Daniel headbutted Kennedy again. When he felt her go slack, he punched her a couple of times to ensure that she was out. Convinced that she wasn’t playing possum, he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hands behind her back, and reached for his restraints. That’s when he remembered that he didn’t bring them. The plan was for them to fight the dragon. Human restraints do nothing for that so they left them behind.
The roar of the dragon brought his focus back to the problem at hand. He didn’t have the time to think of an improvised solution, but the only way to be positive that Kennedy wouldn’t give them any more trouble was to kill her. As mad as he was at her for siding with the dragon, he wasn’t ready to go that far. That feeling might change if he discovered that she had indeed killed Nikki. If he found that Nikki was dead, he wouldn’t hesitate to dish out Kennedy’s punishment; the death penalty.
Daniel picked her up and dragged her over to the armored vehicle. She groaned right before he slammed her head against the metal plates three times. On a normal person, that action would have crushed their skull. On a person infused with the Protector serum, he was afraid it wasn’t enough to keep her out of the rest of the fight. It would have to do for the moment.
He looked back to see what had happened behind him while he was dealing with Kennedy. Robbie and Emmeline were still keeping the dragon occupied, though the dragon had dropped to the ground from the top of the parking and appeared to be more angry than usual. Then, he saw why. The RPG had blasted the tip of its tail off. That made him smile. That’s when the question became whether he should go after the RPG launcher or check on Nikki. Continue reading
Daniel woke up in a panic. For a few seconds, he didn’t know where he was. He sat up to get a look at his surroundings. He’d wanted to jump all the way up, but his legs were being assholes and weren’t responding like they should have been. That might have made him panic some more, but he quickly recognized where he was. He was in the Protector Center in Central Cincington. More specifically, he was in the Protector Center’s medical facility.
The door to his room opened up and a young woman, in her mid-twenties, walked in. “You know the drill, Carter,” she said, annoying him by only calling him by his last name. “Lay back down while you’re worked on.”
“How bad is it?”
“Your spine got the worst of it. After looking at your scans, I was surprised that you were still standing at the end.”
“How many shots of Coop to fix it?”
Coop was the unofficial name that the Protectors used for the recuperative injections they received to speed up their healing process. It was a wonder drug. He’d had both his legs broken before and was back on his feet within two days. Unfortunately for everyone else in the world, Coop only worked on Protectors. It worked in conjunction with the Protector serum they were given at the start of their tenures. Lately, though, he’d noticed that it was taking more Coop to heal him than it used to. Another effect of his growing age. Continue reading
I’ve written in the Star Wars universe. I wrote something in the Left 4 Dead world. I’ve made a couple of trips into the realm of Marvel. I even took a very short hop into the DC universe.
There is one place that I have not yet visited that I would really like to. The only problem is that I really haven’t had any stories come to me from it. That’s incredibly frustrating to me because, other than perhaps the Star Wars universe, I’ve spent more time in this fictional world than any other. Between the books, movie, and video games, I’ve spent a good chunk of time there, yet I can’t seem to get a story from that world to form in my head.
It doesn’t have to be a long one, or even a very good one. I just want a story from there to come to me. I want to type it up. I want to post it on here, if only so I can say that I wrote something from this universe.
That’s not too much to ask, is it?
It was at this point, when I originally thought up this post, that I was going to tell you all what world I was referring to, but I think it’d be more fun to see if any of you can guess it. Any of you out there who know me, or have followed my blog for a while, will probably be able to get it fairly quickly. Let’s see, though.
Any guesses on which fictional world I’m referring to?
Daniel Carter had been the Southside Protector for 19 years. In that time, he had never had to ask for help from any of the other 4 zones in Cincington. There had been some times that he needed to help them, but those were few and far between. Normally, he only saw the other 4 Protectors during regularly scheduled training or intelligence sharing meetings. Looking up at what was pinning him to the ground, he knew that he was going to have to break that streak. He just hoped he lived long enough for them to come to his rescue.
The dragon had him almost completely immobilized. His arms were trapped by his sides. Luckily, the techs who built the Protectors’ armor had built in contingency systems for situations such as this. There were two buttons, one on each of his hips, that would sound the alarm to have the others come running. There were also two more on his back that did the same thing, should his hands ever be bound behind him. Hitting only one of these buttons at a time did nothing. Both of them had to be hit at the same time.
Daniel had hit them both repeatedly for the last few seconds. It was like the button for an elevator. Hitting the button multiple times didn’t make it move any faster, but people did it anyway. If nothing else, Daniel hoped that the numerous amount of presses would indicate the urgency of his request.
The dragon’s head snaked down so it was face to face with Daniel. “For a mortal, you fought well. It will be an honor to kill you,” it said.
“I’d feel more honored if you didn’t kill me.” Continue reading
His knee drove down into the man’s ribs. This was the part where he’d normally hear them snap, but all Daniel heard was a small grunt. That was not good news for him. It meant that the man would be a lot tougher than he originally expected him to be. He still had no doubt that he could beat the man, but it would take more than his enhanced physical skills.
Daniel reached for his laser weapon, but the fire bomber swatted him away before he could grip it. He found himself flying backwards through the fire and slamming hard into the concrete wall. His vision blurred for a moment as pain ran rampant all over his body. Even during practice sessions with other Protectors, he had never been hit that hard and the Protectors practiced at full strength. Whatever this man was, he was stronger than Daniel.
The man stepped back into the fire. “Join me,” he bellowed mockingly. “Let us see who can withstand this trial by fire.”
“What do Protectors do?”
His eyes jerked open to see his predecessor standing in his face. Daniel knew where he was, but it didn’t make any sense. This particular event happened twenty-two years ago. Somehow, he was reliving his first day as a Collector. “A Protector is responsible for putting down all the crime in Cincington and saving its citizens from harm,” his younger self said.
His predecessor, William James, launched into the history of the town. He spoke about how it used to be two separate towns, in two different states, with a river in between them. That river dried up many years before Daniel was born and the two cities became one. It was then divided up into five sections: Northside, Westside, Eastside, Southside, and Central. He remembered thinking that the section names were the most unoriginal names he’d ever heard. At least they were practical, though.
Like originality, the concept of states was no longer around in his time either. There were no United States anymore. It was just America.
The laser beam shot right past his head. If he hadn’t ducked, it would have hit him right in the mouth. A laser beam to the face was not a sensation that he particularly wanted to experience. Something else he didn’t want to experience was the smell of burning hair, but for some reason he was. Wait, he stopped himself, why am I smelling burning hair?
He reached back behind his head and had a clump of his long red ponytail come off in his hand. “Oh, come on,” he shouted at the shooter. “Do you know how long it took me to grow that?” Then he thought of his daughter. “Tatiana is going to be pissed,” he mumbled.