Mutants Inc., Volume II

Unrelated stories that take place in a setting besides Star Wars...

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Post by SmokeMare » Fri Jun 22, 2007 11:39 am

Smokemare felt somewhat dazed, tired but rejuvenated. A lot of his negative feelings had gone. His internal moral conflicts had faded. He followed Matrix and the others to the habitation level feeling as if he'd just run a marathon, a tough race, but he'd won...


Meanwhile the black Smokemare, the being of darkness, conflict and negativity swept down through the streets. His thoughts were of confusion, hatred and anger. He settled back at the place he most called home, the old railway bridge where the hoardes of vagrants, resident in the city slept. He'd joined them so many times before...

As he formed solid he saw an familiar face, an ancient war veteran who'd lived under the bridge as long as aonyone could remember, 'old James' they referred to him as, but they called him Jim. He saw Smokemare materialize and approached him, "Smoke, where ya' bin?"

He looked at the shrivelled walking corpse of 'old James' and started to feel hatred for the whole world, this pathetic being who he had been forced to share residence with, in the cold, in the rain... When he had so much power? He could do anything go anywhere... What had held him back? Morality, the pain of right and wrong caused the pain that hindered his use of his power... But now he was free...

He grinned at Jim, a sick look in his eyes, then he glanced over the others shuffling around and huddled around fires in oil drums. He was so much better.... He could destroy them all with a mere thought... In fact he would... And he would go on destroying until he ruled the city... Nothing would stop him, but he wanted to start here...

He squared up to Jim, "I'm no longer called Smokemare... You can call me Nightmare..." With that he exploded into a cloud of thick black smoke, acrid and vile. It washed over the figures huddled together and filled their lungs, soon bodies were falling to the deck in fits of coughing. The stronger ones tried to flee, but Nightmare kept himself in their lungs until each one fell to the floor.

He reformed his job done, then looked at the agonized faces, laying about. He chortled to himself. 'Pathetic...'

After returning to the streets he saw a man standing outside the liquor store, lighting a cigarette, he grabbed the cigarette as it was lit and popped it into his mouth, "You shouldn't smoke..."

The man glared at him angrily and threw punch after punch each one passing harmlessly through. Nightmare formed an arm into smoke and filled his lungs until he coughed himself death, crashing to the floor outside the shop. Laughing softly to himself Nightmare stepped over the corpse into the shop.

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