I just finished up my Associate's degree. Some would consider this an accomplishment, but I really don't. I pretty much egoed my way through it, so It wasn't a major feat. What I am proud of is some of the things I wrote while pursuing said degree. In this series of posts, I'm going to be sharing some of these writings with you. The first is called Anonymity.
Anonymity is a piece of fanfiction (in short) that was assigned in my most recent creative writing class. It is a mixture of a few different pieces from different universes, of which I am a huge fan. I hope you like it.
The door pounded open, letting in a brisk whiff of snow and frigid air. He stood in the doorway a long moment, letting his long red cape billow and flap majestically in the wind. A triumphant smile touched only his lips framed by a square jaw. Beneath his perfectly trimmed and styled hair the man's baby blues glittered. He was bulletproof, he was ready for a fight; he was a bird, a plane -
"Dammit, Clark, get in here," the bald man wearing Armani shouted. "Melodramatic son of a bitch, letting the cold in." He took a pull from his beer and smiled to himself. He didn't have to know that the figure had disappeared from the doorway, that the man zipped away, faster than a speeding bullet to find a phone booth. He was fairly certain that Clark paid the City of Metropolis to keep those antiques open just for his own use. Lex heard a rumor that Clark once had a run-in with The Doctor, and had wound up being chased by dinosaurs for the better part of an hour (minus commercial breaks, he supposed). . . That was a good day. What bothered Lex was that he needed a phone booth in order to change his clothes, when anyone else could have used a bathroom stall. Other than that one elusive bit, he was fairly well-educated about how his nemesis functioned.
But that was out there, this was Mac's place.
Buried in the heart of Chicago, Mac's was a gathering place for itinerant wizards to gather and blow off a little steam. Scattered around the place were thirteen polished wooden tables of varying heights and sizes, punctuated with thirteen load-bearing columns and thirteen ceiling fans whopping away. Mac had a crush on the number thirteen. Lex had always wondered, but never asked Smiling John Marcone as to why. It was the kind of place Lex would never have deigned to so much as look at, even if he could have purchased a third-world nation rich in coca plants and cheap labor there. It wasn't. Posted next to the door was a charred wooden sign with the words ACCORDED NEUTRAL TERRITORY burned into it. In short, if a conflict arose, and those involved failed to take it outside, they would have angered the entire supernatural community. People obeyed.
The door opened again behind Lex's back, this time with a hint of flaccidity. Even the bells seemed ashamed to be jingling an announcement for the bespectacled kid in a cheap tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. He had as much presence in the room as an appletini had masculinity.
"Sorry, everyone. I'm letting in the cold." He turned, limply pulling the door closed behind him, and shuffled over to the bar. Mac stared at him, arms folded over his pristine white apron. "Can I get a steak sandwich and an appletini, please?"
Mac stared at him. Mac's bald head gleamed at him.
The reporter's shoulders sagged. "I'll have a burger and a beer, please."
The corner of Mac's mouth twitched upward. He turned away and slapped a chunk of ground cow onto the grill.
When he was finally seated at the table with his jacket hung from the back of the chair, his glasses firm against his brow, and his testicles detached and far away from wherever he was ... Clark sighed.
"I'm going to kill you," Lex informed him, like a friendly neighbor who gathered his mail while he was out of town. "Sometime this week."
"Sounds like a blast."
"You're going to love it. I've been planning this for a long time."
"I can shoot lasers out of my eyes, Lex. You know that, right?"
"Have you ever heard of mirrors? Jesus, Big S, I prefer you with your cape on." Lex sighed and took a pull from his beer. He took a delicate bite of his burger, chewing slowly, as befits a member of his social and economic standing. "How's Lois doing?"
"Don't ask." A bottle was placed in front of Clark, its cap askew. He looked up at Mac like a leper recently cured by Christ himself. He flipped off the top with his thumb and drained the bottle in a single pull. "Can I get another, please?"
"Wow," Lex said. "If she knew you sucked like that, you'd have even less chance with her than you do now."
"We've been dating for six months, Lex. You know that."
"And I am super happy for you."
"Dammit, I hate you sometimes."
"Well, I do try to kill you an awful lot."
Lex smiled, ran his palm over his scalp. "I've got to go."
"Why you leaving so soon? I haven't seen you in months, you've gotta stay for another round, please!"
"I can't do that Clark. I've got evil to do, and nations to conquer." He shrugged. "You know, the usual. Plus, I heard Spidey is going to be dropping by, I can't stand that guy."
"What? You can't just leave me here with him!"
"I'll see you out there, Man of Steel." Lex winked at him and slipped out into the cold.
I hoped you all enjoyed! Stay tue
Tony Is Me.
See Above... and below.