February Writing Competition (Winners Announced!)

A great opportunity for writers to showcase their talent.

Moderators: Feral Female, Miles_Warren, Feral Female, Miles_Warren

February Writing Competition (Winners Announced!)

Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

01 Feb 2015, 18:33 #1

Welcome to the February writing competition :guitar: Please read the rules before entering

http://z3.invisionfree.com/Mickeys_Comi ... opic=11460

Some important info for this month:

1) Entrants have until February 24th 4pm EST to submit an entry for the competition

2) Voting will then open for entrants before closing on February 26th 4pm EST

3) Voting for non-entrants will then open before closing on February 27th 4pm EST

Best of luck to all entrants


Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

01 Feb 2015, 18:50 #2

By the way guys if I owe any previous writing comp winners a prize (such as a signature etc) could they let me know and I will gladly give it to them. The last couple of months have been hectic for me but things are starting to settle down now.

In fact I may even find time to finish writing a story I have been working months on lol

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

01 Feb 2015, 19:29 #3

Miles_Warren @ Feb 1 2015, 12:50 PM wrote: By the way guys if I owe any previous writing comp winners a prize (such as a signature etc) could they let me know and I will gladly give it to them. The last couple of months have been hectic for me but things are starting to settle down now.

In fact I may even find time to finish writing a story I have been working months on lol
Hey, Miles. How about creating a thread with only one post listing all of the winners and their number of wins?

Such as....

"Mickey's Fan-Fiction Writing Contest Winners

Feral Female - 6 wins
GreenScar1990 - 5 wins

To keep the list always up front and available, only you (or Feral) could update it.

Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

01 Feb 2015, 21:13 #4

I've been honestly toying around with that idea for a while BT. Creating a sort of league table for the winners. But there are already too many stickied threads in this forum and I'm not too keen on creating another. Perhaps merging the league table in another thread would suffice. Or perhaps removing the "List of Past Winners" in the Hall of Fame and placing the table there.


Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

02 Feb 2015, 11:01 #5

I'll toss my bonnet into the ring again this month!

Joined: 26 Nov 2007, 16:50

02 Feb 2015, 16:06 #7

definitely tossing my hat in again his round.

Joined: 28 Apr 2014, 11:02

04 Feb 2015, 06:12 #8

Yep, same here. I'll be posting Ultimate Flash #2. :D
Outstanding Marvel Team Up - your favourite heroes (and villains) all in one fan fic!

Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

04 Feb 2015, 10:41 #9

Heavy Metal - Issue # 12 - Haunted

(I own nothing that isn`t mine.)

There is adult language in this issue. If that offends, do not read any further.


You know what is beyond super cool? Having a suit of armor that can do amazing things like fly and shoot rockets at bad guys. Know what is even further beyond super cool? Being able to do everything a suit of funky black and silver armor can do with your mind. I hate to admit it, but I've always been a bit jealous of Adam Summers. When we were younger and he led the Defenders, he seemed larger than life. I spent many a night cursing my, as I saw it then, inferior brain.

Now that I had grown a little older, my envy wasn`t about him being taller, better looking, more muscular, and steely-jawed. Well maybe the steely-jawed part still got to me a bit. No, what really made me a bit jealous was how hard Dad and I had to work to build suits and Adam simply had to think it. That was why my father coveted Extremis so, even if it generally seemed to be a curse. It made him more than human. It amped him up, and it made his body and mind as close to a machine as it could get and not be a T-1000. I had yet to see what his Extremis-infused genes had done for me. They certainly hadn`t given me any insight into getting the SNAP`s working any better.

I glanced over my shoulder when the barrage of bullets stopped. Adam stood up, helped his woman to her tiny white boots, and then stalked around me.

"You need to get that thing a tune-up," Summers said as he checked each unconscious hood by booting them in the ribs. "I don`t remember it being so dangerous before."

" It sat in moth balls for a couple years." That was about the lamest excuse ever. It was true, but lame. "I'm still working out the kinks. Is he going to be okay?"

Rhianna nodded then continued to gently pat Wolverine`s stubby cheek. The surly mutant grumbled something about beer and hockey then sat up as if someone had crammed a cattle prod into the back of boxers. Those brutally cold blue eyes latched onto me.

"You're a fucking menace," Wolverine snarled.

"Logan!" Rhianna gasped then fell back to her rump when the short man pushed to his feet.

"He's trying to help," Adam piped up, planting his formidable self between Logan and me, which instantly pissed me off. I shoved the wall of muscle aside.

" I don`t need your help, Summers. This little shit doesn`t scare me."

Wolverine rolled a lip to show some fang. Pfft. Fangs don`t scare me. Peke-A-Poo`s have fangs and they`re not particularly scary. My reboot fired to life. All my scans came online. My HUD began showing me a video of some dude named David Lee Roth dancing on a beach in a blue tuxedo as he waxed poetic about California girls. Where was all this crap music coming from? My eyes darted from Roth to the glowing heat indicator that was spiking up at an incredible rate. I turned to look at the door. It had drifted closed. Two Lips was on the other side powering up.

I did what I had to do. I threw my arms around the three mutants, prayed for a shield that would withstand the explosion that was about to take place, and then put my shoulder to the wall. The impact jarred the fillings in my teeth. Short incredible bursts of speed tend to do that. The cinderblock crumbled. Logan peppered me with expletives as we exploded out of the wall then tumbled down to the street. A flash of light followed our hasty departure. I watched our shadows racing at us. Logan wiggled free. Adam did as well. I flipped to my back, holding Rhianna close, then hit the sidewalk with force. My brain bounced around inside my skull. I opened my eyes, saw the side of the hotel falling down over us, then rolled to the left, tossing my arm and leg over Rhianna.

Mayhem ensued. A wave of nausea overcame me and I scrabbled to get away from Rhianna. Her brown eyes were wide, and her cheeks covered with plaster dust. I crawled to the curb then prayed that my visor would open in time. It did, thank God.

"Alex!" I heard Rhianna somewhere in the distance. My head was pounding. Logan was shouting to Skippy about needed back up and a clean-up crew. I emptied my stomach into a storm drain as screaming people raced past. "Adam!" Rhianna shouted, closer now. I lifted my head, the motion causing my vision to blur terribly, and drug the back of my gauntlet across my mouth.

Adam wrestled with a fiery ball of mutant energy that had to be Two Lips. Or a small super nova. I opted to think it was Two Lips. Rhianna slapped a hand to my brow. The shock wave of pain nearly caused me to pass out. The concussion that I assumed I was nursing sucked. A warm wave began to seep into my head, the white hot agony of the world`s worse headache easing up Then it stopped. Rhianna left my side. I winced as the thumping resumed but staggered to my feet. Her touch had helped a bit. Not much, but enough to get a bearing on Adam and Two Lips about fifty feet above us, exchanging meaty punches as the civilians went bat-shit nuts.

I raised my right hand. It swayed side to side, as my body did. If I could just get a shot in without hitting Adam . . . the repulsor disc on my palm hummed. It was a nice sound. I liked it. I didn`t like seeing two blown-up buildings where there should only be one, but you know, we deal with what we have to deal with. Adam`s big body blew away from the glowing orb that was Two Lips. His wide back slammed into the street. I fired off three short blasts then fell off the curb, my balance shot in the ass. I dropped to one knee and tried to get a couple intelligent thoughts lined up. Rerouting all power to flight, I streaked skyward. I hit the round mass then bounced off it, flipping around in mid-air. It took several harsh swallows to keep from hurling inside Metal. A white-hot blast of energy streaked past me. I fired up the boots and streaked into the clouds. Two Lips followed, his energy sig nearly blinding me as it lit up my HUD.

My first priority, aside from trying not to toss my cookies again, was to get Two Lips away from the masses. The fastest way to do that was head out over the ocean despite it being kind of cliché. He was fast. The distance between us kept shrinking. Maybe if I concentrated on Roth singing, it would help keep the bile in my gut. My vision was a mess. Reading the scans was nearly impossible. That`s what I'm going to blame my collision with a large black jet on. Granted, they were cloaked as tightly as a virginal Klingon, but if my brains hadn`t been scrambled, I would have probably seen a blip. I clipped the wing of the black bird, did a rollover, and then sort of cascaded toward the ocean.

Actually, cascading isn`t the right word. Cascading would be a leaf caught on a breeze as it tumbles and cascades to earth. Metal and I fell like a freaking rock out of the sky, my warning bells chiming as I lost altitude. I jerked inside the suit when something grabbed me out of midair before I hit the sea. Things went black for a moment as my ears popped with a loud "BAMF!" sound. My armor sucked in a vile cloud of acrid air then the lights came back on.

"Try not to fall asleep, Meister Stark."

"S-kay," I replied then lurched from the arms cradling me. I face planted inside the X-Men`s jet, gagged a time or two, and then looked up to see Nightcrawler crouched in front of me, a worried look on his unique face. "I'm good," I lied. "Bad nachos for breakfast, " I added when the mutant didn`t seem to buy the first fib. With a bit of assistance I got to my feet. My goal was the cockpit, but I never quite made it that far. The jet slammed into a cement wall, or so it felt. The blackbird lurched upward and I rolled backwards, tumbling down the walkway, head bouncing off seats and floor. Passing out sounded like a good idea. I would have if not for the fact that something big, bright, and angry was melting a hole into the side of the ebony jet.

"You certainly know how to irritate a villain," Kurt snarled then disappeared in a noxious cloud.

"It`s an inherited gift," I groaned as papers and a candy bar wrapper flew past me out into the wild blue yonder. Whoever was flying the jet sounded a great deal like Scott Summers. Who knew a headmaster could talk like that? I sat up slowly, trying to get my brain fluid to stop spinning. My scans announced a large energy presence incoming. I dove to the left. A gaping hole appeared in the floor where I had just been, the metal liquified as if it the sun had reached out to touch that spot with a fiery finger.

"Shit," I mumbled. The glowing ball entered the jet. Red and blue lights were flashing. Cyclops was shouting from the front and I was shimmying between padded seats to try to avoid being melted like a butter pat on a hot griddle. "Shit. Shit. Shit." The seat behind me evaporated. Bits of flaming fluff swirled around the jet. I pushed my back against a seat, braced my legs and lifted my hands. The jet dove sharply. My shots hit a little wide, so I fired off another couple of rounds. My repulsors didn`t seem to have any effect. Two Lips absorbed them then added the energy to his star/nova/whatever-the-hell-it-is power.

Someone pushed on the top of my head. It hurt really badly. I swatted at the hand jamming my helmet down into my skull. A brilliant ruby red light filled the interior of the rapidly falling jet. Two Lips left the building. Cyclops grabbed at the back of my neck, shouting words at me that I couldn`t understand because my head hurt so damn much.

"Fly!" he barked as he hauled me to the gaping maw that Two Lips had created. I turned to look at him. He shoved me out of the jet. It took Metal a full second or two to calibrate and correct my positioning. The world dimmed then brightened. The blackbird raced downward, smoke and fire trailing behind it. I looked for life signs on my scans. There were several, some in the ocean, some in the air. One massive energy sig was streaking away from the area. I thought about a speed boost to catch Two Lips, but the thought got muddy. I got my sorry backside over the beach. My landing scared a couple of seagulls who had been pecking at a discarded hot dog. I think I passed out on that half-eaten hot dog. Talk about a slap to the ego.


When I came around, I did two things. Groan and whimper. Then I forced an eye open, wondering if I'd be looking into the face of a blue cat with glasses. Nope. No blue cat this time, which was, you know, kind of a letdown. It would beat the clinically cold cubicle I was in now. The sounds of a busy hospital filtered through the steady thump-thump-thump inside my skull. I patted myself down. Armor gone. Again. I sat up. Then fell backwards faster than I had gotten upright. My stomach roiled in anger. A hand rested on my shoulder, gently pushing me back to my pillow.

"I won`t move again," I croaked. Squeaky shoes hurried past the green and blue privacy curtain. The air was thick with the aroma of sickness and disinfectant.

"Good. The last time you tried to sit up you vomited all over the nurse."

I rolled my head gently to the right and saw my father seated in a chair that was equally as ugly as the privacy curtain.

"Hi Dad," I forced out. My mouth tasted like a cat had used it for a litter box. My throat was arid. My head hurt, and my father was here, looking at me in that way that father`s do when they can`t decide if they want to shout or hug the stuffing out of you.

Let`s hope he was here for hugging. I didn`t think my head could handle shouting.

To be continued . . . .

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 08:56

06 Feb 2015, 09:30 #10

I'm not sure I'll be able to enter this month. I may or I may not. I've got some things to do, and I was hoping to get more work done on my 1st novel. Needless to say, I'll make sure to take time to at least read everyone's entries.

Best of luck to all of you! :friends: [happy]


Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

06 Feb 2015, 14:56 #11

Still debating what I'm going to enter. Maybe an existing chapter from MSW, MSW: Arsenal, a new chapter for MSW: Hulk or MSW: Punisher (I haven't written a new chapter for that series in a long time!) or one of my new chapters from MSW: Eye of the Hurricane.

Or, I might make a stand alone: Marvel Star Wars: Daffy Duck meets the Hulk...I'm not sure about that one.

Superpowered Human
Superpowered Human
Joined: 07 Dec 2011, 15:23

07 Feb 2015, 00:26 #12

I Own Nothing Which Is Not Mine

X-Pansion #78:

He was crazy stupid to have teleported across the Atlantic Ocean the X-Pansion X-Man codenamed Variable realized as he was heaving air while on his hands and knees.

"Never – Again," he barely managed on a whisper having over-exerted himself. The initial long-distance ‘port was dangerous enough but when gravity kicked in while he was in mid-air to avoid materializing in anything solid on the ground, he relied on instinct instead of wit for the secondary ‘port to the ground and it scared him to feel just that slight bit of being out of control.

Not many minutes before he was in his room at the X-Pansion X-Men team headquarters. While his two best compadres Lightning and Pace slept, the shape-shifting, teleporting mutant went off on his own without telling them. Something had been nagging at his thoughts since his other two teammates, Marvelous and Luminar, had taken off on a vacation. Now that there were no bad guys to beat down, that nagging grew intolerable so he acted upon it.

"Hey, buddy? You okay?" [translated from the local dialogue]

Variable looked up with wide eyes at the man who'd dared put a hand on his shoulder. He appeared to be a local fisherman wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans. A bucket of water and a net on a pole were at the man's feet. With heart still racing and breath still heavy and quick, all Variable could do was nod and wave the man off.

"You don't look so well, let me call for a medic," the fisherman said to him.

"NO!" Variable yelled sternly understanding a little of what the man in front of him was saying but then started to succumb to his condition, "no let me..."

"At least let me help you stand," the local man offered, holding out the hand which a moment ago had been on the shapeshifting teleporter's shoulder. The latter reluctantly agreed.

"Thank you," Variable said with a nod, which the man returned.

"That's some funny outfit you're wearing," the man mentioned pointing to it, eyeing Variable warily, "You some sort of special services?"

"Oh, this?" Variable replied tugging at it, "Just a vibrant exercise suit. On vacation, went for a jog, over did it, y'know?" the X-Man smiled sheepishly, "Guess I should be getting back to the wife. Thank you again for your help." Variable extended his own hand this time and the men exchanged a handshake, but the fisherman still eyed the newcomer with suspicion. Who goes for a run in heavy bright yellow boots?

Once he had rounded the corner of a building and could no longer be seen in the alley by anyone, Variable morphed into more acceptable street clothes. His heart rate and breathing had recovered but his brain more and more felt as if it were being squeezed smaller by his skull. He attributed this new ailment not to his over-exertion but to what made him make such a crazy decision in the first place:

It was that damn head carving.

The very same bust rumored to empower whomever possessed it and Variable sensed it beckoning him.

Back at their headquarters, Lightning and Pace were surprised to find Variable had disappeared.

"Last I knew he was in his room before bedtime," Pace stated.

"And he didn't say anything to you?" Lightning wondered.


The pair tried again to reach Variable on their comm-link with no answer.

"Maybe he wanted to start his vacation early," Pace mentioned as the pair made their way through the building.

"That's not like him to disappear like that, though. Once we get down to it, I'll try tracking him with Cerebro, maybe it can locate where he is."

"Guess this means vacation's over before it began," Pace muttered sarcastically, "Thanks a lot, Variable."

The adventurers strode right to the War Room and joined Marvelous and Luminar at the round table.

"Variable's gone missing," Lightning announced.

"Probably just wanted to start vacation early," Marvelous replied.

"That's what Pace said," Lightning stated, "We're gonna search for his signature but he's a teleporter. No telling where he ran off to."

"Any idea where he might have headed?" Marvelous, head honcho and man responsible for his team, asked those present. All he got in return were shaking heads and a "No" from Lightning.

"He hadn't mentioned wanting to go anywhere," Lightning added.

"He was acting a little weird just before we left for the Atlantic City mission," Pace noted.

"Weird how?" Marvelous asked.

"Something on TV had his undivided attention. We had to nearly yell at him to come along," the speedster explained.

"Well, he is a TV junkie," Luminar said.

"What was on?"

"Just the news. Mentioned something about a cruise ship exploding," Lightning answered thinking back, "Hey, that wasn't you guys was it?"

"Yeah," Mark, Marvelous, deadpanned.

"What happened? Luminar go nuclear again?" Lightning asked not intending any harm.

"You can go pound sand!" Luminar admonished her electrically gifted teammate; cheeks reddened and eyes glistening. Mark gently squeezed her to him in his left arm.

"Sorry!" Lightning apologized, "Forgive me. It was stupid to ask."

"It's okay," the lady whispered head down. Mark gave his love a peck on her head.

"It was a terrorist bomb from a guy who tried killing us," Mark explained.

"Chased us all the way across a deserted island taking all those other passengers as collateral damage," Luminar added.

"We don't know that for sure," Mark said softly to her, then in his normal tone asked Lightning, "Did it say how many were saved?"

"Not that we noticed at the time," Pace answered, "But then this story about some weird head carving came on and that's when we were leaving."

"So what do you think had Variable so entranced?"

"It almost seemed like the carving to be honest," Pace replied, "Sorry."

"Think you could recognize it?" Mark asked.

"Maybe?" Pace offered, not instilling hope in any of them.

Luminar was already tapping away at a computer keyboard, "Here's a coincidence. The same bust is mentioned in two separate incidents relatively close together chronologically but a few thousand miles apart."

"Where and when?" Mark wanted to know.

"The most recent was on the Northwest shore of the Mediterranean just a couple days ago and the older one was a sinking a couple years before that on the opposite side of Africa on the edge of the Indian Ocean."

"Anything special about this bust that it mesmerized our teammate and journey some three thousand miles seemingly on its own?"

"It's said to have supernatural power but it curses whomever comes in contact with it."

The four heroes made eye contact from their respective stances.

"You don't think Variable's still doing secret work for Sebastian Shaw do you?" Lightning wondered.

While off the coast of Genoa, Italy, their shape-changing, teleporting teammate rubbed his head wishing the migraine would go away. He could sense the Head of Carteghena had been there; even heard some rumblings from people in the seaside village about it's cursed power; briefly seen the burned out hulk of a mansion atop a hill above town before the compression in his head became so great it forced him to squint from then on. So what had happened to it? Someone else must have the Head. The Head he needed to take possession of because its power was so great no one could be trusted with it. It was up to Variable to protect the world from the evil Head of Carteghena...

Joined: 28 Apr 2014, 11:02

07 Feb 2015, 00:36 #13

A good read, Mister Oz! I enjoyed seeing these characters interact and it is clear that through the series you've gotten a really solid handle on them. 78 issues! That's incredible! The dialogue was what stood out to me the most, since there was quite a lot of it, and you wrote it really well. :D
Big Thunder! @ Feb 7 2015, 12:56 AM wrote: Still debating what I'm going to enter. Maybe an existing chapter from MSW, MSW: Arsenal, a new chapter for MSW: Hulk or MSW: Punisher (I haven't written a new chapter for that series in a long time!) or one of my new chapters from MSW: Eye of the Hurricane.

Or, I might make a stand alone: Marvel Star Wars: Daffy Duck meets the Hulk...I'm not sure about that one.
I'd read the Sith out of that!
Outstanding Marvel Team Up - your favourite heroes (and villains) all in one fan fic!

Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

07 Feb 2015, 11:29 #14

Another great issue of X-Pansion, MO!

If you have a novel to complete, Green Scar, I say complete the novel. We'll be here next month if you have it done.

Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

07 Feb 2015, 16:59 #15

Anther great issue of Heavy Metal Feral and it is great to see you back in the comp MO :friends:


Holy...! You are writing a novel GS? Let me know when it is done. I'll be sure to buy 10 copies :lol3:

Joined: 28 Apr 2014, 11:02

07 Feb 2015, 22:36 #16

Two years ago, in a freak chemical accident, I came in contact with something known as the Speed Force, turning me into the fastest man alive. Today, I use my position in the Police Department and my unique powers as the Flash, to defend my home: Central City.

xMatt Presents…
The Ultimate Flash #2
A New Kind of Enemy – Conclusion: “The Trail”

“So, you’re first crime scene investigation,” Iris said, as she walked through the yellow tape, showing her credentials. The officers let her though, waving her in. She walked over to Barry, straight away. “Nervous?”

Iris belonged to the media relations unit of the CCPD, which granted her almost limitless access to crime scenes and witness reports. Working as the first point of contact between the police and the media, it was her job to generally be the first on the scene and take all accounts, before presenting them to the news outlets. This meant that she spent more time out in the field, than she did at the office.

Barry wouldn’t admit it, but it was one of the main reasons why he worked so hard for the promotion. More time spent with Iris, was time well spent.

“Not really,” Barry answered. “I’m good at this, Iris. It’s why I was promoted. So I’m confident I can help, but…”

Furrowing her brow, she pressed, “But what?”

“It’s the circumstances of the case, that’s all,” Barry sighed. He chose his words with caution. “I mean, the Flash was here. And he couldn’t stop him. That’s, well, it’s troubling, to say the least.”

“Well he’s not a super man,” Iris chuckled, placing a hand on Barry’s shoulder. She then, joked, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m sure he’s a got a Mrs. Flash out there somewhere, worrying for him instead.”

“If only,” Barry mumbled.

Not hearing him, Iris asked, “So, who do you think is taking the case? Berlanti and Guggenheim both retired a couple of weeks ago; they’re usually at the top of the list.”

“I don’t know,” Barry answered, honestly. “I just hope it’s not that Thawne guy.”

Iris dropped her jaw, in shock. “What’s this? Is this Barry Allen telling me he doesn’t like someone?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Barry defended himself. “And from what I hear, he’s a great cop. It’s just…”

“Come on, Barry,” Iris pressed, nudging him with her elbow. She wore a sly, almost child-like grin, as she added, “We tell each other everything. Now that you’ve started you can’t just stop!”

“The guy is an attention-seeker, that’s all,” Barry replied, shrugging once. “It’s like he’s a cop just so can end up on the news for being a good guy. That’s not what being a good guy is about.”

Iris shrugged. “I don’t mind him. Besides, he’s a lot better to look at during the media press conferences I help run than Berlanti and Guggenheim were. Those guys really let themselves go…”

“Look, like I said, Thawne is a great cop…”

“Aw, thanks rookie!”

Barry bowed his head, before he and Iris turned around. He plastered a smile on his face, just as the very man he didn’t want to see came into vision. The man looked, in every aspect, the archetypical policeman: tall and strongly built, with neatly cropped hair and a square jaw. As he was an investigator, he wore typical clothing, but the bright polish on his CCPD badge made him stand out.

“Investigator Thawne,” Barry said, extending his hand. “Barry Allen. I’m the forensics on this investigation.”

“Wonderful,” Thawne replied, flashing a grin any dentist would be proud of. “My partner will be here soon, he’s just picking me up a coffee…”

Barry flashed a glance at Iris, who rolled her eyes.

“But we can get started now,” he said, getting out his notepad. He was old-fashioned, too. Most other investigators would opt for the free iPads they’d received as part of the package. “I’d like to get a hold of the witness reports before I hear yours, if that’s alright?”


“Great, I’ll be back in five, rookie,” Thawne said, walking off before Barry could finish his sentence “Ah, there he is! Double shot? Wonderful…”

“We’d better go and do our jobs,” Iris said, watching Thawne leave. “Those witness reports might be useful for the media.”

Barry managed to smile. “Sure. I have tire tracks to look at. Have fun with Thawne.”

“I think I will,” Iris replied, following in the investigators footsteps.

The few minutes it took for Thawne to speak to witnesses and the first officers on the scene, was all Barry needed to get his job done. He had run back and retrieved his work gear (and even cleaned his office in the few seconds he had). Putting on his gloves, he got started. The Speed Force didn’t just make him run incredibly fast, it also meant that he was able to examine and process thoughts faster than humanly possible. The tracks had been the first thing he’d spotted as a potential clue – the getaway car.

Next, were the clothes: the hoodie and mask. He fished them out of the garbage and immediately handed it to the other forensic officers to bag, in case there were any fingerprints. The gun would also be of interest, as he moved inside and started examining the ice. Whatever modifications had been made to it was either military grade, or experimental science.

There were two places that immediately sprung to mind that fit both of those categories, one of them being the Academy of Science and a nearby branch of STAR Labs. He’d want to get into contact with them personally – the perp had mentioned a ‘theory’ that must have related to how the gun would slow him down. If he wanted any chance at stopping this guy, he’d need to know how to beat the science.

Once he was done, he showed the spots to the photographer, who took the images.

“Alright, rookie,” Thawne said, approaching him last, notepad still in hand. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Three potential leads—“

“Leads? Bit early for you to be saying that,” Thawne chortled. “You’re CSI, right?”


“Leads aren’t really your department, then, are they?” Thawne shrugged. “Tell me what you got and I’ll decide which of them count as leads and not just … science stuff.”

Barry pursed his lips, holding in his frustration. But Thawne had been an investigator for years now and, as he was so quick to point out, Barry was little more than a rookie.

“Alright, we have the potential getaway car. It left pattern evidence in the form a tire skid mark on the ground as it got away. I noticed that there was a strange deposit left behind along with it, a resin. I’ve had them swabbed and will run tests on them later, to narrow down the potential area for where the car came from. I’ll also do some tire track identification.”

Thawne bobbed his head. Was that approval? “You said you had three? What’re the other two?”

“The witnesses, they said something about an ice gun, right?” Barry said, treading lightly. He wasn’t supposed to know about it, after all. “I overheard them.”

Thawne nodded, though he sounded indignant. “Yeah. They said when he pulled the trigger; it turned the air to ice. Wouldn’t have believed it, myself, if the bank didn’t look like half a skating rink. Ah, probably just a gimmick.”

A gimmick that had beaten the Flash.

“That kind of weaponry isn’t standard issue, obviously,” Barry explained, hiding his disdain, “which means it must have – excuse me, might have – come from a military or experimental science operation. The Academy? Maybe the STAR Lab branch, just outside of town?

“The last things are the clothes, which the perp dumped in a bin not far from here,” Barry said, holding up the ziplocked bag of clothing. “Might be fingerprints or DNA we could trace down. We could run the CODIS.”

“That’s what you used to do, right?” Thawne said, looking up from his notepad. “CODIS. The fingerprint stuff.”

“Yeah. The fingerprint stuff.”

“Great. Get in contact with some of your old team and have them check it out. I’ll run this by the Department. Let me know when you find out about those tires and the – resin, was it? Yeah. Keep in touch, Bill.”

“It’s uh,” he started, but Thawne had already left. “It’s Barry.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“He called you Bill?” Leo scoffed, spinning on his chair, as they watched Barry put the information into the computer. “Guy’s a jerk.”

“I’ve ran the tire marks twice now,” Barry sighed, “I can almost guarantee they belonged to the getaway car. The only problem is, that car should’ve been in impound.”

“So, bank robber steals a car as his getaway,” Leo shrugged. “Makes sense. And considering most of the Department was at the key ceremony made it a lot easier. Don’t know why the Mayor insisted on having the full guard there.”

“Well, whoever it was stole the car before the key ceremony,” Barry responded, as more information showed up on his screen. “Three different locations use the resin I found on the tire. Plastic factories. The perp drove to one of them and then used it to drive to the bank. This … isn’t really adding up.”

“Must have a hideout there,” Leo proposed. “Maybe that’s where he kept that ice cream gun.”

“Everything comes back to food with you, doesn’t it?” Barry laughed. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Yeah, but this is where the action happens, right?” Leo mentioned, throwing his arms up in excitement. “The CSI stuff! I always wondered if it was like the show. What else have you got there?”

“I’m going to check for the prints downstairs with Cisco and Caitlin. Hopefully they pull something up, because he didn’t leave much else for us.”

“A new kind of criminal, huh?” Leo said, sighing. He rose from his seat, grabbing his work from the desk. “That’s what it takes to make it in this town, especially with the Flash. Anyway, you gonna call the Jerk?”

“We’re not calling him that,” Barry replied. “And yeah, I will.”

The system had located three different areas throughout Central City that used the same plastic resin that had been found on the tire. It had also identified the brand of the car, which he’d referenced through the police system. It was meant to be under police supervision, but it had been stolen. The police report on the stolen car said the locks had been burned down, giving the thief entry.

“You’ve got something for me, right?” Barry asked, as he poked his head through the lab downstairs. “Anything?”

Cisco and Caitlin were there, big glasses over their faces and wearing the white lab coats he’d once worn himself. They had a massive desk, perfectly organised with every document they needed. The computers were set up neatly, not one cord tangled, while the projector they used to examine evidence was polished perfectly.

Caitlin’s doing.

“We have something,” Caitlin replied. While Cisco looked overjoyed at their discovery, Caitlin looked almost bored. “A few prints that we ran through the system. They belong to a guy named Mick Rory. Ring a bell?”

“It does,” Barry replied. Thinking it over a while, it clicked: “He was convicted of arson, years ago.”

“Yeah, he got out on bail a few weeks ago. A couple of his prints are on the jacket.”

“Rory’s a pyro, though,” Cisco considered, spreading his arms in confusion, revealing his Pearl Jam shirt. A relic from when they’d played in Central City almost twenty years ago. “So why would he have an ice cream gun? That’s what Leo called it. Cool, huh? It’s really similar to what I’m working on when I work STAR Labs—”

“You always bring this up,” Caitlin chided him. “You intern there. Not work. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, same difference,” Cisco said, not letting her burst his bubble. His bubble never burst, the more Barry thought about it. “But we were running through cyclotronic waves, trying to create gear that could cool the body in case of harsh conditions. You know, for military when they go out to, like, deserts and stuff.”

“The tech was modded, using that same theory. But that kind of work is beyond Rory. And he’s never robbed places before, either,” Barry mentioned. “Just … you know, set them on fire. But the locks to the car impound were burned. Rory could be an accomplice.”

“Look at you, man! All Grisham, like! Love it, dude,” Cisco cheered, patting Barry on the back. “You’re going chase him down, too, right?”

Barry shook his head. “Uh, that’s Thawne’s job. By the way, is Patty in today?”

“She was,” Caitlin answered, knowing the schedule off by heart. “But she had a fight with her new boss. Stormed out and didn’t come back.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

With the day job out of the way and Thawne investigating the three factories, Barry had time to do an investigation of his own. First, he called the nearest military base. They didn’t speak to reporters, but after telling them he worked for the CCPD they became more amicable. Once he told them a weapon of theirs may have been used for armed robbery, however, they became less amicable.

Next, he dialed STAR Labs.

“We don’t work with weapons, Mr Allen,” the lady on the other line told him. “I don’t know why you’d think that.”

“Someone used an experimental, theoretical weapon in an armed robbery earlier today,” he informed her. “I don’t know the exact details, but I believe it was related to cryogenic experiments. Manipulating waves in the air to flash-freeze the atmosphere.”

“As I said, we don’t work on guns, but…” a momentary pause and Barry could faintly hear the sound of keys clicking on the other side. “We are working on particular gloves that can generate cool air. You said it was a theoretical weapon? I suppose if the criminal were to modify the specifications to work at hundreds of degrees less-than-zero temperatures it would be possible. But even our top scientists are having a tough time working with this technology, Mr Allen.”

“So it would take an exceptionally smart person to operate it?” Barry said. “And it couldn’t be transferred into a gun?”

“Not at the stage we’re at, no,” the woman answered. “The gloves are all we have. They work by slowing down molecules, effectively cooling them. But if what we’re talking about is possible, if the criminal you’re after is operating with this kind of technology…”

“I understand,” Barry finished. “Thank you for your time.”

“Forensic department, right? Working with Cisco Ramon?”

“Yeah. He loved interning with you.”

“Tell him we liked his work,” the lady replied. “Personally, I think his talents are wasted looking at fingerprints and DNA. We have a high school intern, girl named Frances Kane. She’s dedicated, but not as gifted. With that said, we wouldn’t mind seeing him again, when he’s available.”

“Sure, I’ll let him know.”

“You’re going to stop this guy, whoever it is, right? This technology wasn’t made to rob banks. We started working on it to help people.”

“We’ll stop him, don’t worry,” Barry said, before he hung up. “That’s what we do.”

Rory was talented at starting fires. He wasn’t a scientific genius, or engineer. But he could have been an accomplice, Barry figured, as he raced off from the police building.

As Barry Allen, his resources were numerous – anything from police evidence, to witness reports and even the other forensic officers.

As the Flash, his resources came to one: an old man.

“We’ve known each other for two years now, Barry. Trained you in all that time,” Jay said, when Barry had arrived at his door. “I think I can tell when something is troubling you.”

His mentor’s home was like a museum. But the fun kind. One you’d want to visit. Barry often caught himself admiring the old photographs of the original Flash, standing side by side with the Central City mayor, or the Central City basketball team. There were old posters, framed, hanging up on the wall. And Barry’s personal favourite, an action figure, still in its box resting beside a hardcover comic book.

None of those brought him peace at the moment.

“It’s just…” Barry sighed, thinking it over. “I’ve never really been beaten before. If the Flash is involved, they don’t get away, they get caught. That’s how it has been.”

“So you fudged it up. Big deal,” Jay shrugged, taking a seat in his old leather couch. Then, his mood darkened for a moment, as he said, “It happens.”

“He had a gun – no, gloves. Something,” Barry said, massaging his forehead, not noticing Jay’s sudden change.

The younger speedster stimulated his brain, making the messages work faster. Jay Garrick was the only other person who wielded the Speed Force and so, was the only other person who could keep up with his train of thought. In moments like these, Jay was a godsend.

Speaking incredibly fast, Barry started, “The perp used a special gun no not a gun it was a glove or it was some kind of experimental technology and it manipulate the air around me the energy and I think it disrupted the Speed Force which made me move slower I think it is because it slowed the molecules in the air but I didn’t know how to react but I knew I needed to stop him and—“

“Hold on, Barry,” Jay interrupted, holding a hand up. “Let me put my hearing aid on.”

“Are – are you serious?”

“I’m kidding,” Jay chuckled. “You’ve thought it through already. It’s all up there, in that big head of yours. So what’s the problem?”

“For the first time as the Flash,” Barry replied, “I was afraid. I doubted myself. And I didn’t realize it then, because it was the heat of the moment, but now? If he can slow me down, if he can use this technology to freeze things and he has a pyromaniac as an accomplice, then Thawne … oh, no.”

“The cops are already after him?” Jay’s mood darkened. He leaned over and looked Barry straight in the eyes. “If he’s good enough to make the Flash afraid, imagine what he can do to a handful of cops.”

“I need to stop him,” Barry concluded. “Before he hurts anyone else. But, Jay, what if … what if I’m not fast enough?”

“You’ve always been fast enough, Barry,” Jay told him, rising to his feet. With a quick shuffle of his feet, he was at the front door in the blink of an eye. In his wake, he’d left a little, golden trail. “You’ve just never had to prove it. Until now.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It was night by the time Barry was able to get in touch with Thawne.

“Hey, it’s Barry. Barry. CSI.” Pinching his eyes, he mumbled, “It’s Bill.”

A cheer of recognition, as Thawne replied, “Oh, hey rookie! Sorry I missed your calls earlier, was out on the job. What’s up?”

“Well, it’s about the job,” Barry told him. “Remember how he had the gun? Turns out it might be worse than we thought. Maybe you should wait for back up.”

“A little ice,” was Thawne’s reply. “My partner and I can handle it. But, uh, thanks for the heads up. I’ll get in touch with CCPD when I’m done investigating the last factory.”

“Wait! You’re there, now?”

“Yeah, we just pulled up,” Thawne replied. “If that Mick Rory guy is here, we can deal with him.”

“It’s not Rory you should be worried about, it’s—“

“Hey, sorry Bill, we’re on the clock. We’re moving into the building now, so I got to go. Like I said, I’ll keep in touch with CCPD if anything gets out of hand. You’re doing pretty good for your first day.”

He hung up. Barry wasn’t sure whether to feel complimented or mocked. Thawne was treating him like a child. It was a strange feeling, this promotion. Yesterday, he’d been at the top of the forensic team. Today, he felt like he was at the bottom of the police staff. Mick Rory and this cryo-criminal. Just one of them would be bad enough for two police officers, but both of them?

Barry couldn’t take the chance. He took out his ring and looked at it, intently. He wouldn’t let doubt or fear get in the way of doing the right thing. Barry Allen had done all he could to help Thawne. Now, it was the Flash’s turn. At a click of a button and swirl of red light, the Flash appeared.

Not sure which of the factories Thawne had already checked, the Flash decided to check all three of them. Central City was large, extending west from the Ohio River and predominantly centered around the lower Hocking River. According to reports in the Central City Citizen, the city was just over ten square miles. The three factories were located just on its outskirts, which meant running from one end of the city to the other.

In a rush, it took him less than three minutes to check the first in the Upper East Side, the second on the Western docks. Between the two, he’d spotted the Central Theatre, where he’d often watched plays with his parents. There was a billboard announcing the arrival of The Phantom of the Opera – he’d have to ask his parents if they wanted to see it. Then he remembered, they still weren’t on the best of terms and that not only was he hiding his secret identity from them, but also his new promotion in the CCPD. Dad wouldn’t be happy to hear that one.

He raced around the massive amphitheater, recalling a fond memory of watching the football with Jay, early on during his training. Go Cougars! He even saw one of the campuses for Central City Academy, where he’d first met Iris and discovered his passion for forensic investigation.

Reaching the third, the Flash saw the police car parked out front.

And he saw a raging inferno.

“Damn,” he cursed, rushing to the car. He turned on the radio and announced, “Hello? There’s a fire, uh…” what was the police code for fire? Clearing his head, he announced, “Code Thirty! There’s a nine-oh-four-bee. At the old plastic factory just east of Iron Heights.”

With that done and without a second thought, he ran into the burning building. As soon as he did, he was met with the roar of the blaze and the roar of a desperate man. “Never again!” He shouted. It must have been Rory, “I’ll never go back!”

The black smoke was thick, making it difficult to see. Sometimes, the Flash wished he had x-ray vision, but that would have made everything too easy. He held a hand up to his mouth, trying to avoid breathing in the fumes. Get Thawne and his partner out and then deal with the fire.

“Detective!” Flash cried out, zipping out of the way of a falling pillar. “Detective Thawne, can you hear me?”

“Who’s there?” Rory’s voice. “You won’t take me!”

Another burst of flame. For a moment, it illuminated a spot in the factory. They were standing in a small, industrial area with several scaffolds still standing. Sheets that had been thrown over the equipment were alight with fire. But through it, as the smoke cleared just enough, he saw the eyes of the arsonist.

“No! No, no, no!” He shouted, holding up something in his hand.

The Flash could only faintly make it out. It was a bottle, with a rag in it. Immediately making the connection, the Flash swerved out of the way just as the bottle left Rory’s hands. It smashed on the ground where he had once been, the flame bursting into a massive pillar.

Thankfully, the Flash’s suit, much like Jay Garrick’s original, was made to disperse errant heat around him because of how fast his body moved. All the same, he covered his mouth and eyes as he avoided the explosive Molotov that Rory had used.

As he did, he saw Rory already on the run.

Low priority, the Flash decided. Where could he run? The building was on fire. Besides, the smoke had blinded him. He had no way of finding the two police detectives by the conventional way. The Flash, however, was anything but unconventional. He ran in a large circle, suffocating the flames by removing the oxygen. It took just under a minute, but it had worked.

Most of the flames had died down and his speed had fanned out the smoke. Spotting the two detectives, the Flash grabbed the nearest – Thawne’s partner – who had a bad looking burn on his body. He raced him outside, just near the car. Once he did, he started hearing sirens.

They were at least fifteen minutes away.

Rory could be gone by then.

The Flash ran back inside and grabbed Thawne.

“Unh…” he grumbled, blinking his eyes open. “F-Flash?”

“What happened herer?” The Flash asked, as he helped Thawne out.

“Soon as he saw us, he set the place on fire,” Thawne replied, coughing the smoke from his lungs. “But we found a bunch of illegal arms just outside the building. Buried, shallow.”

Flash looked around. “Authorities are on their way. They’ll help you.”

“Rory – did we get him?”

“Not yet,” the Flash said.

Before Thawne could reply, he raced after him.

There were still patches of fire throughout the building, having spread even further. But it wouldn’t be as bad as it was before. As he ran, he came across a laptop that was still working, a series of documents opened. Emails. Correspondence to someone named Blacksmith. Going through them with great haste and urgency, the Flash discovered that Rory had been using the plastic factory as a cover for smuggling weapons.

Before running away, he forwarded the emails to Thawne.

“Stop!” The Flash cried, as he finally caught up to Rory driving away in the car.

He didn’t listen. They never listen. The car would have raced down the hill and disappeared into the darkness. It was fast. The Flash was faster. He easily caught up to it, opened the door and placed himself in the driver’s seat, beside Rory. As he got inside, however, he noticed that this wasn’t the car that was at the crime scene.

“Ah! No, please—!”

“You didn’t rob the bank, did you?” The Flash asked. Rory tried to pull a gun, but the Flash grabbed it, took out the clips and threw it in the back seat. “Answer me! You didn’t rob the bank, did you?”

“What bank? No! This! These guns were my way out!”

“If you didn’t rob the bank, who did?”

“I don’t know! I swear!”

The Flash believed him. Faster than Rory could see, he reached over, pulled up the handbrake, turned the key off and took it out of the ignition. The car skidded to a halt and the Flash, before he ran off to return the incriminating documents to Thawne, grabbed Rory by the scruff of his neck, to make sure he didn’t get any whiplash.

The car’s interior disappeared and was replaced with the front lawn of the plastic factory. The Flash carried Rory behind him.

“Here. Mick Rory didn’t rob the bank today,” the Flash said. He was still dazed, but he understood. “But he is guilty of something. When you have a chance, check your emails.”

“So close … I was so close before I got away! She … she promised me…” The arsonist’s voice was faint, as he whimpered, “… Promised me freedom…”

Thawne’s eyes were wide, as he looked at the Flash and then at Rory. “Four years a detective, not once have I seen you, Flash.”

“Let’s just say you’ve got someone looking out for you,” he replied, offering a quick grin. “I have to go. Work.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he left.

But while his legs moved fast, his thoughts moved faster. The car at the crime scene had been here. The prints on the clothing had belonged to Mick Rory. The hoodie and the mask implicated him. Even the report on the stolen car had claimed the locks were burned, framing Rory right down to his pyromaniac tendencies. But the real threat was in the gloves that the perp had worn, which hadn’t been left behind. But Rory wasn’t driving the stolen car and he didn’t have the gloves, either.

Rory also claimed he hadn’t done it. Cisco was on the right track – ice guns? Armed robbery? That wasn’t Rory’s MO. He was fire. This criminal was ice. It didn’t add up. Almost as if someone had made it look like Rory was the culprit. Evidence had been planted, made to look like he was guilty.

And he was guilty, just not of the crime the Flash and Thawne were investigating.

A criminal with a heart of gold? A criminal who caught other criminals?

And this criminal, whoever he was, was still out there.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, rookie!” A voice called out, just as Barry was leaving the office, late that night. He finally had a few seconds to clean his office. “Sorry. Barry. I’m glad I caught you.”

Barry did his best to hide his sigh. “The news stations are calling you a ‘hero cop’ for catching Rory! Well done, Detective.”

“Ah,” he said, waving his arm away. “Right place, right time. Anyway, I…” he sighed, looking at his feet as he spoke. “About today. I shouldn’t have dismissed you the way I did. It was … unprofessional. Well, it was straight up rude. You gave me good advice. You told me to stay away from the factory and I ignored it. And because of that, my partner is lying in a hospital bed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, Barry, I’m the one that should be sorry. That’s what I came to say,” he said, with genuine emotion. Gone was the glory-seeking cop. Replaced was a man with earnest. “Sorry.”

“Uh,” Barry shrugged, a little confused. He wasn’t expecting this. “Apology accepted.”

“You’re a good cop,” Thawne said, patting his shoulder. “Keep up the good work.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The next day.

Mike Rory saw fire.

Everywhere he looked, there was fire. It was the only thing keeping him sane – as sane as possible, given the conditions. The walls were too close and the ceiling was too low. The window was too small and the bars were too thick. The bed was too hard, the floor even harder. He imagined it all burning with himself in the middle.

One day, Rory promised himself. He would punish them for this … the cage, the prison, the distance! It all coalesced to create an atmosphere of despair. And this time, the second time he’d been in prison, made it worse. Because the first time, he had that faint glimmer of hope. That hope that perhaps he’d find friction, he’d find a match, or a flame.

It had never happened.

He knew that, now. There was nothing he could do. No fires he could start. Imagining was all he was allowed. The fires gave him strength, not hope. It gave him purpose, not dreams. It was a constant reminder that he would never let those responsible go unpunished.

But the Flash was so fast. How do you set fire to what you can’t catch?

“Mick Rory,” a deep voice announced from the other side of the cell. “You’re being moved.”

Rory’s head snapped up. Where others would have seen a man, he saw a charred corpse. He saw dark, peeling skin, blotched with fire and flame. He saw smoke rising from the head and arms, clothes sticking to the flesh from the extreme heat. He saw death and fire.

“But,” the voice said, teeth chattering through the inferno. “I can release you, if you promise me something.”

“Who are you? Did she send you? Blacksmith?”

“No. But I can help you, because I’m someone who wants the same thing as you,” the corpse replied, his flesh still peeling. “Someone who wants to see the Flash defeated.”

“It is impossible,” Rory laughed, almost a bark of disbelief, as he imagined the Scarlet Speedster burning to death. “No one can kill him.”

“You’re right, we cannot kill him. But … defeat him, yes,” the man replied. “I have a theory. I will see it confirmed. But I need your help. So. A favour for a favour.”

“If I help you – we beat the Flash – that’s it? I’m a free man?”

Vengeance was all well and good … but freedom was better. He would make one last, glorious inferno to achieve it. And Blacksmith wasn’t here to help him. This man was. Whatever faith he once held in that woman was burned away, reduced to ash in that single moment. Replaced, instead, by faith in this man.

The mysterious figure replied, “Yes.”

Rory turned back to him. Eyes appeared through the fire, through the flesh. They were full of conviction and confidence. And they matched Rory’s own feelings. Rage and frustration. Rory smiled and nodded once, turning to face the man on the other side of the cage.

“You truly believe this?” Rory asked, as the fire began to disperse around him. Though he asked the question, Rory couldn’t help but have faith in the man. “That you can beat the Flash?”

The man retrieved a gun and shot at the lock. Less than a second later, through Rory’s imagined conflagration, it froze and shattered. The door to his cage creaked open as he replied, “I have to.”

As Rory stepped outside of the cage, the fire began to disperse. The smoke cleared and the haze disappeared. Before him was a man wearing a dark hoodie, his face mostly obscured by the shade. Rory didn’t recognise him, for if he did, he would have known that the man freeing him worked for the CCPD. He would have known that it was Leonard Snart.

Outstanding Marvel Team Up - your favourite heroes (and villains) all in one fan fic!

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 08:56

08 Feb 2015, 07:41 #17

Feral Female @ Feb 7 2015, 05:29 AM wrote: Another great issue of X-Pansion, MO!

If you have a novel to complete, Green Scar, I say complete the novel. We'll be here next month if you have it done.
Actually I'm just starting it. I"m taking it slow and easy. Like I've said on occasion, writing is a art. It cannot be rushed. But don't worry. Once it is published, I'll be sure to inform all of you. :friends:


Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 08:56

08 Feb 2015, 07:43 #18

Miles_Warren @ Feb 7 2015, 10:59 AM wrote:

Holy...! You are writing a novel GS? Let me know when it is done. I'll be sure to buy 10 copies :lol3:
Yes, I am just starting it. I've had it planned for a while now. Not sure how long it'll take before it's completed and published, but I'll be sure to tell ya when it is, Miles. :friends:


Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

09 Feb 2015, 11:18 #19

Great entry, xMatt!

Thanks for the kind words, Miles.

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

14 Feb 2015, 20:36 #20

After their arrival at Cloud City, a floating facility in the upper atmosphere of Bespin, Peter Parker, Mara Jane, Wohl Varin and Hank Macckoy are waiting as the Black Falcon's hyperdrive is repaired, after having met with the city's administrator T'Challa Calrissian. Unbeknownst to them, the Mandalorian bounty hunter known as "the Green Goblin" had arrived first. Also arriving to the city are representatives from the Rebel Alliance, there to discuss an ongoing refugee crisis from the Kenrez system...

Marvel Star Wars: Eye of the Hurricane - Chapter Four

Landing Platform 1A of the main Administrative Tower within Cloud City…

“Sir, are you alright?”

T’Challa Calrissian turned and looked at his assistant, Cyban, realizing he had been lost in thought as they waited as a shuttle owned by the Rebel Alliance landed fifty meters away. Unlike most landing pads in Cloud City, the ones around the Administrative Tower were under tight security. If it hadn’t been for the Kerezhan refugee crisis, security would have been more widely distributed. Unfortunately, there were too few members of the Tibanna gas mine’s security forces to monitor every landing pad. If that had been so, individuals like the Green Goblin – a bounty hunter - would have been turned away…even though the Mandalorian wasn’t exactly there against his wishes.

“I’m fine, Cyban,” T’Challa told him as the shuttle’s landing ramps lowered. “Let’s meet our new guests, shall we?”

The cybernetically enhanced man followed his employer to greet the individuals now disembarking from the ship. The first was a lighter skinned man in his thirties sporting a goatee and an expensive looking business suit. Following him was a blue and white astromech droid and two others – a woman in her early fifties with graying blonde hair and a Rodian. Both were regally dressed, but not as luxuriously as the man. Four Alliance security officers followed the three with their sidearms holstered.

“I am T’Challa Calrissian. Welcome to Cloud City,” the floating city’s administrator announced with a friendly smile. “We appreciate the Alliance’s assistance during this tragedy. I’m sure the Kenrezhan people share our thanks as well.”

The man with the goatee smiled. “That’s what the Rebel Alliance is about, sir. Helping people. My name’s Antoneid Starek. My associates here are Heerda Oyando and Vim Aseeb.”

T’Challa gave them a nod. “Well, the meeting started a while ago. Unfortunately, I have been too busy with the affairs of the city and with the refugee crisis to have attended it when it started. Follow me and we’ll have to join it in progress. I’ll be sure my droids will relay the minutes to you at the earliest convenience.”

Antoneid shared a curious glance with the other two Alliance representatives sent by Mace Fury as they walked into a tower. “Already in progress? I’m not sure I understand. I thought I was the Alliance representative meeting with you. Who else is here?”

T’Challa gave him a slight grin as they walked up to a conference room door guarded by a pair of security officers carrying short rifles. “I think the Alliance’s intelligence security has been tighter than you realize.” T’Challa gave the guards a nod and one of them keyed the door to open.

Inside was a long table at which several Haowaths sat on one side. Around their side of the table stood a couple of gray and white protocol droids that were provided by Calrissian’s people. On the other side of the table sat six people, three of which were human. The others were a Twi’lek man, a Bith and a Ceirain. An orange and gray astromech droid along with a ULT-1F utility droid stood behind them. Antoneid didn’t recognize any of the people until they rose as T’Challa entered the room.

“Mon Mothma,” Antoneid said out loud recognizing the single female human among the group of Alliance officials. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be here.” He had recognized her from holo communications the two had in the past although he had never met her in person up to that point.

“You weren’t told for security reasons,” she said as he walked up to her. He realized that she was shorter than she looked on the holos. “Director Fury is aware of my presence here. Has the Avenger left for Kenrez yet?”

“It left just after our shuttle exited from it,” Antoneid replied. “It’s on its way to pick up refugees. He didn’t mention anything about your attendance here. I think it would have…”

“I imagine it would too, if I had been in your position,” Mon Mothma quickly replied. “I would like to introduce you to the surviving members of the Kenrezhan Parliament, if you don’t mind. Please, have a seat.”

As Antoneid was about to sit, a Haowath reached across the table with a long, thin arm. Haowaths were shorter than human adults typically were, but were wider and more rugged in their appearance with large, four toed feet and four arms. Their lower arms were solid looking with three fingered claws that were well suited for digging and lifting. Their upper arms were longer and thinner, obviously suited for finer tasks such as eating, working with tools and shaking people’s hands.

“Bovok Noakl’ahm,” the Haowath grunted with a wide, friendly smile.

“Antoneid Starek,” he replied, shaking the Kenrezhan’s hand. Just as he did, the Haowath grunted something else to him.

“Representative Noakl’ahm welcomes you, Antoneid Starek,” one of the protocol droids said in a female voice. “He says that the Empire has lost one of its greatest assets seeing how you have rejoined the Rebel Alliance.”

Antoneid grinned. “Wow, I didn’t realize I was that famous. I guess my reputation as an engineer has gotten around. Hey…I’m sorry, did you say ‘rejoined’ the Alliance? Actually, I’ve never been a member of the Rebellion before a few weeks ago.”

The protocol looked at him curiously. “You were not a member of the Rebel Alliance as a youth? The Representative assumed you were due to your father’s membership in it.”

Antoneid’s mouth dropped open slightly. “My dad…?”

“Perhaps a conversation for later,” the protocol droid said as the Kenrezhan Representative spoke again. “Our relief manager has reported the safe delivery of your humanitarian package. The Representative gives his thanks.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Antoneid replied with a big grin as the protocol droid quietly repeated the words to the Haowaths. “The Alliance would like you to know that we will continue to help in whatever fashion we are capable of.”

“With that, shall we begin the next phase of this meeting regarding the means by which the Rebel Alliance can assist the peoples of Kenrez?” Mon Mothma asked the Haowaths as they sat again.

Antoneid gave the Alliance President a curious glance. In his mind he wondered why she was on Bespin if it wasn’t for the refugee crisis. He put those questions aside as questions regarding setting up a system of redeploying the Kenrezhan refugees to the Dinopeh System in the Outer Rim – a sparsely inhabited world that already had a small Haowath population. Having already seen specs on the Alliance’s personnel transports, he gave the Kenrezhans a confident look.

“I think I have some answers that your people will appreciate,” Antoneid told them. “I think we probably can start moving your people in a matter of hours. I’ll have my droid give you some details. Jarvee? Can you give us the general holographic design specs and data regarding the speed and transport capacity of the MPT-7532? I believe these ships would be best suited for moving large numbers of refugees to Dinopeh.”

The astromech droid rolled forward to the table and immediately began projecting the holographic image of a large cruiser. As it did, Antoneid gave Mon Mothma a glance, still curious about her presence at the meeting and her mentioning the talk of assisting the Kenrezhans as the “next phase”.


Meanwhile, across the floating city in a luxurious apartment…

“Kid, you acted like you haven’t eaten in weeks,” Wohl Varin commented with a grin as Peter Parker finished a meal that consisted of Suyo crab-fish and dime rice. Mara Jane, who sat across from Peter with a bowl of soup only half-eaten, grinned as well.

Peter gave each of them a semi-embarrassed stare. “Well, to be truthful, I’ve never eaten anything as good as that in my life. Oh, I hope Mr. Calrissian doesn’t mind, but I’m going to ask room service for another plate of that!”

MJ was about to dissuade him in case he wasn’t joking when MA1-B9 spoke up.

“Oh, Peter, you don’t think my cooking is good?” the droid asked, looking at him curiously with her large gold eyes. They were expressionless, always open and never changed their shapes, but at different times, Peter seemed to see in them just about any expression a human could make. Right now, they seemed to express surprise and disappointment.

“Of course, I do, May,” Peter explained. “It’s just I never had anything like crab-fish before. In fact, I think that was the second time in my life I’ve ever had seafood. You make the best wheat cakes in the galaxy and I challenge anyone to serve me better.”

“You come from Muan-Hutta, a desert planet,” MJ said with a grin. “I imagine anyone who opened a seafood restaurant there would make a fortune.”

“It depends on people’s tastes,” Peter said turning to look around the room for the big, blue furry man that was Hank Macckoy to ask his opinion about seafood. To his surprise, he wasn’t there. “Hey, where’d Hank go?”

“He went back to the Falcon to get the canister we lifted from that garrison on Muan Hutta,” Wohl told him. “I’m more comfortable with it in plain sight after having it sit in that ship under a swamp for a few days. That thing is worth about ten thousand Suyo crab-fish dinners and, as much as I trust my friend T’Challa, I don’t trust his drive techs while they’re in my ship. If they get too curious, they might start poking around and…”

“I can’t believe you have that thing with you still,” MJ complained as the droid walked over to the room’s central comm. “That was in the same Imperial Garrison commanded by Grand Admiral Trask, himself! I’m sure the Empire is eager to get its hands back on it.”

“Hey, listen, sister,” Wohl said, sitting back on the comfortable couch he was sitting on, putting his feet up on an expensive crystalline topped stimcaf table. “If the Empire wanted it so bad, they would have put a tracking device in it. If they had put a tracking device in it, they would have looked for it on Dagobah. It’s safe. We’re fine. Stop worrying.”

“I know all that,” MJ explained to him. “I’m not worrying. I’m just saying that you’re…reckless.”

Wohl gave her a shocked expression and held out his hands. “Reckless? Me? No, I just know how to take care of myself.”

“Typically, the price of a Suyo crab-fish meal would be between twenty-five and fifty credits, depending on the amount of the sea creature harvested during the season on Wakanda,” MA1-B9 informed the others having just looked up the data on Cloud City’s central computer. “That would mean that ten thousand meals would cost anywhere between two hundred, fifty thousand and five hundred thousand credits.”

Wohl rolled his head and dropped his arms onto the couch in exasperation. “Well, thank you, ‘Goldie, the Calculator’. I’m glad you’re here to tell us these things.”

“Oh, I’m glad to be of service,” the droid replied as she walked over to pick up Peter’s empty plate, unaware of the man’s sarcasm.

“A quarter of a million credits?” Peter asked him with a grin.

Wohl looked at him with a slight grin. “Well…technically, it’s the higher number.”

“A half million credits,” Mara Jane said shaking her head. “That’s the only reason why you even bothered setting a foot in that garrison.”

Wohl sat up, looked at her and nodded his head slowly in a big exaggerated sweep. “That’s right, Red. I wasn’t there to rescue you. Sorry to you and your Spider-boyfriend.”

Mara gave Peter a look and he shrugged.

“It’s true,” Peter admitted. “We were helping each other when we rescued to. He was in it for his payday and I was there to…”

Peter and MJ looked at each other for a moment. She could tell he had feelings for her and she knew she couldn’t have gotten out without his help. More and more she felt herself drawn to Peter. Any fault she thought he had so far had been disproven.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Wohl said, stretching his head back to look at the Cloud City skyline upside down through the window. “You’ll still get your ten percent cut like we agreed.”

“Ten percent…?” Mara Jane asked, looking at Wohl then at Peter.

Peter shrugged and was about to tell her Wohl was joking again when he felt a tingle in the back of his head and the sensation seemed to rush down his entire nervous system. It was the Force telling him of danger.

“What’s with you, kid?” Wohl asked noticing the look on his face.

“Something,” Peter said, jumping to his feet and leaping across a few meters onto the couch beside him. “Something bad’s about to happen. Somewhere…”

“Your spider-sense again?” Wohl asked. “Your internal sensors aren’t pointed toward the Black Falcon, Hank or my cargo, are they?”

Peter slowly shook his head. “No, it’s…” He closed his eyes. “It’s in another direction.”

“Well, that’s good…hey!” Wohl began to say as Peter began to check the window until he found a manual release that would allow it to open from the inside. “What are you doing? You’re not going to open the window are you? The air’s fresh enough in here. We don’t…”

Peter pulled his tunic off, revealing he was wearing his red and blue sensor dampening suit underneath.

“Oh, good,” Wohl said shaking his head. “Pete’s wearing his jammies.”

“I knew I’d need them,” Peter explained to him as he kicked off brown boots revealing that he wore the costume’s red shoes underneath them.

Mara looked at him curiously until she realized he was going to drop his trousers.

“You made Red blush, kid,” Wohl said with a grin. “Good job.”

Peter sensed urgency and ignored the comment and pulled his mask on. Climbing onto the couch again, he opened the window and fired a webline to a tower nearby. In less than a second later, he was out the window and swinging across Cloud City’s skyline.

As Mara Jane walked up to the window to see if she could see where he went, Wohl turned around and looked as well.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t raining.”


In the Administration tower…

“Well, that went smoother than I had hoped,” Mon Mothma said just after the Kenrezhan delegation left from the conference room. “You did a fine job planning their relocation, Mr. Starek.”

“You can call me Antoneid,” he replied as he turned to her. “I’m just curious as to why you’re here besides helping with this refugee crisis.”

She smiled at him and at T’Challa Calrissian who stood a few meters away. She wasn’t afraid to say what she had to say with him nearby.

“The Kenrezhans, like anyone else in this galaxy deserves their freedom,” Mon Mothma explained to him. “I was here on an official capacity to invite them into the Rebel Alliance.”

Antoneid frowned at her. “To invite them into joining a war, you mean. These people just lost their home and now you want to drag them into a conflict with the Empire. I guess I had the ‘smaller’ of the two humanitarian causes.”

“I don’t believe you are aware of just what is at stake with…”

“I know what’s at stake, Mon,” Antoneid shot back at her suddenly. “The Alliance is on a crusade to take down the Empire. It’s a worthy one, or I wouldn’t be a part of it. The problem is, we’re now inviting people who so far have not been under the Empire’s sensor scans to come out of hiding, grab their blasters and help fight a behemoth that’s likely to trample us all down at any minute.
Wouldn’t you agree there, T’Challa? I mean the Bespin system and your cozy home on Wakanda, its moon, have barely been visited by the Imperials. Your moon’s too small and too isolated to warrant a lot of interest by the Empire. I know that Kenrez does a lot of business here as one of your biggest customers of Tibanna gas. I’m sure you’re not too eager to see your anonymity disappear and have the Empire crawl into your city here on Bespin or start trampling down every garden on Wakanda’s surface.”

“Mr. Starek…Antoneid,” Mon Mothma responded, obviously trying to keep her composure. Mr. Calrsissian is well aware of what is at stake as is Bovok and the rest of the Kenrezhan delegation. Those issues have all been discussed. Now, please keep your focus on the refugee situation.”

“I am keeping my focus on these refugees, ma’am,” Antoneid replied angrily. “I’m seeing them go from a ‘sinking boat’, if you please, to an Imperial cage.”

“That’s not going to happen…”

“Not going to happen?” Antoneid said, echoing her words incredulously. “You’re inviting them into the Rebellion. I’m trying to make sense of this, and I think you’re more focused on this revolution of yours…I mean, of ours and less on the people it’s trying to help. I’m surprised that Mr. Calrissian here hasn’t booted us all off of this floating city of his.”

“Please, do not drag Mr. Calrissian into this,” Mon Mothma told him sternly. T’Challa stood silently.

I’m not the one doing that, ma’am,” Antoneid told her, putting his face inches from hers.

“Is that all?” she asked him, not budging her face or her position.

Antoneid looked at her then at T’Challa Calrissian. Both of them were staring at him angrily now. He expected that expression from Mon Mothma, but was surprised that Calrissian was taking her side.

“That’s all,” Antoneid told her and walked out of the room. Mon Mothma and T’Challa exchanged glances, both of them silently wishing the previous conversation had never happened.

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

14 Feb 2015, 20:41 #21

That was hot off the presses. I hope no one is trying to make any chronological sense of the stories I post chapters of here. I've gone back and forth in five different stories over the last few years, posting chapters out of order.

Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

15 Feb 2015, 11:00 #22

Great entry, BT!

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

17 Feb 2015, 00:09 #23

Feral Female @ Feb 15 2015, 07:00 AM wrote: Great entry, BT!
Thanks, Feral!

Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

18 Feb 2015, 20:39 #24

I won't join the comp. this month

my story is ready, but it needs to be corrected
unfortunately my teacher has just come back from hospital and I will have my lesson first next Wednesday

I don't want to show you my story uncorrected, cause I like it very much...

but I will read Your entries :wub: , and vote as a non-entrant

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

18 Feb 2015, 21:39 #25

ewkada @ Feb 18 2015, 04:39 PM wrote: I won't join the comp. this month

my story is ready, but it needs to be corrected
unfortunately my teacher has just come back from hospital and I will have my lesson first next Wednesday

I don't want to show you my story uncorrected, cause I like it very much...

but I will read Your entries :wub: , and vote as a non-entrant
Oh, that's too bad, ewkada. Your work keeps improving.

That leaves us with only 4 stories and a little over a week to go before voting starts.