Brandon Jones
March 3. 2025
The Blacksmith; Part 2 (Subplot)
The trio moved cautiously through the dimly lit hallway of the New York City campus. Adult Anne Boonchuy, with her trusty tennis racket in hand, led the way, her eyes darting nervously from side to side. Adult Sasha Waybright followed closely; her sword ready, while Miles Morales, in his spiderman suit, brought up the rear, his senses on high alert.
The air was thick with tension, and the faint sound of whispers seemed to echo from the walls. As they approached the food court, the lights began to flicker ominously, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor. Suddenly, the lockers lining the hallway started to open and close on their own, the metallic clangs reverberating through the silence.
"Stay sharp, guys," Miles whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise. "This demon could be anywhere."
Adult Anne nodded, gripping her racket tighter. "Let's find this fish demon and put an end to this haunting once and for all."
Adult Sasha smirked; her eyes gleaming with determination. "Bring it on, Rolando. We're not afraid of a little ghost story."
An eerie laughter echoed down the hallway, sending chills down their spines. Anne, Sasha, and Miles exchanged uneasy glances before sprinting towards the cafeteria food court. The laughter grew louder and more sinister with each step.
Bursting through the entrance, they skidded to a halt in the large, dimly lit room. The tables and chairs were eerily empty, and the flickering lights cast long, dancing shadows. At the far end of the room, was a figure that made their blood run cold.
It was the campus principal—or at least, it looked like him. But his eyes glowed an unnatural shade of green, and his smile was twisted into a grotesque grin. The laughter continued to pour from his mouth, echoing off the walls.
"Welcome, students..." the principal said, his voice dripping with malice. "I've been expecting you."
Anne tightened her grip on her racket, her heart pounding in her chest. "Rolando," she hissed. "Show yourself!"
The principal's form shimmered and distorted, revealing the true shape of Rolando—a grotesque, fish-like demon with scales that glistened in the dim light. His eyes were cold and calculating, and his laughter turned into a low, menacing growl. "You think you can stop me?" Rolando sneered. "This campus is mine now."
Sasha stepped forward; her sword gleaming. "Not for long," she declared. "We're here to send you back where you came from." Miles then crouched, ready to spring into action. "Let's do this," he said, his voice steady.
Rolando's evil laugh continued to echo through the cafeteria, growing louder and more menacing. Shadows began to blanket the room, creeping around Anne, Sasha, and Miles like living tendrils. Anne swung her racket, trying to dispel the darkness, but her vision quickly clouded. "Anne!" Sasha shouted, but her voice seemed to fade into the distance. Anne felt herself being pulled away, her surroundings warping and twisting. When her vision cleared, she found herself standing in the middle of a destroyed city. The sky was dark, filled with thick clouds of smoke, and the air was heavy with the scent of ash and decay. She looked around in horror as Frog bots marched through the ruins, their metallic feet clanging against the broken pavement. The once vibrant city was now a wasteland, a grim testament to King Andrias's victory. "No... this can't be real," Anne whispered, her heart sinking. "This is the future if we had failed."
The Frog bots moved with mechanical precision, their red eyes scanning the area for any signs of life. Anne's mind raced as she tried to process the devastation around her. She knew she had to find a way back to her friends and stop Rolando.
"Stay strong, Anne," she muttered to herself, clenching her fists. ''I can still change this.''
Anne spun around just in time to see Rolando's grotesque form lunging at her. But before she could react, his powerful punch connected with her chest, sending her spiraling into a dark abyss. She felt herself falling, the darkness swallowing her whole, until she hit the cold, hard floor of the food court with a painful thud. Rolando's cackle filled the air, a chilling sound that made her skin crawl. "Awh, Poor, little Anne," he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Always trying to be the hero, but never quite good enough, are you?"
Anne's heart pounded in her chest as she desperately looked around, trying to locate the source of his voice. The shadows seemed to close in on her, and she could feel her insecurities bubbling to the surface. Anne then clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "You're wrong," she said through gritted teeth. "I won't let you get into my head."
Rolando's laughter grew louder, more sinister. "Oh, but I already have, haven't I? The Core still haunts your mind, doesn't it? Those dark thoughts, those fears—they're always there, lurking in the shadows. You can't escape them."
Anne took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I won't let you win," she declared, her voice firm. "I may have doubts, but I won't let them control me. My friends are counting on me, and I won't let them down."
The shadows seemed to waver for a moment, as if Rolando's grip on her mind was weakening. Anne knew she had to stay strong, to fight back against the darkness. She couldn't let Rolando's words break her spirit. As Anne stood her ground, the shadows around her began to coalesce into a familiar form. Her heart sank as she recognized Marcy Wu, still possessed by the Core, clad in her menacing metal suit. Marcy's eyes glowed with a sinister light, and an evil cackle escaped her lips as she revealed an ignited scythe in her hand. "Marcy..." Anne whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and sorrow. Marcy's diabolical smirk widened as she approached, the scythe crackling with energy. "Oh, Anne," she said, her voice a chilling blend of Marcy's and the Core's. "You can't hide from what's inside of you. The darkness, the doubt—it's all there, festering beneath the surface." Anne's grip on her racket tightened, her knuckles turning white. "I won't let you control me," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. The Core laughed through Marcy, the sound echoing through the room. "You think you can resist? You're just a scared little girl, trying to play the hero. But deep down, you know the truth. You can't save everyone. And you won't save yourself..."
Marcy's possessed form then lunged forward, the scythe slicing through the air with deadly precision. Anne raised her trusty racket to block the Core's scythe, but the ignited blade sliced through it effortlessly. The force of the blow sent her sprawling backwards, sliding across the cold floor. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched the Core, still in Marcy's form, approach her with the scythe raised for another strike. Just as the scythe was about to come down, a swift kick landed on the Core's back, sending it stumbling forward. Anne looked up to see Miles Morales, who had swooped down just in time to save her. The impact caused the Core to morph back into Rolando, who struggled to regain his footing. "Nice timing, Miles," Anne said, scrambling to her feet. Miles nodded; his eyes locked on Rolando. "We've got this, Anne."
Sasha stepped forward; her sword gleaming as she joined Miles. "You're not getting away this time, Rolando." Rolando then snarled, his form flickering between the demon and the possessed Marcy. "You think you can defeat me? I can taste every single fear that you three all have combined! You cannot run from what is in inside you forever!''
Sasha reached into her holster and pulled out another sword, handing it to Anne. "Here, you'll need this," she said, her eyes filled with determination. Anne took the sword, nodding gratefully. "Thanks, Sasha." The trio exchanged a determined look, then charged at Rolando, who had shapeshifted back into the Core. The Core's eyes glowed with malevolence as it wielded the ignited scythe, ready for battle. The heroes moved in unison, their movements fluid and precise. The Core swung the scythe with deadly accuracy, but Anne, Sasha, and Miles dodged each attack with agility and skill. The clang of metal echoed through the room as swords clashed against the scythe, sparks flying with each impact. Anne's heart pounded in her chest as she parried a blow, her mind focused on the fight. She could feel the strength of her friends beside her, their determination fueling her own. They were a team, and together, they could overcome any obstacle. The Core let out a frustrated growl, its attacks becoming more frantic. "You can't win!" it snarled, its voice a twisted blend of Marcy's and the Core's. "We'll see about that," Miles retorted, his movements swift and precise as he landed a kick to the side of the Core's abdomen. The core stumbled and lost its grip on the scythe. The weapon clattered to the floor as the Core shapeshifted back into Rolando, who turned around just in time to see a mysterious sling ring portal form behind him. From the portal stepped Doctor Strange, Iron Spiderman, and Archangel Steve Rogers. The trio exuded an aura of power and determination, their presence filling the room with a sense of hope. Rolando's eyes widened in shock as Archangel Steve Rogers raised his angelic spear. With a swift and precise throw, the spear pierced through Rolando's back, pinning him to a nearby wall. The demon struggled, his form flickering between his true self and the possessed Marcy as black blood began to drop down to the floor. Doctor Strange approached the pinned Rolando, his eyes narrowing with determination. "Who sent you?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the room. "Who is behind this?"
Rolando's form flickered, his strength waning as he struggled to speak. With his dying breath, he managed to rasp out, "The Antichrist... He has sent me. He will cloak himself as a righteous faith leader... to the world. He will earn followers... and plunge the world with principalities of darkness... like never before. The sin of every man... will soon be revealed and they will bask in the antichrist's glory as they are now free...'' Anne, Sasha, and Miles then exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Rolando's warning pressing down on them. They had faced many challenges, but this new threat was unlike anything they had ever encountered. "We have to prepare," Doctor Strange said, his voice resolute. "This is far from over..."
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Back in the high heavens, Tony Stark, clad in his Iron Man suit, strode confidently through the gleaming halls of the High Palace of Jesus Christ, the King of all Kings. His suit's advanced sensors scanned the surroundings, taking in the celestial beauty and divine craftsmanship that adorned the palace. As he approached the armory, Tony couldn't help but marvel at the intricate designs and the aura of power that emanated from the structure. The armory's towering doors were adorned with symbols of divine strength and protection. With a determined push, Tony opened the doors and stepped inside. The armory was a vast chamber filled with heavenly weapons and armor, each piece radiating with a holy light. In the center of the room stood Zeratha, an exorcist angel with a commanding presence. Her wings shimmered with a radiant glow, and her eyes held a fierce determination. She was the blacksmith of the Exterminators, the group of angels sent down to depopulate hell. As Tony approached, Zeratha's golden, angelic eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who are you, and what are you doing in this armory?" she demanded, her voice firm and authoritative. Before Tony could respond, a figure appeared at the entrance. It was Adam, the leader of the Exterminators, also known as the Dickmaster, accompanied by his companion lute. Adam's presence was imposing, and his eyes were filled with a sense of authority. "Zeratha," Adam said, his voice resonating through the armory. "This mortal man is a fuckin' intruder. He wasn't found in the Book of Life. He and his weird buddies walked through the pearly gate...and they attacked me and Lute!"
Zeratha's expression then hardened as she raised an angelic-crested sword at Tony. "Explain yourself, mortal..." she commanded. Tony tried to keep a friendly attitude, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. ''Hey now, look, I'm just here to ask you a couple of questions...''
But before he could say more, more angels flew down, surrounding him. Their wings created a barrier of light, and Tony felt the weight of their suspicion pressing down on him. He was then placed in chains, the celestial bindings glowing with divine energy. Tony raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his composure. "Well, geez, I thought we were friends..." he said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and amusement. Adam stepped forward; his gaze unwavering. "You will be taken to see the Lord Father himself. He will decide your fate, fuckin' tin man...''
With that, the angels led Tony through the grand halls of the High Palace, the chains clinking softly with each step. Despite the gravity of the situation, Tony couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the divine surroundings. He knew that whatever happened next, he had to stay true to his mission and prove his intentions.
Iron Man enters the majestic throne room of Jesus Christ, his eyes widening at the sight before him. The room was bathed in a divine light, and at the center, a high platform floated with a golden throne. Jesus Christ, the King of all Kings, sat upon it, looking down upon a line of kneeling exorcist angels, the Exterminators, who honored his holy name. Adam then pushed Tony Stark forward, causing him to stumble slightly. As Tony regained his balance, Jesus Christ rose from his throne, his presence radiating power and grace. Sera, the seraphim, swooped down gracefully to stand next to the king of all kings, her wings shimmering with celestial light. The chains around Tony Stark's wrists dissipated, freeing him from their divine hold. Jesus Christ's gaze was piercing as he looked down upon Tony. "Why are you here?" the Lord Father demanded, his voice resonating through the throne room.
Tony took a deep breath and stepped forward; his resolve unwavering. "I come with a request," he began, his voice steady. "The armory holds powerful angelic weapons, and we need them in the living realm. Demons have revealed themselves on Earth, and we need every bit of your artillery or weaponry to fight against them...' Tony Stark pointed. Lute and Adam then exchanged disapproving glances, their expressions stern. They clearly did not approve of Tony's bold demand. But to their astonishment, Jesus Christ raised a hand, signaling for silence. He was willing to hear Tony out. "Speak," Jesus Christ then commanded, his eyes fixed on Tony.
Tony kept his gaze. ''The world is in danger.'' He spoke. ''There is a darkness coming that we cannot defeat. So, I am asking for the power of the high heavens to fight against it. We need weapons from your armory to protect the living realm, whatever it takes. I mean, we can negotiate a deal. Anything. We can sign a paper or...''
The throne room fell silent as everyone awaited Jesus Christ's response. The King of all Kings considered Tony's words carefully, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he spoke.
"Your request is bold, Tony Stark," Jesus Christ said, his voice calm yet powerful. "But the threat you speak of is grave. The living realm must be protected. I will grant your request but know this: the responsibility that comes with wielding these weapons is immense. Use them wisely."
''Thank you...' Tony Stark smiled, doing a little bow of his head. Adam's eyes then widened in disbelief as he processed Jesus Christ's decision. He threw his hands up in the air, his voice rising in a comedic meltdown. "What? So that's it? You're just going to let him fuckin' use the best weapons that we have?" he exclaimed, his tone a mix of frustration and incredulity.
Jesus Christ turned his calm, authoritative gaze towards Adam. "Adam, restrain yourself and your attitude..." he commanded, his voice firm yet gentle. "This is not the time for discord...''
Adam huffed, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath. "I just don't get it," he grumbled. "First, he's a fuckin' intruder, and now he's getting the best weapons in our armory? What kind of dumbfuck shittery is that?''
Zeratha then stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder. "Trust in the Lord's judgment, Adam," she said softly. "The man is doing the lord's work. After all, we are all on the same side that he is. It wouldn't hurt to spare some of our weapons away to those who need it the most...''
Adam sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine, fine," he conceded, though his expression remained skeptical. "But I'm keeping an eye on you, fuckin' tin man...'' Adam returned his gaze to Iron Man. Tony then nodded and smiled; his demeanor respectful. "Fair enough...''
Adam and Lute began to fly away, flabbergasted over the sudden decision. The avengers might have an upper hand over the ever-looming possibility of a war. But the work to prepare for it was far from over...
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Emily the Seraphim walked through the bustling sidewalks of New York City, her disguise that of a pretty, brown-skinned girl with striking blue irises. The cold weather had everyone bundled up, and Emily was no exception, keeping close to herself in a warm jacket. As she navigated through the crowd, her eyes caught sight of a homeless person sitting by a bench. Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket and spared the last of her change, dropping it gently into his cup. A soft smile of gratitude from the man warmed her heart.
In the distance, Emily's gaze was then drawn to the towering statue of Steve Rogers, Captain America, standing proudly in the garden. The sight of such an iconic hero brought a sense of calm and inspiration, reminding her of the strength and resilience that even the most ordinary-looking individuals on earth could possess.
As Emily continued her walk, she noticed a mysterious man standing near the statue, wearing a black cap over one eye. Intrigued, she approached him. The man, none other than Nicholas Fury, gazed up at the statue before noticing Emily's curious expression.
"Hey, What's your name?" Emily asked, her voice soft but inquisitive.
"Fury. Nicholas Fury," he replied, his voice deep and authoritative. "And you are?"
Emily hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. "I'm from... Eldoria," she said, naming a fictional country she had just invented. (that was a close one...)
Fury nodded, seemingly unfazed. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a slow drag. "So, what brings you here, Eldoria?" Emily then glanced up at the statue, ignoring the question. "Who is he?" she asked, genuinely curious. Fury's gaze followed hers to the towering figure of Captain America. "That's Steve Rogers, Captain America," he began, his tone shifting to one of reverence. "He was more than just a soldier; he was a symbol of hope and resilience. When the world was on the brink of destruction, he stood tall. He made the ultimate sacrifice to stop Thanos from annihilating half of the population on Earth. His courage, his unwavering sense of duty, and his willingness to lay down his life for others... that's what makes him a true hero."
Emily stood in awe, marveling at the fact that humans, despite their flaws, were capable of such goodness and heroism. But a pang of sadness struck her as she thought about the angels back in heaven, who, despite their divine nature, often failed to show the same compassion and selflessness. Earth was a fallen, chaotic world plagued by death and sin, yet it was here that true acts of heroism shone the brightest. "Tell me more about Captain America," Emily asked, her curiosity piqued. Fury took another drag from his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. "Steve Rogers was a member of the Avengers," he began. "The Avengers were part of an idea... to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when they were needed to, to fight the battles others couldn't..."
Emily listened intently, her eyes wide with wonder. "And who came up with this idea?"
"Phil Coulson," Fury replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "He believed in the potential of these individuals, in their ability to rise above their differences and unite for a greater cause. It wasn't just about their powers or abilities; it was about their hearts, their courage, and their willingness to sacrifice for the greater good."
As they stood in silence, a taxi pulled up to the curb. Fury glanced at Emily, extending his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Eldoria...''
Emily shook his hand, feeling the strength and warmth in his grip. ''It was nice meeting you...Fury''
With a nod, Fury stepped into the taxi. As it drove off into the distance, Emily watched until it disappear from sight. She turned back to the statue of Captain America, a smile spreading across her face. Taking a deep breath, Emily pulled her jacket tighter around her and melted into the crowd...
(To be continued...)