| Posted: 28 Nov 2008 23:21 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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Guys, I have created a new superhero series. I'm calling it Lost in Time. I'm trying to make my character as original as possible. Once I acquire the skill and the know-how, I hope to put this into comic book form. Soon I will post images of my hero on the site. This is just the first part of the first issue. This first issue is mostly like an introduction. I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts on this.
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| Posted: 28 Nov 2008 23:22 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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Dr. Morris Woods stared in awe as he looked upon the enormous chunk of ice as the divers hauled it with great force onto the deck of the ship. The shape of a human arm within the frozen block had captured his interest, and now he had some powerful feeling inside telling him that he had just made the greatest discovery of his life.
With curiosity nagging at his very being, Woods rushed excitedly towards the thing and bent down for a closer look. The divers unhooked the chains and stepped back from the giant shard of ice; they too were amazed by this new find. As Woods peered through the frozen water, he saw that there was much more than just an arm; there was a whole body attached to it. It appeared completely in tact, and he observed that the ice had protected the corpse from decomposition.
“Is that a man in there?” asked Jason, one of the divers.
“Yes, it certainly is,” replied Woods, his lips trembling with enthusiasm. He started to continue, but he lost all track of thought when he noticed that the ice was melting, thus making it much easier to view the body. His jaw dropped even further when he saw how perfectly the man had been preserved in his death. He looked as if he had died just that morning!
It was the dead man’s clothes that made the discovery even more extraordinary. The fabric was astounding—a style that had not been seen for hundreds of years. It was then that he noticed the two sword hilts sticking out from behind his back. “Remarkable,” the scientist said breathlessly. “Take this body to my quarters. I shall study it further there,” he said finally.
And there it was, just lying on the table, motionless--a being from a time long past, preserved for the future. It brought much promise to the scientific world, and Woods planned to benefit much from this new discovery. He had already used his satellite phone to alert his colleagues in Portland, and they would be waiting for him when the ship came to dock. Of course none of them believed him when he told them, but soon they all would, he knew.
By now just about all of the ice had melted off of the corpse, making his features more discernable. His skin was of a bronze shade—not in the least bit pale—and his long straight hair ran down past his shoulders, and Woods thought he could see some type of metal material beneath his shirt, which could only be his armor.
It must have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw an eyelid move. But that wasn’t possible. The man was dead. All of a sudden he was breathing, and his eyelids were still moving. It can’t be, Woods thought incredulously, backing up on his heels, but without realizing it. The corpse was no longer a corpse. Without a doubt, it was alive.
The man’s eyes slowly opened, and after a second of staring at the ceiling, the stranger lifted his arms, and pulled himself up to a sitting position. His movements were slow and stiff, which make sense since he had been frozen for hundreds of years. His eyes widened in a combination of fear and amazement as he witnessed this fantastic spectacle. It was an impossible act, to die, then live again.
Now on his feet, the stranger had noticed that he was not alone in the room. His eyes glowed a volcanic purple that seemed to bore right through Woods. Standing about six feet tall, he possessed a lean yet strong build. Above his slender waist, the man widened out into a powerful set of shoulders and rippling arm muscles. On his back was a crimson-colored cloak that was worn with holes. He wore a pair of black leather gauntlets and gray boots with the tops lined with white fur. His youthful features showed evidence that he was in his early twenties.
“Who are you?” the stranger asked. As Woods studied him, he could see no sign of any emotion on the man’s face.
Woods stuttered, still struggling to regain his composure. “My name is Morris…Dr. Morris Woods,” he told him.
The man’s eyes never for a second lost focus. “Where am I?”
“You are in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean,” replied Woods.
“How did I come to be here?”
“We found you in the water, frozen. We thought you were dead,” Woods explained.
The stranger didn’t seem to be affected by this at all. “How soon till we reach land?”
“We should be back in Portland in less than twelve hours.”
“Portland? I know nothing of this place,” responded the stranger, and Woods realized that this was not going to be easy. He had obviously never been in this situation before, and he was unsure of how to handle it.
“It is a city in the state of Maine. That’s where we’re going.” While the stranger didn’t show it, he had to be as confused as he was. Woods wondered what the man was thinking. “When we get there my friends and I will explain everything to you. I know it must be hard for you to understand all of this.” The stranger watched him with a look of suspicion in his eyes, but did not answer.
Woods took his silence as a change to have his own questions answered. “So…uh…what is your name?” he asked.
“I go by many names. But you can call me Brennon.”
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| Posted: 29 Nov 2008 00:07 |
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Sounds like an ancient Captain America type with the Red, white, and blue. A lot of questions like what is his powers or does he have any powers, and so forth.
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| Posted: 29 Nov 2008 00:39 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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whoops, I just noticed a mistake. I fixed it though. It had said, "I go by names" but I meant to say "I go by many names".
All of these questions will be answered soon enough. More is coming.
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| Posted: 04 Dec 2008 02:09 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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Okay here's the next part. Just to let you know we're changing point of view here.
He leaned against the railing and stared at the towering structures, as their ship drew closer and closer to the amazing city called Portland. Brennon had never seen anything like it, and he wondered what kind of world he had landed in. But how did I get here? Why can’t I remember?
It didn’t take long for the ship to reach the dock. “We’re here, Brennon,” Woods told him. “I want you to meet a few friends of mine. They’ve been waiting for us.”
Brennon turned and looked at him intently. He knew that this was a strange place, but everything—not just the cities—was different here. Even the clothes were weird. The fat man who called himself Woods didn’t dress like normal people. He wore a white coat that seemed to have no use; it was so thin it was hard for Brennon to imagine how it could possibly keep him warm. The boat too was odd. The floor was a white shiny surface made up of some other material, rather than wood.
Woods and some of the other sailors walked beside him as he made his way out of the ship and onto the dock. They soon began walking towards the city.
“Look! There they are!” exclaimed Woods, pointing.
Brennon wasn’t listening. He had already forgotten about the fat fool in the funny coat. He saw things that were too wild to be real. All along the roads he saw horseless wagons that moved by themselves and made ungodly noises, and branchless trees that were connected to each other by wires. It was like some kind of a mad dream.
By now a man and a woman had approached Brennon and Woods. They were looking at him in disbelief. “Brennon, these are my colleagues, Dr. Elizabeth Borden and Dr. Frank Hiseman. They’re the friends I was telling you about,” Woods quickly explained. Brennon gave them a quick glance, but paid them hardly any attention. He was too preoccupied with his surroundings.
“Dr. Woods, we need to get to a more private place. People are starting to notice him,” said Hiseman, indicating Brennon. He was tall and sickly thin, with old leathery skin and a wrinkled face. His voice was firm and confident; unlike that of Woods, who seemed to have a more nervous personality.
“Dr. Hiseman is right. We should not have met here. People are not ready for him yet,” agreed Borden. She was an attractive woman, who looked to be in her mid thirties.
Brennon whipped his head around to consider her. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
The woman hesitated, and then blinked in surprise. “You don’t know what’s happened to you, do you?” she asked him.
“No,” he replied simply, taking a step forward. “Tell me.”
“Try to think, Brennon. What’s the last thing you remember?”
He paused for a moment and searched his thoughts. “I…I don’t know,” he told her, still puzzled by his lack of memory.
“Brennon,” she continued, “I think that is the key to figuring out how you got here. But let me explain what we have been able to gather from it: Dr. Woods discovered your body in a block of ice. Apparently you had been frozen like that for hundreds of years. It’s a process we call suspended animation. And once he and his crew managed to get you out of the water, your body began to thaw.”
Although Borden’s explanation was the only one that could possibly make any sense, Brennon felt it hard to digest. Can she be telling the truth? Can I believe her? But then, how can I not? What else can be said to account for this strange and unnatural place?
Feeling overwhelmed and confused, Brennon turned and looked all around him, trying to spot something familiar. Nothing in this world reminded him of his old life. Here everything was different.
“Brennon, I think it is time we—” began Woods.
He was cut off as Brennon broke in sharply, “Can you take me back?” he asked.
Woods frowned. “No, I…I’m sorry. It is impossible for one to travel back in time, to see things that have already been.”
Even though that answer was expected, Brennon still felt a stab of pain. “I’m trapped in this unholy place and I can’t get out,” he muttered under his breath. He paused a moment, then looked up at Woods and the others. “If you cannot help me,” he began in a firm voice, “there is no reason for me to remain here.” And with that said, he turned his back on them and began to walk away.
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| Posted: 04 Dec 2008 02:53 |
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So he's not happy about being in another time, but he doesn't quite remember where it was he came from at the same time.
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| Posted: 04 Dec 2008 03:23 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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He remembers the world he came from detail for detail, but he cannot remember what happened to him last--which would be how he got frozen in the ocean. Sorry if I did not make that clear. There will be a flashback later on in the series.
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| Posted: 04 Dec 2008 15:27 |
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Sorry, my fault for reading too quickly. That's why I wanted to make sure I had it right. Once you get lost in a story it's hard to keep up.
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| Posted: 07 Dec 2008 21:08 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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This is the last part of the issue. Again we are changing point of view.
Knowing that for the sake of science Brennon could not leave, Woods exclaimed, “No! You can’t go!” Without thinking, Woods reached out and grasped the man’s shoulder in an act of desperation.
Brennon spun around angrily, and gave him a cold stare. There was something about the man’s eyes that made the blood freeze in his veins. They held a look of cruel determination that made the scientist wish he had never touched him. Brennon just stood there looking at him in a way that seemed he was daring Woods to try to stop him.
Once certain that no one was going to stand his way, he turned around and continued walking. Woods wanted to yell out at him, but the words were stuck in his throat. He hoped that one of his colleagues would do what he lacked the courage to do, but neither of them moved a muscle.
He watched as Brennon disappeared into the crowd, and everyone there turned to consider him as he passed by. While his strange appearance did make him stand out from the rest, most people probably assumed he was on his way to some costume party.
Woods and the others began to chase after him, although he had no idea what they were going to do once they caught up to him. This isn’t good! I can’t believe we let this guy loose in the city, he thought to himself worriedly.
* * * * *
Clyde fingered the knife in his pocket as he watched the white dude in the crazy threads come walking up the alleyway. He signaled to Joe, who was leaning up against a wall, smoking a cigarette.
He was an odd looking man; that was for sure. He had a pair of swords attached to his belt like he was some kind of nut from the Lord of the Rings or some junk like that.
“Hey punk! What’s your business here?” Clyde yelled out at him, in a threatening tone that he knew would intimidate the stranger.
He wondered if the guy was deaf, cause the dude just stood there, not making a sound. He didn’t even look scared.
At first Clyde was surprised, but now he was just plain mad. No man had ever ignored him like that before. “Hey I’m talkin’ to you!” he said, approaching the stranger, with Joe remaining close behind him.
The man was looking them both over carefully. “What do you want?” he asked calmly.
Clyde didn’t like the way this dude was treating him. No punk talks to me like that, he thought angrily, and he suddenly felt the urge to teach this man a lesson.
He took a sliding step forward, and now he was just inches from the stranger’s face. “I want you to treat us with some respect, punk! You dig?” he demanded, trying to talk as tough as possible.
The man didn’t flinch. “Get out of my face,” he replied coolly.
Clyde stepped back as told, then gave it all he had and slugged him in the jaw. The man’s head jerked back at the force of the blow, but he kept the rest of his body still. Surprisingly he did not even put up his fists, or try to run away.
His purples eyes burning with a hot fury, he returned his gaze to Clyde, and without any warning he lashed out with a powerful right cross, sending the gangster tumbling to the ground.
Man that hurt! Clyde thought, wiping the blood from his nose. His eyes were watery and his vision was blurred. He was beginning to realize that he might have picked on the wrong guy. He pulled himself to his feet and drew his knife from his pocket. He waved it threateningly in front of the stranger, hoping to frighten him away. The man glanced at the blade, and smirked, as if it amused him somehow.
“You think this is funny, punk!?” exclaimed Clyde. “Well now I get the last laugh!” he said, lunging at his opponent. The man saw the attack coming and reacted with absolute calmness. Quickly and effortlessly, he grabbed Clyde’s wrist, and twisted it until he heard something snap. Moaning with agony, the gangster dropped the knife and began to back away, but it was too late—the stranger was upon him. Gripping him by the shirt, he slung Clyde hard into the wall. He crashed to the ground with a thud.
With one enemy now out of the way, the man turned his attention to Clyde’s partner, who had his gun out and aimed directly at the stranger. The fool noticed the gun but did not seem to care. Drawing his blades, he strode confidently towards Joe. Clyde watched on as Joe pulled the trigger.
The stranger staggered, and a look of confusion mixed with pain flashed across his face. He seemed to not understand what had happened to him. Glancing down at his shoulder, his eyes widened with horror as he watched the blood leak through his clothes. Clutching the wound, he lurched backwards and leaned his body against a wall for support. He then thrust his right hand forward, and the blade came flying out in a smooth motion. Clyde winced as it pierced deep into Joe’s heart, silencing him forever.
* * * * *
“Get out of here,” Brennon growled through clenched teeth. The remaining thug scrambled to his feet and dashed out of the alleyway. He let himself down slowly, and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. After that was done, he was able to examine the wound more closely. He wondered how he had been so terribly injured. He saw no weapon strike him. He remembered feeling the pain after he heard the loud booming sound. It must have been that strange tool the bandit was holding that had done it.
He wasn’t sure but he had a feeling that there was something inside of the wound. Using the criminal’s knife, he stuck his fingers in the hole and began fishing around for it. After a few moments of unimaginable pain, he heaved a sigh of relieve as he yanked out the obstruction. It looked very much like a small rock, except it was much smoother.
He tossed it aside and began blotting up the blood. After about thirty minutes, the wound was starting to close up, and soon it was nothing more than a scar. The pain was all gone too. He then retrieved his blade from the chest of the dead thug, and continued on further into the alleyway.
The alley reeked with garbage, yet it seemed the only place that was quiet. He wasn’t ready to face the chaos of the city yet. There was still a lot he didn’t understand about this place. He was a man lost in time, in a strange world that was not his own.
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| Posted: 07 Dec 2008 23:01 |
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| Posted: 07 Dec 2008 23:55 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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Right now this may not seem much like a superhero story, but that first issue is mostly just an introduction. From here on it'll be action-packed. In my second issue, he will be up against government agents. I'm working on a huge fight scene for this next one. And in case you didn't catch it, I did answer this question,
Quote:
what is his powers
He has the ability to heal himself. But its not as fast as it is with other heroes.
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| Posted: 08 Dec 2008 00:11 |
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Reads like a professionally written book. Of course I'm not an expert, but that's my humble opinion.
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| Posted: 08 Dec 2008 00:20 |
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Thanks. I've been told that I do best in fight scenes.
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| Posted: 08 Dec 2008 00:24 |
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I don't think anyone noticed this...but...take a quick look.
http://superherouniverse.com/messageboard/article1679.htm
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| Posted: 09 Dec 2008 14:30 |
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Pretty cool story. So far so good
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| Posted: 10 Dec 2008 02:35 Last Edited By: Rick Jones |
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Thanks a lot!
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