04/13/15 Snippet and Update

Hey all, how’ve you been doing?

Been a while since I checked in so I thought I’d post an update out into the universe and let you all know I’ve been well. Things have slowed down a bit with my writing the past 2 weeks with work picking up due to the spring season. Writing will slow down a bit more these next 5 weeks as i’m taking more classes for this semester of class. In the mean time, if you need something to read that I’m working on or want to support me please drop by here and do the following in some way:

Share a link to the blog, send me art to potentially post and go along with my stories, email me (Majinwiru@gmail.com), comment on my blog posts! Tweet or share the links on facebook!

 

Anything you guys can do to share or create word of mouth is certainly appreciated it. In m y journey as an author I’m trying to maximize my potential and become the best I can be. Part of that journey is not only working my tail off to become an excellent writer but developing support and a community to support that hard work!
In other news, one of my favorite people in the world Sammus has restocked more of her gear! Show some support by going over here

Sammus in her new Red tee

The new Red Sammus Tee

and buying a few things! Enough of my yammering though, here’s the snippet!

 

*********

 

“Hurry it up,” muttered Cross, glancing around at the relatively empty back street the van was creeping down.

“I’m keeping it at precisely the speed limit,” replied Exposition. “Are you asking me to break the law?”

“Yes!” replied Cross. “I have a date!”

“Really?” Exposition stated conversationally. “Who with?”

“Cindy in R&D!” Cross growled. He pointed to the back of the van. “I’d like to get there before that damn thing kills us!”

“Relax,” said Henry calmly. “It’s sitting in a six-inch casing of negatanium. That should mute all such energies to next-to-nothing. Why do you think Akamatsu was able to finish the U-ray without incident?”

Michael considered it more important to ask why Akamatsu Industries Ltd. had immediately had a Buddhist Monk and a Shinto Priest on the premises to exorcise them. Or why they had broken out into a celebration as the van rolled out of sight. “I’d call spontaneous combustion an incident,” he muttered.

“No scientific method at all,” Exposition stated disdainfully. “Would you rather we not build a U-ray?”

“Of course not,” Cross stated uncertainly. “The cause of peace demands it. I know that.”

The cause of peace had in fact demanded that SHIELD build some of the most terrifyingly deadly and destructive weapons in the world, thus serving it by reducing the number of pesky living people who could be at times less than peaceable.

Exposition turned down a road. “Hmm,” he muttered. “Road block up ahead…”

Cross started. “In a warehouse district?”

Exposition shrugged. “Accidents happen everywhere.” He slowed the van into a stop, and leaned out the window. A pair of policemen stood there. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Exposition stated calmly. “May I ask why you’ve set up a road block here?”

“Certainly,” said an apparent policeman. “To stop you SHIELD dogs!” At that moment, a horde of men in green and yellow bodysuits surrounded the van. The two policeman quickly removed their uniforms, revealing similar outfits. “Well, well. It seems our information has panned out beautifully,” said one. “Now, hand over the U-ray so it may used for the glorification of HYDRA!” He raised his fist, an action imitated by his fellows. “Hail HYDRA! If you cut off one head—”

At that moment a large vehicle that looked like a corkscrew on wheels burrowed out of the ground. A group of men and women wearing rather bulky brown environmental suits topped by funnel-shaped helmets emerged. “Halt inferiors!” said one. “The U-ray will be claimed not by SHIELD or HYDRA, but by Advanced Idea Mechanics! Hail, AIM! The future shall be ours through tech—”

“Oh give it a rest, science boy!” muttered a HYDRA member. “Everyone knows you AIM flunkies are useless in a fight.”

Another one snorted. “Right. Just go back to your slide rule, flathead, and leave world-conquering to the professionals.”

“And what will you do, squidman?” asked an AIM member loudly. “Hold some nation hostage? ‘Cause that’s gotten such great results! At least we’ll be able to do something with the U-ray!”

“Hey, don’t knock our methods!” cried the first HYDRA member. “We’ve just been having a run of bad luck…”

“For sixty years? That’s some run!” shouted the AIM member. “Why do you think we left? We got sick of nothing getting done.”

“I thought you left because the giant head told you to,” muttered the second HYDRA member.

“Hey, don’t make fun of MODOK!” cried the AIM member. “He’s not just a giant head! He’s got arms—and legs too!” He stepped forward, looking ready to swing.

Another member grabbed him lightly by the shoulder. “Let it go, Dwight.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It just really, REALLY annoys me when they make fun of MODOK like that…”

“I know Dwight. I know.”

Dwight appeared to recover his equilibrium. “Anyway, your opinion of our illustrious and not really just a giant head at all leader doesn’t matter! AIM is getting the U-ray!”

“Nuh-uh!” shouted a HYDRA member. “It’s going to HYDRA.”

“Sadly,” said a quiet voice, “you are all wrong.” The HYDRA and AIM agents turned. A group of ninjas emerged from the shadows. “The U-ray has been claimed by the Hand, whose reach is as—”

“Oh, screw you ninja boy,” muttered an AIM agent. “You guys can boast all you want—you’re still packing knives to a gun fight.”

“The way of the warrior is a far greater weapon than your pitiful technology,” said one ninja loftily. “Our skills allow us to—”

A HYDRA agent shot him in the arm. The ninja collapsed in agony. “You were saying?” asked the HYDRA agent.

“Oh—oh God! I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding!” screamed the ninja. “I—I think that one chipped a bone!”

“Face it!” chortled another HYDRA agent. “You guys and the funnelheads are going to get slaughtered.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of our costumes!” cried an AIM agent. “They may be bulky, and they don’t look too flashy, but they double our strength.”

“So,” muttered a Hand ninja, “you can lift two whole pounds now?”

This statement led to more unpleasantness, and so all those present were shouting when the helicopter landed.

“Squabbling, eh?” A man wearing a bisecting suit stepped out, followed by a bunch of lackeys, and a woman clad in flowing robes, and holding a bow. “Typical of rank amateurs.”

“Oh, hell,” muttered a HYDRA agent. “Zodiac…” The other criminals grumbled in agreement. Zodiac was one of the most universally resented gangs in the criminal underworld. On the one hand, they got their hands on more technology, and loot then most other crime syndicates even dreamed of. On the other hand, such things were soon wasted on Byzantine plots that didn’t even make much sense.

“Let’s see—Gemini—and Sagittarius,” noted an AIM member. “Is this the real you—or is a set of robotic duplicates?”

“Maybe yes,” said Gemini, “maybe no.” With that he and Sagittarius chuckled.

“Hand over the U-ray,” said Sagittarius in a dark whisper, “and when the Zodiac rules over all the—”

A large truck pulled in behind them, toppling over the helicopter.

“Son of a—” shouted Gemini, as he backed away.

“Looks like things aren’t going your way…” muttered Dwight the AIM agent.

“And we do have that little—numeric advantage thing,” pointed out a HYDRA agent.

“With our skills, it won’t help you,” stated Sagittarius confidently. “Besides it’s not like you losers could ever unite against us.”

“Don’t bet on it, lady,” muttered the wounded Hand ninja. Everyone present turned to look at the truck.

It was a large truck, with a rather tasteless picture of a beautiful woman cradling a bowling pin. A group of scowling men in purple and green bodysuits with a patch showing a bowling ball striking a pin on their foreheads emerged from it. Finally a man clad in what appeared to be mechanized body armor stepped out. “I am Hardstrike. My men and I make up the ideological organization known as Stick and Balls.”

“Yes,” shouted his men in unison. “That is our name. It is what we are called.”

“We will take the U-ray, and use it to restore bowling to its proper place in the world,” continued Hardstrike.

“Yes,” shouted his men. “That is what we will do. It is the action we will be taking.”

The general response to Stick and Balls arrival was close to the reaction that happens when a man in a clown costume arrives at a formal dress party.

“Stick and Balls,” muttered an AIM member. “Unfortunate name.”

“I know,” said a ninja. “I always thought we had it bad. The ‘Hand’ and all that…”

“So how are you—going to promote bowling…?” asked a HYDRA agent. “With the—U-ray.”

“Easy,” snorted Hardstrike confidently. “First, we will use the U-ray to destroy all opposing sports. Then, we will demand that bowling be made the national sport—of the world!” He raised his arms in triumph. “We will triumph by the strength of our magnificent sticks, and glorious balls!”

Most of the criminals winced at this—master plan.

With one exception.

“An intriguing plot,” said Gemini. “Do you plan to involve robots in it?”

“No,” said Hardstrike. “That would be silly.”

Back at the SHIELD van, Cross was panicking. “Damn it—how did so many get here?”

“There must be a leak,” said Exposition calmly.

“A leak?” cried Michael. “A leak would be one of them knowing about it. This is a freakin’ gouge!” He glanced outside. “Okay, they’re still debating salvage rights. Let’s run for it. We can make it to the rendezvous point, and alert SHIELD security.”

“I think you’re forgetting the first duty of every SHIELD agent,” said Exposition, patriotism dripping from his voice. “To die in the line of duty, so that Nick Fury looks more impressive.”

Cross stared at him, dumbfounded. “You know, Henry, I always knew you were crazy, but I never thought you were insane.” He got out of the van, and started to run. A shot rang out. Michael looked up weakly, to see Exposition holding a smoking pistol. “Y-you betrayed me…” he muttered, startled.

“Actually, by running you betrayed both me and SHIELD, you pinko rat bastard,” corrected Exposition.

This point apparently so mortified Cross, that he died.

Henry turned to the criminals. “Terribly sorry about that. He just wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Now then, shall we get this over with?” He raised his pistol. “For SHIELD!” With that, Henry Exposition charged forward.

In five seconds, he took sixteen gun shots, five shuriken, and a bowling ball to the head.

“Good shot,” commented a ninja to Hardstrike.

“Thank you,” replied Hardstrike. “I pride myself on my aim. If I cannot perfect my skills, then I am not worthy of my magnificent Stick and Balls.”

 

***

 

Stick and Balls henchmen

Stick and Balls

#TheDefenders Chapter 5 Snippet

Hey all, been a bit busy so sorry for the delay before I finally got this post up!

 

Introducing a new character into #TheDefenders verse in this snippet. So, I hope you all enjoy. If you’d like to read a full chapter or maybe more from the defenders please send any inquiries to me on Twitter or hit my email majinwiru@gmail.com.

 

 

Nyssa

***

The first thing Nyssa heard when she came to was, “Well, this is new! Usually I’m the comatose one…” Her eyes shot open. She found herself staring at the gaunt, pale face of Jameson Smith. This was not a comforting sight, a fact that Jameson was aware of through years of experience. Thus he didn’t blame her for narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Who are you?” she aksed commandingly. “And where am I?”

 

Jameson gave a polite cough. “I’m Jameson Smith. You are in my house.” He smiled in what he hoped was a charmingly disarming manner. “We’ve—met earlier.”

 

Nyssa’s eyebrow shot up slightly. Her eyes remained very narrow. “I think I vaguely remember that. Are you the one who felt me up?”

 

“Oh, for the last time, you weren’t felt up!” snapped Jameson.

 

This answer was in many respects unfortunate, as it caused Nyssa’s eyebrows to arch higher. “What do you mean, ‘for the last time’?”

 

Jameson’s eyes widened in stark terror. “Something that has nothing to do with the subject at hand?” he suggested hopefully.

 

Jameson was something of an expert in withering glances, due to a combination of natural disposition, and extensive training. He was quite capable of making a brave man whimper, then wet himself with one screw faced glance. And with such expertise, he could say that Nyssa’s gaze was the visual equivalent of thumbscrews, being fully capable of making an utter sociopath break down and confess to years old crimes.

 

Jameson gulped, and managed a soft laugh. “I really think we should leave vague uncertain happenings in the vague uncertain past, where they will continue to be vague, uncertain, and never spoken of again. Ever!” He smiled broadly, then glanced nervously away.

 

Nyssa took a deep breath. “Listen, I can sympathize with your—difficulties, but realize this is not a situation that engenders trust.”

 

“Oh, come on!” said Jameson, annoyed. “Do I look like the kind of man who preys on helpless young women he finds on the street?” He winced, “Don’t answer that.”

 

Nyssa screwed up her mouth. “Actually the fact you asked had me looking for a blunt object.”

 

“You’ve given that up?” asked Jameson with a note of hope.

“You don’t look that formidable,” replied Nyssa. “I think I can take you.”

 

Jameson blinked. “How courteous of you to tell me that.”

 

“Please step back. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

 

Jameson looked at her. She had an odd way of speaking, actually—a slight accent, which was to be expected, though Jameson couldn’t for the life of him place it, and a very formal tendency in her diction that was very—off­putting.

 

He had no idea why he’d thought she was so amazingly attractive. It had clearly been a momentary lapse of reason.

 

Especially comparing her to Ashley.

 

Not that he had done that.

 

He had no idea why he suddenly felt so guilty.

 

Nyssa stared at him. “Are you always so fidgety?”

 

Jameson fidgeted awkwardly. “What are you talking about?”

 

“That would be a yes,” murmured Nyssa.

 

Jameson blinked, then glared at her. “You know, I face a lot of trouble, and a lot of annoyance, so you’d think I’d be used to it, but in fact all that happens is I get more and more irritated,” stated Jameson, gesturing emphatically. “And now you come along, ask me for help, and then start picking me apart like a freaking game of Jenga, and it’s all I can do to not lose my temper—”

 

“What was that?” asked Nyssa, startled. “Before the part about you losing your temper?”

 

“Jenga,” said Jameson. “It’s a game where you stack these blocks, and you start picking them out of the stack, and putting them on top of it—”

 

“No, before that. I asked you for help?”

 

“Yes, and I felt pity, and gave it to you, an action for which the universe has seen fit to mock me once again,” said Jameson.

 

Nyssa stared at him for a moment, then glanced away. “I see. My apologies, My remarks were—unfair.”

 

“Also catty, sarcastic, and cruel,” noted Jameson. “But thanks for the apology.”

 

Nyssa placed her hands on her hips. “I’m starting to regret it.” As Jameson opened his mouth, she gestured that she wasn’t finished. “But please—I have been on the run for some time now and it has damaged my courtesy. Also, you’re appearance doesn’t exactly inspire trust.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” muttered Jameson. “People are just bowling me over with compliments today…”

 

Nyssa took a deep flustered breath. “Look, let’s just this out on different footing.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.” Jameson shut his eyes. “So, Nyssa—”

 

“How do you know my name?” she snapped.

 

“You told me earlier,” he stated calmly. “Now, where do you come from?”

 

“I’d rather not say,” Nyssa answered curtly.

 

“What’s your full name?”

 

“That’s really not important.”

 

“Is there someone I should contact?”

 

“I really don’t know.”

 

Jameson frowned severely. “Well aren’t you a kettlepot of useful information? I already feel my hostility dissolving in the face of your open nature and exceptional trust.”

 

Nyssa shut her eyes. “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to,” she said quietly. “The truth is, I don’t remember.”

 

Jameson blinked. “Amnesia?”

 

Nyssa stared at him. “You seem skeptical.”

 

“It’s greatly overrated,” noted Jameson, “People forget things for awhile, but rarely the vast tracks that tradition grants to amnesiacs.” Jameson thought that over. “Except the senile, and they lose most of their faculties. It’s not a pretty sight.” He glanced back at her. “So, what do you remember?”

 

Nyssa thought that over. “I know my first name but not my last. I know a great deal about your culture, but I don’t know how I learned it, and I don’t recall my own. I know your language, and though it sounds idiotic, I know it isn’t my language, but I don’t know how I know that, and I don’t know mine.” She blinked.

 

“The only thing I can recall about my family is that I had an uncle who died before I was born…” She glanced at Jameson. “Does the name ‘Namor’ ring a bell?”

 

“It doesn’t even register as a name,” said Jameson, “though since the sixties, anything is possible.”

 

“Jameson! We’re back!” came Karen’s voice.

 

Nyssa glanced at Jameson. “Who—?”

 

Jameson sighed. “My associates. You can trust them.” He shook his head. “Though if you’re going to jump at everything, I can just check you into a nearby asylum…”

 

Nyssa shut her eyes. “I was being chased by people!”

 

Jameson nodded. “You mentioned that when I picked you up.” He glanced at her. “Any idea who they are? Or has that also been conveniently blanked from your mind?”

 

“They haven’t introduced themselves,” stated Nyssa flatly.

 

Jameson seemed to be about to reply to that when Karen burst in holding a platter. “Ta da!” She placed the platter in front of Nyssa. “Your dinner is served!” She yamked off the cover.

 

“Well, that certainly took you long enough,” groused Jameson. “Hey, wait is that—”

 

Karen beamingly displayed the meal. “Your very own sushi platter!”

 

“You blew the money I gave you on sushi?!!” screamed Jameson.

 

Karen recoiled nervously. “You said to get food…”

 

“I was thinking ramen! Soba! Something cheap, and noodle­based! Not a very expensive sushi platter!” He looked the platter over. “You even got fatty salmon…”

 

“Jameson?” asked Karen quietly.

 

“That was my food money for the next two weeks…” muttered Jameson. “If I want to eat, I’m going to have to dip into my personal savings, which are not in the best shape right now.”

 

“Um, we’ll help…” offered Karen.

 

Jameson stared at her in disbelief. “No you won’t. You guys don’t have any money. That’s why you leech off me.”

 

“I can’t eat this,” announced Nyssa.

 

“What?” said Jameson suddenly.

 

Nyssa glanced at him awkwardly, then glanced down at the platter. “I can’t eat this. I’m a vegetarian.”

 

Jameson blinked. “Even for fish?”

 

Nyssa’s jaw clenched. “Especially for fish.” She looked Jameson. “I’m a pacifist, Mr. Smith, who holds all life sacred.”

 

“Oh, come on!” yelled Jameson. “They’re just fish! They don’t feel pain! I know—I’ve been fishing! I hooked the same fish five times! And had to keep throwing it back!”

 

Nyssa scowled “They do too feel pain! They just lack long­term memory! Can you imagine what that’s like? To be in horrific pain, and have no idea why?”

 

“Very easily,” muttered Jameson. He rubbed his temples. “Look, you claim that you can’t remember where you come from and what happened to you, but you do recall you’re a pacifistic vegetarian who’s inordinately fond of FISH!”

 

The pair glared at each other for awhile. Finally, Nyssa turned away. “I’m going to take bath. I need one. And I’m not going to eat that fish. That is the end of our discussion.” She walked out of the room.

 

Jameson watched her leave, then sat down and helped himself to the platter.

 

Karen blinked. “Jameson?!”

 

“She doesn’t want it, I paid for it—I will eat it then.” He scowled. “I am going to get some enjoyment out of this, because frankly, I’ve had enough trouble.”

 

Karen nodded slowly. “Oh.” She coughed. “Can I have some?”

 

“No.”

 

****

 

Jameson/Dr Strange

#TheDefenders Snippet Dr Strange vs Hellcat and Son of Satan

Hellcat

Hey all. Just a quick blog update before I head to work. Will spruce things up a bit more later on when I get away from work, until then hope you all enjoy!

 

Everyone give a special birthday shout out to #insomniacfamily member Shoom Isaacs today!(March 17th)

 

**

 

“So,” muttered an AIM member, “which of us will get the U-ray?”

 

Someone cleared their throat. “I believe the correct answer is ‘none of you’.”

 

It took everyone a moment to realize that the speaker was a pale young man in a rather expansive cape that had somehow wound up standing in the middle of them. He fidgeted nervously, as all eyes went on him. “Mind you—I’m just guessing. No need to take it seriously…”

 

“Who are you…?” said Sagittarius suspiciously.

 

“I’m Dr. Strange,” stated the young man with a nervous chuckle. He raised his hand. “Now, please back away from the van so that this whole affair ends to the satisfaction of all.”

 

“Or what…?” muttered a HYDRA agent menacingly.

 

A shimmying vortex appeared in Dr. Strange’s hand. “Or else, I will unleash the POWER OF THE TEMPEST!” A great blast of wind sent most of his opponents off their feet. “Winds! Buffet them! Lightning! Stun them! Rains! Umm…get them wet…” Elemental powers surged around him, tossing around the various agents as if they were kindling. In a few moments, most of the agents were lying prone on the ground, with the exception of those who were lying prone in trees, and prone on the tops of buildings.

 

Jameson glanced around, surprised. “That went immensely better than expected,” he commented quietly.

 

At that moment an arrow buried itself in the ground at his feet.

 

“Halt evildoer!” came a high voice.

 

Jameson rolled his eyes and whimpered. “Oh, perfect…” He turned.

 

“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” announced Karen in a lofty tone she considered awe-inspiring, “I just know that I don’t like it.”

 

Jameson sighed. “Well, it’s good to know you put a lot of thought into this…”

 

Karen leveled another arrow at him. “Hey! No mocking of my epic struggle against darkness! I demand you explain yourself…”

 

Jameson began to massage his forehead. He was really starting to wonder what this job was going to do to his health even if he did manage to avoid being eaten by something out of an H.R. Giger picture. “Look, you strange Halloween costume wearing girl, I really don’t care what you think—”

 

It was at that moment Jameson heard the sound of something hurtling through the air at great speed. He took a step to the right. And then two more, just to stay on the safe side.

 

Junichiro landed uneasily next to him, about three steps off.

 

Jameson glanced at him, then at Karen. “Pardon me, is this your pet?”

 

“Son of Satan!” yelled Karen. “You were supposed to get him with a flying tackle!”

 

“I tried!” shouted back Junichiro. “He sorta moved on me!”

 

“Oh, I’m tired of these constant excuses…” Karen muttered.

 

“Son of Satan?” stated Jameson flatly, eyes watching Karen with a combination of levity and despair.

 

“That’s right!” chirped Karen. “He’s Son of Satan, and I’m Hellcat!”

 

“Of course you are,” said Jameson with a pitying nod.

 

“Hey, we’re an up and coming superheroic duo!” She stated proudly.

 

“I’ve no doubt.” Jameson replied.

 

Karen pouted. “You should take us seriously.”

 

Jameson sighed. “Look, I’m guessing you two were bitten by radioactive wombats or something along those lines…”

 

“That’s not our origin at all!” cried Karen. “You see one day, I went to this old well—”

 

“I don’t care about your origin,” muttered Jameson. “My point is just because you’ve got X-ray vision doesn’t mean you should go blithely skipping off to make the world safe for fruit pies! Leave it to the professionals.” Even when they’ve only had a week of training and don’t quite feel up to the job, he added internally.

 

“We are professionals,” said Karen. “Professional good guys.”

 

She was, Jameson thought, exactly the sort of person who got themselves and others killed. Often in a slow, painful manner. “Look, normally I’d be nicer about this, but the truth is I reached my crazy crap limit an hour ago, and all I want to do is finish my work here, get home, soak in the tub, and come up with a compelling reason not to take the toaster in with me.” He took a deep breath. “So please, just let me get done here. And just—be careful.”

 

“HA!” said Karen triumphantly. “Nice try villain! But unfortunately for you, that Jewel shard in your pocket gives the truth away!”

 

Junichiro glanced at her. “Can I grab him now?”

 

Karen nodded. “You can grab him now.”

 

Junichiro grabbed Jameson by the shirt. “All right creep, I don’t know what your game is…”

 

“Well—I like Reversi…” Jameson coughed. “Look, about the shard—I’m really just holding it. For someone else. Really.” He flashed Junichiro a grin.

 

Junichiro snorted. “A likely story.”

 

Jameson shut his eyes. “You seem very sure of yourself for a man covered in scorpions.”

 

Junichiro glanced down at his shoulders, then blinked. “Sc-scorpions…?” He let out a piercing scream and dropped Jameson, then began to beat wildly at his shirt. “Get them off! Get them off!”

 

Jameson stood up, dusted off his cloak, and glanced at Karen. “Now, as for you, you’ve begun to irritate me, so I suggest you go do a mazurka.”

 

Karen stared at him, puzzled. “What’s a mazurka?”

 

“A sort of jig,” replied Jameson.

 

“They’re crawlin’ up my back!” screamed Junichiro. “Oh my God! They’re crawlin’ up my back!”

 

Karen coughed. “What’s a jig?”

 

Jameson began to squint in a manner that suggested a great deal of annoyance. “A variety of dance known for its energetic motions, and the fact that it can be danced solo.”

 

“Oh!” said Karen.

 

“They’re wrigglin’! They’re wrigglin’! Oh-oh-no-did I just feel a STING? Please no!”

 

Karen raised her bow. “I don’t think I’ll do it.”

 

Jameson’s eyes widened. “Oh, crap…”

 

Karen loosed her arrow.

 

Jameson shut his eyes, and raised his hand in panic.

 

The arrow dissolved in midair with an audible pop.

 

Jameson opened his eyes, and glanced up. He looked around for a moment, and then gave a relieved laugh. “Great. All my internal organs remain internal.”

 

Karen gulped.

 

“There’s one crawlin’ up my neck! There’s one crawlin’ up my neck!” squealed Junichiro.

 

Karen grabbed him, angrily. “Junichiro! I need your help!”

 

Junichiro screamed. “Don’t get ’em angry, Karen! They might sting!” He began to twitch. “Oh, NO, PLEASE, NOT NOW!”

 

Karen frowned. “There are NO scorpions on you!”

 

“Can’t you see them? Big hairy ones—with claws—an’ stingers, drippin’ with venom…”

 

“No scorpions!” shouted Karen.

 

Junichiro calmed a moment, then glanced himself over, surprised. “Umm, Karen?”

 

Karen glanced at him, concerned. “Yes?”

 

“Why’d I think I was covered in scorpions? Hell, why’d that frighten me anyway?”

 

“He did some evil mind thing on you,” said Karen, glaring at Jameson.

 

Junichiro looked at him and snarled. “Nobody plays with my mind.”

 

“Is that an issue of principles, or do they just have problems finding it?” asked Jameson.

 

Junichiro drew his sword, and rushed at him. “That’s it! You’re dead, freak!”

 

I’ve got to stop insulting these people, thought Jameson. They’re all so…touchy…

 

Junichiro slashed at Jameson with a mighty blow that would have cleft him in twain, had it actually hit.

 

Jameson stared at the bare patch of ground the Tetsaiga was presently lodged in, then glanced at Junichiro. “That was close.”

 

Junichiro jerked his sword free, and took another swing.

 

“I’m sorry about the scorpions, all right?” stated Jameson. “Does that make you happy?”

 

Junichiro grumbled to himself. It wasn’t that his opponent was especially fast—in fact he didn’t seem to even dodge his blows. He just had a way of being somewhere other than where you aimed…

 

Junichiro took another swing, screamed to himself, and then followed with a heavy swipe down that should have by all rights left Jameson with a very large gap in his skull. “Will you just get hit?” screamed Junichiro in frustration.

 

Jameson stepped slightly to the side. “Sorry, but while I’ve no doubt it’s a fascinating experience to be skewered by a gigantic blade, I’m going to have to pass on it. My deepest regrets.”

 

Junichiro was about to try for another swing, when the answer came to him. Don’t aim… Just attack… He charged forward, and managed a wild stab.

 

Jameson just barely managed to grab the sword as it plunged towards his skull. “Look…” he muttered, as Junichiro pressed Tetsaiga towards his head, “I thought I made myself clear—NOT getting skewered by the sword…” Slowly a reddish glow spread over the blade as Jameson tried to push it back through an act of Will.

 

He succeeded. Barely.

 

“I’m not letting you beat me!” screamed Junichiro.

 

“We can call it a draw!” cried back Jameson. “I find that solution very admirable!” Despite his efforts, the sword was creeping forward, towards his rather vulnerable skull.

 

It was at that moment that something neither of them was expecting happened.

 

“SIT!” cried Karen.

 

Junichiro fell forwards with enough force to unbalance Jameson, who fell backwards with a few feet away from the half demon. His falling also tore loose Tetsaiga. The blade soared briefly in the air, then fell to the ground, where, Jameson could not help but note, it landed only inches away from wiping out the existence of the Smith family name in all future generations.

 

“What’d ya do that for?” cried Junichiro to Karen as she rushed forward.

 

“I’m so sorry!” said Karen plaintively.

 

“Well, that’s more like it…” muttered Junichiro, as he righted himself.

 

Karen ran past him to Jameson. “We thought you were a supervillain! We really had no idea…”

 

“That,” muttered Jameson, with icy dignity, “was obvious.” He took a deep breath. “But you’re forgiven! Go buy yourself ice cream! Some place far, far away!”

 

Junichiro started. “Bu-but…” He let out a low scream. “What’s goin’ on?” He pointed at Jameson. “We were fightin’ him!”

 

Karen gave him a glare that immediately made Junichiro wish he were somewhere else, and quite possibly someone else as well. “Junichiro! Don’t you realize who he is? He’s a superhero!”

 

Junichiro blinked. “How’d ya figure that?”

 

Karen gave a cheerful laugh. “Through logic! He’s got a sacred jewel shard—but he isn’t using it! Only a good guy would do that, ’cause all bad guys are out for as much power as they can get. And ’cause no ordinary man could grab Tetsaiga, I realized we were with a fellow superhero!”

 

The look on Junichiro’s face made it clear he didn’t think much of her logic.

 

The furtive glance on Jameson’s face made it clear he didn’t either, but that he also felt no burning need to dissuade her.

 

Karen missed that glance, even as she went to grab his arm. “Like I said, I’m so sorry about that mix-up.” From her tone, a person would guess this was about a mistake involving house keys instead of a potentially deadly struggle. “We’re thrilled to meet you!” She turned to Junichiro, and gave him a pointed glance. “Aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah,” said Junichiro. “Thrilled.”

 

“So…” Karen paused, clearly puzzled. “Hey, I didn’t catch your name…” she stated cheery.

 

“That’s because I didn’t say it,” replied Jameson dourly.

 

“Oh.” Karen gave him a piteous look.

 

Jameson shoved his hands in his pockets, and glanced around awkwardly. “Dr. Strange.”

 

“Wow!” Karen beamed at him. “That is a good name!” She glanced at Junichiro. “Isn’t it, Son of Satan?”

 

Junichiro grimaced. “Well, it sure as hell beats MINE!” He leaned forward urgently. “Can we at least go back to our REAL names in private, Karen? This is gettin’ ridiculous…”

 

“Quiet, Son of Satan!” hissed Karen. “And call me Hellcat!”

 

Jameson walked ahead quietly. They seemed busy, which meant he could just take care of the shard here and leave.

 

“Hey! Whatcha doin’?” said Karen cheerfully.

 

Jameson shuddered slightly. “Just taking care of this pesky little sacred jewel shard…”

 

Karen gave another enthusiastic nod. “Oh, Son of Satan and I can help! We have a duty to collect those things…”

 

“About time you remembered that…” muttered Junichiro.

 

Jameson glanced around. Something was wrong, and he had an awful idea what it was. “That’s nice,” he said absently.

 

Karen gave a cheerful laugh. “I just want to say this is an honor.” She leaned forward so that she dominated Jameson’s field of vision. “We’re eager to learn at the metaphorical feet of an experienced superhero such as yourself.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” said Junichiro peevishly.

 

“Junichiro!” whispered Karen harshly.

 

“He covered me in SCORPIONS!”

 

“Not really,” pointed out Karen. “He just made you think you were. Which makes it your fault.”

 

“OH COME ON!” cried Junichiro.

 

Jameson was holding his palm to his forehead as if in great pain. “Umm, Hellcat—I have my first lesson for you.”

 

“Really?” said Karen.

 

Jameson nodded. “When trying to apprehend a deadly superweapon powered by evil magic, do not fight your fellow heroes so that villains can get away with said deadly superweapon.”

 

Karen mused on this. “Doesn’t seem like that will happen too often…”

 

“Oh, once is enough,” muttered Jameson, as he looked at the back of the SHIELD van, where the U-ray was only conspicuous in its absence.

 

**

 

The Doctor is in.

Doctor Strange

03/11/2015 #TheDefenders Snippet, In The Mix, and a bit of tea.

Pastepot Pete!

Pastepot Pete

 

Hello all! How’ve you been since the last update?

 

After a lot of reviewing and reading I’ve finally been able to get this blog post up and live for consumption. Before I get into talking about the story two things: Today’s blog post is brought to you courtesy of two of the podcasts I follow: In the Mix with Shoom and Tea with Queen and J. If you guys could do me a favor and follow them/like them on their social media accounts then I’d really appreciate it. I definitely think everyone should take the time to support them as they are part of the #InsomniacFamily as far as I’m concerned.  I have also included links to the latest episodes of the two series along with today’s blog post, I hope you enjoy!

 

One of my favorite people in the universe, Sammus, is currently embarking on her very first tour with the incomparable Mega Ran! Tonight’s show is in Yellow Springs, Ohio! If you have the time and are in the area, please drop by and check them out tonight! Below is the full list of appearances and dates on the tour!

 

 

RSVP here on Mega Ran’s FB page

 

In the mix w/Shoom

In the mix w/Shoom

Like on Facebook!

https://www.facebook.com/inthemixwithshoom

Follow on Twitter!

http://www.twitter.com/Inthemixshoom

 

Tea with Queen + J

Tea with Queen and J

Like on facebook!

https://www.facebook.com/TeawithQueenandJ

follow on twitter!

https://twitter.com/TeawithQJ

 

Alright, after you guys follow these links and “Like” these pages I hope you enjoy today’s snippet! :) Please don’t forget to drop me feedback after you’ve read!

 

 

****

 

Jameson, after foiling six attempted invasions of the Earth by demonic entities of various stripes, was really getting tired of his new job.

 

 

Maybe it was because the only pay he received was a sense of satisfaction of job well done, or at least done. Well, that and his continued existence. Which might be a plus, he admitted.

 

 

Maybe it was because the average demon was a grotesque mockery of all life. With absolutely no taste, and even less of a sense of humor. He’d had to raid several demonic dimensions, all of which featured flowing rivers of blood, strobe lighting, and “You Don’t Have to Be Damned to Work Here—But It Helps!” signs on the walls.

 

Jameson took a deep sip of his rather indifferent, lukewarm latte. A paper airplane that had been painstakingly folded from a napkin struck him on the back of the head.

 

 

Or perhaps, he appended, it was all the mockery his outfit was attracting as he paused to get refreshed at an all-night café.

 

 

Jameson turned abruptly. “All right you creep, I seem to recall that this is a free country, where a man can stop for a cup of coffee, and not have to worry about persecution based on the way he dresses.”

 

 

The entire clientele of the café glanced at him, and then glanced pointedly away.

 

 

“I’ll have you know I have a perfectly good reason for wearing this outfit!” Jameson began to wave his fist. “I am a SUPERHERO!”

 

 

The crowd continued to pointedly glance away.

 

 

Jameson sat back down. “Ingrates,” he muttered under his breath. Maybe he should just let the N’Gai toast a city district. That would show them…

 

 

The café’s waitress approached him. “Anything else?”

 

 

Jameson glanced at her. “Tell me, if I order another latte, would it actually be hot?”

 

 

The waitress shrugged. “Miracles have been known to happen.”

 

 

Jameson frowned. “That’s what I thought…” He handed her a few bills. “Keep the change…” The waitress nodded and headed out. Jameson sighed. He shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. After all, it was just a paper airplane. He’d dealt with worse his entire life. At least right now, he was having a quiet moment, after an eventful stress-filled night.

 

 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Well, night owls, prepare for a stick-up of the most figurative kind! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson’s head slumped down to the countertop. Well, at least his luck was holding out. All bad. Righting himself, he turned to look at this new threat.

 

 

Jameson blinked. Then he blinked again, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Then he blinked a third time, in the desperate hope that he was. However, it appeared he wasn’t. The café really was about to be robbed by a man dressed largely in purple spandex—right up to the cowl on his rather vulpine face. The man’s gloves and boots were both a light red in color, and in his left hand, he held what looked for all the world like a military attempt at designing a squirt gun.

 

 

“Tremble, yes tremble fools at my awesome might! It will consume you! Quail before my power! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson’s teeth ground together at the apparent supervillain’s high-pitched laughter. Maybe if I just sit here quietly, this will blow over, he thought. I mean, it’s not like I owe these people anything. I’ve already saved their sorry carcasses tonight, and I’m going to do it again. I can sit this one out. Might teach them a lesson. That was when he caught a desperate glance from the waitress. “Damn social conscience…” muttered Jameson, standing up.

 

 

“Attention, supervillain!” he stated in his best attempt at a loud commanding voice. “Before you stands Dr. Strange, self appointed nemesis to unpleasantness. Now cease your criminal activities and inordinate cackling or face my completely justifiable wrath.”

 

 

“Oh, really?” snorted the villain. “And tell me, Doctor are you ready to face the uncanny power of—PASTE-POT PETE?”

 

 

Jameson’s face went slack. “What?”

 

 

“I said, ‘are you ready to face the uncanny power of Paste-pot Pete’?” His opponent frowned. “What are you, deaf?”

 

 

Jameson buried his face in his hands. The universe, he felt, was an unjustifiably silly place, sometimes.

 

 

Paste-pot Pete (who was known to family and—well, acquaintances, as Jake Jennings) smiled to himself. His first act of supervillainy was already a roaring success. His superhero opponent had been reduced to quivering terror at the very mention of his name! Soon, very soon, Jerry Jenkins would be defeated!

 

 

All right—so technically, this was his second act of supervillainy. His first, an attempted bank robbery, had derailed fairly quickly. He’d handed a note saying “Prepare to get sticky” to a teller, and then had waited half an hour, at which point a pair of muscular security guards had shown up, and forcibly hauled him off, explaining as they did so that the bank didn’t want perverts intent on monkey business hanging around the premises.

 

 

Fortunately, no one had noted the beginning of his career in crime, and Jake had been able to take away two very important lessons.

 

 

Firstly, banks are far too heavily protected to be robbed with impunity. It would be wiser to go for a place that wasn’t expecting it.

 

 

Secondly, his impromptu costume of an artist’s smock and dark glasses just didn’t seem to grab people’s attention, at least, not in a way that screamed ‘supervillain’.

 

 

Jake gave a satisfied nod. Purple spandex had definitely been the way to go.

 

 

Jameson, after a couple of deep breaths, glanced up. “Okay,” he announced. “My burst of existential horror is over. I accept the terrifying fact that a man may want to dress in spandex and call himself Pasty Pete—”

 

 

“That’s Paste-Pot Pete!” cried Jake, menacingly waving his gun around.

 

 

“Right,” said Jameson in the calm cool tone that is generally used by men of extraordinary patience on children of remarkable intransigence. “As I was saying, it’s the sort of thinking that gives the world quite a few rock stars.” Jameson’s toe was starting to tap impatiently on the floor. “But what puzzles me is what superpowers a man called Post-Haste Pete—”

 

 

“I said, that’s Paste-Pot Pete!” screamed Jake.

 

 

“Dear me,” said Jameson. “Did I misspeak myself? Must be the lateness of the hour. To continue, what powers might he possess?”

 

 

“A worthy question,” cackled Jake. “My power comes from my brilliant invention, the paste pistol!” Jake glanced at his creation lovingly. Well, truthfully it was that bastard Jenkins’s invention, which Jake had… liberated from his lab, but still, his nemesis had been blind to its more advanced applications. In fact, he had built it for nothing more than to fix a few loose tiles on the school roof, showing as usual the inferiority of his so-called genius in comparison to the incomparable mind of Jake Jenkins. “With this I shall become one of the leading lights of the criminal world! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson seemed to be staring at him rather strangely. “I’m happy for you. So—your—paste pistol…” Jameson bit his lip, in apparent frustration. “It shoots—paste, I’m guessing?”

 

 

Jake snickered. “That’s right! A very sticky paste! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He nodded some more. “Would you just—give me a second…?” Jameson turned around, glanced at the café’s patrons, and screamed. “All right people!” he shouted. “Would a reasonably fit man care to take a chair to the back of Pastel Pete’s head?”

 

 

“That’s Paste-Pot Pete!” cried Jake.

 

 

“Shut up!” said Jameson forcibly. He glanced back at the crowd. “Come on! He’s a scrawny young man who is trying to hold you up with a glue gun! Am I the only one here who realizes the inherent absurdity of this fact?”

 

 

The other patrons made it a point of order to avoid looking at Jameson.

 

 

“You all suck,” muttered Jameson. “I want you to realize that…”

 

 

“What to do you mean ‘inherent absurdity’? Are you insulting me, you cape-wearing lunatic?”

 

 

“Yes, I’m insulting you because you are probably one of the most intrinsically incompetent supervillains in existence,” seethed Jameson. “Have you ever considered the obvious limitations of your ‘power’? Suppose, for example, that you are robbing a bank. The manager knows the combination to the safe. He won’t open it. What do you do?”

 

 

“Simple,” snickered Jake. “I’d tell him to do it, or face a blast from my paste pistol.”

 

 

“And what would that do?”

 

 

“It would—make him very sticky…” stated Jake, a touch of uncertainty trailing into his voice.

 

 

“And why would that be threatening?” Jameson asked quietly.

 

 

“He—really doesn’t like being sticky…” Jake’s expression was now openly confused.

 

 

“It’s not threatening at all!” Jameson shouted. “If you’d have thought about it, you’d have known it! You’d have seen your only superpower is using a gun that’s less effective than a normal gun!”

 

 

“It—it makes people sticky!” Jake muttered defensively.

 

 

“A normal gun makes people dead,” replied Jameson. “Being dead is much worse than being sticky.”

 

 

“Oh—oh, shut up!” screamed Jake raising his paste pistol. “No one insults my reign of supervilliany…” He pulled the trigger.

 

 

A trickle of brownish fluid leaked out of the muzzle. “What—? ” Jake muttered in shock.

 

 

“Oh, yes,” said Jameson in a rather amused tone. “While we were chatting, I transformed your glue to molasses.”

 

 

Jake stared at him in dull surprise.

 

 

“Or maybe treacle.” Jameson began to tap his chin, in speculation. “Actually, those might be the same thing…”

 

 

“You’re working for him, aren’t you?” Jake stated hatefully. “You’re working for Jerry Jenkins!”

 

 

Jameson glanced at Jake, baffled. “Who?”

 

 

“Don’t play dumb with me!” screamed Jake. “This is just another one of that bastard’s attempts to bring me down! Well, Paste-Pot Pete is not as easy to defeat as Jake Jennings!” He triumphantly pulled out a greenish cylinder from his back pocket. “Behold! A second load of ammunition!”

 

 

Jameson sighed. “You really take too much relish in even the smallest triumphs, you know that?”

 

 

Jake changed his canisters quickly, then leveled the gun at Jameson. “Let’s see you get out of this one!”

 

 

Jameson stared at him forcibly.

 

 

Jake blinked. “Gettin’ sleepy…” he muttered. “Go night-night now…” With that he crashed to the floor and within minutes was laying there in a fetal position, snoring.

 

 

“Had to keep at it, didn’t you?” Jameson shook his head. He turned to the café patrons. “And thus was the scary Potboy Pete, wielder of the mighty glue gun, vanquished.” He walked out. “Don’t expect me to be so helpful next time…”

 

 

Shortly after he left the patrons glanced at each other. “Well, it seems that shrill, ugly fellow really was a superhero!”

 

 

“Yes. We’re all in his debt it seems.”

 

 

“What was his name again?” asked one.

 

 

“Ummmm… I think it was “Professor Weird, or something…” said another, uncertainly.

 

 

“No, daddy, I’m a good boy…” whimpered an unconscious Jake from the floor. “It was Natalie…” He began to suck his thumb nervously.

 

****

 

 

And here’s the podcast updates, as promised!

 

 

 

More from #TheDefenders

Sup guys? This blog was ‘sposed to drop earlier today while I was still in my coffin recovering from an overnight yet for some reason it never posted. I guess it wasn’t meant to be? Anywho, had something really exciting happen from me yesterday when I had an actual writer from Marvel comment on one of my tweets!

 

Took me completely off guard! I guess this means I might be a bit closer to being acknowledged on a bigger scale? …or maybe he just stumbled across it. Eh, anywho, I’ll be using today’s post to introduce two more characters into the world of Jameson Smith aka Dr Strange. Please read on below and then give me some feedback when you’re finished!

 

*************

 

 

Charles Kerekes, when introduced to attractive women at parties, usually gave his profession as “monetary distribution agent”.

 

This was a fancy way of saying “thief”, which is precisely what he was. However, one generally doesn’t say that to people at parties, especially when one is trying to get into their pants.

 

Of course, Charles had other reasons not to state his real profession—he wasn’t very good at it, for one. For example, just last week, while robbing a bank in Kennesaw, he’d miscalculated the night watchman’s schedule, and had been spotted at the very beginning of the job. He’d been forced to run with what little money he had already gotten, which turned out to be only five thousand dollars. Even worse, the bank had turned out to be yakuza owned, and so soon he was on the run not only from the law, but from a group of very large, menacing men, most of whom had chopped off their own pinky fingers at some point or another, and were thus eager to share the experience.

 

Charles had made the very sane decision to leave Kennesaw for Terra, but had blown most of his haul doing this, and so now was in dire straits. Lacking the resources for a big job, and not wanting to draw to much attention to himself, he was now reduced to petty stick-ups.

 

Such as the young couple he was presently holding at gunpoint. The pair stared at Charles in shock, since they, like many young people, thought of crime as something that happened to other people, usually in other cities, or even landmasses.

 

“Just hand me the money,” Charles explained, in a slow, calm voice. “There’s no need to try anything heroic.”

 

That was when the arrow shot past, inches away from his face, and buried itself in the wall behind him. “There’s ALWAYS a need to try something heroic!” shouted a clear, high female voice. Charles turned.

 

She stood there, silhouetted in the lamplight. She wasn’t very tall, and looked to be quite young. She wore a yellow jumpsuit, with a blue cowl with cat’s ears, her long black hair flowing behind her. A bow was in her hand, arrows held in a quiver tied around her waist.

 

Charles gulped. He was definitely not in any condition to take on a superhero.

 

The girl glanced quickly at the couple. “Just get away! I’ll take care of this crook. There’s no way the likes of him can stand up to the claws of Hellcat—and SON OF SATAN!”

 

As the couple took her up on her advice, the apparent Hellcat looked eagerly to her side. After roughly a minute, she hissed loudly. “Son of Satan! Don’t leave me hanging here…!”

 

A loud groan emanated from the shadows. “Do I have to do this?”

 

Hellcat pouted in a rather sulky fashion. “Yes!”

 

With a long sigh, Son of Satan slouched into view. He was a young man, clad in a rather archaic red kimono that someone had seen fit to scrawl a rather crude pentagram on. He wore no shoes, which was odd—he also had dog-ears, which was odder. Silky white hair hung down to his waist while a samurai sword hung at his side. He regarded Charles with a look that combined resignation with sheer boredom. “I am Son of Satan,” he announced in a dull monotone. “Tremble, before my wrath, evildoer.”

 

Hellcat glanced at him in a reproaching manner. “You could at least put some feeling into it.”

 

Son of Satan rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. “Look, Karen, I just think this really stupid, is all…”

 

The girl’s eyes went wide. “HEY! We talked about this! It’s Hellcat! I have a secret identity to protect!”

 

“Oh, no!” Son of Satan shouted in mock horror. “Now he knows your one of the million or so girls in Terra called Karen! Whatever shall we do?”

 

“Junichiro…” snarled Karen—then brought her free hand up to her face in shock. “I meant, Son of Satan…”

 

Charles felt a sudden sense of relief.

 

“Oh, wow, you’re really stickin’ with this ‘no names mentioned’ rule of yours,” laughed Junichiro. “Man, why’d I ever agree to this…?” He began to walk away.

 

“Hey! Don’t you walk out on me!” shouted Karen. “I’ll remind you who’s got the upper hand here!”

 

“Right, right…” muttered Junichiro, walking away.

 

“Umm, excuse me…” interjected Charles.

 

“Oh you keep out of this!” Karen stated forcibly. “You’re not worried, Junichiro? Not worried in the slightest that I’ll say, si—”

 

At that moment, Charles fired his pistol in the air. “I’d just like to say,” he began calmly, as he pointed the pistol at them, “That I really seem to have the tactical advantage here. After all, I’m a man with a gun, while you’re a girl with a bow, and a freak with a sword.” He smiled at them. “So please hand over all your money.”

 

“That’s what you think!” shouted Karen. With surprising speed and grace, she fit an arrow to her bow, and released it. The arrow sped quickly over Charles’s shoulder, and buried itself in the wall behind him.

 

Charles’s smile turned into a grin. “Missed.”

 

It was at precisely that moment that the wall behind him exploded, tossing him to the ground, and causing his gun to fall out of his hand and skid away.

 

“Umm, did I do that?” Karen asked quietly in a tone not unlike that of Jaleel White’s.

 

Junichiro gave a slight nod. “Yep.”

 

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Finally, Karen coughed slightly. “Oops.”

 

Junichiro glanced at her oddly. “That sort of thing never used to bother you.”

 

“I never used to worry about getting sued.”

 

Junichiro gave an understanding nod. “Right. Lawyers. You mentioned them once…” He scratched his chin. “Don’t they suck blood, or somethin’?”

 

Karen blinked, then thought it over. “More or less.”

 

While the pair chatted, Charles crept forward to grab his gun.

 

Unfortunately for him, Junichiro noticed him.

 

In the amount of time it takes a man to blink then cough, Charles found himself being hoisted into the air, by a very angry would-be superhero. “You don’t learn, do you, creep?”

 

Charles gulped. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Junichiro had claws. And fangs. And a rather unpleasant glint in his eyes. “PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME—I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!”

 

Junichiro laughed darkly. “Oh, yeah, like you’re not goin’ to just turn around and try to get us some other way if I let you go…”

 

“Son of Satan!” chirped Karen disapprovingly. “You can’t kill him!”

 

Charles sniffled. Listen to the girl, listen to the girl, god, oh god, listen to the girl…

 

Junichiro gave a snort. “It’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

 

Karen raised a finger, and started to admonish him. “Superheroes can’t kill people. Not unless the villain has killed somebody, and then they have to make it happen by accident.”

 

Junichiro stared at her, puzzled. “How can you do that?”

 

“Well, like, you fight on a mountainside, and they pull out a super weapon to beat your weapon, only they misjudge how powerful it is, and the mountainside collapses, burying them in rubble.” Karen explained helpfully.

 

Junichiro scratched his head. “That seems like a pretty complicated way a handling things…”

 

A blissful smile appeared on Karen’s face. “It’s the way of the superhero, who strongly respects life enough to bludgeon people into unconsciousness, instead of simply killing them.”

 

Junichiro narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

 

Karen glared at him. “Just take care of the bad guy!”

 

Junichiro gave a hasty nod. “Sure thing.” He raised his fist, and drew back his arm in preparation for a terrific uppercut.

 

“Hang him up on the fire escape!” shouted Karen. “The one near the bakery!”

 

Junichiro sighed, then jogged over to fire escape, and leaped up onto it. He glanced at Charles. “You trust this suit?”

 

Charles gulped. “It’s hand-tailored.”

 

Junichiro nodded. “Good.” He hung Charles up on the side of the fire escape, using the jacket as a snag. “Hope you trust your tailor.” He leapt away.

 

Karen gave a triumphant grin as he landed before her. “Well, now we just go to a phone booth, and inform the police, and then—this looks like another job well done by—HELLCAT and SON OF SATAN!”

 

Junichiro gave a slight cough. “You know—this the first time we did this.”

 

Karen visibly deflated. “Umm—right.”

 

The pair walked off together.

 

“And it wasn’t that well done,” added Junichiro.

 

“Shut up, already!” cried Karen.

 

*************

 

 

 

Newest defenders

Hellcat and Son of Satan

 

….please don’t sue me Marvel or Rumiko Takahashi. :). I acknowledge that these characters are not mine and do not own them i’m just making use of them in a work of fiction.

 

Please drop some feedback!

The Defenders Snippet: Return of the Emissaries of Evil

I’m a big fan of the “after credits” scenes in movies. As a result of that I spend a lot of time editing and trying to create awesome cliffhangers in writing. This scene is actually the end of the third chapter of “The Defenders” story based on Jameson Smith and his friends. Take a read and drop me some feedback below!

 

The first appearance of the #EmissariesOfEvil on the blog can be found here

The Emissaries of Evil

****

 

The Emissaries of Evil made their way slowly to Elihas Starr’s stateroom.

“Well guys,” said Jim, “I’m really glad you got me my spare power cell…”

“Shut up,” said Ray.

 

Egghead had to pay their bail (the whole affair would almost certainly never reach trial due to a lack of witnesses—at least witnesses who’d be willing to come forward). That would put their boss in a bad mood, and when Mr. Starr was in a bad mood, he made certain *you* were in a bad mood. Ray was just having his prematurely.

 

*That Dr. Strange and his flunkies will pay for this,*  he thought. *I swear it.* “We’re here boss,” he announced as they entered Egghead’s office.

“Come in, come in,” said a calm, slightly jovial voice.

Ray stopped in his tracks. That wasn’t Mr. Starr.

For a start, the voice was too high.

Also, it was a bit too happy.
And then, his boss had never seemed that fond of red.

The figure leaning back in Egghead’s chair was clad in a voluminous red cloak, ending in a cowl that completely obscured its face. A half-finished glass of brandy was in its left hand, undoubtedly poured from the bottle Mr. Starr kept on his desk. On the desk’s ashtray, the remains of a cigar rested.

“Gentlemen,” said the mystery man, a touch amused. “Pleased to meet you.”  He popped open a box. “Cigars? They’re quite good.”

“Sure, I—” began Jim stepping forward.

Ray motioned him to stop. “Who are you? What happened to Mr. Starr?”

The man shook his head. “Questions, questions, always questions,” he muttered. “No time to appreciate the finer things.” He shut the box. “To answer your queries, I am called the Crimson Cowl. As to your employer—we were discussing matters and he couldn’t see things my way.” The Crimson Cowl spread his red-gloved hands. “You see, I happen to run my own team of super-criminals. Mine’s the *Masters* of Evil, and well, I didn’t appreciate the similarities between the names.” He took a sip of brandy. “I thought it might cause confusion. Or even lead to all sorts of unfortunate mixups. Mr. Starr didn’t quite agree with me, lost his temper, and fell to pieces.”

“Pieces?” said Jim, nervously.

“Yep—pieces. Arms, legs, internal organs—I’d never seen a man strewn about so.” He
opened a mini fridge by the desk. “His head’s right here, if you want to see it…”

“You killed him,” whispered Bruce.

The Crimson Cowl shrugged. “Well—yes.” He sighed. “We’re criminal masterminds. These things happen.” He shut the fridge. “Now, I’m willing to offer some of you employment with my agency. Personally, I think you’ll love it—Starr was using you as glorified enforcers. Stick with me, and I’ll have you doing the real supervillainy.” He leaned further back in his chair. “I’m talking earth-shattering stuff here…”

“YOU BASTARD!” screamed Bruce, charging forwards buzz saws blaring. This was a move he would regret the rest of his life, which was the five seconds it took for the sickle to reach his neck.

“Unfortunate,” murmured Crimson Cowl, taking another sip of brandy. “Dispose of the rest.”

Ray and Ken turned around immediately. In Ken’s case this was to take a blast of
energy straight to the head.
In Ray’s it was a giant boomerang to the mid-section.

Jim immediately fell to his knees. “I-I’ll work for you!” He gulped. “You could use a guy with radiation powers! I know you could!”

The Crimson Cowl rose slowly, and walked towards Jim, regarding him quietly. Reaching the cowering supervillain, he leaned forward. “Would you believe,” he stated calmly, “that I turned down one just last week?” Then with one sudden motion, he snapped Cobalt Man’s neck.

The Crimson Cowl walked back to the desk, refilled his glass, and lit himself another cigar. As he puffed contentedly, three figures stepped out of the shadows—two women, and one man. One of the women spoke. “We should not stay here. It is unwise to do so.”

The Crimson Cowl chuckled. “Honestly. Don’t you know my personal creed?” He sipped the brandy. “One should always enjoy a good glass of spirits, and a fine cigar.” He took another long puff. “Ahh. Nothing burns like a Havana…”

 

***

 

 

 

Don’t forget to leave comments below.

 

 

Snippet from Chapter 3 of “The Defenders”

Strange

The Defenders is the new title of my Dr. Strange alternate universe tale I’m working on. It was formerly known as Defending, but as I’ve gone through some changes in the writing process I think this fits a bit more.  Hope you guys enjoy this excerpt and please leave some feedback below!

 

**********

Natalie Thomas was, despite her best efforts, not happy.

“Oh, God,” said Yvonne, putting down her bagel. “I am stuffed!” She pushed her plate towards Sarah. “Here Sarah, you finish it.”

Sarah pushed it away. “Oh, I’m also stuffed. Here you try. I don’t know if you’re eating enough these days…”

Natalie sighed. *I am being paid for this,* she reminded herself. Sometimes, she didn’t know whether to regard the sudden crime wave in Tokyo (and Nerima in particular) as a blessing or a curse. It had increased her bodyguard services by 63%, but—well, guarding Sarah and Yvonne meant watching the eternal struggle for dominance between the two—a struggle to claim the position of “Most Desired Girl at Friarwood High”. The position tended to cycle between the two, occasionally falling on some other girl at the school. Natalie found it very tiresome. Sometimes she wished that a more—obviously desirable girl existed to settle the matter. She often thought that if Ashley didn’t have such a grim attitude—and well, hadn’t been a cripple—she’d have claimed the position in a heartbeat. *And the profits I could rake in that way…* Natalie thought cheerfully. She shook her head. She might as well wish that Ashley were the one who had to practice martial arts. Reality wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“I’m telling you, my appetite was ruined by that monster attack,” stated Yvonne. “Why I’m still recovering from the trauma.”

Sarah snorted. “Come on, Yvonne. You’ve worn that story out.” She smiled. “I don’t think it even happened.”

“It did too!” shouted Yvonne. “And I was saved by a vampire superhero!”

Natalie shut her eyes. If she weren’t hearing this conversation she’d have a hard time believing it was happening. Actually, she was still having a hard time believing that.

But she also had a hard time believing that a man named “Count Nefaria” had tried to use the Tokyo Tower as the transmitter for his Euthanoelectro Ray last week, and that had also apparently happened.

“Oh, like any superhero would bother saving a girl like you…” muttered Sarah.

“What does that mean?” asked Yvonne in offended tones.

“I think we both know what I mean,” said Sarah maliciously.

“Like you can judge!” Yvonne retorted. “I mean, all the boys, hanging around
you all the time, bumping into you, calling your name…”

“Sarah!” came a harsh voice.

“Just like that!” said Yvonne.

“Sarah…” came another voice, a ghastly whisper.

“And that one too!” she noted. She smiled at the stricken Sarah. “Ha! Dumbfounded you, didn’t I? I can tell by that shocked expression on your face…”

Sarah pointed over Yvonne’s shoulder. Yvonne turned around. “Oh. I see.” She gulped.

Standing in the doorway were two hideous, almost broken forms. The first was a black-haired man wearing a golden devil mask, though a close examination suggested the mask was almost fused with his head. His arms were covered in bulging muscle, and ended in golden clawed gloves. While his form seemed merely muscular at first glance, the longer you looked at it the more—unnatural it seemed, all the mass and sinew seeming to ripple unsteadily. But the worst thing was the pentagram on his chest. It was dark black, and it seemed to just absorb and bend all the light that got near it. The longer you looked at it the worse it got.

The second figure was more openly hideous, though he lacked his companion’s subtle horrors. He was an emaciated brown-haired man, who seemed to have been withered and mummified, his skin having the greyish color of a preserved corpse. A pair of mechanical hooks functioned for hands, while an eye patch covered his right eye.

“Sarah!” said the first figure. “I claim you now, I, Master Pandemonium, the most
amazing being in Nerima!”
“Hey,” said the second figure. “I’m the most amazing being in Nerima, so I’m getting Sarah.”

“Are not!” said Master Pandemonium taking a swing at his associate.

“Am too!” said the second figure, turning immaterial and causing Pandemonium’s blow to pass right through him, instead smashing a large hole in the wall.

“Are not!” said Master Pandemonium. “How can you be more amazing than I am? You haven’t even said your name yet.”

“Oh, right. I’m Harry…”

“Your supervillain name, moron!”

Harry slapped his forehead—an act that was painful to watch as the metal  hook collided with shriveled flesh. “That’s right.” He spread his arms and laughed sinisterly. “I am the Ghost!”

“That name sucks!” cried Pandemonium.

“Does not!” shouted the Ghost, blasting an ether ray at him.

“Does too!” shouted Pandemonium, as the star in his chest seemingly absorbed
the energy.

“Oh, like yours is better Dan!”

Natalie blinked, and stepped forward.  “Harry…? Dan…?”

The pair shuddered. “Natalie?” squeaked Dan.

“What happened to you two?” she asked, slightly fearful despite her efforts to remain calm.

“Oh, we just sold our souls,” answered Harry cheerfully. “We’re soldiers in the army of Hell now.”

“Shut up!” cried Dan, releasing a blast of hellfire.

Harry turned immaterial again, causing the blast to incinerate the table behind him. “No, you shut up!”

“No, you!” shouted Dan. He pouted. “Why are you trying to take Sarah from me? You know I love her!”

“Hey!” said Harry fiercely. “I should be asking you that!” Harry gestured broadly at the young women. “How about you just take Yvonne instead? She’s pretty close to Sarah…”
“Would you take Yvonne instead?” asked Dan.

“Of course not,” said Harry. “I’m cooler than you, ’cause I’ve got the eye patch.”

Natalie readied herself. From the casual displays of power the pair were showing she doubted she could do much, but she could probably distract them for a moment, and then slip away herself. She glanced at Yvonne and Sarah. “When I say go—go.”

Dan was shaking his fist at Harry. “For the last time, I’m getting Sarah…”

“That’s what you think!” a voice shouted out. A young man in Buddhist robes leaped into the shop. With one dazzling spin of a long cane he yanked Harry to his feet, and then rolled in front of Natalie. “No maiden need fear evil on the watch of—Mark, the Devil-Slayer!” He
turned to Natalie. “Quickly! Escape! I’ll hold them off!”

Natalie glared at him. “How? Thanks to you, they’re pretty focused on us right now and they’re blocking the exit…”

Mark coughed nervously. “Oh. Right.” He blinked. “Well, let’s work something out…”
Suddenly he knocked all three of the young women to the ground. A blast of energy
knocked out the wall behind them. “There. See. An alternate escape route. I told you I’d
take care of things.”

Natalie glared at him as she ran out the hole into the back alley. She’d heard about superheroes, of course, but somehow Mr. Devil-Slayer did not strike her as one of the top members of the business.

 

***

After you’re done reading, please take the time to leave comments below! Thanks! Any and all feedback is required to keep this story alive and continue the creative process!

KunoichiJen

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