Posts Tagged ‘ #DrStrange ’

#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

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#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!

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Follow on Twitter!

http://www.twitter.com/Inthemixshoom

 

Tea with Queen + J

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follow on twitter!

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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!

Future blogging schedule, short excerpt, and idealistic thoughts!

Hey all, welcome back to An Insomniac’s Dreams!

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted so I’ve decided to make this update as action packed as I could. So, let me get started by posting the upcoming blogging schedule.

07/19 – Sports related blog.
07/20 – Something for my big sister’s birthday.
07/22 – MMP promotion
07/24 – Original piece
07/25 – Original piece
07/26 – Music post.
07/27 – Audio blog

So, that’s 1,2,3, – 7! Yes, SEVEN blog posts on the way in the near future! I’ve already gotten 3 of them prepared so I really look forward to seeing what you guys think of things.

Also, very recently I had a birthday. Birthday swag

Sure, I don’t look very enthused..but off of 3 hours of sleep eh, who could blame me? Had a pretty solid day on that evening with my sister’s taking me out to eat and another friend treating me to the movies. Weekend wasn’t what I expected but, I finally got to see Maleficent and make a trip to the arcade with one of my good buddies! I also obtained Mario Kart 8! so, a lot of Luigi DEATH STARE has been going on.

Before I get to the excerpt, I’d like to make a formal request of my readers and all future readers as I’ve had an ideal in my head for a while I’d like to share it with you folks. For the longest time I’ve always envisioned this blog becoming something more than a release for all my creative energy each time something in my life has frustrated me or dampened my spirits. Now that I’ve had it around for a bit longer and developed a bit more of an identity I’ve begun to expect more. I would really appreciate it you guys began to help me turn this little humble blog into a bustling community of writers, readers, and creative people in general. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering how you can help me build this community…well for starters you can help me out by being a bit more active in the comments. Share your thoughts with other readers and try to interact with them more when you agree or disagree with their thoughts. Make new friends and in a lot of cases follow their blogs as well. I’ve had lots of consistent commentary from several very talented and awesome folk. I’d love to see you guys support them as well so we can build a unique chain of give and take all the while developing something extraordinary and uplifting! So, if you agree with this chain of thought and want to help please help me out by following and adding these great folks to your blog read as well.

 

Sammus– Super dope music and updates on the career of one of my favorite artists.

 

Nike Writes– Introspective, timeless, and awe inspiring writing from one of my mentors. 🙂

 

Dyscyplnynary Action– Reviews of music, life, and general awesomeness.

 

Put a Wedge In It- Relationship coaching, writing, and introspective from another of my writing mentors.

Chanice Nykole– Another one of my talented friends. She offers meal plans, positive messages, and can SANG!

In The Mix With Shoom- Exclusive music, interviews, and material from talented podcast host Shoom Isaacs. Someone I’ve become a very big fan of lately.

The Superficial Queen– One of my favorite writers who’s work will always evoke some sort of emotion from you. Check her out!

 

The Houndztooth.com– Sports blog that covers one of the most rabid fanbases in all of sports.

New Mommy New Life Style– Blog home of a fairly new writer friend of mine who I think has the potential to really carve out a special place here in our world!

 

Eddie Lamar Sharpe Jr– Home to one of the writer’s I respect most on the web. Very introspective and very talented author on the rise.

 

Mocha Memoirs Press– Home to erotic fiction and some of the most talented writers I’ve ever interacted with!

It’s actually MMP’s birthday month, here are some unique details on what’s to come!SaleBanner2014

Mocha Memoirs Press began in 2001, but reopened our doors in July 2010 with the hope of spotlighting fantastic fiction in the genres of science fiction, horror, fantasy, and romance. Each year we do something fun for our birthday, and this year will be nodifferent.

Since we’re giving gifts, it’s Christmas in July! What’s in our holiday sack?

Gift #1-New fiction! Four new titles will launch our TOIL, TROUBLE, AND TEMPTATION line.

Gift #2- MMP GIFT bag. It will include the following:

  1. A sample of our books (both horror anthologies, a science fiction title, two erotic romance titles, and a fantasy title).
  2. A MMP tee-shirt.
  3. A MMP journal to write down your own inspiring ideas.
  4. Starbucks® coffee
  5. Other surprise goodies.
  6. All will be contained in a MMP cloth bag.

(You have to sign up for the MMP Newsletter to enter. More details to follow on our blog and our Facebook group).

Gift #3-Black Friday sale in the summer-All Christmas and holiday stories are .99!

Gift #4-Sizzling Deals for HOT summer nights-All erotic romance titles are $2.99 or LESS!

Gift #5-Select science fiction, fantasy, and horror titles are $1.00 or 0.99.

 

 

There’s a few more writer/blogger folk I’d like to promote, but this is all I could squeeze in for now. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, here’s an excerpt from a piece I’m currently revising and preparing to share with the world. I hope you all enjoy and PLEASE leave me some commentary after you finish reading!

 

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

 

The Emissaries of Evil were busily explaining their employer’s insurance policy to a client.

 

Of course as the Emissaries of Evil were criminals, the insurance policy they were selling was far better than one you’d receive from a legitimate company. When a criminal sells you an insurance policy it is absolutely certain that the disaster he’s selling it for will occur if you don’t pay.

 

The Emissaries of Evil were stressing this point.

 

“You know,” said Ray, the group’s field leader, “Egghead doesn’t like to be let down…”

 

“I’m very sorry sir,” muttered the storekeeper.

 

“With the Emissaries of Evil, you don’t get sorry,” whispered Ken. “What you get is hospital bills if we don’t get paid.”

 

“Do you want a demonstration?” asked Bruce, the most violent of the four enforcers.

 

“Yeah, ’cause we can do that!” said Jim, his voice subtly muffled by his faceplate.

 

“See?” laughed Ray. A man did not become an enforcer at his young age without a damn terrifying laugh.

 

“The general opinion in this room is you should pay up…”

 

The shopkeeper was not a brave man, but he considered that a better option than being a brave corpse. He began to get them the money. That was when the whistling started. It was shrill, slightly off-key, and had a quality that caused your teeth to chatter in your skull. Ray glanced at the others. Criminals are, as a rule, rather uneasy at having a protection shakedown being observed, as witnesses rarely grasp the subtle nuances of the deal.

 

“Ken. Bruce. Go outside. See who it is.”

 

The pair nodded and headed out.

 

Jim glanced at Ray, clearly offended. “How come you always send them out first?”

 

Ray froze for a second. This would take some thought. “Because you’re the only one I trust to guard me.”

 

“Oh. Thanks, Ray!”

 

Ray breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Bruce returned. “Umm, guys—you should see this….” They followed him out.

 

There, on the side of a building, a young man in a red cape stood whistling.

 

This was far more disconcerting than it sounded, as he was quite literally standing on the side of the building, as if it were the ground, while gravity failed to have the least effect on him. The Emissaries stared at him awhile. Finally, Ray coughed. “Um—excuse me—what are you doing…?”

 

The young man turned to look at him. His face was astonishingly pale, and rather strikingly ugly. He shrugged with almost suspicious casualness. “I’m out for a walk.”

 

Ray glanced away. The longer you looked at the young man, the more you got the horrible feeling that you were the one in defiance of the laws of physics. “On the side of a building?” asked Ray forcefully. This resulted in another shrug. “It’s the only way to beat the smog, really.” The boy gave a mild laugh. “Can you believe they’re selling air now? I mean—air. Sad, isn’t it?”

 

Jim scratched his head—or tried to, the large metal helmet getting in the way. “Are you a superhero?”

 

The young man snapped his fingers in apparent frustration. “Damn. You had to ask that question.” He sighed. “Yes. Yes. I am.” And with that he leapt off from the wall, floating down with eerie grace. He glanced at the Emissaries confidently. “So I guess now comes the part with all the screaming, and the yelling, and the cries of mercy, and the passing out?” He looked around distractedly. “Could you promise not bleed on me too much? I’m finding the dry cleaning bills horrible.”

 

Ray stared at him. “Do you realize who we are, idiot?”

 

His opponent scratched his chin in thought. “An all-male Judy Garland impersonation group that’s turned to evil?”

 

Ray frowned. “No!”

 

“Oh,” said the superhero in resignation. “Liza impersonators, then?”

 

“NO!” shouted Ray, offended.

 

Now he seemed puzzled. “Don’t tell me you’re not all male?”

 

It was at that point that Bruce lost his temper. “We are the Emissaries of Evil, you fool!”

 

“Gosh,” laughed the hero bashfully. “That was going to be my next guess! Boy, I’m bad at these things…”

 

“Shut up!” shouted Bruce. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with! Well, we will tell you!”

 

The young man nodded. “Right, right. And then we’ll get on to the part with all the screaming, and the yelling, and the cries of mercy, and the passing out…”

 

Bruce raised his hands, revealing gauntlets with buzzsaws built into them. “I am the Gladiator! Master warrior, and assassin!”

 

“Because power tools just scream ancient Roman ritual warrior…” muttered the young man.

 

“Quiet!” screamed Bruce.

 

Ken threw off his cloak, and flexed his muscles, revealing the greyish bodysuit underneath it. “And I am— Rhino! I have the strength and the charging power—of a rhino!”

 

Ray summoned a solar flare at the tips of his fingertips. “I am their leader, Solarr—the solar-powered man!”

 

Jim stepped forward, and started up his suit’s power cells. An eerie blue glow covered him. “And I am Cobalt Man. The—well, cobalt powered man…”

 

The man nodded. “Took you a while to come up with those names, didn’t it? I bet you strained your minds and stayed up the entire night, trying to think of something that conveyed the awesome spectacle of might that is you…”

 

Ray snarled. “Listen you—laugh all you want…you’re outnumbered four to one!”

 

The young man smiled slightly. “But don’t you want to know who I am…?” He spread his hands, and waved them menacingly. “I am… DR. STRANGE!” There was a peal of thunder, which was quite unusual when you considered that there were no clouds out at the moment. “Master of the Five Elements! Wielder of mystic forces beyond the mortal ken! Guy who can talk in a really florid manner, and use lots of adjectives!” Dr. Strange stared at them forcefully. “Can you say these things as well? Can you even understand them?” He smiled. “Please respond. We’d be delighted to hear from you.”

 

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

 

So, what’d you guys think? I know it’s a bit unpolished but, this is just a small segment of what I’m working on. Leave comments below and thanks all!

MESCTV

Life Is MESC

msherringsays

The life of a middle school language arts teacher. Not to be taken to seriously. Kapeesh?

H I P L O O T

#thelootedlife

KunoichiJen

When You Give a Ninja a Blog...