proverbial straw, it seemed, for she bent over the table and began sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Slowly, he reached over and touched her shoulder. In another life he could have married her; her compassion, auburn hair, and gentle laugh all reminded him of Lillian. She’d thrown away her intellect and potential to become a farmer’s wife and yet whenever he saw her, or heard her voice, Lionel’s heart quickened. It had always been a useless fantasy until now. If Jonathan was badly hurt, who knew how long he would live? And then…
Lionel pushed aside these thoughts. He had other concerns right now, and if Anyanka had wanted to make him feel further guilt then she'd succeeded. Seeing this strong and powerful woman reduced to tears was enough to almost completely eclipse his selfish enjoyment at this normally forbidden physical contact.
“Don't be sorry," he said at least. "On the contrary, please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. My information must be wrong.”
She sat up, rubbed at her face. “There was a boy,” she said, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. “He was abandoned after the meteor storm. I wanted to keep him. The department of family services took him from me. They said we could apply for adoption…but he got placed with another family. I would have loved him with all my heart.” She closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks.
Without Lionel’s assistance the Kents hadn’t had a chance at keeping Clark. He’d never realised just how much the adoption had meant to them. Besides, there was the chance Clark Kent was special, very special. He'd have to find the boy. God only knows where he'd been placed or what his name was now. This was a serious matter and one he'd have to remedy as soon as possible – unfortunately, right now it wasn't the only serious matter on his mind.
Martha opened her eyes and sniffed. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’d forgotten. Your son…”
Lionel stood. “I must be going,” he said, sharper than he had intended the words to come out. He didn’t want to think about Lex. He didn’t want to watch Martha suffer any more. “I’ll see myself out.”
Outside there was a light drizzle starting. He pulled up the collar of his coat and started for the main town, more out instinct than any intellectual thought. Perhaps, he mused as he walked, now that he’d seen what had happened to Martha and Jonathan the demon would take pity on him and take him back to his office. If demons could even feel pity.
There was something eerie about the town. The scarcity of people didn’t have the feel of a small but welcoming community, but rather the aura of a ghost town, an old Wild West town being slowly abandoned now the gold was gone. There was graffiti on the front of some of the buildings he passed, something he didn’t ever remember seeing in Smallville. Worse was the charred remains of a car abandoned at the mouth of an alleyway.
He'd grown up in a bad neighbourhood so he knew one when he saw one. The problem here was that he was older now, and currently unarmed. Not feeling very safe, Lionel quickened his pace somewhat. He wasn’t sure where he was heading, until he came to the main streets, and spotted the Talon. So, this was the coffee shop Daniels owned. Half because he was curious, and half because it seemed safer to get off the streets, he went in.
A woman behind the counter looked up expectantly. She looked as washed out as the town did. “Lana! Customer,” she called behind her. To Lionel, she said, “Please take a seat.”
He did so, feeling very overdressed. The tables and floor were clean enough, but the décor had seen better days. The photocopied menu was simple; various coffees, teas, hot chocolate, plus a variety of cakes and muffins.
A girl came from the kitchen, her red check apron grubby. She hurried over, head bent. Lionel stared at her, trying to place her. Martha had mentioned her, but now that he saw her recognition flared in the dark edges of his memory. Lana Lang, Lex’s business partner back in the other reality. It seemed Lana’s fate was inextricably tied up with the Talon.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked quietly.
“Coffee,” Lionel said, always a safe bet. He tried to get a good look at her face, difficult when she wouldn’t raise her head. “Miss? With cream?” he said as she went to move away. It had the desired effect, for she turned to face him. The bruise on her cheek was clearly visible.
“Of course,” she said and went back to the kitchen.
Lionel had been raised never to hit women. In the twisted Luthor ethical code, it was acceptable to try and dump toxic waste which was a hazard to everyone’s health, but it was not permissible to strike an individual female.
He glared at the woman sitting at the counter. This was surely Nell Daniels, Lana’s legal guardian, who had chosen to bed Kane and had ruined not only her own life, but that of her niece.
Lana returned with the coffee and placed it almost reverentially in front of him. She was about to retreat into the kitchen again, when he stopped her. “Who did that to you?”
She shook her head fearfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yet her hand fluttered to the bruise and she quickly said, “I walked into the refrigerator door.” She moved to the next table and picked up the sugar dispenser to put in front of him, but somehow it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
“You clumsy bitch!” a male voice yelled.
Lionel and Lana both looked over at the man doing the yelling. He was stood at Nell’s side. Nell herself had hunched over like a small animal cornered by a large predator. This had to be Daniels, and he obviously didn’t treat his wife any better than he treated Lana.
He was shorter than Lionel, lean, but with broad shoulders. He seemed to be aiming for the cowboy look, for instead of the business suit Lionel had been expecting, Daniels wore expensive denims with a plaid shirt. His blond hair was a contrast to the tanned skin – not too tanned and very even, which made Lionel think it was probably fake. He had cold, ice blue eyes and these were studying Lionel, sizing him up.
“It was my fault,” Lionel put in, knowing what would happen to Lana as soon as he left. “I distracted the young lady. I was just asking her a few questions.”
“She don’t know anything worth knowing,” Daniels returned. “So she can get back in the kitchen.” Lana did so, hurriedly, making as wide a detour around her uncle as she could. Or, since Nell had adopted her, did it make him Lana’s stepfather? Either way he was a monster.
“If you want to know something, ask me. I practically run this town,” Daniels said smugly, and ran a finger across Nell’s cheek. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
She flinched at his touch and nodded fervently. Lionel hated him immediately.
“I was just visiting the Kents,” Lionel said.
Daniels’s eyes narrowed. “Friend of theirs?”
“Not exactly.”
The other man stared for a moment. “I know you. Luthor, right? Big noise in Metropolis. What you doing out here in the back of beyond?” Lionel said nothing and Daniels drew his own conclusions. “The Kents won’t sell up. I’ve offered them a million times. There’s nothing else worth buying in this dump, nothing I don’t own. And I’m not selling.”
So Daniels wanted the farm. Martha was probably right about Jonathan’s “accident.”
Daniels strode over and proffered his hand. Lionel stood, using his height advantage and they shook firmly. “Kane Daniels. Owner of Daniels Ore Processing, Talon Coffee House, most of the mortgages round here, and so on. Maybe they should change the name to Danielsville.”
“Lionel Luthor, as you so obviously are aware,” Lionel said with a charming smile, deliberately ignoring Daniels's bragging. “Perhaps there are mutual interests we could explore.”
“You think?” Daniels asked. “Shall I tell you what I think?” The smile became twisted and the tone turned nasty. “I think you should get the hell out of my town and not look back.” He took a few steps back and stood in a defensive posture as if ready to start a fist fight. “I don’t want any more of you big city twits coming here in your Armani and your limousines, waving your money around, making friends with the locals, interfering with my family. Now I have business to take care of.” Without looking around, he yelled, “Nell!”
A few moments later she returned with a shotgun, which Daniels made a show of cocking. Lionel tried to remain impassive. There was no telling what might provoke the man.
“Like I said,” Daniels said threateningly “I got business. I don’t expect to see you here when I get back. I don’t expect any calls from city lawyers on your behalf. I certainly don’t ever want you coming into my town again. You think I’m bluffing, think again. I’ve got friends in high places, my friend.” He shouldered the weapon and left.
Nell watched him go, then turned a frightened gaze on Lionel. “Please. Go. He’s not joking.”
Arrogance reared its head. “Do you know who I am?” Lionel demanded.
Nell shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You think what happened to Quinn in New York was an accident? Kane does know people in high places, people who want the ore.”
Lionel hesitated only a moment. There was never shame in retreating. It meant you lived to take revenge later. Throwing a handful of bills onto the table, he left.
Part two DW // LJ
