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Podcast Appearance

Hey, quick update as I made a recent appearance on a podcast to talk about a few things I enjoy. You guys can listen below, and please leave me some feedback!

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The “Talk”.

Hey all. Just a quick peek at something I’ve been working on when I’m not slaving at Home Depot. Please give a read and enjoy when you can.

***
“Now, son,” began Tony Smith, glancing around the room awkwardly.

 

Jameson stared at him for a moment. “Yes—Dad.”

“Jameson—my son—the time has come—” Tony coughed nervously, and looked up at the ceiling, before beginning again. “Jameson—your mother and I have noticed some—changes in your lifestyle.” He bit his lip, and then stared at his feet. “For example—well, like—”

 

“You have friends,” noted Martha Smith bluntly.

 

“—Which is a good thing,” appended Tony hastily. “A very good thing. In some ways. However, the sheer—amount of changes in your lifestyle causes us to wonder if you have had—certain other changes. Now—Jameson—at your age, change is normal. But sometimes—some changes indicate—things.” Toshiro looked his son in the eyes, desperation obvious on his face. “You do get what I mean, don’t you?”

Jameson blinked. “I believe so, and trust me—there’s no need to talk to me about puberty. I’ve experienced its deforming touch.”

Tony stared at his son quietly for a moment, then glanced at his chuckling wife. “This isn’t funny, Martha.”

Martha snorted. “You’re right—it’s actually hilarious.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you’re the one who wanted to have this talk…”

“Yeah, yeah…” said Martha in forced repentance. “I would have been just as happy not to have this talk.”

“I know, I know.”

“In fact, if you’re going to act like this, I’ll just leave, and we won’t have the talk.”

“No, no—I’m cool.”

“So can we get back to it?”

“Go ahead. No one’s stopping you.” The couple suddenly winced at the sound of a rap on the table. They glanced up at their son, who nervously glanced at his hand, which was resting uneasily atop the tabletop.

“Flies,” said Jameson apologetically.

Tony coughed, then looked earnestly at his son. “Now, Jameson—are—have you ever—do you—”

Martha groaned to herself, then turned to Jameson. “Yo, son. Are you downing any reds?”

Jameson blinked. “Say what?”

“Doing any snow? Horse? Weed? Crystal? Bennies? Downers? Acid? Angel Dust? Anything like that at all?”

Jameson’s hand slapped several times against the table. “Boy, lot of pesky insects around, aren’t there?”

Martha frowned. “Not really. Now, answer the question?”

Jameson laughed nervously. “Ahh, yes. The question. The important question.” He coughed. “Could I—get a translation? A version of it that makes sense?”

“Are you doing drugs?” said Martha bluntly.

“No,” answered Jameson with a reassured nod.

“Because if you are, we don’t necessarily look down on that,” she finished.

“What?” said Jameson blankly, his clenched fist nervously slamming into the table.

“I think what your mother’s trying to say is that she and I feel that certain substances declared dangerous by the government have legitimate recreational uses,” explained Tony.

“Damn straight,” agreed Martha. “And as long as you use them responsibly and in moderation, we have nothing against you using those substances,” continued Tony.

“Also, make sure you’re dealing with reputable dealers,” added Martha. “Some of these guys are rip­off artists, and others are just animals.”

Jameson nodded, nervously, rubbing his hand. “It’s—nice to know you’re concerned.” He began to knock on the table again.

Martha pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Actually, I’ve got a list of ones you can trust with me…”

Jameson began to inch his chair away. “I’m really not interested.” He smiled broadly. “Thanks for the offer.” He swatted the table. “You sure?” his mother asked. “Because I can assure you these are men and women you can trust. Actually, some might be willing to give you a discount if you mention my name…”

Jameson’s rapping took on a frantic edge. “I’m still going to pass, mom.” “I think we should respect Jameson’s wishes on this one,” said Toshiro quietly.

Martha frowned. “But Tony! You know I don’t want my baby burning out his soul and endangering his health with unsafe, inferior products!”

Tony took a deep breath. “I knew this was going to wind up like this…” “Oh, like your ‘touchy­feely’ approach was getting us anywhere.”

Martha glared at her husband. “We could have been talking for the next seven years the rate you were going.”

Quick Action Scene

So, it’s raining outside and I stopped to work on a scene before I headed to work. Hope you all enjoy!

*******

Visible anger and contempt played over Akiko’s features.

“What do YOU know about Lord Forsythe?  You are but NOTHING to him!

He–”

A faint sound had cut through the din of the air conditioning and the dull humming of the machines in the room. It sounded like gravel being stepped on, or popping corn.

Or submachinegun fire.

“They’re here,” Akiko said, returning to a state of calm.

Bullet ricochets whined off steel from just outside. Garbled screams and louder weapons fire drowned out every other noise completely.

James rose swiftly from his seat, brow creased. He rushed to the door and yanked it open to see three men in black reloading from the opposite end of the corridor. They spotted James as he dove for the overturned desk.

“Shit, there’s someone else in there,” James heard one curse. “There were only supposed to be three guards–”

Lyle was lying face down on the floor, and blood was staining his shirt.

One of the guards had slumped over the chair, while the other was leaning against the wall, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. A large red smear, stark against the white of the walls, was spread behind his hair. James fought down an urge to gag.

He shoved Lyle’s body aside and found what he was looking for.

“WHO GIVES A FUCK!?” came the roar from another of the men.  “He’s–”

“Hey, shitheads.”

James was standing in full view behind the desk.  His cigarette was lit.

In his hands he held a cocked and ready Ingram Mac-10.

“Not exactly standard issue,” he drawled, blowing out a plume of smoke from between his pressed lips. “But it works.”

James’s first volley hit one of the men below the knees, making the man fall screaming to the ground. After a moment’s shock however, the other two quickly brought their weapons to bear and began firing.  Even the fellow on the floor wasn’t completely out of commission– from his place, he tried his best to aim at James and managed to get a few bursts out, forcing James to retreat.

“Fuckers’re pros,” James muttered under his breath, forcing the door closed behind him.  He looked in Akiko’s direction as he changed his weapon’s clip.  “Friends of yours?”

New Snippet

Hey guys, I’m back to writing again. School is out and looks like work may lighten up for a bit so I’ll be able to share a bit more of what’s been going on in my mind.

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

Whether it the dead of night or the calm of morning, it didn’t matter much to Icy. Morals and scruples became meaningless when you allow yourself to truly attempt and justify their continued use.  In the end, it boiled down to the desire and emotion that one held on to, be it a fleeting moment, or the span of a lifetime.  Those who held on to their morals often operated in the light of the morn, while the opposition dwelled within the refined shadow of evening.

Icy preferred neither and both at once.  She was a creature of time, not recognizing any supreme value in either day or night.

Her time was now.

A deliberate caution hindered somewhat by protesting muscles, Alice “Icy” Rodgers shifted her arm from the warmth of the expansive chest of Jordan Woodson, reaching for the cold grip of her P .38 handgun she’d kept hidden underneath her purse nearby.

“So soon?” a gruff voice queried.

Her face did not betray the surprise she felt, she turned her vision to the jaded, demanding eyes of the Demon.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

A light accusation, considering the severity of the situation.

“You should know better than that,” he replied, his tone quite a bit lighter than Icy knew it should be.

“We finally stopped only twenty minutes ago.  It’s going to be sunrise soon.”  In the darkness of Woodson’s bedroom, Alice’s fine-honed vision caught the moonlight confessing the position of her gun, in Jordan’s hand. His grip was light, but she could tell his every sinew was taught, waiting for her movement to be the slightest bit unfavorable to him.

“Looks like the Riot wore you out.  Now you know why I don’t dance.  This was kind of interesting when Nells attempted it on me.”

Icy couldn’t help her smile, then.  The story of the wannabe toppler of Jordan Woodson, Nells was quite the tale among his lieutenants. What wasn’t quite clear was how she was caught.  What was crystal clear was how she had paid for her treachery.

“You’d put me in the same room as her?” Alice asked with indignance.

“You put yourself there, Icy.  I’m just finally lettin’ you see that.”  He stifled a yawn, a movement that flustered Alice, despite herself.  “Why don’t you get some sleep, darlin’?  I’m gonna start breakfast.”

He rose without another word, stopping only to throw on a lavender robe and don some fuzzy slippers.  Alice’s patience broke in those moments of silence.

“What do you mean?” They were quiet words, but well-reinforced with a deadly venom.

“If you have to ask, you’ll never know.  It’s good to see you still have ambition; it means that the guvs didn’t get to you.”

Once his presence was gone, Alice allowed herself to wrap the sleeping bag around her naked body and shiver.  She was very aware that she wasn’t cold, and more aware that Woodson was perhaps the sickest, craftiest man she had ever come across, and attempted to cross.  Questions began spinning in her head about the past, about the day the Demon was taken down, but the most prominent question that played with her psyche like a finely tuned harp was thus:

Why did she love that man so much more, even now?

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

MESCTV

Life Is MESC

msherringsays

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