(Away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city...)
Somewhere on a distant plain, stoically stands the ultimate figure of enlightenment, self-control, and zen. Tranquility flows through his body like water down a peaceful stream. He stands there, silently meditating under a giant redwood tree.
A curious breeze flies by. It brushes along his rock-hard obsidian body, a form that has underwent years of rigorous martial art training. It twirls around his perfectly ninety-degree corners along it's head, shoulder, arm, or whatever part that is, and escapes peacefully through the tree's branches. Monoslab remains unphased, as he always has been, ever since he was just a young slab.
He understands his place in nature, nay the universe, and is quite content in playing his tiny role to the best of his ability. It's all he's ever desired from existence. Power and wealth are heavy burdens to carry, even for this stone giant, so Monoslab has adopted a life of peace and acceptance. He wishes not to wage war on the men of the world, nor does he wish to exploit them for profit. He instead wishes for the flowers to grow beautifully in the summer and the leaves to blow in the wind in the fall. Withstanding rain or snow, he wishes for others to have warmth and shelter.
Monoslab may be a strange and foreign figure, just as a giant slate of dark rock might be the strangest monk ever seen, but make no mistake, if ever pushed to the limit, he is invincible. No one knows what could set off this zen-master of peace and balance, but everyone is in agreement in pitying the one who does, for his forbidden martial arts' devastating power may be the root of his passive nature.
He knows too much. His power is too great. He must lead the silent life of a pacifist or the entire human race, nay the world, may be destroyed. This burden weights on the strong shoulders of Monoslab, the peaceful giant.
(Back in the fray...)
Blue Mantis is sitting on a bus stop bench with a rolled newspaper in one hand and an ice pack in the other. He takes the ice pack and reaches back, pushing it to his sore neck. He grumbles at the soreness and current alternate-universe events, and rolls his eyes, waiting for the bus. A few minutes go by and finally the bus rolls down the street. Blue Mantis' attitude is quickly picked up, if only for just that second.
Mantis stands, readying himself to jump aboard the bus, but to his dismay, as the pair of doors slide open, behind the wheel of the bus is none other that a wet green-furred rat with a bus driver hat sitting conspicuously on his head. The big radioactive rat lets out a malicious laugh, chattering his disgusting teeth like a disembodied skull, and hawks a stomach-turning spitball at the blue superhero.
He quickly tries to defend himself like a baseball player, trying to hit the wad of phlegm with his rolled up paper, but the stocks are low and there isn't much luck in the cards. Comics weren't very funny either. He misses and the spit smudges itself all over his chest and shoulder, triggering some sort of mysterious chemical reaction to accelerate Blue Mantis' overall height and size. As he exhales a not-so-optimistic breath, he begins to see the rooftops of one of his beloved cities on Alternae, and thinks things aren't really so bad. He's this city's defender after all. It could be much worse.
Just then, he is under fire, as a series of laser blasts rain down from the sky. Mantis panics, tripping and scurrying for cover on all fours. He pokes his head over a rooftop and sees SatelLight drifting towards the surface from the sky. Okay, things could have gotten worse.
He wonders for a bit about SatelLight's intentions. He remembers his frantic actions before, but he hasn't quite figured out what makes his rogue and/or corrupted CPU tick. Then again, he could just be psychotic and homicidal. There isn't much use trying to reason with something that just likes to bring harm and devastation to things around him.
Mantis strategies on his next move, but before he puts anything into action, SatelLight is on him with a fury of lightning-quick melee strikes with his electric whip-like appendages. The superhero tries to evade the onslaught while sprinting away, but SatelLight is much faster. He lurks over him like a police helicopter chasing down a runaway criminal, lashing out zapping pain when he sees fit. Mantis continues to run, spins around city block and parking garage complex, and rests for a moment. For a second, he thinks he's outrun or, at the very least, outsmarted the orbital weapon gone wild, but long tentacles droop down and wrap themselves around his neck. He thrashes about, fighting for breath and freedom, but he finds himself slowly coming off the ground and closer to his pursuer.
SatelLight lifts his victim in the air and surveys the area. Focused on a barbed-wire manufacturing plant not too far away, the renegade machine launches the blue hero towards it. Mantis lands into the facility in great pain. He shrieks out in horror as the plant ignites in flames and explodes around him. Code runs through SatelLight's mainframe wondering if he's doing the right thing. What is right? What is wrong? Why are big people blue, annoying, and uncomfortable being thrown through buildings? The information scan runs it's course, but no definite answer surfaced. SatelLight simply drifts away, back into the sky, satisfied for the moment with the chaos and confusion it caused.
(On the streets of Alternae...)
“That was good shot,” The Mighty Mjaeder compliments, as both he and Bob reach their destination in the park. “A lucky one, but good, nevertheless. I might even mightily suggest that it was a fluke, and as such, it should be erased from the record books. After all, it wasn't official or anything.”
Bob half agreed. Divided in his feelings, he understood everything Mjaeder was saying, there just hasn't been too many other moments in the life of a frost giant to be proud about. He feels bad for what he did, horrified even, but a part of him is proud he has at least one thing to hold over his mightier counterpart.
“A rematch then!” Mjaeder commands, noticing the split emotions running down Bob's face. “Let's make things official this time! We're both fresh now. Nay of us were in a previous battle and we are both expecting to fight one another. What do thy say?”
Bob's shoulders drop and he lets out a deep breath. He knows he is no match. He knows he'll lose, just like the many times before. The Mighty Mjaeder is one of the strongest people he's ever know, or has ever read about. But, against his better judgment, he reluctantly nods back.
“Why thy long face, Bob?” Mjaeder laughs, crossing his arms. “Thy not so spirited for battle now? Shall I be preoccupied again for you? Shall I exhaust myself first? Fear not, I will give you the first blow, my friend. Go ahead, hit me as hard as you can.”
Okay, those are terms Bob likes, and maybe like last time, that's all he needs for his undefeated streak to continue. It may have been a lucky shot, but it was also a shot he's been practicing ever since he was a moderately large frost giant. Bob rears b ack, loads up his world-famous clothesline, the Cold Shoulder!, and quickly rushes forward.
He grits his teeth, marching forward, with all his strength and power focused on just his right arm hitting the throat of The Mighty One. Unfortunately for Bob, it's nowhere as mighty as it should be. As Bob approaches, Mjaeder effortlessly reaches forward and grips onto Bob's arm, completely blocking the devastating Cold Shoulder attack. He holds his arm steady for a bit, shaking his head, as a cold sweat comes over Bob. He knows he just lost all hope. He's done. He flinches, readying himself for a world of pain.
The pain doesn't arrive, so Bob curiously opens his eyes.
“I have no need to strike you down, right now. You may deserve it, but now it not the time,” Mjaeder states, letting his arm go. “I have proved all I wanted to prove. You are no match for me.”
Bob shrugs, relieved of the postponed spanking, and begins to laugh off the whole thing.
“This is your only pardon,” the viking continues, extending his hand. Bob reaches out and they shake hands. “Because next time, I'll beat you do so bad even great Themarkan's left boot will feel it!”
Bob smiles and tries to let go of the hand, but Mjaeder's mighty grip is quite strong. He hold onto his hand firm and hard, and Bob's optimistic smile slowly dissolves into a low of horror, as if he was standing in front of a moving bus.
Normal civilians coming home from work notice a strange blue figure streak across the sky.
(Somewhere else on Alternae...)
Citius, Alternae's city golem protector, is mending the destruction of previous battles. Like a magician, he waves his rocky hand over the rippled and broken concrete, and in a flash, it shines anew. He takes a clump of raw soil and pushes it into a gaping hole in a skyscraper. Like living clay, the loose dirt magically mends the hole, making it as perfect as the day it was made. He plucks a hair from his arm, twists it about, and fashioned a fancy metal balance beam for the developing playground. For a moment, he is happy and content, despite the thoughts of inevitable danger loom in the back of his head. He hopes for a future without such evil forces as Megapwn.
These happy thoughts don't last too long, however, as a fireball scorches by, nearly nicking the side of Citius' head. He tries to quickly turn around, having such a giant mass, but the fire ball nearly circles around before the city golem can get a good look at it.
“I just smashed that!” the fireball shouted, with a scaly, red, claw pointing forward.
Citius tries to focus, wondering what this figure is, and if he's another force of ill-intent on this chaotic wormholed planet.
“People cry when their junk is broken,” the fireball continues. “And that's what I like!”
Citius frowns, hearing this, and reaches out with this Tesla coil blaster. He fires a shot in the air, but the glowing tormentor quickly evades.
“You will know me as Nyarlath!” the flowing figure barks. “And you too will learn to fear me! Now perish!”
Nyarlath comes in, firing hellish inferno blasts at Citius. Three to four blasts connect with the city-giant's body, but it's nothing more than a slight sting. Citius grimaces, but commands the bricks and walls nearby to peel off their original positions and float in the way of the roaring demon.
They may be simple bricks and cement blocks, but after bursting through a few of them, Nyarlath feels the strain of pushing his flight through solid material. He chooses to evade the remaining blocks, which quickly doesn't seem to be a better alternative.
Citius transforms the remaining blocks and bricks into a collection of floating guns and lasers, all of which surround the demon from every angle.
“For a big, slow, pile of bricks,” Nyarlath cackles, looking around at the array of gunnery abound. “I like the way you think, but I suggest you don't do what I think you want to do. You wouldn't want me to even things.”
Why should Citius believe him? Citius is a protector and an ally of this city and planet. The demon's threat falls on deaf ears. Citius readies his guard, nods his head, and commands the guns to fire.
Splintering bullets and lasers light the city's night sky, hitting every inch of the demon's hellish body. He howls and cries as the much faster floating cannons bring him down to the street below.
“I warned you,” Nyarlath snarls, breathing heavy and cracking his neck. “But it's just like you hero-types to ignore ultimate wisdom! All too predictable!”
Nyarlath lets out a deafening yell, screaming out to the sky, and as his voice carries out in the night, the night retracts in, pouring down his throat. An evil smirk comes across his villainous face, as Nyarlath gulps down the infinite darkness like a dark stout beer, and with each passing gulp, his size increases. His laughing is louder and his fiery hatred is hotter. After only a few quick moments, Nyarlath is nearly the same size as Citius. A quick exhale of flame through his nostrils incinerates the floating weapons.
“I guess we put this to the test!” the demon roars, running forward and slamming into Citius' body. “How much do you care about this stupid planet? Do you really care that much to face me?”
Citius pushes back, but for the first time in a while, he actually had to try to move something. The demon flaps his wings and balances himself just a block or so away. Citius then lifts the street like a rug, causing it to ripple towards the demon like a wave. Nyarlath quickly approaches, running up the wave, and to the dismay of Citius, leaps off and hits with a brutal elbow to the head. Close in, Nyarlath begins to go to work, connecting with some earth-shattering kicks and punches. Citius blocks a well-aimed kick and grabs his ankle. He then throws him into a building complex.
The demon crashes viciously into the building, and Citius quickly waves his hands over the top of it. With the motion of his wrist, the building is repaired, but with Nyarlath imprisoned inside.
“Really?” he hollers from inside the building. “You think this will stop me? You are a fool!”
A giant red fist busts out of the top of it, uppercutting Citius. Citius back-steps a bit, but suddenly transforms the busted roof bits into shards of raining splinters. Citius fires them back into him, but Nyarlath quickly brushes them off in frustration.
“That's enough!” a deep robotic voice beckons, over the top of the fight. Enormous purple eyes ignite through the dust and shadow of the night. “You two will stop this now, and listen to the words I will share with this puny planet!”
Megapwn lumbers near, putting both sizes of Citius and Nyarlath to shame. He looks down at the pair of them with disdain.
“Go and tell this world that there is a choice to be made!” Megapwn shouts through his tinny mouth. “Tell this world they can either grovel at my feet and beg for mercy or die gruesome deaths under my fist!”
“There will be no spectators! There will be only soldiers in war! There will either be allies or their will be corpses! Either way, stop what you are doing and tell the world of this! They have but a week's time to respond... and then I will start to strike!”
