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Bard's Poor Attempt at a Combined Marvel/DC Universe (an ongoing project)
Posted on 9/6/20 at 4:24 pm
Posted on 9/6/20 at 4:24 pm
Like many comic book fans I've pondered the thoughts of a combined universe. How would it start? WHEN would it start? Who would change? Who would be the same? How would characters interact? What would be the new friendships? The new rivalries? How would this force characters to change?
So many questions with so many answers, especially when you consider those answers will often change depending on who you ask.
This is my attempt at putting my own unique spin on it since it's likely we will not have such a literary beast in our lifetimes (unless Warner or Disney buys the other out). I can't promise as to how often I'll be updating it nor can I promise that it will always (or even rarely) meet literary standards. Some of my ideas might come across as "OMGZ that's AMAZEBALLS" whereas some will probably come across as sacrilege. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.
So many questions with so many answers, especially when you consider those answers will often change depending on who you ask.
This is my attempt at putting my own unique spin on it since it's likely we will not have such a literary beast in our lifetimes (unless Warner or Disney buys the other out). I can't promise as to how often I'll be updating it nor can I promise that it will always (or even rarely) meet literary standards. Some of my ideas might come across as "OMGZ that's AMAZEBALLS" whereas some will probably come across as sacrilege. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.
This post was edited on 9/13/20 at 8:34 pm
2
Posted on 9/6/20 at 4:26 pm to Bard
***NOTE*** In the first few entries I was trying to stage it as a textualized version of reading a comic book. It failed. Horribly. I moved on to a more traditional presentation but am leaving these up as a way for me to remind myself what works/doesn't and to track my overall progress.***
In The Beginning
The scene is of Uatu, the Watcher, standing in his base on the Moon with the Earth on a large monitor behind him.
"I am Uatu, the Watcher. Before the Earth was even formed my people had taken an oath to observe the known universe and record the notable events therein. Unless it becomes apparent that events are leading to the calamity that originally befell our world over a billion years ago, we do not act. We watch."
On the screen what appears to be a small meteorite is hurtling toward Earth as Uatu continues.
"On the screen behind me is your home, Earth. As you measure time it is April 18, 1896 and the object falling toward your planet is the herald of the dawn of a new age."
The next panel is a closer view of the fiery object, we see that it's a small rocketship. The next panel shows us the interior where a small infant with black hair sleeps peacefully.
Uatu adds, "The Age of Heroes".
In The Beginning
The scene is of Uatu, the Watcher, standing in his base on the Moon with the Earth on a large monitor behind him.
"I am Uatu, the Watcher. Before the Earth was even formed my people had taken an oath to observe the known universe and record the notable events therein. Unless it becomes apparent that events are leading to the calamity that originally befell our world over a billion years ago, we do not act. We watch."
On the screen what appears to be a small meteorite is hurtling toward Earth as Uatu continues.
"On the screen behind me is your home, Earth. As you measure time it is April 18, 1896 and the object falling toward your planet is the herald of the dawn of a new age."
The next panel is a closer view of the fiery object, we see that it's a small rocketship. The next panel shows us the interior where a small infant with black hair sleeps peacefully.
Uatu adds, "The Age of Heroes".
This post was edited on 8/30/22 at 8:56 am
Posted on 9/6/20 at 4:52 pm to Bard
The scene is a wide shot of a farmhouse surrounded by fields. The field in front of the farmhouse is in the process of being plowed by a lone man and his horse, behind them the field ends at a forest. He appears to be taking a break and speaking to another man, this one is on horseback.
"Getting an early start on the plowing, eh Jonathan? At the rate you're going you may well be planting already when everyone else is still plowing."
The man resting against his plow is looking at the man on horseback. "From your lips to God's ears, Sheriff."
The view changes. We see a woman walking from the house toward the two men. She's carrying a large pitcher in one arm and a small, blanket-wrapped child in the other. "Good morning, Sheriff. Is everything alright? If I had known you were out here I would have brought a cup for you."
The sheriff stutters. "I... Martha? Jonathan? I had no idea you two were expecting a child! When did this happen?"
The couple shares a look then Jonathan responds with a grin. "Well... it was a long Winter y'see..."
The sheriff smiles and waves it off, "Say no more. I figure I'll run into lots of new parents as I check on folks out this way.
Speaking of checking on things, I was out at the Hubbards' place yesterday and they said they something about a loud bang they thought came from this direction a couple days ago. You folks know anything about it?"
The scene switches to a much wider view of the field, now we can see the forest as well. We see that just a hundred or so yards in the forest is a small impact crater.
Jonathan responds, "No sir, haven't heard a thing".
"Getting an early start on the plowing, eh Jonathan? At the rate you're going you may well be planting already when everyone else is still plowing."
The man resting against his plow is looking at the man on horseback. "From your lips to God's ears, Sheriff."
The view changes. We see a woman walking from the house toward the two men. She's carrying a large pitcher in one arm and a small, blanket-wrapped child in the other. "Good morning, Sheriff. Is everything alright? If I had known you were out here I would have brought a cup for you."
The sheriff stutters. "I... Martha? Jonathan? I had no idea you two were expecting a child! When did this happen?"
The couple shares a look then Jonathan responds with a grin. "Well... it was a long Winter y'see..."
The sheriff smiles and waves it off, "Say no more. I figure I'll run into lots of new parents as I check on folks out this way.
Speaking of checking on things, I was out at the Hubbards' place yesterday and they said they something about a loud bang they thought came from this direction a couple days ago. You folks know anything about it?"
The scene switches to a much wider view of the field, now we can see the forest as well. We see that just a hundred or so yards in the forest is a small impact crater.
Jonathan responds, "No sir, haven't heard a thing".
Posted on 9/6/20 at 5:39 pm to Bard
We see a slightly older Jonathan Kent sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Clark, who is now a young man, is eating what appears to be breakfast across the table from Jonathan. The headline on the front of Jonathan's paper is about Germany's invasion of Belgium. Martha is in the background at the stove.
"I tell ya, Martha, no good can come of what's going on over there. I hope to God we stay out of it."
Clark looks up, "but Pa..."
Jonathan puts his paper down. He wears glasses to read now, he looks over the top of his glasses at Clark. "No, son. We've had this discussion. It doesn't matter how tough, strong or fast you are. You might be able to pull that plow all by yourself and do the fields in half the time a team of horses and plows could, but that doesn't make you bulletproof.
And what do you think your dying would do to your mother and I? Or if not us, what about Lana?"
Clark looks down at the remnants of his food. "Yeah, I guess so. I just hate feeling like I could be making a difference in the world but instead I'm just sitting here doing nothing."
Martha has come to the table with her meal and has sat down. She's looking at Clark. "You saved Lana from drowning, that made a difference. Had you been off flying around the world you wouldn't have been around to help your Pa with the farming once his heart started going bad. You wouldn't have been around to save Lana from drowning... you're doing plenty of good right here, son. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting ready for your day with Lana? I thought you were going to meet her in town later?"
Jonathan has resumed reading his paper. From the other side of it he says, "While you're there ask Lewis if he's gotten any more news over the telegraph about Europe."
"I tell ya, Martha, no good can come of what's going on over there. I hope to God we stay out of it."
Clark looks up, "but Pa..."
Jonathan puts his paper down. He wears glasses to read now, he looks over the top of his glasses at Clark. "No, son. We've had this discussion. It doesn't matter how tough, strong or fast you are. You might be able to pull that plow all by yourself and do the fields in half the time a team of horses and plows could, but that doesn't make you bulletproof.
And what do you think your dying would do to your mother and I? Or if not us, what about Lana?"
Clark looks down at the remnants of his food. "Yeah, I guess so. I just hate feeling like I could be making a difference in the world but instead I'm just sitting here doing nothing."
Martha has come to the table with her meal and has sat down. She's looking at Clark. "You saved Lana from drowning, that made a difference. Had you been off flying around the world you wouldn't have been around to help your Pa with the farming once his heart started going bad. You wouldn't have been around to save Lana from drowning... you're doing plenty of good right here, son. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting ready for your day with Lana? I thought you were going to meet her in town later?"
Jonathan has resumed reading his paper. From the other side of it he says, "While you're there ask Lewis if he's gotten any more news over the telegraph about Europe."
Posted on 9/6/20 at 6:03 pm to Bard
Clark and Lana are walking down a street, holding hands. Lana is looking at Clark. "I still don't understand how your flying works, Clark."
Clark looks around quickly then at Lana, "Not so loud. You want people to think you're crazy again?"
Lana is smirking at Clark as holds the gate to her yard open for her, "Well they wouldn't have ever thought that if you had shown them how you scooped me out of the river instead of telling everyone I must have imagined it due to lack of air from almost drowning."
Before Clark can respond a man comes out of the house, worry is apparent on his face. Clark asks, "what's wrong, Mr. Lang?"
"News just came over the wire. Germans sunk a British luxury liner named Lusitania. Over a hundred Americans were on it! I know people haven't been wanting to get involved over there but this is too far! TOO FAR! Watch out, son, I need to put out some papers."
Clark and Lana watch him go. Lana has shock written on her face, Clark has grim determination on his. Lana turns to see Clark's expression, she touches his shoulder gently. "Clark, no. Please don't..."
"Lana, I have to."
Clark looks around quickly then at Lana, "Not so loud. You want people to think you're crazy again?"
Lana is smirking at Clark as holds the gate to her yard open for her, "Well they wouldn't have ever thought that if you had shown them how you scooped me out of the river instead of telling everyone I must have imagined it due to lack of air from almost drowning."
Before Clark can respond a man comes out of the house, worry is apparent on his face. Clark asks, "what's wrong, Mr. Lang?"
"News just came over the wire. Germans sunk a British luxury liner named Lusitania. Over a hundred Americans were on it! I know people haven't been wanting to get involved over there but this is too far! TOO FAR! Watch out, son, I need to put out some papers."
Clark and Lana watch him go. Lana has shock written on her face, Clark has grim determination on his. Lana turns to see Clark's expression, she touches his shoulder gently. "Clark, no. Please don't..."
"Lana, I have to."
Posted on 9/10/20 at 5:11 pm to Bard
quote:
News just came over the wire. Germans sunk a British luxury liner named Lusitania.
Are you fricking high or something?
Posted on 9/10/20 at 5:26 pm to Bard
Try and do it with actual cartoons like a web-comic. Its too difficult to picture what is going on like this.
If you can draw try and just do something simple or maybe use some like photoshop thing to clip other images in since you aren't selling it.
If you can draw try and just do something simple or maybe use some like photoshop thing to clip other images in since you aren't selling it.
This post was edited on 9/10/20 at 6:52 pm
Posted on 9/11/20 at 12:12 pm to Sneaky__Sally
quote:
Try and do it with actual cartoons like a web-comic. Its too difficult to picture what is going on like this.
If you can draw try and just do something simple or maybe use some like photoshop thing to clip other images in since you aren't selling it.
I wish I could draw. I can't even do decent stick men.
If time ever permits I might try to see if I can Photoshop something together (thanks for the advice!) This is all a work in progress as I try to figure out how I want to present it (currently it's an annoying mish-mash of storyboard descriptions for panels and trying to write the actual story).
Posted on 9/11/20 at 1:24 pm to Bard
Although he enjoyed flying he had never done much of it due to fear of being seen. Over the last week he had pushed himself more than ever before but even as he did so he learned new things. He learned that flying was a bit like walking or running in that the more he did it, the better he got at it. He could go faster, farther and had better control than he had just a week ago! He also learned that navigating the world was much easier from higher altitudes (he was just glad no one had been there to see him get lost over the open expanses of the Atlantic Ocean) as well learning that higher altitudes did not impact him at all.
One day he would find out exactly how high he could go but for now he needed to rest a few minutes. He had nearly not made it to the British Isles before falling gracelessly out of the sky and into an empty stretch of woods in what he eventually learned was Wales. From there he had checked his map before making a series of short, quick flights in a roughly eastward direction in what felt were more like long hops than actual flying. He knew was pushing himself far too hard, but he simply couldn't help himself. He could make a difference, he could save lives and he knew it! He just needed to make one more hop and then he would rest... maybe.... after the one after that.
As the sun rose he found himself falling into an alley somewhere in some city he hoped was London. He stood, then leaned his back against a wall to catch his breath, closed his eyes -just for a moment- then slid down the wall and passed out.
One day he would find out exactly how high he could go but for now he needed to rest a few minutes. He had nearly not made it to the British Isles before falling gracelessly out of the sky and into an empty stretch of woods in what he eventually learned was Wales. From there he had checked his map before making a series of short, quick flights in a roughly eastward direction in what felt were more like long hops than actual flying. He knew was pushing himself far too hard, but he simply couldn't help himself. He could make a difference, he could save lives and he knew it! He just needed to make one more hop and then he would rest... maybe.... after the one after that.
As the sun rose he found himself falling into an alley somewhere in some city he hoped was London. He stood, then leaned his back against a wall to catch his breath, closed his eyes -just for a moment- then slid down the wall and passed out.
Posted on 9/11/20 at 4:27 pm to Bard
Bard,
I'm enjoying this so far.
If you don't mind a couple of editorial notes?
I would drop the exclamation point here.
From there he had checked his map before making a series of easterly directed, short, quick flights that felt more like long hops than actual flying.
As the sun rose he found himself falling into an alley somewhere in a city he hoped was London.
I'm enjoying this so far.
If you don't mind a couple of editorial notes?
quote:
He could go faster, farther and had better control than he had just a week ago!
I would drop the exclamation point here.
quote:
From there he had checked his map before making a series of short, quick flights in a roughly eastward direction in what felt were more like long hops than actual flying.
From there he had checked his map before making a series of easterly directed, short, quick flights that felt more like long hops than actual flying.
quote:
As the sun rose he found himself falling into an alley somewhere in some city he hoped was London.
As the sun rose he found himself falling into an alley somewhere in a city he hoped was London.
Posted on 9/11/20 at 4:52 pm to Bard
It can just be the characters in a generic background with dialogue. Also you will want to revise your dialogue a couple times to cut the number of words in half or more so it reads fast.
Ive been listening to a writing podcast the last few months that has a web comic on it so have picked up a couple tips.
ETA: if you want to try and go the comic route that is. Just a suggestion that may fit what you are going for
Ive been listening to a writing podcast the last few months that has a web comic on it so have picked up a couple tips.
ETA: if you want to try and go the comic route that is. Just a suggestion that may fit what you are going for
This post was edited on 9/11/20 at 4:54 pm
Posted on 9/12/20 at 3:40 pm to Green Chili Tiger
Thanks for the constructive input, I'm definitely taking notes. 
If I don't make those edits it's only because I want to be able to eventually look back and see my progress.
If I don't make those edits it's only because I want to be able to eventually look back and see my progress.
Posted on 9/12/20 at 3:44 pm to Sneaky__Sally
quote:
It can just be the characters in a generic background with dialogue. Also you will want to revise your dialogue a couple times to cut the number of words in half or more so it reads fast.
Ive been listening to a writing podcast the last few months that has a web comic on it so have picked up a couple tips.
ETA: if you want to try and go the comic route that is. Just a suggestion that may fit what you are going for
As I am progressing through this I think I'm going to drop the attempts at describing the panel layout I see in my mind and go with a more traditional approach. If I stick with it to the depth of wanting to put visuals to it I am definitely going to look back on this for advice.
Posted on 9/12/20 at 4:30 pm to Philzilla2k
quote:
Are you fricking high or something?
Hey dude, instead of downvoting correct you historical frickup, The Lusitania sank over a year after Germany entered Belgium.
Posted on 9/13/20 at 6:14 pm to Philzilla2k
quote:
Hey dude, instead of downvoting correct you historical frickup, The Lusitania sank over a year after Germany entered Belgium.
1. Your previous post was less than concise as to what your prattling was referencing. All you did was quote the sinking of the Lusitania then hurl an insult that would have been weak on the OT in 2005.
I'm open to constructive criticism (as evidenced by my replies to others in this very thread). What you offered was neither constructive nor a criticism, it was the blitherings of someone with low communication skills who was bitter over... something.
If you want to have your input considered seriously then don't present it as would some 13-year-old from a broken home taking his aggressions out over Call of Duty because mommy is drunk-fighting in her bedroom again with Uncle Landlord.
TL;DR - If you want your input to be taken more seriously than my downvoting it then forgetting it, do better.
2. News did not travel at the speed it does today. It could take weeks for a story to make it to somewhere as rural as Smallville and even longer for that news to disseminate to those miles outside the town.
3. It was an old paper. It's not like paper boys on bicycles had delivery routes that took them to farms 10-20 miles outside the town, especially down unpaved roads.
And if those points aren't enough for you then ponder this little gem: it's a work of fiction soooo...
This post was edited on 9/13/20 at 6:19 pm
Posted on 9/13/20 at 6:42 pm to Bard
Clark was surprised from his sleep by cold water crashing down on him from above. From the stench he quickly realized it wasn't just water. He glanced up in time to see an old woman glaring down at him.
"Oi! Get a move on! Find somewhere else to sleep it off, ya sot!"
He decided it was good advice so he made his way out of the alley and onto the busy street nearby. To his right the street rolled on between more and more buildings, to his left the road ended at a river just two blocks away. From the looks of passersby and their attempts to avoid him it became apparent to Clark that the odor from his impromptu dousing wasn't just strong to him, but to passersby as well. If he wanted to be able to get information on where he could be of most use in the war he would first need to not smell like an outhouse.
A breeze coming in from the river didn't give him much hope for getting any cleaner by going there so he went down the street to his right. Eventually he came to a small pond nestled within a park. Seeing no other choice plunged into the pond then made his apologies amid the gasps of the nearby ladies and the laughter of their children as he began cleaning himself off as best he could.
As he washed off the offending matter he realized why the old woman had thought he was a drunken lout sleeping off a night's carousing (aside from his sleeping in the alley, that is). The impact of travelling thousands of miles at what he could only guess was at least a hundred miles per hour had loosened the seams and worn the edges of his clothing considerably. What had been a well-kept pair of pants and shirt now had the wear and tear of something that had been worn every day for years with little to no mending. He would need to find new clothes or else he would end up fighting in little more than his underclothes.
He would also need a map and some idea of where fighting was taking place. It was one thing to know there were ships warring in the Mediterranean or troops fighting in Poland, it was another to find them. His eyesight had become better than that of an eagle, recently he found that if he concentrated in a certain manner he could even see through clothes, walls, even a person in one instance. His eyesight wasn't good enough to see around the curvature of -much less through- the Earth though. He had begun a mental list, he needed a map of Europe and a new set of clothes.
He made quick work of cleaning himself off then left the pond and approached a pair of ladies who had been watching him with amused bewilderment. "Pardon me, ma'am... ma'ams, but which way is the nearest place I could get a decent bath?"
"Oh! You're an American," one responded as both took women took on knowing expressions. "If you have American money you'll need to exchange it for Pounds at a bank. After that the nearest place with available rooms you could afford will be three blocks east of here called 'The Push and Pull'. It doesn't look like much from the outside but the prices should hopefully be quite within your reach and the rooms are clean and neat. There is a bank directly across the street from it."
"Thank you, ma'am. Ma'am," he nodded to each in turn then headed in the direction she indicated. He grinned a little ashamedly when he heard their giggles as he walked off. Yawning, he turned his thoughts away from how he must still look (and smell) toward keeping an eye out for someplace to get a meal.
That thought, the realization that he was hungry, almost made him stop in his tracks. Clark had not known hunger nor thirst for at least the last five years.
His mother had noticed it first. In the beginning she thought he was sneaking snacks when she wasn't in the kitchen. He still wasn't sure which was more stunned when she finally confronted him and they realized he hadn't eaten nor drank anything in five days. It wasn't that he was ill nor even tired, he simply wasn't hungry or thirsty any longer. Ever since then he made sure to eat and drink at least a little something when with his family to put them at ease and when he was out in public with others so as to not raise concerns.
He yawned as he continued on his way. Being out in the sun had always made him feel more energetic, more alive. Today's walk in the sunshine made him feel a little better but not by much. This along with how tired he still felt and his appetite concerned him. He had pushed himself far more than he had realized. Although he knew he could be out there saving lives, he also now understood how desperately he needed rest.
Everything was exactly as the young lady at the park stated and the rest of his day went by in a blur. He had eaten, gotten a new set of clothes, gotten a room, a decent-looking map, bathed and was already fast asleep as the sun set on his first full day in London.
"Oi! Get a move on! Find somewhere else to sleep it off, ya sot!"
He decided it was good advice so he made his way out of the alley and onto the busy street nearby. To his right the street rolled on between more and more buildings, to his left the road ended at a river just two blocks away. From the looks of passersby and their attempts to avoid him it became apparent to Clark that the odor from his impromptu dousing wasn't just strong to him, but to passersby as well. If he wanted to be able to get information on where he could be of most use in the war he would first need to not smell like an outhouse.
A breeze coming in from the river didn't give him much hope for getting any cleaner by going there so he went down the street to his right. Eventually he came to a small pond nestled within a park. Seeing no other choice plunged into the pond then made his apologies amid the gasps of the nearby ladies and the laughter of their children as he began cleaning himself off as best he could.
As he washed off the offending matter he realized why the old woman had thought he was a drunken lout sleeping off a night's carousing (aside from his sleeping in the alley, that is). The impact of travelling thousands of miles at what he could only guess was at least a hundred miles per hour had loosened the seams and worn the edges of his clothing considerably. What had been a well-kept pair of pants and shirt now had the wear and tear of something that had been worn every day for years with little to no mending. He would need to find new clothes or else he would end up fighting in little more than his underclothes.
He would also need a map and some idea of where fighting was taking place. It was one thing to know there were ships warring in the Mediterranean or troops fighting in Poland, it was another to find them. His eyesight had become better than that of an eagle, recently he found that if he concentrated in a certain manner he could even see through clothes, walls, even a person in one instance. His eyesight wasn't good enough to see around the curvature of -much less through- the Earth though. He had begun a mental list, he needed a map of Europe and a new set of clothes.
He made quick work of cleaning himself off then left the pond and approached a pair of ladies who had been watching him with amused bewilderment. "Pardon me, ma'am... ma'ams, but which way is the nearest place I could get a decent bath?"
"Oh! You're an American," one responded as both took women took on knowing expressions. "If you have American money you'll need to exchange it for Pounds at a bank. After that the nearest place with available rooms you could afford will be three blocks east of here called 'The Push and Pull'. It doesn't look like much from the outside but the prices should hopefully be quite within your reach and the rooms are clean and neat. There is a bank directly across the street from it."
"Thank you, ma'am. Ma'am," he nodded to each in turn then headed in the direction she indicated. He grinned a little ashamedly when he heard their giggles as he walked off. Yawning, he turned his thoughts away from how he must still look (and smell) toward keeping an eye out for someplace to get a meal.
That thought, the realization that he was hungry, almost made him stop in his tracks. Clark had not known hunger nor thirst for at least the last five years.
His mother had noticed it first. In the beginning she thought he was sneaking snacks when she wasn't in the kitchen. He still wasn't sure which was more stunned when she finally confronted him and they realized he hadn't eaten nor drank anything in five days. It wasn't that he was ill nor even tired, he simply wasn't hungry or thirsty any longer. Ever since then he made sure to eat and drink at least a little something when with his family to put them at ease and when he was out in public with others so as to not raise concerns.
He yawned as he continued on his way. Being out in the sun had always made him feel more energetic, more alive. Today's walk in the sunshine made him feel a little better but not by much. This along with how tired he still felt and his appetite concerned him. He had pushed himself far more than he had realized. Although he knew he could be out there saving lives, he also now understood how desperately he needed rest.
Everything was exactly as the young lady at the park stated and the rest of his day went by in a blur. He had eaten, gotten a new set of clothes, gotten a room, a decent-looking map, bathed and was already fast asleep as the sun set on his first full day in London.
This post was edited on 9/15/20 at 3:33 pm
Posted on 9/15/20 at 4:04 pm to Bard
Clark woke to the mid-morning sun peeking through the curtains of his room. He felt refreshed and re-energized. With that extra energy he also felt anxious to be on the move again.
He slicked back his hair, dressed, then grabbed his few possessions as he headed out the door. He had debated on leaving his old, threadbare clothes but had changed his mind at the last minute.
Clark's meal the night before had been in the hotel's common area. The crowd had seemed lively and he had picked up plenty of good ideas on where he might be of use in the European theater. He had met an elderly Frenchman there last night, a friendly man from the Artois region of France who was also new to London. Unlike Clark, he was running from the war. He hoped to see him again and thank him for the information before he left.
At the bottom of the stairs he saw the man, Jean Pierre, sitting in the same corner as he had the night before. This morning he looked to be enjoying some soup and bread. He smiled then waved cheerfully when he saw Clark. Clark returned the smile and began making his way across the room when he stopped to make note of a curious sound. With his enhanced hearing he was picking ups some sort of... whistling. He looked back at Jean Pierre in time to see fear dawning on his face as he now heard the sound as well. Before Clark could begin to understand the man's fear, he was hurled from his feet as the building exploded.
He slicked back his hair, dressed, then grabbed his few possessions as he headed out the door. He had debated on leaving his old, threadbare clothes but had changed his mind at the last minute.
Clark's meal the night before had been in the hotel's common area. The crowd had seemed lively and he had picked up plenty of good ideas on where he might be of use in the European theater. He had met an elderly Frenchman there last night, a friendly man from the Artois region of France who was also new to London. Unlike Clark, he was running from the war. He hoped to see him again and thank him for the information before he left.
At the bottom of the stairs he saw the man, Jean Pierre, sitting in the same corner as he had the night before. This morning he looked to be enjoying some soup and bread. He smiled then waved cheerfully when he saw Clark. Clark returned the smile and began making his way across the room when he stopped to make note of a curious sound. With his enhanced hearing he was picking ups some sort of... whistling. He looked back at Jean Pierre in time to see fear dawning on his face as he now heard the sound as well. Before Clark could begin to understand the man's fear, he was hurled from his feet as the building exploded.
Posted on 9/17/20 at 11:52 am to Bard
Bard, I'm really enjoying this so far.
Keep it up.
Keep it up.
Posted on 9/18/20 at 12:06 pm to Bard
The explosion didn't hurt him, which surprised him slightly. He knew he was tough, taking a mule's kick directly to the face back on the farm had taught him that. He didn't have to much as even a slight scratch. The second kick taught him that if he braced himself such an impact couldn't budge him unless he allowed it. Unfortunately he hadn't been braced for the bomb that had destroyed the Push-n-Pull.
The blast had come from behind him, sending him hurtling through the stone wall across the room from him, through the storage room behind that, through the storage room's far wall and into the wall of the building across the next street.
He got up quickly, looking back the way he had come with the intent of going back in to get survivors. His heart sank. Where the three-story build had once stood was now nothing more than a pile of rubble. Nothing of it remained intact, not a window, not a wall, not even a portion of a wall. He risked a concentrated look with his enhanced eyesight to the spot where he guessed Jean Pierre had been sitting.
He quickly looked away, wishing he hadn't looked there in the first place.
He heard more whistling sounds. Lots more. Now that he was outside he could tell they were coming from somewhere above him.
Clark shot into the air, pulling a trail of dust upward behind him. He hovered a couple hundred feet above the city and watched as dirigibles, flying well above him, dropped bombs on the city. A bomb like those is what had just killed Jean Pierre and no telling how many others in just the hotel. He looked upon the smoking piles of rubble where buildings once stood, where lives were just snuffed out with the uncaring nonchalance of absentmindedly swatting away a mosquito, and he felt an anger come upon him. No, more than that... he felt rage!
Without conscious thought Clark sped upward to the nearest dropping bomb. He didn't try to catch it, he didn't try to stop and punch it, he was going on pure anger and instinct now. He simply put his fists ahead of himself and simply flew through it.
He was ready for the incredible explosion this time, he would not be moved. Not again. He used his momentum to carry himself to (and through) the next bomb, then the next, then the next. No matter how fast and strong he was, some still made it by him. Each one pushed him to move faster, to try harder. He had to be enough to make a difference, he had to!
And then, just as suddenly as the attack had started, it was over. The rain of bombs had stopped and the zeppelins were slowly making their way eastward. Clark vowed they wouldn't make it far.
Before he could pursue a cry for help caught his ears. If there had been others they had been drowned out due to the almost-constant string of explosions as he had been doing his best to defend London. In a quick moment of introspection he wondered if his rage-fueled focus had not helped muffle some of those cries as well. With one last look at the fleeing airships he turned to help those left in the aftermath of the bombings.
Clark zeroed in on the cry as he came out of the sky, the source was a young woman. She was crying as she tried in vain to lift a large slab of stone wall. Underneath the wall a tiny arm was sticking out. As Clark neared he heard the child trapped beneath crying. The child wasn't dead.
He gently moved the woman aside, took her place before the edge of the wall then lifted it with one hand while offering his free hand to the young girl who had been trapped underneath. The girl was stunned at her sudden freedom but only for a second. She quickly jumped up and ran directly to the waiting arms of her mother.
As they weeped tears mingled with equal parts fear and relief Clark used his vision to look deeper into what was left of the house for anyone else, whether they were survivors or... not. Finding nothing he set the wall back down. Before he could turn around the woman was on him, hugging him tightly and continuing to cry while still holding her daughter.
She soon recovered enough to step back and offer a quick, whispered "thank you" between sobs as she continued clutching the child to her. Her tears made lines in the ash and soot that covered them all now, ash and soot that came from the bomb that destroyed her home. A bomb Clark had missed.
At that moment Clark realized two things. The first was that he had thought he would have to go out and find the war, it never occurred to him that the war might find him first. The other was that this wasn't like the stories he had read as a boy. War wasn't glamorous nor orderly, it didn't have rules. War was dirty and ugly, it didn't discriminate in when nor where it struck and it left pain in its wake.
Looking at the devastation around him, looking at the crying woman and her child, he decided he would stay in London for one more day. He would spend the rest of the day helping dig people out of rubble. The day after, nothing could have stopped him from crossing the English Channel.
The blast had come from behind him, sending him hurtling through the stone wall across the room from him, through the storage room behind that, through the storage room's far wall and into the wall of the building across the next street.
He got up quickly, looking back the way he had come with the intent of going back in to get survivors. His heart sank. Where the three-story build had once stood was now nothing more than a pile of rubble. Nothing of it remained intact, not a window, not a wall, not even a portion of a wall. He risked a concentrated look with his enhanced eyesight to the spot where he guessed Jean Pierre had been sitting.
He quickly looked away, wishing he hadn't looked there in the first place.
He heard more whistling sounds. Lots more. Now that he was outside he could tell they were coming from somewhere above him.
Clark shot into the air, pulling a trail of dust upward behind him. He hovered a couple hundred feet above the city and watched as dirigibles, flying well above him, dropped bombs on the city. A bomb like those is what had just killed Jean Pierre and no telling how many others in just the hotel. He looked upon the smoking piles of rubble where buildings once stood, where lives were just snuffed out with the uncaring nonchalance of absentmindedly swatting away a mosquito, and he felt an anger come upon him. No, more than that... he felt rage!
Without conscious thought Clark sped upward to the nearest dropping bomb. He didn't try to catch it, he didn't try to stop and punch it, he was going on pure anger and instinct now. He simply put his fists ahead of himself and simply flew through it.
He was ready for the incredible explosion this time, he would not be moved. Not again. He used his momentum to carry himself to (and through) the next bomb, then the next, then the next. No matter how fast and strong he was, some still made it by him. Each one pushed him to move faster, to try harder. He had to be enough to make a difference, he had to!
And then, just as suddenly as the attack had started, it was over. The rain of bombs had stopped and the zeppelins were slowly making their way eastward. Clark vowed they wouldn't make it far.
Before he could pursue a cry for help caught his ears. If there had been others they had been drowned out due to the almost-constant string of explosions as he had been doing his best to defend London. In a quick moment of introspection he wondered if his rage-fueled focus had not helped muffle some of those cries as well. With one last look at the fleeing airships he turned to help those left in the aftermath of the bombings.
Clark zeroed in on the cry as he came out of the sky, the source was a young woman. She was crying as she tried in vain to lift a large slab of stone wall. Underneath the wall a tiny arm was sticking out. As Clark neared he heard the child trapped beneath crying. The child wasn't dead.
He gently moved the woman aside, took her place before the edge of the wall then lifted it with one hand while offering his free hand to the young girl who had been trapped underneath. The girl was stunned at her sudden freedom but only for a second. She quickly jumped up and ran directly to the waiting arms of her mother.
As they weeped tears mingled with equal parts fear and relief Clark used his vision to look deeper into what was left of the house for anyone else, whether they were survivors or... not. Finding nothing he set the wall back down. Before he could turn around the woman was on him, hugging him tightly and continuing to cry while still holding her daughter.
She soon recovered enough to step back and offer a quick, whispered "thank you" between sobs as she continued clutching the child to her. Her tears made lines in the ash and soot that covered them all now, ash and soot that came from the bomb that destroyed her home. A bomb Clark had missed.
At that moment Clark realized two things. The first was that he had thought he would have to go out and find the war, it never occurred to him that the war might find him first. The other was that this wasn't like the stories he had read as a boy. War wasn't glamorous nor orderly, it didn't have rules. War was dirty and ugly, it didn't discriminate in when nor where it struck and it left pain in its wake.
Looking at the devastation around him, looking at the crying woman and her child, he decided he would stay in London for one more day. He would spend the rest of the day helping dig people out of rubble. The day after, nothing could have stopped him from crossing the English Channel.
Posted on 9/22/20 at 4:54 pm to Bard
Bard's gone George RR Martin on us.
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