Sorry to be a bit of a bore and a tease, but I'm afraid I surely must whore my work to get an opinion out of the world. I have started a new Marvel alternate reality series which I call 'World Supreme', so I have taken marvel characters and put my own spin on them, keeping characters superhero names but changed whatever else I so wished, I wish to keep this going and need your moral support to do so, just so I know there are people out there who are reading my works :) please check them out and post feedback on them, I shall update as regularly as possible, and do enjoy :D any questions ask here or in one of my threads. links below, cheers...
CELEBRATING MY FOURTH YEAR OF VINE MADNESS!! I know I've been here there and everywhere but essentially I never really left, so here's to my fourth year on this wonderful site, it has affected my life, especially my writing skills and I believe I have become a better person. Great fun, lovely people and the family forever grows. I feel like that uncle, which is at every family gathering, but sits in the corner drinking minding his business, he's always there but you never really talk, just a sly comment from out of the blue once in a while.
Well this was posted just to celebrate my valiant effort in sticking around and how better to spend it then conversing with you lovely people through another pointless thread of mine. (This is a bit overdue as I actually joined May 7th 2007)!!!!!!!
(I do not own these characters, they are property of DC Comics, only the idea and work is mine, personal views and concepts in this Fanfic are not necessarily my own and are merely created for entertainment purposes, I rate this 18: swearing and racial slurs some may find offensive... feel free to comment and enjoy)
Prologue: "Getting too Old"
Gotham groaned under its savior, and above Gotham it's savior groaned, as the Dark Knight thought to himself 'I'm getting too old for this' however he would never be able to stop, even if it killed him, even if it meant he was the last good brick standing between the Earth and it's destruction. He had been doing this a long time, and he was one of the few that remained. Despite wanting to inspire others to do better, even if that simply meant a young boy helping a woman in with her shopping, Batman feared that he was the last thread of hope and once he's gone the Earth will not see another shred of light. Of course maybe that was vein. There was always the Flash. Or the Green Lantern. Or the Atom, oh wait he was dead, right? Batman could never keep up these days. These long days, so cold and dark. Nothing compared to the Golden age, when, 'superhero' was a fresh term. Oh god, he was getting too old.
Gotham's rooftops crumbled under the heavy footsteps of the Batman, who was panting now, he had been following this kid for a while now, he was a teenager, Caucasian, six foot, low life, stealing the purse of helpless little old lady like that, no respect. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit, the kid was not agile, always bumping into people, this was not a clean getaway, however Batman was not very agile either, he preferred the straight lines, no zigzag bullshit, when he was younger it was fine, he could tolerate it, but now he just likes it straight to the point. He had just jumped from an erotic video store to a liquor store, not a particularly high building, nor was it particularly low, but it was his only shot, the pavement was at a clear stretch no one else but Batman and the thief, this was his chance. So he leaped.
The mugger turned his head just in time to see a black mound come crushing down upon him, which knocked the wind clean out of him, Batman weighed a ton, which was all the more impressive considering the old man had hunk the armour around almost constantly. The teenager was in tears, but Batman was relentless he raised a black clad fist and bought it down repeatedly into the boys face, harsh he knew, but if that was the only way to teach these punks a lesson he would continue to do. The Dark Knight only stopped when his hand was red and the boys nose looked more like potato mash than anything, if not everyone was a scumbag in Gotham Batman might have felt sorry for the doctor who would have to piece it together. But as far as the shit that happened in Gotham, the doctors were up to their noses in it. If anybody wanted you dead you better know how to fix yourself up, because the surgeons would sooner slice your neck than help cure cancer.
Batman stood, his knees shook with distinct disposition, but he held himself together, the boy lay in a puddle of blood and tears, Batman snarled, "Scum." hissed through his teeth. No respect these days. He took the old ladies bag and looked up to see a crowd had gathered. He hated being seen. Then one African American stepped forward, "Yo! Honky! Get your old white trash piece of ass out of here man" he shouted, flicking out a knife from his hoody pocket. Batman just watched as the group of six boys surrounding their leader did the same, "Yeah get your motherfucking cracker ass outta here man!" they all chipped in, Batman snarled. He hated being seen. "Look man you want to get cut?" Batman let the scene sink in and decided that it was not worth the effort, though not before he recounted the face of each boy there, the block they lived around and the symbols they wore. Part of the 'Black Hand', a group that Batman found rather irritating, an organization which believed some 'black god' would arise and take back the world with his infinite power.
Batman would indefinitely remember the leaders face. However it was time for hm to leave, he pulled loose from his belt a gun, causing the crowd to step back and gasp. He spun from the body of the crying white boy, who seemed to have soothed himself into sleep, or was pounded into a coma, cape quick at his heels he stopped at sight of the building behind him. Batman fired into the darkness and followed suit. No respect. No fear. Batman jumped a few houses making sure he was clear of the scene, before slumping against a wall and coming to sit on the roof. He was breathing heavy again. Pulling off his mask revealed a wary but wise, charming and familiar old face, rugged and handsome, it was obvious he had faced many battles, which most took to assuming was merely alcohol and drug abuse. Beads of sweat dropped from his grey brow, whilst strands of white hair was plastered to his forehead. Breathing hard, he tried to cool himself, but he could feel the blood trickling down his nostrils. Reaching to his utility belt he pulled free a syringe, which he plunged into his neck and released the refreshing liquid. He took a sharp, sucking intake of breath and wiped his nose before pulling the mask back up covering his identity. His name was Thomas Wayne, and he had been alone ever since his wife and son were shot down dead in crime alley.
(These creations are of either my own or fellow Viner ~The Wanderer~, this is set in an alternate Universe for my character Constantine and was inspired after Wando ultimatized me, so please enjoy, feel free to leave comments and I rate this 15+)
Azurian Prime (Part 1)
In The End
Two men stood against the horizon, beautiful blues, golds, purples and pink were washed across the sky, as though someone had painted them on canvas. The ground was hard and sandy, the golden grains were radiant as the light was reflect off them. It was a glorious morning in New Mexico. The two men were named Harvard Chamberson and Scott Wallace. Their real names were Attaron and Constantine. It was a long time since Attaron had been called by his true name, Constantine preferred his. They were both ripely aged at fifty-four and shared the same birthday, of course this was not all they had in common, they were not human. They were Azurians, Prime Azurians, generals of sorts, once looked upon as gods, now mere mortals. They were of a once proud race, rulers of an ancient Earth, creators of Humans, advanced beyond human dreams. Of course this was lost in the great flood and the Primes were torn apart. Azurians still walk today, even those pure of blood, but there and then, in New Mexico, was the last two Azurian Primes, reborn. Though soon, there would be none.
Constantine stood tall, his face handsome but rugged, his made many question his age? but his eye told the answer. The other had been torn from him in battle and was covered by a black eye-patch held secure by a dark strap that stretched around his head. The one eye that remained was of a liquid gold chocolate colour just as the other had been. Constantine still retained a full head of hair which stuck up fluffy and light, an oak brown, with white hair fleshed across the sides surrounding his ears. He was dressed in the attire of a special agent, which was what his agents at Wallace Enterprises would wear. Accompanying him were a mass of gadgets and weaponry provided by his company and the carefully assorted Azurian artifacts. His opponent wore a simple grey business suit, with crisp black leather shoes, all finely tailored by the world's best, with slicked back dark red hair. Attaron held his giant battle axe in both hands steadily awaiting battle, Constantine pulled loose the Energy Blade of Aberon, in unison they raised their weapons and hastened into battle.
The Plane touched down in Tokyo. Wheels skidded harshly on the reflective wet surface of the runway at night. It was the private jet of one businessman Scott Wallace. He had arrived for personal affairs. After a short trip in the companies black BMW, Constantine and his duffel bag was in central Tokyo. He wore tight dark blue denim jeans, a brown leather bomber jacket with a black t-shirt underneath which held loosely to Con's finely sculpted body, topped off with a pair of stylish black leather boots. His left eye was covered by a patch, it had been that way for a couple of years now. Lost in battle. Albert (Constantine's butler) had a tough time patching him up after that incident. Con stood looking down to the items in his hand, in his right was a folded map and the left a list of names from ancient history, seven down, time for an eighth. Con had been doing this for a while now but still was never entirely sure that he would succeed in his mission, but they had done him wrong and it was time for revenge.
He folded the list away into his jacket pocket and hoisted his duffel bag's strap over his head to come to rest on his right shoulder and allow the duffel bag to lay freely at his side. Using the map Constantine plotted out his route toward a rival company building, Haito Incorporated. It was not in an expected area, the building itself glorious nonetheless but it was surrounded by the grimy Tokyo slums rather than other corporate skyscrapers, this was a strategy organized by Haito Inc. CEO Saito Yasotushi, the company bought cheap land, demolished the surrounding area before erecting a beautiful architectural piece, as to show off how much better Haito inc. is to those around it. It worked. However Con was not after the company but an employee, Mori Takemochi, the eighth Azurian Prime, reborn to a mortal body. Cutting down into a dark alley beside the building he found a stairway leading to the basement where Mori worked. Upon entering he was bombarded by wires and all manners of technology that covered the entire room. Behind a metal skeleton which looked like it had been strong up to die, Con saw his victim, tinkering with a new invention. Con put his duffel bag down and made himself noticed, "Hello, are you Miro Takemochi?" he asked, his voice smooth, "Yes! Tourist? Can you not see I'm busy, what do you want?" Miro retorted impatiently, "Well I hear that you are the best, and my laptop is broken it needs fixing" Con said trying his best to seem civilian, "Yes, yes! leave name, I contact you" Miro flicked his hand at Con signaling him to leave, Constantine came closer and leaned into Miro's ear "Hekilion!" Miro's eyes flashed wide and Con wrapped his arms around his head putting Hekilion to sleep.
I thought it would do no harm to give a shout out (hey NH did it) about my new Batman project "At Dark Ends", in the fan-fic area (my first FF on an actual comic character, almost), I've been working on my English for GCSEs (just got a B) and thought it would be a good test of writing, especially with some feedback.
And I thought who better to talk about writing other than my RPG buddies so yeah, please read it and let me know how you feel. BTW the start isn't particularly pleasant, so do excuse (it's not like it's my fantasy or anything).
P.S. I know there's a lot to improve on so be gentle ;D
Ok, I live down here in England and a few months ago I took some GCSE's two years early. I got my results yesterday and for my three exams I got two C's and a grade 2 in ICT, and I'm very pleased with my self. so go me. I also did french, which was "equivalent" to a GCSE which I need to hear about yet. but I'm pleased about what I got.
not much has been revealed on M. Night Shyamalan's Avatar adaption of the hit nickelodeon TV series but from what has I don't think I'm going to like it, I loved the show and still do and don't want to see this ruined, so unfortunately I may have to blind myself. The story is the same, set in an a world of Asian influenced martial arts and Magic, where the avatar is reawokened and soon on his way to save the world with his new friends. Avatar Aang is to be played by Noah Singer and Zuko is to be played by Dev Patel (made famous by slumdog millionaire) and Jackson Rathbone is to appear in this movie and right now I'm thinking he is to be Sokka. Now this is supposed to be asain or possibly english as the TV series was but everything seems to be indian, I have nothing against them but I am pretty peeved from the pics I've seen., anyways...pics: