capnzebbie | My first Smallville ficlet--Karloff's POV

Lanning has very generously allowed me to post a ficlet set in her Identical universe. It's set at the same time as It Came Just the Same. Some of the events from that story are shown from Karloff's POV.

Thanks to Lanning for letting me play in her universe and thanks to roxymissrose and garryowen for the encouragement.

I hope you like it! :o)

Just the Same

Merry fucking Christmas, Lex. "Where the hell are they?"

"I’m sorry, Mr. Luthor. We didn’t realize they were missing until…."

"My entire Warrior Angel collection is gone, and no one noticed? Jesus Christ! The action figures alone took up a whole wall! And how the hell did someone manage to get into the climate-controlled vault and make off with hundreds of comic books! What? They drove a fucking truck through the front door and loaded it up while they distracted the full security contingent by pointing and saying, ‘Hey! Look over there!'" I'm screaming now. I'm right up in his face. I leave a little bit of spittle on his cheek but he’s too goddamned scared to wipe it off.

"N-no, sir. We think they may have made more than one trip...."

I'm still in his face, but I'm quiet now. "More than one trip." Incompetent idiots.

He's sweating. He looks straight ahead, not meeting my eyes, and clears his throat. "J-judging by how much is gone, we think it would have to have been about a dozen."

"Someone managed to circumvent your security a dozen times and no one noticed?" I'm beginning to suspect whom. I back off and pour myself a drink. My hands are shaking a little. I'm breathing too fast, too hard. Control. Control. I take a sip, slow my breathing and turn back to him.

"Well, sir, we seem to have had some sort of camera malfunction. A couple of the cameras had a kind of a blur for just a second. We think maybe it was a camera or a tape prob…."

Fuck. The memory of another camera blur flashes through my mind. Clark. Clark taking my things to him. Before I realize it, my glass is flying across the room, smashing into the wall beside him.

"I want those tapes. Now." I look at him. I notice he has a splash of whiskey and a trickle of blood to add to the spittle. That's gotta sting. Still not wiping it off, though. I'm amused. I smile at him. He pales.

"And replace the security cameras. All of them. The whole system. I want everything digital, state of the art." Fucking Clark. "And Mark..." He's not quite pissing himself yet. "Thirteen security breaches would be a very unlucky number for you." Ah. There it is. He's so pale he's nearly invisible.

"Yes sir." He's almost leaning toward the door. "Was there anything else you wanted, Mr. Luthor?"

"No." Yes. "Just bring me the tapes." He exits so quickly he’d probably leave a blur on a videotape.

Yes. I want...I want that unsuitable bastard dead.

I look at my watch. If I leave as soon as that idiot brings me the tapes, I can just make it back to the city in time for the mayor’s Christmas party. Shit, I shouldn't have taken the time to come here, but I wanted....

I had a memory--just a flash--of my...my mother giving me my first Warrior Angel comic book. I don't have many memories of her. It’s almost as if that bastard deliberately kept them from me. And I wanted...I wanted a memory I could touch. But my collection is gone. Just like my memories.

I look at my watch again. My watch. Swiss. The best money can buy. But still, it isn't....

I want my watch back. The one my mother gave me. It’s gone, too.

I want my father...my father’s stinking, whiskey-soaked breath on the back of my neck, words slurring, "You look so much like your mother," his cock pounding into my ass.... No! Not my ass, not this ass! But fuck, it's in this head, in my head.

God, wouldn't you know that memory would be as vivid as a fucking digital video.

I want my fucking father dead.

I want Clark....

I want Clark.

But right now, I just want my fucking comic books back.

end.