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Kratos vs. Thor

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009

As blade meets hammer, for hours on end, neither warrior is willing to give an inch.  The sounds of their battle echoes throughout the land; no words are spoken, for none are needed.  These men, these Gods relish the violence and clamour of war, both feel most alive when at their most destructive.

Blow by blow the combatants counter one another.  Kratos’ savagery is matched by Thor’s strength and experience.  Their conflict seems endless, their strategies exhausted until the Spartan pulls one final ace from his sleeve and summons the army of Hades.

The ground heaves and swells until finally the damned souls of warriors past burst underfoot; their swords and cries of woe overwhelm the God of Thunder as they strike at the very heart of his being.  They attack his body and mind, their fear and pain is set loose upon his metaphysical form - they stab at his soul.  This once mighty Avenger is brought to his knees, his hammer Mjolnir has been ripped from his grasp, but he is not beaten.  As the barrage from the dead tapers off, Thor Odinson rises to his feet, and with arms outstretched calls forth the power of the storm.  The sky clouds over and darkness grips the land; deafening winds force Kratos backwards as he struggle against them.  He has witnessed the rage of the gods before but never has he seen one with a fiery anger that could match his own.

“You are truly a great warrior, Kratos of Sparta,” Thor says looking skyward, “but your time on Midgard is at an end…Valhalla waits for you.”

So with that final promise Thor splits the sky with lightening so fierce and brilliant that Kratos has no hope of defending himself.  He cries out to Ares but his saviour will not come.  Again and again Thor pounds the Greek with the fury of the storm.  Soon enough, Kratos is down; Thor approaches, mystical hammer once again in his hand.  With a final arcing blow Kratos is defeated and an eerie calm settles across the land.

He-Man vs. Iron Man

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009

“By the Power of Grayskull,” echoed in the distance shaking the earth underneath Iron Man’s feet.

“By the Power of what!?” he thought questioning himself for what he’d heard. He was interrupted though by his suit’s processing unit warning him that it had detected a massive power surge.

“Well whatever it is, Power is power. Time to go blow it up.”

Jetting off towards the signature, it didn’t take Iron Man long to find the source. It was a man and a scantily clad one at that gripping a sword in one hand. While the man’s body resonated with an overwhelming power, it was clear that the conductor of the energy was the sword itself.

“Let’s see how this guy handles some modern technology.”

Iron Man pulled no punches and thrust a massive blast at the warrior standing hundreds of feet below him. The blast was met and reflected back by the warrior’s blade right at Iron Man. Caught by surprise, Iron Man was barely able to evade his own attack. Had his initial assault come from any lower, the counter attack very well could have proven fatal. It was time to test that thing known as exercising caution that so many had failed to drill into Tony Stark’s head.

Hovering above, he wasn’t really sure how to proceed. A tiger stalked out of the shadows and he saw the warrior mount it. The animal’s powerful hind legs propelled the duo skyward right at Iron Man.

“Looks like I’m making my exit now”

Not willing to underestimate his opponent again, Iron Man zipped away. He saw during his escape the tiger land cratering the ground under it’s paws and then racing after him. The raw speed was uncanny and it didn’t take him long to realize that out running this opponent wasn’t an option as the beast didn’t seem to tire in the slightest chasing him for miles.

As the beast leaped into the air a second time, Iron Man changed his course and circled back around his pursuers. He detected far less power within the beast than in the man and with the animal’s tail not clasping a sword, he felt safe to release an attack on his opponent’s primal vehicle. Upon release, the rider leaned back and swung his sword in a defensive arc, but the aerial blast found it’s mark and the flying cat was forcefully parted from it’s owner and thrown away to slam hard into the earth below.

“Battlecat. NOOOOOOOO!” screamed He-man as he crashed as well.

The fall affects He-man. Physically, barely, but emotionally, catastrophically. Tactically, he is now blinded by rage and revenge which is obvious by the sure fact that he sends his blade sailing through the air in an assault directly at Iron Man. The sword severs the top of Iron Man’s right shoulder leaving his arm exposed and without power. He-man’s following leap towards his adversary though is futile because while Tony Stark is in pain and damaged, he is far from beaten. The blast from Iron Man’s left arm propels his attacker backward. The blast from his chest accelerates the distance between the two.

The explosive beam’s impact doesn’t defeat Iron Man’s opponent though not immediately at least. It does however trigger a chain reaction that transforms He-man back into a mere mortal. Prince Adam meets the ground sharing his pet’s fate. Iron Man flies off to get a cheeseburger, repair his suit and eventually make his way to the hospital.

Hawkeye vs. Magneto

Wednesday, May 13th, 2009

A normal human being takes an arrow out of it’s sheath, knocks it, pulls back, aims and releases. The process done accurately for a single arrow can take even an expert dozens of seconds. Hawkeye’s target faced a barrage of arrows instantly. There was no way to evade such an array. No way, of course, except just how Magneto did it.

The arrows stopped, turned and fired. And just like that the predator had became the prey. Another set of arrows raced through the skies, but they too stopped and joined the reversed assault. A single arrow was then released, but when it stopped, it didn’t turn. It exploded disintegrating Magneto’s potentially deadly counter.

The splinters of broken arrows clicked against the floor. The air was empty. That emptiness created a certain desperation inside Hawkeye.  So, he did all he knew. He fired. He fired, everything. And everything stopped, everything except a single arrow.

The plastic arrow found it’s mark piercing Magneto’s thigh. Screaming in pain, Magneto raged upon his opponent. Arrows shot through Hawkeye escaping on the other side of him only to fly through a new unpenetrated area.

“Athletic. Accurate. Inventive. Yet, like all men, inadequate.”

Magneto stared down at the disfigured corpse of Hawkeye, blood dripping down his leg.

Gandalf vs. Punisher

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

Frank Castle had thrown everything he had at the Wizard but to no avail.  He was physically and mentally exhausted.  The old man dodged bullets, absorbed grenades, and cut down every offensive tactic that was thrown his way; still he stood his ground, cane in hand, a protective aura encircling him.

“Who are you?” The Punisher asks, defeat in his voice.

“I am Gandalf the White, head of the Istari, and protector of Middle-Earth,”  he replied. “And I am deeply sorry my dear boy, but your time is at an end.”

Gandalf raises his cane overhead and mutters an enchantment Castle cannot hope to understand.  His body suddenly becomes weightless; he floats a few feet off the ground but is paralyzed, his arms and legs outstretched.

The Wizard leans in close and says reassuringly “I’ll try to make this as painless as possible”, without hesitation, Gandalf directs his gaze at the Punisher, consuming the Veteran’s body and soul in a mystic fire.  His essence is destroyed; Frank Castle is dead.

Gambit vs. Human Torch

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

“You are hopelessly outmatched cajun, why don’t you just pack it in and head back to your swamp.”  He says while breezing through the Manhattan skyline, keeping well out of Remy LeBeau’s range.  Johnny Storm has always been good at getting a rise out of his adversaries but the arrogant thief was quick, both with his tongue and his impressive arsenal.  So they play a game of cat-and-mouse, darting in and out of buildings, taunting each other mercilessly.

“Ahh mon ami,” Gambit replies with a thick french accent and trademark smirk, “once I ‘ave finished wit’ you, I thought I’d ask that beautiful sistah of yours to come and be my swamp princess!”  In his own cocky fashion, the former X-Man leans coolly on his staff awaiting the Human Torch’s retaliatory wrath.  As the cosmically-powered hero swoops in for the kill, Gambit’s fingers caress a cold metallic cylinder hidden in his trench coat.  Calmly, and with impressive subtlety,  his mutant ability charges the device turning all of its potential energy, every molecule, into an unstable bomb.  On his face he can feel the heat that Storm generates as he rushes in but he waits; he waits until he can see the fire in his eyes, then in one smooth motion he pulls the fire extinguisher out from under his coat and hurls it at Johnny with deadly accuracy.  Storm barely has time to bring his hands forward to protect himself, but it does not matter; the canister explodes on contact, it’s concussive force knocks him to the ground, its contents dousing every last flame.

The Human Torch is down on all fours, searing pain licking every last nerve; he is wheezing, gasping for breath as Gambit strides over to him.
“Do not worry mon frere, Gambit will take good care of your sistah.”  The cajun says as he pulls out a deck of cards.  “Here…deez are for you.”  The deck glows a deep reddish-purple as he stuffs them into Johnny Storm’s mouth.

“Au revoir” is the last thing the Human Torch ever hears.

Dr. Doom vs. Samus

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

The flat, barren terrain stretched for miles. The cracked ground screams for rain, for life, but not even the smallest of creatures lie underfoot. A few hundred yards from Samus stood a man or at least, she thought it was a man. A quick analysis of Dr. Doom’s suit did nothing to confirm or deny this fact, but it did reveal that this entity’s appearance had deceived Samus.

What Dr. Doom’s armor lacked in style, it made up for in raw power. A reality that he shared with his enemy by leaping skyward releasing an energy blast below. No matter Samus thought, she had fought unimaginable beings of immeasurable power and succeeded. She proved this by activating her defenses and absorbing the blast. As the shield goes down, Samus breaks into a full on sprint towards her enemy. Doom sends a second blast her way, but she transforms into a tight sphere and evades it. Moments later she’s back on her feet again closing the gap between her and her enemy. As Samus nears her adversary, she releases a blast of her own from her cannon which Dr. Doom takes and falls backward. With a flick of the wrist, Samus grapples Doom’s leg preparing to swing him into a titanic throw.

It never happens though.

As the chain licks the steel of Doom’s armor it conducts a charge down the link effectively neutralizing the weapon as well as Samus’ defenses.

“Do you really think a single trivial blast could cause me to fall? Silly.”

Samus is running again. Running away. Absorbing not an option. Evading not an option. There is now only the hurried pace of her feet meeting the dust below. A surge of energy causes Samus to stumble and fall hard into the ground. Doom pressing forwards, arm extended, continues to electrocute his opponent. In desperation, Samus charges her cannon to maximum power and releases it against the ground beneath her dieing body.

A crater forms as Samus flies like a rag doll through the air behind her opponent. Nearing the ground, Samus completes one final move of dexterity to land on her feet despite her damaged state.

“Very impressive. Pointless, but impressive nonetheless.”

Doom is engulfed in flame as Samus in an act of desperation covers her opponent with her flame thrower. Effortlessly stepping through the fiery assault, Doom grabs Samus by the arm and throws her upward. On her way up, she is hit with a devastating blast to the back. When her body falls, there isn’t any life left in her for a last ditch effort. There isn’t any life left in her at all.

“Enjoyable. Who’s next?”

Leonardo vs. Yoda

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

The lightning, blinding and powerful engulfed Splinter consuming his life. Leonardo watched in horror, his mind searching for a explanation. His master was now dead. His brothers were dead too by his own hand. One moment he was having the exact same pointless argument with Raphael that he always had and the next minute he was striking him down. Why had he done it? Why had this green being killed his master?

Strike or Surrender? Fight or Flee?

He fled. Dashing through the sewers soundlessly, effortlessly and instantly from years of practice. When Leonardo finally found his exit, he saw that where he had been and where he was were two completely different things. What should have been the dirty, garbage covered city streets was mucky, moist swampland. This must be all related. Before Leonardo couldn’t walk his mind through this dilemma though, it all hit him at once. His brothers were gone. His master was gone. And now, his world was gone.

He ran, again.

The pace was the same, but the feet that met the swamp below were noisy and clumsy. There was nothing ninja about Leonardo right now. Nothing left of him. All he knew was running so running is what he did. He ran until he was forced to stop just at the edge of a decent to a valley below, darkness was everywhere. A sound startled him and in that moment the miles he had covered were forgotten. He sucked in the pants of exhaustion, his lungs screaming, but his mind focused. He knew that sound. He had heard that sound a hundred times before he had seen his master electrocuted.

The sound was that of a slashing lightsabre.

Leonardo enraged and shot down the decent to the valley floor below. He pierced through the dark growth throwing caution to the wind. All he knew was speed and that sound. Just as the growth grew thicker potentially hindering his pace, Leonardo’s hands embraced his katanas and blades licked the foliage before him eliminating any obstacle. When finally Leonardo reached a clearing, he saw his sound and the smallest of doubts that he had was diminished as the memory became not just sound, but also a vivid arcing blade of light. There was no hesitation this time. No second guessing. No fear. There was only Leonardo’s feet leaving the ground and flying towards the bearer of the light. Blood covered Leonardo’s face as his katanas found their mark.

The lightsabre fell softly to the wet grass below from it’s dead owner’s hand and Leonardo was victorious.

But as he looked upon his enemy, he did not see an emerald evil, but instead saw a man. Barely a man. This was not his enemy. This was his shame. What had he become? Leonardo’s emotions clouded his mind until eventually only one thought was able to find its way out of all that confusion. He still needed his vengeance. It wasn’t the ninja way, but the ninja way had died with his brothers and his master.

He would have his revenge.

He picked the lightsabre off the ground purposefully. Felt it’s weight in his hands. It lacked the balance of his katanas, but Leonardo required little practice to adjust to fighting with a weightless blade. There was no denying the raw power of this weapon. His katanas were sharp, but the blade of light offered not even the slightest resistance when carving an object.

This would be how he’d have his revenge.

And so the fearfully truly became the fearless. His mind had lost it’s ideals, but hardened in it’s mission. Leonardo turned and made his way back to the sewers. We’d like to believe that the journey was heroic that it was destiny that being the hand of vengeance was simple and quick, but the walk was long. The mission softened. The doubts crept in. Leo’s muscles aching from a day and nearly a night’s worth of sprinting, he found himself a suitable hiding place and went to sleep.

He dreamed of sitting beside Donatello on the work bench zoning out to his explanations of his newest gadget. He dreamed of sharing Pepperoni pizza with Michelangelo and seeing his brother eat so much that he could barely move. He dreamed of screaming at Raphael, fighting with Raphael and ultimately, laughing with Raphael. And he dream of his Master. Sitting beside Splinter for hours on end meditating and fighting the inner impatience to get up and goof around with the rest of his brothers.

That Sound.

Leo was awake and on his feet. The sound of light had returned and what was most shocking is that it came from where he had been. He made his way back fighting through the hazy sleeplessness that still threatened to close his eyes. He knew he should be more awake, more alert, but the combined physical and emotional exhaustion of the previous day’s events was proving a worthy adversary. He heard the sound and what sounded like a tornado of leaves following it. The sound of wind made the sound of light hard to identify for Leonardo. He knew it came from the valley where he’d been though. He slowly crept towards the edge of the decent, pushing away one final thick branch and then he saw the sound of wind and light. He saw the last person to see Splinter alive.

He saw Yoda.

Their eyes met and Yoda’s whirlwind of swordplay ended for he had seen this green man. He had seen him flee after he killed the rat. And in that moment, Yoda empathized with this man as he knew that he had taken his master from. A master without a student. A student without a master. Yoda was quickly awakened from his pity though as Leonardo sent one of his katana’s sailing through the air looking to end the fight before it even began. The sword was brushed aside from a far though with a quick flash of Yoda’s hand.

“A Master, you are not. A Master, you cannot hope to…”

Defeat on his lips, Yoda’s final word was left caught in his throat as his enemy leaped towards him. It wasn’t the flying assault though, but the blade of the assailant that caused Yoda to pause. A katana in one hand and a lightsabre in the other. It was Luke’s and Yoda knew this. Sparks flying, the lightsabres connected as Yoda effortlessly sidestepped the trailing swing of Leo’s katana. The second time their eyes met, lighsabres briefly locked, no sign of pity remained on Yoda’s face. Fingers clenched, Yoda thrust his arm forward sending Leo flying into a tree far, far away from their initial slashes. Leonardo half pushed up his body with his katana hand, covered in swampy mud, watching the miniature menace fly towards him and meeting Yoda’s flash with Luke’s lightsabre. Flipping backwards, Yoda extended his arms in a devastating lightning blast to end his enemy. Leonardo more out of instinct than understanding held the lightsabre in-front of himself and caught the lightning, saving his life.

“A Master, you cannot hope to defeat.”

Yoda said finishing his earlier sentence continuing the press his enemy with his electric assault.

“I must avenge my family for the evil that took their lives.”

Evil. The word hit harder than any blow could have struck Yoda. This was the dark side. The lightning evaporated into the air and Yoda backed away to let the noticeably shaken, Leonardo, to his feet. Grasping at the air, Yoda, brought Leo’s thrown katana to his hand. Both combatants now dual wielding like weapons, Leo attacked still driven to succeed in his mission. Lightsabre met lightsabre. Katana met katana. And so it continued as such for a time until a fortunate defense against Yoda’s katana attack sent the blade into the intertwined lightsabres of both fighters leaving only the sword’s hilt, effectively rendering it useless. Wasting no time Leonardo led with a quick katana slash that Yoda had no choice, but to meet with his lightsabre to dismantle the blade. Leo’s inevitable following slash with his lightsabre came in a deadly sideswipe at Yoda’s unarmed side meeting Yoda’s hand…

…and disappearing.

The small green hand surged with wild energy as Leonardo was left dumbfounded wielding a katana without a blade and a lightsabre without a light. Yoda released his grasp on the energy allowing it to merge with his lighsabre creating a brilliant vortex of blue and green magic. Frantically, Leonardo tossed the hilts of his former weapons at his opponent, but not even the smallest of actions was required of Yoda as he deflected both to the sides with a single thought. A spinning strike of sea foam green struck down Leonardo leaving Yoda pondering what potential within himself he had unlocked.

Scarlet Witch vs. Wolverine

Monday, May 11th, 2009

Wanda Maximoff is trapped.  She had eluded her pursuer up to this point but now she has nowhere to run, she is cornered; she must fight Wolverine.

Hidden deep in an abandoned warehouse, the Scarlet Witch frantically tries to come up with a plan.  She has never been a strategist but she refuses to lay down and die.  Logan is always on the offensive, he has followed her scent and will be upon her momentarily.  She musters all the strength and courage she has and stands to face her former ally.  Gesturing in his direction, her fingers flashing an ominous red, she fires a hex-bolt at him, surrounding him in a rich crimson aura.

Logan’s arms and body become uncomfortably heavy, his sight dims, and suddenly he cannot smell or sense her presence.  He halts his advance, hesitating he realizes that she has turned off his innate mutant abilities.  Looking up at her in wide-eyed disbelief he hears one word:

“Fire.”

Before he can even scream his skin is burning, his vision is filled with the flames emanating from his flesh.  He can smell his tissue scorching.  Wolverine is spontaneously combusting.

Vainly, he drops to the floor in hopes of extinguishing the blaze but it is as though his very molecules are alight.  It is in this last desperate moment he realizes what he must do.  What he always does; what he was built to do: attack.  While still smoldering, with barely enough muscle on his adamantium skeleton to move, he lunges at her.  He is slow, and she tries to evade, but his claws still sink deep into her leg.  She falls to the ground holding her wound.  As the panic sets in she tries to crawl away, but it’s too late; his steely fingers are wrapped tightly around her ankle.  Slowly and relentlessly he climbs on top of her, three gleaming blades extended from what’s left of his hand.  He can see the fear in her eyes and the tears streaming down her face, but it matters not.

“Sorry kid,” he whispers as he plunges his knives deep into her chest.  The curse is lifted, his healing factor returns, and Logan is left to lick his wounds.