Hello everybody, this is probably the first Smallville/Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter crossover in the history of the net. So since it's the first, I'll try to do it justice by writing a kick ass fic. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
I do not own any characters here in his this fic. They are the copyright of Marvel Comics, WB Productions, or Laurell K. Hamilton.
The timeline that I'm imagining is about three years after the show, Smallville, making Clark 21. For the Anitaverse it will be after the tenth book, Narcissus in Chains.
Chapter 2
Papers floated through the air, carried away by the blowing wind. Clark crumpled to his knees staring at the sight before him. Green pastures and farmland hills stretched on for miles. Lifelessly, Clark stared at the empty field where his farm and hometown once stood in. Jason had been right. There was no Metropolis, no Gotham, and sure enough there was no Smallville.
Once Jason had his back turned, Clark had run with superspeed from the Circus of the Dammed, grabbing his clothes and never looking back. Jason had wanted him to go to a hospital, and Clark was in no way about to do that. He had got the hell out of Dodge while he had the chance. It was four blocks later that Clark realized, he didn't nowhere to go. It was by chance that he stood outside the local public library.
That's when the shit hit the fan.
What did most young people do when in front of a computer? One guess... check their email. Clark thought that maybe Pete or Chloe had contacted him, worried, since he had not gone back to Metropolis. Low and behold, after trying to sign into Yahoo twenty times, Clark noticed his account didn't work. No, that wasn't right.
It said he didn't have an account.
There was no record of him at all.
Clark had may as well swallowed a rock because his stomach felt terrible. A feeling unlike any other had taken over him. The weird ass light. How could he have been so stupid as to think that nothing weird had happened besides ending up in another city?
The bottom line...
Clark figured out everything he had ever known was gone. He wasn't home. The entire history of the United States, plus all over the world, had changed. Not changed, since no one but himself seemed to notice. More like it was different. Not just one tiny event, but events spanning centuries were different.
He hadn't wanted to believe it, but the truth was staring at him in the face. Heaving a sigh, feeling numb inside, Clark stared around him, looking at the foreign hills and pastures.
He wasn't home.
The tunnel of light had done more than transported him to a different city. It had taken him from his world and dropped him into another one that was familiar but foreign. He was in some kind of alternate reality or diverging dimension. If those were even the correct terms for this new world he was in. A bitter laughed escaped his mouth, as he shook his head, black hair flying about. He had only figured out those terms because of years reading bad comic books and science fiction novels, involving aliens, time travel, and heroes with otherworldly powers.
"Mom, Dad," Clark whispered to the empty air. "Where am I?"
One of the papers he dropped, soared through the air, and hit his face. Clark peeled the offending paper off, and stared at it. It was one of the many articles, concerning this worlds history, he had printed off the internet at the library.
'Vampires Legal Citizens!'
That was the bolded headline adorning the long article. There was another hint that clued him into this new world situation. Back home, werewolves and all things that go bump in the night, while there were some things that were true... Here in this world it was fact. All things supernatural in this world were factual things. Meaning that Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Trolls, Dragons...
They were real.
All the stories that Clark had been told as a child about mythical being and creatures were real in this world. They were classified as not supernatural but the preternatural. In the United States, not two years ago, Vampires had been made legal citizens. Before then it had been perfectly fine to hunt and kill them. Now, since they were legal citizens, only after a vampire had done something against the law and after a court mandate of execution could a nightwalker be killed. Their killer was called surprise, surprise, an executioner, which was a person with legal authority to hunt down and kill a vampire.
The sun peeked up over the horizon, throwing golden rays of oblong light over the area. Shadows began to recede and the day slowly overtook night. Clark looked up into the brightness of the sun.
"Why am I here?" he asked, staring up into the sky. "Am I supposed to be here? Is this some Kryptonian thing?"
Of course, he received no answer. He hadn't expected one. Idly, he really did wonder if this was some type feat involving his alien heritage. Could going to other dimensions be a type of new power? If so, why would it appear now? By the time he was nineteen he had topped off power- wise.
I have no where to go, and I'm stuck in another world until I find a way home thought Clark, staring forlornly at the ground.
"No need to mope," muttered Clark, standing up. Suddenly, he stopped moving. Jason. He could go back and find Jason, the kind, young man who had helped him. He would take him in, wouldn't he? Clark had sensed goodness in him that many citizens in Metropolis lacked.
Clark crouched down, willing gravity around him to distort. With a sound like a sonic boom, Clark took off, straight up. Faster than any bullet, he flew through the air zipping past clouds, towns, and cities.
There he could see it.
St. Louis came up shining bright in the morning light. Clark spotted the Circus of the Damned straight away. He landed across the street in a darkened alleyway. Looking both ways, Clark walked from the alley and across the street. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped, staring up at the building. He really hadn't noticed the building on his way out, because he had been running as if his life depended on it.
The Circus of the Damned was a converted, old warehouse. Emblazoned across the roof in colored lights, was the name, with dancing clowns surrounding it. With Clark's enhanced vision he could see the clowns had tiny fangs. On the sides of the building were hanging signs made of cloth, proclaiming the oddities of the circus and its attractions. One banner showed a man being hung; "The Death Defying Count Alcourt," it said. Zombies crawled from a graveyard in one picture; "Watch the Dead Rise from the Grave." A very bad drawing showed a man halfway between wolf and man shape; Fabian, the Werewolf. Other signs with other attractions dotted the building.
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Welcome Clark to the circus from hell."
The big doors were closed, locked. Biting his lip, Clark knocked once then twice. The door opened a moment later. Jason stood there. He wasn't smiling. In fact, his hair was mused, eyes scrunched, and bed clothes rumpled. Well, more like boxers rumpled because that's all he was wearing.
"Clark?" he mumbled, sleepily.
Clark flushed, eyes drifting to Jason's bare chest then back to his face. "Hey," he squeaked. "Hey, Jason," he repeated, this time more normally with bass in his voice.
"What are you doing here?" Jason asked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand like a child.
Clark looked down. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
Jason shook his head, small smile playing on his face, and said, "I'll have to get it cleared but you can stay with me for now."
Clark's head shot up, surprise showing clear on his face. "Just like that, you're going to invite me in? What if I was some crazy axe murderer?"
Jason laughed. "Trust me, we here at the Circus can more than handle ourselves."
Clark didn't question it. He merely shrugged and followed Jason inside. But the comment did tug at him as he walked the midway beside Jason. What did he mean, more than handle themselves? Had they the people who lived at the Circus of the Damned, fought something crazier than an axe murderer. It left room for wonder.
The games had been closed down for the night, well more like day. Covers had been thrown over the stuff animals and the lights overhead were turned to a dim low. If you inhaled deep enough, the scent of cotton candy and corn dogs hung in the air.
They walked down a long hall that had a single door at the end. Hanging on the solitary door was a sign reading, "Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point." Clark wondered how Jason had become authorized in the first place. What was a stripper doing living in a circus? This little mystery Clark was in just kept getting all the more mysterious.
Behind the door was a little storage room with a single hanging light. A second door led down the stairs. Clark followed Jason down the stairs. No words passed between them. Clark had quickly picked up that Jason wasn't a morning person. He had asked a couple of questions and only gotten mumbled responses in return.
"Welcome again to my humble home," said Jason, entering through a door that led to his room.
The shorter man went to his bed and slid underneath the blankets. Clark slipped off his shoes and padded over to the bed. He looked over the blond, who lay nestled under the blankets, head on the downy, soft pillow, Blue eyes lifted up meeting green.
"Well climb aboard, sailor," he said, giving Clark a teasing smile.
Clark blushed. He had never shared a bed with another male before. His throat went dry as he gazed down at Jason, who was staring up him lazily, flirty smile covering his lips. Jason being a male wasn't a problem. Clark was gay. He had come to terms with that a long time ago, during his first year away at college, but that didn't mean that Clark still wasn't the shy, little virginal farmboy.
"I, uh, I think that I'll just sleep on the floor," replied Clark, stuttering softly.
Jason made a disgruntled sound. "This is a king-size bed, Clark. Get in or I'll make you get in."
Clark didn't reply. He slipped off his shirt, but kept his pants on. He had to get comfortable to sleep but not that comfortable. Sighing softy, he slid in beside Jason. His face was no more than five inches away from his new friends.
"Nice right?" questioned Jason, his eyes seeming bright with the humor lacing his voice.
"Mmm hmmm," said Clark, suddenly so tired to even form words.
The events of the past day had caught up to him and fatigue hit him like a meteor. The next thing he knew, his eyes closed and he was asleep, lost in the world of dreams.
Clark awoke with a loud yawn. Stretching like a cat that had just awoke from a nap, Clark sat up in bed and took a look around. His eyes drifted to a digital clock sitting on the top of a mini fridge near the bed. It was close to six thirty in the evening.
"Damn, I slept the whole day away," said Clark, talking to himself.
Clark looked over beside him. The bed was empty. Jason was nowhere in sight. Clark slid off the bed, picking up his shirt from the ground, he exited the room.
And welcome to the Twilight Zone he thought, walking down the stone corridor. He took a left, a right then another right, once again taking another left. Still, he seemed to be getting nowhere. The place may have well been a maze with all its twisting and turning.
Clark came upon a door that had an iron lock fixed into it. Clark pushed it a little and the door moved forward, opening on its own accord. What he saw on the other side was nothing short of unexpected.
The ceiling stretched up, high, very high, shadows clinging to its surface. Silk drapes hung from the ceiling. They were black and white folds that formed cloth walls on three sides. The fourth side was bare stone, painted white. A white stone fireplace adorned a wall, making the room seem like an actual lived place. Hiding the hearth was a silver fireplace screen. Around a glass coffee table was grouped four chairs, decorated in black in silver. On the table was a black vase filled with fresh, white tulips.
Above the fireplace was a painting that looked like it was done in the seventeenth century. There was a blond man, a dark haired man, and a brown haired woman, posing portrait style. They all were unearthly beautiful and looked close. There was no other word for it. Their eyes simply held love that they had for one another.
Click. Click.
Clark turned around hearing the sound of a gun being cocked back. His eyes widened and he gasped as he came face to face with a gun, aiming straight between his eyes. His eyes flicked from the gun to its holder. If he was surprised before, he was now. The holder was a small woman, probably five three, with wavy black hair and brown eyes that held a coldness to it that made Clark shudder inwardly. Her pale skin nearly glowed in the light.
"I'm only going to say this once and then I blow your fucking head off. Who the hell are you?"
Clark wasn't scared of the gun. If it was kryptonite then it would be another story, but bullets wouldn't do the trick.
"Who the fuck are you and I'll tell you who I am?" he replied, sounding more cocky than he felt. It was always better to play it brave than scared and helpless. Playing brave usually through them off.
The woman's face suddenly went blank. All expression left her face as she went into another place. Her eyes turned icy and her features turned into one of uncaring. Clark knew then and there that this woman was a genuine sociopath and she wouldn't hesitate one minute to pull the trigger.
The woman sighted up her arm and said coldly, "Wrong answer."
To Be Continued...
If you want to contact me then you may do so at Vampyreslyer@aol.com So Clark has met Anita. As we all know, Anita doesn't like strangers too much, so expect a rocky start. She hasn't shot him yet, so that's a plus.