Lisa Knight's Blog, page 16

POETRY: MY DANCING HURT MY BABY BY PAUL TRISTRAM

“What’s up with the fella in Cell 1, should I be laughing?

He’s crying really loud whilst rhythmically banging?”

“Oh him, he’s just in here until the drugs wear off,

for his own safety, it’s his Wedding Night, poor Bastard,

he’s never taken drugs before (Apparently?)

and one of his clever friends thought it would be funny

to spike him with a couple of ‘White Russians’ Ecstasy pills.

He’s broken three of his New Wife’s toes and sprained

both her wrists with aggressive ‘John Revolting’ dancing.

Kicked his Father and Mother-In-Law and the Best Man,

again not intentionally but because he won’t stop grooving.

It’s a pitiful sight, he’s in there now sobbing and weeping

that he loves them all and he’s so very sorry whilst bopping

and jiving with the back of the cell door, he’s smoking hot!”

Written by Paul Tristram

Available to buy via Lulu

POETRY: BEER BOTTLE BOTTOMS BY PAUL TRISTRAM

Round as two halves of a beer bottle bottom

cwtching each other tightly again

after the tumble, crack and fall.

A slight sliver missing…here and there

and a deep, dark, bold scar which shows

that they were tested, their strength endured

and was meant to last against the Law of Sod.

Every single stumble and rise has meaning,

just like every bump, break and bruise.

It shows that you have lived and survived

another daily beating from life’s many storms.

Written by Paul Tristram

Available to buy via Lulu

FAN FICTION: EXILES #6 – REVELATIONS (“DARK DESIGNS”) PT.2 BY ADRIAN J.WATTS

Aleta showed Joseph the hotel room into which she and Firefly had materialised. When they entered the room, they saw that the boy had fallen asleep, sprawled out on one of the two beds that occupied the room.

She picked up Spratt’s orb, which she had dropped carelessly onto the floor when she heard Joseph’s pained cry for help. She looked at it for a moment before finally asking the question that had been on her mind since she had rescued Joseph from the street below:

“What is a vampire?”

Joseph looked solemn as he paced to the window. He used his mastery of magnetism to take hold of the metal fragments in the window frame and pulled it shut before looking back at Aleta.

“A vampire,” he began slowly, “is the body of a dead man, animated by the soul of a demon. They fear the sunlight, for it scorches their skin and causes them great agony. They do not need food, water, or air – they feed on the blood of the living. They can be killed only by decapitation, prolonged exposure to sunlight, or by a wooden stake through the heart.”

“That explains why they were afraid of my lumen pulses,” Aleta said, “but how do you know about them?”

“Vampires often appear in Transian folklore. I have studied it at length, although, until today, I did not believe it.” Joseph looked down at himself and saw that he was still covered in the fetid slime that he had slogged through in the sewer. “Do you know what it is that we are to do here?”

“Negative,” Aleta said. “I have not yet been enlightened by our mysterious benefactor – but he did say I would not hear from him again.”

“In that case, I am going to find a bathroom and clean myself up. I suggest that we then find our companions and decide on a course of action.”

“Agreed,” Aleta said. Joseph walked out of the room and headed down the hall, and Aleta wondered why there had not been any vampires in the hotel. She and Joseph had examined it thoroughly before returning to the room, and there was no living creature in the entire complex – and yet every room had been cleaned recently and the kitchen was fully stocked with food.

Aleta glanced at herself in the mirror and saw how terrible she looked. The left shoulder of her uniform was torn, exposing the flesh beneath. Her hair was filthy, with particles of dust from the Exiles’ encounter with Dragon’s Claws combining with her sweat to cover her hair with a thick layer of grime. She had bags under her eyes, caused by exhaustion, and a small area around her right hip felt very tender.

She stepped toward one of the bedside tables and placed Spratt’s ball gently inside its drawer. She took yet another look at Firefly and then sat on the other bed when she felt a familiar soothing feeling fill her body.

“Aleta.”

“You said I wouldn’t hear from you again!” Aleta shrieked, jumping to her feet.

“Look.”

Aleta looked all around the room, and as her eyes passed the mirror, she saw the reflection of a dim blue glow emanating from the table in which she had placed the ball. On the bed beside it, Firefly had woken up and was opening the drawer.

The soothing feeling left her body as Firefly’s delicate hand withdrew the orb. He stared at it in wonder, and Aleta stepped toward it.

“Are you okay?!” Aleta heard Joseph’s gruff voice behind her. She spun quickly and saw the white-haired mutant standing in the doorway. Water ran down his half-naked body, but the upper half of his uniform was tied around his waist, concealing his manhood. A dark red ellipse adorned the side of his torso.

“We are fine,” Aleta replied. “What happened to your ribs?”

Joseph frowned. “I slipped while rushing to your aid.”

Aleta turned away to conceal a smirk. In Firefly’s hands the orb still glowed, and Aleta took it from him. As soon as she touched it, pain wracked her body as control over it was taken away from her entirely. Golden solid light objects filled the room, and Aleta spoke in a calm voice that was not her own.

“This is your task,” her voice intoned. “This world is entirely wrapped in evil. Three figures command this evil.” Her hand moved, and three solid light constructs grew brighter as all others dimmed. “Their power is great. They must be met if One is to be freed.”

Another gesture and the three constructs receded as seven indistinct figures became more prominent. They flickered in and out of existence until seven shapeless lumps grew more brightly than any of the constructs seen before, and the one in the center slowly faded away.

Aleta’s body slumped to the ground, and all of the constructs dissipated. The orb rolled to Firefly’s feet, and the young boy grasped the now dull object and placed it in the drawer once again. He slammed it shut and joined Joseph at Aleta’s side.

Joseph felt her heartbeat. It was faint, but she was still breathing. He roused her gently, and after her eyelids had fluttered, for a moment, they opened completely and she bolted upright. She pushed Joseph roughly away and ran from the room.

A man floated across the city.

He was a tall man, but not exceptionally so. He wore no clothes and possessed very little body hair, but despite the freezing rain he did not shiver.

He gained speed as he moved, and as he gained speed he gained altitude. He blew through the thick clouds that blanketed the city and emerged into the darkness that lay beyond.

He slowed as the air became thinner, but still he continued forward, seemingly oblivious to everything around him: the tops of the clouds, the dim stars above, and flashes of lightning that offered brief periods of illumination to the otherwise pitch black sky.

He continued onward, and in the distance appeared a bright spark. As the man drew ever closer, the spark grew both brighter and larger until the man finally touched down on its perfectly smooth surface.

The man was on a floating island. From the ground, it appeared to be just any of the other dark clouds that enshrouded the world. From above, it appeared to be a bright spark of hope in an otherwise hopeless universe.

Everything was smooth on the island, as though made of glass and ice and twice as reflective. The plant grew all around, each emitting light of a different colour and creating rainbow spectrums that played across the ground.

At the center of the island was a small, round building. At many points on the building’s outer wall were images, but when the man tried to focus on any one of them it changed into something that he could not recognise but which nonetheless filled him with a sense of rapture.

The man entered the building and was met by an indistinct nothingness. It was not bright, nor was it dark. There was no ground, nor was there a sky, but it did not matter, for there was no gravity to give meaning to such things.

The man took one step and found that he had walked a mile. He took a breath and felt as though all of the mighty winds of the north had filled his lungs. He exhaled and became so light that his body began to drift in the ethereal emptiness without any prompting from its master.

After minutes that could have easily been seconds or years, the man was joined by another. His companion bore the form of a woman, draped in white robes from her shoulders down to her feet. Her long, light hair draped over her shoulders and chest, and a beautiful golden tiara sat atop her head.

She extended a long-fingered hand to the man, and he bowed to kiss it. As his lips touched the soft, delicate skin of the woman’s hand, he again felt overjoyed by everything that was in that place.

“You know who I am.”

The woman’s remark was not a question. It had been eons since the woman had even considered a question, let alone asked one. It had been just as long since her last encounter with another living being.

The man said nothing in reply – he merely watched, rapt, as the woman danced around him, turning the nothingness into a solid image that the man recognised as his own sanctum, where he had spent years of his life trying to free himself from the accursed monster that lived within him.

“This is as much your place as it is mine, Stephen,” the woman smiled. It was a beautiful smile, even without the woman showing the beautiful teeth that the man knew must be there. The man felt ecstatic as the woman called him by name.

“You have come here willingly and consciously, and so it must be that you consider yourself ready. Relax, Stephen Strange, for soon you will know.”

“You’re home?” Scamp asked as her tears began to subside. “How long have you known?!”

Daywalker exhaled heavily. He had wanted to keep the fact that the dark world that the Exiles now inhabited was his home a secret, but he should have known that that would be impossible.

“I can see why you’d prefer this hellhole to the wonderful eighty-second-century desert,” Ph-Eros interposed sardonically. “It has its charms; I’m sure.”

“Shut up!” Daywalker yelled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’ve lived here my whole life. Do you think I’m proud of this place? No. But I have a duty. Less than ten percent of this world’s population is not a vampire, and I am the only one that can save them!”

“There’s that word again. What is a vampire, Daisy?” The tone of Ph-Eros’ voice was not a pleasant one. Daywalker felt as though the other Exiles was condemning him, accusing him of something horrible.

“A vampire is a demonic entity that inhabits the corpses of the dead, corrupting their souls and turning them evil. They need the blood of the living to survive, and exposure to sunlight causes them more pain than they can bear,” Daywalker explained.

“H-how did ever’one become a vampire?” Scamp asked timidly.

“Magic,” Daywalker said softly, “but it was also the magic that protected me. When I was only a baby, a woman named Rhean, a vampire, spread her curse to thousands of men across Europe. They crossed the oceans, creating more and more vampires as they went, but always keeping them a secret.

“Finally some super people found out about them and went on the offensive, but it was too late. Rhean had too many under her control, and she was ready. She cast a spell of great power, augmented by a machine that was intended to turn every man, woman, and child on the planet into one of the undead.

“Only those that were under the protection of the heroes survived. A woman named Wanda Maximoff protected me and half-a-dozen others using her magic, shielding our hotel with a spell that not even she could undo. My parents were turned, though, and they eventually turned her.”

“Wanda…?” Scamp sounded as though she was going to cry again. Like Ororo Monroe, Wanda Maximoff – the Scarlet Witch – had been around for most of Scamp’s childhood. Imagining her as a vampire was almost too much to bear.

“There are two safe houses in this city. My apartment and the hotel where I was protected from Rhean’s spell. The hotel is closer, and there is food there. I suggest we rest and then try to find the others.”

“Is this Rhean still alive?” Ph-Eros asked.

“No,” Daywalker said solemnly. “I killed her. Now let’s go.”

Aleta sobbed, loudly, as she sat on the cold linoleum floor of the hotel kitchen. Her head was nestled between her knees, and her hands were folded behind her neck.

I cannot do this! she thought. I had to fight so hard to overcome my problems with being only a half-entity, after being forced to share a body with my adopted brother Stakar for so long*. When the Hawk God finally separated us, I relished my freedom. Now, I am a slave to whoever it is that is pulling our strings… I need to put a stop to it.

[ * – Aleta and her brother Stakar together formed the composite being Starhawk for most of the time that they were with the Guardians of the Galaxy ]

Behind her was a door that led straight out onto the street and had been used to unload supplies from trucks when the hotel was still active. Aleta heard it slowly open, and she snapped her head up to see who it was.

Daywalker, Ph-Eros and Scamp, entered in single file, each taking on a surprised look as they saw Aleta on the ground before them. They didn’t say anything, and it didn’t take the one-who-knows to know that something had happened to them. Aleta didn’t care, though, and she let them walk off without interruption as she returned to crying her heart out.

Vance…

She wanted her fiance to be there more than anything but knew she had no way of letting him know that she wasn’t dead.

He’s probably moved on by now, she thought sadly. After all, I did betray him with Kristoff. But I need to know, and if the only way to get back to my own time is to do what our master wants, then that is what I’ll have to do.

Come on, you monster. Enlighten me.

Daywalker showed Scamp and Ph-Eros each to a room before setting off to find Joseph and Firefly. He felt incredibly guilty about the fact that he cared less about their well-being and more about the fact that if anything happened to them while in his reality, he would feel responsible.

He found Joseph and Firefly, both asleep in one of the hotel’s more sparsely furnished rooms. He decided to let them rest and stepped back into the hallway where he came face-to-face with Aleta, Scamp, and Ph-Eros.

“Let’s save this world,” Aleta said decisively. Daywalker smiled.

Joseph and Firefly were roused, and the Exiles gathered to hear Daywalker’s plan, such as it was. Food was brought, and after Aleta had told the others what had happened with Spratt’s orb, Daywalker rose to explain things with more clarity.

“The three figures are called The Crimson Circle. Up until recently, there were four members of the Circle – Nachtgleiskette, The Scarlet Witch, Le Diable Blanc, and Bloodstorm,” he explained. “We ran into Bloodstorm tonight and killed her, and it was there that I got this.”

He indicated the burn on his stomach, which was still far from healed. “It was Bloodstorm who, through the use of her elemental powers, created the blanket of clouds that covers this world in constant darkness. Her death won’t fix things, though.

“All of the Circle’s actions are augmented by a device here in New Orleans. Once the device is used to augment one of the members’ powers, it can recreate the same effect as much as it wants. The only way to remove the clouds now is to destroy the machine.

“As the head of the Circle, it is the Scarlet Witch – the woman who saved me from becoming a vampire – who commands all of the undead on the planet. Whenever they feed on the living, her power increases, and as her power increases, so does the strength of each of the other vampires.

“Most of the vampires here were not created through normal means. Normal human blood cannot sustain the demonic spirit that inhabits the hosts. When they feed, the blood is transmuted. Rhean cast a spell to turn the world’s population into vampires, but she left herself a backdoor, so that is she ever turned into a human again, so would her evil army. The spell simply transmuted the blood of every human into the same blood as that of the head of the Circle.

“If the head of the Circle possessed human blood, so would everyone that was affected by the spell, and the demon spirits would be forced out of the hosts. I think we need to find a way to do that.”

“I agree,” Aleta said, “but I don’t think we’ll come up with anything until we’ve all rested. Daywalker, you said the hotel is safe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s sleep on it.”

Daywalker showed each of the Exiles to individual rooms before retiring to his own. It was a large luxury suite, with a king-size bed, a spa, television, and it was the only room other than the kitchen with electricity.

He sat on the end of the bed and removed the top of his uniform, wincing as the fabric rubbed against his burn. He touched the tender spot gently, and as pain shot up through his torso he thanked God that he was still alive after Bloodstorm’s attack.

He removed his boots, and as he was about to put them under his bed he heard someone open the door. He looked up and saw Scamp standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright lights of the hall.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Scamp said.

“Are you okay?”

Scamp entered the room and sat beside him on the bed. She saw the television at the foot of the bed and said “Ah didn’t think vampires would be big fans o’ TV.”

“You’d be surprised,” Daywalker said. “There haven’t been any new television shows since Rhean cast her spell, but they still play re-runs of old shows. I don’t think vampires can be on TV, because of the whole ‘no reflection’ problem.”

“Oh,” Scamp looked down at her feet.

“Did you want something in particular?” Daywalker looked at the side of Scamp’s head, and finally reached forward to remove her dark glasses. Behind them were two beautiful brown eyes, which he saw when Scamp looked at him directly.

“You’ve changed,” she said finally.

“Is that good or bad?” Daywalker grinned.

“It’s good. When we first met, you were real nasty, ‘specially to Ph-Eros. But since we came here you’ve really opened up.”

Daywalker blushed. “I guess I just didn’t know how to act around other people. When we all got taken to that deserted planet, I just kept worrying about my world, thinking that the Crimson Circle would find some way to transform the last humans while I was gone. I was scared, and I’ve been alone for so long that I think I forgot how to rely on other people for support.”

“I like you better, now,” Scamp said. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” he smiled and put on Scamp’s sunglasses. “Blade, Richard Blade.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s from a movie,” he said as he removed the glasses. “My friends call me Rick. What’s your name?”

“Carol,” Scamp replied quickly. “How old are you, Rick?”

Daywalker could tell that Scamp wasn’t comfortable answering any questions, so he filed them all away for another time and wondered if it was in any way connected to why she always wore dark sunglasses. He handed them back to her, and she hastily put them back on.

“I’m eighteen.”

“Ah’m… twenty,” Daywalker could see how hard it was for her to tell him her age, and he started to wonder why she was asking him so many questions. “Have you ever…” She leaned toward him and pressed herself against his arm. “Have you ever… y’know…”

Daywalker suddenly realised what Scamp was asking and pulled away. “No, I haven’t.”

“Do you – ”

“No.”

“Okay.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before Scamp rose and left the room. Daywalker laid back on his bed, his arms and legs outstretched, wondering why he hadn’t taken Scamp up on her offer.

He started to get up, to see if he could catch her in the hallway, when his door swung open again. It was Scamp, and she strode purposefully over to him, took him in her arms, and kissed him.

“Whoa…” Daywalker said.

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: BLACKFRIARS BESTIARY 2.1 – ASHLEY STRANGE BY JACOB MILNESTEIN

“You’ll never guess what my surname is!” she declares, her eyes wide, her voice accented by that familiar Essex clip, painfully reminiscent of aunts and uncles and the bitter, hairdresser mother of your former girlfriend.

“It’s Strange!” she continues, and you try not to, but you smile anyway, “Ashley Strange!”

A frown crosses her face, the stitches drawn with lipstick on her cheek smudged and worn by the night’s festivities.

“But I’m not strange, you know!”

It is impossible not to smile, impossible not to warm to her as she stands there with the crowded bus stop at her back, the 205 bus ugly and packed with those escaping their Friday night in the city, costumed and garish each one.

“Actually, people say I’m a bit psychic, you know,” she continues, cigarette smoke a halo above her, “and I think, I mean, I know, I just know you’re going to be really famous. You’re just so nice.”

She gestures with her cigarette, hazel eyes gleaming, her smile impossibly friendly.

“You’re going to be like, who’s that woman that wrote Harry Potter?”

You smile, slightly abashed, slightly bemused.

“J.K. Rowling.”

She nods enthusiastically.

“That’s her! You’re going to be bigger than her, I can tell. I know these things.”

What must it be to have something to believe in, you wonder, to have a framework which you believe the universe must unshakably abide by?

What must it be like to be Leibniz, to believe that we all inhabit the best of all possible worlds?

The thought touches a spark of sadness within you, for if Leibniz believed this was the best of all possible worlds, then truly you have undertaken to make yourself the worst of all possible versions of yourself.

DO YOU WANT TO READ MORE? YOU CAN! Download for FREE at Smashwords

BIO: Upon scorched soil, a life-pod from an alternate universe is uncovered by Politruk Blinov. Inside, there is a man—a captain of sorts—bringing with him an ominous message that could sway the very future of the All-Union.

Meanwhile, another dimension away, Ayesha Swanson, freelance magician for the United Kingdom Xenobiology Division, finds herself embroiled in a plot to rob her of her magic—a plot that may lead her to ultimately discovering her true heritage!

Set within the Love Amongst Strangers universe, the new volume of our anthology series, Blackfriars Bestiary weighs in with nine unique stories, each detailing a unique corner of the vast series universe and featuring a diverse array of characters. Featuring authors such as Jack Buxton (Love Amongst Strangers: The Other Side), Bryn Fortey (Merry-Go-Round and Other Words), Joseph W. Patterson (Psychopomp), Jason S. Kenney (Love Amongst Strangers: Twisted) and Artifice Comics legends, Ed Ainsworth and Matthew James Pierce, Blackfriars Bestiary 2.1 serves as your jumping on point for the adventures of Ayesha Swanson and Mister Mo and the world in which they live.

Recommended for fans of Doctor Who, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and John Constantine, Hellblazer, Blackfriars Bestiary is your first port of call for all things action and supernatural!

FAN FICTION: GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY #85 “HOMELESS” BY ADRIAN J. WATTS

Doomstadt, Latveria, Earth

Doctor Doom sat patiently in front of the vidscreen in his tremendous throne room, watching the latest Infonet broadcast. He was uncannily aware of what went on in every corner of the galaxy and most of the neighbouring galaxies, despite being relatively confined to Earth. Still, it was useful to keep an eye on the Infonet to know what half-truths were being fed to the galactic public.

“… Hala destroyed by what some believe to be a variant of the old Kree Nega-Bombs. The Guardians of the Galaxy were seen leaving the Pama system seconds after the explosion, and the Intergalactic Council is hoping to speak with them in an attempt to determine what happened in Hala’s final hours.

“This has just come in: The Guardians of the Galaxy have attacked the Intergalactic Council chambers on Chamber-World, in order to oust the council’s interim leader, the Supreme Intelligence of the Kree. No information has yet been given as to what measures the council will employ to deal with the Guardians but rest assured that Infonet will keep you posted as things develop.

“In other news, two – ”

Doom sighed as he switched off the vidscreen. He had, of course, learned very little from the Infonet broadcast. However, he had only learnt a few hours earlier that the Intelligence Supreme had taken control of the council. This troubled him somewhat. If the Kree had been wiped out, the Intelligence would be angry. When the Intelligence was angry, wars happened. Not just little skirmishes on the borders of two states that nobody cared about, but full blown trans-galactic conflicts in which it would be uncommon for less than ten million sentient beings to be dragged screaming to the gates of whatever they considered Hell.

He rose from his throne and crossed the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not want to be involved in a full-scale war this soon. It did not fit into his master plan. The Guardians of the Galaxy will have to hold off the Intelligence, he thought. I have work to do.

He pressed a button concealed within his grey breastplate, and the loud, tinny voice of one his Doombots came through clearly.

“Proceed,” Doom said into his comm unit, and until he released the button the Doombot could be heard trundling off in something of a hurry.

In orbit around Haven-II

Valaar the Accuser walked down one of the myriad corridors that connected the thousands of chambers inside the Ruul worldship. The other Ruul that he passed, be they soldiers, scientists, priests, politicians or regular citizens all regarded him with an awe that irritated him more than it flattered him. He was revered by almost every member of the Ruul race, and this reverence meant that there were few with whom he could strike up an informal conversation.

Few Ruul, that is.

Valaar arrived at the end of one corridor and slid his hand over a small security plate. The plate emitted a blue glow, indicating that Valaar had sufficient authority to enter the room at the end of the corridor. It’s two metal doors slid open, and the Accuser entered the darkness on the other side, the doors closing behind him.

The room in which he now stood was pitch black; this did not bother Valaar at all. He was, after all, the Accuser – the greatest of all Ruul. He possessed greater eyesight than most of his race, and he could still make out the shapes of the items that occupied all of the living quarters aboard the ship – a low table, a high-backed chair, and a bed that could fold up and be attached to the wall in a vertical position.

“What do you want?” he heard the voice of a female from somewhere in the darkness.

“What are you doing on board my ship?” Valaar inquired of the darkness. “Lights on.”

The room was suddenly lit by lights from myriad sources. Valaar looked around but was not at all surprised that he didn’t see anyone. The woman who occupied the room was skilled at many things, and he would not have been surprised is she suddenly turned into Eternity and willed the universe to an early end.

“I do not need to answer to you, Accuser.”

“Very well,” Valaar said calmly. “I am here to inform you that everything is ready, just as you asked.”

He turned to leave but saw that the door was now blocked by a tall humanoid woman. She had light blue skin and blue hair and wore a long flowing grey robe.

“Thank you,” she said as she stepped aside to let him leave. Valaar looked intently at the woman for a moment, but then a smile crossed his face, and he left the living quarters, smiling mischievously.

Aboard the Captain America III

The crystalline form of Martinex T’Naga, the last survivor of Earth’s Pluto colony, sat beside the main medical unit inside the medical bay of the Captain America III. On top of the unit was the unconscious body of Kay-Den, who had up until recently been the Kree ambassador to the Intergalactic Council.

Martinex listened to the steady, shrill beeping of the various monitors that were focused on Kay-Den, assuring him that the Kree’s cuts and bruises were still being tended to. He found the role of the nurse to be very dull, but the chance to be away from the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy also made him feel relieved. There had been a lot of tension over the last few weeks, finally resulting in the departure of the man who was perhaps the group’s most powerful member: Phoenix-IX*.

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

I still stand by Charlie, Martinex thought. There was nothing that he could have done to help Firelord and the Spirit of Vengeance. There was nothing any of us could have done for them. But that doesn’t make me feel any better…

Martinex was disturbed by one of the scanners, which had begun to beep more quickly. It was only a slight, subtle change, but it was still a change. Martinex rose and examined the comatose Kree but could see no sign of improvement, and the scanner began to beep at its original pace once again. Before Martinex returned to his seat, the green reptilian High Snark Rommel entered the medical bay and looked down at Kay-Den.

“I ssaw you rise,” Rommel explained as he turned to look at Martinex. “Hasss there been any improvement?”

“There appeared to be, for a moment.”

Rommel nodded gravely. “How do you rate hisss chancess?”

“He will recover,” Martinex explained. “These machines can fully heal any non-fatal injuries. It will just take time.”

“Pleasse let me know when he isss up again,” Rommel asked before turning and leaving the room.

Martinex decided that he had spent enough time by Kay-Den’s side, and he wanted to see what else was happening on board the ship. He shuffled out of the medical bay and approached the cockpit, where Nicholette had taken his place in the co-pilot’s seat. She and Captain-27 were talking, and he caught their conversation as he stepped into the cockpit.

“… the rendezvous in about five minutes,” Nicholette said. “All three ships are safe.”

Martinex smiled. Captain-27’s plan had been a good one. He had shouted, while in the Ruul-led Intergalactic Council chambers, that the Kree refugees would be sent to Haven. He knew that the Supreme Intelligence would send forces to intercept them there, and instead told Captain Marvel, who was with the Kree, to meet at a rendezvous point nowhere near Haven.

“Martinex!”

At the sound of Rommel’s hissing cry, Martinex sprinted back to the medical bay to see what had happened. When he re-entered the room, he saw that Yondu had beaten him there.

“Look!” Rommel said.

Martinex saw that Kay-Den was convulsing violently. After gesturing towards Yondu, to hold down the Kree dignitary, he injected him with a muscle relaxant that, after a few moments, stopped the convulsions. The Kree sat upright and shook his head before looking down at the rest of his body.

“Where – ?” he asked, bewildered.

“You’re on board the Captain America III, Ambassador,” Martinex explained. “We had to evacuate you from the council chambers on Chamber-World. Do you remember that?”

Kay-Den nodded slowly.

“When we got you aboard the ship, you said ‘It has begun’. What has begun, Kay-Den?”

“I – ” Kay-Den stammered. He looked from Rommel to Martinex, and then back to Rommel before continuing. “The Kree had long feared that the Supreme Intelligence would return and attempt to destroy us. I had even mentioned this to the Council, before the Supremor’s arrival. I was simply saying that the destruction of the Kree race had begun.”

Martinex looked to Rommel for confirmation; the Snark did not disagree, but both Martinex and Yondu noticed a frown cross his face for the briefest of moments.

“Kay-Den speakss the truth,” Rommel said finally.

Martinex had his doubts but decided that that was not the time to argue. “We are about to rendezvous with the surviving Kree,” he announced. “We’ll decide a course of action then. Kay-Den, Rommel, if either of you remember anything else that you think the Guardians should know – ”

“We will tell you,” Kay-Den said.

The Ba-Banii-Bas System

The Captain America III arrived several minutes after the Kree refugee ships had settled on one of the moons in the lifeless Ba-Banii-Bas star system. Of all the systems in which the Guardians were sure that they would not encounter the Ruul, the Ba-Banii-Bas system was the one from which they were most likely to be able to contact Earth, Haven, or any other friendly world.

Once the ship had touched down on the moon’s surface, the starry face of Gan-Vell appeared on its communication screen. “Guardians… we are exceptionally low on supplies and fuel. If we don’t settle somewhere soon, we won’t make it.”

“Calm down, Gan-Vell,” Nicholette said. “As soon as the channel is clear, we’re going to contact Earth and see if we can relocate you there. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I… fine. I’ll clear the channel.” Gan-Vell’s head disappeared from the communication screen with a bleep, and Martinex entered the cockpit to help Nicholette get in touch with Earth. He leaned over Nicholette’s shoulder and pressed several buttons, and suddenly the masked face of Doctor Doom appeared on the screen between Captain-27 and Nikki.

“What?” Doom snapped. “I have little time for your foolishness, Guardians.”

Nikki turned red and prepared to say something, but Captain-27 raised his hand slightly, silencing her. “We’re seeking sanctuary on Earth.”

“For the Kree? No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?!?” Nikki shouted. “After everything we did for you, you – ”

“I have dealt with the Supreme Intelligence in the past, Mercurian, and do not wish to incur his wrath again. I will not cross him today.” Doom’s emphasis on the final word in his speech was only slight, but all three of the Guardians in the cockpit picked up on it. “You will need to look elsewhere.” Doom’s visage disappeared from the monitor.

“He’s up to something,” Nikki said. “Where else can we seek a haven for the Kree?”

“You said it, Nik,” Captain-27 grinned.

“No!” Martinex cried. “The Supremor will have undoubtedly sent forces to Haven already. If we attempt to go anywhere near the planet, we will be destroyed!”

“Martinex, you’re not thinking. Sure, the big green guy may have sent a whole fleet of starships there by now, but when he realised that we duped him, he will have sent them out searching for us. Haven is the last place the Ruul would look now.”

“That is the most faulty logic I have ever heard.”

“Really? Well, guess what? I’m the leader, Martinex, and I say we’re contacting Haven.”

Martinex didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Captain-27, furious, until Nicholette’s hand softly brushed his forearm. “Marty,” Nikki whispered. Martinex violently pulled his arm away and stormed out of the cockpit. Captain-27 busily pressed a few buttons, and finally Rancor’s face appeared on the communications screen.

“Rancor,” he began to say.

“Wait!” Nicholette said. She pressed a button, preventing Rancor from seeing or hearing anything that went on in the cockpit. “Remember our promise to Talon. We said that if we ever went back to trying to be heroes, we’d stay well away from Haven.”

“I know, Nik, but what choice have we?” Captain-27 pressed the button again, in time to hear Rancor angrily asking what was going on. “Sorry, Rancor,” he said solemnly, “but we have an important request to make.”

Rancor didn’t answer straight away. She’d had enough of the Guardians of the Galaxy and did not want her and her people embroiled in yet another conflict. Finally, she said, “What is it?”

“As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Hala has been destroyed, and we’re trying to relocate the surviving Kree. We need somewhere that they can hide temporarily.”

“I shall see. I must speak with Talon first. Contact us again in three days time.”

“Thank you,” Captain-27 said. He pressed another button, and Rancor disappeared.

Aboard the cloaked Kri-Ree, in orbit around Haven II

“We have confirmation, Accuser. The Kree are currently in the Ba-Banii-Bas system and are hoping to seek refuge here,” a Ruul officer announced.

“Excellent. Prepare a taskforce to scout the route from here to Banii-Bas. The Kree scum will never make it to Haven.”

NEXT ISSUE: The Guardians of the Galaxy reassess their situation, more of Doctor Doom’s machinations are revealed, and something completely unexpected occurs that affects the entire GotG universe!

Written by Adrian J. Watt’s of SoftPixels

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: BLACKFRIARS BESTIARY 2.1 – FALL (II) BY MATTHEW J. PIERCE

Earth Fall, Earth #413054

“You understand why you have been chosen, my friend?”

“Yes, comrade. Because I am of the Singularity.”

So many cables and wires were strewn about, like a lazy descending web after a spring rain. Ends of them were taped to numerous areas of his body or black electrical taped to each other, but all of them terminated at monitoring stations that bleeped and blooped between their silence.

“It has been confirmed. Their attentions have been focused on one like our own—but one that defies Her.”

The uniformed officer barely paid attention to the monitors; they were there for the others. This one had the gift of decision; a person remanded the power of Task and Authority. It would be because of him that Marcus could finally leave the tube and smoke.

DO YOU WANT TO READ MORE? YOU CAN! Download for FREE at Smashwords

BIO: Upon scorched soil, a life-pod from an alternate universe is uncovered by Politruk Blinov. Inside, there is a man—a captain of sorts—bringing with him an ominous message that could sway the very future of the All-Union.

Meanwhile, another dimension away, Ayesha Swanson, freelance magician for the United Kingdom Xenobiology Division, finds herself embroiled in a plot to rob her of her magic—a plot that may lead her to ultimately discovering her true heritage!

Set within the Love Amongst Strangers universe, the new volume of our anthology series, Blackfriars Bestiary weighs in with nine unique stories, each detailing a unique corner of the vast series universe and featuring a diverse array of characters. Featuring authors such as Jack Buxton (Love Amongst Strangers: The Other Side), Bryn Fortey (Merry-Go-Round and Other Words), Joseph W. Patterson (Psychopomp), Jason S. Kenney (Love Amongst Strangers: Twisted) and Artifice Comics legends, Ed Ainsworth and Matthew James Pierce, Blackfriars Bestiary 2.1 serves as your jumping on point for the adventures of Ayesha Swanson and Mister Mo and the world in which they live.

Recommended for fans of Doctor Who, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and John Constantine, Hellblazer, Blackfriars Bestiary is your first port of call for all things action and supernatural!

MUSIC BLOG: DIG THE NEW BREED – SATURDAY 23RD MAY 2015

Vök – Waterfall

The Kut – I Don’t Need Therapy

Young Fathers – Shame

Magic Potion – Booored

STEVE GILMORE’S MUSIC REVIEWS: ENCRYPTION COMPLEX – ROSE ON YOU

You can listen to this track on MP3Unsigned

Encryption Complex are a couple of people; Paul and Andy, and they specialise in ‘intelligent dance music’ and I have to say I find the genre name amusing. I wonder, for example, what Idiotic Dance Music would sound like. On second thoughts scratch that, let’s not go there. I first reviewed Encryption Complex when I put All For You (March 2006) through its paces and found it quite listenable, although I have to admit it didn’t really do much for me. People Are Divided featured a lot of the same tricks, but this time really delivered and got a very favourable reaction from me so I guess it’s one for one so far…

I readily acknowledge that dance music isn’t really my thing, I prefer to dance to it than listen… if you know what I mean. I think a lot of the irritation towards the genre comes from a time when I was hanging around the Ejay forums and their own interpretation of the whole ‘dance’ genre. Speaking of which, and I guess the reason I bought up E*** in the first place is because the vocals in this track sound like they could have well come from an Ejay Soundpack. Especially the vocoded varieties. Nonetheless, Encryption Complex vault over this seeming obstacle easily because there’s a lot more going on in this track that requires your attention.

Say this about this artist; they ain’t afraid of a bit of mix and matching and Rose On You grows on you rapidly. Although there are a couple of things in the mix that are a bit iffy (a crackly sound on the Rhodes line at the beginning, the backing track level) Rose On You scores because of the summery, light feeling it carries about itself. There are some lovely acoustic guitar phrases dotted here and there too, and that’s always a plus for me. So, if the band took a vocal from somewhere and then either wrote a track for it or fitted it to an existing track, job well done I say. No sign of a join at all. Moreover, Rose On You comes across a cohesive, nicely put together a track that you may very well like and btw, don’t take too much notice of that ‘dance’ tag.

There’s a lot more to this track than a floor filler.

GUEST PUBLICATION SPOTLIGHT: BLACKFRIARS BESTIARY 2.1 – TOURNAMENT ARMOURED HERO “PLAGUE MASS” BY JACOB MILNESTEIN

Mark Mitsukai stepped off his bike, his boots stirring the dust around him as the engine of the powerful machine at his side purred gently.

A frown formed upon his face, confusion wrote large upon his features.

With slow, precise movements, he pulled the zip of his leather jacket down, sliding a gloved hand inside and drawing out his old Rider PDA. Lovingly, he unclipped the stylus and prodded the machine into life, studying the coordinates and maps he had downloaded prior to his departure from Demiville Town.

Whilst many others had abandoned their Rider PDAs, preferring to use the specially emulated app for pad or tab, Mitsukai had remained with his old device.

There was a history between him and the PDA and for all its limitations, he valued that history.

Still frowning, he lifted his head and looked out at the desert before him.

This was the right place, he was sure of it—and yet Taryse and Amelia seemed strangely absent.

“Come on, Taryse,” he whispered to the wind, “it’s me, Mark. Where the hell are you?”

DO YOU WANT TO READ MORE? YOU CAN! Download for FREE at Smashwords

BIO: Upon scorched soil, a life-pod from an alternate universe is uncovered by Politruk Blinov. Inside, there is a man—a captain of sorts—bringing with him an ominous message that could sway the very future of the All-Union.

Meanwhile, another dimension away, Ayesha Swanson, freelance magician for the United Kingdom Xenobiology Division, finds herself embroiled in a plot to rob her of her magic—a plot that may lead her to ultimately discovering her true heritage!

Set within the Love Amongst Strangers universe, the new volume of our anthology series, Blackfriars Bestiary weighs in with nine unique stories, each detailing a unique corner of the vast series universe and featuring a diverse array of characters. Featuring authors such as Jack Buxton (Love Amongst Strangers: The Other Side), Bryn Fortey (Merry-Go-Round and Other Words), Joseph W. Patterson (Psychopomp), Jason S. Kenney (Love Amongst Strangers: Twisted) and Artifice Comics legends, Ed Ainsworth and Matthew James Pierce, Blackfriars Bestiary 2.1 serves as your jumping on point for the adventures of Ayesha Swanson and Mister Mo and the world in which they live.

Recommended for fans of Doctor Who, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and John Constantine, Hellblazer, Blackfriars Bestiary is your first port of call for all things action and supernatural!

STEVE GILMORE’S MUSIC REVIEWS: NUFF X – FEELING TRAPPED

You can listen to this track on Soundclick

James Bacon (aka Nuff X) has established himself well on the Soundclick electronica scene over the past year or so and is big mates with two of my own favourites: HELLbus and Omnisine. All three have become much better known to me over the past year which just goes to show how things move around here. This time last year we were all agog with the likes of Stompp, Ad Fielding and a great many others. No doubt they are all busy somewhere or just too horrified about having their bits perused by yours truly. Whatever. That’s the great thing about online music, there always someone else :D Oh, btw, that isn’t really a dig at Stompp et al., except for being a bit quiet lately…

While I am certain that HELLbus and Omnisine are destined for greater things, me and Nuff haven’t always seen eye to eye. Certainly a lot of his early stuff was patchy but God, ya wanna hear what I tried to foist on people when I first started. We all have to start somewhere eh? Mind you, he’s been improving in leaps and bounds since then. When I first heard When It’s Over (April 2006) I didn’t like parts of it but did kinda admire the way he put it together, especially – if I remember correctly – some neat vocal touches. He has taken that idea and expanded it, and Feeling Trapped is the result and one that registered immediately with this reviewer. A very nice track indeed but it isn’t without it’s little niggles.

It will also take more than a couple of plays too I reckon, so it’s probably best to give it more than one play. If you like the territory Nuff X explores then you will have no doubt downloaded this already. If not, I do suggest you give it a listen because this is a very good example of how far this artists has come. Not exactly the knock ’em outta their socks track but it’s sure enough getting close. This is a good touch he’s got going on with these vocals and – as I can testify – it’s a difficult act to pull off. Big ups to Nuff X for doing it with style.

Recommended.