Character Creation Contest #67 - Amalgam OC's

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cbishop

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Edited By cbishop
Amalgam Comics logo
Amalgam Comics logo

Okay, peeps! It's time for CCC #67, and this time the theme is Amalgam! You probably know how Amalgam works, but here's the rules anyway:

  • You need to make TWO Amalgam characters: one hero, and one villain.
  • Each amalgam must be a mashup of one Marvel character, and one DC character.
  • Please name your original amalgam based on the two characters you mashed up to make it (example: Nightwing + Night Thrasher = Thrashwing [hero], and Lady Vic + The Bengal = Lady Bengal [villain]).
  • You do not have to acknowledge actual Amalgam characters, so if you want the Ameribat and Superwolverine instead of Dark Claw and Super Soldier, then have it!
  • Put your hero and villain in a story together.
  • No word limit for the story.
  • Submit your story to this thread by Friday, November 17th @11:59pm US Eastern time (click the link if you're unsure). That's 2:59pm on the 18th for your Sydney, Australia blokes! :^D
  • All are welcome to compete, and the winner gets to pick the next contest.

Have fun, and see you in two weeks and two days! -cb :)

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@wildvine, will you pin this please, ma'am, and unpin the CCC 66 Voting Thread? Thanks much. :)

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#2  Edited By stumpy49er

@cbishop: Can we do Amalgrams of other universes, instead of DC and Marvel. For example, Luke Picard and Darth Kahn (Star Wars/Stark Trek). I just ask because it seems that DC/Marvel Amalgram have been done quite a lot.

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“Are you awake Steel Bat?”

The Colossus of Gotham snapped awake to the mocking electronic voice; and as he became more conscious pain swept up his leg and ripped across his brain.

“Judging by the scream, that’s a yes!”

“Jokade!”

“Dammit, you guessed! I was hoping the voice modulator and the two inch spike through your leg might make you think I was...well who else would it be?”

Steel Bat looked at shaft through his calf, his analytical brain running scenarios and outcomes. Last thing he remembered he was at stately Rasputin Manor with...

“Kitty!”

“Aw that teen bimbo reporter who was at your house Bruce? Is that who you mean?”

Steel Bat paused. “What did you call me?”

“Bruce. Or do you prefer Brucie? Or Bruciekins? Or when you’re dressed up as just Steel Bat? Bwhahahaha!”

“What do you want Jokade?” Steel Bat snapped as he searched his utility belt to find it all but empty.

“Your head, on a stick!”

“Come out from behind the walls,” he growled in response as he contemplated changing into his metallic form.

“I might be insane but I’m not crazy! I’ve seen you when you go all chromey. It’s sexy but oh so dangerous. So no, I’ll just sit here and laugh at you as I explain my little game...Bruce. Never picked you for a Bruce. Maybe a Peter. Or a Wayne. But Bruce.”

“Where’s Kitty?”

“Good question! Using that steely intellect of yours. Ms Vale sunk through the floor! Which was how I found out about you! Y’see I was just going to kidnap Gotham’s richest playboy, Bruce Rasputin, and dangle him over a tank of something until you arrived to save...”

Bruce scanned the room as the Clown Prince Of Murder World prattled on. Ten by ten, shellac tiles over concrete at a guestimated nine feet thick, possibly an old bank judging by the door, or disused naval base. Speaker in the corner with two motion sensor cameras. Carbonadium spike and chain which oils react violently if he turned into his organic steel form. Some blood loss. And a fire axe resting in the corner.

“...which is why I’ll never barbecue again!”

“You haven’t told me your game, Jokade.” Steel Bat stated as he slowly go to his feet.

“The axe won’t cut the chain, but it will cut your leg. You do that and I’ll laugh myself sick and let you out myself!”

“And Kitty?”

“Weren’t you listening?! Your little mutey crumpet sunk through the floor leading me to your little cave of wonder which is how I know you’re Bruce Rasputin and Steel Bat! She’s probably cowering behind your gauche paintings or the giant penny, and where did you get that? I soo need one of them, just with spikes and maybe a flamethrower.”

“So you left her in my cave with all my toys?” Bruce smirked.

“Um why are you smiling?”

Steel Bat pressed the middle of his utility belt.

“NO! NO! NO! No fair! Calling in your little genetic freak friends is cheating! Fine, you metal mort, wanna break the rules, huh? I’ve just activated the pressure bomb you’re standing on! Step off it and not only do you blow up but you blow up two passenger ferries in the harbour which at this time of night have loads of commuters just wanting to go home. How do you like me now?!”

“I hate you,” Steel Bat replied as he used his cape to bring the axe closer to him. “But I will stop you.”

Peals of shrill laughter echoed through the room. “Oh Bruce, how?”

“By playing by your rules.” He took up the axe and swinging it behind him, split open his calf like an overripe melon. The axe stopped against the carbonadium spike.

“WHAT THE $&@/!!!” Jokade screamed. “You did it! You actually did it!”

Steel Bat pulled his gushing leg away from the spike and changed into his metal form, the wound closing as he collapsed on the floor with a thud. “Now let me out you green haired freak!”

“How is my bomb not going off? That’s the last time I buy Latverian!”

“I fell...two feet to my left, my metal foot weighs as much as I do in human form,” Steel Bat said as he again got to his feet. “The bomb is still active. Now, are you going to let me out or am I coming to get you?”

“Come and get me Bruce!”

Steel Bat gritted his metal teeth and slammed a fist into the ground, cracking like a lobster and removing a handful of wires. He limped forward and shoulder barged a hole through the wall; the white suited orchestrator of Steel Bat’s nightmare stood aghast covered in concrete dust.

“You’re suppose to go through my maze,” Jokade whined, shoulders slumped, lips quivering. Steel Bat cracked his knuckles.

“You best hope my friends arrive soon,” snarled the steel vigilante as he grabbed Jokade by the collar. “For both of our sakes.”

Joker (DC) + Arcade (Marvel) = Jokade, the Clown Prince Of Murder World

Batman (DC) + Colossus (Marvel) = Steel Bat (because Batssus & Coloman are stupid names!)

Kitty Pryde (Marvel) + Vicki Vale (DC) = Kitty Vale, mutant reporter

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#4  Edited By cbishop

@stumpy49er: no, DC and Marvel only. I know it's been done a bunch, but that's part of the challenge- to come up with at least two you haven't seen. ;)

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@cbishop: Can I do a whole team of Amalgam characters?

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@waezi2: The requirement is "at least two... one hero, one villain." So, yes, please have at it if you want to do more. :)

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@batkevin74: Nice first entry. Setting the bar high! :)

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TommytheHitman

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I feel Waezi should get extra credit for a whole team.

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TommytheHitman

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@batkevin74: Cool story Batkev. I’ll have to come up with something cool to compete

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#13  Edited By TommytheHitman

There's a roar in the jungle, one not belonging to a lion or a tiger but to a much mightier beast. It zooms through the trees at speeds unparalleled by man, leaving in its wake not a trail of destruction or smoke, but a path of flowers and life.

"Did you hear that?" Lester Sneedley asks, looking out to the trees and foliage before him with fear hidden behind the large goggles upon his face. The young lumberjack stands amidst his work, surrounded by torn down trees and shards of wood, in his hands lies a powerful buzz saw, yet as Lester sees the trees begin to shift he doesn't feel powerful. Instead he feels very small.

"The only thing I hear is the sound of my lunch break." One of Lester's colleagues says while moving away from the lumberjack site and back towards their original start point where the food truck is waiting. "Come on, boys! Break time!"

There's over a dozen men at work in the area, five lumberjacks and nine security guards tasked with protecting them. It wouldn't be enough to stop a well organised attack from the militias in the jungle, let alone the monstrosity speeding towards them. All of a sudden there's a god awful cry in the air like something dying, drawing everyone's gaze skyward to the trees just as they begin to shake. Then they seem to part, and in their place a black shadow shoots up into the sky, blotting out the sun as a figure known to all descends towards the ground, riding a motorcycle crafted out of leaves and twigs.

The figure slams into the ground with an almighty crack, shaking leaves loose from his vehicle as the being riding the cycle gets to his feet. He was tall, and understandably thin, with a mixture of black and green leaves covering the figure's body like a jacket, twigs sticking from his shoulders like spikes, and a grin on the creature's face which isn't the most unpleasant thing about the monster. There was no flesh on the figure, just chalk white bone to accompany the skull sitting on the creature's shoulders, with several stalks of marijuana sticking from the back of the man's open skull.

All the lumberjacks stared in horror as the figure uncoiled a long green vine which promptly popped out black spikes.

"Break... time..." The skeleton grumbled, voice low as if it was hurting the man to speak.

"It's the SWAMP RIDER!" Lester yelled, and instantly all the guards whipped out the machine guns they knew would be completely useless before opening fire on their bushy target.

Lester and his colleagues covered their ears, dropped their heavy saws and jumped for cover behind the trees they'd been cutting down earlier. The Swamp Rider did no such thing, letting dozens of bullets pass through his body like they were little more than raindrops. The Rider cracked his makeshift whip with a loud, deafening snap and began to walk forward, calmly trailing his weapon behind him along the ground. He took a quick swipe with his whip, and with horrifying ease, severed the heads from three of his attackers.

The bullets kept coming, yet they posed no true threat to this angry servant of nature, who simply swung his whip again and added five more to his rapidly expanding kill list. Now there was just one man left standing, who the Swamp Rider snared with his vine and instantly reeled into his grip.

"Please!" The guard screamed as the Rider's empty eyes stared at the terrified worm squirming in his grasp.

"Have you ever heard a tree scream?" Swamp Rider asked slowly, something beginning to shift and move in his jaw. That something, as the guard would soon learn, was a swarm of flesh eating termites that nested within the Rider's stomach. "It sounds like this." The Swamp Man said before holding his mouth wide open.

The poor man's screams were louder then the gunshots, and when the Rider finally dropped his victim, there was nothing left but bone, and the termites who were now very well fed. It was an image that lumberjack Lester would carry to his grave, which, as the Swamp Rider turned towards the frightened worker, he realized could be coming very soon.

"You!" Swamp Rider melted into the ground and immediately reformed his body next to Lester, who he promptly gripped by the neck and raised into the sky. "You who work for your conglomerate of Evil! You have defiled the Earth like you have defiled your own species! And for this! For this you shall-"

The Rider stopped. His grasp still tight around Lester's throat, but his attention elsewhere. Lester didn't really seem to notice though, he was too busy worrying about his lungs collapsing due to the lack of oxygen.

A ghostly hand tapped the Swamp Rider on the shoulder, shuffling his leaves like a soft Autumn breeze. The hand belonged to the Rider's host, his name was John Holland.

"That's enough." John said sternly. "Let him go."

A growl escaped the Swamp Man's mouth, and he reluctantly, very reluctantly dropped Lester to the ground, who gasped desperately for breath.

"Who..." Swamp Rider said, whip coiling back around his hand like it had a mind of its own. "Who do you work for?"

"The Dark one..." Lester whimpered, snot and drool and tears dribbling down his ugly face. "In that awful, awful city!"

__________________________________

In the city of Gotham, skyscrapers stand tall like blades of grass, casting shadows upon the citizens loom over. Yet none of the city's buildings cast a larger shadow then the sinister Heart Corporation, renowned across the world for its mining of natural resources from Africa to even the Antarctic.

"Disgusting!"

Manifesting from a weed growing in the Gotham sewers, the Swamp Rider watched in dismay as his leaves became damp with the combined filth of over three million people. Instantly the Rider burst through the concrete slab above, summoning different kinds of plant life to tear through the streets, causing all manner of chaos for the commuting Gothamites.

The Swamp Man didn't care. Instead of taking notice of the destruction he wrought, he chose to march straight into the Heart Corp building and went to the reception desk where he was met by an uninterested look from the receptionist who was busy with her crossword.

"Where is he?!" Swamp Rider bellowed, spitting unpleasant gifts from the sewer as he spoke.

"Anton Blackheart?"

"YES!!!"

"Floor Sixty Six."

Immediately the guardian of the Green stormed towards the elevator, where he took note of the music 'Raise a Little Hell by Trooper' playing within the steel chamber and tapped his foot impatiently, not noticing the other passengers or the nervous mutterings escaping their lips. The second the doors opened, Swamp Rider morphed his legs into mud and slid quickly along the floor towards his target's office, hands shaping into hammers made of bark as he raised them above his head.

A metal door, made to look like oak did nothing to halt the Swamp Man's path, and as he stood tall in his foe's office, the Rider caught sight of the one and only Anton Blackheart who was sat patiently behind his desk.

He was an ugly thing, white, greasy hair sprouting from his spud of a face. Years of demonic possession had done Anton no favours, his eyes were yellow like a cat, skin cold and grey like rock, yet still somehow Anton Blackheart was the most beloved billionaire in America besides Bruce Rasputin and Lex Brock.

"Ah. Rider." He said, dressed in a smart tuxedo, using a voice as sharp as glass. "You must be my two o'clock." Anton gestured towards the leather seat across from him. "Can I get you a drink?"

If the Rider still had lips he'd be grinning, a sadistic grin revealing the thoughts of pain and torture he was imagining, instead he simply let his razor sharp vine uncurl to the ground before letting out a loud War cry.

"VENGEANCE!!!" He screamed before charging forward and swiftly decapitating the calm business man who'd so far been nothing but polite.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." Blackheart's severed head sighed from the ground as the Rider plucked it up off the floor and glared at him. He seemed mildly annoyed by the assault, yet was willing to let bygones be bygones. "You ruined my suit. But that's fine. Sit down anyway and pop me back on my body, will you?"

Swamp Rider did neither, he remained standing and chose to place Anton's head neatly on one of the coasters on his desk.

"The Parliament of Trees wants your soul." Swamp Rider growled, swatting at an insect crawling around the inside of his eye socket.

"I haven't got one." Blackheart said, body shrugging almost apologetically. "So... I guess we're destined to do this for awhile."

Immediately Swamp Rider smacked Anton's head off the table and sent it crashing through the window, scattering glass everywhere. A low chuckle escaped the Rider's mouth, only for it to disappear once he noticed Anton's body making the necessary hand gestures for a spell of regeneration. Slowly the man's head sprouted outward from his neck, bald and looking very annoyed.

"That's just rude." Anton said as Swamp Rider cracked his weapon one more time. "I was going to suggest that we work together."

"Never!" Rider screamed, thorns sprouting through the floor as his rage increased. "You butcher Mother Gaia like a pig! You can burn as I'm concerned and you can go to Hell!"

Anton seemed to stop and think about what the Rider had just said.

"No." He finally replied. "I think I'll just bring it here." Then he clicked his fingers.

Swamp Rider looked out to a red sky, populated by flying demons and monsters beyond imagination. He heard the screams from below and he laughed.

He gave a sharp whistle that summoned his bike... and there was the roar of an engine.

-----------------

Swamp Thing + Ghost Rider = Swamp Rider!!!!!!!

Anton Arcane + Blackheart = Anton Blackheart!

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#15  Edited By cbishop

@batkevin74: @tommythehitman: You guys are killin' me! lol I had a Rasputin and Ghost Rider in two of my amalgam ideas. I might use them anyway, but ughhhhh lol. Tommy', nice connection you made to Batkevin's story. ;)

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TommytheHitman

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@cbishop: Thank you! I think I'm getting addicted to making Amalgams because I've created a bunch since yesterday. :/

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batkevin74

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@tommythehitman: When the contest is over, wanna do a Steel Bat/Swamp Rider thing? Plausibly expand this universe

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who the Swamp Rider shared with his vine and instantly reeled into his grip.

Entirely possible that I'm misreading this?

there was nothing left bone,

Typo

In the Dark city of Gotham, skyscrapers stand tall like blades of grass, casting shadows upon the citizens loom over. Yet none of the city's buildings cast a larger shadow then the sinister Heart Corporation, renowned across the world for its mining of natural resources from Africa to even the Antarctic.

Jarring scene transition

summoning all manner of plant life to tear through the streets, causing all manner of chaos for the commuting Gothamites.

All manor of all manor

Immediately the man once known as John Holland stormed towards the elevator, where he hit the correct button within the steel chamber and tapped his foot impatiently, not noticing the other passengers or the funky elevator music playing in the background.

We know his name is John Holland already so this feels exposition-y when in reality you just wanted to say something besides "the Rider" or "Swamp Rider." Personally I would have just said Swamp Rider. Sometimes you have to just get the info out there and move the scene along.

Don't get me wrong, the image of this guy tapping his foot as he rides a crowded elevator is hilarious. I love it. But do we need to know he pushed the right button? Actually you could have added to the joke by having a elevator man ask him what floor he wanted. Really play the absurdity of the moment. The receptionist was chill so it wouldn't break the scene.

Otherwise interesting entry

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TommytheHitman

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@wildvine: Fair points! Am I allowed to edit these once posted?

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#23  Edited By batkevin74
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@tommythehitman: Of course. I wouldn't have suggested any edits otherwise. That would just be douchey

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#26  Edited By cbishop
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#27  Edited By cbishop

Man Without Fear

Mojave Desert

The experimental fighter jet screamed across the desert sky, pitching wildly, setting off just about every alarm the cockpit had, and making the stick all but unresponsive. Matthew Jordan was having the time of his life. "WOOOOOOO! I love this thing! I'll trade you my Christmas bonus for one, Carol!"

His headset squawked, "Matt, you can trade me your next twenty thousand Christmas bonuses if you don't manage to land that bird safely!"

Matt sighed as he wrestled the stick with one hand, and punched a few buttons with the other. "Relax, Miss Romanova, I'll get it back to you in one piece."

"You'd better," came the reply. "There's whispers that Bruce Rasputin has taken up an interest in flying. If Rasputin Enterprises gets into the aviation game, we can kiss most of our contracts goodbye. Romanova Aerospace needs this."

"So land this plane, land the contract?" he asked, the sudden vibration in the plane making it almost sound like he was talking through a fan.

"Something like that," he heard in his ear.

"Then boss lady," Matt said through gritted teeth, straining against the stick, "consider...this...bird...lan-- oh, crap."

"What 'oh, crap?' Why 'oh, crap?' Matt! What's happening?" Carol said excitedly.

"Bad news, boss. The stick just broke off in my hand," Matt said somberly.

"What?" Carol said weakly. "Matt, fire the weapons into the desert floor. If you clear the desert before you crash, there's no telling what that agent they're carrying could do!"

"Gee, I'll miss you too, Carol," Matt said dryly. "Hang on, I'm going to try something."

"Your wing walking days are behind you, Jordan! You fire those missiles and eject! Now!" screamed Carol.

"I've got it! I've got..." Matt's radio went silent.

Page Aerospace

From the control tower, Carol saw an explosion in the desert, followed by a thick plume of smoke. With dread, she gasped, "No. ...Matt."

The comm crackled, "Wasn't me, boss lady! I'm not sure what it was! Maybe Rasputin already had a project in the air?"

"Matt!" she cried happily, followed by, "Don't even joke."

"Hey," Matt said glibly over the alarms still sounding, "he's nothing if not imaginative." There were a few seconds of silence, and then, "Uh, boss, I'm out of tricks here, and running out of desert. I'm going to have to put her down."

"Damn," she whispered. "Turn on your beacon. We'll come get you ASAP."

"Carol, if the rumors are true, give Rasputin a call. He only hires the best."

She laughed lightly, "You should have been a lawyer, you silver-tongued devil."

"That's 'Daredevil.' It even says so on my helmet," Matt said jovially. "But a lawyer? Not in this lifetime! Firing the missiles, and punching out," he called, and then his radio was static.

"Scramble the Rescue and Recovery team," barked Carol. "I want Matt found, and whatever's left of our bird brought back to the hangar!"

"Uh, ma'am?" asked a tech. It was Jim Grimm. "The plane hasn't gone down."

"What?" she asked in disbelief.

"It...it started a descent, but...but it leveled off, and its GPS shows it moving."

"What in... OH MY GOD! The missiles! Have the missiles detonated yet?"

Grimm looked at her with alarm. "No."

"That son of a...he's sold out! Jordan's flying my damned plane and its payload to the competition! Or...or to a weapons buyer! Oh, God! Someone get the FAA and Homeland on the phone!"

"Ma'am?" asked another tech. This one was Frank Kalmaku.

"What? Spit it out!"

"I... I don't think that's right, ma'am. Jordan's beacon is pinging too, and moving in the same direction as the plane, but...he's a good quarter mile behind the it!"

The room froze at that info. "Wh...what did you say?" asked Carol.

Mojave Desert

Matt stared in awe. Six green energy beams of some kind had lanced out from the direction of the column of smoke, grabbing the plane, the four missiles, and him in his pilot's seat. Everything was moving towards the smoke like they were in a tractor beam. "Far... out," was the only thing he said.

As the beams got closer to their source, Matt could see the crash site. Whatever it was, it wasn't a plane. It was definitely some kind of ship. Krexamite, maybe? They hadn't been heard from since the invasion though. Everything lowered gently, but landed with a bump. Matt scrambled from his chair, and ran to the ship. A hole was in the side, so he let himself in, only to see a magenta-colored humanoid alien prone on the floor, leaning against the bulkhead.

The alien beckoned a bit weakly, "Welcome, Matthew Jordan."

"H-how--?"

"Save your questions, and listen. I haven't much time. My name is Abin Stick of the Nova Lantern Corps. Formed by the Guardian Watchers of the Universe, only the most fearless are allowed in our ranks. The ring has chosen you as my successor."

"Me?" asked Jordan.

"Take my helmet. Touch the ring to the lantern. Recite the oath. Become this sector's Nova Lantern. Protect it... from... King... Sin," he said with his last breath.

"A-Abin?" Matt gasped. "Stick? Stick!" he shouted, as the alien's body glowed brightly, then fell to ash, leaving the helmet and ring behind on the floor. Astonished, Matt hesitated, then walked forward, bending over with his hand outstretched to pick up the ring.

Instead, the ring jumped from the floor to his finger, fitting as if it were made for him. Matt found himself clothed in the same uniform that Abin Stick had been wearing, and the helmet was drawn to perch on his head. "No way!" he shouted. He looked himself over, and then at the ring, and said, "Great. What the hell's a King Sin?"

From nowhere, a voice said, "King Sin is the Nova Lantern Corps' first traitor, and self-proclaimed king of Korugatriani." With this info, a beam shot out of the ring, projecting pictures on the wall of the ship to go with it.

The ring is talking to me? thought Matt. "That is the fattest alien I have ever seen. Now I've seen everything," he concluded aloud.

"Negative," stated the ring. "It is all muscle. There is more. Sinfiskro was the best Nova Lantern the Corps had ever produced. He was being trained to replace the elder Abin Stick, against Abin's wishes, but could not wait for the natural time. He made a deal with the Weaponers of the Negative Phantom Zone, producing a yellow ring at least as powerful as the power ring of any Nova Lantern. He declared himself King Sin, and attacked Corpsman Abin Stick, gravely wounding him. Too weak to use the ring properly, he fled in a ship, coming here. Having regained some of his strength in the flight, he used the last of his will to find you and bring you here."

"Yeah," chuckled Matt. "Me and my plane! Oh, man! The plane!" He ran to the hole in the ship, and leapt outside, running for the plane. He started running his hands over the plane as he checked, and noticed he couldn't feel anything. "Ring? Why can't I feel anything?"

"Standard protective forcefield is active," replied the ring.

"Can you lower it?"

"The ring can do anything you will it to do."

"Aghh!" growled Matt. "I don't have time for this!" he blustered, and he pulled the ring off of his finger, putting it in his pants pocket as the Nova Lantern uniform disappeared. Finding that he could feel what he touched again, he ran his hands over the entire plane, checking it like he would a car he'd just waxed. Then he moved on to the missiles. He was on the second missile when he ran his fingers over the nose cone. He leaned in to examine a small fissure he felt, and suddenly it hissed and expelled the agent it carried, hitting Matt full in the eyes. "AHHGHHHHHH!" he screamed before passing out.

Later

Matt awoke, but everything was pitch dark. Darker. It was almost like... "I can't see! My eyes! I CAN'T SEE!" he shouted.

"MATT! I'M RIGHT HERE, MATT!" boomed a voice.

"Carol? Why are you screaming?!" Matt winced, covering his ears. "Why can't I see anything?!"

"I'M NOT," shouted Carol, but she sounded confused.

"IT'S OKAY, MISTER JORDAN!" came another voice. It was Doctor Claire Charles- the Romanova Aerospace chief doctor. "HYPER-SENSITIVITY OF YOUR OTHER SENSES IS NORMAL WHEN YOU LOSE THE USE OF ONE!"

"Lose the use of one?" Matt panicked. "What do you mean? Why are you all yelling? Can you quiet down, please?!"

"Filtering sound levels at a lower decibel rate," answered the ring.

"Was that... your Air Force ring?" asked Carol. "Hey. I've never noticed those numbers on the sides before. What does '2814' and '9602' mean?"

The ring must have disguised itself, thought Matt. "Uh...Corps designations. I can't talk about them though," he said sheepishly.

"Oh," said Carol. "But...it talked?"

"Ventriloquism," laughed Matt. "You know me. Always joking in the face of the unknown. Speaking of which, would someone mind telling me why I can't see?"

Doctor Charles cleared her throat. "Um, Mister Jordan, one of the missiles from the plane ruptured in your face, blinding you. I'm sorry," she hesitated. "The damage is permanent. You'll never see again."

Matt was stunned. "Wha--? But...but that means... I can... I can never fly again?"

"I'm sorry, Matt," came the voice of Carol. "You're taken care of, of course. Romanova Aerospace is covering your medical costs, and your pension plan will--"

"Get out," said Matt.

"Wh-what?" said Carol.

"Get out," Matt repeated. "Please, I need some time alone." When he didn't hear any movement, he shouted, "GET... OUT!"

Footsteps receded as Carol and Doctor Charles left the room, and he heard the door swish shut and click behind them.

Matt was silent for several long minutes, then he said, "Ring? Can you answer some questions?"

"Affirmative, as long as those answers are in the ring's database," responded the ring.

"You said you could do anything?" Matt asked quietly.

"The ring can do--"

"--anything I will it to do. Right?"

"Affirmative."

"Can you... can I... will myself to see again?" Matt asked, his voice a bit shaky.

"Negative. Healing is beyond the ring's capability. The ring's forcefield is nearly impenetrable, most often eliminating the need for any healing."

"And I took the ring off," Matt whispered to himself. "It's my own damned fault." He sat with that thought for a minute, then said, "Can I... alter the uniform?"

"Affirmative. State changes."

"Do you know Earth designs?" he asked hesitantly.

"When Abin Stick's ship reached your moon, all Earth databases were accessed. Any designs contained therein are now part of the ring's database."

"The mask," answered Jordan. "Make it look like a pair of early aviator's goggles, with accompanying helmet."

With a soft green glow, they appeared, altering the mask and helmet, and then turned solid.

Matt touched them tentatively. "Feels right. Can you... can you mimic radar?"

"Affirmative."

Tapping his temples, he said, "Give me a second to bite on something, and then feed the radar signal straight to my optic nerves." Grabbing his pillow, he said, "Now," and stuffed it against his mouth. Tiny green beams, thinner than dental floss grew from the edge of the goggles, lanced into his temples, and seemed to set his eyes on fire. He screamed into the pillow, but managed to not pass out.

It took a minute, but images started to form around him, showing him various green shapes. Matt sobbed with joy, tears forming, but not quite falling. "I can... I can see... sort of. Can you put any definition to the images?"

"Negative. Radar is only capable of showing silhouetted images. Video may yield a more desired result."

Matt laughed. "Video? Ha! Of course! Yes! Try that!"

Suddenly, the green silhouettes of the radar images gave way to video imagery, but it was all still green.

Matt gasped. "Can you... can you do... color images?"

"Affirmative," confirmed the ring, and everything came into sharp focus, in full color as it was supposed to be.

"Amazing," Matt whispered. Then at a normal level, he said, "Now to 'make a miraculous recovery,' and get out of here. I've got to learn what all you can do, and how to stop King Sin."

"I can help you with the ring and King Sin," came an answer, but it wasn't the ring.

The surprise jarred him, and his world went black again. "What?! Oh, will power. Right. Ring. Re-establish video to the optic nerves." Pain lanced into his head again, and his sight was restored. Matt took a few seconds to recover, and then looked to the window. Perched on the sill was a woman with the same alien coloring as Abin Stick, wearing what looked like a red ceremonial garb of some kind, and carrying a couple of bladed weapons at her hips.

I think I'm going to have to save the video sight for special occasions, Matt thought. I don't think I can take that pain all the time. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I was Abin Stick's understudy, and chosen successor. When Sinfisko revolted, I was sent to stop him, and reclaim the ring. It appears that the ring has chosen you as the next Nova Lantern though."

"Yeah," Matt said quietly, "but I'm blind when I lose my concentration. Possibly the most powerful weapon in the universe, and I can't see a damned thing it does. I don't think I can represent the Nova Lanterns like this." He bowed his head, looking at his hands through the video-optic feed, and said, "But... maybe?" he wondered aloud, thinking of his flight helmet, the ring causing it to appear in his hands. Looking at his call sign scrawled across the front of it, he turned it towards the stranger, and said, "How does Devil Lantern sound to you?"

"Strange," she said, "but you are allowed to adjust to your world's customs as necessary."

Matt smiled. "Devil Lantern it is then. Ring? You see these two nubs on my flight helmet?"

"Affirmative."

"Put two right here," he said, tapping the flight helmet the ring had made for his uniform. In response, two small green horns protruded from the helmet, just above the goggles. "Great. And there was an oath? To charge the ring?"

"Affirmative," and the ring recited the oath.

"No," said Matt. "That's no good. I need something that reflects what I've become, and reminds me of how I'll exceed my limitations. Let me think," and after a couple of minutes in silence, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger, he said, "Let's try this: In harshest din, or hush profound, my ears catch evil's slightest sound. Let those who think they've escaped my sight, beware my power: Devil Lantern's light!" With that, the full Nova Lantern costume appeared.

"Ring. Right here? In the middle of the starburst? Put a 'D L.'" The letters appeared, the L slightly lower and to the right of the D. Matt smiled. "That'll do." Looking back to the alien woman in his room, he said, "Okay, miss chosen successor to Abin Stick, you never did say- what's your name?"

Nodding slightly, she answered, "My name is Elektra Tui. Shall we get started?"

*********

Amalgams:

  • Abin Stick = Abin Sur + Stick
  • Carol Romanova = Carol Ferris + Natasha Romanova (Black Widow)
  • Claire Charles, Doctor = Claire Temple (Night Nurse from the Daredevil Netflix series) + Doctor Sarah Charles (Cyborg's girlfriend in the New Teen Titans 1980 series)
  • Devil Lantern = Daredevil + Green Lantern
  • Elektra Tui = Elektra Natchios + Katma Tui
  • Frank Kalmaku = Franklin "Foggy" Nelson + Tom "Pieface" Kalmaku
  • Guardian Watchers of the Universe = Guardians of the Universe + Watchers
  • Jim Grimm = Ben Grimm + Jim (last name unknown- the Ben Grimm knockoff in Hank Henshaw's group of FF knockoffs)
  • Korugatriani = Korugar (Sinestro/Abin Sur/ Katma Tui's homeworld) + Satriani (a planet named in the Silver Surfer 1987 series)
  • Krexamites = Kree + Daxamites
  • Matthew Jordan = Matthew Murdock + Hal Jordan
  • Negative Phantom Zone = Negative Zone + Phantom Zone
  • Nova Lantern Corps = Nova Corps + Green Lantern Corps
  • Rasputin Enterprises - Bruce Rasputin (batkevin's creation) must be the head of Rasputin Enterprises, right?
  • Romanova Aerospace = Romanova + Ferris Aircraft; Romanova Aircraft didn't feel quite right, so I made it R. Aerospace
  • Sinfisko/ King Sin = Sinestro + Kingpin (Wilson Fisk) [GL & DD's arch enemies combined]
  • Weaponers of the Negative Phantom Zone = Weaponers of Qward + Negative Zone + Phantom Zone

Other Notes:

  • 2814 = Hal Jordan's sector of space (Earth space)
  • 9602 = the Marvel designation for Amalgam Earth.
  • Devil Lantern's oath is a variation of the oath for the Green Lantern known as the F-Sharp Bell. FSB was blind, and had no concept of light or colors, so the oath had to be altered, and he took the name FSB instead of GL. I meshed the FSB and GL oaths a little.
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#30  Edited By cbishop

Damn my bad guys. You're right. The deadline is the 17th. What can I say? I got excited. Plus I'm so used to entering at the last minute, I put my entry in, and I figured it must be time lol.

P.S. damn this motber forkin' site and the shot way it works on my phone! Grrr! Fork this site! Seriously!

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stumpy49er

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@cbishop: Ok cool. On the plus side you did help motivate me to write out most of my story.

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batkevin74

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I already entered but got myself an idea based in this slowly expanding verse

-My name is Betsy Laurel Braddock-Lance and today sucks!

It started fine. Coffee. Yoga. Gym session. But now, I’m fighting ninjas in the lingerie department-

Betsy ducked under a sword, then dodged a manriki-gusari strike as she slapped a ninja in the eye with her car keys and groin kicked another.

-I recognise these pyjama wearers as minions of Chesire Black; slutty little ninja minx with claws and poison trying to make it up the ladder of organised crim...-

“HEY!” Betsy yelled as a spear narrowly missed her side but stabbed right through her jacket. “This cost me $300! I think I’d prefer if you cut me!”

-Better end this before they ruin my entire outfit. A little focused totality of my sonic abilities should do the trick-

Betsy let loose her ‘canary cry’, a sonic wail with devastating effects. The localised sonic boom blew the eardrums of the ninja team, taking them down quickly and painfully.

-I’d question them, but it’s pointless for two reasons. One; they’re scared of Chesire Black more than they are of me. Two; no point since I perforated their inner ears.-

Betsy adjusted herself, sighed at the new rip in her sleeve. “I’d make you pay for this but you guys never seem to carry wallets.”

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#33  Edited By stumpy49er

Knight's Gambit

Gotham City, The Creole Quarter

Remy Wayne walked towards the black tie gala event with his usual swagger and his beau, Anna Marie Kyle, on his arm.

“Mr. Wayne, who is the girl?” asked a reporter, Betty Vale.

“You’re not off the market, are you, Remy?” asked another reporter, Vicki Brant.

“Oui, this sha may be de one.” he said as he walked past the reporters into the mansion.

Miss Kyle rolled her eyes at this.

“Remy, you good for nothin cad. We are on a mission here.” Miss Kyle whispered into Remy’s ear. “This isn’t a real date.”

“Aw cher. One day, you will realize your love for good ol Remy.”

“We’re just here to find out who is in Oswald Creed’s gang.” she responded.

“Here’s one now.” He spoke quietly to her, before raising his voice. “Karl Crane. Still working on curing de mutant psyche at Arkham Island?”

Karl Crane, a tall, gaunt, yet handsome man with slicked back, black hair and wire glasses walked over to the Remy and Anna Marie. Darkness seemed to surround him.

“The mutant psycho’s have ravaged this once modest city, Mr. Wayne. I do hope this concerns you and your brethren.” Karl said as he reached out his hand to shake Remy’s.

As they locked hands, Karl began to tremble.

“I must go.” he said, then ran off towards the bathroom.

“What was that?” Remy asked.

“Why did you shake his hand?” Anna asked. “You told me yourself you believe Crane is the Pteror-crow. His powers are similar to mine.”

“Mais la! He can siphon the energy of other mutants.” Remy said. “I’ll go find him.”

“Now, now. Mr. Wayne. Don’t be running off just yet.” Oswald Creed said as he walked up to Remy. He wore a tuxedo, hat and monocle. He was tall, fat, with a slender nose and a mane of blonde hair. Then there were his teeth. Shiny and sharp. He was referred to as Penguin Tooth by the media.

“Oswald.” Remy held out his hand.

“No need for pleasantries, Knight’s Gambit.” Oswald said as he looked into Remy’s eyes. “I suppose this is Rogue Cat? You two always did have a thing for each other.”

Remy Wayne reached into his coat pocket, grabbed a batarang and kinetically charged it.

“Well, I suppose dis means we fight.” Remy said.

“Let me introduce you to my allies first.” he said as he waved his hand at five rogues standing in the middle of the ballroom.

Kyle Crane was standing in the middle, his body began to transform. The crowd panicked as they saw him transform into a man, pterosaur and crow hybrid. Fear began to spread throughout the room and the crowd began running out of the mansion, trampling over each other to get out.

“Ptero-Crow, good of you to join us.” said Oswald. Then he pointed to his right, to a man with a half pale white face and half red, scarred face. “You’ve met Arkady Dent, aka Beta Face.”

Oswald then pointed to a beautiful, caucasian woman none of them recognized. “Miss Raven Isley, can you show us your true colors, please?” asked Oswald politely. Raven’s face changed into a more recognizable one as her skin turned green. “Ah, here she is, Poison Mystique.”

To the left of the group a large, reptilian humanoid wearing a red mask stepped up front. “Let’s skip the introductions and fight already, I have a bath waiting at home and my rubber ducky is getting lonely.”

“Patience now, Dead Crock. What is something you own but is used more by everyone around you?” asked the man standing behind Dead Crock. He wore a green suit and a green bowler hat with a question mark in the middle. His skin was pale white and he had a red diamond in the middle of his fore head.

“A name.” Remy answered.

“The name is Nathaniel Nigma.” the pale man said. “Sinister Riddle to you.”

“We can take them.” Anna Marie said as she pulled a bullwhip out of her purse.

Remy charged up a trio of batarangs. The six rogues began to surround the two heroes, who stood back to back. Suddenly the ground began to shake.

“No. No, no, no. Who invited him?” Penguin Tooth began to complain. “I didn’t want him here.”

A loud stomping noise came from outside.

“Ptero-Crow, was it you?” Penguin Tooth yelled. “You were always friends with him.”

“Dis is no good, chere.” Remy said to Rogue Cat. “I think we both know who that is.”

The wall of the mansion burst in. Debris from it hit Poison Mystique, Beta Face and Dead Crock, knocking them out.

“Hellooo party people. Sorry to crash your party, Penguin Tooth but I heard you had Knight’s Gambit here and you know I can’t resist a good fight with my favorite Dark Cajun.”

The large man sauntered into the mansion. He stood over nine feet tall, wore green and purple armor and had a big red smile painted on his large helmet.

“Jokernaught. Who invited you?” Penguin Tooth asked.

“Here, hold my cane.” Jokernaught said as he threw a slab of concrete into Penguin Tooth’s arms, knocking him down. “Now, where were we. Ah yes. Knight’s Gambit. It’s time for you to.. Eh.. where’d they go?”

Knight’s Gambit and Rogue Cat slipped out the back door during the chaos.

To be continued..

**

Heroes

Gambit (Remy LeBeau) + Batman (Bruce Wayne) = Knight's Gambit (Remy Wayne)

Rogue (Anna Marie) + Catwoman (Selina Kyle) = Rogue Cat (Anna Marie Kyle)

Villains

Juggernaught (Cain Marko) + Joker = Jokernaught

Sabretooth (Victor Creed) + Penguin (Oswald Cobblepot) = Penguin Tooth (Oswald Creed)

Sauron (Kyle Lykos) + Scarecrow (Jonathon Crane) = Ptero-Crow (Kyle Crane)

Mr. Sinister (Nathaniel Essex) + Riddler (Edward NIgma) = Sinister Riddle (Nathaniel Nigma)

Omega Red (Arkady Rossovich) + Two-Face (Harvey Dent) = Beta Face (Arkady Dent)

Mystique (Raven Darkholme) + Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley) = Poison Mystique (Raven Isley)

Reporters

Betty Brant + Vicki Vale = Betty Vale and Vicki Brant

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@stumpy49er: I guessed "Penguin Tooth" before I read the name, but was still surprised that was the name you went with (I don't know why). "Jokernaut" is absolute gold. :)

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@batkevin74: I don't see much of Betsy Braddock in that mashup, but I'm assuming that half is supposed to be Psylocke? I've long been confused on what happened to her.

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@cbishop said:

@stumpy49er: I guessed "Penguin Tooth" before I read the name, but was still surprised that was the name you went with (I don't know why). "Jokernaut" is absolute gold. :)

Penguin Tooth is awful. Couldn't think of anything better. Can't say I love all the names I came up with. Will have to brainstorm. Still a rough draft. I have to think of a good way to end it.

Jokernaught is great. Thanks for the feedback.

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@cbishop: Well Psylocke use to say every time she used her psychic knife “the focused totality of my psychic powers” which I’ve incorporated here.

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@cbishop: Did you use Sinestro twice, or was that a typo or is there a second character by the same name?

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@wildvine: Sinestreye is a combo of DD/GL's arch nemeses, but DD really has two main baddies- Bullseye and Kingpin. So the character's actual name is Sinestreye, but when he usurps Abin Stick, he dubs himself King Sin. Same character reflecting two combos.

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@cbishop: Then you made one character out of three. Didn't know that was an option. Nothing about it in the rules that I see.

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#41  Edited By cbishop

@wildvine: Are you entering this time around? :)

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@wildvine: Yeah there’s like a week to go, let’s see what you got :)

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@stumpy49er: Dude you need to put a: (Character 1 + Character 2 = Amalgam Character) for consistency!

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Life had not been easy for Anna. She had never known her father, and while she had known her mother, she had disappeared before Anna had become a teenager. The meeting of their parents had been a romantic episode that Anna's mother had referred to often, but with few details. Anna's mother was a free spirited wanderer who had met her father in New Orleans, and after a brief affair, he was gone and Anna was born. The only thing that she had known about her father was that he was a black man that was much like her mother, nomadic in nature, with nothing to tie him down in life and leaving no trail behind. Anna's life had seemed normal to her, as she was part of a loving small family with her mother, and as she had known it she had never wanted for anything. Love was always evident, and she needed few material things with such a gift. She had known many fathers, some for short times, others for longer. The longest had been an exiled medicine man of the Navajo, who had taught her some of his secrets, before he too became a person of her past. Her mother disappeared without a trace, while they had been living with a group who Anna would later identify as a cult. Theories abounded about where she had gone, but Anna knew that she had finally gone to find her father.

Abandoned and orphaned soon meant a life on the streets, and that meant a kind of survival that most will never know. She had resisted many of the vices of the streets, but she had learned everything that she needed to know to be able steal enough to live. She became streetwise in ways that would have seemed unimaginable to her previously, being able to protect herself from all of the predators that one could find on the wrong side of the law.

It was not until past her sixteenth birthday that a new change would come. A relatively normal smash-and-grab had finally gotten her netted by the police and she was finally brought back to the right side of society. Life in a foster home had seemed extremely normal to her, and her foster mother had forced her into a life of dance to help focus her into a positive life. By the time that she had graduated high school she looked like any other person her age, and as she moved onto a full scholarship to study dance at NYU, it had almost become easy to forget her bizarre past. Dance was her passion, and she lived the life of every twenty-something, falling in and out of love, struggling to survive on meager amounts of money, and living in apartments that she shared with more than a few friends. The end of her studies had meant that she joined a small but successful touring dance company.

-

These were the thoughts that were going through her mind at the moment, partly as a retrospect during a set of conditions where she now feared for her life, and partly because she had nothing else to do. She was hanging upside down by her feet, bound and waiting for some unknown outcome. She had been with her dance group as they had toured through Romania, and she had been abducted from her hotel room. Her immediate fears had subsided - she had evidently not been grabbed to be robbed or murdered, and if they had been interested in selling her into sex slavery then it didn't explain why she had been hung upside down and a blood sample been taken with a wicked looking knife. Now that her abductors had left her alone, she reverted to a previous time in her life. Though she was a seemingly normal young woman, she wouldn't be victimized just as she wouldn't be in her teen years. With ease she contorted her body, and pulled herself up to awkwardly untie the ropes that held her in place.

Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, and she realized for the first time that she was in an older building. The more that she looked around, she was certain that she was in an old castle, and that she was likely a prisoner in the dungeon. The single door was locked in front of her, but it was not the only way out. The top of the room consisted of a grate, and though the cell would have been inescapable to most, she saw that she could easily scale the walls. The passage of time had meant a shift in the walls, and certain stones protruded from places where the wall might have once been smooth. A normal person might not be able to climb this surface, but Anna was in peak physical condition, and therefore it would be difficult but quite possible. She decided it was the best course of action. As she reached the top, she easily lifted her way through the grate, itself worn away by time. Her suspicions about being held in a castle were confirmed, though this part of the castle was better cared for than the part that she had just escaped from.

She could see only one exit from where she stood, and it was down a hallway from which a number of voices seemed to be involved in an argument. She approached carefully, and as quietly as she could, she could tell that the voices came from only two that were arguing, though there were evidently more in their midst.

"Wotammu, we have not detected such a power since at least a dozen circuits," he said, "we must sacrifice her and use the raw energy."

"You are a fool, Dormipso!" the other said, "and you always have been, willing to sacrifice future gains for the wasteful indulgences of the present." At this moment one of their acolytes approached and revealed a scroll to the one who had been identified as on Wotammu. he unraveled it and rad it for a moment before passing it over to the other, Dormipso. He was already deep in thought as the other finished reading the document.

"The Voot tribe?" Dormipso said, "Is it not impossible? We had killed them all."

"Voot is interesting," Wotammu said, "as is the purity of the gypsy magic from her mother, and the tinge of Navajo magic."

"We can kill her now and rule the world," Dormipso said.

"You think too small, my friend," Wotammu said, "we can train her as our slave and we can rule the cosmos."

Anna tried to figure out who they were talking about, until it occurred to her that they were talking about her. She unconsciously took a step back, in so doing knocking into a small table beside her and causing a small vase to fall over and hitting the floor. It was not loud, but still loud enough to get the attention of all of those congregated near her. She could hear them approaching her, and she searched her surroundings for something that she could use as a weapon. She reached for a short staff hanging on the wall and swung it towards the others as they turned into the corridor to confront her. They stopped upon seeing her.

"Put that down!" Wotammu said.

She saw that Wotammu and Dormipso were old men, seemingly cheating time and maybe even death. They wore long robes and their heads were adorned with skulls caps which pronounced their long beards. Wotammu's skin had a greenish hue to it, while Dormipso's seemed almost greyish.

"How can she even lift it?" one of the acolytes asked from behind them, "Without its power consuming her?"

"Silence!" Dormipso cried to his back, as the acolytes shied away from him.

"The wand!" Wotammu asked again to Anna.

"You mean to kill me," she said, "I heard everything."

"Dormipso spoke out of turn," Wotammu said, "he is impulsive and does not think through outcomes."

"I don't care," she said, "I don't care what you want. I just want to be away from here."

A flash appeared before her, and in an instant those in front of her were gone. She was standing on the sidewalk outside of her apartment building in New York City, but something was not normal. She was in a scene that was frozen before her, with taxi cabs frozen in mid street, and the mass of people around her were frozen in mid-stride.

"What is happening?" she asked aloud.

"You asked to leave," a voice said.

"Who said that?" Anna asked.

"I did," the voice said, as Anna realized that it was coming from the wand that she still had in her hand.

"Who are you?" Anna asked.

"I am the vestiges of the sorceress known as Waninza," she said, "long since perished but with her magical essence stored within."

"How is this happening?" Anna asked.

"I sensed that you were in distress," Waninza said, "and responded to your plea. You have untested power, Vootana, and I sensed that those others intended you for a nefarious end. I unlocked a portion of your power to grant you a respite against their schemes."

"Why do you call me Vootanna?" Anna asked.

"You are Anna of the Voot tribe," Waninza said, "and if you like I will guide you on your journey into the mystic arts." Another flash passed before Anna's eyes, and the street scene went back to normal. If not for the fact that she was standing in New York City clutching the wand, she would not have believed what had happened. Whatever it was that just had happened to her, she knew that there were answers beyond her knowledge and that now she would have to find them.

-

Zatanna + Brother Voodoo = Vootanna

Dormammu + Eclispo = Dormispo

Wotan + Dormammu = Wotammu

Inza Nelson + Wanda Maximoff = Waninza

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BlueEcho

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I made her a dancer because it is the only other job I could think of that has a good reason to wear fishnets.

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TommytheHitman

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#46  Edited By TommytheHitman

@blueecho: We all know that the fishnets are 50% of Zatanna's personality.

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BlueEcho

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@tommythehitman: Definitely a must for her costume.

The 1970s costume was all right, the 1980s costume less so.

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TommytheHitman

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@blueecho: I know! What was that weird thing on her head?

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BlueEcho

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@tommythehitman: My issue with it was that she had earrings that had Z's on them.

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TommytheHitman

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@blueecho: Is the public aware that Zatanna's a superhero?