Lisa Knight's Blog, page 15

FAN FICTION: EXILES #8 – WALLS BETWEEN US PT.1 (DIVIDED PT 1) BY ADRIAN J.WATTS

When the ball of blue mist passed through the thick dome surrounding the tiny nation of Symkaria, its people were overwhelmed simultaneously with shock and hope. They did not know what the cascade of sparkling energy was – for all they could tell it might have been a biological hazard! – but they didn’t really care; what struck them was the fact that something, something seemingly tangible, had penetrated the source of their imprisonment.

The energy seemed to settle within a small forest, and a few of the country’s braver citizens cautiously made their way to where they thought the mist had stopped – but to their surprise and dismay, they found nothing. Had their eyes deceived them? Had they simply seen a trick of the light, the reflection of the blue sky against the impenetrable dome? They did not know, and they did not have the means, or the strength of will, to investigate. They turned, left the forest and returned to their lives.

The people of Symkaria had observed an unusual form of energy passing through the heated dome; there was no deception, at least not by their own senses. The mist had been what the Exiles were becoming all too familiar with – the energy that accompanied them, the energy into which their bodies were now accustomed to being transmuted into, as they were pulled from one dimension to the next or their vague mission of exploration and education.

They had, indeed, materialised within the forest as suspected by those who witnessed their appearance – but it was a simple, almost instinctive task for Aleta to wrap her teammates in a sphere of light that matched the angle of refraction of the dome itself, rendering them entirely invisible. It was only after the brave souls who investigated their arrival were fully beyond her view that she allowed the sphere to dissolve, exposing her allies to the bright light of day.

But… they weren’t all her allies, or all of her allies. One of the men she had come to call her friend was gone, perhaps forever, to be replaced by what she assumed was and always would be nothing more than a hated foe.

“Nightcrawler!” Joseph snarled as he and the other Exiles, realised that the teleporting member of the Crimson Circle had followed them through space and, perhaps, time. “Don’t move!”

The figure, actually named Nachtgleiskette, paused, giving the Exiles a chance to really observe him – they had only seen him in the relative darkness of the Crimson Circle’s lair a moment earlier. Each of them was surprised by his jet black skin and glowing gold eyes, nostrils and lips. He remained still, letting the sunlight, filtered through the dome, wash over him.

“You have again confu–” he began to say, in a heavy German accent.

“Monster!” Ph-Eros shouted. He lunged at Nachtgleiskette, his hand outstretched, but Scamp jerked him aside. He calmed almost immediately and looked his friend in the eyes. “He killed Daywalker.”

“No, he didn’t,” Scamp said softly. “It’s not his fault.”

Ph-Eros opened his mouth to protest, but as looked closely at Scamp’s face his eyes came to rest on the two puncture marks adorning her neck. He remembered – and it shocked him that he had not remembered sooner, since the actual event had taken place only minutes earlier – that Scamp had allegedly been bitten by one member of the Crimson Circle and turned into a vampire.

“W-where’s the Stranger?” Firefly asked nervously.

The Exiles, as well as Nachtgleiskette, all peered carefully into the dark foliage of the forest but found that they could not see or hear anything. Aleta, at least, was certain the Stranger had appeared, unconscious, in the forest beside the rest of her companions – she distinctly recalled the extra effort it took to bend the light around his unusually massive form.

She wondered, briefly, where he could have gone – then decided, coldly, that she did not care. While Ph-Eros chose to blame Nachtgleiskette for Daywalker’s death, Aleta clearly recalled what actually happened; that a mad Doc Savage – the almost uncontrollable, beast-like alter ego of the Mysterious Stranger – had slammed Daywalker’s body hard against the machine that was the source of the Crimson Circle’s power. He had killed a friend, whether he meant to or not, and it was going to be a while before Aleta would forgive him.

“We don’t have time to worry about him,” Joseph spoke, calmly saying what Aleta knew she could not. “We need to find shelter. We cannot risk exposing Scamp and Nightcrawler to the sun any longer. Once we have somew–”

“Stop,” Nachtgleiskette interrupted. “I have something to say.”

Ph-Eros rolled his eyes. “You don’t get to speak.”

Nachtgleiskette smiled. “Not even if it is to tell you how to save your friend?”

The castle that formed the seat of political power in Symkaria was overrun with activity as reports of the mysterious blue mist that seemed able to penetrate the energy dome came flooding in. Even as those who saw the event for themselves rushed to report their sightings to government officials, the political authorities in Symkaria made their own observations, using sophisticated equipment designed specifically to analyse and record events involving the dome.

They knew that the mist had arrived within moments of its arrival – but they had no idea how it had passed through the dome when nothing else could, leaving scientists scratching their heads as Prime Minister Sakrova entered the main monitoring laboratory.

“What news?” she asked coolly.

“Nothing,” replied once scientist. “Witnesses tell us the mist settled in a forest just south of… wait! What’s that?”

The scientist pointed to one monitor, and one of his companions rushed to scrutinise it. What he saw was a large, lumbering, apparently amphibian-looking monster lumbering through the woods. It seemed dazed and unfocused, pausing only to crush trees and brush that got in its way.

“Despatch the Wild Pack. Capture the beast,” Sakrova said. “Whatever it is, it came through the dome.”

“We don’t know that,” the scientist replied.

“Yes, we do,” Sakrova responded, “unless you are telling me your monitors have missed it all this time?”

The scientist swallowed hard. “N-no, Prime Minister,” he said. “But must we capture it? Silver Sable would – ”

“Silver Sablinova is dead,” Sakrova told him, “and her authority to – how did she put it? – ‘have dibs’ on matters of a superhuman or supernatural nature died with her. Bring the beast to me. It may hold the key to bringing down the dome!”

Sakrova turned on her heel and marched out of the laboratory as the scientist summoned the Wild Pack – Symkaria’s elite, formerly-private battalion of superhuman mercenaries – to the castle. Like it or not, they were going to engage the monster in battle, and there was not a thing he could do about it.

“Dr. Rikova?” another scientist stared at him. “Are you okay?”

“No… I certainly am not.”

“What?” Joseph asked. “We don’t have time for this. Either tell us how to restore Scamp or leave us.”

“I’m fine,” Scamp whispered, but no-one seemed to respond.

Nachtgleiskette rolled his eyes. “Do not think you can threaten me, human.”

Joseph smiled. “Human? I’m anything but. Now – how do we cure Scamp?”

“I’m fine,” Scamp repeated.

“You are not human?” Nachtgleiskette stared at Joseph. “You certainly look human. Perhaps – ”

Ph-Eros leaped, and struck the side of Nachtgleiskette’s head with the back of his hand. The jet black man staggered back, then turned to face Joseph again. “You use the child to fight your battles?”

“Tell us how to save Scamp!” Ph-Eros snapped.

“I’M FINE!” Scamp shouted angrily. “Listen to me! Whatever that bite was, it hasn’t done anything to me. And even if I wasn’t… Nachtgleiskette isn’t to blame!”

Aleta stepped forward and put one arm around Scamp’s shoulders, but the younger woman shrugged it away. She took a few angry steps away from the group, took a deep breath, then turned to face them again – but she did not speak.

“If Scamp is fine,” Joseph said, “then you have nothing to offer us, Nightcrawler.”

“For the last time: I am not the person you think I am!” Nachtgleiskette was becoming visibly angry – and as his anger increased, his German accent seemed to decrease. “What ‘Scamp’ tells you is true – she is unharmed… now.”

“Then – ” Joseph began to speak, but Aleta raised a hand to interrupt him.

“If Scamp is fine, then what did you mean about saving our friend?” Aleta asked.

“I was referring to the Daywalker,” Nachtgleiskette replied. “You think he is destroyed, but – ” His voice quickly transformed into a whisper. ” – do not move! Woman, transform the light around us once again!”

Aleta concentrated and slowly flexed her wrists. Again, the light in the area bent around the still bodies of the Exiles, rendering them invisible to any type of light-dependent sensor – including eyes – that may have come across them. She waited nervously, focusing on maintaining absolute perfection in her illusion; until something struck the back of her head, hard.

“Aleta!” Joseph snapped.

“Don’t move!” a voice shouted from the trees. “Put your hands up!”

“No way!” Ph-Eros replied, and he, too, was struck unconscious by an unseen blow.

“Surrender, intruders!” the voice shouted again. “Put your hands up!”

“Exiles…” Joseph said. “Raise your hands. They have us.”

The undersea kingdom of Atlantis had experienced many setbacks in recent months. First, an energy wave separated the royal palace and several surrounding buildings from the rest of the sunken city and, days later, containers bearing the markings of a surface nation dropped from the surface to spill a noxious liquid into the ocean, poisoning half the population.

However, Prince Namor had not been aware of any of this, having been held captive by the Mandarin for close to a year. As he swam through the murky depths toward his shattered kingdom, he passed many decomposing Atlantean bodies and, finally, swam headlong into the impenetrable energy field that divided the realm.

“What is this?!” he demanded. Through the field, he could see one of his dying followers, at first delighted to see his master, and then desperately pointing to one the containers that had settled into the soft seabed. Namor stared at it intently, scrutinising the symbols on its side. “???????? Symkaria,” he muttered. Then, more loudly: “Symkaria! Such an act against our kingdom can not go unanswered! Though I must confront them alone, the people of Symkaria will know no mercy from the avenging son! Imperius Rex!”

The Exiles walked calmly through the densely decorated halls of Castle Symkaria, the Wild Pack marching, guns ready, several feet behind them. Their leader, a man of Russian origin and wearing a tight-fitting red and black striped costume and carrying a rectangular shield had identified himself as Battlestar. He explained that the Exiles were in no danger but demanded that they allow themselves to be escorted to the castle for debriefing.

Joseph had agreed, but not before demonstrating the ease with which he could disable his captors’ weapons if he chose. He used his control over magnetism to twist then straighten the barrels of their guns, and warned them that the moment a bullet or any other projectile was aimed at his friends, he would do more than disable the Wild Pack’s weapons.

But still, the Wild Pack carried their weapons before them, more to assure the castle staff of their own safety than anything else. They walked quickly and purposefully into the main meeting chamber occupied by the Prime Minister, who rose as the Exiles and the Wild Pack entered.

“Wild Pack…?”

Battlestar stepped forward and briefly bowed before the Prime Minister.

“Prime Minister Sakrova,” he said. “While pursuing the amphibian, we found these six congregating in the forest. At least two of their number have displayed superhuman powers, and we found this – ” he pulled a small, perfectly round sphere from his pocket, which Joseph immediately recognised as the one presented to the Exiles by Spratt days earlier ” – in the undergrowth nearby.”

Sakrova nodded, then turned to the Exiles. “Who are you?”

“We call ourselves the Exiles,” Joseph replied.

“And we’d like to say this isn’t the welcome we expected,” Ph-Eros said, rubbing the back of his head, “but we’re getting used to this sort of thing.”

Sakrova nodded again and produced a large photograph. She handed it to Joseph, who only needed to glance at it once to identify its subject as Doc Savage. “Are you associated with this creature?”

Joseph handed the photo back. “He is an associate of ours. The Mysterious Stranger.”

“Then you passed through the energy dome with it,” Sakrova concluded. “You can assist us.”

Joseph frowned. “What is this about?”

“Two months ago,” Sakrova explained, “a dome of unidentifiable energy surrounded our nation. We have been able to pass anything through it, and it has entirely halted our communication with the rest of the world. Even Battlestar, a teleporting mutant, has been able to penetrate it.

“Days after the dome was erected, the body of one of our most celebrated citizens, Silver Sablinova, was found hanging from a tree just outside the dome, with a Latverian flag strung across her body. We naturally assume that Doctor Doom, the ruler of Latveria, is responsible for creating the dome, but that does not help us to disable it.

“You, however, seem to have passed through it.”

“We did,” Joseph responded, “but we cannot help you. The means by which we travelled here are beyond our control.”

Sakrova nodded, then shook her head sadly. “In that case, I am afraid you must remain here until our scientists can find a way to control it.”

“You can’t keep us here!” Firefly yelped.

“Yes, I can,” Sakrova told him. “Even if I could not, you cannot leave the confines of the dome. You are trapped anyway. At least this way, you have the full support of the Symkarian government during your time here. You look tired. Rest, eat, and tomorrow my scientists will find out how you came to be here.”

The Exiles faced one another and realised Sakrova was right. They could not escape, and even if they could, they had nowhere to go – and it had been so long since they had had a full, good night’s sleep or anything substantial to eat. One-by-one, they allowed Battlestar to show them to finely-furnished quarters and went to sleep.

Late that night, Scamp made her way into Ph-Eros’ room and gently shook him awake. The naked Ph-Eros pulled his sheets tightly around his body as he became aware of Scamp’s presence. He looked at her, still clad in her filthy red bodysuit, the skin around his eyes – barely visible behind her sunglasses – dark and sagging. She had not slept.

“Come here…” he said. He pulled her close and wrapped his thin arms around her body. She half-heartedly tried to push him away, but when he did not let go she started to relax and to speak.

“Daywalker…” she said. “He didn’t…”

“I know,” Ph-Eros whispered. “Don’t worry. Just go to sleep.”

He placed the back of his bare hand against Scamp’s cheek and began to whisper softly, using his unique powers to urge her to sleep. But nothing happened. He tried a second time. Still nothing.

“It wasn’t Nachtgleiskette’s fault,” she said. “He – ”

“Don’t,” Ph-Eros said. “I don’t – ”

“We couldn’t help – ”

“Don’t say that!” Ph-Eros snapped. He pulled his arms away, and Scamp bolted upright. She stood, and took a few steps away from his bed. “I don’t care who killed him, Scamp! But Daywalker was our friend, and Nachtgleiskette was one of the people who made his life literally a living hell!”

“You don’t know – ”

“Get out!”

Scamp nodded, turned, and walked calmly out of the room. Ph-Eros sat up and began to breathe heavily. He was worried. Not about Scamp, really – she seemed tough, and to be coping as well as most people would under the circumstances. No, he was more worried about why his suggestive powers did not work on her, and what that meant for his other secrets.

He ran one hand across his face and another across his chest, feeling the welts and scars that were usually invisible to everyone but himself. All of the Exiles had been secretive to some extent; no-one knew much about anyone else, although Ph-Eros did suspect that Daywalker and Scamp were closer than any other Exiles. But Ph-Eros had more reason than most to keep his secrets, and he was not going to let something petty like grief ruin his one chance to do what he had to do.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ph-Eros saw Firefly standing in the corner of the doorway, staring at him. The boy was dressed in complicated Symkarian robes that made him look rather like a gypsy, and he seemed more than a little confused about why Ph-Eros was rubbing his skin.

“‘s cold,” Ph-Eros muttered. “What do you want?”

“S-scamp’s right, you know,” Firefly said. “Nachtgleiskette isn’t responsible for killing Daywalker.”

“Don’t even – ”

“Let me finish!” Ph-Eros was taken aback by the force of Firefly’s demand. “Nachtgleiskette may be a jerk, but he didn’t kill Daywalker. We both know who did.”

“You mean…?”

“Savage,” Firefly said simply.

“Yeah…”

“So…” Firefly seemed nervous about whatever he was going to say next, and he paused for a long time before speaking again. “Are you going to help me kill him?”

NEXT ISSUE: Savage vs. Firefly vs. Namor!

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

POETRY: IT’LL ALL ENDIN TEARS BY PAUL TRISTRAM

She sat on the yellowing white plastic picnic chair

to the left of the front door of her little bungalow.

Squinting down the pleasant, gentle slope of lawn

to the road and pavement full of ‘Idiots with nothing

better to do with themselves’ and shook her wrinkled

fist at a double-decker bus full of scratchy school kids

going past and muttered aloud “Scruffy Little Herbert’s!”

Then slipped into a bread and butter pudding reverie

for ten minutes or so before shrugging herself out of it

by coughing and farting at exactly the same time.

“78 this November…not a sodding penny they’ll get!”

A teenage couple had the misfortune to stroll by,

hand in hand, smiling, blushing, happy as Springtime

and madly in love, it was a beautiful thing to behold

She threw half a cup of cold tea, hard, upon the grass

towards them and cursed loudly in a shrieking voice

“He’ll break your heart love, cheat on you, his eyes

are full of it, he looks like his father, a bastard also!

She’ll give you a dose of the pox boy, there’s a slut

at work behind that false smile, it’ll all end in tears,

mark my words, you dirty, filthy pair of Bastards!”

Written by Paul Tristram

Available to buy via Lulu

FAN FICTION: GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #87 “SECRETS OF THE SPHINX” BY ADRIAN J. WATTS

Avyos

The Kree refugee ships slowly settled onto the lush surface of the planet Avyos. One-by-one, the few surviving Kree disembarked from their vessels and were met by the large, broad-shouldered, heavy-winged Avyan population. It took only a handful of hours for each Kree to be treated for whatever minor injuries they had sustained; to be given food; for shelter to be organised.

All the while, Gan-Vell – the young Kree warrior possessed of the incredibly powerful nega-bands – hovered in orbit, keeping an eye out for any sign of danger: specifically, the approach of the Ruul and their tyrannical battle master, Valaar.

I know they’re coming! But what can I do? he wondered. That Starhawk guy –

Yes, Captain Marvel?

Gan-Vell shuddered as he heard Starhawk’s voice in his head. Somehow, the man had established and maintained a psionic link with him as he travelled through space. The Kree had no idea how such a thing was possible – but it had happened. It was happening.

The Kree are safe, Gan-Vell thought. What should I do now?

Remain where you are. The Kree should be safe where they are, and Valaar should not prove to be of any further concern – but you must remain to safeguard the Kree just in case.

And where are you?

Somewhere I truly do not wish to be…

Avyos

Stakar Ogord materialised aboard the Guardians’ ship, the Captain America III, with no light or sound to mark his arrival. For a moment, everything around the man’s blue-and-yellow-garbed form seemed to stand still; like he was the sole figure aboard the ship able to actively interact with reality.

Eventually, time caught up with him, and his arrival was noticed – by the person he hoped would be the last to see him.

“STARHAWK!”

Charlie-27’s voice boomed loudly from the ship’s cockpit, booming with such force that it seemed to rattle the very foundations of the starship. Despite his massive power, Starhawk could not help but feel uncomfortable; he was hardly welcome among the Guardians of the Galaxy anymore, and while he did not agree with their reasons for disliking and distrusting him, he certainly understood them.

“Calm yourself, Captain-27,” he said. “I did not come here to fight.”

“There are two sides to a fight, pal, and just ’cause you didn’t come asking – ” Charlie-27 began to reply as he stomped his way out of the cockpit.

“Shut up, Charlie,” Martinex snapped. “What are you doing here, Starhawk?”

Starhawk turned to the crystalline Guardian.

“I have come to report that the Kree Gan-Vell has managed to ferry the last Kree refugees to safety,” Starhawk said. “You no longer need to concern yourselves with them… or the Ruul.”

Kay-Den, the former Kree ambassador to the Galactic Council, could not remain silent.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, Councillor Kay-Den, that, by the time the Ruul find the Kree and carry out your master’s wishes, we will be long gone – and hopefully, the Kree will be with us,” Starhawk replied.

Martinex and Charlie-27 looked at Kay-Den.

“Your… master?” Martinex asked.

“D-don’t listen to – ” Kay-Den stammered.

“Guardians,” Starhawk easily brought the attention back to himself. “Do not concern yourself with him. The Snark Rommel can fly this vessel; we, however, must travel to Earth.”

Charlie-27 laughed.

“What makes you think we would go anywhere with you?”

When Charlie-27 began to speak, he and his fellow Guardians – Martinex, Nikki, Yondu – were safely aboard the Captain America III. When he finished, he found himself standing in the heart of Latveria; in Castle Doom, just outside the nation’s capital of Doomstadt.

“Because you had no choice, Jovian buffoon.”

Charlie-27 whirled at the sound of Doctor Doom’s voice. There was something… off… about it. Something that made him uneasy, something he definitely did not appreciate.

“You’re not Vernard,” he said.

“Of course not. That insolent whelp – ” Doom took a deep breath. “Kristoff Vernard is no longer among us. I am the true Doom.”

Martinex frowned.

“What is this, Starhawk?” he asked. “Now you are teaming up with one of Earth’s most diabolical villains?”

“Doctor Doom now rules the Earth, Martinex,” Starhawk explained. “Not that this should concern any of us for it is not the Earth of our universe.”

Nikki laughed.

“Come on, Starhawk – out with it already.”

Starhawk nodded at the flame-haired Mercurian.

“Very well,” Starhawk said. “I have tried to determine the most delicate way of telling you all of this, but it seems I must be more direct than I would have liked.” He took a long, deep breath. “This world, this universe, is not ours.”

“Again?” Martinex asked. “Who caused the trouble this time?”

“The Sphinx – and, in a way, the Sphinx will help us undo the damage our presence here has wrought on the multiverse,” Starhawk explained.

Nikki scratched her head.

“The Sphinx? You mean that whacky woman we followed to the twentieth century? When we fought the New Warriors?*”

[ * – in NEW WARRIORS #68 – Adrian ]

“I do,” Starhawk replied. “When we were cast back out of that time period, the Sphinx’s own time manipulation brought us into another world that was not ours**. We left that world to arrive here – and although none of you have noticed, things have been askew ever since.”

[ ** – in GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #63 – Adrian ]

“What do you mean?” Yondu asked.

“It is doubtful that any of you will recall this, but before you went back through time to thwart the Martian invasion of Earth my mother, Kismet, and I were undertaking our own explorations of the galaxy – suddenly, my mother had vanished,” Starhawk offered.

“But that was because it was the other you… the one from the fake-Sphinx-reality, right?” Nikki asked.

“No. I suspected the same and doubted my own memories, but a detailed investigation into the myriad timelines over which we have crossed shows that this form was indeed the one who encountered Kismet and determined his father’s identity, just as the other Starhawk did.

“In any event, that is only one instance of mistaken actuality.”

Martinex rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I understand,” he said. “Somehow, the combination of the Sphinx knocking us off the mark and our own cross-time capering has confused things… messed up the continuity of reality.”

“Yes,” Starhawk confirmed.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” Charlie-27 asked.

“I told you – the Sphinx will assist us in returning to our rightful place in the multiverse.”

“You trust her?” Nikki asked.

Starhawk smirked.

“That is not the Sphinx I meant.”

Doctor Doom laughed loudly.

“Starhawk refers to the Egyptian megalith, which I have restored within the sprawling metropolis that is now Cairea, in Africa,” Doom explained. “The Sphinx will be built some twenty years from now by Kang the Conqueror, as a time machine, which he will use to travel back in time and rule Egypt as the Pharaoh Rama-Tut; the Sphinx will be left behind, for me to restore and offer to you now.”

“I have determined, with the assistance of Mainframe and Doctor Doom, that three realities have been twisted,” Starhawk said. “With the Sphinx, we can enter the space between worlds, something I am currently unable to do. There, I can effortlessly undo the damage that has been done; this world, however, will remain largely unchanged.

“We will return to our proper reality; the Ruul and the Kree to theirs.”

Nikki’s jaw dropped.

“You want us to abandon the Kree?” she asked.

“Their universe has its own defenders,” Starhawk replied. “Gan-Vell, Valaar, Cat-Lass and others.”

“What about Vance?” Martinex asked.

“And Giraud? Autolycus? Mainframe? Hollywood? Yellowjacket? Aleta? Talon?” Nikki added.

Starhawk looked at the ground for a moment.

“Everything that we have endured these past years has happened, despite our fragile temporal balance,” he said. “I believe that if given the chance to unravel the twisted timelines, I can undo all that was done to our fallen friends; however Vance, whose latest trials took place in yet another reality, will be unaffected.

“Vance and Yellowjacket will remain in the twentieth century.” And Aleta will continue on her own adventures, with my guidance***.

[ *** – was that just a major EXILES spoiler? Yes, it was. – Adrian ]

“I do not like this,” Yondu said. “You are asking us to place a lot of trust in you. Trust you have not proved worthy of in the past.”

Starhawk nodded gravely.

“I appreciate your concern, Yondu,” he said, “but, unfortunately… you have no choice.”

For the briefest of moments, Starhawk closed his eyes and concentrated with the full force of his will. He could feel the universe bending, warping and twisting around him; he could feel his presence, and that of the other four Guardians, inside the sandstone Sphinx; he could feel the time machine’s delicate controls; and he could feel the will of Doctor Doom, guiding his hands as he manipulated those controls.

“Yondu! Martinex!” Charlie-27 shouted. “Stop – ”

He was too late.

Space and time folded around the Sphinx and, in less than an instant, the Guardians of the Galaxy no longer existed in any true reality. For several moments, Starhawk felt relieved; he knew that no matter what happened next, the Guardians’ erring manipulation of the timestream would be over – even if they prevented him from completing his mission, they could never return to the world they had just left, or any other; not even Martinex had the ability to control the Sphinx.

Starhawk blinked and found himself floating calmly outside the time machine. He let the chronal energy that surrounded him flow through him as he moved his hands, symbolically depicting the rearrangement of reality itself, a process taking place on a plane far beyond that which could be perceived by the other Guardians.

Suddenly, something was wrong.

Starhawk felt pain; awful, agonising, terrible pain – but it was not any sort of physical pain he had experience. It seemed as if his soul itself was being ripped in half. He did what he could to hold himself together; he looked back at the Sphinx, desperately seeking aid, but just as desperately hoping the Guardians did not see his weakness.

No! I cannot be defeated now!

He gestured at the Sphinx, which immediately became surrounded by a heavy purple mist.

It is done.

The Sphinx slowly faded from existence, as did Starhawk’s rapidly-weakening form.

I do not know what is to become of me now, he thought, but the Guardians will have no memory of this or anything else they have experienced since our encounter with the Sphinx.

I do not know what is to become of me now, he thought, but the Guardians will have no memory of this or anything else they have experienced since our encounter with the Sphinx.

The timestream has been saved. The Guardians have been saved. All is as it should be.

The timestream has been saved. The Guardians have been saved. All is as it should be.

Now I am free to destroy Aleta.

What?!

NEXT ISSUE: It is a brand new beginning for the Guardians of the Galaxy! Starhawk, Charlie-27, Martinex, Yondu, Hollywood and Nicholette finally find their way home, free of the knowledge of their torturous encounters in the anomalous timestream. Be here, for the beginning of a brand new era in GotG history!

AND: To learn the fate of Gan-Vell, Valaar and Cat-Lass be sure to read future issues of Exiles, also here at the Epic Branch!

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

POETRY: IT’S JUST THE BENDS FROM OUR CONVERSATION EARLIER BY PAUL TRISTRAM

“It’s Ok, I’ll be fine, stop mothering me.

Go to the shops like you wanted to.

I’m just going to lay here awhile

and float, switch off for a bit.

I know it’s the floor behind the settee

but it’s comforting and soothing

it’s like ‘Furniture Heroin’

Don’t be so silly, I won’t suffocate

and if the house catches fire

there are exit holes at each end.

Thank you for your concern

but you are starting to make things worse

and I don’t have a paper bag to breathe into.

No, I’m not starting anything,

I’m not even in the room…properly, anymore?

I know how much you are trying, I’m trying too,

I just need half hour to myself right now.

It’s not selfish at all but it is important.

Ok, I’ll watch out for spiders,

yes, get me 12 cans of Lynx (yellow cans)

and 20 Regal King Size (blue ones)

Alright, I promise to be out when you get back,

can you just leave the bag of beer and fags

outside the garden shed door?

I’m going to try to invent something

this afternoon…from balsa wood and excuses!”

Written by Paul Tristram

Available to buy via Lulu

POETRY: HERBY SOUP & WURZEL SHIT BY PAUL TRISTRAM

They are at it again over in Tee-pee Valley,

yogurt-weaving like it’s going out of fashion.

Collecting fox farts and badger belches

in rainwater cleaned recycling jars.

Boiling up cauldrons of lentils and beans,

selfishly never thinking of the nuclear flatulence

that each member of this passive aggressive tribe

will be tooting up towards the delicate ozone layer

around six hours after ladling and digesting.

Playing didgeridoos’ at midnight is just wrong

and unnatural, upsetting the general owl population

for miles in every direction, making them either

apathetic or suicidal and completely abstain

from what Mother Nature intended them to be doing.

‘Trespassers Will Be Tai Chi-ed To Death’

after first meditating upon their wrong doings.

The clouds of hashish smoke is curdling the milk

of the dairy farm next-door and I’m forever tripping

up over traps and snares that they’re disguising

as fairy rings upon the side of the woodland road.

We need to stop these ‘dirty hippies’ right now,

before their damage becomes complete, they need

to be forced back into council houses, made to take

back their bongos and wind chimes to the streets.

Written by Paul Tristram

Available to buy via Lulu

FAN FICTION: EXILES #7 – FULL CIRCLE (“DARK DESIGNS”) PT.3 BY ADRIAN J.WATTS

Daywalker’s feet pounded the hard surface of the hotel roof as he ran across its long, rain-slicked surface. When he reached its edge he did not even pause to plan his leap – he simply allowed the toes of one foot to grip the narrow grooves between the roof’s tiles as his other foot reached over the void; then he let go, and allowed his body to sail gracefully through the air to the next nearest rooftop. He landed without a sound and continued running, barefoot and shirtless, toward his destination.

For almost two decades, his world had been under a spell, one which enshrouded the Earth in absolute darkness and forced more than ninety percent of the planet’s population to live a half-life as a vampire. He knew there were people out there who, like him, had managed to survive the spell that transformed the rest of the world; and although he had never met even one of them, he dedicated his life to defeating the Crimson Circle – the three “head vampires” who maintained the spell – and making the world bearable for everyone.

And he was going to defeat them alone.

Sure, in recent days Daywalker had made a number of friends: Aleta, the light-bending Arcturan from the 31st century; Joseph, the remarkable mutant master of magnetism; Ph-Eros, the most irritating person Daywalker had ever encountered; The Mysterious Stranger, an arrogant, aloof magician who was never around when he was needed; Firefly, a kid who could sprout wings from his back and shoot fire from his fingertips…

… and Scamp. Of all the Exiles, Scamp was the one with whom he had developed the closest bond. She was the only person he had ever truly considered a friend, and the only person he had ever willingly opened up to about his past. He suspected that he loved her, and that was why he was going to fight alone.

Stephen Strange screamed in agony as the beautiful landscape of the floating island twisted and contorted, forming a rock-hard, air-tight cocoon around his body. He could not breathe, and his scream excised the last breath from his lungs. Soon, no sound passed his lips, and the land that had registered in his brain as pure nothingness moments earlier* suddenly became everything to him – his whole, hellish, claustrophobic world.

[ * – last issue ]

His mind was bombarded with images so rapidly that he could not even comprehend a single one. For what felt like years – but which the rapidly dwindling logical part of Stephen’s brain knew was only seconds – he remained trapped, unable to break free but not wanting to, despite the torture.

It was painful, it was terrifying, but it was also his fondest desire.

Ph-Eros woke up, looked out the window, and saw that it was still dark.

He went back to sleep.

Ph-Eros awoke again, looked out the window, saw that it was still dark… and remembered where he was: the evil, vampire-ridden dimension that Daywalker so lovingly called home. He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, yawned, and stood up. He walked slowly to the room next door – the large, electric-powered suite that Daywalker and Scamp had occupied overnight and found it empty.

He walked, tired and groggy, through the rest of the hotel’s many rooms – and found that all but one was empty. He began to panic and ran back to the only occupied room in the hotel; the one shared by Aleta, Joseph and Firefly.

“Guys!” he shouted. “Wake up!”

Joseph’s eyes opened first, and the white-haired mutant leaped out of bed and onto his feet. Aleta and Firefly took a few more moments to stir, but as they became aware of Ph-Eros’ growing, terrified impatience they picked themselves up and waited attentively.

“Scamp and Daywalker are gone!”

“Are you sure?” Aleta realised how stupid the question sounded the second it passed her lips. Of course, he was sure, or he wouldn’t have said it.

“Am I sure?” Ph-Eros repeated. “Of course I’m sure, or I wouldn’t have said it!”

“Calm down,” Joseph said softly, his heavy Eastern European accent more than making up for lack of force behind his voice. “You’ve checked the entire hotel?”

“Yes!”

“This is Daywalker’s home reality,” Joseph reminded them. “He and Scamp could be anywhere. We should not necessarily be worried.”

“Yes, they could be anywhere, including being eaten alive by blood-sucking demons!” Ph-Eros pointed out.

“Or fighting the Crimson Circle alone,” Aleta added. She turned to Joseph. “You don’t think – ”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Ph-Eros said. “He seemed pretty keen on the whole loner tough-guy shtick. We need to find them.”

“How?” Aleta asked.

“The Mysterious Stranger may – no, we have lost him, too,” Joseph recalled.

“No,” Aleta replied forcefully. “We didn’t ‘lose’ him – he walked out on us. Again.”

“Either way, we do not have him with us now, and despite our powers enabling us to adequately combat the vampires, we would not know where to begin our search for Scamp and Daywalker,” Joseph stated.

Daywalker perched on a narrow ledge overlooking the entrance to a skyscraper he knew only too well – although its uppermost floors were cloaked in cloud-cover, he knew that they were home to the surviving members of the Crimson Circle. So confident were they in their power that they posted only one guard at the entrance to their building. Daywalker knew he could defeat the one guard easily enough, but what then?

He decided that he would worry about that later. He leaped down onto the hard ground and charged the guard, who reacted slowly – much more slowly than any vampire Daywalker had previously encountered. As the vampire turned, Daywalker tightly gripped his single wooden stake and drove it through the vampire’s back; it pierced the monster’s heart and emerged, jagged and caked with thick red blood, through its chest. He pulled the stake back through the wound and ran quickly through the building’s doors.

Inside, he encountered no resistance. Not a single vampire could be seen as he raced up the tower’s central stairwell, moving rapidly past dozens of floors on his way to the top. He was tired, exhausted, but not at all paranoid. He knew the lack of resistance meant one of two things: that the Crimson Circle was so conceited, so hideously arrogant that they could not bear the presence of lesser vampires in their home; or, more likely, he was walking into a trap. He did not care. One way or another, today was going to be his last encounter with the Circle.

Finally, he stepped onto the building’s top floor and saw, surrounding a large, red, throbbing machine, the three surviving members of the Crimson Circle. They watched him but did not otherwise react to his arrival. He walked slowly towards them and stopped a few feet away from the machine.

“Welcome, Richard,” the Scarlet Witch said. “You know, of course, that we’ve been expecting you. There was no way you could resist coming for us once you destroyed Bloodstorm. But really, did you not stop to think it was impolite to bring along an uninvited guest?”

“What are you talking about?” Daywalker asked.

The Scarlet Witch stepped aside to reveal Scamp hanging from the ceiling via wrist shackles. Her face was bruised but, as always, her dark sunglasses remained solidly attached. She slowly turned her head and tried to look up at Daywalker, but the effort was too great.

“Scamp! But how…? The hotel – ?”

“It followed you,” the Scarlet Witch explained, “and I must say, Le Diable Blanc certainly enjoyed her capture.”

Daywalker turned his head slightly and saw Le Diable Blanc, the pale-skinned, red-eyed, brown trenchcoat-wearing man who once went by the name Remy LeBeau, licking his lips.

“You didn’t…!” Daywalker began.

“Yes, he did,” the Scarlet Witch replied. “She’s one of us now, Daywalker. You shouldn’t have gone and made a friend, should you? Because now, if you destroy us, destroy our plans? You destroy her, too.”

The Mysterious Stranger groaned as the only world he knew for his seconds of eternity began to break away and the smooth coolness of his floating island paradise re-appeared around him. The beautiful woman in white robes touched his naked body again, and his physical pain immediately vanished.

His head, however, was a different story. He could make no sense of the images constantly rushing past his mind’s eye, images that were far beyond his power to recognise. He staggered to his feet and, with what he thought was the last of his strength, managed an ancient, arcane gesture that caused his body to be bathed in a shimmering blue glow, to disappear, and re-appear within the safe confines of the hotel occupied by most of the other Exiles.

Ph-Eros was the first to notice the fading blue glow as Stephen Strange materialised in the hallway, just outside the room in which he stood. He alerted the others, and they rushed to fight Strange slowly transforming from the tall, fair-skinned Stephen Strange into the green-skinned, reptilian Doc Savage.

“Doctor!” Aleta cried. “What’s happened to – ?”

“Forget about that!” Ph-Eros interrupted. He rushed forward, placed his hand on the doctor’s body and whispered quietly, so no-one else could overhear. The doctor’s transformation stopped, and he returned to his normal body, and slowly extended one, shaking hand toward the gather Exiles. They were all bathed in the same blue glow they had encountered several times over the past few days and felt their bodies slowly fading away, only to re-appear abruptly behind Daywalker.

Aleta and Firefly staggered as they tried to get used to the aftereffects of teleportation, but Ph-Eros and Joseph seemed unaffected by the experience. Ph-Eros ran straight to Daywalker’s side and saw the Crimson Circle and the captive Scamp while Joseph ducked into the shadows in order to make sense of what was taking place.

Gambit! Joseph recognised Le Diable Blanc by another name. He’s an X-Man. What could-

Skkrtch.

He paused. He had heard a sound, like the scraping of metal on stone. He waited to see if he heard it again, but for a long time, there was no sound at all. Then, suddenly, from out of the darkness leapt a black beast with glowing, golden eyes, carrying a sword.

“Nachtgleiskette!” the Scarlet Witch shouted. “Down!”

The creature – Nachtgleiskette – paused mid-leap. As he fell toward the ground, his body was transformed into a puff of black smoke, accompanied by the smell of sulfur, which quickly vanished and re-appeared at the side of the Scarlet Witch.

“Nightcrawler!” Joseph cried. “Two X-Men!”

The Scarlet Witch smiled. “And I’m your daughter. Or at least the daughter of this dimension’s Magneto.”

Another person to call me Magneto, Joseph thought.

“Yes, Exiles. I know your secrets. Just as I know that Daywalker has a decision to make.”

Not much longer, Joseph decided privately. He slowly moved his fingers, and the metal shackles holding Scamp’s wrists opened, dropping her body to the ground. She scrambled slowly across the floor to her fellow Exiles, without any opposition from the Crimson Circle.

“Have her back,” the Scarlet Witch said. “For all the good it will do. She’s one of us, now.”

Joseph looked down at the girl’s neck and saw two puncture marks, just below her chin. Aleta, Firefly and Ph-Eros also rushed to examine her – so no-one noticed as Strange’s body began, once again, to shift and change into the larger form of Doc Savage.

“What will it be, Richard?” the Scarlet Witch asked. “You destroy the machine, you destroy me – and, in turn, all of the other vampires in this world. Including your friend.”

“Of course I won’t destroy it,” Daywalker said, as Doc Savage lumbered up behind him. “Or you. You’ve won.”

The Scarlet Witch smiled. “We could have crushed you with our sheer weight of numbers, of course. But it was far more satisfying to see you surr – what? NO!”

Doc Savage charged forward, heading straight from the Scarlet Witch, not caring who – or what – was in his path. Especially not the fragile, red machine that was the only thing standing between him and his target.

Ph-Eros was quick on his feet, but even as his hand brushed the Doctor’s back, and he whispered his secret words, nothing happened. Daywalker realised what was going to happen and tried to move between the behemoth and the machine – but even his strength was not enough to stop the oncoming beast. Doc Savage’s raging fists pushed through Daywalker as if he was nothing, and Daywalker’s body – no, his corpse – struck the machine with the full fury of Doc Savage’s massive strength.

The machine buckled as the familiar blue energy descended to surround the Exiles – the living Exiles, at least. As they faded from view, the machine split apart, its cogs and gears and mystic bindings scattering throughout the building.

The Crimson Circle members gagged and strained against the mystic forces that bombarded them from within. They were not, after all, true vampires; their state was created by Rhean’s mystical means, a sort of artificial, magickal replica of vampirism. Without the machine to maintain the spell, the ravages of a life half-lived rapidly destroyed their bodies, bodies that, had the spell never been cast, could never have survived on blood alone.

They did not fade to dust but collapsed to the ground, broken wrecks, their bodies nearly unrecognisable, dead beside Daywalker. At least, two of them did – Nachtgleiskette’s body was gone entirely.

NEXT ISSUE: Atlantis attacks!

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

MUSIC BLOG: DIG THE NEW BREED – MONDAY 1ST JUNE 2015

Radioactivity – I Know

Adult Mom – Survival

Shopping – In Other Words

Table Scraps – Electricity

FAN FICTION: GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #86 “KEEP AWAY” BY ADRIAN J. WATTS

Aboard the Captain America III

En route to the Ba-Banii-Bas system, the Captain America III was also home not just to its regular crew, the Guardians of the Galaxy, but also to many displaced aliens – the Snark Rommel, the Kree Kay-Den, and several refugees from the destroyed Kree homeworld of Hala. They were on the run for their very lives, opposed by the Kree Supreme Intelligence – the force that, for centuries, had led their race through many trials. They had had implicit trust in their ruler until he emerged with a new race to support him; the hyper-advanced – both technologically and biologically – Ruul.

But the Kree aboard the Captain America III were not the only ones to escape the destruction of their homeworld; three other refugee ships hid in the Ba-Banii-Bas star system, protected by their race’s one true hero – Gan-Vell, who now operated under the codename of Captain Marvel. The Ruul were on the hunt for all of the surviving Kree, however, and while the Guardians were able to delay the Ruul by leading them to Haven II, they knew the Ruul would not be put off forever.

A showdown was coming – but the Guardians wanted to make sure it was between themselves and the Ruul, and that the last of the Kree would survive.

The Pluvian Guardian, Martinex T’Naga, walked the length of the ship and sat beside Yondu in a corner far from any of the ship’s other occupants.

He looked his Centaurian friend in the eye before he spoke: “I don’t trust Kay-Den,” he said. “Or Rommel.”

“Agreed,” Yondu replied. “They know something that they are keeping from us, and we must find out what.”

“Do you think they would betray us to the Ruul?”

“I am uncertain.”

Martinex rubbed his crystalline chin as he considered his options… and there weren’t many. The Guardians had already lost their most powerful team member, Phoenix-IX, over a petty dispute*. They could not risk any more discord among their team or their allies by making unwarranted accusations. They needed to make sure they knew the truth – the whole truth – before making a judgement.

[ * – see GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #84 – Adrian ]

“We can’t go to Charlie,” Martinex said. “We both know what he has been like since taking command. He will rush in, without thinking… If only there were a way to learn the truth without Charlie-27 even knowing there was truth to be found out.”

Yondu opened his mouth to speak but stopped as he saw the Keeper – Norrin Radd, known for centuries as the Silver Surfer – approaching. The Keeper was only an honorary member of the Guardians but, after entering into direct opposition with the Intergalactic Council over the issue of the Ruul, he had had no option but to tag along with the team as they did what they could to help the Kree.

“Captain-27 has dispatched me to find a new home for the Kree,” the Keeper said. “Haven II will not be available for three days, if ever.”

“What? That’s insane!” Martinex shouted. “You are our most powerful member – and you wear the quantum-bands! Without you with us, we may as well surrender!”

The Keeper frowned. “Have more faith in your team, Martinex,” he said. “I have already found what I believe to be a viable world. I will return before you reach Ba-Banii-Bas.”

The Keeper walked away, and Martinex did not speak for several minutes. Eventually, he rose and marched to the cockpit of the ship, where he found the Jovian Charlie-27 and his Mercurian girlfriend, Nicholette Gold, manning the controls.

“Charlie…” he began.

“Can’t it wait, Marty? We’ve got to – ” Charlie-27 responded.

Can’t it wait? Martinex thought. “No, Charlie – it can’t wait!”

Martinex reached out and took the back of Charlie’s captain’s chair. He spun it around so that the Jovian was facing him. He glared at his team leader with all the anger and frustration he could muster. He was done being pushed aside.

“Be careful what you say, Marty,” Charlie-27 warned him. “Real careful.”

“No, ‘Captain’-27,” Martinex said. “I’m done taking your orders. I defended you to Phoenix-IX because I genuinely believed that what happened to Firelord and the Spirit of Vengeance was not your fault, but it could have been prevented! If you were any sort of leader–!”

“You think you can do better?”

“I seemed to do fine when I led the Galactic Guardians – the team you got half killed!”

Martinex regretted the words the moment they passed his lips. They were harsh words, angry words, words that did not truly come from his heart – but as Charlie’s massive fist made contact with his own crystalline face, the rage that built within him made him care less and less about what he had just said. Charlie-27 was wrong – and Martinex was going to prove it. With his fists.

Doomstadt, Latveria, Earth

The Doombot marched freely through the halls of Castle Doom, leading its human master downward, deep into the Earth, into a brightly-lit chamber lined with various computers and monitors… and thousands upon thousands of cables and wires, all connected to one central point – Mainframe.

Not ‘the’ Mainframe; just Mainframe. The synthezoid, known in the 20th century as the Vision, had become an integral part of the despotic ruler’s master plan. Doom knew that Mainframe had, once before, controlled an entire planet*, and he intended to expand upon that – for Mainframe’s systems to control not just the Earth, but far beyond.

[ * – Klaatu, most notably in GALACTIC GUARDIANS #1-4 – Adrian ]

The wires that extended from Mainframe’s red plastic body ran underground to installations all over the planet, some intended for military and defensive use, others to operate more mundane processes like transport. But everyone served an essential function in Doom’s plan, and at least so far, Mainframe was handling things admirably.

“My Doombots tell me the preparations are complete,” Doom said. “The remaining elements will go online within days.”

“Very well, Doom,” Mainframe replied. “My systems are operating at only 18% capacity. I foresee no issue in completing the tasks you have assigned to me.”

“Good,” Doom said. “Soon, Avenger, you may well be the centre of the universe itself.”

Hours later, in orbit over Avyos

The planet Avyos was not well-known to most of the space-faring races of the galaxy. Despite widespread exploration by the Shi’ar, Kree and Ruul, Avyos had gone undetected thanks to a lack of technological development – it was only in the past decade that it had, quite rapidly, even developed the most basic defences.

The Keeper knew the planet well, having sought the planet’s simplicity and solitude during his many years serving as a herald of the world-devouring Galactus. The world’s native species, the Avyans, had come to regard him almost as a deity over the centuries and were more than receptive to his plan to secure the Kree refugees there.

He knew that the planet’s basic defences were less than ideal for defending against the Ruul, but he also realised that he had few options. Once beyond the planet’s atmosphere he tapped the quantum-bands attached to his wrists and attempted to communicate with the Guardians’ ship, but received no response.

Could they have been discovered? he wondered. I cannot be certain, and risking the time it would take to quantum-jump to their intended location is unacceptable – and if the Ruul have found them, it will reveal my location as well!

He tapped the bands again and instead contacted the refugees already in hiding at Ba-Banii-Bas. Captain Marvel responded from the cockpit of the main refugee ship.

“Keeper?” he asked. “What’s happened? Why are you – ”

“Listen to me, young Kree,” the Keeper said. “I have temporarily lost contact with the Guardians of the Galaxy, but I have found a world on which the Kree can gain a brief respite. I am transmitting the coordinates to you now.” He paused as the data passed across the quantum-stream to Gan-Vell’s location. “If the Guardians do not arrive as planned, head directly to that location, and I will meet you there.”

If I can, he thought privately. He ended his communication with Gan-Vell and created a quantum-warp back to the Guardians’ ship, hoping that he liked what he found there.

The Keeper found himself pulled from his quantum-warp but an irresistible force. The sensation of being pulled out of quantum-space was almost unbearable to him, but he struggled through it and, finally, emerged in orbit around a green planet. A rapidly-moving green planet.

At first, he could not detect what had attracted him and then, sitting on the planet’s surface, he saw a small device. Despite his best efforts at resistance, it drew him closer and closer, until he was standing on the surface of the strange globe. He pulled him down even further, encouraging him to lay flat the green ground.

As his face touched the ground, dark green tendrils reached out from beneath his body and wrapped themselves around him, dragging him down further and further until he was completely buried. He could not move, could hardly breathe, and had no way of freeing himself.

All the while, Ego, the Living Planet, moved on…

The Captain America III

Martinex raised his right fist and blasted Charlie-27 with a freezing ice-blast. The Jovian staggered back, then charged forward and rammed the Pluvian hard against the ship’s bulkhead. Martinex felt his bones bend – and, in some cases, break – under the pressure, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious from the pain.

“Yeah, you want to take me on now?” Charlie-27 gloated. “Yondu, take him to the med-bay.”

Charlie returned to the ship’s controls, but Nikki stopped him before he could take control.

“Chunky…” she said. “What’s going on with you? Why did you do that?”

“He’s been asking for it, Firehair,” Charlie said. “You’ve seen what he’s been like.”

“No, Charlie… I haven’t. I’ve seen what you have been like.”

Charlie-27 didn’t speak. He turned the Captain America III back on course towards the Ba-Banii-Bas star system and tried to ignore Nikki’s silence – which was much more difficult than ignoring her talking.

The Ba-Banii-Bas Star System

The four Ruul warships, led by the massive worldship carrying Valaar the Accuser, deactivated their cloaking field when they were too close for the Kree refugees to have any hope of remaining undetected – but they did not fire; at least not immediately.

The larger, more well-equipped ships moved into position around the small fleet of refugee’s vessels, blocking them in with no hope of escape. Aboard the worldship, Valaar – the most powerful among the Ruul, second only to the Supreme Intelligence himself – smiled, displaying razor-like teeth that terrorised even the other Ruul under his command.

He approached a small communications device and spoke into it, knowing that, by design, it would relay his words into the refugee ships whether the Kree chose to hear what he had to say or not. He did not think carefully about the words he chose – he was there to show them fear, to torment them before utterly destroying them.

“Kree – ”

The Kree only heard Valaar’s first word. There was no flaw in the communications system; he had simply stopped speaking. A woman, standing behind him, had caught her attention – not for the first time. She had blue skin and unique, feline-like features. Her body was hidden by a dark cloak, and as she put her hand on Valaar’s arm, his rage – and excitement – increased dramatically.

“Take your hand off me, woman,” he said. “I am an Accuser of the Ruul. I will not allow myself to be – ”

“Think carefully, Valaar,” the woman said. “I have asked you before: do you want to do this?*”

[ * – in GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #81 – Adrian ]

“I have answered you. I only want what’s best for the Ruul. The Supreme Intelligence assures us that for the Ruul to thrive, the Kree must be destroyed,” Valaar told her. “Now take. Your hand. Off me.”

The woman removed her hand and took a step back, but she was not done yet. “How does tormenting the Kree help the Ruul?”

“You are trying my patience,” Valaar said – but the woman was right. Valaar could not understand why the Supreme Intelligence insisted he be so cruel in his pursuit of the Kree. He needed them eradicated – that Valaar could understand and accept. But to terrify them? That hardly seemed necessary.

“Very well,” Valaar finally conceded. “Armsmen, prepare your weapons. Destroy the Kree ships.”

The Armsmen prepared their weapons and began to fire – but nothing happened. Stunned, Valaar approached a monitor that showed him what was going on outside, and what he saw astounded him. One man, in a pale blue bodysuit, with dark rings around his eyes and yellow bands extending from his shoulders to his back, hovered in space, his hands outstretched, disabling the weapons systems of the Ruul vessels.

Captain Marvel!

Gan-Vell heard the voice inside his head as he braced for weapons impact. He did not know where it came from or what it meant, and his first instinct was to stand back and prepare for combat.

Captain Marvel! the voice repeated. My name is Starhawk; you need to leave. Now! Go to the coordinates given to you by the Keeper. You cannot wait for the Guardians!

How can I trust you? Gan-Vell thought.

I am the one keeping the Ruul from destroying you. I cannot hold them back much longer. Go! Now!

Starhawk exerted one last effort and managed to repel each of the Ruul ships several kilometers, giving Gan-Vell the time he needed to power up the Kree vessels and move out. They entered hyperspace and were soon beyond the range of the Ruul scanners – as was Starhawk, who, as far as the Ruul could tell, had simply vanished.

Later, aboard the Ruul worldship

“Thank you, Cat-Lass.”

The feline-like woman sat patiently in her own quarters, waiting for the visual aspect of Starhawk’s psychic projection to appear before her. She had risked a great deal pretending to ally herself with the Ruul and the Supreme Intelligence on Starhawk’s behalf, and after the day’s events, during which her attempts to stall Valaar had come close to placing her in real jeopardy, she needed to know what Starhawk’s plans were.

His projection was invisible to the Ruul sensors as, in many ways, it was not really there – he simply triggered aspects of the woman’s own mind so that she could see and hear what was not there to be seen or heard.

You are welcome, my beloved, she replied. But what now?

“The Guardians will come to Ba-Banii-Bas too late. I need to find a way to inform them of the Kree’s location.”

And what of your other plan?

“It remains on schedule – thanks to you.”

And I live thanks to you. As a Kree mutant –

“Do not finish that sentence. I have made my feelings very clear on that matter.”

I am sorry.

“Do not be sorry. Be prepared. The hardest part is yet to come.”

NEXT ISSUE: The Kree settle into their new home as the Guardians hear from Haven II – but will Rancor bring them good news? More on Starhawk’s plan… and Valaar makes an unexpected move!

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

MUSIC BLOG: DIG THE NEW BREED – SUNDAY 31ST MAY 2015

Lady Bones – Botch

Girlpool – Cherry Picking

Ratboys – Femme Fatale (The Velvet Underground Cover)

Kyle Cox – Sympathy For The Devil (Rolling Stones Cover)

MUSIC BLOG: DIG THE NEW BREED – SATURDAY 30TH MAY 2015

Public Likes Pills – Crash

Suzerain – What Happened

Dead Stars – Calm Punk

Pixies – Greens And Blues