Decade - Prologue, 1 of 3
Title: Decade
Author: FlyingHigh / latetothpartyhp
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama / Adventure
Pairings: Chloe/Clark, Tess/Oliver
Spoilers: through Salvation, and selectively from Lazarus
Warnings: Because of when this fic starts there will be some collateral Clois and Chlollie to begin with. There was also be strong language, some violence and some mentions of sexuality. Please be sure to check individual chapters for ratings and warning changes.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I am receiving no money for this story. I also make no claim to anything written by T.S. Eliot, Emily Dickinson or William Shakespeare.
Summary: The last ten years have all led up to this.
Author's Note: This fic was written for selene2 , who won the bid for my services in the legendary_women auction - I hope you enjoy it! Many, many thanks to iluvaqt for beta-reading this.
Prologue Part 1 / Prologue Part 2 / Prologue Part 3
Reunion 1.0 / Reunion 1.1 / Reunion 1.2 / Reunion 1.3
---------------------------
DARKSEID
“So,” he said. “What have you brought me?”
“An opportunity.”
He nodded. “I see many opportunities in this situation. None of them involve that little inhaler there, so why don’t you tell me what’s in it before I seize the day in other ways.”
The man in front of him did not blink. “You’ve heard of amobarbital?”
“I have. Is that the opportunity? The chance to listen to men babble?”
“No, because with this compound is not amobarbital. This compound does what the creators of amobarbital only dreamt of doing: rather than depressing the nervous system of the interviewee, if you will, stimulates the psyche of the interviewer.”
That idea was intriguing. “It creates telepathy?”
“Almost. Once this compound is inhaled, the inhaler can ask any question of anyone and receive a truthful answer -- well, as truthful as the person answering believes it to be.”
“So there is babbling.”
“You’ve heard the phrase ‘shit in, shit out’?”
He laughed, and picked up the inhaler. “You’re telling me I breathe this in and you’ll tell me who you’re working for, where your girlfriend lives, that your favorite show is Dancing with the Stars?”
“Yes, yes and no. My favorite show is Survivor.”
“All right. We’ll have to test that. What are the side effects?”
“Good question. The primary side effect is death, preceded by cramping, nausea, chest pain and other symptoms of a myocardial infarction.”
“And how long between inhalation and onset of these symptoms?”
“Eight to ten hours.”
“You mentioned amobarbital earlier. Can this stuff work on the catatonic?”
“As far as I know that hasn’t been tried, but since it works to enhance the psychic powers of the questioner, I don’t see why not.”
“How much of it do you got?”
-----------------------------------------
He watched from behind a two-way mirror, marveling at how irrational the human mind was. The kid would perform very differently if he could actually see his boss watching him, and so his boss hid. It was one of the downsides of the suggestibility of the human mind, he supposed. Today, however, he planned to concentrate on the upsides.
The girl lay on her back, a position he was told she had assumed 26 hours previously. She moved only when instructed, to eat or to shit, and otherwise resumed her repose. It was a breath-taking accomplishment, and all the more so because he didn’t know who -- or what -- had done it. The resonance from the signal he’d received had been warped somehow. Warped by whoever had done this to her. Was it a gift, a tribute of some kind? Or a clue, laid down by some being that had previously traveled this way? As the kid entered the room he stood, unconsciously pressing his palm to the glass.
“What color are your eyes?” the kid began. They had very few control questions, and none that she had the capacity to lie about, but he wanted to see if he could detect any differences.
“Green.”
“Where were you born?”
“Metropolis.”
“Did you live in Smallville, Kansas during October 1989?”
“No.”
“How tall are you?”
“Five feet, four inches.”
“What is your name?”
She smiled. His breath caught for a moment. It was the first expression he had seen her make.
“I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all,” she said.
Author: FlyingHigh / latetothpartyhp
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama / Adventure
Pairings: Chloe/Clark, Tess/Oliver
Spoilers: through Salvation, and selectively from Lazarus
Warnings: Because of when this fic starts there will be some collateral Clois and Chlollie to begin with. There was also be strong language, some violence and some mentions of sexuality. Please be sure to check individual chapters for ratings and warning changes.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I am receiving no money for this story. I also make no claim to anything written by T.S. Eliot, Emily Dickinson or William Shakespeare.
Summary: The last ten years have all led up to this.
Author's Note: This fic was written for selene2 , who won the bid for my services in the legendary_women auction - I hope you enjoy it! Many, many thanks to iluvaqt for beta-reading this.
Prologue Part 1 / Prologue Part 2 / Prologue Part 3
Reunion 1.0 / Reunion 1.1 / Reunion 1.2 / Reunion 1.3
---------------------------
DARKSEID
“So,” he said. “What have you brought me?”
“An opportunity.”
He nodded. “I see many opportunities in this situation. None of them involve that little inhaler there, so why don’t you tell me what’s in it before I seize the day in other ways.”
The man in front of him did not blink. “You’ve heard of amobarbital?”
“I have. Is that the opportunity? The chance to listen to men babble?”
“No, because with this compound is not amobarbital. This compound does what the creators of amobarbital only dreamt of doing: rather than depressing the nervous system of the interviewee, if you will, stimulates the psyche of the interviewer.”
That idea was intriguing. “It creates telepathy?”
“Almost. Once this compound is inhaled, the inhaler can ask any question of anyone and receive a truthful answer -- well, as truthful as the person answering believes it to be.”
“So there is babbling.”
“You’ve heard the phrase ‘shit in, shit out’?”
He laughed, and picked up the inhaler. “You’re telling me I breathe this in and you’ll tell me who you’re working for, where your girlfriend lives, that your favorite show is Dancing with the Stars?”
“Yes, yes and no. My favorite show is Survivor.”
“All right. We’ll have to test that. What are the side effects?”
“Good question. The primary side effect is death, preceded by cramping, nausea, chest pain and other symptoms of a myocardial infarction.”
“And how long between inhalation and onset of these symptoms?”
“Eight to ten hours.”
“You mentioned amobarbital earlier. Can this stuff work on the catatonic?”
“As far as I know that hasn’t been tried, but since it works to enhance the psychic powers of the questioner, I don’t see why not.”
“How much of it do you got?”
-----------------------------------------
He watched from behind a two-way mirror, marveling at how irrational the human mind was. The kid would perform very differently if he could actually see his boss watching him, and so his boss hid. It was one of the downsides of the suggestibility of the human mind, he supposed. Today, however, he planned to concentrate on the upsides.
The girl lay on her back, a position he was told she had assumed 26 hours previously. She moved only when instructed, to eat or to shit, and otherwise resumed her repose. It was a breath-taking accomplishment, and all the more so because he didn’t know who -- or what -- had done it. The resonance from the signal he’d received had been warped somehow. Warped by whoever had done this to her. Was it a gift, a tribute of some kind? Or a clue, laid down by some being that had previously traveled this way? As the kid entered the room he stood, unconsciously pressing his palm to the glass.
“What color are your eyes?” the kid began. They had very few control questions, and none that she had the capacity to lie about, but he wanted to see if he could detect any differences.
“Green.”
“Where were you born?”
“Metropolis.”
“Did you live in Smallville, Kansas during October 1989?”
“No.”
“How tall are you?”
“Five feet, four inches.”
“What is your name?”
She smiled. His breath caught for a moment. It was the first expression he had seen her make.
“I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all,” she said.