[removed]

Dang. That’s harsh. Well done.

What a horrible "hero". Doesn't stop crime, and kidnaps and murders innocent people (which would classify her as a supervillain)

Crimes:

1. 2 definite Environmental Terrorism and a possible 3rd
2. 2 counts of Vandalism
3. Assault and/or Battery if glitter went in someone's lungs, a definite possibility
4. conspiracy to kidnapping and/or murder
5. breaking and entering, she couldn't have gotten permission to enter if the supervillain was unconscious.
6. multiple noise violations

I don't like Fireblood or her supervillain bestie.

    Down in the valley, on what is perhaps the last patch of real lush green grass in five hundred miles, was also the last neutral place: Ulysses' Daycare. Today children played tag, their laughter, shouts, and sometimes cries filled the bright sunny day. Ulysses thought it felt like the before time on days like this, at least in here. Normally he spent his day enjoying the sounds, manning the door, and delegating tasks to his assistants, but today he kept an ear towards two parents who waited to pick their kids up.

    "Melton," said Harrison, who led the vicious Nightcrawlers, the radiation had given them the ability to see in the dark.

    "Harrison," said the man across from him, Melton, who lead the industrious Curies, full of chemists that flooded the streets with recreational drugs, but also medicine.

    "I thought we had an agreement"

    "Olivia needed the night off, ok, chill, it's a one time thing," said Melton, his eyes bloodshot and suit even more torn than usual today. Ulysses thought maybe Melton had been testing his wares all night.

    "We had a fucking agreement, you get the day, I get the night. I dont give a fuck what sorta shit excuse you've got. I dont want your shitbag kid talking to my Ruella."

    "You take that back Harrison," said Melton, now inches from Harrison's face.

    "Shitbag. fucking. kid," Melton pulled his laser pistol from his belt, pointed it at Harrison's face, but just as he was about to pull the trigger he vaporized into ash.

    "Threat neutralized," said Ulysses' PRO-TEC 9 XL robot. It was an older model and bulky, but he really appreciated the full vaporizing feature, it made cleanup much easier.

    "Fourth one this week, Harrison," said Ulysses.

    "It's a lot easier than fighting out there," said Harrison, with a wink. Ulysses went back to reading his newspaper and Harrison turned to the children filing out of daycare, "Ruella! How was daycare today, princess?"

1908, an excavation sight in southern Italy

Nicolas ran towards the camp, the antique wooden box decorated intricately with star-like designs clutched under his arm. This could be the find of a lifetime, if his suspicions were correct.

His 3 peers were busy, studying maps, old records, and transcripts from interviews with the locals. All related to any information on a previously unheard of Roman Emperor, supposedly called Testiclus. Nicolas burst through the fabric door, panting and dripping with sweet.

Henry jumped “for gods sake Nicolas, you almost made me spill my tea over everything! I swe-“ Nicolas cut him off, practically yelling. “I found something, none of that matters anymore.” Tara, a young but bright student of Colin, who himself was the de facto “leader” of the expedition, spoke up. “That box…it shares the same designs as the ruins we unearthed last month. Is that..?” Nicolas cleared the table, and put the box down carefully. “I think it is”.

Colin was silently studying the box, comparing the designs with the tracings they’d taken at the ruins. “This may be a replica, Testiclus wasn’t popular, but if you knew the right people, you could sell an “artifact” from his reign and never have to work again. But…these are disturbingly accurate.” Henry approached. “Should we open it?”

118, supposedly 1 year into the reign of Hadrian, Rome

“To whoever may read this, I am Marcus Julius Testiclusian, who reigned as Testiclus. I tell you this because my name will be erased from the annuls of history, my hometown burnt to the ground, and my children slaughtered. I was lord over the Eternal City. I brought peace to many savage tribes. I gifted the lower class with my holy presence. I gave many men sons of a higher class than their own. I was gracious, yet they damn me.

What is life without death? What is food without starvation? What is joy without misery? They don’t see this, they see only their trivial matters. Still, some are loyal. I will give this to a guard, in the hopes that my memory will be preserved. My ultimate victory. My last act as ruler. My last decree. Let it be known.”

“You’re all a bunch of cocksuckers. Fuck all of you. Suck my testiclus.”

1908

“That’s…you must be joking.” Tara said.

“Unfortunately, I am not. I’ve been doing these translations for years.” Colin said, still examining the millennia’s old papyrus. Nicolas couldn’t help but laugh.

“2 years in the Roman son, digging and searching, and we finally find evidence…it’s better than evidence, we find a hand written note from the Emperor himself. And he makes a joke about his name at the end.” He sat down, still lightly laughing at the idea. “No one’s going to believe us. We wasted our time here.” Henry threw his flask to the ground in anger, before sitting next to Nicolas.

Nicolas looked over at him. “It wasn’t a waste, we all know now, without a shadow of a doubt…”

“That the mysterious forgotten Emperor of Rome was a petty little bitch.”

Thanks, what an awesome thing to say. Then do it! You're a writer as soon as you start. Its not about publishing, or even posting. If its fun and you have something to say, then say it I say.

Hopefully see you around on a prompt response in the not too distant future.

Have a great holidays, however that looks for you!

I wish someone would make this into a webtoon. I’d totally read it. Why’s he called Doctor Apocalypse tho?

Holy crap this is amazing and horrifying and I love it

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Thanks!

I was inspired

This is excellent. ^^

Croc was on his way out when Gil walked in. Two of the most powerful men in the region, who’s respective factions, the Waterrunners and the Trailmen, had been at war for a decade, simply nodded at each other as they passed. I smirked, they knew better than to do anything here.

I remember the day all this started. Ironically enough, my wife was on the way home from our daughters daycare when the earthquakes began. They never made it back, one of many others lost to a bottomless ravine. Once I was sure the ground was still, I made left my concrete cellar and waited for Maggie.

After an hour the realization set in.

After a week I left my ruined home, a shabby mess of a man, because I needed supplies.

After a year, I had somewhat recovered, and found new meaning in a lost 6 year old child I returned to her small shantytown nearby.

After 5 years, I repaired and converted my house into a place where people could leave their kids as they searched for supplies.

After 20 years, I was responsible for nearly every child that resided in a 5 mile radius.

That takes us to today. Gil smiled at me, and reached out his hand. “Hey Gil” I said, shaking it “Bobbi’s in the wash-“ then, the ground shook like it did all those years ago.

The floor gave way, and I fell into an abyss of darkness. I didn’t scream.

My only thoughts were of the dozens of children who were in that place with us.

holy f***

​

Great writing. But my goodness.

Fourteen cats seemed like a good round number. Loth had just enough kibble in the giant bag he carried to fill each bowl with the appropriate amount.

Gar, an orange tabby he'd rescued from a garbage bin meowed in protest at the amount.

Loth bent over and hissed. "The vet says you're getting too fat. Don't blame me."

He stood upright, the bones in his back popped like fireworks. He wasn't sure if being a lich made his back hurt more in the bitter cold but it didn't help. He missed flesh some days. Or rather he missed the memory of warmth.

With the last of the food gone he'd have to bike into town or the rest of his cat herd would resort to murder and there were some very tasty looking kids in the suburb that had sprung up near his cottage several years ago.

Loth put on his heaviest robe and a pair of pink mirrored sunglasses. He had just enough magic left for a mirage spell. People saw a wizened old man with a hump and a shuffling walk. He added a multicolored scarf he'd knitted last winter to the ensemble.

He rode on his ancient red Schwinn, his robe a billow of black behind him. The closest town wasn't much of a town. Just a few stores and a post office. He went to Maggie Cooper's general store because she stocked the organic food his horde of kitties demanded.

He waved to her as he pondered a pink mouse cat toy. Goober or Gary might be into it. He heard a gasp from somewhere behind him and turned to see an old woman staring at him with her hand over her mouth. Her face was haloed in wrinkles, leaving only two small black eyes.

"Mishko Velnias?"

Loth looked down and away. "You are mistaken madam."

"No please. I have paid the price. I have sacrificed so many. But you never answered me," she sobbed.

He'd gone deaf to prayers ages ago and had been thankful for the silence. So many voices all saying the same thing: I want I want I want.

Loth shrugged. "I am not the one you named." He shuffled to the counter with his bag of cat food and one single orange. Maggie raised her eyebrows at him as the old woman followed him, pleading and crying.

"Lois, do you want me to call your grandson?" she asked the old woman.

"No, I want him to give me what he's supposed to," she yelled back. Her eyes were red and swollen as she pulled at Loth's robe.

He felt his image flickering, sputtering as his worshiper tore into him. His eyes glowed red. His horns sprouted, dripping with red. He roared and she cowered, kneeling at his feet.

"Please," she whispered.

He reached with his spirit, pulling hers free from her withered body. Her soul, black and liquid, funneled into his open mouth.

He left her body on the floor, taking his sack of kibbles and his orange. The bell on the door heralded his exit.

When he got home he touched the orange with his bone fingers, imbuing it with a tiny piece of the old woman's soul. The orange split, sprouting a small sapling bud in his palm. He would plant it next to the other fruit trees the cats liked to climb.

I like the implication that the narrator caused the End before becoming a children keeper.

[Poem]

The invasion seemed a sure win, Our airforce strong and true, But then he came, a jolly kin, "Ho Ho Ho" his greeting new.

Merry Christmas, he did say, But to us, it was a curse, For many of our comrades lay, Their fate in his hands, immersed.

Saint Nick, he was called, A force against all war, Our air wing, he mauled, Leaving us to question more.

For Santa hates all violence, He fights to spread love and cheer, So we'll retreat, let peace commence, Another year, another battle, my dear.

The Achathreytens’ initial strike had been a resounding success. Jets swatted like gnats. An aircraft carrier toppled like a toy. The humans were hopefully outmatched: outnumbered, outgunned, outwitted.

But the second wave hadn’t reported back. The third managed to broadcast a short, strangled sob. Fearing that the fourth might go AWOL, the Commander had called a halt on the invasion until such a time as she could recalculate matters.

But Xavtar the Destructor had heard about the Armada’s recent defeat, and so he had travelled to the Sol system with his personal retinue: giga-dreadnoughts crewed by the elite of the elite, ceremonial guards who were themselves so prodigiously talented and respected that they were afforded the rank of captain.

Broadcasting on all channels, Xavtar had announced his intent to turn Earth’s oceans red with the blood of its children. Then… abject silence. Since then, he’d been unavailable to contact.

“That’s because he’s dead,” said the aide-borg, detecting the Commander’s query.

“What?”

“Xavtar. They found him in an airlock with a lump of black sedimentary rock shoved down his throat and another one stuck in his…”

“Why wasn’t I informed?!” The Achathreyten Commander demanded. “Xavtar was a platoon unto himself!”

The aide-borg turned a holopage. “As I recall, you said you didn’t want to hear anything else about Earth’s mystical bullshit.”

The Commander exhaled. “You’re saying that his death was somehow connected to the Nicholas myth.”

“Not a myth,” someone muttered.

The Commander whirled towards the wider deck, glaring around for the culprit. “Who said that?”

“I did,” said a tech in the pit. “I said Nicholas isn’t a myth. I saw the Claus. I was on repair duty on the Defensible Escalation. I saw his dreadful Reign-Beasts rampage through the whole cruiser! Tore through it like paper!”

“Guards, have this man thrown in the brig.”

A guard crawled up through a floor hatch, scooped up the technician, and dragged him down into the depths of the ship.

The Commander nodded, satisfied, and turned back to her aide-borg.

“Now then. If we have quite finished wasting time on—”

The aide-borg was gone.

The Commander looked around, expecting to find him in the worker pit, or perhaps on the terminal balcony, but the bridge was now entirely empty. Defiantly void of crew.

Then she heard the laugh. It was a strange laugh, more like the performance of laughter than the real thing.

When she turned around, a rotund, smiling human was standing uncomfortably near. She reeled back, reached for her sidearm, but it was gone.

“You’re on the list,” said the old man, rosy cheeked and jolly.

The Commander staggered backwards, desperately seeking a weapon. Santa was broad and tall for a human but still shorter than the average Achathreyten. Yet the Commander flinched away from him, cringing and shrinking like an anemone prodded with a stick.

“It’s not well known, even back home,” Santa Claus continued conversationally, “but there are degrees to the list. I warn. I might even punish. And very occasionally, I take away the naughty’s ability to do harm altogether.”

Part of the Commander wanted to try clawing him, or stabbing him with her tail, but another part of her, the part that was sharp and instinctual and had brought her to the top of the food chain… well, that part told her that she was stood before an apex predator. A monster.

“You’re not real!” the Commander yelled, as if a suitably outraged protest would force him to agree. “You’re a backwater planet’s half-assed attempt to entertain its brats! You’re a myth!”

“I have inspired myths,” said Santa Claus. “They tend to be somewhat watered down, but I wouldn’t want to scare the children. And to me…”

Santa cracked his knuckles.

“You are all children.”

“We are an empire of stars,” the Achathreyten Commander croaked, forcing the words out. “Our Armada could surround your sun! We control a thousand worlds!”

“So did the Atlanteans. Heard of them?”

“...no?”

“Exactly.” Santa’s eyes flashed the same colour as his cheeks. “Be better, or be forgotten.”

Nobody knew me unless I allowed them to. It's not out of any particular need for anonymity. It's just because that's the way I am.

When I fight crime, they call me Reversal. Well, I called myself that--when I was younger, I cared a bit more about staying under the radar, and it dampens your dating life a little when men find out the petite, cute blonde they want to take home at the end of the night is actually a superhero who kicks ass and takes names during her lunch break. I guess it challenges their masculinity or something.

So I called myself Reversal and kept my power on low burn all the time. Anytime someone tried to get to know me, my power would force them the other way. In the end, those walls meant to protect me only succeeded in keeping out the good ones and letting the scumbags in.

When I finally figured out that those kinds of men aren't even worth my time, I gave up the ruse. I took off the mask. I updated my online dating profile with my superhero name in parentheses right there next to my real name. "Alicia Landrew, a.k.a. Reversal, accountant by trade and butt-kicking crime-fighter in my time off!"

The funny thing was, though, that no one believed me! For the longest time, they thought it was a joke! And admittedly, it took a while for me to fully dropkick that old habit of keeping my reversal powers on low burn out of my life, but even then, most of my friends just said, "Uh-huh, yeah, okay, sure, Li, you're a superhero."

"Yeah, Joan, my face is literally plastered over every news article!"

"Oh, right, I did get a push notification about that this morning. Cool, bro. Hey, are we still on for lunch later?"

I guess all we really see truly is nothing more than what we want to see.

I suppose that's why I agreed to meet up with Matthew. In the old days of masking my identity, I might have been very suspicious of getting a match with the one guy in the city who looked very, extremely, uncannily similar to the visor-clad supervillain Quantum Malice terrorizing the city in recent weeks. Surely, I once would have thought, this means he discovered my identity and is trying to get close to attack!

But I let my guard down. With the whole world basically responding with one gigantic shrug to my virtual unmasking, I didn't think very hard about the possibility of Quantum Malice attacking me through a dating app. He probably wouldn't believe I'm a superhero, either, right?

So I agreed to meet up for cakepops. Because, "I'll get you coffee, if you want, but I'm not a coffee fiend, myself." The way he had said it was just cute enough to intrigue me, plus I'd never been asked out for cakepops before, so I went. The city's greatest superhero, going on a date with the city's newest supervillain.

And later, its worst, most destructive, most notorious supervillain.

Matthew was a troubled soul.

And that's when I finally admitted to myself my sheer stupidity, the flaw with being a superhero in the dating game. Now, the villains I faced were not just villains. They were people.

It completely changed how I approached heroism. Because I could not just defeat Matthew in combat. I could not lay a hand on him. I loved him.

I loved him.

I absolutely, wholly, truly, wonderfully, loved my archnemesis.

And that's how I fought him. I loved him. Every date, every conversation, every late night sharing secrets, I loved him. Every part of him.

Did he know that I was Reversal? Of course--I never hid it. Did he believe it? I think so. I truly think so. And that drew me to him, too. He believed me. And I know he believed me because he chose me as his archnemesis. He, as Quantum Malice, rose up against me, as Reversal, at every turn.

And finally, people began to see. Once we gave them something to look at, they began to watch. Hero Reversal and Villain Quantum Malice, veritable gods eternally clashing in an endless dance of good versus evil!

He had to have known all along, he had to have believed me, because he would not have aided in giving me a name otherwise.

And he always, always, let me win.

That was how I knew he loved me. He stopped being a supervillain for just himself. He used it to support me, never hurt me. He loved me, and it made him a better person.

And I like to think he made me a better person, too, even if he did not know it. I no longer cared about whether everyone else believed I was a superhero. He knew, and he cared, and I realized that was all I wanted.

Did he know I knew he was actually the supervillain Quantum Malice? I highly doubt it. He would not have kept up the charade if he had. But that was okay.

Because the son of a bitch finally got his act together and proposed.

John Wick

The rain was falling all night, forming puddles on the patio. Water drifted through the curtains, forcing me to step carefully as I pursued the vista I adore. The sun hadn’t fully risen, but daylight prevailed. Lingering puddles reflected the deep blue of the sky, glimmering bits of light that might have been stars or ripples. Familiar rooftops greet me, alleyways that I’d seen a thousand times and yet no more. The fountain with its mismatched stones of red and yellow, where I’d spoken with so many. No blood tied us together, but still I spoke with these citizens fondly. Petyr the fisherman complaining about his rival, Anna the weaver who spoke of her son who served as a guardsman, and others. “Surely they didn’t all wish death upon me. They seemed to speak with love.”

The sky had gone to fire when I turned. I strode across the patio with a heart not unmoved. Through the blackness searching for some comfort that I often found here. Dripping across the room I walked, squinting my eyes at the vague shapes that came into view. This tomb was well-adorned I must admit, but lacking in substance. My golden chalice filled with red wine that lie untouched. “Fitting.”

A parchment sat upon my desk, where I might write weighty words for the blind. A waste of ink.

“Igneous the Vain, last of his name”

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Someone has yet to learn that they Exalted as a Sidereal.

I writte this in my last moments in the hope of not being forgotten. That someone in the future will find this and I will be remembered.

Febris Milus was my name, and if they were successful will never have heard of me

I was not the best emperor, neither the worst. Sadly most of my decision however were not well acceped by my peers, I lost several battles, and for my merciful nature I was considered weak. I told them, however great Rome is we can't expand forever, the empire grows poorer and more fragile by the day. One should not by more than he can chew... but the greed and the pride is too high amongst the romans, the people are contempt in Panis at circienses, the generals are cotempt in they glory in battle, even if most of them are in the past, as a empire we should have grown not only in size, but in means, in agriculture... construction, we expand and forget about the places that already are a part of this empire.

My father was a great ministry that taught me everything I know, and he was hanged. Now so will I.

I have divided the pages of a book and will insert this note here in a book they would never dare to burn or desacrate.

I am Febris Milus and I did my best for my people on the 5 years I resided emperor of the grear Roman empire.

[removed]

I had never been a productive member of society before the End. Time changes us all, as they say, and after a fashionable time off spent digging myself out of a pile of concrete, I came to the realization that the world had changed, and so did I.

The daycare was, at first, more an orphanage than a daycare. I gathered little survivors who had lost their parents. At first they were afraid, and they cried, but surviving the worst had made me a new man. I had gained patience and empathy, two traits I never though I possessed. One by one, they came to accept me as their foster parent.

After a fashion, some of their parents who they though dead found my little orphanage. They came to me with humble gratefulness and took back their kid. Some of them I never saw again, yet most of them came back on a regular basis. Everyday, during foraging and warring hours, raiders, nomads and techno-barbarians started using my services as a keeper. A children keeper.

There must be a word for that job, but I never bothered to learn it. Yet I did it splendidly. My orphanage slowly morphed into a daycare. My daycare became a haven of peace in a wasteland otherwise known for it's murderous ghouls, barbarians and mutants.

The parents would thank me, at first sheepishly, then earnestly. Mortal enemies would sometimes meet while on my ground, and they would ignore one another. Everybody came to know that the daycare was a new form of holy ground. A place of peace in a brutal world.

I still had to keep them in line from time to time, though. All children keepers must know that kind of parent:

"Mister Longshot? May we have a chat? I've heard little Wink speak ill of Tadpole's parents. It lead to a nasty fight between them."

"It has?"

"Yes. I could convince them to make peace after a while, so all is good, yet... could you please keep the warmongering talk outside of your kid's life, at least for a couple more years?"

"I, uuuh... yes, for sure. I'll be careful for now on. Thank you for letting me know."

"Thank you... who?"

The warlord shrank a little bit. Although being in my shadow, he started sweating.

"Thank you, Doctor Apocalypse. Thanks for everything."