Hello and welcome to Writers Guild Presents! I'm your host, The Poet!
A while back @impurestcheese sent me a pm with a story and told me to use it wisely (or at least use it on a slow week). This is just such a week so hopefully I am using it wisely.
Marvel Mayhem - Crimson #1
The stained glass windows of the ‘Sky Top Wedding Chapel’ smashed open as a blur of gold and red threw the stain of scarlet out the window before stopping, the familiar form of Iron Man perched on the top of Las Vegas’ tallest casino as his foe fell to the ground.
“I know what you're thinking.” The scarlet armoured form of the Crimson Dynamo thought as he fell to the earth, his armour leaving a crater in the steps outside the tower. “That Iron Man has saved the world from the soviet menace once again. Well you'd be half right, I’m certain that is the Iron Man armour, although the pilot lacks the typical arrogance Stark has. That should give you pause for thought, who is this man and what history do we have?” He mused as Iron Man landed his repulsors charged up and ready to fire.
“Alright Ivan, tonight I rid the world of the legacy of terror you've brought to our shores.” Iron Man hissed coldly. “Tonight is the day you die!”
“Again, I'm certain this isn't Stark. I knew I had this coming the day I left Mother Russia, so death isn't a surprise. I just hope this ends with me, my life in America has been hard but worthwhile; I have a job, friends who treat me with respect, a house, and even a car, not that I use it. I know you're surprised, you always seem surprised. It didn't start like that but to get to the good memories you must go through the bad ones. So I begin my last rendition of my life, not in Russia -- as fitting as that would be --but in the same spot I'm about to be murdered in: right here on these steps.”
Five Months Earlier
Dimitri Bukharin finished polishing the last remaining spot of grime off the hood of the lime green Lotus Elise before standing back to admire his work. He was finished for the day and had managed to restore several filthy sports cars back to their former glory.“Ironic, if my superiors could see me now they wouldn't recognise me but then that’s the point of my disguise.” He thought as he flicked strands of long black hair from his face. “If people knew that a former terrorist was washing their cars there would be panic. It’s a good thing I changed my name as well or I wouldn't even have been able to get this job.”
“Yuri!” A voice barked and Dimitri turned to see Matt his pot bellied supervisor roll over to where he was standing. “Good work as usual! I’m glad I changed my mind on hiring you.” He added before stuffing a wad of bills into Dimitri’s overalls. “You're a hard worker and efficient not to mention you have a gift with cars.”
“Thank you.” Dimitri answered, “It comes from years of cleaning the Crimson Dynamo armour just to qualify for selection process to pilot the suit.” He thought as a Latino woman in similar overalls trotted over from the Porsche 911 she was cleaning.
“Ah Angela, here you go, the interiors were slightly rushed but it was good enough.” Matt stated handing her a smaller amount of money. “Mr Brant wants to see you before you leave.” He added, as he held out a box before waving it in the car cleaning team’s face. A collective groan left their mouths as they dropped all the keys inside. “Now get lost!” He ordered before rolling back to the valet office.
“That guy is a serious tool.” Angela sighed in her Chilean accent. Dimitri laughed, “Yes he is certainly some kind of wrench.” He answered, causing a smile to creep across Angela’s face. “I see no problems with the interiors you cleaned.” He added, before removing a third of his pay from the bundle he had been given and passed it to her. “For you my comrade.”
“Oh Yuri you know I can’t accept it.” Angela sighed, before giving Dimitri a hug, “But thank you for the offer, I’ll just…work an extra shift or something on the weekends. I’ll be fine.”
“I understand.” Dimitri answered. “Maybe I should make conversation with Matt, talk about expenses and the like.”
“No you'll only get yourself fired.” Angela gasped. “I have not made a lot of friends since I moved here after my parents died; I don't want to lose you as well.” She added as they meandered through the maze of parked cars to the maintenance entrance. “Please don't say anything.”
“I promise.” Dimitri told her before crossing his heart. Together they walked into the employee area only to see a man dressed in hunting leathers armed with an AR14 rifle, keeping a bead on several employees and their boss, Mr Brandt. His face supported several bruises.
“Sit down and shut up!” The man ordered, gesturing for Dimitri and Angela to join their colleges. “More immigrants Mr Brandt? Where do these ones come from? While you hire this collection of carpet baggers, terrorists, and thieves American citizens have to stay unemployed, you settled for cheap labour while your own people starve! How can you live with yourself?”
“I assure you I employ several American workers.” Mr Brandt stated. “All positions are offered to multiple races and I make sure not to discriminate someone of their age, sex, religion, or where they come from.”
“Liar!!” The hostage taker bellowed as he popped a red pill and took a swig from the bottle of water attached to his belt. “I know you prefer cheap immigrants to paying hard working American workers! These people are stealing our livelihoods and you have the gall to say you don’t discriminate?!”
Dimitri looked at Brandt before turning his attention to the hostage taker. In close combat the AR14 was a deadly weapon, one that could cause a lot of damage,but the man seemed not to realize that in this space it would only take a few seconds for an attacker to cross the distance and reach him. In addition, he didn't seem to actively notice anybody other than Brandt, still there was a danger and as a trained soldier Dimitri recognised it at when the man popped another red pill.
“Listen, you are not well.” Brandt stated. “You need a doctor, we have an in house medical centre if you want to lie down.”
“Shut up! These pills make it all make sense!!!” The hostage taker screamed. “The Imperial Forces own this country and there is no place for effing immigrants on American shore!!” He bellowed, before momentarily taking his finger off the trigger. In that time Dimitri charged, tackling the man to the ground and knocking his weapon away. The other employees scattered once the gun was out of play. With a grunt the man threw Dimitri off him, the thickset Russian smacking into the wall with a crack. “You think you can stop me?!!” He yelled, as Dimitri got to his feet. “While I have these I'm like a freight train and nobody can stop me!!” He bellowed, as he slammed a fist into his target’s face, sending him sprawling to the floor. “I am the voice of the American People!!”
“You are about to burn out.” Dimitri stated before the man slammed his boot into the Russian’s chest. “You don't understand what those things do to your body.”
“I know enough!!” The hostage taker hissed, spittle running down his cheeks. “Commander Simpson told me they make me strong, make me unstoppable, and that my mission was to liberate America from those people who wanted to destroy our homes and way of life!” He yelled, as Dimitri grabbed him by the leg and toppled him before placing his knees on the man’s arms and an elbow against his neck, removing the pot of pills.
“Your commander is sending you out to die!” Dimitri explained, as he forced a blue pill down the man’s throat. “You were to be a martyr for his cause, he wanted you to throw--” Before he could finish, the man kicked him off, grabbing the AR14 from the floor. His hands trembled as he aimed at Dimitri.
“FBI both of you hands up!” A stern voice announced causing both men to turn and look at the speaker. Armed with a 9mm and a badge displaying the logo of the Federal Bureau of Investigations was Angela. “Gun down now!” She ordered as the man turned back to face Dimitri.
“He'll kill me.” The hostage taker grunted. “Better to die for the cause then die because of it.” He yelled, as he turned to face Angela. The force of the bullets tore through his body, slamming him to the floor.
“He was calming down, the medication…”
“Not a chance I was willing to take.” Angela announced. “I will need you to give an eye witness statement Mr Bukharin.”
“How did you…”
“…know who you are? Did you really think we wouldn't keep an eye on you Crimson Dynamo? I have orders to make sure you didn't get involved in anything criminal, but this…let’s just say you just brought yourself a one way ticket back to Mother Russia.”
Now, if someone actually paid any attention to our schedule (guess what? we of the Writers Guild actually have a schedule! we don't pay attention to it but we have one!), then you would know @jonny_anonymous is scheduled for this week. However, thursday morning Jonny wrote on my wall to tell me that he had been forced to clean his laptop and it wiped the stories he had saved :(
You might not be aware (heck I don't know if even Jonny was aware) but one of the stories on that laptop was extremely important. This story wasn't just important because it was going to make up this edition of Writers Guild Present...no! it was even more important! It...was the best story in the world!
Jonny might not remember ever writing such a story as his memory was undoubtedly wiped by the same force which wiped his computer, but I remember. So without further ado, This is "the greatest and best story in the world... Tribute."
A long time ago, me and Johnny Anonymous somehow met up and went on a road trip. Unfortunately for us, we ran out of money around that turn at Albuquerque which Bugs Bunny always forgets to turn at whenever he travels. Thus, we were hitchhitching down a desolate desert highway in the middle of the night with nothing more than the stereotypical hitchhiker's backpack which consists of a stick and a sack on the end.
All of a sudden, there shined a shiny demon... in the middle... of the road.
And he said in a creepy voice which sounded remarkably like Jack Black, "Tell me the best song...I mean best story in the world, or I'll eat your souls!"
Well me and Jonny, we looked at each other. We ignored the fact that this situation sounded like Tenacious D's song Tribute. and we each said... "Okay." Hoping we wouldn't get sued for telling this story.
And we told the first thing that came to our heads which just so happened to be...The Best Story in the World. It was so great that we have to repeat that last statement: it was The Best Story in the World.
[What? You don't believe me? You think I'm crazy to think me and Jonny told the best story in the world? Well, I can't really say look into my eyes to tell if I am lying since this statement is text based but hopefully you believe me because if you don't I don't know what I am typing!]
Needless to say, the beast was stunned. He hadn't been expecting two writers to tell just such a story with just such an awesome plot.
He asked us with a snort and his wonderful Jack Black imitation, " Be you angels?"
And we said, "Nay. We are but men."
This is not The Greatest Story in the World, no. This is just a tribute. We couldn't remember The Greatest Story in the World. Or at least I don't. No, no. So this is just a tribute.
And the peculiar thing is this my friends: the story we told on that fateful night...it didn't actually sound anything like this story. This is just a tribute! You gotta believe me! I wish you had been there because while you might think it was a matter of opinion on that fateful night which Jonny has now forgotten...we told the best story in the world.
And this was my tribute.