and now, my rebuttal

Reccing Notes: I can safely say, the very first Chloe/Davis fic that made me howl of laughter. And then made me wish that PS3 had been ingenious enough to go through with it.

davis pov.
1,156 words, pg, bride.
by seriousfic at her lj.

Davis knows it looks bad, but he has an explanation for everything.


Hey, sports fans. Davis Bloom here, coming at you from the Arctic Circle. I know you’ve probably heard a lot about my actions recently, so I’m here to set the record straight.

First off, could we please stop calling me Doomsday? I have a name. How come I have to be Doomsday and Clark gets to be Superman? How about he’s Memory Rapist and I’m… Abraham Lincoln? How about that?

Second, I know it looks bad, me being naked, covered in blood (but not to you goth girls. Thanks for the fan mail by the way). But the thing you don’t know is that I black out when I transform into my alter ego. I get up, covered in spikes, and try to give someone a high-five, or a friendly pat on the back, maybe even a goose to the butt – hey, I never said I was perfect. Next thing I know, they’re eviscerated. But I always do the conscientious thing and clean up after myself. Does Clark bust out the brick and mortar after he throws someone through a wall? Nope.

And then that cop came by. Well, you all saw how I tried to explain myself to him, but next thing I know, he’s pulled a gun out and is shooting me! Unfortunately (or fortunately) my skin is good for more than Gray Hulk cosplay. The bullets bounced right off me and hit him. Not one of my finer moments, but hardly my fault.

No sooner do I get him cleaned up then I remember Chloe’s wedding. I head over there to be the bigger man and wish her good luck on her special day. Now, a lot of you don’t know this, but I get around by getting up a good head of steam and then jumping for miles. Maybe it’s not as stylish as those gas-guzzling F-150 pick-up trucks, Clark, but I green my effing routine.

Unfortunately, on my last jump I noticed that there was a passenger plane in my path. Through sheer force of will, I was able to maneuver past it. Have you seen that James Bond film where Roger Moore gets thrown out of a plane without a parachute and has to steal one? It was one of the ones with Jaws? It was kinda like that. Now, although I did succeed in saving all of the plane passengers, that caused me to overshoot my mark and land right on top of Clark’s farm.

As a sidenote, who in the hell gets married in a barn? Yeah, Jimmy, I’m sure as a little girl, Chloe’s fondest wish was to get married in someplace that smells like hay and cows. Now, me, I would reserve one of those big churches for a wedding the second she put on my ring, because I care. But back to the story.

Now, that farm was clearly structurally unstable, which I can only blame on Clark’s preference for having awkward sexual tension with Miss Lois Lane rather than doing basic home maintenance. I mean, the guy keeps a radioactive isotope in his desk! We’re not dealing with Bob Vila here! Beams are falling everywhere, the place was obviously going to collapse at any minute, and since I doubt turning into a naked EMT would calm them down, I thought on my feet and decided to scare them into running. Well, not even scare, more of a ‘emphatically point toward the exits.’

So then Clark comes up to me. Now, here’s a guy who’s an actual outer space alien. You’d think he wouldn’t judge on appearances. Maybe ask me how my day’s been, what I’m doing there, how my mother’s holding up… but no! He throws a punch!

Well, clearly I can’t have a big superhero throwdown in the middle of a crowded barn. People could get hurt. So I threw him towards the trace radiation I detected from that lead box he keeps around (oh, yeah, I can detect radiation. I bet you thought I was just really strong. I bet you also didn’t know that I have the power… to feel). There, safely irradiated by Kryptonite, he wouldn’t cause any more problems.

Then I took out the camera. What can I say, I didn’t want to end up naked and spiky all over Youtube. I have a right to privacy.

Now, everyone else had run away, but for some reason Jimmy was keeping Chloe there. Maybe it was a deer in the headlights thing. Being a gentleman, I went over to apologize for ruining her special day. And what do you think that little dillweed goes? He grabs a two-by-four and hits me!

Now, maybe this didn’t come across in the editing (they went totally reality TV on everything), but when that didn’t work, he rushed me. Now, as some of you might’ve noticed, I have spikes on my chest. He was going to skewer himself. So I shoved him aside, accidentally lacerating him with the spikes on my hands.

Then there was some crying from Chloe. Of course, that barn was still groaning up a storm. So I picked her up and took her away. The barn collapsed shortly after, which was why you saw so many people in the hospital. So I took Chloe to Brainiac…

(He was an old college friend. That’s another thing you probably didn’t know, but it could win you a million dollars on a quiz show someday.)

Where he graciously put us up while we all chilled. Chloe was so grateful for my thoughtfulness that she personally thanked me. Apparently, she’d had cold feet for a while, she just couldn’t be honest about them due to various memory problems. My wedding crashing (get it?) had given her the perfect excuse to think things over.

Now, I couldn’t stay in monster form and talk to her, so I shrunk down and… well, I was naked, and the only clothes the Fortress had was this gay set of blue and red rights. Underwear on the outside. So one thing led to another and…

Well, I might’ve ruined Chloe’s wedding, but I definitely saved the honeymoon. Brainiac was kind enough to dim the lights and play some Barry White, which was a nice break from the howling Arctic winds.

Thankfully we weren’t interrupted by Clark, since he was busy checking up on Lana in the hospital, checking up on Lois in the hospital, hell, I think he might’ve checked up on Kissinger in the hospital.

So, there you have it. The only thing I’m guilty of is being a good friend.

Of course, I’m sure you’re all going to take Jimmy’s side just because I horribly mutilated him and slept with his wife, but I thought you should know all the facts before you start sending me hate mail. Because I may be invulnerable to bullets, knives, missiles, and low-yield nuclear warheads, but words? Words can still hurt.

Tell her how awesome you found it!