Is it character creation ? Isn't it character creation ? As Dwayne Johnson once said "It doesn't Matter"
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Unlike a local election , we do value your votes and would love to hear feedback on the stories created by the ever so talented bunch below.
Voting ends 18/07/2013.
A thank you and good luck.........
Haunt in a Hospital
With a slam the Hooded Haunt closed the door, shutting out the landlord from whom she rented the pocket dimension. Unlike most demons her lease holder was flexible and would take souls or gold as payment. That in itself was difficult, gold was expensive but easy to transform with alchemy spells. Unfortunately her vault was empty with not a single gold brick left.
Clicking her fingers she summoned her Book of Secrets that had been nestled alongside a copy of Fifty shades of Grey and the latest Dazzler Autobiography. Opening the tome the Haunt found the page detailing what she required, "The wisdom of the dead, boa-constrictor skin and the ashes of a body slain by lightning. If only I had some currency to acquire such things."
In response the page shifted into three massive words taking up the page 'Get a Job'. With a sigh the Haunt headed out the door and in the search for employment.
The A and E of Empire State Hospital erupted into screams as the Haunt entered the room. Many patients simply keeled over from heart attacks. Concentrating she locked onto the mind of the matron in charge and continued her journey.
To say Matron Carter was surprised when the hooded monstrosity floated through her door was an understatement, as a religious woman she mumbled a prayer under her breath and closed her eyes. After an age she blinked and saw a red headed woman standing before her, albeit one holding a scythe and clad in bone armour.
"Excuse me but can you stop with the terror." The Haunt asked adapting her glamour. Carter opened her eyes and saw the apparition was now dressed in a nurses scrubs.
"Who are you?" Carter stammered. "What do you want?
"I'm Clarissa." The Haunt replied, it had been decades since she had used her name. "And I came to get some money."
"Okay do you have any experience?" Carter asked.
"Yes I was a nurse." 'Clarissa' answered, "I even tended to troops on Juno Beach."
"Do whatever you want." Carter ordered certain that she was hallucinating. Her suspicions were confirmed as 'Clarissa' left the room by floating through the closed door.
After half an hour Clarissa reached the morgue and felt the anguish of the ME and her assistant. Walking inside she saw the body of a man sprawled out on the table as the coroners examined the pattern of bites on his arms.
"I have no idea what we are dealing with." The ME stated.
"Why don't you ask him?" Clarissa suggested causing both of the doctors to turn around in surprise.
"Because if it were that easy I would already have done that." The ME spat before being cursed with an enlargement hex that caused her tongue to grow an extra foot. Turning to the corpse Clarissa mouthed a necromantic oath and a binding spell to prevent the teenager's spirit from escaping.
Spirit what's your name."
"My name is Peter Parker." The spirit moaned as the assistant doctor fainted.
"Peter tell me how you died?"
"Well I was on a field trip to Oz Corp when I got bitten by a spider. I didn't realise I was allergic to the venom."
"Ah I see." Clarissa stated, "I hope you're taking notes." She added as the ME choked on her own tongue.
"Hey trapped between life and death here." Parker yelled.
"Fine, let this evil spirit receive the damnation he has deserved, wicked ghost be gone." Clarissa ordered as Peter caught on fire and disintegrated. "Jeez what a whiner." She added as she floated out of the morgue.
Clarissa was annoyed as she slipped into the maternity ward heading for the only room without an attending nurse. The mother to be was screaming in pain and was to busy to notice.
"Please can you help my wife." Her husband pleaded, "We've been here five hours and the baby still hasn't come."
"I'll try." Clarissa mumbled. With a quick hex cast the woman stopped screaming as a head appeared followed by the rest of the baby flopping into Clarissa's arms. With a smile she handed the infant to it's father only to see him gasp in horror.
"What have you done to my baby?" He screamed as he revealed the monkey lying in his arms. "We can't look after him like this."
"Animal births are easier then human births." Clarissa confessed, "Don't worry about his care though." She added as she modified the spell, the monkey morphing into a boa-constrictor causing his father to drop him.
"You freak." The father yelled as his wife screamed again. "I'm going to sue you for malpractice."
"I'm a nurse not a vet." Clarissa answered. "Oh and my last spell has transferred to your wife meaning the rest of the clutch will be coming."
"What happened to him?" The doctor asked as the man was pushed towards intensive care.
"His name is Maxwell Dillon and he got electrified when rescuing another lineman." The EMT replied, "Hey give us a hand here." He yelled at Clarissa. "We need to get this man stabilised."
"We're losing him." Another EMT yelled.
Clarissa whispered a healing spell as the EMTs charged the paddles. In an instant Max's body sparked and his clothes changed from bulky protective gear to a sleek green and yellow bodysuit.
"Clarissa a word please." Carter hissed as Max vaporised the EMTs behind her. Stepping inside the office Clarissa felt the tension rise "Unfortunately we have to insist you leave the hospital."
"Disfigured staff, an infestation of snakes and cursing the janitor into a doppelganger of Tina Fey which has become contagious."
"I'm sure that someone else is responsible."
"I'm sorry but the hospital board can't handle this many complaints."
"Meta, Dermis, Auricus." The Haunt spat heading out the door, "Now how will I pay the rent." She got no answer from Carter as the woman was entombed forever under a layer of gold.
"Police!" announced Officer Dragon, as he smashed through the plate glass storefront. "Get your hands in the air! Don't make me have to kick your ass!"
The bald man in the black suit and handlebar mustache gave the fin-headed officer a bland look. "Was that really necessary? There's a door ten feet that way," he said, pointing to his right. He then dropped a balding, unconscious man to the floor.
"I told you to get your hands up! You can't just go around beating citizens into unconsciousness!"
The suit looked at the man piled at his feet, and said, "Him? He was threatening you. He was ranting something about, 'I made him! I can kill him!' He called himself 'Highbrow.' Fingerprint scanner makes him as one 'E. Larsen.' Know him?"
Dragon countered, "Nevermind. Last time - get your hands up."
The mustache sighed. "Fine." He raised his hands slowly, then took in a sharp breath. When he breathed out, he blew fire. Dragon turned and jumped out the broken window, but was still engulfed by the flames, the blast throwing him into the building across the street.
A long minute passed, the two storefronts facing each other across the two lane street. Both burned quietly, as fire alarms blared from within. Finally, there was a shift of fallen brick and the tinkle of shattered glass, and Dragon crawled from the burning debris.
"I am getting really tired of surviving fires, without my clothes." He stood up slowly, looked around to see whether he was exposing himself to the public (again), and walked over to his police cruiser. Realizing he didn't have his keys, he muttered, "Crap," and shoved his finger through the trunk lock. He jerked slightly, and the trunk lid buckled and wrenched loose. Dropping it to one side, he first pulled out a pair of pants, and put them on quickly. Then he reached in for a shotgun. He looked back across the street, and the fire breather was casually walking out the door of the store, using his hands to pat flames out on his suit. Unlike the suit, the man was unharmed.
Crossing the street in three quick lunges, Dragon shouted, "Did you just leave that man to die?" and belted him with the butt of his rifle.
The man didn’t stagger, but returned with a backhand that sent Dragon back against his cruiser. Before Dragon could get up, the man was over him, yanking the rifle away and tossing it aside. "Don't be ridiculous. I sent the storeowner out the back way with him. You should take him in."
"How 'bout I take you in, instead?" Dragon swung at the man, but the man dodged to one side, caught Dragon's wrist with one hand, and delivered a blow with the other that made his arm snap at the elbow. The officer rolled to his good arm, and swept a leg back to trip the man, only to have him jump over it, and come down on his knee, snapping that as well. The man quickly stomped Dragon's groin, just to slow him down further.
He then dropped down on one knee, the other pressing at Dragon's throat. "Now, while those are healing, what do you say we talk for a minute?" He reached in his jacket, and came out with a badge and identification. "Heironymous. Secret Service." He felt the tension leave Dragon's body, and lifted his knee.
"What do you want?" asked Dragon.
"You, sir, were elected Commander-in-Chief, for about a minute-and-a-half. That gets you a Secret Service protection detail for life, and guess what? That’s me." The bald man stood and offered a hand to Dragon.
Just as he was fully upright, Dragon swung and knocked Heironymous three car lengths down the street. "I owed you that for the kick to the groin," he growled. Swaggering towards the agent, he called, "Now do you want to explain to me why my 'protection detail' assaulted a man, caused a few hundred thousand dollars worth of fire damage, and attacked me?" By the time he finished his question, he was standing directly over the agent.
Heironymous, propped on both elbows, looked up at his green charge, and answered, "He was threatening a former President of the United States, and it is my duty to stop any and all threats against your person. The damage is a hazard of breathing fire. And I attacked you to gauge your durability, so I can better know what threats against your person are credible."
Dragon stomped on Heironymous' chest, smacking him against the pavement. "That's the STUPIDEST thing I've ever HEARD!"
From the ground, Heironymous shrugged. "It happens in fan-fiction all the time."
"I'm hauling your ass in, agent or not," growled Dragon.
Heironymous glowered. "Sir, with all due respect to your former office, get off of me!" The agent delivered an uppercut that sent Dragon sailing backwards. He got to his feet, and suveyed his suit, finding it scorched and tattered beyond repair.
He scowled as he started down the street, towards the fallen former president. "Now you listen to me! I am a damned sight older than this entire country. I've been with the Secret Service since the day it started. I have been involved with the protection of all twenty-nine presidents since that day, which includes your sorry ass, and you are by far the biggest disgrace among them! You have endangered and taken lives as many times as you've saved them, were a damned puppet when you ran for office, and you are the sorriest, most dumbass excuse for a 'dragon' I've ever seen. I'm a dragon! You're just a lizard-man with a badge."
Dragon got up, seething, but simply said, "Go back to wherever you came from. I'm refusing Secret Service protection."
Heironymous looked amused. "Why's that?"
Through gritted teeth, Dragon said, "Because. I. Say. So." Then he stalked away.
Heironymous glanced around at the damage, and walked in the other direction. "Damned skink."
Arm-fall-off-boy in his own adventure.
It was 15:09. Arm-fall-off-boy wakes up. He had partied till 04:00 clock, and was feeling like hell. His head was pounding, he felt queasy...in short, he had a hangover.
"..." Were the first sounds he uttered from his mouth. He went to WC, and uttered the second sounds.
He washed the taste of the puke off. Then he went to the kitchen. He noticed that his right arm had fell off. AGAIN. He took his phone, dialed a pizza places number, and said:
"I wanna order...your greasiest pizza, please. Yes? Yeah, I`ll take one o` those..."
Sure, he coulda took some pizza pills, but those are fat free.
He took the silent blender, and poured in to its jug, a raw egg, tomato juice, booze, a dead baby rancor and some fake cinnamon (real cinnamon is extinct in this time period), to make it taste better. He started it, and let it do it`s thing for a minute.
Then he jugged a glassfull.
He took another glassful, and sipped it, silently and miserably. Then he called to Bouncing boy, he remembered to have partied with him. He had bounced on his back, Man, they were hammered when they did that. Then they were badly injured.
"Do you know where my arm is? No, I did not have a chick over, so a chick couldn`t have had took it. Oh. Too bad. Well, I`ll find it, don`t worry. Bye."
Then he called to Brainiac 5, Calamity king and Chameleon boy (Who had all partied with him and 20 other Leaguers last night. AFO-boy had bumped in to the party by accident. He thought: Why not get wasted. I`ll forget my low self-esteem that I have because I`ve failed in fulfilling my only dream, being a superhero, for a moment, that way.). They didn`t know either. Then he called to Blok. He answered thusly:
"I think the police have it."
"What?" Asked our protagonist.
"In lost and found." Said Blok.
"Okay...well, thanks anyway, you helped alot."
They stopped talking. Doorbell rang:
AFO-boy went to the door with his wallet. Opened the door. He saw an unhealthy looking teen, who had a holographic Playboy-magazine in his hand, and a murderous look on his eyes. His nametag said: Hi, I`m @pyrogram.
"That will be 70,89, you sonuva-"
"What?" Asked AFO-boy.
"I thought you said..." Said AFO-boy.
"What do you think I said?"
"I did not fool!" Said Pyrogram
"Eh...Here`s the money..."
"Here`s your lard pizza." Said Pyrogram. He handed it to our hero, while thinking: I`ll murder you in your sleep.
"Thanks." Said AFO-boy quickly, and shut the door as quickly as possible, but not rudely, so the crazy delivery boy wouldn`t kill him.
He started to eat the pizza, and read his mail. He had got one of those letters that tell him how he sucks, again. He threw it in to the atomizer trash can. Then he started to watch his "for hangovers only"-movie. The Hangover 9.
Then he called to a friend at the police force, and asked her to bring his arm to him.
He ate the surprisingly good pizza, took a few gulps of the horrible tasting liquid he had made, and watched the crappie movie that he finds endlessly amusing, due to its ultra-campiness.
After a few hours, when he was watching Hangover 10, the doorbell rang again. It was his friend, Sfurks, the female robot. She brought him his arm. AFO-boy thanked her.
He washed the green gunk (which better not be someones blood, he thought) that it was covered in, off. Then he returned to the movie, and sighed loudly.
“How much longer?”
The young man at the counter looked puzzled at the question. He scratched his eyebrow ring and bit his lip as he pondered it before answering “Ummm sir, you JUST dropped them off!”
The man with white hair rapped his fingers on the counter like a drummer as he let out an exasperated gasp.
“It’ll be ready like the sign says,” he pointed to the sign next to him sarcastically “One hour”
“Fine!” The man trudged off.
“What a jerk!” he muttered as he walked over to the film to be processed. Grabbing the envelopes he shuffled them into alphabetical order then placed them in the processing trays.
The man shuddered at the familiar voice as he turned “Yes!”
“How much longer?”
The young man gritted his teeth, gripped his hands into fists and bit his tongue. Slowly he exhaled as strode to the counter to meet the man. “ONE. HOUR!” he growled as he shifted the sign to be a barrier between them “We’re a ONE HOUR photo lab! It takes AN HOUR!”
“How long has it been?”
“About thirty seconds” the young man seethed “If you stop bugging me, I can get it started and in fifty nine minutes from when I’ve started, you’ll have your photos…sir”
The man looked down his nose at him “I’ve been around this mall three times”
“Well maybe another lap” the young man retorted as he turned and headed back to work “Or seven”
“What was that?”
The young man exhaled, slumped and turned, marching back to the counter “I said, sir, that maybe another lap of the mall would do you good. Now can I, please, get back to processing your photos?”
The man huffed, folded his arms and walked off.
“Idiot!” He grabbed the first tray and place it into the machine. He clicked the mouse on the computer and opened the screens he needed.
“Oh you are…” he stood, knocking his stool backwards “WHAT?”
The man looked a little offended “I said excuse me”
“Can I help you, sir!”
“Are they ready?”
“OH MY GOD!”
“What’s your name?”
The young man rolled his eyes and grabbed a name badge from the tray and clipped it on “I am…” he looked down at it “Bianca!”
“Well Bianca, I am waiting for my photos. Your rudeness and lack…”
‘Bianca’ folded his arms and made a face “MY rudeness? Dude, jeez seriously! You keep interrupting asking are they ready? Of course they’re not ready! It hasn’t been an hour! WE’RE A ONE HOUR PHOTO LAB! IT TAKES AN HOUR!”
“Raise your voice to me again, boy” the man snarled
“Chill dude! More you bug me, the longer it takes, it’s that simple!”
The man glared daggers at ‘Bianca’ before walking back to the seats. ‘Bianca’ watched him sit before heading back to work. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was still seated before he started back at it.
He loaded the machine, clicked the step-by-step idiot proof buttons to get the process started. He turned the dials and pressed the button, the machine hummed and the process begun.
“How much longer?”
“AN HOUR!” he barked as he placed his headphones in his ears, glancing up to the man at the counter “YOU ST…”
There was a rush of wind, followed by a wave of vertigo as Bianca was being held by the collar by the white haired man, eyeball to eyeball.
“I warned you!” growled the man.
“I’m going to call security” whimpered Bianca as he struggled when he realised he was outside “What the hell is going on?”
“I have taken you somewhere we can chat in person” replied the man “Somewhere not too far, about ten miles past Stamford”
“But, but, we were in New York?” stammered ‘Bianca’.
“Oh god don’t kill me!”
The man looked at the blubbering young man with a girl’s name “I’m not going to kill you. I just wish to have my questions answered”
“W-w-w-what do you want to know?”
“When will my photos be ready?”
Bianca paused, sucked up the tears and the snot as he looked at the man “Are you serious? An hour dude!”
The man groaned “How long has it been?”
“Like three minutes, max!”
The man released his grip “I am sorry”
‘Bianca’ looked at him “Are you, like, one of them?”
“Do you mean a mutant?”
“You have no idea who I am do you?”
The man groaned “I serve with the Avengers and the X-Men and I’m nobody!”
“You don’t look like Beast” shrugged ‘Bianca’ “Did you shave off your fur?”
“The clothing brand?”
He threw his head back in frustration “No!”
“So why are you acting so retarded at me?”
“You PEOPLE are cattle, cattle stuck in mud! I am surrounded by things that move slower than paint drying or grass growing”
“So how could you kidnapped me from work?”
Quicksilver grabbed ‘Bianca’ by the collar and seconds later they were back at the photo lab “I am sorry. I move so fast I have no concept of time”
“Seriously dude, you need to chill! Your photos will be ready, in an hour.” Bianca pulled off his name badge and pulled off his shirt and left the counter.
“Where are you going?”
“I quit! I aint paid enough to deal enough to deal with impatient speed freaks!"
I loved all your shorts and hope my retort can hold its own against your powerhouses..... speaking of power houses
Dennis Dunphy is sat backstage at Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation latest event at ‘the Garden’ amongst some of the brightest coloured leotards and flexed muscles in the business.
Instead of focusing on his championship match tonight, Dennis’s mind is wandering the past months events. Specifically the break out at ‘the Vault’. He let escaped villainess Tatania slide. He hid in the shadows because basically he was scared and intimidated. This action has been haunting him since.
He’s run with the best there is. Captain America. If only Cap really knew what he was like. At least in wrestling I can escape and be someone else, he thought to himself.
Dennis’s hulking torso is breathing heavy in his rip off Dare Devil costume. It is almost time for him to become a new person. A person not afraid and ready for anything. One who oozes confidence. It’s time for the D-Man.
Through the curtain and out into the packed arena, thousands of fans are waiting in anticipation for D-Man to make his grand entrance. The arena is littered with UCWF merchandise, handmade signs and beer drinking wrestling fans.
It is time. Good bye Dennis.
The ring master enters the squared circle wearing his cheap tuxedo. “Laaaadies and gentleman, this match is scheduled for one fall. And is for the UCWF intercontinental championship of the woooorld”.
The crowd lets out a roar in anticipation.
“Introducing first the challenger, originating from Lincoln Nebraska, the Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Maaaan”
An electric blue flash shoots across the stage and D-Man makes his grand entrance to the sounds of thick electric rock. His confident swagger to the ring resembles the hall of famer Ric Flair strut.
Outstretched arms of fans greet D-Man’s strut down the aisle, all hoping to grab a high five as he makes his way to the ring.
The D- Man stops in front of a young fan whose arm is out stretched awaiting a high five. The boy’s face is delighted that his welcoming gesture is about to be accepted. The D-Man thrusts his hand forward and then at the last spilt second pulls back in a mocking fashion much to the boys utter despair.
“Deeeeenied “mocks D-Man as he walks away chuckling to his small achievement.
Older fans in the arena laugh at his actions, where other fans wearing fruity pebble coloured shirts boo at his childish taunt.
As the D-Man steps into the squared circle he spins 360 on his back heel with out-stretched arms soaking in the taunts and jeers. Snatching the mic from the ring announcer, he addresses the crowd.
“Deadly Dee’s destiny departs to dudes who drool. It’s a high dime for Deeeeeeee Time”.
The crowd laps up D-Man’s signature taunt, which is quickly interrupted by the arrival of moody blues trumpets and stage fireworks as his opponent enters the Garden.
Swooping over the music comes the ring announcer’s voice.
“The Intercontinental UCWF Champion, Boooooone Sawwwwwww”.
Bone Saw was the UCWF Intercontinental champion and a firm baby face. As he confidently makes his way to the ring through the lingering decay of smoke left by his entrance fireworks, he makes certain to greet the high fives D-Man had ignored.
Entering the ring Bone Saw climbs to the top of the turn buckle and raises his championship belt high to the delight and camera flashes of fans.
With his back turned to his opponent soaking in the enjoyment of his fans, D-Man takes the opportunity to capitalise on the champ’s current position.
He administers a low blow of galactic proportions. Bone Saw reels in agony onto the canvas from the top turn buckle as D-Man spins again 360 on his heel soaking in the crowd’s outrage to his action.
Bone Saw steps up gingerly holding his mid-section and the D-Man strikes again with his signature move, the D D Man T.
Out cold on the canvas D-man waves to the referee to ring the bell as he covers his opponent.
Reluctantly the referee rings the bell and begins a slow three count. 1….2….3 Ding Ding.
The ring announcer dusts off his cheap suit and announces “And new Intercontinental champion Deeeeeeeeeee Maaaaaannnn”
Despite the euphoric displeasure from the crowd, D-Man drops to his knees kissing the belt with tears in his eyes and slinks out of the ring like the devious devil he is. D-Man turns his back to the crowd at the top of the ramp and raises his belt, signalling his victory as he exits back through the curtain.
Dennis collapses back into the chair where he sat before the match and lays down the belt he just obtained. That cunning confident character of D-Man seems to have escaped his face and now he is just Dennis. Dennis is reflecting internally once again on how his cowardly victory is metaphoric to his actions back at ‘the Vault’.
A few moments later Bone Saw returns through the curtain, walking with purpose toward Dennis.
“Just to let you know, I am not happy about being put over by a yellow schmuck like you. I’ll be speaking to Mr Curtis Jackson on this and it’ll be rectified. T-shirt sales always win pal enjoy your push.”
As Bone Saw storms off he narrowly misses clashing with one of the back stage attendants approaching Dennis.
“Mr Dunphy, we have a guest who would like to meet you. His mother has just recently passed and he was looking forward to seeing you tonight”.
“Sure thing” replies Dennis felling a bit better about himself. He does like meeting fans and this may cheer his sombre mood. So Dennis makes his way over with the attendant to the young boy and his father.
As Dennis approaches the boy he is filled with a cold rush of dread. This is the boy he mocked in the crowd.
Just as Dennis is about to utter an apology, the boy’s father socks him like a leaping frog and leaves Dennis toes up on the floor.