June 2016 Fan Fiction Writing Contest

A great opportunity for writers to showcase their talent.

Moderators: Feral Female, Miles_Warren, Feral Female, Miles_Warren

June 2016 Fan Fiction Writing Contest

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

09 Jun 2016, 09:33 #1

See the link below for the rules:


Modifications to the rules:

1. If Miles Warren or Feral Female decide to take management of this competition, they have full authority to do so.

2. At the end of the month, in the absence of Miles and Feral, votes must be submitted to Big Thunder's PM account.

3. As before, votes (2) must be submitted by anyone entering. No votes will result in a disqualification.

4. Competition ends on June 28.

5. ALL voting begins on June 28 at 4pm EST and ends on June 30 at 11:59pm. Entrant voting and reader voting will take place at the same time.

Good luck to all entrants!

Eternal Nightmare
Joined: 21 Jun 2008, 01:11

09 Jun 2016, 11:38 #2

Peter Pan and the Pirates - Smee's Guess

I don't own Peter Pan and the Pirates characters.

Captain Hook opened his eyes after a rooster crowed near his bed. After sitting up, he saw Peter Pan. He began to scowl. ‘’How did you enter my chamber?’’ Captain Hook asked. He turned his head before he saw the answer. A window wasn’t closed.

Captain Hook still scowled. *Smee forgot to close the window again!* he thought. He got out of bed and pursued the trespasser. He ran out of his chamber.

‘’SMEE! MULLINS! BILLY JUKES! COOKSON! ALF MASON! STARKEY!’’ Captain Hook shouted. His scowl remained as his crew ran to him. He saw their wide eyes before he looked down. That was when he remembered he wore nothing but grey long johns.

Blushing, Captain Hook glowered at the other pirates. ‘’Capture Peter Pan!’’

The pirates viewed Peter flying above the Jolly Roger. They ran to him with their weapons raised above their heads.

Mullins faced Captain Hook. ‘’I’ll capture Peter Pan this time.’’ He ran into Billy and Starkey before he fell with them.

Captain Hook rolled his eyes for a few seconds. He shook his head in disbelief. His scowl returned the minute Peter flew far from the Jolly Roger. Captain Hook trembled and approached Smee. He placed his hook under Smee’s face and lifted him with it. He continued to scowl.

‘’You forgot to close the window again, Smee. Peter Pan flew into my chamber and crowed near my face! He also flew from us,’’ Captain Hook said.

Smee trembled. ‘’My apologies, Captain Hook,’’ he said in a sincere tone.

‘’You are useless, Smee!’’ Captain Hook dropped him. He faced the rest of his crew. ‘’Prepare the boat. We’ll search for Peter Pan’s hideout. I’ll return.’’

Captain Hook returned to his cabin. He dressed in his usual pirate clothes and returned to his crew. After reaching shore via boat, he and the remaining pirates looked for Peter Pan.

Smee was sheepish as he followed his captain. His eyes became wide after rope wrapped around his foot. He found himself upside down as he squirmed. *A snare trap?*

Smee began to tremble another time. He wondered if it was a trap for Captain Hook. A trap created by Captain Hook’s enemies. The pirate’s enemies such as Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.
Smee also wondered if there were additional traps. *Please be careful, Captain Hook* he thought. Worry filled his eyes.

Smee remained trapped for what seemed like hours. *Captain Hook probably abandoned me* he thought. Tears formed in Smee’s eyes for a moment. *Captain Hook said I was useless.*

Smee gasped after Captain Hook appeared with the rest of his crew. He saw Captain Hook’s wide eyes. ‘’My apologies for being useless again. I understand about you abandoning me.’’

‘’Abandon? I never knew you were gone, Smee. I thought you were with me,’’ Captain Hook said.

A small smile appeared on Smee’s face. ‘’You won’t abandon me?’’ he asked.

Captain Hook shook his head back and forth.

‘’Did you find Peter Pan?’’ Smee asked.

Captain Hook shook his head again. He used his hook to slice the rope. He watched as Smee’s eyes widened before the latter fell. ‘’Let’s return to the Jolly Roger.’’

Smee winced after he contacted the ground. ‘’I’m a bit sore. Carry me?’’

Captain Hook rolled his eyes again. He lifted Smee and carried him as he walked.

Smee smiled and blushed. He rested his head on Captain Hook’s shoulder. ‘’I’m safe with you.’’ Smee fell asleep and continued to smile.

The End




Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

12 Jun 2016, 09:43 #3

The Rebel Alliance is assisting in Bespin's effort to help ferry the survivors of the dying planet Kenrez using Cloud City as a base of operations. Little do they know that Hydra is there as well having just welcomed back the Sith sect's founder, Darth Maul. Emboldened by the return of the Sith Lord, Hydra is now beginning to reveal itself to an unsuspecting galaxy...

Marvel Star Wars: Eye of the Hurricane

Chapter Ten

The Alliance Star Destroyer Avenger five hundred kilometers above Bespin…

Silently, Mace Fury stood at the massive ship’s main viewport watching as a time-worn bulk freighter exited from hyperspace several kilometers ahead of them followed by a few dozen smaller freighters. Escorting the freighters were a half dozen X-Wings adorned with Rogue Squadron’s signature “blue prey-bird” markings.

“Commander Hill is reporting in, Director,” the bridge’s senior comms officer reported to him, looking up from her station. “She says this is the last of the Kenrezhan refugees. Nearly half of them are injured; some severely”

Director Fury took another look at the freighters most of which looked either very old or heavily battered. He guessed that they were the last ships that the dying world Kenrez had to offer. If it were under different circumstances, he would have guessed that ships in such a condition would have been rotting in some junker depot being rummaged through by scavengers or being used by illicit spice runners operating out of some vermin infested Outer Rim dive. The conditions in those ships for the refugees, running from their homes in Kenrez’s last hours, must have been horrendous.

He turned to the Bothan comms officer. “Inform traffic control in Cloud City that the last of the refugees have arrived and thirty-two Class C and D freighters will be arriving shortly. Instruct Mr. Starek to have several personnel shuttles to dock with that bulk freighter to pick up refugees and have medical teams ready for all arrivals.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, he turned and began to make his way to a turbo-lift when a sensor tech raised a sudden alarm.

“Sir, several unidentified ships have just exited from hyperspace! They’re small…fighter class.”

Mace turned quickly and hurried back to the nearest viewport. A tech nearby swiveled his sensor screen to face him. From the viewport, he could see the small ships fast approaching.

“I can’t make out what kind of ships they are,” Mace said, openly noting his concern as he turned to the sensor screen. Three dimensional schematics of two similar vehicle type appeared. He realized that, considering their size, they weren’t a threat to the Avenger but the freighters were easy targets if the ships were hostile. The sensors identified a strange emblem emblazoned on each of the ship’s fuselages – tentacled skulls. Each of the ship types had four drive engines and a single cockpit raised near their sterns. One type had a large boxy looking module near the front and the other had what looked to be an elongated snout with two pairs of hexagonal stellar panels on either side similar to those used by…

“TIE fighters!” Fury exclaimed in realization as more of the sinister ships began to arrive and swarm toward the planet’s surface. The ships of the type in question began to release the TIE fighters in their alligator-like jaws. Once the TIEs had been released, the carrier ships turned tail and re-entered hyperspace. “They’re hostile. Instruct Rogue Squadron to intercept the newcomers. Raise Mon Mothma and Mr. Calrissian immediately! Helmsman, move the Avenger in to intercept these ships. They’re all coming in from the same vector so they should be easy to cut off.”

As Director Fury watched as the X-Wings of Rogue squadron escorts moved in to intercept and engage the ships, holograms of Mon Mothma and Antoneid Starek appeared above the sensor station.

“Madame, I recommend you evacuate immediately,” Mace told the Alliance’s leader, still in the city floating amongst the clouds above Bespin’s surface. “I’m not recognizing these ship’s markings, but many of them are carrying pairs of TIE fighters and what looks to be possible portable troop bunkers, headed in your direction. These new ships look too sophisticated to be the types of ships scrounged together by the Ti’i Pirates, so I’m wagering that they’re Imperial.”

I’ll go and make sure Mon Mothma’s safe,” Antoneid Starek’s holo told him. Mace was concerned that T’Challa Calrissian hadn’t contacted him. He quickly guessed that he was caught up with some city business that was obviously going to become irrelevant any second, so he brushed the concern aside due to the urgency of the moment.

“No,” Mace responded. “Starek, go and get your armor. You’d be more of use intercepting those TIE fighters and landing craft. Spider-Man should be on his way to Mon Mothma. He’ll provide an escort for her.”

“But, I…”

Mace didn’t recognize the suddenly worried look on Antoneid’s face just before he deactivated the holo. Starek tended to be argumentative and he didn’t have time to debate with the man.

“Are we within range of those enemy fighters’ arrival points yet?” Director Fury asked as he watched the fighters from Rogue Squadron trying to engage the TIE fighters. The enemy seemed more interested in entering Bespin’s atmosphere and head in Cloud City’s direction than to fight with them or attack the Kenrezhan freighters. That didn’t settle too well with the Rebel Alliance’s security director.

“The enemy ships will be within our turbolaser range in twelve seconds, Director,” the Avenger’s gunnery boss announced.

“Once we begin engaging those fighters, instruct the Rogue escorts to head to Cloud City and engage those landing craft,” Director Fury announced calmly, quite confident that the arriving mysterious enemy ships would be no match for Star Destroyer’s guns.

That confidence quickly dissolved when three Imperator II class Star Destroyers suddenly dropped out of hyperspace behind the fighters. Emblazoned across their upper hulls were the same red tentacled skulls that the small carrier ships had emblazoned on their fuselages.

“Blast it!”


Meanwhile, in Cloud City…

Peter rushed quickly as he could through the frantic crowds of city dwellers as alarm klaxons sounded ominously around them. Despite his peculiar looking red and blue costume, the panicking crowd was obviously too concerned over the announcement that Imperial forces had arrived and were heading in their direction than to stop and stare at him.

“Excuse me, please!” Peter said as he tried to maneuver through the press of the crowd as his Force driven “spider-senses” continue to sound their own alarm in his mind. He sensed that Mon Mothma was in danger. While all other matters seemed to be of little consequence, he knew plowing through the flow of people, sending them to the floor only to be trampled in a panicked stampede was not an option.

Looking up, he saw that the ceiling to the corridor in the tower he was making his way through was growing higher. Lifting both his hands, he fired two web lines that he used to snap himself up onto the ceiling and began crawling above the crowd as fast as he could. Before too long, the corridor opened into a picturesque promenade with large panoramic windows. Normally they provided the city dwellers a fantastic view of the alabaster towers of the city around them with the skies of Bespin as a background. Now they only reminded the people of the growing horror as TIE fighters were engaging Cloud City’s twin hulled atmospheric patrol craft with the city’s layers of air traffic moving at a frenzied pace to flee from the danger. Smoke could be seen rising from a few towers in the distance. One tower that stood out in the midst of them was the one that Mon Mothma was in. It was still kilometers away.

Seeing one of the city’s security officers in a blue uniform near one of the windows relaying information through his wrist comm, Peter fired a webline to the promenade’s ceiling and swung over to him. The already panicked officer nearly jumped out of his skin as the man in the red and blue costume landed next to him.

“Sorry about that!” Peter said. “I’m Spider-Man. I’m trying to get to Tower 43. Where’s the nearest air-cab station?”

“Are you kidding me?” The officer’s mouth nearly dropped open incredulously. Behind him, through the window, Peter could see the growing chaos outside.

“Yep, that was a dumb question,” Peter said while noticing through the window that a flow of air-cars was heading almost in Tower 43’s direction. Instinctively, Peter drew the lightsaber from his belt.


The officer stumbled back as Peter raised the blade over his head as he faced the duraglass window. For an instant, over his shoulder he noticed a strange looking bald man wearing robes writing on what looked to be a parchment with a feathered quill. The man, in that instant, looked up to him briefly and smiled at him. For that brief instant, Peter seemed to be in a place out of time. Everything in the promenade was an out of focus blur except for the bald man.

Snapping himself out of what seemed to be a weird daydream, Peter sliced the green blade of his lightsaber in an arc through the window. As the security officer prepared to draw his blaster pistol in response, Peter webbed it to his holster.

“Sorry, this is an emergency,” Peter said, briefly noticing that the bald man with the pen and parchment were gone. He then sliced another arc through the window and it began to fall out. Quickly he webbed it and pulled it into the promenade letting it drop to the floor.

“Make sure no one trips over this!” Peter told the stunned officer before he leapt out through the window into mid-air.

Instinctively, Peter shot a webline out and it caught a refuse truck as it was passing overhead. The truck began to turn and the webline snapped taut flinging Peter through the air roughly in Tower 43’s direction.

“That’s nice, but I’m ‘Spider’-Man, not ‘Bird’-Man!” Peter shouted to himself as a TIE fighter exploded a few hundred kilometers above him to his right. An X-Wing passed through the exploding fireball and turned in the direction of another fighter.

That didn’t matter much as Peter found himself beginning to freefall after being catapulted by the unsuspecting garbage truck. He lifted his left hand and fired another webline out to that side. Nearly to his surprise, the webline caught an air-car that was in the middle of a diving maneuver to avoid colliding with another larger passenger vehicle. The air-car snapped Peter through the air and soon he found himself trailing behind the vehicle as it bobbed and weaved through an oncoming traffic flow.

“Oh, this isn’t good! Listen, guy! You need to get back in your own lane or I’m gonna be splattered all over someone’s windshield!”

Quickly abandoning hope that the air-car’s unseen driver had somehow psychically received his warning, Peter fired another webline. Again, it was a blind, instinctive action. Again, the webbing caught another air-car and, again, it began to pull him in Tower 43’s direction.

Peter realized it was the Force that was guiding his reflexes and actions. He remembered that back on Dagobah, Xyoda had taught him to be calm, to be one with the Force and…

“Truck!” Peter yelped as he found himself a split-second from being plowed into by the hover-vehicle. Through the truck’s cab window, Peter could easily see that all three of the Ree-Yees driver’s eyes were as wide as turbo-engine exhausts.

Peter again fired a webline, again catching another vehicle and snatched out of the way before being hit by the Ree-Yees’ truck. This new vehicle was much faster and moving in Tower 43’s direction, much to Peter’s relief as he put eyes on his destination, now drawing much closer, much faster. That relief dissolved when Peter realized the vehicle he was attached to was a TIE fighter.

“Great! I wish I had a blaster cannon!” Peter muttered loudly above the sound of the whistling wind. “Hopefully, someone will blast this Hutt-spawn out of the sky and…oh, bad idea!”

The TIE exploded. An X-Wing zipped by. Peter could feel the heat of the explosion, dodging one of the destroyed fighter’s wing spars as it shot by before firing a webline that caught a damaged city patrol craft as it limped through the air toward Tower 43. Peter realized the patrol craft was evidently the TIE fighter’s intended target. The ship and its two pilots had been spared.

“Trust the Force,” Peter reminded himself as the patrol craft slowed enough while approaching a landing pad next to the Tower 43 to allow Peter to web a light tower and swung around it to cling onto one of the building’s windows. Peter closed his eyes for a brief moment, partly in relief that he had survived the crazy trip he had just made and partly to gain his bearings.

“Mon Mothma’s on the ground floor,” Peter realized opening his eyes. Dropping to the garden surrounding the building, he pulled his lightsaber from his belt again. Slicing through the window, he punched through the damaged duraglass and leapt into the room beyond. It was empty of its previous occupants fortunately and Peter rushed to its door. Opening it, he ran into the hallway beyond.

“Left,” Peter said out loud as he heard blaster fire. He sensed Mon Mothma was now in grave danger. Though he knew he needed to remain calm, the adrenaline began to flow and Peter’s heart began to race. He scrambled down the empty corridor as sounds of a commotion – a mix of blaster fire and men screaming in brief agony became louder and louder.

Rounding a corridor, in a moment’s time Peter’s eyes took in the scene. Four Alliance soldiers lay on the floor several meters in front of him. Standing in their midst was a woman in her thirties with short brown hair wearing the regal white robes of a diplomat. The look on her face was a mix of shock and grim realization as a black form moved from behind her.

The sound of a lightsaber activating. The red glow of a blade behind her swept through her mid-section. Where the woman once stood, a pile of white robes partly burnt by the lightsaber fell to the floor.

“NOOO” Peter screamed. He was too late! Standing just behind where Mon Mothma stood, a dark robed figure holding a red-bladed lightsaber with a long silver colored handle looking curiously at the robes on the floor. The creature’s head looked like a red skull.

Peter activated his lightsaber again and stormed toward the figure. The ‘red skull’ looked up at him and smiled evilly.

“So, you are one of the creatures strong in the Force that I sensed when I arrived,” Darth Maul said with an evil grin raising his lightsaber to intercept Peter’s attack. “Strange that I did not sense the Force in her.”

Angrily, Peter swung the lightsaber again at the darkly robed monster. Again, seemingly with ease, the Sith Lord blocked it, almost as if he wasn’t all that concerned that the red and blue costumed man was attacking him.

“ ‘Spider-Man’, is it?” the Sith asked curiously as he blocked a third attack. “Is that what you call yourself?”

Peter couldn’t tell if the ‘red skull’ man had somehow read his mind or if he was becoming that big of a threat to the Empire. Either way, Peter couldn’t help but feel very vulnerable, especially since the center of his spider-sense’s warnings seemed centered around the man he was now attacking.

Peter didn’t answer the man’s taunting questions Instead he continued to swing his lightsaber as fast as he could toward the man’s head, legs and arms. Every stroke was counted by reflexes that seemed impossibly faster that Peter’s.

“You are skilled, young Spider-Man,” Darth Maul grinned, the image of his white teeth completing the features of the red skull his face bore a sickening resemblance to. “But your attack is rash.”

The red skulled villain swept away another of Peter’s attacks and this time countered with one of his own. Peter found himself stumbling back astonished at the man’s strength. If he hadn’t blocked the attack with his lightsaber, the villain’s red blade would have cut his left arm off.

“Very rash,” Darth Maul said with another grin knowing he had the upper hand in a fight he knew that would only be too brief. If this was all that this brand new era of the galaxy had to offer as far as Jedi went, he thought to himself that the road to the Emperor’s throne would be so much shorter.

Peter felt the man’s words stab into him. Peter threw three quick slices from his lightsaber at the monster only to have each of them blocked again. With each counter by the red skull, Peter found himself taking a step backwards, nearly stumbling over the body of one of the fallen Alliance soldiers.

Again, Darth Maul counter attacked this time with three of his own expert swings of his red-bladed lightsaber. Spider-Man found himself forced back again, sensing that his blocks with his green-bladed lightsaber were feeble in comparison to his opponent’s.

“And, now, Spider-Man, show me how capable you are of surviving,” Darth Maul said with a sneer and launched a brutal lightsaber onslaught. Peter managed to block each swing and stab but he knew it was only a matter of time before the monster either wounded him, severed a limb or ended his life.

Concentrating, Peter fought to get in his own blows with the lightsaber, but the ‘red skull’ was too quick and his attacks too strong. Peter sensed a door behind him. Leaping up, he kicked backward, hitting the door’s controls and stepped back into the dimly lit room hoping to use the narrow doorway as a means of limiting the villain’s attacks.

“Brilliant strategy,” Darth Maul said with a laugh suddenly pushing his hand in the air toward Peter. Peter was well out of the man’s reach, but he still felt something hit him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling back onto the floor. Peter turned, briefly looked and realized they were in one of the city’s power control stations on a balcony inside Tower 43 overlooking a series of conduits and capacitors within and below the base of the tower.

With one free hand, Peter retaliated by firing a webline onto the ‘red skull’s chest. Before Peter could yank him from his feet, Darth Maul cut the webline with a curiously upraised hairless eyebrow.

“What sort of creature are you?” the ‘red skull’ asked looking at the webbing on his chest. “An interesting species, no doubt.”

Peter scrambled to his feet and fired a barrage of weblines that the ‘red skull’ partially blocked, slicing each of them with the blade from his lightsaber. None of the weblines managed to contact with him, much to Peter’s growing frustration.

“Come now, boy,” Darth Maul said taunting him as he stormed toward him, his lightsaber swatting away the weblines that Peter tried to snag him with. “Have I seen the extent of your skill? Are you resorting to wrapping me up in a web and devouring me like some insect? I am deeply disappointed.”

Peter had no time to respond to the ‘red skull’s insult as the Sith Lord charged him, forcing him back over the ledge onto one of the catwalks over the city power conduits. He didn’t need his spider sense to realize how dangerous a predicament he was in, even as the villain dropped to the walkway.

“What a pathetic creature you are, Spider-Man,” Darth Maul scoffed as he swatted the handrails along both sides of the catwalk with his lightsaber. With a wave of his hand he used the Force to rip the rail on Peter’s left and then the one on his right from the walkway and they fell onto a conduit below loudly bursting into showers of sparks. Peter looked down at the electrified handrails directly below the two of them and the ceiling about six meters above their heads. Looking at the walkway, he realized that its only extra support was provided by the handrails and it shook with every step the ‘red skull’ took toward him.

“And now you’ll die,” the villain spat angrily as walked closer and closer, seemingly disappointed in the fight Peter had given him.

Peter grinned beneath his mask.

“Not today.”

With a quick single broad swipe, Peter slashed the blade of his lightsaber through the walkway with one hand as he fired a webline to a ceiling railing with the other. Immediately, the walkway loudly crashed down onto the handrails and conduit. Looking down as he dangled from the ceiling, Peter watched the walkway spark and explode in bright flashes.

“You shouldn’t have been so self-confident,” Peter said quietly to what he assumed was the villain’s burning corpse hidden amongst the sparking and flashing debris laying on the power conduit below.

“I was thinking the same thing about you, Spider-Man,” the ‘red skull’s voice said suddenly from above him. Peter looked up to see that, somehow, the villain had jumped up onto one of the ceiling’s permacrete cross railings. It was the very same one that Peter’s webline was attached to. With a swipe of his red bladed lightsaber, he severed one of the cross railing’s supports and the horizontal permacrete beam immediately cracked.

“Oh, no…” Peter said in realization as the permacrete railing cracked again and began to fall. In one rapid move, Peter deactivated his lightsaber, hung it on his belt and fired another webline toward the ceiling, this time in hope of swinging toward the balcony or a service door. The ‘red skull’ was ahead of him though and just a fraction of a second after his webline connected, another support was severed. All a third webline succeeded in doing was prevent Peter from impacting the floor below with enough force to kill him.

“Agh!” Peter groaned having fallen onto the permacrete flooring that ran beneath the power conduits. His right side felt like he had been stepped on by a Dewback. To some of his relief, he had managed to avoid hitting the walkway, the handrails or the deadly power conduits. Painfully, he struggled to his feet only to realize that the ‘red skull’ had severed another catwalk and that it had fallen so that it now served as a ramp that lead down to the same floor.

“If you are the greatest opponent this galaxy has to offer me in this time, I will be greatly disappointed,” Darth Maul scoffed again.

“Isn’t that like the third time you’ve told me that, Skull-Man?” Peter mocked, his voice unable to mask the pain he was feeling in his ribs. He guessed that they were probably cracked from the fall.

“Insults?” Darth Maul asked angrily. Raising a hand he used the Force and tossed a large chunk of permacrete from the broken ceiling railing in Peter’s direction. Peter easily dodged it but realized too late that it was intended to strike one of the power conduits beside him. When it impacted, it showered Peter with a small torrent of sparks that burnt through his costume.

Peter writhed in pain and had to pull a piece of his burning mask off to prevent it from burning his face. Almost too late, he realized that the villain was almost on top of him. Reaching down, he grabbed for his lightsaber only to have it slip out of his grasp and into his enemy’s outreached hand. Before Peter could web him or the lightsaber, another piece of broken permacrete slammed into his left side throwing him to the floor.

“All too easy,” Darth Maul said as he approached Peter raising his lightsaber. In what Peter feared to be his last few moments, he heard a strange dull noise of what sounded like a bell. About to slash him with his long-handled lightsaber, the villain seemed oblivious to the sound it until he looked up in sudden realization.


Darth Maul turned just in time as a red, white and blue disk sailing through the air impacted into his chest sending him flying back over Peter and tumbling onto the floor almost into a power conduit.

Peter began to climb as best he could to his feet and looked at the ‘red skull’ who was shaking his head to regain his bearings. Next to Peter, slowly spinning like a coin about to fall to the ground was the mysterious disk. It was nearly a meter in diameter and had two red and one white circular stripes with a white, five pointed star in its center within a circle of blue.

Suddenly, the disk jumped off of the floor and sailed into the hand of its owner, a strong looking human man wearing an a uniform that was all blue except for its white arms and vertical red and white stripes on its abdomen. Peter realized the man probably saved his life.

“Thank you,” Peter said as the man took his hand and lifted him the rest of the way to his feet.

“Don’t mention it,” the man replied looking at the ‘red skull’. “Darth Maul is a powerful opponent. It wasn’t wise to try and take him on by yourself.”

“Darth…?” Peter began to ask. “Well, it didn’t start out like…”

“Captain Alderaan,” the Sith Lord spat. “Across time and space I have traveled only to find you here, my old friend. Is this your apprentice?”

“I’m afraid not,” Capt. Alderaan replied, stretching out his hand and using the Force to retrieve Peter’s lightsaber which was lying beside the Sith Lord. “This is the first time we’ve met.”

“Then you will die together,” Darth Maul replied standing to his feet and reactivated his own lightsaber still tightly in his grip. This time a blade extended from both ends of the weapon.

*snap-hiss* *snap-hiss*

Capt. Alderaan smiled and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You can’t fight in your present condition. You’ll only endanger us both by staying. I know you want to argue against it, but you must leave. Now.”

Peter didn’t know why, but he trusted the man’s judgement.

Still, Peter hesitated before firing a webline and swung up to the balcony of the control room. As he did, Capt. Alderaan raised his shield with one hand and pulled his own lightsaber from his belt activating its blue blade.


“So brave, so foolish, Son of Alderaan,” the Sith Lord spat. “

Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

13 Jun 2016, 20:12 #4

two stories

my story is almost ready
will submit asap

Joined: 17 Oct 2013, 02:44

14 Jun 2016, 01:12 #5

Starting this month with some good reads
One of the worlds greatest pleasures is secret knowledge. Things you learn that your peers don't know, or imagine you know. Its the lifetime batting average of every member of the Yankees, stats of Desert Storm, or the names and home-worlds of legions of Superheroes. Commit this knowledge to memory, and you can speak the private language of those who have approached this with equal dedication.

The will of the warrior is the resolute acceptance of death - Musashi

PS4: Redsledge
Xbox1: RedsledgeBLU

Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

15 Jun 2016, 19:52 #6

Gee... I've got again only 10min. left
a lovely perspective, isn't it?

Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

15 Jun 2016, 20:13 #7

and here's my story:

Sometimes all goes wrong… very wrong...

When Thor’s daughter Kesti turned eighteen, she asked Thor to show her round the Earth. Thor wasn’t the same self-confident and wise king as before Loki’s disappearance; although he was full of doubts, he couldn’t explain even to himself why. The Tesseract, dimly suppressed for so many years already, was no help to him either. All that caused, that Thor agreed to Kesti’s request. In total to Earth went also Loki’s children Kiran, Greta and Marysha with ashes of their mum and grandma, that they wanted to say farewell according to human tradition. Ashira, the second Thor’s daughter didn’t want to leave her mother alone.


The Earth showed up to them very romantically, especially to Kesti.

Kiran spontaneously joined Martin Stark, who with passion presented him all possible aspects of human life: they attended numerous races, they were flying different aircrafts round the planet and were eagerly tested further regional intoxicants, to which Martin seemed to have unlimited access. Kiran had become familiar with parties blackened with smoke which in the best case made him dizzy, and in the worst he woke up the next afternoon with a total blackout in his mind. Only on girls he had never agreed – A Frost Giant has to fall in love, otherwise he’s much too aggressive – he refused Martin, who didn’t have such a mental block.

Marysha was taken care by Pepper; together with Any (ups… I’m sorry I unconsciously took Pepper’s side not the one of Tony – after Ana’s birth Pepper asked Tony, how to name their daughter, Tony didn’t think much about it and said: - You can give her any name, I will love her the same – Pepper only lifted her eyebrows to that and named her daughter Anyana) so together with Ana, Marysha visited the Earth in a different way: the opera – Marysha fell in love with it, she learned Italian and enjoyed the silence of Italian churches: there she rested, while Pepper and Ana were buying new clothes in Milano.

Kesti and Greta, both equally hardened and brave, and with lots of sparkle, learned in the meantime how to climb up the mountains; Kesti wasn’t aware how much she was similar to her mother in this way.

And Thor? He used to spend the time on Earth together with Tony and Bruce in the laboratory. Searching for Loki they checked out further parts of the universe (officially they were working on its three-dimensional map). Thor and (earlier) Loki passed a lot of their knowledge to the humans. Working on their own only, people wouldn’t collect so much information even in the far future.


At the end Martin threw a party for their farewell. Pepper didn’t agree for Ana and Marysha to join it, Thor decided to meet Steve Rogers and Vision, but popped in at the beginning of the party to check if everything was all right. And so it started in Tony’s tower…


On the top terrace, if you looked carefully enough, you could see Loki’s tower: it was still lit up, some floors had been given to the students, who did crazy experiments in the laboratory part. Kesti sat on the terrace and really admired this world, it was always on the move, even now at the night time, those humans… they were all the day round seeking something, and even if they lived peacefully and had everything they needed, they saw more and better could be achieved for them and they desired it. Downstairs loud music, laughter and screams mixed up together, dampened only by French windows. Nevertheless she could hear the strong voice of Greta from time to time.

Kesti got up, put her hands on the railing and closed her eyes. She thought of Asgard: there everything had its place, even the small butterflies on their beloved meadow, where together with Greta, they flew away to escape the guardians: the butterflies learned to fly round them, so that the girls would not be disturbed. While here… every day something could happen, that turned your life inside out on a whim. The son of Tony, for example, changed his daily schedule every second if possible, no… he developed it, and did all this to press even more fun, more emotions, more information out of the day, as if he jumped from one Higgs’ element to the other, before it fell apart, and this way he speeded up through the whole day, every day.

– Oh, I see, that also in Asgard live those who can dream! – Martin went out of his bedroom; he lit a cigarette, that gave a fresh, citrus aroma, black locks went down almost on his nose, he threw them back.

– Would you like to see, how it is there, on our planet? –

– Sure, but I wouldn’t stay there for long… Tony’s suit protects from your beasts, but not from aging, that in Asgard speeds up for us significantly –

– This is due to lack of energy, here on Earth there is a lot of light and warmth split up, spread around; you just bathe in it like in a soup… -

- Do you see all this? – Martin asked somewhat surprised.

She denied him – No, I can feel it, actually we wouldn’t have to eat here, only drink a little –

– So why… - he wondered.

- To be together with your kind, and not to hurt you with our refusal; probably our children should eat here… to be able to grow –

– You’d better not grow anymore, you’re big enough – Martin remarked honestly.

She smiled.

Martin watched her admiring her bright cat-like eyes, he went closer and cuddled her – Come on, I’ll mix up a drink for… -

She stood back rapidly.

- … you – he finished.

– You shouldn’t have touched me! – Kesti said it angrily.

– Here! Wasn’t that pleasant? –

She went red at that – Well, no… but the Asgardians touch each other after they have exchanged their names first –

– I am sorry, my name’s Martin, though you know it very well… -

- No, it doesn’t work this way, the exchange of names is a kind of… engagement, a kind of taking care but also of controlling each other then – Kesti explained.

Martin burst out with laughter – This we’ve given up long ago, I think – he narrowed his eyes –
So, my Asgardian princess – he bowed to her deeply – Would you allow me to bring you a drink, mixed up by myself, that hopefully won’t make you grow more, so that I could look straight into your beautiful violet-cat-like eyes? –

She laughed to that – Yes, please –


Martin had a new plan, he prepared first the drink for Kesti, then poured some lemon water for himself. On the way back he pulled something to Kesti’s drink and because of that he bumped into Jenny – Oh Jenny! Are you prepared for tomorrow? We fly tomorrow, just you and me, don’t we? – he babbled clearly confused.

Jenny smiled to him, but she didn’t manage to answer, because Martin was already gone upstairs.


Kesti waited for him, he came nearer satisfied with himself and gave her the drink.

– Mmm, I haven’t tested something like that before, several tastes and something more, slightly stimulating… -

- For sure – Martin sipped his lemon water.

– I see totally different stars in the sky here – she whispered – In Asgard they are in smaller numbers, therefore our nights are much darker –

– It looks that everything is different in Asgard –

– No, not different, the same substance but in an alternative version – Kesti smiled at him while answering.

– And what about your uncle? He wasn’t present at the burial… - Martin asked, this way he wanted to reward one lass, which most probably was listening to their conversation from an opposite building right now.

Kesti massaged her neck – He’s a Frost Giant, so he takes care about his kind. The Giants live next to us, but don’t mix – she moved her head sideways.

– Are you all right? – Martin asked in a worried tone.

– Yes, only my neck got somehow stiff –

– Would you like some water to drink? – he came closer.

Kesti looked into his face and blinked her eyes several times – Waater? – she drawled. Suddenly she shuddered and raised her hand to massage the neck.

But Martin was first to do this – I mean only to massage it, nothing behind that, really, you can close your eyes –

Kesti laughed – Thank you, I am all right now –

– So, what now? Some water? Cola? Or maybe another drink? – he was eagerly throwing out his questions, one after another.

– Hmm… a drink, but a different one… I’ve found the mixture of different tastes quite enjoyable… -

- Well, you should stay with me for few months more to taste them all! – he said loudly opening the door to the noisy inside.


This time to Kesti’s drink there were put two pills, she drunk it eagerly, at big gulps. Martin went quite close to her, he was sure that they all are subtly watched here, so he wanted to make her give herself to him freely, so that he wouldn’t have had any problems later on – I remember you years before, together with Greta you run wild and really fast, I’ve never told it to anyone, but I hardly kept up with you at that time–

Kesti laughed again heartily – And we were not racing against you, as we didn’t want you to feel worse than us –

Martin firmly put his glass away – My dear princess, I ensure you, that I’ve got skills, that make me invincible –

Kesti staggered, Martin caught her and kissed, she didn’t protest – I am dizzy… -

- Come on – Martin whispered and holding her tightly he took her to his bedroom.


- He’ll kill me! – Martin thought later on looking at sleeping Kesti – And what now? – he got up and went to take a shower. Then he put on new clothes and went to the dancing guests, he decided to make himself really dead drunk this time.


Kiran was playing cards, quite concentrated, although from time to time he cast a glance through the glass door at his sister Greta, who danced passionately. He wasn’t worried about her, she was totally independent and learned perfectly how to fight and how to control her fears, even confronted with the Giant standards none could deny she was good. And Kiran liked to watch her: except for the hair she took after their father, the same as Marysha after their mum. Their parents… Kiran closed his eyes for a while, he felt suddenly lonely, although after his prayer in the morning he was sure of their presence close to him. He saw Martin, who jumped like a madman wearing only boxing-shorts. Kiran lifted his brows only and returned to his play.


Kesti woke up, and sat on the bed. It took her some minutes to go back in time to the recent events, she covered her face with both hands and then rubbed her forehead. A while later she took a shower and went out to the terrace. And then she went proudly downstairs to the others.

Martin was so soused, that he didn’t recognize her.

Kesti leant against the wall and watched people at the party; her eyes went slowly dark, she felt more and more pulsation in the temples, her whole head was in a whirl, she blinked her eyes several times.

- Hold your breath and count to ten… - was coming from the speakers - … my heart burns… for this is the end – the gathered people spontaneously tried to sing an already old song from a Bond’ movie.

Kesti turned away from Martin, then moving steadily but slowly she went to the passage and to the kitchen hereafter. She searched there for something, but it did not take long. Probably she found nothing for her there because she appeared soon in the main hall and slowly went straight upstairs.

She stood then on the terrace alone, the tears falling down her cheeks.


Greta saw Kesti from within the hall through the two floors high glass wall and was already crossing a dance hall going to the stairs when Martin pulled her to dance with him.


Kesti looked at the stars and went to Martin’s bedroom, she circled round his bed and then on a book-shelf she saw it. Loki! If you knew, how horribly your arrow-knife with which you stabbed Thor during the first Alien War will continue to follow the black thoughts of its master!
Kesti took it, went back to the terrace, sat down leaning against the aluminum frame and with two short moves she cut both her wrists.


Loki sitting imprisoned on the Throne of the Nameless tore at the blockades, he rather thought of revenge than of suicide, but Kesti was not a Giant woman, she was from Asgard, and to that the one with a Terian honor.


Tony’s building was shaken to its foundations. Martin laughing fell over.


Kiran stopped to play, went out to the hall: Greta was still dancing. He saw Martin who sat on the floor – Have you seen Thor’s daughter? –

– She’s asleeep, brooo… – Martin answered mumbling.

– Asleep? – Kiran asked surprised.

– Yea, sure – Martin answered negligently – I took her… to… my beedroom –

Kiran helped Martin to get up, he looked around and went back to play cards.


Greta had a lot of fun; even the Giants weren’t so lively; all, what she consisted of, was dancing: her body, her mind and her soul. But finally she felt terribly tired, the music echoed in her mind multiplying all the sounds, she started then to look with her sharp eyes for Kesti and saw Martin reeling significantly – Where’s Thorasera? –

– I’ve told… you al…ready, that shee’s sleeeping in my baad…room – Martin, who just a while ago had had another drink, didn’t recognize anymore to whom he was talking to.

Greta felt uneasy, she saw Kesti some time ago, maybe one hour… on the terrace… She went upstairs then.


Greta’s scream was so expressive, that Kiran abruptly sprang to his feet and at full speed hurried up to look for her; he run upstairs too.


Martin slowly, leaning by every step against the wall followed him.


Kiran saw Greta was crying, then he helplessly kneeled in front of Kesti’s body.


It was the sunrise already, when Martin made the first step onto the top-terrace.

– Asleep?! You told me, that she was asleep! – Kiran roared at him immediately.

– Beecause she waas – Martin tried to avoid Kiran’s direct gaze.

– Did you… -

- Yea, we… haad some fun – Martin mumbled his answer.

– You stinking ignorant drunk! – Kiran rushed to Martin and heaved him up catching at his throat – I will…-

- Kiran leave him… - Greta said - …for me. It’s my turn now – it was the most steeliest voice Kiran had ever heard. She stood astride watching, how Kesti was slowly turning to a grey ash.

Martin saw a glimpse of metal in Greta’s hand.


Loki tore again at the Throne and again the walls of the building gave a sudden tremble.


Martin thrown by Kiran fell down to the green ground; both: the hit and his fear made him sober up – I didn’t force her, she didn’t protest! –

– What have you done to her?! In her normal state she would have never ever agreed to that! – Greta hissed at him almost soundlessly.

– I didn’t know – Martin was breathing heavily from fear - …that they will have such impact on her, I’ve… -

Greta tensed, the muscles on her face became visible, she bowed over the crouched Martin reaching with her hands closer at him.

– …given her three… -


Loki roared so intensively, that the Throne, where he sat, cracked. He was roaring further throwing himself and then around him the stones, that made up the Throne. And Tony’s tower fell apart, literally, burying all the people inside with it.


Thor felt, that he was collapsing within his mind – Loki? – he whispered surprised, and he tensed.

– What’s up? – Steve asked him. And Vision quickly concentrated on checking the issue in a more sophisticated way: by searching through the web.

Thor started to turn the Mjonir.

– We’ll go with you – declared Steve.

Thor caught the Captain by his neck, like he once did with Loki – Maybe this time it was the humans who messed up something? – such thought came to him.


From afar they saw dust and smoke covering part of the city. Kiran and Greta were sitting on the ground leaning against each other; but without Vision’s help it would take Thor a lot of time to find them. Upwards Tony’s flying suit could also be seen. Thor looked at Loki’s children – Don’t tell me, it isn’t your making! – he said in a terribly deep tone, almost thundering by himself.

They both crouched, from fear of him, and from their pain.

Thor observed them for a while longer – Do I not deserve to be given some explanation? – he asked in a lighter tone.

They were still silent.

Thor first now noticed, that Kesti was not with them – And where’s… -

- She’s no more here – Kiran looked up with eyes filled with tears – She’s… - he took a deep breath – …dead–

Thor felt a blow within his head, he went closer by some steps to the already not existing tower; for a while he searched for the truth in his mind, suddenly he turned back – You! – he said coming closer to them, actually he meant it to Kiran – You didn’t protect her! And you wanted to become a king?! – he raised his hammer.

– Hit down! – Kiran said – I did not kill her, but there is no life left for me anymore –

- Thor?! – Vision decided to prevent Thor from killing his own nephew.


Thor barked dangerously towards Vision, he would probably attempt to smash Kiran with his hammer, but he heard, no… he felt Loki’s roaring and he hesitated.


– She cut her ve-eins, aafter the son of Tony Stark was… with he-er –

Thor threw a fevered look at the stuttering Greta – The Scepter is in Tony’s new laboratory! Deep underground! So with what could she…. – he reposted her hoarsely.

– With this – Greta held out her hand with Loki’s arrow-knife in it. She had overcome her fears, but the sorrow was still there in her mind and eyes.

Thor terrified made a step to the back, he felt an ache in his left side as if he was stabbed there again.

– I am sorry – Greta burst with tears – This all, this party… was so wild. This is not our world, this is chaos, where only humans can get on, if it is possible at all; we do not fit in here… take us back home… or smash us… please! –

Kiran cuddled Greta.

– Where is the son of Tony Stark? – Thor rumbled the question.

Greta screwed up her lips instead of answering and showed again the arrow-knife looking directly into Thor’s face.


Tony, who landed next to Steve Rogers a while ago, closed his eyes.


– And what about your other sister? – Thor turned again to Kiran.

– I don’t know… - Kiran visibly crouched - She should be as usual in the morning, in the swimming pool right now together with Ana… with the daughter of Tony Stark – Kiran finished switching to Asgardian way of speaking.

Thor withered Kiran with a look full of hatred, so intensively that Kiran felt childish and stupid.

– I’ll bring them – Tony declared.

– No, we go together – Thor snarled – I don’t trust anyone, who lives on this cursed planet, and you – he looked at Kiran and Greta – Don’t move, even by one step! -


And then everything happened quickly: Thor without any explanation taking the surprised Marysha with him, went back to pick up Kiran and Greta and using the Tesseract he relocated them back to Asgard.

From those with alien origin only Vision and Loki’s scepter remained on Earth.

And hidden deeply underground there was the Tetrahedron which was created by inspiration of the two brothers.

Tony Stark had to face huge problems: it made no sense to hide the truth about Loki’s disappearance and about the stone. He wasn’t sentenced for the state’ betrayal only because he passed over everything he possessed to the state, including the terrestrial Holy Stone, the Tetrahedron. Worn to a shadow he retreated from his scientific life to the countryside, and swore, he will never create anything new, because it would be for the wrong of all. Even Nick Fury, who all the time tried to support him, could not convince him to change his mind.


Well… this is not the end of this story. And what about Loki?

Joined: 28 Apr 2014, 11:02

21 Jun 2016, 21:00 #8

In this issue, SHIELD Agents Clint Barton and Scott Lang are on the hunt for dangerous bio-terrorist, the Viper! Having chased her across Europe, they’ve finally found her: at a technological auction in the mountains of Sokovia! But just when they think they’ve caught her off guard … she reveals her deadly plans!

Nothing was the same.

“What the hell is this?” Scott Lang roared, his black hair whipping through the air as the car raced down the street at a hundred miles an hour. Hands gripping the wheel tightly, he took control of the vehicle, as the former driver was now pushing himself out the side window. “None of this makes sense!”

“So what you’re telling me is,” Clint replied, leaning out the other window, a bow and arrow in hand. “Is that you’ve been a SHIELD agent for almost two years now and you don’t know how to drive manual?”

“The stupid car didn’t even have an ignition! I’m sorry I don’t have experience driving billion dollar cars!” Scott shouted back, struggling to get the hang of all the new controls.

Fingers loosedand the arrow was released. Racing down to the car opposite, it struck against the side of the car, narrowly missing the tyre. Clicking his teeth with disappointment, the purple-clad hero looked back at his ‘driver’ and replied, “You know, for a nerd, you ain’t all that smart, kid! Although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised! The whole ‘Asian driving’ thing is true, huh?”

There was a loud screeching noise, as another car flew overhead. Literally flew over their heads from one of the rocky cliffs to their side. Scott and Clint both ducked and, for the briefest moment, Scott lost control of the wheel, forcing the car to swerve. The side of the mountain they were driving along was wide, but with two cars in hot pursuit, any loss of control would prove deadly. Like right now. Over the sound of the roaring engine above them, gunshots could be heard. They riddled the side of the expensive car’s metal frame, before Scott managed to steer them back in the right direction.

“That’s harassment! And damn it, stop calling me ‘kid’!” Scott snapped in response, not taking his dark eyes off the road.

“Oh,” Clint snorted, as he drew another arrow, having to deal with a third car attacking them. The real problem was that the fourth car – the one in front of them – was beginning to get away. “So, we’re under attack by some of the most dangerous people in the world and you’re worried about ageist jokes. Not even the racist one, the ageist one.”

Refusing to answer that question, Scott veered to the left as the mountain took a winding turn. The car that had flown over them was coming up beside them now and, with vicious ferocity, slammed into the side of their car while Clint was aiming at another one. He lost his balance and the arrow went astray. One of the passengers in the car beside them, a red Lamborghini, leaned out and tried to grab at the archer. Clint, however, struck out with a heavy right fist and then thrust his bow forward, catching the man’s chest. His back hit the roof of the car, exposing his chest and, without hesitation; Clint grabbed his swirling black tie and hurled him out of the car.

Keeping the car steady, Clint was about to fire another arrow at the driver, when more gunshots came toward them. His curse was lost to the sound of wind rushing up around them, as he ducked back into the car. Breathing heavily, Clint looked in the side mirrors, trying to see if he could mark the distance while he was safe inside. Except a bullet shattered the glass as soon as he did.

“Come on, old man,” Scott said, amusedly. “Losing your touch?”

Clint just snorted, retrieving his arrow first. He adjusted the purple sunglasses he wore, before asking: “What, you think I just live at home with my dog and do nothing all day?”

Furrowing his brow, Scott asked: “Wait … you have a dog?”

Moving out through the window again, this time Clint leaned almost entirely vertical. The only reason he wasn’t falling out was because his leg was hooked into the seatbelt. Showing incredible core strength and the kind of aim that gave him the name ‘Hawkeye’, he fired another arrow just as they started shooting again. The arrow whizzed between the bullets and struck through the Porsche’s windshield, shattering it and catching the driver in the chest. Once the hit was made, Clint hugged the side of their car, watching the Porsche swerve off the side of the road.

“Seems like such a waste,” he sighed. There was still another car, though and this one had lingered at the back, not making any direct contact with them. Almost as if it were stalking them. Watching it with cautious eyes, Clint leaned back in, not wanting to risk his life unnecessarily and replied, “And yes, I have a dog. But hey, you got eyes on that last one? The Alpha Romeo?”

“Yeah, I see it,” Scott responded, checking his rear view for the briefest of moments, before handing Clint the wheel back. The archer rested his bow between his legs before taking the wheel and following its winding, if not wide, path. “Why?”

“Just wondering why it hasn’t attacked us yet —whoa!” Clint gasped, as he suddenly had to shift lanes. The car they had been pursuing, a dark green Ferrari had just appeared in front of them. The headlights were off and, having to rely solely on the starlight beaming down through the grey clouds of Sokovia, they’d both missed it. “Oh, great. They’re trapping us!”

Like a serpent, the three cars moved in unison. Whenever Clint tried to shift out of their way, the car in front would move, then, the car behind would slam up behind them. Scott grabbed his pistol and, still wearing his tight tuxedo, went to lean out his side of the car, as Clint had done. But as soon as he did, the car behind rammed into them and Scott was shoved forward. He grabbed on to the side of the car’s roof, trying to steady himself. And as he did, that was when he saw something in their back seat. Something that was shining a bright green.

“Uh-oh,” Scott grunted, as he pushed himself back into the car.

“Uh-oh? What uh-oh?” Clint asked, clearly alarmed. Frantically scrambling beside him, Clint looked over and saw Scott reaching underneath his seat. Clint tried to see what he was grabbing and, when he saw a helmet with red-tinted eyes, scowled in confusion: “What are you doing? Why are you putting your seatbelt on? Why are you praying? Scott, what the hell—”

Scott reached out and placed an arm over Clint as the machine in the back of the car in front of them was shoved through the glass. They were more than just trapped. Realising the situation, Clint tried to swerve out of the way again, but too late. The car behind them had the same weapon and, in a burst of shimmering, green energy their car was caught in the deadly crossfire. The last thing they saw was U.L.T.R.O.N’s face.

xMatt Presents…
Outstanding Marvel Team Up #1
Hive Mind featuring Scott Lang and Clint Barton!

U.L.T.R.O.N’s face was glaring back at them from the stage. Its menacing glare gave a stark contrast to the formal attire and business-like smiles plastered on everyone else in the room. As a SHIELD agent and, prior to that, a scientist from Miami, Scott Lang wasn’t exactly used to the expectations of the black-tie parties. While most kids wanted to be famous actors or singers, Scott, the little Asian kid reading his maths book in English class, had never dreamed he’d be in a country like Sokovia, wearing a tuxedo that was more expensive than his apartment back home and with a fur coat that would bring the fury of PETA down on him. But here he was. In fact, Scott had a gun designed by the best SHIELD weaponeers strapped to his thigh and that was probably the cheapest thing he had on.

Aside from his underwear.

SHIELD didn’t provide those.

Now that he was an Agent, though, a spy, Scott needed to adapt. It was a role that was vastly different to his role as a scientist, where everything was planned in advance. Sure, there was a part of that planning and preparing involved with being a spy. But considering his partner … Scott figured planning wasn’t exactly going to be a big thing. Especially when this partner, blonde hair sleeked back and purple sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, sauntered over with two glasses of sparkling, white wine.

“Drinking on the job?” Scott asked, folding his arms and refusing the wine. “Real professional.”

Clint Barton shrugged. “More for me, I guess. And remember, we have to fit in here, kid. Look around. Everyone has a drink in hand. If there’s one thing these people enjoy more than crushing the souls of their enemies, it’s a good drink.”

Scott scowled, as he turned away from Barton. He had a purple scarf, satin, draped over his shoulders, as they continued to move through the lavish location. The floor was tiled, black and white, polished so cleanly that Scott could see his reflection in it. There was an ice sculpture in the middle of the room, the body of a crystalline Adonis watching over them all. Waiters in white tuxedos and red bow-ties were floating around the room with silver platters on their steady hands, carrying morsels of food and glasses of alcohol.

The chandelier overhead was filling the room with bright, golden light. It made the room look like it was washed in sepia. But for all this brightness, for all this grandeur, Scott knew that it was fake. The bright lights were a stark contrast to the dark hearts that resided within the people that were attending. There were known terrorists in the room, men and women who had been on SHIELD’s Most Wanted List for years. They had the money to attend a six figure auction, so of course they had the money to make everything as grand as possible.

Scott just never expected the black market to be so bright.

Or play such good music.

“You got your phone on you? Your actual phone, not the radio they gave us,” Scott asked. His head was bopping to the music, a black, sweeping fringe that wouldn’t have been out of place on a K-Pop poster bouncing against his forehead. “I want to Shazam this song.”

“Of course you like this club trash,” Clint said, rolling his eyes from behind the purple sunglasses. They were indoors. Why was he even wearing them at all? “Now who’s being the professional?”

Couldn’t deny that. Scott scoffed, though and shook his head. Clint was just old. Great agent of SHIELD, but he didn’t appreciate the finer sounds of female vocals over the top of deep bass and an electric drum kit. Looking around, though, the music was just decoration – like everything else in the room. The real prizes were resting on a dais, a spotlight shining down on them. There were four items on sale for this first session of the auction. First on the list, were gauntlets that would allow the user to create earthquakes. The starting price for those was eight hundred thousand dollars.

And that was just to start. They had a nice sign at the front of the estate, with a long list of items that were being sold. The second one, resting beside the gauntlets was a suit of armour with a glowing circle in the middle of its red and gold chestplate. As it was just the chestplate, they were going to start that one at nine hundred thousand. The next two, however, were the ones that pushed the six figure boundary. The third thing on sale was a decapitated U.L.T.R.O.N head, while the fourth was a helmet. In comparison to the other three items, it looked entirely uninspiring. But Scott recognised the technology. Recognised it, because he had helped design it.

The helmet would allow the user to communicate with insects, while the belt would make them shrink or grow in size, depending on what they wanted to achieve. A blueprint that Scott and Hank had worked together for his tenure as Yellowjacket, but had never gone through. Whoever had procured these items clearly had a link to the superhero community. Or had at least been following them very closely. In the wrong hands, these were items that could bring down entire cities. And from the look of the smug, rich men and women, Scott figured they were exactly the wrong hands.

“Heads up. The Viper is in the building,” Clint whispered, turning his back as he surveyed the other side of the gilded room. “Six o’clock … no, your six o’clock.”

Turning on his feet, Scott saw two men and three women enter the estate. They looked just as thuggish and slimy as the rest of the crowd. But Scott could see why Clint had drawn his attention to them. Because these three individuals were the ones that Clint and Scott had gotten dressed up to find. They were the competition. Because these three were going to steal the four items on the stage. Leading the other two men was a dark haired woman with eyes greener than envy. The other two, broad of shoulder and small of brain, followed her step. Those two would be trouble to deal with … but the woman would be like an oiled viper to catch – hence the codename Clint had given her. Realising the threat, Scott nodded once and then walked to the other end of the room, leaving Clint with the two drinks in his hand.

“Keep in touch, kid,” Clint whispered, before they separated.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’, ‘old man’,” was Scott’s reply, as he disappeared into the crowd. The night had begun and all the revels that came with it. Revels that would end in explosions, gunfire and car chases. The usual SHIELD evening.

Pushing the side of his sunglasses, the vision through his sunglasses changed. Instead of regular vision, it took on a sight which allowed him to spot the weapons everyone had. They were all tucked away, some more evident than others. But when he looked over at the three new arrivals, he saw that the two goons had a cylindrical device, on the inside of their jackets. His first thought wa a bomb, but he was able to see that neither of them had fuses. They were separating from the Viper, heading to one of the back rooms. He’d need to get closer to inspect it better. So, still holding the wine, he doubled around, making sure to follow them from behind while Scott kept his eyes on the Viper.

Wearing sunglasses indoors wasn’t something Clint did on a regular basis, but with the special tech he had, he could forgive the fashion faux-pas this time. Besides, of all the things happening in this Sokovian estate, a guy wearing sunglasses indoors was the least strange. Walking around, the blonde-haired SHIELD agent could see men with glowing eyes and women with scaled skin all talking around the water fountain.

This little auction had attracted all manner of scum from the darkest parts of the planet. Clint had seen them all, in his many years as an agent of SHIELD. What he hadn’t seen, was how well they were all getting along. This was the first time that he’d been to a black market auction like this. He was o used to waiting out in abandoned warehouses or dank dungeons in the underground. On those occasions he’d walked around with hoodies and waited in a van with tinted windows. But just because things had a new coat of paint here, didn’t make them any less dangerous.

“Scott,” Clint said, into his radio. Voice low, covering it up with a glass of wine at his mouth, he continued, “I’ve got eyes on the goons. They’re making their way into one of the lower rooms. I’m going to pursue.”

“No arguments from me,” was Scott’s reply. “I’ll keep an eye on things up here. The auction is going to start soon, so whatever is they’re going to do, it’s going to happen any minute now.”

Clint sighed, as he watched them force their way into the one of the rooms. With their strength alone, they’d managed to break the lock and move inside. Clint, losing sight of them with his glasses, quickly jaunted over. Making sure that no one else was following after him, he slipped inside after them. Thankfully, the announcer had started talking just as Clint made his move, everyone in the crowd turning their attention to the dais.

“You still have eyes on the Viper?” Clint asked, as he saw the two goons rounding a corner. Considering for a moment, he said, “Wonder why she isn’t down here with them…”

“Probably because,” Scott replied, settling his thin, black eyes on the target. She had an arm pressed against one of the men, laughing and flirting with him. “She’s preoccupied up here. Getting pretty comfortable with the clientele.”

“Of course,” Clint noted, as he undid the bowtie he was wearing and taking the top button off. These kinds of shirts were always too tight around his neck. Or maybe his neck was just always too fat for them. “She’s the distraction. How close is she to the dais?”

The younger of the two agents craned his neck. With the announcer bringing everyone together, the crowd had become thicker around the stage. But where Viper had once been, now she was gone. Cursing internally, Scott started to slowly make his way through the crowd, finding a spot closer to the stage. She couldn’t have gone far. He’d only taken eyes off her for a few moments. Before he had a chance to tell Clint he’d lost her, a flash of her bright hair and pale skin came before him. Her back was turned to him, but just as Scott came in proximity, she turned around. Her eyes settled on him and narrowed, as a wicked grin formed on her face.

“Too close,” Scott replied, when she turned back around. A jolt of fear passed through him. Had she recognised him? Impossible. Scott and Clint had gone to great lengths, making sure that they were anonymous at this party. Whispering again, he asked: “What’s your position? Clint?

But Clint failed to reply.

He was more preoccupied with avoiding getting beat up.

The two goons had been waiting for him. Even bigger in person, they stood at least two heads taller than Clint himself, who was no slouch at around the six feet mark. And they were as strong as they were big. They were in what looked like a basement level and their heads almost scraped the ceiling. Crates and boxes of food and wine were littered throughout the room. Crates that broke Clint’s fall, as one of the brutish goons threw him into it.

“I’m, uh,” Clint grunted, as he got back to his feet, narrowly avoiding a fist from one of the goons. The fist slammed into the wall behind and Clint could’ve sworn he felt the entire room shake from the impact. Breathing heavily and feeling sweat form on his forehead, he replied, with feigned confidence, “Yeah. I’ve got everything under control. You?”

The Viper slowly made her way towards Scott, with the announcer finished thanking the crowd for turning up. As applause took over, Scott straightened his back and made sure that the radio in his ear was hidden beneath his dark hair. He smiled, feeling the warmth rush to his cheeks. It had been a long time since he’d seen Jessica, but an even longer time since a woman like this had approached a man like him. She couldn’t know that he was an agent. Could she?

“You don’t look like the rest of the men here,” she said, in a distinctly Eastern European accent. With a flick of her long hair, revealing her neck and shoulder, she smiled again and added, “You look...”

He knew that it was a distraction, knew that this was some kind of feint. His eyes darted from the Viper, to the stage. The gear was all still there and nothing bad had happened. Yet. But he knew that it was only a matter of time. Through the radio, he could hear Clint struggling in one of the lower levels of the estate, but he would have to ignore them for now. Especially with the Viper so close. Her dress shimmered beneath the light and her eyes twinkled with amusement. This all looked like a game to her.

“Younger?” Scott interjected, with a little laugh. “I figured I’d get into the world domination business early. Less competition that way.”

His words brought a smile to her face, but not the good kind. No, whenever her lips moved, they always seemed to do so with wicked intent. She leaned in, so that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek and ear, as she said: “I was going to say ‘smarter’. And if you really are smart, then you’ll leave me and mine alone.”

Then, she reached out and pressed a finger on his chest. The touch alone sent a great heat through his chest. Looking down, though, he realised that her fingertip had burned a hole through the lapel of his tuxedo. Recoiling, Scott narrowed his eyes at the woman. She let out a little giggle, covering her mouth with those slender, deadly fingers of hers. The agent of SHIELD could smell the burn of the material, wafting up to his nose.

“I,” she teased, “am onto you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott grumbled, although there was clearly little point in denying it.

“Clearly not.” Then, she shrugged, once again revealing slender shoulders and a coyness that other women would’ve killed for. Perhaps this one had. Her final words were as ominous as she was beautiful, before she once again slipped away. “Otherwise … you’d have brought a gas mark.”

With the gear in sight, Scott decided instead to get back in touch with his colleague: “Clint, I’ve been made. What’s your status?”

“Aaargh!” was the reply, as Clint was slammed up against the wall. His glasses had come loose and he watched as the other goon was now holding the two cylinders. The goon that was holding him up against the wall, threatening to crush Clint’s throat and chest, had given his cylinder and was now ordering him to get the job done. Struggling to speak, let alone breathe, Clint flailed against his captor. Feet kicked at the massive goon’s chest, hands clawed at his grubby face. Nothing seemed to work.

The corner of his vision began to darken. It became more and more difficult to attack his captor. Hands dropped by his side and his eyes began to follow. But he couldn’t give up now. He could barely hear Scott’s voice, despite the communication device being in his ear. Everything in the world was falling away. Without his bow and arrow, without any kind of weapon, Clint had no chance against these thugs. And now, one of them was getting away.

Except Clint wasn’t entirely without weapons.

Reaching at his belt, Clint grabbed at the buckle and pressed a button on it. SHIELD-designed, two blades emerged from either side of it. The goon’s eyes widened with shock as the bladed belt buckle came down and slashed a cut along his forearm. The grip loosened and Clint managed to break free from it. Falling to the ground, the breath rushing through his lungs and stars in his eyes, Clint felt a massive boot slam into his gut. Rolling along the ground, still holding the belt buckle, Clint watched as the massive man got closer.

“Ah, it’s good fighting people like you,” Clint coughed, gathering his breath. The other goon had disappeared. Whatever was coming next, Clint just hoped Scott was ready. “I’m so used to fighting big supervillains that love to monologue. But your type? Just quiet. It’s refreshing!”

For a moment, the goon looked like was about to reply.

But instead, he just grunted.

“See? Exactly my point!”

Just as Clint was about to push forward to resume their fight, though, the goon turned on his heel and raced away. Clint gave chase, but the man grabbed some of the crates and threw them to the ground. Leaping over the top of them, he pushed through the door and continued his pursuit of the big man. He used his massive size to break down the doors, not once slowing in his stride and Clint was left to run in the wake of his destruction. Taking another turn, though, Clint watched as the man hurled himself through the window. Letting out a gasp of surprise, he moved up to shattered glass and saw him land on the top of a van.

“Scott? They’re on the move! What’s going on up there?” No reply. Not even the sound of static. He tapped his ear, making sure the device hadn’t broken during the fight. “Hello? Scott!”

Looking up, Clint could see a foul, green smoke coming from the windows above. So thick and great was the smoke that it was beginning to block out the light coming from above. Even from down there, he could smell the putrid aroma coming from the smoke. He coughed, lightly, before lifting his purple scarf up to cover his nose and mouth. The smoke was filling the same room that Scott and Viper were in.
Smoke filled the room.

Followed by panic.

“Everybody, out now!” Someone roared, taking the words right from Scott’s mouth. Except, in the sudden panic, with the green smoke filtering through the air, desperation took hold. Instead of leaving in an orderly fashion, like they should’ve, they ran and shouted and toppled over each other. Except for a few, who had the idea to take the prize they had travelled so far for. Through the haze, his throat constricting already, Scott could see a handful of men and woman racing toward the dais, clutching for whatever item they could get their hands on.

Except, like the Cornucopia of a Hunger Game, the dais became a killing zone. Guns were drawn, fists were thrown and knives were revealed. At the middle of it all was the green-clad Viper. Racing toward the stage himself, he watched as Viper grabbed a man around the throat, used his weight to pull herself into the air and spin around. Her booted feet smashed into a man’s head, drawing blood immediately. Even over the ruckus in the auction room, with the bodies pushing and shoving against Scott, he heard the sound of a nose breaking.

Coughing, Scott felt the adverse effects of the green smoke beginning to take hold. Clutching at his chest, he struggled against the sea of bodies before him. But he wasn’t far now. Not far from the woman who ducked beneath a wayward punch and, with incredible reach and acrobatics, performed a roundhouse kick that sent the man hurtling off the stage. A woman rushed up behind her, knife in hand, but Viper grabbed the woman’s wrist, twisted it – again with a loud snap – and then threw the woman to the ground in an impressive takedown.

“Freeze!” Some of the guards said, guns drawn.

“Die,” was her response.

As if she weren’t enough of a threat, just as Scott reached the dais, he watched as she smoke swirled around her fingertips. With a blow from her puckered, shining lips, the smoke raced towards the guards’ faces. They opened fire too late, as the smoke wrapped around their throats like tendrils and suffocated them to the death. Scott tackled her to the ground while she was distracted and they smashed against the table of items as they did.

“I was waiting for you,” Viper said, sheepishly.

Her legs wrapped around Scott’s waist and she used the strength in them to pull herself up. Lifting an elbow it slammed against Scott’s face, throwing him backward. She hit her back and, in the same motion, bounced back up. Her feet pushed against Scott’s chest and he fell over the broken table. Vulnerable to attack, Scott rolled over quickly and got back to his feet. Almost as soon as he did, Viper was attacking him.

Elbows and legs shooting out like coiled cobras, Scott did all he could to defend her incredible fast attacks. He parried the first, lifted a leg to defend the second, ducked beneath the third. Each time, he tried to spot an opening. Instead, he saw a blur of green as the Viper continued to move with almost superhuman speed. Then, he made one mistake too many and was knocked down again, an open palm smacking him in the middle of his face. Karate Kid in style, she swept her leg against his and, once more, Scott’s back hit the ground.

Looking down beside him, though, he saw the helmet. Dark eyes widening, he reached out for it on instinct. The woman went to kick at him, but he rolled over, picked up the helmet and rose to his feet, just as more men, this time wearing masks, were racing up behind her.

The smoke was becoming too much and he felt his head beginning to spin. He pulled the helmet on and it covered his whole face. He flipped something over the mouthpiece and the smoke was prevented from getting in. But that meant he had a limited amount of air – and time.

“Do you even know what that thing does?” Viper snarled, as her men began to grab at the equipment, littered on the floor.

“Of course,” Scott replied, his voice slightly muffled. “I helped design it.”

He needed to use the helmet.

So he head butted the Viper.

She stumbled backwards, clutching at a now bleeding head. She began to play with the smoke again, making it dance along her fingertips. But Scott was already on the move. Viper was a distraction – the men were getting away with the equipment. He leaped over a table as the smoke began to race after him. It was moving fast, but Scott needed to move faster. The black clad men were pushing through the haze and Scott was beginning to lose them. Leaping over a table, the smoke nipping at his heels, he saw the men push through the front doors.

Swerving right, he jumped up and shattered the nearest window. The glass crinkled around him as he rolled along the dirt. Lifting the mouthpiece, he drew in a deep breathe of air, when he saw the car swerving toward the entrance. Not far from it was an arrow, whizzing through the air. A line tightened and, in the distance, Scott saw Clint Barton racing down it, using his bow. A smile spread on his face.

“Kill them!” Came Viper’s voice from within.

“Something tells me you messed up in there,” Clint said, breathing heavily, as he landed on the ground. He punched through a window and threw Scott the keys.

“Just get in the car!”

The car blew up. Caught between the devastating blast of the U.LT.R.O.N head the Viper had stolen and the energy-gauntlets in the car behind, it didn’t stand a chance. For all the money it had cost to make, for all its fancy design and engine, it was just another hunk of metal in comparison to the power of U.L.T.R.O.N. The last thing Scott Lang had seen was its dastardly face, red-eyes glowing with vicious menace and malevolence.

“How..?” Clint asked, looking around them. He had kept his eyes shut, which was dangerous considering they driving over a hundred miles an hour on a mountainside. But now that they were open, he saw that they were floating harmlessly through the air. “How are we alive? Or is everything just … really big in heaven?”

“Ha!” Scott snorted, from beside the blonde-haired archer. The parachute was drifting through the air, far above the blast. They were getting closer, though and they’d need to leave it, soon, lest they be caught in the flame and smoke of the destroyed car. “You honestly think you’d go to Heaven? And we’re alive … because of this.”

Scott tapped the silver helmet he was wearing. Turning to face him, Clint lifted an eyebrow. He recognised it as the one that had been on the dais at the auction house. He was about to question how and why he’d brought it along, but decided not to stare a gift-Scott in the mouth. Gripping at the locks of the parachute, he kicked his legs out and moved them further to the side, when he heard a loud, screeching noise. Turning away from Scott’s helmeted head, he saw that both cars had come to a skidding halt.

“Check for bodies! I want confirmed kills!” Viper howled, dried blood caked along her hair and forehead. “But most of all … I want that helmet!”

“Psst,” Hawkeye whispered, as the parachute hit the street. The smoke had, thankfully, covered their descent. But how long could they stay hidden like this? “You made her angry, so you’re the one who has to come up with the plan. And that plan better not involve me being the size of an ant for much longer!”

Scott nodded once and examined the scene of the blast. The car’s metal had been torn to pieces, littered across the ground. The flames and embers from the explosion was still hot, but the Viper’s men were wearing the masks they’d had on when they released the green poison in the auction house. Putting the pieces together in his mind, Scott smiled a sheepish grin.

“Oh, I’ve got a plan…” he said.

Viper walked among the wreckage, examining the flames. Her men were stalking through it, shoving bits of metal aside with thick, gloved hands. The fumes meant nothing to her, though the heat was bringing a sweat to her forehead. Looking around, though, she saw no trace of the bodies that should have been incinerated in the blast. She had brought the U.L.T.R.O.N head out with her, the flames reflected off its metallic sheen. Long dead, the robot still had more power in it than even their organisation’s best weaponry.

Wherever they had gone, it wasn’t here. Peering over the edge of the cliff face, there was no way they could’ve survived. The mountains of Sokovia were sharp and strong and she had seen no evacuation prior to the blast. Confusedly, she wondered what kind of trickery the SHIELD agents had performed to escape her.

“Find them! They have to be here somewhere!” Viper declared, furiously.

“Oh, we are,” came Clint’s voice, through the smoke. Bow and arrow in hand, he had it aimed straight at Viper. “Miss us?”

Before any of them had a chance to reply, the arrow was shot through the air. It moved so fast, swirling through the smoke of the flames and struck one of the big men in the chest. But before it did, the ant-sized Scott Lang leapt from the arrowhead. In mid-air, he grew in size and landed a devastating blow to Viper’s chin. Increasing so quickly and moving as fast as he was gave him all the momentum and speed he needed to catch her unawares.

The blow was enough to lift her off her feet, while the other guard was knocked off his from the arrow. They went to draw their weapons, but another arrow was shot towards them. Catching the guard’s hand, the gun was thrown over the side. Scott, still wearing the helmet, went after the Viper in combat, while Clint released his arrows at an incredible speed. Catching their enemies off guard had meant the battle was in their favour.

With the flames as a backdrop, Scott Lang continued his attacks on Viper. She was holding the U.L.T.R.O.N head and swung it toward him. Scott ducked underneath and disappeared in a flash, using the helmet’s powers to shrink him down to size. Viper looked around, her eyes wide with anger, as she tried to spot Scott. Appearing behind her, he slammed his fist into the back of her shoulder, shoving her forward and loosening her grip on the U.L.T.R.O.N head. Roaring, Viper turned and activated the head once more, another massive beam of red energy shooting towards him.

But Scott was already on the move. He lifted his knee, but it was deflected by Viper’s hand. She struck out with an elbow, but Scott dropped his head so that it hit the helmet. Viper recoiled and tried to sweep her leg against his once more. The SHIELD agent had learned his lesson though and shifted to the side, absorbed the impact with his movement and then dropped a fist into the side of her face, forcing her to the ground.

Disarming her and taking the U.L.T.R.O.N head from her hands, Scott aimed it at her face. “It’s over,” Scott snarled. “And if you say ‘cut off one head and another two take its place’, I swear I’m using the U.L.T.R.O.N head on you!”

Viper couldn’t help but laugh at that. She spat blood from her mouth and turned back to face him. She looked so confident, despite having a weapon thrust in her face, one that would obliterate her with a push of a button. “You think we’re HYDRA? They fell long ago.”

“Speaking of falling,” Clint said, as he lowered his bow, an arrow-stricken guard falling to his knees. With a big, roundhouse kick, the last guard fell to the ground and the archer lowered his weapon of choice. “You’re the only one left, Viper.”

“Right! So who do you work for?” Scott grunted in reply, as he saw Clint approaching. “You can tell us now, or you can tell us in a SHIELD holding cell that’s a lot less comfortable than the ground, here.”

“We are those who remain,” Viper said, scowling at the both of them. “We ... are the ones who cluster together ... in the HIVE.”
“The HIVE,” Clint said, as they watched the gear they’d saved from the auction house placed back into the shipping containers of the SHIELD jet. “You ever heard of them?”

“Nope,” Scott replied, watching the agents clasp the buckles on the containers. Their mission in Sokovia was over, but there was still plenty of work to be done. Trapped in a massive, glass prison, the Viper watched as she, too, was packaged onto another plane. “Although it sounds kind of ominous. And that she’d be so confident to tell us about it, too.”

“Well, you know how it is,” Clint nodded, folding his arms over his chest. His purple sunglasses caught the morning light, rising over the mountains they’d hidden within. SHIELD had arrived not long after the battle was over, using the natural environment of Sokovia to their advantage. “The supervillain always thinks they can get away with it.”

“Until we kick their asses, yeah,” Scott laughed, as the last of the containers were placed on board. The helmet that Scott had helped design and, the one that had saved the day, was clasped and packed away. “But … why do I get the sense that this isn’t over?”

“Because in our job? It never is. Wait, you’re letting that one go, too?” Clint asked, suddenly, looking at Scott. Clint reached out and was holding back the agent that was about to close the hatch for the ship, the last item having been packed on board: the helmet. “You pulled off some pretty cool moves with that one, kid.”

Scott looked at the silver helmet, with its red tinted eyes. It had been useful, Scott couldn’t deny. Without it, they most definitely would’ve been beaten by HIVE. To think, that something he helped design would’ve been in the hands of the bad guys. Now, Scott understood how Hank felt about U.L.T.R.O.N. It had been so close before her reign of terror continued, in the hands of this mysterious organisation. Tempted to reach out and grab for the helmet, Scott ultimately shook his head.

“Nah,” Scott said, letting the agent continue with his work. “You just want it so I can cover your ass next time, old man.”

“Don’t call me ‘old man’, kid!”

With a snort and a pat on Clint’s back, he replied, “And don’t call me ‘kid’ ... old man! And, hey, do you really have a dog? What’s its name? Please tell me it’s Hawkdog.”

“Hawkdog? That’s terrible. Sounds like something you’d sell for a buck on the side of the street,” Clint replied, shaking his head, as they both got onto the last ship for them to return home. “No, it’s Pizza Dog.”

Barely containing his laughter, Scott answered: “Ha ha, good one. Wait ... you’re serious?”
Outstanding Marvel Team Up - your favourite heroes (and villains) all in one fan fic!

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

21 Jun 2016, 21:51 #9

And now we have 4 stories, eliminating the big possibility of a 3-way tie.

Joined: 08 Dec 2011, 13:45

23 Jun 2016, 04:58 #10

Going to try to write up a one-shot in the next couple of days. Hopefully.
"Don't Act Too Paranoid Or They'll Know You're Onto Them."


Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

23 Jun 2016, 19:51 #11

darktruth @ Jun 23 2016, 12:58 AM wrote: Going to try to write up a one-shot in the next couple of days. Hopefully.
You've got a few days.

Joined: 08 Dec 2011, 13:45

27 Jun 2016, 08:21 #12

Heart of Ice

Gavin grunted in pain as the butt of a rifle collided with his ribs. He staggered back a step and took another hit to his jaw that put him on the cold metal floor.
"I didn't say you could move!" barked the man dressed in a black jacket and pants, his face hidden by a balaclava.
Four men dressed the same as this one had snatched him, grabbed him off the street as he walked to buy some milk. A punch in the face, a bag over the head, and then he found himself locked inside the metal room.

"What do you want from me?!" Gavin demanded as tears streamed down his face. "I don't have any money!"
"We don't want money," the man replied and kicked him sharply in the side.
Gavin hit the ground when he heard a woman clear her throat. He lifted his head just as the man turned and stepped aside to salute.

Gavin was certain the woman was younger than he was, only eighteen or nineteen. Her brown hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, and she wore a white button-up shirt and navy blue skirt.
The most striking thing about her was the coldness she gave off. She was attractive, he could not deny that, but it seemed diffused by the chill she put in the air around her. He could almost swear his blood froze under the gaze of her ice blue eyes. He was almost certain he had seen her somewhere before.
"Have you finished preparing him yet?" she asked with derision in her voice.
"Just making sure he knows whose in charge, ma'am," the man replied.

Her eyes snapped to him. "And that's you, is it?"
"I-I-I..." the man stammered. "No, of course not. I follow your mother, as do we all."
Her eyes shifted back to Gavin and he swallowed. "How certain are we this one will be a success?"
"It's not my place to know," he replied.

The young woman took a careful breath. then straightened out her shirt. "I doubt you would understand even if it was. Now, how about you find yourself something useful to do?"
The man nodded, gave a salute, then quickly moved past her and out the door.
The woman looked Gavin over with a cold, blank expression. Then she muttered something under her breath and slammed the heavy metal door closed.

Gavin crawled over into a far corner of the room and tucked his knees up to his chest.
He was scared more than he ever thought it was possible for a person to be. A fear that affected him physically, that he could feel in his very bones and every pump of his heart.
That fear turned to something even worse when the cloud of gas pumped into the room.

Gavin gasped sharply as he awoke to darkness.
His heart thundered in his chest as he gasped for air in a panic. His arms reached out and bumped into a soft, almost flesh-like barrier of some kind.
He fought back the overwhelming desire to retch as he forced his hands forward and the membrane broke.

He tore it open and sucked in a breath of fresh air as he threw himself forwards until he slammed upon the metal floor.
He shivered violently and finally allowed a small amount of bile to make it's way up his throat and out onto the floor.
"The transformation is complete. Do we have orders to terminate?"

Gavin suddenly looked up and flinched at the sight of an assault rifle barrel in his face. He swallowed deep as his body trembled violently.
"Negative. This one is required for testing. Deliver to Containment Station Delta.
Gavin only had time to let out a sigh of relief when the cattle-prod touched his neck and he dropped in a convulsion.

He felt two pairs of arms take hold of him and drag him from the room.
Metal walls and doors swept past as he was dragged along. His mind was too befuddled to make out any of the words upon the doors or the signs upon the walls, though he wasn't sure it would matter much if he could.
He was at the mercy of these men, and nothing he could read would change that fact.

He couldn't say how long he was dragged for, all he knew was eventually he was taken into a garage and thrown into the back of a truck.
One of the arm men climbed into the back of the truck with him, and chained Gavin up inside a cage located just behind the cab. Then the man moved back to make sure the doors to the truck were securely locked with several large metal bars, he was only halfway through the six locks when the truck roared to life and began to move on.

Gavin's senses began to return to him, or rather he began to be able to make sense of the again.
"Wh-where are you taking me?" he managed to grunt out.
"You're an unlucky bastard," replied the man as he took a seat near the cage. "They've got an interest in you. You'd have been better of with a bullet."
"Why do they want me?"
"Not my place to know."

Gavin had just slumped in his chains when the metal of the roof above him began to groan.
The man cocked his weapon as he looked up.
Gavin only had time to get out the first sound of 'what's going on?' when a section of roof suddenly shattered downwards and a small woman dressed in a light-blue-and-silver battle-dress with a masquearade mask with a design inspired by snow-flakes landed inside the truck. Her white hair draped acoss her shoulders.

The man moved to aim his weapon, but she moved swiftly and took the gun in her left hand. Gavin stepped back in his cage as a frost quickly engulfed the weapon.
Then her right hand reached inside the short-jacket she wore and retrieved a handle that quickly extended into a thin sword that she plunged into the man's heart.

She pulled her blade free of his flesh and tossed his frozen weapon aside as she turned upon Gavin, her steel eyes examined him curiously from behind the mask.
"Why did they want you?" she asked, and he couldn't miss the way she spoke. As though he was nothing more than a dinner choice she couldn't believe somebody would order.
"I don't know."
She sighed. "Of course you don't."

She placed her hand upon the lock of his cage and he watched as the metal snap-froze until it finally shattered.
"Why are you helping me?' he asked as he looked into her eyes.
"I'm not," she replied and cracked the handle of her weapon upon his skull. She watched him slump as he fell unconscious. "I need answers."

Ascent Industries
Research and Development

Calynn Yang, a round-face woman with her dark hair braided into a knot stared at the well-dressed man that stood before her.
"What do you mean there was a security breach?"
The man swallowed. "Two of my men were transporting the latest... investment when it was attacked, and the cargo was stolen. The truck was frozen, both men fatally wounded."

Calynn sucked in a deep breath through her nose as she stood up and softly stepped around the desk until she stood before the man.
Her fist struck his throat so fast he couldn't even see it. As he gasped for air she slammed several quick punches into both sides of his face.
He hit the ground and Calynn stared down at him. "Ashley, dear?" she called out.

The door to the office slowly opened and a bushy-haired woman poked her head inside. "Yes, Miss Yang?"
"Find me a replacement Head of Security and inform them their first job is to dispose of this piece of trash at my feet." She took a breath. "Oh, and get my son on the line. I may require him home sooner than I'd hoped."
"Right away, Miss Yang," Ashley replied. "Should I inform Mr Baldwin?"
"Keep the details light,"
Ashley gave a curt nod and closed the door.
"If your people fall under the weight of a snowflake, perhaps I need to call in some real help," she said down at the man at her feet as he bled onto the carpet. Her face scrunched up at the sight. "I'll have your successor take the cost of that out of your extremities."


Rosamund held some of her hair in her hand as she watched it shift from white to brown. She had still to decide which colour she preferred, though she wasn't sure she ever would.
Her eyes moved to the pale, chubby man that lay in the corner of the musty, stone room that was lit only by a few candles.
She chewed the side of her lip as she watched him cautiously as he began to stir, then raised a hand to her face and pull mask free from her face and slipped it into her pocket.

Gavin's eyes began to open, then snapped wide open suddenly as he slid back against the wall with a face of panic.
"You're that bitch!" he spat. "The one that was there!"
"I would suggest you greatly examine your language skills before you open your mouth again," she advised him. "All of them. If I hear that word again you'll learn what it's like to have your heart snap-frozen.And the name is Rosamund."

She narrowed her brows sharply. "It's Rosamund, and you're the idiot fool that would be in intense pain right now if not for me, so please learn my name. It's good manners."
"Sorry, my hearing doesn't work properly after I've been tortured," he muttered. "But why were you there? And why did you break me out of the truck? And why was your hair white?"
"I was there to oversee operations on behalf of my former employer. I broke you out because I would like to know why they decided you of all people were worth keeping alive. My hair changes colour as part of my Inhuman gift, as is my ability to snap-freeze things around me. If you were wondering."

His eyes opened even wider, a feat she thought not possible. "You're Inhuman?! Get away! You'll make me sick!"
She exhaled sharply. "No, I won't. One, because that's not how it works. Two, because you're Inhuman as well. Or did you miss the part where you transformed?"
"The-the pod thing?"
"Surprisingly, yes. The strange pod you found yourself in was not some bizarre new prototype bed, but rather a major stage in your tranformation as your Inhuman genes were activated by exposure to Terrigin Mists. Or did you miss that part as well?"

"I just..." he stared at his hands. "A lot has happened."
"Yes, and I expect you'll be an absolute man-child about the entire ordeal. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you could hold of any personal breakdowns until after I learn what I need to know."
"What's that?"
"What's your gift?"

"I-I don't know."
"Then I suggest you start trying to figure it out. You have until tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?"
"That's personal."

Gavin thought for a moment. "Wait, if you were there for your job, why break me out?"
"My employer and I..." Rosamund dropped her gaze to her feet. "Are no longer in agreement on certain matters, though I doubt she has allowed herself the moment to notice. Of course she notices when I interrupt her operations, which is something."

"So what's to stop me from going out there and selling you out to them for my freedom?"
She gestured to the room they stand in.
"You currently stand in one part of the abandoned military tunnels that run underneath the city. They're a maze occupied by only the most desperate and lost. Even if you did manage to find your way out, my employer's men would shoot you on sight. Or you'd better hope they do, before I get my hands on you."
To emphasize her point she placed her hand upon the wall beside her and caused a frost to spread across the surface.

"Got it," he replied. "In here life, out there death."
"Good," she said with a single nod. "Now, make yourself comfortable and try to figure out your gift. I shall return by midday tomorrow, hopefully with good news."
With that she returned her mask to her face and moved from the room with delicate steps as her hair turned white.
Gavin swallowed as he glanced about the room. "I hope my power isw good for getting me out of this crazy mess."

The Following Morning
Stockton Breakwall

Calynn took in a deep breath of salt air through her nose as she stared out at the ocean. Her eyes narrowed as a single snow-flake drifted down before her.
"You always were a creature of habit."
Calynn spun and her eyes locked upon Rosamund, the young woman dressed in her battle-skirt and mask as her white hair blew gently in the breeze.

"You're the horrible little pest that's been messing with my work," Calynn snarled. "And what do you want? To mock me? Kill me?"
Rosamund shook her head gently. "No, I'm just here to let you know that your twisted morality isn't genetic." She reached up a hand and plocked her mask from her face.
Calynn's eyes widened. "Rosie?"
Rosamund licked her lip. "Hello mother."

"But... why?"
Rosamund's fists clenched. "You really have to ask?! The things you do, the things you asked me to do!" A layer of ice formed around her fists like armour. "And you have to ask why I don't wish to be apart of your perverted plans?! Of course you do, you're too insane to see what you're doing is wrong."
"You're Inhuman," Calynn muttered with curious interest. "When? How? Did it hurt? What's the extent of your abilities?"

Rosamund shook her head gently. "I hope you'll understand why I don't want to answer any of your questions. I just wanted to tell you that I quit."
"It's not that simple," Calynn replied. "You're on of them. You could be what we've been looking for."
Rosamund took a quick step back and bumped into something solid. She spun and her eyes snapped wide. "Richard!"
The tall man with slicked back brown hair and a finely trimmed beard smiled at her. His muscled chest was visible by the v-neck of his blue top, that matched his flared pants. "Hello little sister."
Her eyes dropped to the glint of metal in his hand. A long, tapered blade. Her eyes jumped back up to his.
"I think you should do as mother wants. You always had a pretty face, I'd hate to mess it up."

Her mind raced to come up with a reply. Preferably some sharp words that drove home the fact that she would no longer play a part in her mother's games.
Instead she chose to go with somethig sharper than words.

She swept her hands before her and a swirl of snow engulfed her brother. As he slashed at the white she took a nimble step back as two longs blades of ice formed in her hands.
The snow faded and her brother's furious eyes fell upon her. "You think you're good enough to take me on?!"
"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "I'm better."

Richard let loose a roar as he lunged forward, his blade sliced the air.
She brought up her left blade and blocked his strike. The metal hit hard and dug deep into the ice, but was quickly stopped.
Rosamund brought the other ice blade around and struck her brother harshly across the head. She tossed her left blade aside and pulled his blade from his hand as she did.
"You always fought with violence and rage," she told him. "No grace. That's also why no woman has ever wanted you, though I suppose that's a discussion for another time."

A swirl of snow began to surround her as she turned back to her mother. "Believe me when I say that I really wanted to love you. You're just a monster."
The swirl of snow intensified until it surrounded them all, then it was gone in an instant and Rosamund along with it.
"I always hated that little bitch," Richard snarled as he retrieved his blade.

"You need to find her," said Callyn. "Quickly."
"I'll do it," he replied. "Does it matter if I hurt her a little first."
"I'd prefer her alive, but I could always find use for a corpse."

Gavin's head began to pound as he focused upon an empty beer can with all the strength he could muster. Finally the strain was too much and took several deep breaths.
"So I guess that rules out telekinesis," he grumbled.
"So, do you know what your abilities are yet?" Rosamund asked as she swept into the room.
"Um, not quite."
"Of course you haven't."

Gavin looked her over. "So I take it things didn't go great."
"It took you all five of your brain-cells to figure that out didn't it?"
"There's no need to be mean."
"Of course not. I'm sorry, I don't mean to tax your limited brain capacity with my harsh words. Now, how do you feel about going to war with my family."
"I... What?"
"Don't Act Too Paranoid Or They'll Know You're Onto Them."


Joined: 08 Dec 2011, 13:45

28 Jun 2016, 00:26 #13

Looking at it now not overly happy with my entry, but at least I have an entry.
"Don't Act Too Paranoid Or They'll Know You're Onto Them."


Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

28 Jun 2016, 20:11 #14

This ends the submission part of the contest. Here are this month's entries:

Peter Pan and the Pirates - Smee's Guess – Eternal Nightmare
Marvel Star Wars: Eye of the Hurricane - Chapter Ten – Big Thunder
Sometimes all goes wrong… very wrong... - Ewkada
Outstanding Marvel Team Up #1 – xMatt
Heart of Ice – darktruth

Voting now begins for all writers and readers. Please be sure to vote for your 2 favorites before July 1.

Good luck to all!

Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

01 Jul 2016, 09:37 #15

And here is the tally for this month's voting:

Peter Pan and the Pirates - Smee's Guess – Eternal Nightmare - 2 VOTES
Marvel Star Wars: Eye of the Hurricane - Chapter Ten – Big Thunder - 3 VOTES
Sometimes all goes wrong… very wrong... - Ewkada
Outstanding Marvel Team Up #1 – xMatt - 4 VOTES
Heart of Ice – darktruth - 3 VOTES

(All 5 writers voting plus 1 outside reader)


This is xMatt's 6th win.

Doc Omega
Living Tribunal
Doc Omega
Living Tribunal
Joined: 14 Jul 2008, 09:24

01 Jul 2016, 11:14 #16

Congrats xMatt!


Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

01 Jul 2016, 19:23 #17

Congratulations xMatt !
and I liked others stories too !