Outstanding Fight Set-ups
Posted 29 July 2011 - 03:09 PM
MARVANOTE: Oh great Admins! I call upon your power to make it as it was before!
Posted 30 July 2011 - 09:25 AM
Heh. That was a fine set up indeed, but not exactly meant for this thread. I wish to make it onto this thread someday, but not with that one. Thanks anyways.
MARVANOTE: Oh great Admins! I call upon your power to make it as it was before!
I call credit for the idea.
Posted 05 August 2011 - 02:54 PM
Devil Monkey vs Jesus Christ (The Godyssey) by Buzz Line
He came in many forms, went by many names, and had many calling cards. Too many for most to keep up with. Most didn't even bother, pushing him out of place and out of mind, due to sheer unbelief, denial or faith in protection from him. It did little good though. The unbelievers, they didn't have to believe it was the devil that stalked them. They just needed to know it was bad. To those in denial, who just believed it to be some kind of undocumented animal, it was the worst thing to ever come out of nature. To the faithful, their souls would know the joy of paradise, but their bodies would know the pain of death because sin still needed punishment, repentance or not.
Standing in the valley of the apocalypse however was one man who had all of the devil's tricks memorized, not that he really needed to. He could see right through them all even with his eyelids down, but couldn't help but remember. To the short lived, the devil's powers seemed unlimited. To the everlasting, he seemed like a tv show in re-runs.
"I remember, our first formal meeting, son of man." the Devil addressed him. "Yes through that time in the wilderness, the temptations." Jesus answered. "Make food from stones, as if I would be worried about a temporary body I could sustain eternally with no more than my will if I chose. Call the angels who are beneath me? You'd offer me all the kingdoms under the sun, even though they are already mine." "No, you're wrong!" The Devil snapped! "This is my world! Mine! Your father let me stay here! If I can't be in paradise I should at least have one island home in all the vastness of space!" "My father allowed you to believe so, but never declared it. And you were never content to just have Earth." Jesus said, before the scene went to a flashback.
It was the first year before AD. Year Zero or Year One depending on which historian you talked to. Jesus could tolerate the taunts of the Romans, and the Jews. They knew not what they were doing. When the 'gods' of Olympus thought to openly taunt him however, Jesus could no longer stay on his cross. His descent was swift and his punishment was swift. Still, he was not completely merciless. It made no sense why they would do such a thing. No, he would lay the true punishment on the perpetrator. "Come face me Satan!" he quietly but assertively said.
The voice of the devil was in the wind as it swirled around the son of man. "No, I will not dirty my hands on this day." the winds gathered into one place and took the form of a purple humanoid who looked suspiciously like Devil Kazuya from Tekken. "But he will face you. My greatest servant on Earth, a testament to the weakness of man! He will kill you here, the sacrifice of your life will therefore be incomplete, and man will have to live with his sin forever! Muhahahaha!" "NEVER!" Jesus defiantly yelled.
"Yeah, you won that fight pretty handily." the Devil admitted. "You were in human form. My kids were bold enough to talk to you then, I thought surely the idols of man could defeat you. Then I tried to do my empowered man thing. No I wasn't just happy to have Earth, I wanted to make man suffer! I had been a scape goat for so long, it had to be by man's hand that he was denied redemption!" The Devil ranted. "But you have laid your hands on me, and still failed." Jesus reminded him. "Yeah, you consented to that, you called me!" The Devil argued. "It was for charity." Jesus justified. "I was proving you were capable of doing good Satan."
It was now in Madison Square Garden, 2007. "Only Wrestlemania could bring you a spectacle as big as Jesus Christ vs The Devil." Jim Ross bellowed from the announcing table. "Will good overcome evil? Or will evil prevail because good is dumb?" His partner Jerry Lawler joked.
"Psh, I only agreed to donate if I lost. I was going to get Hulk Hogan's soul if I won. That goody 'train hard, eat your vitamins, say your prayers, be true to you country', you ruined it! Satan helped end global warming read the papers!" the Devil stopped to catch his breath then went on. "Its your fault people call me Satan you know, knowing damn well Satan is a choir of angels I haven't been a part of since I fell. Lucifer? You were once called Lucifer too. I was an angel! A flashlight could be a Lucifer! The Muslims think I'm some kind of Dijinni! "Even the Jews who worshiped the longest mistake me for that nothing Samael sometimes! And stealing souls, I never even got to do that even though everyone claims I do it all the time, Hulk Hogan was my chance, you ruined it! I'll never forgive that!" The Devil panted.
"But did you ever stop to think why I would still call you Satan?" Jesus asked. "Did you ever think why I would show you could still do good and prevent you from taking a soul?" The Devil scratched his chin in thought, then looked horrified. "You mean you want me to repent? You want me to become a Satan again? You want me to fly around with the Ophanim singing praises to his most high!" "It took you 2012 years to understand Satan, but its not too late." Jesus said.
"Nonononono, I won't sing the lord's praises while man still walks around with woman spreading nasty juices all over my precious planet! Get rid of man and maybe I'll come back. I've got all kinds of ideas for replacements." The Devil deviously grinned. "Man was made in the image of God, and woman in the image of man and therefore also in God's. One cannot love God without loving man!" "But the image is flawed, its like a reflection in a glass of water outside on a rainy day!" The Devil argued.
Jesus sighed. "Satan, your time is slipping away. We stand in Megiddo. If you do not repent here then the apocalypse will come. The Earth you love so much more than its inhabitants will be destroyed and you will be tossed into a river of fire, and then sufferer with all the other unrepentant angels in the bottomless pit when the flames have finished with you." The Devil thought it over, he really didn't want to spend the rest of eternity in the bottomless pit, but if he kept rebelling, that meant more human souls would likely end up in hell. Sure, it wasn't much but..."Hey Jesus, a lot of people actually think I have some sort of power over hell. Can I get that for real, and like be a hell boss?" he asked. "No." was Jesus's answer. >
Just the facts.
*Revelation reveals that there is a bottomless pit in some part of creation that imprisons great evil. Since the Devil was not banished there, this implies he may not be the greatest evil to ever exist. Dinosaur comics depict the Devil as a small time loser.
*Satan was originally a general term in Hebrew for prosecuting attorney. It was only later that the term became associated with evil. Some scholars believe Satan is actually God's lawyer and the two play good cop bad cop on the whole universe. Others believe that being a lawyer is an inherently evil profession and that the name became associated with the devil to reflect this.
*Satan does not rule Hell according to the scriptures of Abraham's religions and any time he spends there is just as much punishment for him as it is for a human soul.
*Lucifer was originally a general term for people who seemed to glow. It was only later it became a term associated mostly with the Devil.
*There are about five billions different names and physical descriptions for the Devil across many different cultures. He was once played by Julie Newmar.
*Unlike Christianity, Islam believes that the Devil is a Dijinni, those things that come out of lamps, and not a fallen angel. They also believe God will forgive him eventually.
*Mark Twain once said that the Devil needed our prayers more than anyone.
Can Rob Liefeld's version of Jesus make the Devil repent? Vote!
Posted 05 August 2011 - 02:59 PM
Posted 24 November 2011 - 01:07 PM
Flipside is a world beneath ours where dreams go to die. Imagine a world created solely for the repository of our imaginations, where the unwritten stories live alongside those never completed and every fickle being that has ever been conjured from the deep recesses of our mind walks the yellow brick roads that pave the way to the great cities of our make-believe.
Flipside is a place where you can get anything, or if you are not careful, where anything can get you. You can find ogres, dragons, superheroes, demons, knights and dead pop stars drinking alongside each other in any of the many bars, pubs and nightclubs that offer every vice imaginable.
You can only access Flipside if you wish for it hard enough, or are desperate enough, or have a death wish. Gods walk through the streets, passing undead cheerleaders or old cowboy gunslingers and no one bats an eyelid. Tourism is a big trade, mainly because Flipside gets a cut of the insurance money, which is ridiculously high. In a world where Satan, Dr Doom, Hannibal Lecter and Jason Vorhees can establish their own businesses, no one can ever really be safe.
So… welcome to Flipside; a place where dreams can come true, or, more likely, where nightmares will kill you. For god’s sake; be careful.
It was a special day in Flipside and one that I was not looking forward to. To be honest, that could describe most days in this god forsaken place, but not all of them scream trouble in such a distinct and loud voice.
For those of you who haven't already met me, my name is Arthur. Yes like the King and yes, the same person. I am protected by Merlin the Magician's most powerful ancient spells and carry at my side Excalibur, the gun reshaped from my old sword. It shoots bullets that kill instantly and the name Arthur Pendragon has become synonymous with death in Flipside. Oh, I am also an alcoholic, and worse, a cop.
I took a healthy swig of my hipflask and leant against a building, carefully watching the road and hoping that worry didn’t crease the corners of my eyes. Although I was meant to be immortal I swear that I was seeing more wrinkles and grey hairs every day. And yes, I am not ashamed to admit it; even the (allegedly) once and future king wasn’t adverse to a bit of L’Oreal for Men anti-aging cream. Hey, if Clooney could endorse it then it certainly couldn’t do me any harm.
The reasons behind today’s grey hairs were three-fold. First and foremost was a certain senator of Flipside, Mr Gordon M. Kelly (and no, I didn’t know what the M. stood for). This certain senator (that M. was going to bug me for the rest of the day – Mabel? Muriel?) was currently head of a very powerful and very rich campaign named the PHM – or Pro-Human Movement, a group that mixed politics and religion to a devastating amalgam of a new belief system that saw at its core the human being as the true representation of God on earth, in all His glory.
I could have told them it was bollocks of course and that if God did indeed look like some of those reprobates then the world was in serious trouble. But the problem wasn’t that they considered themselves the only true children of God, it was that they considered every other species as the children of God’s sworn enemy. Of course, in Flipside, where humans were just another voice amongst many, this spelled trouble.
Which brought me to my second worry of the day, the PHM rally, or as they had cleverly put it, One Race Under God. Basically a bunch of racist, xenophobic men and women running around my streets and shouting prejudiced intolerant chants about everyone but themselves.
In most places in the universe this would probably have meant that Mr Gordon (Maurice?) Kelly and his crazy followers would have been left to their own devices and ignored like the ignorant beings they were; but this was Flipside.
In Flipside even the houses could develop attitudes.
And so the last problem of the day presented itself to me; over 500 death threats, in writing, to the local police station. Ouch. My boss’s boss had yelled at my boss who had in turn yelled at me (which had prompted me to casually tap Excalibur in its holster until he stopped nervously) and I had agreed to pop along to the main part of the rally and make sure that no one in PHM got themselves killed.
And no, I wasn’t allowed to shoot them myself either apparently.
It had started with a very stirring speech by Mr Kelly and I was glad to see that the rally had purchased its own bodyguards. Pure humans of course, no one else would have done, but the two they had hired were good guys; Green Arrow and Hawkeye both of who I had worked with in the past.
Green Arrow waved at me and smiled. I smiled back remembering a certain wager involving a lot of alcohol which he had lost (and afterwards had graciously bought me a sports-car). If you couldn’t go drinking with rich superheroes then who could you go drinking with!
Both men kept surveying the crowd as I approached the side of the stand where Mr Kelly was giving his speech. His assistant and general dogsbody, a young man without much expression behind the eyes was mouthing the words along with his boss; I studiously ignored both of them and they returned the favour.
“Glad to see you guys are finding decent work these days” I quipped, allowing a hint of a smile to touch my mouth.
“Shove it Pendragon” snapped Hawkeye. Then he sighed.
“League orders I’m afraid” said Green Arrow, “they said it could be worse if we didn’t have a presence here”.
“Should have let Batman do it” I replied and we all laughed, although I noticed that neither of the men stopped scanning the crowds as they did.
Suddenly there was a commotion and a single shot rang out above the noise of the crowd and the speech.
The assistant who had been mouthing the words of the speech dropped suddenly, his face a bloody mess and blood splattered the senator and those around him.
“TIME TO DIE SENATOR” shouted a singsong voice and I recognised the two men who stepped forward from the scattering PHM members.
I had to smile as I recognised the mercenaries Deadshot and Bullseye, but the smile soon left me face as Green Arrow said “shit”.
“What?” I asked, having thought this would be a walk in the park.
“They are humans too” said Hawkeye.
“Which means that you can’t get involved Pendragon, we can’t have a superhuman killing humans at a Pro Human demonstration!”
Damn I thought, they were right. This all smelt fishy to me, too planned for my liking.
“OK, you guys have the floor, but if they get past you then they are minced meat.”
“Oh don’t worry my friend” said Green Arrow as both men notched arrows into their bows, “we’ll take care of this pronto”.
And so the two bodyguards, Green Arrow and Hawkeye went to meet the mercs Deadshot and Bullseye whilst I stood next to the quivering senator and waited to see what the outcome would be. One thing was certain, this was gonna get messy.
Bloody rallies I thought as I took a swig from the hipflask and kept a steady hand on Excalibur.
Posted 24 November 2011 - 01:29 PM
Posted 23 December 2011 - 01:57 AM
Posted 23 December 2011 - 08:30 AM
DamagEdit: Who the hell am I kidding?
Posted 23 December 2011 - 10:13 AM
Right around Christmas time too. I do believe Santa miscalculated by two days here.
I have returned. Why does this website always force me to use a new login each and every time I find myself free to post again? Where is treacherous?
Posted 23 December 2011 - 10:28 AM
I have returned. Why does this website always force me to use a new login each and every time I find myself free to post again? Where is treacherous?
Treacherous is probably somewhere giddily jumping up and down, formulating a way to make you stay for good.
Posted 23 December 2011 - 03:42 PM
Posted 30 March 2012 - 04:26 PM
Santa Claus vs. Darkseid by Dskillz
Apokolips, with its massive firepits, advanced weaponry, and metallic, fortress-like surface, is quite an intimidating sight to behold. Add that to its downtrodden and constantly tortured civilians, strong and cruel armies, and even more merciless ruler, and it is a world very much like Hell itself. So terrifying and powerful is this planet, it's only fitting that it is isolated from most of the rest of the universe.
At this time, Darkseid, he who rules and lords over Apokolips, stands with his huge hands clasped behind his back and surveys this evil ecumenopolis from a balcony in his throne room. All appears to be normal at the moment, at least by Apokoliptian standards. He observes some Lowlies being hoarded and shot at by a few Parademons to ensure enforcement of his malevolent law. Another hoard of Parademons soars over the ominous, dark red skies, being lead in patrol by Steppenwolf on his aircraft. In the distance, Darkseid sees Granny Goodness's Orphanage churning with activity, her Female Furies sparring ferociously just outside in preparation for combat.
All appears to be in order, but Darkseid knows on this day that all is not well on Apokolips, or at least won't be for long.
For today is Christmas Eve, and the despot knows that a certain, most unwelcome guest will be visiting, no, invading his domain very soon. A guest that would dare come to this forsaken planet to spread the promise of forbidden emotions, such as hope, goodness, and cheer, and do so on an annual basis. Darkseid's eyes literally burn a fiery red at merely the thought of such blasphemy in his empire.
Not this year, he thinks to himself, and never again.
This year, Darkseid and his forces have taken special measures for this "guest".
"DeSaad, have you made all of the necessary preparations?" asks the despot without turning around, addressing his advisor, who has just stepped into the throne room.
"Yes, Lord Darkseid," DeSaad answers with a bow. "All security on the planet is now on high alert. We have doubled the armaments of last year, anti-aircraft and otherwise, tripled the amount of satellites focusing on the skies, and we have erected our most powerful force field around the entire outer atmosphere of the planet."
"Good," says Darkseid. "Has my secret weapon fully matured?"
"Yes, master. He is at your disposal."
"Bring him to me at once. This is no time to waste."
A loud raucaus can suddenly be heard as shots from powerful firearms and vulgar language ring out just behind the chamber's main door.
"That... may not be necessary, my lord," says DeSaad as backs away from the entrance.
There is a loud thumping on the huge doors just before they break away from their hinges and crash to the floor, with a barely conscious Kalibak heaped on top.
"F-forgive me, sire," Kalibak says weakly to his father and master, groaning as he tries to sit up. "I tried to explain how he came to be--"
"Lemme at 'em! When I find whatever fraggin' geek did this t' me, there's gonna be hell ta pay!"
Through the doorway steps the last Czarnian, Lobo, or at least what appears to be him, with a comandeered laser cannon in hand. This Lobo, however, has salmon-colored hair, pale-pink skin, hot-pink facial markings, and red-orange clothing as opposed to his normal black and white look. Needless to say, the discovery of this new look does not please the Czarnian one bit.
"Nobody, NOBODY, makes the Main Man look like a sissy and lives, at least with his vital organs in one piece!" he continues, seething. "Somebody better start talkin' NOW, 'fore I turn th' place ta a floatin' pile o' ash!"
"You may leave us now," says Darkseid to DeSaad and Kalibak, unmoved by the threats. They quickly depart the chamber.
Darkseid then turns to face the bounty hunter. "Welcome to Apokolips. I am Darkseid, your new lord and master."
"What're ya babblin' about, stone-face?" says the pink-hued Czarnian. "Nob'dy makes a slave outta this bastich!"
"You would do best to show reverence before me, scoundrel," the tyrant calmly scolds.
"Heh, heh, sorry... forgot who I was talkin' to," says Lobo nervously. Darkseid is one of the few beings that can rightfully give the Czarnian pause.
"Now, do you recall when you were reduced to adolescence, then killed and revived here on Apokolips?" the despot continues.
"Aw yeah, me and my clones trashed th' place, then started fraggin' each other 'til only th' real deal was left. Good times," the pasteled alien recalls with a smile.
"With our technology, we were able to preserve a single clone. We then altered it and allowed it to mature until it could fully serve my purpose. You are that clone, and you retain all of the original Lobo's abilities."
"What, no way! So I ain't th' real deal?!" a stunned Lobo blurts out. "Of all th' raggin', fraggin'..."
"This should not concern you," interrupts Darkseid. "As mentioned, you retain all of the abilities of the original Lobo, so if you fulfill this mission to my needs, you may seek him out and deal with him as you like."
"I like th' sound'a that!" the cloned mercenary beams. "Now, what do ya need, Darky?"
"Every Earth year," starts Darkseid, turning away. "on the night of what the people of Earth call Christmas Eve, the being known as Kris Kringle has somehow managed to evade and penetrate all of our defenses to deliver... a 'gift' to me." Darkseid cringes slightly at the word "gift". "What's more, his mere presence on Apokolips seems to inspire the slightest sense of hope in the Lowlies. This, I CANNOT allow."
"Oh, Santy Claus?" inquires the Lobo clone. "That bastich fr'm Earth that's always spreadin' joy and whatnot? Yeah, sure, I can frag 'im."
"Indeed. But the spirit of Santa Claus cannot be extinguished by merely slaying him. The original Lobo, however, is among the greatest bounty hunters in the cosmos. He, as he likes to say 'always delivers.' That is why you were re-spawned. If my forces fail again, you will bring my old nemesis to me, dead or alive, so that we can contain him for all time."
"Well, if that's all you need... but what's in it f'r me? The Main Man don't frag f'r nothin'!"
"I think this will suffice."
With a wave of his hand, Darkseid conjures up red-and-orange versions of Lobo's space cycle and weaponry. A second hand gesture makes a group of scantily clad alien women and a huge pile of gold and other riches appear. The Lobo clone literally drools at the sight of these indulgences.
"Now that's what I'm talkin's about!" says Pink Lobo. "One question, though, Darky. If all th' fireworks here and whatnot couldn't frag Ol' Jolly, why not just give 'im some OB action?"
"I have tried on more than one occasion," responds the tyrant. "Unfortunately, he has proven immune to my Omega Effect. EVERY aspect of it." Darkseid's hands rest to his sides and, in a rare outward display of anger, clinch tightly into fists during the final part of his statement.
"Ha ha ha! Well ain't that a blip!" laughs the pasteled Czarnian. "Th' lord of all evil can't even frag an old man! I can't wait ta tell all those geeks back at th' diner!"
The warlord turns back in the Czarnian clone's direction after the remark.
"The original Lobo was shunned by the gates of Heaven and rejected from the pits of Hell. Would you like to be the first part of him to see oblivion?" Darkseid says as his eyes glow a fiery red once again.
"Whoa, whoa, alright, alright, I get it! No more cracks!" the Lobo clone stammers fearfully while waving his hands. "Just turn off those blinkers o' yours, will ya!"
"We have reached an understanding. Good." Darkseid's eyes dim again. "Now, bring Santa Claus to me, by any means necessary."
Somewhere in outer space, Ol' St. Nicholas himself, Santa Claus, rides his sleigh filled with a huge bag of gifts through the cosmos, hauled as usual by his nine best reindeer. How they survive the rigors of the vacuum of space year after year, let alone how they deliver presents across the universe in one night, has always been a mystery. As he has done countless times in the past, Santa checks his delivery list for his next destination.
"Is it that time already?" Santa says with a sigh as Apokolips comes into view. "So much evil in that place."
Santa has always done his annual Christmas Eve run with an infectious glee, but even his glee dims slightly at the sight of the malevolent planet.
"Those people should really follow the example of their neighbors in New Genesis. Now they... THEY, are truly a pleasure to visit."
The reindeer known as Donner snorts and rolls his eyes at Santa's statement.
"Ho, ho, ho, ho! I suppose you're right, old friend. That's probably expecting too much," St. Nick says cheerfully. "Darkseid is a brilliant fellow, but he may never understand the concept of Christmas Spirit."
Santa takes out his special telescope to see what the despot has in store for him this time.
"Let's see now... force field, anti-aircraft gear, the Furies... oh my, will he ever learn?"
He focuses the telescope closer to the planet's surface and catches an unexpected sight.
"Well, they've pulled out all the stops this year," Santa remarks. "Employing the services of Lobo of all people. He is certainly high on my naughty list, ho, ho, ho! But I am much better prepared for him than our last encounter. Onward to Apokolips, my reindeer! Rudolph, shine the way! Ho, ho, ho, ho!"
With a crack of the whip, Santa and his sleigh of gifts then soar toward the lowly planet.
Posted 27 April 2012 - 03:38 PM
Another day in a child’s most beloved fantasy, another day in this sick and twisted hell. Power Puff Girls fly over the city performing air raids, shadowy creatures known as Heartless act as body guards, and Bugs Bunny is the most feared person in existence. In this world heroes, villains, mutants, monsters, nerds, and talking animals all walk down the street together… And they all try to tear each other limb from limb in an all out war. This is the world I now live in; this is New Convergence.
My name is Jack, and it has been six months since I found myself waking up in this world. When I first arrived, I opened my eyes to a glorious metropolis of shining buildings and beautiful machinery. It was nothing like the rotting sewage pipe I’d come from called Rapture. This place was magnificent and inspiring. Oh but how quickly this would all change.
Apparently, me and a few hundred others were dragged from our own planes of existence to this one. I saw many other things waking up with a confused look on their face. That was probably the same way I looked a moment ago. Some of them looked pretty intimidating, so I took the cautious route and lurked in the shadows until I could figure out what was going on.
Turns out I had the right idea, because as soon as I made it to cover what seemed like over-spliced police officers came to round up everyone who had just appeared in the streets. They wore uniforms and had an air of authority about them, but their bodies where beyond burly with hulking frames and skin like steel. They carried off some of the more dumbfounded people with little effort, but those were their only easy targets. As soon as people caught on to what was happening, everything went to hell. Most of the newcomers decided to fight back… And I’ll be damned if they didn’t break the laws of reality when they fought! blue puppies toppled buildings, a red-haired pirate with almost no torso pull a tank out of his pants, and some italian mobster kept summoning cars from the sky by turning in a particular patern. It was utter madness!
I tried my best to avoid conflict until I knew what was going on. B the key word in that sentence is “tried”. Before I knew it I was dragged into a brawl with the police. Not wanting to kill unnecessarily, I set them ablaze with the snap of my fingers to distract them while I made my escape. Even though I had evaded capture without any problems I kept getting caught up in battle after battle. Eventually I, along with some other level headed people, found out where we were and how we got here.
A grateful young man that I saved from rampaging pokemon explained what this world is, The Convergence. The Convergence is the vertex and information storage area of every other universe and dimension that has ever been or ever will be created. All of the planet’s citizens worked as historians filing and maintaining the records of every other reality. Although this record keeping occupied most of their time, they enjoyed high-tech luxuries such as holographic cinemas of the realities they recorded and even had machines that let them become the which ever characters they wished in virtual battle arenas. But just like all societies this one had a dark side. A group of repels that had been planning the downfall of The Convergence’s civilization. And this group’s actions are what brought me here. In an act of terrorism the rebels blew up a Virtual Projection Arena, the place that transformed people into different beings for battle, and caused the machines to release some of the characters into this reality. And that is when this once enchanting realm of knowledge and intellectualism began its decent into misery.
The young man I saved took me and other good natured “leaks” into his home and sheltered us from execution. But while the rulers of The Convergence worked on exterminating all the people that were released into their world, some of the darkest forces imaginable gathered together and decided to take over. Most leaks were either fighting in the streets or making friends with the historians, but the demon Aku, the mystical drag-queen Him, and the evil witch Maleficent were building an army. In a fiendishly brilliant plot they pooled their magical powers and put all of the cartoon derived beings under their control. For some reason it was easier them to influence beings from a similar realm as themselves. I’m just thankful that those comic book juggernauts like Doomsday and Spawn were held in a different Virtual Projection Arena and didn’t get released.
Over the next few months the toon army succeeded in taking over The Convergence and enslaving its citizens, even the rebels who caused this mess were wiped out. Now all that stands in the way of them taking over all other realities is me and the rest of us game realm beings that are willing to take part in Master Chief’s plan to topple The New Convergence.
The Chief’s plan is a multi-step attack that will allow us to release all the anime and comic derived characters so that they may fight along side us. But before we can even think about that we have to gain the enemy’s attention with a series of raids. And that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m fighting some element controlling teenager as my allies battle their way thorough this castle full of Nickalodeon mad-men.
While they attacked the house it was my job to keep the atrium clear for a quick retreat. It would have been one of the easiest jobs I’d been give, but the world just doesn’t work that way. One of the enemy officers decided to take a nightly strole and picked NOW of all times to show up and fight. Now, to hold up my end of the mission I had to take this girl down. A voice in my heart whispered, “She is just a girl… She doesn’t know what she’s doing…” But after looking around at the fallen soldiers littered across the courtyard, and remembering how Atlas forced me to do whatever he pleased, I knew fighting was the only option and that little voice kindly shut the hell up!
I watched as the girl across from me danced around causing fire to spark from her limbs, the fountains surrounding us to spurted, and the ground itself to shift. I would have thought her performance mesmerizing, if I hadn’t seen every bloody person that tried to kill me in Rapture using those same types of abilities. So to make her understand just how very unoriginal her powers were I froze the fountains, lobbed a ball of fire to disrupt her movements, and tossed a boulder at her head. Unfortunately this little girl had more skill than I gave her credit for as she dodged the boulder with ease and launched a fiery counter attack. I dove behind a pillar and escaped the flames, but now it was time to complete my mission and show this little girl what I’m really made of. I stepped from behind my marble shield and charged into the open with only victory in mind.
Posted 27 May 2012 - 04:23 PM
Lonewolf-Carnage vs. Spiderman
One More Day... Of Suffering
Lord… children of the swarm, more dead than alive... Taken from on high, and thrown down among the swine…
Peter Parker held his young son’s hand tightly in his grip. A light haze of tiny snowflakes filled the air and he remembered a snowy day many years ago when his uncle Ben had brought him to the top of a huge (in his young eyes) hill in a nearby park. He could recall riding his sled down the slope again and again and the thrill and adrenaline rush, so new and exciting to him in this beautiful and fascinating place. His uncle had told him, “Peter, this is a wonderful world you will grow up in! Many years lie before you and they will be filled with endless happy days like this one, I just know it!”
He wished dearly he could take his son somewhere beautiful and awaken his dreams by telling him the same thing his uncle had told him so long ago, but he didn’t want to lie. Today his son would go to an ugly place - A place of fire, the stench of sulphur and the screams of the damned.
Peter had found the altar in an old graveyard, long forgotten and overgrown with ivy. A familiar voice had spoken to him as he approached it, “Remember me Parker? I trust you were happy with our pact for your aunt’s life…? I can see in your heart that something still troubles you though… You desire that I grant you another wish! Your heart speaks to me, you cannot silence its voice and it betrays your deepest yearning!”
Peter had fallen to his knees and begged to see his uncle Ben once again. His wish had been granted in the form of a vision. Ben stood writhing in a pool of liquid fire, his face loomed close in the vision and Peter could see that large maggots constantly squirmed beneath his facial skin, every now and then bursting forth from behind his eyeballs or falling from his mouth, wriggling horribly as they fell. The demon laughed as Peter screamed and clawed at his eyes trying to make the scenes stop playing before his eyes, but the tortures were endless and all his to see.
He pled and pled, begging for the pain to stop as the flailing old man flashed sporadically before him, finally the demon stopped laughing and to his shock and bewilderment, offered him what he last expected - hope!
“You may indeed have your uncle’s soul back, for I have tired of his withered flesh! Naturally, you do realize that there is a higher power that balances the scales… For as much as I would gladly bequeath his soul to you out of good will, alas, another soul must take his place in my kingdom! Do not fault me for this, it is the work of the One Above All, he is to blame for the terrible choice you must now make!”
Peter had bit his lip deeply until he nearly drew blood and then screamed at the sky. Why was this world so cruel, why did it always take the ones he loved? He offered to stalk and kill his ex-wife, Mary Jane Watson, but the demon scoffed at that idea - an ex-wife lacked the blood tie that was needed to balance the scales.
Peter dug through his pockets and pulled a tiny photo of his young son, gazed at it for a moment then dropped it from his hands. He watched the wind pick up the small fleck of paper and disappear into the night sky, tumbling it over and over. This world was a painful one, a prison of sharp blades and broken glass, and it would cut and rend the weak and helpless time and time again.
The man and well bundled child made their way up some snowy stone steps to the top of a tree-covered hill. The four-year old was tired and asked his dad for a treat since he had been forced to walk so far.
“Sure Tyler! Of course we can get some ice-cream! Isn’t it a bit cold out though for ice-cream?”
His son shouted back, “No daddy! I’m hot and I want ice-cream!”
A voice in Peter’s head laughed, “Ohhh it will be a lot hotter where you are going, child!”
“Daddy this is a graveyard! I thought we were going to go to the park and then…”
Peter put his hand over the child’s mouth and carried him to the stairwell leading into the dark beneath the tombs. The voice in his head could now clearly be heard in the air around him. The path before him was light by an ominous red glow, emanating around each corner, but whose source could not be seen. Peter’s son was plainly terrified, but he truly began screaming once they entered the central chamber. The low rumble of flames could be heard and the heat was too intense to cross the room. On the other side, opposite the entry hall was a rough-hewn cave mouth, from which bellowed thick black smoke and hellish heat.
A hideous and massive face appeared from this cave, like the head of a three meter tall anglerfish affixed to a loathsome fleshy, slug-like body. Peter closed his eyes tightly and a tear rolled down his cheek as he thrust the cowering child forward and heard the sickening crunch of flesh and bone as the beast devoured his child.
Peter slowly opened his eyes once he knew the deed had been done. The hideous creature coughed forth a chunky crimson mess of shredded meat, blood and bone into a grotesque steaming mound on the floor. Peter was in shock - was this all that was left of his son? The pile began to move, bone flakes shook and flickered and jumped together. Blood separated and pooled, leaking upwards and backwards into newly formed arteries. Soon a vile, skinless husk of a man stood before him, crawling with maggots and spasming with disjointed life from its core. There were no eyes in the bleeding face, only empty sockets crawling with the squirming larva, yet the face followed Peter’s unerringly. The mouth opened and the corpse spoke as a spray of worms fell from the jaw and down the front of the torso.
“Peter… what have… you… DONE????”
“Mary-Jane… I just... I just wanted to hear your voice… It has been so long, I feel like… like my life is falling apart right now… I just need to see you so bad tonight!” Peter’s voice wavered, almost breaking with emotion, over the phone-line.
“Peter, you know what happened between us, you know what it means… There won’t be any more second chances!”
“I know, I know that! It’s… It’s Tyler, He’s gone… I need you right now, please just come as quick as you can!” The line went dead and Mary-Jane stood there open mouthed – this sounded serious, she hoped that a super-villain like the Lizard hadn’t kidnapped Peter’s son, he *did* sound like he really needed someone to talk to.
Twenty minutes later the knock came at Peter’s door and he cautiously opened it. She looked as beautiful as she ever had, enough that his mind was once again at rest and all he wanted to do was be with her, to hold her hand on the day they both lie on their death beds, and pass into eternity by her side.
She walked in and he simply held her close in the dim room, not saying a word but feeling her heart beat close to his as long as he possibly could. He was clinging to the one thing he’d always cherish, like a life raft holding him from slipping below black waves into a lightless and cold abyss.
Suddenly her body stiffened and he felt her shudder from a powerful impact. A ghastly squelching noise sounded through the room and her body went limp in his arms. Behind her, Peter saw the skinless animated cadaver of his uncle Ben. He was holding her still beating heart in his hand. Ben’s jaw distended into a hideous bowl-sized cavity in his face and he swallowed the bloody organ in a single gulp. Next, he disgorged a squirming stream of maggots into his cupped palms and thrust the sickly yellow writhing pile into the spurting hole in Mary-Jane’s back. Peter watched in fascination as the larvae meta-morphed into a swarm of ugly brown spiders before disappearing into the body.
Uncle Ben spoke, “Peter, I loved you like a son and you know that my blood and the blood of your son is on your hands… You will make things right though - this I know. She was just the first… Bring me others… The spiders are always hungry!” The voice of the vile creature before him dropped in pitch to a distorted growl as it finished speaking and he could see the image of the beast from the caves in its eyes. He heard its commands and he would obey.
Mary-Jane stood up suddenly, walking with a lurching jerk and Peter could see the brown flecks of the spiders as the scurried behind her milky, dead eyes. She spoke a single word before she lurched out the door and out of his apartment…
Cletus Cassidy smiled as he reminisced back on the wild ride of a life he had led up to this point. He had been a typical teen, chasing girls, playing loud music until 2 in the morning and giving his parents regular head-aches as they negotiated with the principal over the latest caper he and his friends had pulled. Nothing too far out of the ordinary and nothing to really worry about beyond the immediate present. All that would change shortly after his 15th birthday...
A simple gang initiation had ended in tragedy. Cletus had overdosed on PCP and LSD to the point where he had simply fallen into a catatonic trance from the extreme brain damage. As he lay there on the brink of death he dreamed he saw a clown walking away from his body holding balloons in his hands. Inside each of the balloons was a screaming face. He knew these were people he would one day kill and this glimpse was how he would recognize them, once their paths crossed at some point in the days to come.
The clown told him a little story as it walked away, “Once there was a little boy who didn’t care anymore. He got to play all day and no one told him what to do. He never needed to worry about anything, everything was fun and games. Now go ahead, Cletus, it's YOUR to go play now!”
After he awoke in the hospital a week later he knew he had changed. He simply did what he felt like or what amused him, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that others had feelings as well. He tortured because he thought that screams sounded funny now, like hearing a cat screech in a cartoon. He killed once inflicting torment became boring to him. Avoiding the police as long as possible wasn’t really his intention, but he realized that they would make him stop playing and a part of him became very sad at the thought of that happening.
All good things come to an end, Cletus said to himself with a wistful smile as the police kicked down his door and put all their gun barrels in his face. Why couldn’t every people just let him play? Did they really need to go out of their way to stop him?
The trial had been an open and shut case. Eleven murders with nearly a hundred total witnesses between them. He had been singing songs to himself and smiling cheerfully around the room, as the details of how he had hacked a family to death with a meat cleaver had been read aloud to the stunned court-room. All he knew is that this was the end of the line. Fun and games were over and the word “Death…” was stamped into his brain, driven home by the sound of the judge’s falling gavel.
Maximum security prison had been as much of a joke as anything else was in his life. He had stabbed a guard to death with a filed down toothbrush his first week in lock-up and from then had been confined to solitary. Now, finally alone for the longest he had ever been, he became sad and detached and it finally occurred to him to think things through in his life.
He passed the days drifting in and out of sleep. The light in his cell was always the same and it seemed as if time did not exist in this place. Meals were the only measure of the fact that the world hadn’t frozen in place. At first he had sang songs or tried to call out to see if perhaps someone was walking by and they would answer him, but they never did.
One day he was ticking off meals on the wall to somehow give his life a sense that it was still moving forward, when a crack beneath the paint revealed itself and he broke through into a small nook built by a previous prisoner. His eyes opened in joy and surprise and he reached his arm up to the elbow into the concealed crevice and rummaged for anything of interest. His palm closed around a small vial and he pulled it out to examine it, perhaps it contained drugs, he could kill some time while high! His face split into a wide grin upon seeing a few small white tablets at the bottom of the tube. A small piece of tape had been used to label the contents, but it was now unreadable.
“Worst case it’s rat poison and I take a short cut where I’m going anyways, best case I get high as hell, what do I got to lose?” Cletus muttered to himself before popping the top off and emptying the contents down his gullet.
For about five minutes nothing seemed to happen, which meant that he probably hadn’t swallowed a toxic poison. Another thought passed through his head, what if it was simply some aspirin, what if this was just a painkiller or something else equally mundane - even the poison might be preferable, since that would mean that *something* would actually happen, not just him alone with his thoughts and staring at the silent walls. “The walls...”, it hit him all the sudden, they were the only thing holding him in here, it was so clear, just on the other side of that cement was everything he ever wanted, just a few walls were stopping him!
On a whimsy he scraped at the paint with his thumbnail and scratched a small fleck free. Where the paint had peeled away he was stunned to see an open and empty blackness instead of the grey of cement… Through the tiny opening he could make out a shimmering sea-like expanse of far away lights that could only belong to the deepest reaches of space! He grabbed the edges of the paint, which felt like some sort of fabric now, and ripped them wide open, revealing a stunning view. Near and far and everywhere in between, many multi-colored planets zipped by at blurred speeds. He could make out co-joined twin planets, gas giants, ringed ice spheres and halos of lunar bodies drifting in awkward but mathematically perfect geometric formations. The rest of the paint peeled and dried off the walls and crumbled into dust revealing for the first time the facts that he was now traveling at quantum speeds through an infinitesimally distant sector of space, encased only in the smooth glass-like walls of the cell.
Ahead in the path his vessel seemed to be taking, lie a tiny unmoving eye of red light. It grew slowly as he approached and he could see that its size dwarfed every other planet or even star that he could compare it to. And it kept growing. Soon the blackness of space was all but blotted out by the vast, infernal red glare. "Was this some form of boiling space-hell?" Cletus wondered to himself as he stood open mouthed in shock.
A scathing, distorted voice seemed to scream at him from the bubbling landscape of liquid fire as he plummeted towards its surface, “For your sins… for the blood… for what cannot be undone!”
He now knew what fear was, this is what those screaming people had felt, it was all clear to him now. Plain and inescapable, agonizing oblivion lay immediately before him, like a man being pushed to the edge of a precipice with nowhere to go except down.
The pain was worse than he could ever have imagined, he would not die even though he prayed to be released. He fell and fell for what seemed like days until a tiny speck of light caught his eye. It was just about too far away to see, but as it approached it became clearer...
A glimmering man he had read about once in a book long ago. This man was special because he brought peace with him where ever he went. His story was told to children across every country on Earth. The figure gleamed with a blinding light reflecting from his polished metallic skin and rode a flattened, elongated disc. He was called The Silver Surfer.
The glowing eyes of the Surfer stared into his own and he felt his soul being probed to its very depths. This being existed to ease his suffering, somehow Cletus believed this more than anything he had ever felt before. The majestic being raised his outstretched arms and pointed his palms at Cletus. “Be well my child!” Were the only words he spoke, and an endless torrent of searing light burned though his eyes and into his mind. White light filled every tiny insignificant atom of his being, every thought and memory was seared by it and utter silence filled him as he felt the very essence of the being he had been, eroded and burned away into nothingness.
Everything was silent. All he could see was blank, white light in front of him everywhere he looked. It eventually dawned on him that he was staring at the ceiling of his cell. He felt like a dam had broken inside of him and released a vast flood of water over a dry and desolate desert. The gravity of the wrong he had done struck him now with full force and he desperately yearned to make amends. He felt as if he were looking through the walls before him and up into the sky, where a drop of liquid, like a red tear, fell towards him. He sensed it fall to the roof of the mammoth fortress that he sat in, like an ant beneath a vast boulder. It trickled and flowed through vents and pipes and various pores in the cement and he heard a whisper calling his name. Suddenly the bloody liquid shot out from the cracked wall and lashed out at him like a snake. It engulfed him head to toe and spoke in whispers, telling him a new story that he would soon play a role in.
“We must… escape now! We must save them! We must save them all from… the one called the… Spider-Man!”
The TV called it the ‘Spider-Sickness’.
J.J. Jameson would have had a field day with this one, if only he hadn’t been one of the earliest victims. The walking corpses, skin bulging and boiling with thousands of spiders, had broken through the doors of his office and held him down. He had screamed for help, he had even *begged* for Spider-Man to come rescue him, as had happened so many times in the past. He looked over desperately and saw Spider-Man watching him as the corpses held him down across his desk. Spider-man just stood and watched him with cold fascination as the creatures pried J.J.’s mouth open. The writhing swarm skittered up his legs and across his chest, their hairy itchy legs tickled his neck and the last thing he saw in this world was their bloated bodies and red eyes as they came over his chin and began disappearing into his mouth…
The plague continued to spread and only one man could stop it. A man deemed the epitome of evil by society, a man who had been purged of the darkness in his heart and had bonded with a creature from the heavens to stop the spread of pure evil in this world!
Spider-man and 100 of his Spider-Zombies face off against the redeemed Carnage! This battle takes place in NYC’s times Square. The only bystanders are the infested undead. Who wins?
Posted 06 June 2012 - 11:38 AM
Culwytch: Randall Flag VS Pennywise
Warning: This setup contains elements of graphic horror, violence and adult themes. Please only read if you are of age and ideally if you have read previous Stephen King novels. Any complaints about the maturity of content will be ignored - you have been warned.
THE CYCLE’S END: ENTITIES OF DARKNESS
Chapter 1: Father Corrin
Mother Mary Cathedral
Father Corrin awoke drenched in sweat, the bed sheets tossed to the floor and the remnants of the nightmare already fading from memory. The room was plunged into utter darkness and silent apart from the quick thumping of his heart. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember the nightmare but it was like trying to grip ice and kept slipping from his mind, leaving just a casual shiver up his spine.
Wide awake now, he swung his legs over the side of his small bed and checked his clock. 7:34! Corrin jumped out of bed; he had overslept! The first Sunday morning mass began at 8:00 and the Cathedral still needed to be prepared. Fighting the rising panic, Corrin switched on the little bedside lamp and quickly washed his face and teeth at the small sink in his room. Donning his cassock, pausing only to quick smooth down his short hair he rushed out.
The Cathedral was quiet and dark. Father Corrin stopped in the hallway, waiting to hear the usual traffic outside and the hustle and bustle of the other priests inside. After a while he realised he was still standing there, waiting, when he had little time left.
Switching a light switch illuminated the rows upon rows of pews in the Cathedral. Empty rows which should have been at the centre of activity as priests made sure everything was clean and ready to receive the 100 to 200 worshipers. Where was everyone?
Stopping and listening, Father Corrin again noticed the absolute stillness of the world around him. No movement or noise, no beeping cars or screaming babies. The familiar shiver of his nightmare returned, running up his spine as his heartbeat quickened.
Exiting the main Cathedral and almost running, Corrin returned to the Priest House where he lived with 8 other priests. The first door he came to was that of Father O’Malley, the oldest of the priests. He was nearly eighty and rarely awoke before half 8. Due to his diabetes and need for rest he was excused from mass duties but still occasionally came to greet that worshipers as they were leaving.
Corrin’s knock sounded loudly in the silence, echoing through the halls of the priest house. No reply came and Corrin knocked again, his heart fluttering in his chest. Eventually he gave up and moved to the next door, that of Father Smith, a young Scot who had joined the clergy only last year. A good lad who was always eager to help, Smith was surely on his way to an early promotion to Dean.
Again no answer to the knock and this time, Corrin slowly tried the door handle. It was unlocked and the door swung easily open without a sound. The room was dark and a strong smell hit Corrin’s nostrils and made his head reel. He couldn’t place it.
He put his hand against the wall, his hand feeling around for the light switch which he flicked once found. The light flickered for a moment before illuminating the scene before him. Corrin screamed once and fell back as if pushed.
Father Smith was in the bed, his hands around a knife buried in his stomach. He had been completely gutted and his insides laid all around him, a gory mess that drooped over the side of the bed and leaked onto the floor. It was almost as if his guts were trying to escape towards the door, paused whilst crawling away from their owner.
Father Corrin threw up violently onto the stone floor, tears pouring out of his eyes as his whole body shook. He stumbled away from the grizzly sight, slipping and falling as if drunk and without thinking grasped at the next door handle he came to.
The room belonged to Father Stanley, a young man who had grown up in the city. Corrin knew that Stanley hadn’t always been the paragon of virtue he was now and that it was in fact this troubled past that had driven Stanley into the arms of the Lord.
Corrin tried speaking when he flung Stanley’s door open but the words refused to come out. He froze at the sight before him. He had no need to switch the light on to see the carnage and blood (he recognized that strong smell now) that lay on the floor. The mirror above the sink in the small room had been broken and Father Stanley had used a large shard to cut himself - cut his face, cut his arms, cut his legs and ultimately cut his wrists.
Corrin had never seen so much blood in all his life. It was splattered around the room as if done by some insane decorator; and the mangled body on the floor was covered and surrounded by it.
There was nothing left for Corrin to throw up, and shuddering and heaving, he stumbled back to his own room.
Corrin threw himself onto his bed, crying and shivering and he felt like his mind had been ripped out and stamped on. It was about an hour before Corrin managed to stop shaking and even then, it was only so he could grasp the bible that was always at his bedside closely to his chest. He opened it at random, needed the familiar verses to calm his mind and spirit and read out loud. His voice sounded dreadful in the overpowering silence but he managed to keep it even and steady as he read from Peter:
“whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”
Feeling only marginally better, Corrin eventually left his room to face the grizzly death that had visited the Priest House.
Fear gripped his very soul.... and he thought he felt something peering at him from every corner, tasting that very fear and enjoying it.
Where was everyone? Asked Father Corrin
Chapter 2: Susan Taylor
Susan was running. Her heart felt like it would burst and she could barely draw another breath but she carried on, her terror and pain keeping her going. She didn’t know where she was running to but knew that running would take her further away from what she had seen. Even if the terrible images kept echoing through her mind, playing themselves over and over again like a skipping CD, at least she would be far away from there.
Susan Taylor, born Susan Francis, was 22 years old and fit for her age. Regular morning runs and trips to the gym had kept the baby weight off her and she turned many a head when she was out. She had married young, to Toby Taylor (known to friends simply as T-man), her childhood sweetheart and everyone had expected as much. To look upon those two was to look upon true love. Kindred spirits they were from birth and nothing would ever have stood between them.
A year almost to the day after their wedding, Susan had announced she was pregnant and everyone had been over the moon. Despite being only 24, T-man was a gifted architect and had impressed some very important people with his designs. The money had come readily but they had been careful with it, putting it aside for the right occasions and avoiding the luxurious lifestyle that they could have easily afforded.
They were happy, and when Anthony Taylor (Young T) came along, Susan and T-man had both cried with joy. Her dad had taken T-man aside and they had shared a huge cigar outside the hospital despite the annoyed looks from the nurses.
Life was good.
Susan stumbled as she ran and fell to one knee. She was drained and simply stayed on her knees, alternating between crying and gasping for breath.
Life had been good, until 6 that morning when she had been getting ready for her morning run.
Dressed in her jogging shorts and tank top, she had quickly brushed her teeth and tied her hair back before going into the living room. She had assumed that T-man and Young T would be in the kitchen going through their usual feeding ritual involving the metaphorical airplane landing at the airport. Young T was still young enough to enjoy the ritual, even if his laughter subsided with certain foods he had grown to dislike.
Instead of being in the kitchen, T-man was in the living room, hunched in the corner.
“What you doing honey?” she asked to which she got no response.
Sensing something was wrong; Susan stopped and looked at the kneeling figure, suddenly alarmed by the lack of motion. With three long strides she was by her husband’s side and gently touched his arm, still looking at the back of his still head.
With a gasp she took her hand away, a scream rising to her lips but unable to escape. She couldn’t understand what she was looking at, just didn’t comprehend the reality of what she could see before her eyes. There were pills scattered all over the floor.
It looked like (but surely couldn’t be) T-man was kneeling over the still body of his son but that Young T, normally so full of bubbly life and enthusiasm, was turned away. No, that wasn’t right. Young T’s body was facing up, but so was the back of his head.
Susan frowned, her brain still refusing to understand what she was seeing. It must be a wig or a trick of the light. Her husband’s big strong hand was around her boy’s neck, twisting it at such an impossible angle and she wanted to tell her husband to stop in case he hurt the child… but again, words refused to surface.
Her gaze followed the arm up and to her horror she saw blood and mucus dripping out of her husband’s mouth and nose. Suddenly her instinct took over and her hand grasped her husband’s broad shoulder.
He toppled backwards, falling flat on the floor and his dead, uncaring eyes were staring straight at her. His hand finally released her son’s neck and the boy fell away, rolling on the floor. When he stopped he was lying on his stomach and she could see the blue-ish tinge of his skin and the way he flopped limply.
Although he was on his stomach, his face was turned completely around at a 180 degree angle and frozen in a horrific rictus of agony. His dead eyes were also open and seemed to stare straight at her.
Something in Susan’s mind snapped at the sight of her husband and son staring at her with those dead eyes and she simply ran….
And kept running.
When she finally stopped she was alone in the park. She had felt the presence of other people as she fled her apartment block, had even seen some horrid sights of mutilated bodies but her mind had completely shut down in self-defence.
She just couldn’t believe the complete madness she had faced and once again, she doubled over in agony.
Her husband was dead.
Her son was dead.
Hang on… this must be a dream she thought desperately to herself. This must just be a terrible nightmare and I’m going to wake up any moment and everything will be back to normal. T-man will be feeding Tony and I’ll go for my morning jog. I may even suggest we all go to Pizza Hut this afternoon as a treat.
But it doesn’t feel like a dream. Susan scratched her head, wondering for a moment why she wasn’t waking up.
Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes.
She whirled around, peering into the foliage but unable to penetrate the thick leaves and branches and discover what was concealed in the darkness beyond.
“Who’s there?” she asked and instantly felt stupid. It was probably just a fox or squirrel and she was waiting for an answer.
She turned away, once again lost in thought about what she had seen back in the apartment. She was so lost in the horror of what had happened that she failed to notice the shadow rise up from the bushes and silently creep towards her.
The first thing she noticed was the smell; it was a pungent smell of rot and decay mixed with the fumes of old alcohol on turgid breath. Even as she whirled around she was grabbed from behind, a big strong hand grasped her wrist and twisted it behind her back, the other came around her neck in a strangle hold.
The putrid breath was right by her ear and she almost heaved at the smell. Her assailant was huge, taller than her by almost a head and a half and she could feel the scratching of a thick beard against the back of her head.
“Hello love… I’m Harry” whispered a deep gruff voice and her arm was dragged further back up her back, making her squeal in agony.
“Please…” she managed to groan and then stopped as she felt something hard sticking into her lower back.
“Oh yeah…” growled the sick voice behind her, “say please again.” The big hand around her neck travelled lower and roughly squeezed her right breast.
“Please don’t hurt me” squealed Susan, tears streaming down her face.
“No promises darling”, the hand squeezed and pinched and she cried out in agony.
Susan cried and gasped for breath
Chapter 3: Harry Stephenson
Harry rubbed his hands together and felt the handcuffs digging in tightly. The cops in the front of the car were ignoring his insults but he kept it up nonetheless. There was something magical about being able to call people every name under the sun and them not be able to do anything about it. Sure they could rough him up a bit and they were already going to throw him in jail for what he had done, but it was good knowing that that was pretty much it.
He was going to jail, no doubts about that. But he had been there before and it wasn’t such a big deal. Take the biggest, baddest mofo out and you were top dog, and Harry was a big mofo indeed. When he was just a kid, the other kids had given him the nickname Andre, after Andre the Giant and it was a name he had liked.
Yup, he was gonna go to jail and he didn’t give a damn. It was only a pity that Ralph Molinelli was going to get away with it - Harry would have loved to have him under his fists for just five minutes - that mafia scumbag owed him 5 big ones and was probably half way back to Italy by now. He’d stay there if he knew what was good for him.
The robbery was meant to be like any other; a jewellery store run by a family, far enough from a pig station that if someone tripped the alarm they would hopefully still be quick enough to get away. Only problem was that the family lived upstairs so any noise downstairs would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.
Surprisingly Ralph had come up with such a simple plan it was brilliant; hit the house upstairs first, lock the family up and then hit the shop downstairs right under their noses. It had to be a quick and slick operation that meant they were in and out in an hour max. Twenty minutes to get the family secured, ten minutes to get all the security codes and keys required and half an hour to hit the shop.
Unfortunately things hadn’t gone quite to plan, primarily down to Ralph being a chicken shit Italian scumbag.
Harry and Ralph had hit the upstairs flat as planned, busting in during the family dinner and getting everyone’s hands where they could see them in an instant. Only thing they didn’t plan for was the owner’s cute niece having come to stay and Harry wasn’t going to pass up and opportunity like this one. She had that vulnerable, trusting and innocent look that he loved.
So he clocked the uncle a good one that had him pissing blood out of his nose and grabbed the girl, telling Ralph to handle the family for 10 minutes while he took care of business.
And that’s when things started going wrong. Ralph had whipped up a gun, saying he couldn’t allow Harry to do that, that this was a robbery and that was all.
Well Harry wasn’t about to let this little one escape his grasp so he brings up his gun and tells Ralph to grow a pair. It must have been during the standoff that uncle triggers a silent alarm and then decides to be heroic.
He whips up a gun from behind the table and suddenly it’s a Mexican standoff with three guns waiting to decide the outcome of the evening. Except one problem, both Ralph and the uncle’s guns are pointing straight at Harry.
With a quick pull, Harry brings the girl around in front of him with one hand around his neck. She’s not much protection as Harry is about twice her size but everyone can see that a simple twist of his hand would break the girl’s neck with little effort.
She’s screaming and twisting and Harry grins at his two opponents.
“I’ll give you to three before I break her neck. One…”
“Please don’t do this” shouts the uncle.
The uncle lowers his gun when he sees Harry’s hand tighten on his niece’s neck.
Harry stares straight at Ralph, who quickly drops his gun on the floor as well.
“Kick them both over here” says Harry and they comply. Harry smiles, then lightning quick he moves forward and punches Ralph hard in the face. Ralph drops and Harry kicks him hard in the stomach, sending him flying through the air with at least one cracked rib. Ralph moans and crawls away.
Harry turns to the uncle and backhands him to the floor. He then proceeds to stomp on his head repeatedly, turning it into a mash of brains and blood. The niece is screaming on the floor and continues screaming as Harry grabs her.
Ten minutes later the cops turn up, breaking down the front door to find Harry holding the struggling niece over the bloody corpse of her uncle whilst he has his way with her. Her screams had drowned out the sounds of the sirens and Ralph is nowhere to be seen.
Scumbag must have crawled away while I was having fun, thought Harry.
And so Harry finds himself in the back of the cop car and wonders what his next meal will be - that little struggling vixen had him work up quite an appetite.
Suddenly the car slams to a stop, the breaks squealing. Around him other cars are doing the same.
The cop on the right pulls out his gun and puts it to his head. Without any hesitation he blows his brains all over the window. The other cop gets out of the car and Harry cringes down, wondering what the hell is going on.
The other cop simply runs into a wall as fast as he can, with his head down. With a sickening crack it splits open and Harry can see brains leaking out.
Second brain I’ve seen today he thinks briefly before watching the other people in other cars. They are all killing themselves, some quickly, others more creatively. One man starts climbing a lamppost with a rope in his hand, another has knelt next to the passenger seat of a car and in slamming his head repeatedly with the car door. A woman has crashed through a window and started cutting herself with the shards of glass whilst a man has emerged from a shop with a table leg which he is working into his stomach.
All of them have this look of complete horror on their faces at what they are doing.
Harry picks the keys to his handcuff off one of the dead cops and runs from the scene.
He ends up in the park and promptly falls asleep. He awoke when a young woman comes running by, crying and sobbing and breathing heavy. For all Harry knows she’s the only person in New York that hasn’t killed herself yet - and she’s a mighty fine looking specimen.
Harry smiles and then creeps towards her. She’s in a world of his own and doesn’t notice him until he grabs her.
His smile turns into a grin as he whispers into her ear:
“Hello love… I’m Harry”.
He then proceeds to feel her up, grabbing and squeezing and enjoying her cries for mercy and pity.
He’s about to unzip himself when suddenly there’s a shout behind him and something hard hit him on the back of his head. Harry dropped to his knees and let go of the girl. The blow would undoubtedly killed a weaker man but Harry growls and starts getting back up to his feet. He sees a young man dragging his prey away - and what the hell - the man seems to be wearing a priest outfit.
Harry’s groggy and quickly loses the couple from sight so he sits down hard and gently touches the back of his head. Looking back he sees there’s blood on the massive rock the priest used on him.
Damn that little shit, Harry thinks. I’ll give him hell when I see him. Make him watch while I do that woman and then tear his head right off his shoulders.
Harry leans back and closes his eyes… and in his dreams sees a face smiling at him.
“You’ve done well my son, come back to the city, we have work to do” says a deep voice, filled with terrible promises and awful redemption.
Harry nods and smiles back.
The man smiled and said “come back to the city, we have work to do”.
Chapter 4: Fear
Father Corrin and Susan Taylor ran through the park, ignoring the branches that cut at them and the rocks that threatened their footing.
“Faster” whispered Corrin, edging the young woman onwards and she gladly obliged, her mind still reeling from everything that had happened already.
They soon reached the edge of the park and Corrin beckoned her towards a car.
“Quickly, I think I hear him behind us” said Corrin, holding the door open for her.
At first Susan hesitated, already uneasy from her experiences of the day but then obliged, putting her faith in the priestly robes and the kind face that had saved her from a terrible fate.
They drove off and the priest swerved to avoid cars and bodies sitting in the streets.
“What the f*** is going on!” screamed Susan.
“I don’t know” replied the priest softly. “I woke up today and my whole clergy is dead, my worshipers are dead too. Everyone just killed themselves. Some of them on their way to mass.”
“My husband…” Susan couldn’t finish.
“I understand” said Father Corrin. “I tried calling my family as well with no answer. “
“This is a nightmare, it must be. My husband didn’t kill my baby, that just wouldn’t happen.”
Father Corrin looked at her with compassion in his eyes and then sped up.
“I’m afraid that this may just be the beginning.”
“What? How could this possibly get worse?” Susan was almost screaming again, her voice high pitched and approaching hysteria.
“I think that someone is coming”
“Coming? Someone? What are you talking about?”
“They call him the Dark Man but he also goes by the name Randall Flagg, and he will unite all of the evil in this world and destroy it all. That is his only purpose in life, to “uncreate” the whole world.”
“You’re crazy, let me out of this car right now.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that” said the priest sadly, he then whipped his hand round hard and punched Susan in the side of the head. Her head whipped sideways and hit the side of the car hard; darkness engulfed her vision and she passed out.
He drove on.
When Susan awoke, the first thing she thought when opening her eyes was that it was night time. But then a closer inspection revealed that she was in a cave of some description, with the only light coming off some lamps held in brackets around the cave wall.
She tried raising an arm and her heart fluttered when she realised she was tied down. She struggled for a moment but quickly realised that the bonds holding her done were much too strong.
“Help!” she screamed. “Heeeeeelp” her voice turned into a long wail of frustration and agony, a woman pushed to the edge of reason and sanity.
“This won’t take long Susan”, the voice was familiar. The Priest! That was it.
“Please, I don’t know what I’ve done but please let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
“You don’t understand do you” said the Priest’s voice and, twisting her head, she could see him standing in the corner of the cave. And he wasn’t alone. A throng of people circled her, dark figures with the same look of fear in their eyes as they watched her struggle. “There is no one else but us.”
“Us,” he paused, “and It.”
Suddenly she felt a movement round her foot and her mind cast back to an old fear that had haunted her through childhood and into her grown up years. Her father had once taken her to the zoo and she had managed to escape his protective grasp and run into the reptile house.
There, amidst the dark and damp she had gotten completely lost and suddenly found herself face to face with a huge lizard sitting on a long tree stump. It has just stared at her and she had been completely frozen in its gaze. Her body had simply refused to respond to her brain and, looking into those cold reptile eyes, she had seen the horrors that it could visit upon her. She imagined how its slimy yet cold scales would feel against her skin, imagined those long talons digging into her flesh, that forked tongue flickering against her neck and most frightful of all were those eyes… those terrible cold, inhuman eyes that held the young girl in place. It was as if it could reach into her mind and read her innermost thoughts….
Susan felt something brush up against her foot as the other people in the room suddenly closed their eyes.
“It is here!” exclaimed the priest.
She felt an awful wet and scaly skin press against her ankle, then slowly climb up to her knee. A cold hand touched her sides, dragging a large body up against her legs.
Tears flowed down Susan’s cheeks and she couldn’t breathe as the fear clutched her heart.
She heard a hiss and felt a tongue against her bare stomach…
Slowly, ever so slowly, Susan found the strength within herself to bring her head up… and then she screamed like she had never screamed before.
Upon seeing the terrible eyes that gazed into her soul, what little remained of Susan’s fragile sanity broke and crumbled.
Susan remembered those terrible cold, inhuman eyes that held her in place.
Chapter 5: Harry Stephenson
Harry travelled into the city the day after the incident in the park and was met by likeminded souls. They partied hard that whole day, repeatedly enjoying the twenty women they had captured. The men they had captured didn’t last the day as some were crucified and some were tortured for fun.
Randall Flagg had given them this day to do what they wished but tomorrow would mean they had to work to ensure that they were ready.
Ready for what Randall hadn’t said and Harry wasn’t about to ask.
Chapter 6: Father Corrin
Father Corrin carried the limp body of Susan Taylor back out of the cave. Her death had been swift, a massive heart attack which had fed It well. It had been feeding constantly for the last day, given substance by the followers that brought it sustenance from the scared humans that travelled alone.
It had been weakened before but the meddlesome humans performing the Ritual of Chüd; they hadn’t realised how powerful they were once they grasped their full potential… but they certainly weren’t powerful enough to destroy someone like It.
They had simply made It weak, but the 27 year sleep had seen it revive into a world of pure fear and that fear had given it a strength like never before.
Chapter 7: Harry Stephenson
Harry woke up refreshed and feeling great. There was a woman in the bed next to him, still asleep. Her face bloody and a large bruise stretched from her chin to her right ear. Serves her right for crying so loudly, thought Harry.
He thought about waking her up and having another go but looking at his watch he realised he had little time. Randall was excepting him in ten minutes.
Throwing some clothes on some water in his face, Harry left the room in a hurry.
Randall was waiting for him in an old casino that had been turned into a base of operations. In the centre of the room, between some poker tables and a huge roulette wheel, on an actual throne sat the Dark Man. He was an attractive man, with an easy smile that nonetheless set Harry’s teeth on edge. It was the smile of a predator, full of wise humour but with teeth as dangerous as a shark.
“Harry, glad you could make it. How’s the woman?” asked Randall, standing up to greet his second in command.
“Which one?” asked Harry grinning.
Randall laughed and clasped the man on his shoulders. Despite towering over Randall, Harry still felt smaller than the man.
“Are you sure that all the preparations are underway?”
“Yes sir” replied Harry. “The troops are getting ready to move and we’ve got people scoping out both of the other camps. We’re expecting a report back on both today.”
“Excellent Harry, you’ve done some excellent work.”
Harry almost felt himself blushing with pride. The two camps in question were both about the same size as Randall Flagg’s; one in the East and one to the North.
The Eastern camp was composed of mainly stragglers who had grouped together around an old woman. Harry was convinced that they were not of any concern despite what Randall seemed to think, not like the one to the North.
The Northern camp was a mystery, with around the same number of people and seeming to worship some deity which lived among them. Any spies that they had sent into their camp had been killed horribly - dragged into a mysterious cave alive and emerging dead or in a seemingly zombie-like state. This was the one that Harry was worried about as their military power seemed to match that of Randall’s band.
“Well thank you sir, it’s an honour” said Harry.
“Good good. Well, I will let you get on with things. But step things up, we need to be ready to move soon.”
Randall grinned again and Harry grinned back, only his eyes betraying the fear he felt.
“You’ve done some excellent work” said Randall.
Chapter 8: Father Corrin
Father Corrin knelt before the alter and scrubbed at the blood that was there. The camp preparations were well underway, with his direction stepping things up a gear, ready for whatever waited for them in the South.
It had not given him much information but in dreams he would see the Enemy and know that he was an enemy of his Master.
Suddenly a noise had him twirling around and he was faced with his fear…
His mother stood before him, her eyes running pure red with blood. She grabbed him and he screamed but then slowly her face changed, melted away to be replaced by that of one much more familiar.
Jesus stood before him and put a calming hand on his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be so scared all the time Father, it’s not good for the heart.” It laughed in its new guise.
“I’m sorry Master, I was just about to make some final preparations for the war to come.”
“Excellent Father, we need to be moving soon. I sense him in the South and am eager to meet him at long last.
“Yes Master.” And then Corrin plucked up the courage to ask “May I ask who he is Master?”
The figure of Jesus stared at him suddenly started bleeding all over. Father Corrin stared upon the bloody figure and wept.
“He’s the Dark Man, the Walkin’ Dude and just as I feed on fear, so does he breed evil. But he is just a plaything before my might and soon he will know the true meaning of fear. The Man in Black is going to be a meal on my plate. And you and my flock will be the instrument that finally destroys this pathetic mortal and the world will be my playground.”
Corrin has shrunk back before the monster’s wrath and now he straightened up.
“Yes Master, I will go and ensure the troops are ready for war.
Father Corrin stared upon the bloody figure of Jesus and wept
Chapter 9: The War
And so the war started brewing, soldiers following beings of unspeakable fear and evil. Gathered in the desolate post-Apocalyptic world a handful of survivors struggle to survive, unaware of the armies that prepare for bloodshed.
The forces of Randall Flagg gather together in the South, bringing more and more evil souls to them and turning their city into a nightmarish vision of torture, violence and humiliation.
In the North, the forces of It feed innocent souls to their terrible god, giving him more and more strength through fear. Their culture of destruction and savagery rivals that of Flagg.
The two forced know of each other and prepare for a war that will only see one survive and true evil unleashed upon the ravaged lands.
God help the innocents, for they haven’t a hope in the darkness about to be released.
Or do they?
To be continued…
Posted 07 June 2012 - 12:14 AM
Culwytch: Randall Flag VS Pennywise
Wow, thanks LoneWolf!
Posted 01 July 2012 - 10:09 AM
Minnie Mouse vs. Mickey Mouse by Johnny Chany
A blue rhino in a bailiff’s uniform stood emotionless in front of the judge’s bench. “All rise. The Supreme Court of Toon Town is now in session. The Honorable Judge Bugs Bunny now presiding.”
All in attendance stood as Bugs made his entrance from the side adorned in a long black robe. He milked the moment for a minute before finally taking his seat.
“Please be seated,” announced the bailiff.
Bugs Bunny looked from left to right and then did a double take when he realized Mickey and Minnie Mouse were on opposite sides of the courtroom, both attired in business suits. Minnie sat at the prosecution’s table while Mickey was seated in the defendant’s chair.
“Well what do we have here?” Bugs wondered aloud.
“Case 1134B, Minnie For Mothers vs. Mickey Mouse and the Walt Disney Corporation,” announced the bailiff.
Bugs chuckled. “This should be interesting. Are you representing yourselves?”
“Yes, your honor,” answered Minnie. “I know the truth and I am more than qualified to share it with the world myself.”
Judge Bugs looked over to Mickey. “And you? I’m sure Disney has a stock room full of lawyers for situations like these.”
“Yes, they do Judge Bugs. But, I want the the children to hear it straight from me that these accusations against me and the company I represent and cherish are a hundred percent false. It is my honor to represent not only myself but the entire Disney corporation.”
“Well ok then. Let’s get started. Minnie, please proceed with opening statements,” said Judge Bugs.
Minnie organized some notes on her desk. She slowly stood up and walked over to stand in front of the jury. She stared at the ground for a few seconds. She smiled broadly as she looked back up at the jury.
“Once upon a time, I, like many of you, loved Mickey Mouse. I believed that he could no wrong. There was an innate goodness and joy in him that I found very appealing. Everything just seemed brighter when he was around. But recently my eyes have been opened and I am here today to tell you that it is all a facade. In reality, Mickey is a misogynistic mouse possibly bent on the destruction of the nuclear family as we know it!”
Gasps echoed through the courtroom.
Minnie continued. “I know it sounds shocking. Yet, when you think about it everything starts to make more sense. When you look through Disney’s enormous catalogue of colorful characters there always seems to be someone missing. That someone is mothers! What do Snow White, Cinderella, Belle, Jasmine, and Pocahontas all have in common? Not only are they Disney Princesses, not one of them has a mother. At least not a biological mother. I formed Minnie For Mothers because I realized the psychological damage done to these characters because of Disney’s horrendous misogynistic tendencies. Ariel’s best friends were a perpetually frightened tropical fish and her father’s servant crab. Jasmine’s best friend was a tiger. Belle fell in love with a beast. While on the surface it seems sweet and lovely, the fact remains that she did not know he was human at the time. Such things defy the laws of nature and are clearly not the actions of someone who is of sound mind. Several state shrinks have assured me that such behavior can be traced back to a lack of a maternal figure. We are suing Disney for punitive damages and hoping for a legally binding contract that will force Disney to insert some mother characters into their stories.”
“Objection!” cried Mickey. “Most of the characters mentioned by Minnie were based off of pre-existing characters from folk literature. Their family predicaments can not be blamed on Disney.”
“Then let’s look at some Disney originals,” snapped Minnie. “Bambi, Tod from Fox and the Hound, Koda from Brother Bear, Nemo. All of these poor animals had to endure their moms being viciously killed in their movies, doing certain damage to their young fragile psyches, all at the behest of the woman hating executives at Disney and their star character, Mickey!”
Another round of gasps circled the courtroom.
“Simba would have probably made this list as well except we all know his life is loosely based on Hamlet so the Disney executives had their hands somewhat tied creatively. I am sure Sarabi is grateful for that.”
“Objection!” shouted Mickey.
Minnie spun on her heel and pointed an accusatory finger. “Don’t you dare bring up the dalmatians, Pongo and Perdita. They are just outliers. Not to mention the fact that Perdita nearly died in childbirth.”
Mickey remained quiet.
“It’s certainly an interesting claim you’re making, Minnie. But, you still haven’t stated how this ties into Mickey specifically,” said Judge Bugs.
“I would be happy to answer that, your honor. To do so I would like to call on my first witness. The prosecution calls Tinker Bell to the stand.”
Tinker Bell quickly darted to the witness stand leaving a trail of twinkling pixie dust in her wake. She stood on the Bible as the bailiff swore her in. Minnie waited for the fairy to settle in.
“Tinker Bell, how long have you been with Disney?” asked Minnie.
“Since 1953,” answered Tinker Bell.
“And in that time you have made quite a name for yourself.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” said Tinker Bell.
“No need to be modest. You have become one of the most prominent icons of the entire Disney empire.”
Tinker Bell blushed.
“Such status must get you into a lot of parties, does it not?” asked Minnie.
“Yes. Many of the top executives invite me often. I think they just want me to sprinkle my fairy dust to liven up the party though.”
“And I’m sure it does. Tinker Bell, would you mind telling the court some of the conversations you overhear while you are at these parties.”
“Sure. They complain a lot. They complain about other companies, about their wives, girlfriends, mothers, and even their secretaries,” Tinker Bell explained.
“Really?” said Minnie.
“Yeah. they also talk about Mickey. Anytime some new movie idea is on the horizon they wonder if Mickey will like it.”
“Why would it be important that Mickey like it?”
“Because he is Mickey Mouse. He is the franchise guy, like in sports. He has the power to veto an idea if he doesn’t like it,” said Tinker Bell. “I heard that he is very particular on what he gives his ok to. He won’t sign off on something he isn’t proud of.”
“Thank you, Tinker Bell. No further questions.”
“Mickey, would you like to cross examine?” asked Judge Bugs.
“You bet I would,” said Mickey.
Mickey approached the witness stand with purpose, but greeted Tinker Bell with his vintage smile.
“Tinker Bell, always lovely to see you.”
“Thanks,” said Tinker Bell.
“My pleasure. Tinker Bell, do you believe that gossip can be a very ugly and dangerous thing?”
Tinker Bell hesitated before answering. “Yes...”
“So do I,” said Mickey. “Because it can lead to things like slander. For instance, someone could say that they overheard of your jealousy over my position. That you secretly want it for yourself. It is not that you are a bad fairy, but it is a wide known fact that because of your body size you can’t balance your emotions very well and being the iconic Disney character that you are, you would have the most to gain by dragging my name through the mud. Of course, I would never believe such awful rumors. I would want to see evidence before believing such a horrible thing which is why I never put too much stock into what other people say.”
Tinker Bell was speechless.
“One more question, Tinker Bell. At these parties that you attended, did you ever once hear me or anyone else say that I despise mothers or females in general?”
Tinker Bell was slow with her response. “No.”
Mickey smiled. “No further questions.”
Judge Bugs nodded at Tinker Bell. “Go ahead and take your seat.”
“Well played, Mickey,” mumbled Minnie. She stood up. “The prosecution calls Huey, Dewey, and Louie to the stand.”
As the triplets made their way to the witness stand, their Uncle Donald had a seizure of emotion in his chair behind Mickey.
“Boys! Boys! What are you doing?!? Don’t go up there!! How can you betray me like this? Betray Mickey?”
As anger spilled out of Donald, his words became incomprehensible and his physical contortions erratic.
“Baliff! Remove that duck! I will not have outbursts like that in my court,” said Judge Bugs.
Huey, Dewey, and Louie slouched in embarrassment as the blue rhino physically removed Donald Duck from the courtroom.
“Sorry boys,” said Minnie. “I’m not trying to cause conflict within your family. In fact, family is what brought you here isn’t it? Why don’t you tell the court about your family life growing up for those who don’t know.”
“Well, we spent most of our childhood with our Uncle Donald and our Uncle Scrooge,” answered Huey. “They were both very kind and generous to take us in. We never made it easy on them. Even Uncle Donald’s girlfriend Daisy has spent some time watching over us.”
“How are you related to your Uncle Donald?” asked Minnie.
“His sister, Della, is our mother,” replied Louie. “Or was our mother. I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“We haven’t seen or heard from her since the 1930s,” explained Huey. “We were just supposed to be visiting Uncle Donald, but we never left.”
“Except for in the late 80s, when we moved in with Uncle Scrooge for awhile,” added Dewey.
“We always have wondered about our mother, but Uncle Donald never wants to talk about it. We thought he was waiting until we got older, but we are older now and still nothing,” said Huey.
The three ducks began to get emotional.
“I remember hearing that Donald is Scrooge’s closest living relative. That would mean that she is.... but we just don’t know,” said Dewey.
“We also tried to ask Mickey about it because Mickey knows everything. But, he is always so busy,” said Louie.
“He’s here now,” remarked Huey.
Louie stared at Mickey. “Mickey! What happened to our mother?”
Mickey appeared visibly uncomfortable.
“I hope we can get an honest answer to that soon. Thank you boys for coming up here and sharing your story. I know it’s not easy.” Minnie looked up to the judge. “No further questions.”
Bugs motioned over to Mickey who shook his head no.
“I think it is obvious what is going on here,” said Minnie. “Mickey has creative control in the house that he built which means there are only two possible options. Mickey is either a complicit partner or the driving force behind Disney’s revolting pattern of countless deaths and mysterious dissapearances of its mother figures throughout its history and even in Mickey’s own inner circle. The prosecution rests.”
Huey, Dewey, and Louie left the witness stand as Minnie Mouse sat down with confidence at her table. Mickey refused to appear shaken.
“Mickey, would you like to take a recess before we continue?” asked Judge Bugs.
“No, your honor.”
Mickey collected himself and rose from his chair. He walked in front of the jurors and turned to face the masses in attendance in the courtroom.
“First of all, I would like to formally apologize to all of you here, including the jurors, and the baliff, and Judge Bugs. This has all been a monumental waste of your time. It is clear that Minnie is angry with me. I am not sure what I did to deserve this venom, but I am saddened that she dragged you all into it. To suggest a conspiracy within Disney against mothers is just ridiculous. Disney has always been and will forever be a family company first. All you have to do is look in a theatre while a Disney movie is playing or visit Disneyland or Disney World to know that I am right. The deaths that Minnie refers to in our movies, while tragic, are purely coincidental. If anything, they speak to the ability to overcome displayed by many of our heroes and heroines. An important trait to teach the children. Answer me this? If Disney hated mothers so much why would we make Ariel a mother herself in the sequel, The Little Mermaid II: Return to Sea, now available on DVD? But you don’t have to take my word for it. You can take the word of someone that no one would accuse of having an ulterior motive. The defense calls Goofy to the stand.”
Goofy clumsily stood up from his chair. He mixed up his right hand and left hand three times during the swearing in process. As he approached the witness stand, he slipped and fell in face first taking out the microphone with him.
Judge Bugs buried his face in his hand. “Baliff, will you please assist the witness.”
Once Goofy became situated, Mickey began to engage him.
“Goofy, how long have we known each other?”
Goofy counted on his fingers. “I would have to say it’s been about eighty years now.”
“In those eighty years have you ever heard me say any disparaging comments about mothers or females in general?” asked Mickey.
“Gee golly no! You are one of the kindest, most generous characters I have ever met. That is why you are my best friend.” Goofy beamed with pride.
“Thanks, Goofy. What about anyone else associated with Disney?”
“Ok. Now I want you to think really hard, Goofy. Can you ever remember a time before just recently where the treatment of mothers was an issue at the Magical Kingdom?”
“No. I can’t say that any occasion comes to mind,” answered Goofy.
“Thank you, Goofy.” Mickey turned to face his accuser. “Your witness.”
“Very predictable, Mickey,” whispered Minnie. She pulled a photo from a manilla envelope. “And unfortunately very short sighted.”
Minnie approached the witness stand.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you wear a suit, Minnie,” said Goofy.
“Do you like it?”
Goofy gushed, “Gawrsh, I think you look great.”
Minnie lifted the picture in her hand so just Goofy could see it. “Can you tell me who this is?”
“Why that’s my son, Max. My pride and joy,” answered Goofy.
“Where is Max right now?” asked Minnie.
“Maxie is in college. He was always so smart.”
“You must be very proud.”
“I am. I can talk about it all day if you let me.”
“I’m sure you could, Goofy,” said Minnie. “How does Max’s mom feel about him being in college?”
Mickey let out an audible groan of realization. Goofy’s face dropped.
“Where is Max’s mom, Goofy?”
Goofy did not reply.
“Do you know who Max’s mom is?”
Goofy remained silent. He stared at the ground as he finally answered. “Her name was Mrs. Goofy. She did off camera work during some cartoons in the 50s. No one ever got a chance to see how beautiful she was. My son’s name was Goofy Jr. at the time. I was so excited to have a family. So excited.” Goofy paused. “One day Mickey told me that Disney wanted to focus on other aspects of my character and my family was put on hold. But, he promised me that one day I would get my family back. In 1992, I was given my son back for a new show to be called Goof Troop. Mickey told me that Mrs. Goofy would not be coming back and he wanted me to call my son Max now so there would be no confusion with the cartoons from the 50s. Mickey said we were going to show the world a new kind of family.”
“None of this seemed strange to you?” asked Minnie.
“Gawrsh! Lots of things seem strange to me. But I will always trust Mickey’s judgment.”
“Does Max ask about his mother?”
“All the time.”
“Do you still think about her?”
“All the time.”
The court room was quiet. Goofy lifted his head and there was an unfamiliar expression on it that Minnie had never seen on Goofy. It was genuine sadness.
“No further questions, your honor.” Minnie began walking back to her chair. She tilted her head back and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Goofy.”
Judge Bugs shook his head. He stared at Mickey. “Would you like to call another witness?”
Mickey stood up and sighed. “No. My other witness was forcibly removed from the courthouse. I would just like to say that I know it looks bad, but you have to believe me there is no malicious intent at Disney towards mothers and there is certainly no malice coming from me. If people have learned anything today, I hope it is that although we always put our best foot forward and greet every day with a smile, the characters of Disney have clearly gone through their fair share of suffering. Please, don’t add to it by giving credence to this frivolous lawsuit. The defense rests.”
“Wow! Just wow! You guys have one screwed up operation going on over here. Now it is in the hands of the jury. Until they arrive at a decision, this court is in recess,” announced Judge Bugs.
Posted 11 August 2012 - 08:39 PM
Insurance for Life
Punisher War Journal July 22, 2012: Khazan
"Frank. Are you ready?"
I had placed the earpiece in my ear myself, but even so, the sudden sound is surprising. I find my right hand on my .44 Magnum before I even think about it. I've been doing this for so long. Have to relax. Can't go in shooting like a madman. At least, not yet.
The voice on my earpiece asks me if I'm ready to go inside. I ignore the voice. The Batman probably isn't used to being ignored. Funny thing here, almost makes one laugh. The Punisher and the Batman, working together. I probably won't give him a friendship bracelet anytime soon, but we've swallowed our differences for tonight. Like every other hero in this city, he probably hates my methods. But I don't do what I do for anyone's approval. I do it for the regular joe. The average guy. The type of guys who worry about their cars and whether the mechanic is ripping them off. The guys who play catch with their sons and worry about who their daughters go out with. The type of guy I could have been.
With these thoughts in my head, I entered Khazan's Premiere Insurance Store.
Frank Castle opens the door and steps inside. On the monitor, I switch to the store's internal cameras and carefully focus on him. Suddenly, Oracle's voice comes in.
"How's the mission going Bruce?"
I go through a couple hundred phrases. Working with the Punisher is an awful idea. You're sure Dick couldn't get here? I should have done this alone.
"Everything's going as planned. The Punisher is entering the insurance office now."
"Oh, that's great. But Bruce, what exactly are you doing running a mission with the Punisher?"
I don't know. Poor planning on my part. Why didn't I think of a better plan? He's crazy.
"The Punisher's Battle Van was crashed into a gas station earlier this week. As you know, around the same time, the Batmobile was involved in a similar incident. In both cases, there was no driver. I wouldn't have gone to him just because of that, but reports have been coming in of people having unnatural bad luck for the last month. Serious property damage is reported. And then this new insurance mega store opens up? It's too suspicious."
I hear Oracle try to hold back her laughter. A few seconds later and she comes back, her voice still filled with amusement.
"Okay Bruce. I'm assuming it's a slow night over in Khazan?"
Now I'm the one holding back laughter. Khazan. The nexus of all reality. Having a slow night?
Suddenly, I see Frank approach the checkpoint. It's time.
"I have to go Oracle. I'll call you in an hour."
As I walk in, I do my usual scan. Batman and I already went over the store's layout, but habits are hard to break. It's built like a maze. Everything in Khazan always is. Aflac, GEICO, and all the other major insurance agencies have their little set ups scattered throughout the place. On the outside, the store couldn't be bigger than your local Starbucks, but thanks to Khazan technology (a mix of Skrull, Kree, and anything else you can imagine) the place could easily fit in a couple Wal-Marts.
"Hello sir. How can I help you?"
I'm suppose to be angry. Get myself in trouble. Batman snoops around in the back and gets the info on this place. We bust the guy responsible for all the damages. Not my usual job, and not the usual plan, but this place isn't your usual place. I have a bad feeling about it, and I can tell the Bat feels the same.
The girl from the Progressive commercials is smiling at me. She's smiling at everyone. What's wrong with this place?
"Sir, can I help you?"
I look up, anger building. But suddenly, I'm not angry. Before me is the calmest looking guy in the entire world. It's the african american president from 24, and the guy from all the Allstate commercials. I'm in good hands.
"... I-... I'm looking for some car insurance."
What? No I'm not! Why did I say that?
"Of course. Here, let me show you some of our affordable plans. Remember, with Allstate, you're in good hands."
The man smiles at me and begins to take out some pamphlets or something. I try to frown, to shout, to reach out and punch him. Anything. But I can't. I start to sweat. What's going on?
"See, this is our most popular plan."
He points at something. I look him in the eyes. His face is smiling, but his eyes are grinning. He knows what he's doing to me. I can't fight this feeling. I feel like a small child.
"Sir. I said, this is our most popular plan. Don't you want to look at it?"
I grit my teeth. My neck wants to move. Wants me to look at the paper. I fight it with all my might. He's still smiling. Now I'm smiling. Why am I smiling? Oh god, I'm looking down. What's going on?!
Frank's conversation comes in and it's not at all what we rehearsed. I realize something's wrong. He's talking about boat insurance with the salesman. As I walk in, my bat suit under a regular suit, I make a beeline towards where he is. However, Flo, the girl from the Progressive commercials, steps in my way.
"Hello good sir! I see you're heading to Allstate but we have sooooo many better offers."
"No thanks Flo-..."
"GAH! You know my name!"
Flo swoons and tries to grab onto my shoulders. I step back and she falls head first into the ground. I probably should have caught her.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry ma'm. Here, let me help you up."
Reaching down to help her, I'm surprised by her quick reflexes. She grips my arm tightly as she stands. Her face is no longer of an annoying beaming girl but of a terrified woman.
"You have to get out of here! Look... I don't know how you snapped me out of my programming, but this place isn't what you think."
I search her eyes for any trace of the joking Flo I've seen on tv, but there is only fear. Fear and truth.
"Sir, please believe me. I don't know how long I'll be myself. This entire place is owned by a very small very rich very dangerous organization. It only appears like there's competition among different insurance groups. It's all a lie. You have to call the police. Call the military. Call someone!"
Suddenly, Flo begins to jerk violently. I grab her arms trying to help her keep her balance.
"Flo! Stay with me. Who's leading this?"
Her head shakes back and forth. She begins to say all sorts of things.
"GAH! I love working here! Th-th-th-th-eeee BEST part of working here is meeting new people!"
She looks at me and smiles, then frowns, then smiles again. She begins to say something else but instead faints. I've seen this type of brainwashing before. It's very old and usually destroys the victim's mind. This isn't what we thought.
"Oh my gosh! He hurt Flo!" a voice cries out.
Looking up, I see various insurance employees getting closer. When I came in, there seemed to be an even mix of men and women of various ages. Now, only angry men seem to work here. I sling Flo over my should and run towards Frank. He's talking about helicopter insurance now. Obviously, the guy he's talking with isn't your average salesman.
"Why, hello sir. And what can I do for you?"
The man turns to me and I begin to slow down. Whatever he did to Frank, he's doing to me now. Before I lose all will, I do the only thing I can. I throw Flo's body at him, which knocks him out immediately.
That seems to snap Frank out of it too.
"Frank, this whole place is not what we thought. The insurance companies are all owned by a the same people. They're the ones behind the accidents throughout Khazan."
That's the last thing I'm able to say to Frank before it all starts going downhill. At that moment, a powerful alarm buzzes throughout the building. Metal bars emerge, sealing off the windows and doors. The tough looking employees are all smiling now. The ones located behind desks begin to pull out shotguns and automated weapons.
I throw down some smoke pellets and hope Frank knows to get down. I hear him begin to say something, but his words are drowned out by the shooting. Bullets whiz through my makeshift cover, barely missing my head. I scramble for cover behind a desk as I reach for the mask in my suit's inside pocket...
The Bat was smart. His smokescreen was the only thing that kept us from biting the dust right there and then. I'll send him a fruit basket later.
As I run for the Progressive section's maze of shelves, I shoot as many lights as I can. The grunts all give cries of surprise as the majority of the building goes dark. The lights that I didn't get give the area only minimum lighting. Perfect.
"He's in the shelves area, get him!"
The grunts rush forward, apparently unaware of who I am. Whipping out twin uzis, I unload on the mindless horde and make the local undertaker a rich man. Two waves of grunts later and the whole place is going crazy. They stop rushing into the opening in front of me, maybe because they're smart or maybe because they're scared. Either way, I dont wait around. Running deeper into the Progressive area, I try to shoot more lights.
Suddenly a British voice shouts something at me. Maybe it's Australian. I can't tell. Spinning around, I aim at the Geico Gecko. I never imagined I'd ever find myself aiming at a talking gecko.
"Wait! Don't shoot!" he says. Oh, if I had a dime for every time I heard that. As always, I shoot anyways. Blood and small green parts fly everywhere.
"YOU SHOT HIM!!!"
The voice startles me, but not quite as much as the punch that follows. Recovering from the hit, I find myself face to face with the Geico Caveman. He's not angry about being called dumb now. Instead, he's just angry. And strong.
"IMMA KILL YOU!" He shouts out. Again, another classic phrase.
Before I can take aim, he's at me again. One single punch sends me flying into a shelf. My guns slip out of my hand, but at least I don't let the darkness take me. I'm groggy, yeah, but at least I'm still awake for when he wraps his hairy hands around my neck. I've been in this position before though, so before he can get a good grip, I throw my hand up and poke his eyes. A childish move? Maybe. But the Caveman does what they all do. He screams and grabs his face. Taking advantage of the moment, I give him a good kick to his sensitive parts and throw him off.
I reach for my old friend, who's all loaded and ready to help. However, before I can give him the final blow, a voice shouts out from behind me.
"Hello Punisher! Welcome to Progressive! How can I help you???!!"
It's Flo. Flo from those commercials. Flo with an RPG.
I dive for cover and the projectile barely goes over my left shoulder. It hits another shelf and explodes, sending wood and general debris in all directions. I whip out my gun and aim to where Flo was, but now she's gone. Or maybe she's still here. I can't tell with all the smoke.
Suddenly, a hand grabs my shoulder. It clamps down hard and begins to crush some bones. My gun drops to the floor as pain fills my mind. I fling my head back, breaking the Caveman's nose. He lets go, and I crash forward reaching blindly for my gun.
"Progressive will suit all your needs!" Flo shouts out. I look up just in time to see her take aim.
Just then, for absolutely no reason, the wall besides us explodes. I grab my gun and do my best to roll with the blast's wave. Concrete and debris falls from all around as other explosions rock the building.
I struggle to stay on my feet...
"Where is he?!"
Whether they're corporate goons or just muggers on the streets, criminals are all the same. Full of fear. They fear because they know what I am. I am the justice they can't escape from.
I sweep down, delivering a punch to the man's jaw. He's unconscious before he hits the floor. I disappear into the shadows again, leaving the other goons to shoot blindly. They're easy pickings.
Suddenly, I hear a voice.
"It's the middle of an epic battle between good and evil, and you think you have the whole thing figured out. But I'm the crazy guy who planted bombs all over the place. They're about to go off. And your cut rate insurance may not cover this. So switch to Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem. Like me."
I look up and see Mayhem. He looks down at me from a metal beam and smiles. He presses a button on his watch and the whole game changes. I shoot out a cable to grab onto the metal beam, but the desk besides me explodes, sending me flying. Elsewhere, various other places explode as well. The insurance employees run around like headless chickens, but it doesn't matter where they run. Bombs seem to be everywhere. One after another, they go off, sending concrete and bodies flying.
Speaking of flying, I barely hang on to my own lifeline as it automatically zips me up. I swing over the metal beam and land as gracefully as I can. The blast left me disoriented, but at least it's just me and Mayhem now.
"Hello Batman. I'm Erin Esurance." A voice says. I turn around and see a woman land on the metal beam with the grace only trained individuals possess. She pulls out a handgun.
I look back at Mayhem, but he has disappeared. Where he'll appear next, I don't know. Turning back to Erin, I reach down for a batarang...
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