thealvininkwell

[thealvininkwell]

Delirium: Description

What is 'Delirium'? 'Delirium' is an upcoming, ongoing zombie story told from the first-person perspective in a mix between a novel and journal style. It follows a group of characters, only one of which is doing the writing, as they try to survive both the undead, and the living.

The story has similar properties to 'The Walking Dead', but is ultimately separate, and draws heavily from other sources of zombie media. With heart and twists galore, 'Delirium' is the place to go for survival horror.

In a world where safety is a distant memory, no one is safe in the world of 'Delirium'.

[thealvininkwell]

Spider-Man: Rise of the Six

Manhattan 08:00

"Betty Brant, coming to you live from Midtown. The notorious supervillain, Vulture, has broken out of The Raft. Six months after the disappearance of Spider-Man, citizens are wondering: what happened to the wall-crawler, and will he come back?"

A loud crash came from the road, as if an earthquake shook Manhattan. "We are having fun, no?" A Russian voice spoke. Aleksi. Rhino chuckled as he flipped cars and continued his rampage.

Betty shrieked as a car hurled toward her and exploded after hitting the ground on the other side. "Spider-Man, wherever you are, I hope you can hear this: we need your help."

Blocks away, in Queens, Peter Parker was growing a beard, apartment a mess. He hadn't forgiven himself for the death of Gwen Stacy. He didn't think he ever would. Sitting up in bed, eyes crusted over, he felt the apartment shake. Curious, he looked out the window to see Vulture soaring high above the city, don't bring down and wrecking property. Cars flying through the air.

The twenty-two year old opened his closet, nothing in sight. He glanced at a small case, his red-and-blue spandex suit sat inside, not touched for months. Am I really doing this?

Manhattan, 09:00

Sparks flew from the docks of Manhattan Harbor. "What's wrong? Afraid of a little lightning?!" Electro cackled, "I'm just the warm up! This is our city now, people!"

Metal clinking came from a rooftop as a man with a bowlcut smiled, tentacles up and in attack mode. "Everything is going according to his plan. Soon, the city will be under our control. We'll do whatever we want... No spider, and once we own the police, no police." He let out a laugh, heading downtown for the banks.

Queens, 09:30

Peter shaved, opened his briefcase and paced back and forth. I have a responsibility… I have to stop them, but— but what if I can't? What if I fail again? Can the city even look at me? Can they trust me after failing the way I have?

Manhattan, 10:00

J. Jonah Jameson sat in his office, pandemonium breaking out. He stared out the window, cigar hanging from his lips. He was wrong. He'd always been wrong. Spider-Man was a hero, and this city needed him. He was really a fan of the hero, but thought his news articles would help him strive to be better. Was he possibly the reason for Spider-Man's retirement? Come on, Spider-Man...

Another few minutes went by and a sandstorm kicked up in Central Park. Sandman. Morphing into a large, raging head, a smile appeared on his face. The plan? Make it impossible to navigate so first responders couldn't get in. Ock was going for the banks, Electro for the power grid, Vulture and Rhino were just in damage creation.

A man in red and blue spandex stood up in Central Park. He wasn't the real Spider-Man, but maybe they'd buy it. "Hey, uh, Sandman!"

Sandman spoke in his comms, "Spider-Man spotted."

Ock narrowed his eyes, "Are you sure?"

The man thought, "Uh, stop whatever it is you're um... Doing... Please..."

Sandman chuckled, "It's a copycat."

A voice spoke, "Waste him. He's not important. Spider-Man is dead." A loud cackle broke through the chaos as Green Goblin soared through the air, hurling bombs at buildings. Goblin's plan was to take control of everything.

A voice spoke out, "The only thing that's dead here, is your fashion sense, Goblin."

Goblin turned his head, narrowing his eyes.

"I mean, really, what were you thinking? A man purse? Really?" Spider-Man quipped.

"It's you!" Goblin snarled, arming a bomb.

Spider-Man stared back, lenses reflecting the image of the Green Goblin, "The one and only…"

[thealvininkwell]

Daredevil: Flatline

Matt Murdock placed his keys on the table where he always did. It had been a hectic day. Earlier that day, The Avengers had torn up the city, yet again trying to protect it. Matt did what he could, but he still had clients.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch, even pouring a little on a few wounds he had. Not bad ones, but definitely ones that needed a little cleaning. Matt then sat on his couch, taking the bottle with him.

His apartment building in Hell's Kitchen was one of the larger ones, and he had one of the larger rooms. Still, the one thing he didn't have was a TV. He knew it wasn't always right, but he would listen through the walls and try to hear what other people did. His favorite was a floor beneath him; a couple who loved watching 'Harry Potter'.

He'd read it in Braille over the years, and loved hearing the dialogue in the films. The best part was it didn't ruin how he imagined it in his head. Matt could hear the laughter of people, their shouting, their grunting, their crying… but what he liked more was listening to heartbeats.

He always felt heartbeats were the best way to get to know someone. You can tell their health, their mental state, their arousal, whether they tell the truth or lie. The body reacts so acutely to any stimulus.

Two rooms away, Mr. Ego was cooking his favorite dish of ratatouille he got from an old cookbook his mother had given him. Everytime he took a whiff of that scent, Mr. Ego's heart would flutter. Thump-thump, thump, thump-thump. Based off of that, it was easy to tell he missed his mother, and the the dish was celebratory in her memory or for a special occasion. There was, after all, a second heartbeat in the room. Perhaps a first date. Good for him.

Three floors down, there was a firefighter. He'd been in the city since he was born. His father had been a firefighter, too. Died on September 11th, 2001. Young Randall wanted to finish his father's job and help people. Tonight, he was enjoying a drink, or several, because his heart rate was spiking. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Especially in New York, that job haunted him. Matt felt for him. It's one of the few times he was thankful he didn't see.

Across the building, he could hear the sounds of a couple arguing. A wife displeased in her husband's line of work; the husband arguing back that this time was different and that his band was really about to land a big gig. He didn't have money to pay rent. He never did. Not because he was a musician, but Matt recognized the voice. He was a Kingpin thug, lying about being a musician. No, Fisk never paid him his share because he was always paying for getting caught. Thump, thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

Just as Matt was making his way to a new apartment, he noticed something. Something worse than sirens, or yelling. He noticed silence. Something that never touched this city. All the heartbeats had stopped, except his own.

His was starting to increase until it was pounding from his chest. What just happened? He asked his phone to call Foggy Nelson. Brrrrrrrt… brrrrrrrt… brrrrrrrt… brrrrrrrt… brrrrrrrt… CLICK Hey, it's Foggy. If you're a client, please call the office phone at 555-0192. For any personal calls, leave a message please! "Foggy, it's Matt. Hey, I don't know what happened, but I have a terrible feeling... Just… call me when you get this. Please." Foggy always answers his phone.

There was no response from Karen, either, but that could just mean she was still mad at Matt.

For the first time, Matthew Murdock didn't hear anything, and he was truly alone. So he listened to his own heartbeat, and it was terrified.

[thealvininkwell]

Batman: Plague

The first time I went out, I was reckless. Criminals needed something to fear. I genuinely believed, all those years ago, that I was truly making a difference. I was younger. I had more faith. Now I realize the truth: Gotham City is a plague. One that has no cure. I think, deep down, I always knew that my efforts were futile. Truthfully, it was never about saving my city. This city I have grown to despise. It was about getting even.

A younger Batman stares at a thug, who replies, "The hell are you supposed to be?"

Batman doesn't hesitate to beat the man to a pulp, close to death, "I'm vengeance." He whispered before snapping the bones of every other criminal in the area.

Call it a child's mindset, call it naivety, call it crazy, call it whatever you want; but I truly believed that all of that violence, all of that suffering I inflicted upon others… was going to bring them back.

"You cannot keep doing this, Master Wayne. You're killing yourself." Alfred pleaded, stitching up yet another gunshot wound and resetting bones.

Bruce winced, "But it's working. They fear something again, Alfred. They go out and think twice now."

"Of not breaking the law? Or of getting beaten to a pulp by a leather-clad demon, sir?" Alfred challenged.

"Is there a difference?" Bruce asked.

"Just don't become a monster, yourself, Master Bruce." Alfred sighed.

"Sometimes, you need a monster." He said, taking a sip of whiskey.

"But I prefer Bruce Wayne, sir." He frowned, walking away, "I don't expect you to quit, but sometimes I think you don't know why you're doing what you're doing."

Over the years, as the world became colder, I got meaner. My parents, Dick's parents, Jason, Barbara lost her legs because of me, it stoked the flames of an already raging inferno.

Joker cackled, "Just admit it, I won!"

A fist slammed into Joker's jaw, teeth flying out, "WON?! IS THAT WHAT THIS WAS? A SICK GAME?!"

Joker frowned, his makeup still making him smile, "And it's not one to you? Bruce, every fight you have, you pummel everyone in your way." A fist hit him again, more teeth coming out, his 'S' became a whistle, "But in comes The Man of Steel, in comes Jason Todd, in comes Barbara Gordon. And you realize that they all have what you'll never have again: humanity, Bruce. Humanity. And I've done it. I have broken you. You're a shell of who you used to be because you've realize just how cruel the world is. You're just like me!" Joker let out a laugh.

"I am nothing like you!" Bruce growled.

But I was. I was arguably worse. I threw people I seemed to care about in the line of fire. I didn't care what happened to them until after it happened, and then it just made me angrier. It pains me to realize, now, decades later, Joker was right. We are the same. I thought maybe Gotham was the plague, but what if it's me? What if The Batman agitated the already infected wound that was this city? I thinks it's time I face the facts: The Bat is dead…

The scene fades to the Batcave as the computers power down and an older Bruce Wayne sits all alone. Alfred has passed, Dick hasn't spoken to him in years, the city is in shambles, and Bruce Wayne is alone. He places the cowl on top of the suit for the final time, and shuts the case, walking off with his cane. The Batman is dead, and so is Bruce Wayne. All that remains is a shallow, broken husk of a man.

A laugh, a shrill cackle echoes through the city, and Bruce turns around, donning the suit one more time. Thrusters to the Batmobile fired up as it left the cave.

Or maybe: Bruce Wayne is dead, and The Batman is all that remains.

[thealvininkwell]

Easter Sunday

I'd been camping my whole life, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells, just admiring nature and forgetting about all of my problems. It was always something I did with my father when I was younger, but he passed away unexpectedly when I was twenty, so I tried to find a way to do one last camping trip with him.

See, every year around Father's Day, we went to one specific campsite in Appalachian Kentucky. It was secluded enough to where cars and any other motorized vehicle couldn't get through without having serious issues. We liked that. Sure, it was a little more risky if something were to happen, but it gave us time to just bond and catch up. The year he died, I was living in Pennsylvania, so I had to pass through Virginia to get back home to Kentucky, a mistake I wish I'd never made.

All was well, until I hit a city called Clifton. Clifton was a small city of about 200 people. Coming from a small town myself, I loved passing through there normally, even though the cell service there was non-existent.

I forgot to mention I had gotten a late start. Instead of leaving at 9A.M. like I'd planned, I would up on the phone with my mother for several hours just talking about Dad. I didn't get going until around 5P.M.

Where I was in Pennsylvania meant I had a near-twelve hour drive, with Clifton being about three or four hours in. While there, my car started to have some mechanical issues under Colchester Overpass, a small bridge for trains with a short tunnel for one-way car traffic.

My car wasn't exactly in the best shape to begin with, but lights flickering on the dash as well as my headlights was not a good sign. I don't know much about cars, but I remember my dad having this problem once, too. I found out later it was a bad alternator.

My car stalled perfectly under Colchester Overpass. "Shit," I remember saying. Instinctively, I grabbed my phone to call AAA. Of course, there was no signal. I got out and started walking to try and get some signal of sort when I came across a small cottage. It seemed older, maybe late 1800s construction, and had a beat up front porch, like someone had been chopping at it with an axe.

I took a step forward, being considerate of the 'private property' sign. "Excuse me!" I called out, "I'm sorry to bother you! My car broke down just a little ways north of here under the overpass!"

Behind me a male voice spoke out from in the woods, "Can you read?" His voice was clearly aggravated.

"Yes, sir." I replied, "I just need to call a mechanic and I'll be on my way."

After an uncomfortable silence, I turned around saw a figure in the treeline. It was dark, but I could still make out a set of ears, bunny ears.

I was paralyzed, I wasn't sure what to do. Thankfully, something snapped me out of it. He started running towards me. No, not running; sprinting.

I tore off towards my car. It wasn't in great shape, but I had a good battery, so it should've started. Getting in, I turned the key and prayed. The engine roared and I floored it toward the figure, and that's when I saw it.

He was wearing a bunny suit, a beat up, bunny suit with red stains around the hands. What horrified me the most was the fact the eyes were gouged out and I saw his eyes. Brown, dead, psychotic eyes. He sidestepped my car and I heard a loud thud!

Driving until my car gave out again, I probably got twenty or thirty minutes down the road and checked my phone. Thankfully, it had service. My first call was to the police, reporting the incident.

They told me the little house had been abandoned for almost two decades, but they had gotten similar calls about strange activities in the area.

The second one was to AAA. I got a tow truck and they hauled me to the nearest mechanic after removing the hatchet from the back of the car.

As for the "Bunny Man", I have never passed through Clifton again.

[thealvininkwell]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗘𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗻𝗲

"I am the hero of this story. Don't forget that. You can plaster my name on as many 'wanted' posters and plaques at the Flash Museum saying I'm a murderer and a monster as you want, but it won't change the fact that I'm the hero. My story starts in my personal past, but your distant future. A paradox, I know, but stay with me, it will all be cleared up." Eobard Thawne sat in a cold interrogation room, cuffs on his hands.

"I was born in Central Cityplex, a merge between Keystone and Central City. 25th Century. My parents raised me, designed me to be a genius." He groaned.

Darryl Frye, a Central City Police Department cop sat on the other side of the glass, "Designed? Like a computer?"

"Yes, detective," He growled, unhappy he'd been interrupted, "Like a computer." He spat through gritted teeth, "In my century, natural birth is obsolete. Families choose how their kids will look, act, think, and feel. Mostly." He explained, clenching his fists, "I remember, from a young age, I was infatuated by the 21st Century heroes. Your heroes. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman…The Flash." He smiled softly, but there was something sinister about it, "The Flash was the most intriguing. Museums, artifacts from the past. In my time, it's all precious. I wanted so badly to learn about him. Eventually, of course, I did." Eobard Thawne stood up, staring into the two way mirror, "I studied The Speed Force, the Source of Flash's power, for years at The Flash Museum. I even became curator. My nickname was 'Professor Zoom'."

Frye laughed a little, "Professor Zoom? That sounds more like an insult."

"I can assure you, Captain Frye, it's all praise. Let's move one from that, though, shall we?" He began to pace back and forth, "One day, I found a time capsule from your time. Inside, oh, inside, it contained his suit. I was stunned. Surely this was destiny" He stopped, turning to the right, staring at Frye, "Right?"

There was no response from the intercom, everyone was deathly quiet, listening.

"I put the suit on. The power it contained. It felt so… 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜…" His eyes glowed bright red when he said it. "The suit had enough residual Speed Force energy to allow me to tap into it. It happened. I was The Flash. I couldn't believe it."

"That sounds a little too good to be true, Professor." Frye spoke up.

"Oh, it was. I'm getting there." He chuckled, "Then, he showed up. My hero. The Flash. Curious to observe who had come into possession of his old suit, he was eager to meet me. I showed him how good I was at saving people. Couples in a car accident, people falling from buildings. We were quite the team. He even gave me some wisdom: every second is precious."

"Then what happened? You said it was too good to be true." Chief Singh finally spoke up.

"What happened was I was a fraud. In the 25th Century, crime is at a net zero, meaning I had to fabricate my own crimes. Save people I put in danger. When The Flash found out, he, albeit understandably, turned me in." Thawne growled, "After that, I decided to turn my life around. I donated to charities while in prison. My fame and image had been forever tarnished, so I was trying to show I'd changed. Upon seeing my change, I was released for good behavior. It was then I knew what I had to do: I had to become a sidekick. I donned the suit once more, changing to, well, what you see now." He gestured to his suit with the cowl up. "I knew his sidekicks wore it, so I admitted I wasn't ready. I traveled back in time, to find Flash and show him I'd changed." His eyes began to glow red again, "And what did I see but The Flash handing a watch to his new ward, Kid Flash. Engraved in the timepiece, that piece of advice he gave me. Every. Second. Is. Precious."

Thawne could feel the uneasiness behind the two-way mirror, "Lost, I traveled to the Flash Museum for guidance. It was then I found out I was destined to be his villain. The greatest villain he'd ever faced. Don't let that fool you, for I'm still the hero. By pushing Flash to his full potential, I am truly making him a better hero, thus… well, I'm sure you can do that math."

Captain Frye sighed, "Professor, we have been more than patient. Please get to the point. You turned yourself in here. A verdict no doubt justified, but you had a reason. What is it?"

Zoom pulled his cowl down, his blond hair catching the light, "I, Eobard Thawne, confess to the torture and murder of Nora Thompson Allen and the framing of Henry Allen."

Police stormed the interrogation room and tried to restrain Thawne before a red streak of electricity zipped around the room and the cops collapsed. Thawne looked into the mirror, his eyes red and voice distorted, "You seem to think I want to go back to prison, no, no. I just wanted him to see that no matter how hard he tries, even if I come willingly, he will not stop me. Come to think of it, maybe I am the villain. And you know what? It feels really, really, fucking good." A loud boom echoed through the station as the two officers sat in fear.

[thealvininkwell]

Superman: Love is Invincible

It was one of the days Clark Kent went back home to Smallville, Martha and Jonathan sat at the table, reading the Daily Planet.

Clark smiled softly, pushing his glasses up, thinking about life. Earth was his home, they all loved him. He had an amazing family, a wonderful fianceé, and yet… he felt lost

Martha put a hand on his, "Everything okay, Clark?"

He let out a sigh. He wasn't sure how to phrase it. Clark had literally held the weight of the world for Atlas, moved faster than the speed of light, and saved more people than he could count; and yet… he didn't always see himself in that light. "I just… sometimes I don't feel very… super, Ma."

Her expression softened, taking his glasses off, "Clark, do you know what I see when I take these off?"

"Superman?" He asked.

She shook her head, "I see my son; Clark Joseph Kent." She handed the glasses to Jonathan, who started cleaning them. "Clark," She started, "I love seeing you out there, saving people, working with the people you do, doing what you were meant to do, but you know what? You're my son. Our son." She put her other hand on Jonathan's shoulder, "And you don't need to be 'super' for that. Kryptonian abilities or not, you're our son first, Clark."

Clark's nose stung a little, "Ma…"

Martha smiled, "Clark, your abilities aren't what make you super. It's who you are. What you stand for, who you love and your unwavering loyalty. Kryptonite may be able to hurt you, but love is your most powerful asset. And love has no weakness."

Tears streamed down Clark's face, and his mom hugged him, "I love you Clark."

"I love you too, Ma." He said.

[thealvininkwell]

A Night At The Beach

The dial tone of an old landline phone from 2002 sang it's monotone song. A sixteen year old boy dials three numbers '9-1-1'. The phone rings. Once. Twice... Click. A female voice spoke, "9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

The boy cries, "Please, send help immediately! I need help, someone is trying to kill me, please!" He placed his hand on the counter, a bloody print left when he lifted it.

"Sir, please, calm down. Do you have a place you can hide?" She inquired.

He gulps hard, "Yes." He says, locking himself in a closet. The kind with slits on the door. A click of the lock and he hunkered in the corner. "Will you stay with me?" He whispered.

The operator smiled, "Of course. I just need an address."

"Address. Right. Um, you know the Anderson Family Beach House?" He asked.

Keys clicked on the other end, "Off of Hickory Street? I do. Anything else?"

"Um, the guy is about six feet tall, curly hair, brown eyes, wearing a grey hoodie, white sneakers, and dark jeans." He said. "He's already killed my friends..." He sobbed, "Please."

"There's an officer en route to you. Five minutes tops. Just hang in there and don't leave where you are." She instructed.

The handle jiggled, "Get out here, you fucking piece of shit!" A male said. "I'm gonna skin you when you do!"

The teenager cried, unable to speak now. Fear paralyzed him.

"It's going to be okay, sir. Just a few more minutes." She assured.

The handle jiggled more before a foot met the door, accompanied by a loud yell of frustration. "You'd better come out! If I have to fight you, it'll go on longer!" A laugh followed the sentence. "Come out and play, man, come on!"

Blue lights flashed through the window. "You fucking— you called the police?" He backed away from the closet as police raided the house.

He started to struggle, "Don't do it!" He said, "He's in the closet! I've gotta get him!" He pleaded.

The operator spoke, "Everything okay?"

The teen's breathing got back to normal, "Y-yes ma'am. Thank you."

The police hauled off the man in their cars and collected a statement from the only living witness who recounted how the man tried to kill him. They thanked him and went on their way. As soon as the last cop car pulled away, a sinister grin appeared on the teen's face.

He wiped the blood off his hands and opened the closet to grab his knife.

Opening another room down the hall, he looked at another kid, a girl, close to his age, tied to a chair, gagged and bound, "You did so splendid with the cops being here... And now that your brother is gone, I can finish what I started."

[thealvininkwell]

The Marauders: Together Forever

Two years after escaping Azkaban Prison, Sirius Black stood in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow, staring at the grave of Lily and James Potter. "It's unfair, innit?" He jammed his hand into his pockets, exhaling softly, "I know it's not my fault, Prongs. It was Peter. I suppose the persona of a rat was rather fitting, huh?" He chuckled.

"I spent twelve years in that prison. When I met Harry, I knew who he was. Not by the scar, but by you." He looked over at the headstone of Lily, "And you, Lily. Your eyes. Oh, you would be so proud of the man he's becoming. And he's quite the troublemaker. I suppose he got that from you, eh Prongs?" He sniffed, looking at James' stone again, "It's been fifteen years now, tonight. Moony has had a rough go of it lately with his condition." He sighed, "Almost killed me a few years ago when he changed. Not as easy without you, Prongs. Or Lily. She always had a way with wound care. Much better than just licking my paws for hours on end."

A snap came from behind him and he instinctively raised his wand, light illuminating, "Severus?"

Severus Snape looked just as shocked as Sirius Black. "Sirius. Paying James a visit?"

"Don't pretend I didn't care for Lily. We were mates, too." He said, "Here to turn me in?"

Severus shook his head slowly, lowering his own wand and conjuring flowers with a wave of it. Lilies.

Black looked at the grave and Severus repeatedly, "Of course." He smiled, "Look, Severus, I know it's late now, but you know I didn't—"

Snape raised his hand, "I know, Padfoot." He jested. "I didn't at first, but after you exposed the Weasley's rat, I— I reconsidered my emotions."

"While we're on the topic of emotions…" Sirius began, "Look, there's no way I can phrase this to make it okay, but I— all those years ago in school. I am dreadfully sorry. I know I can't—"

Snape sighed, placing the flowers down, "I forgave you all after that night. It's been hard, looking at Potter these years. A spitting image of James, but he did save my life and I'm grateful he did. You showed loyalty to Lily. Remus is a very bright wizard, a great one. So I have no qualms with any of you." He said.

Another snap rang out, "I'm sorry too if it means anything." Remus said. "My apologies for being late, but I realized I hadn't brought any butter beer for this reunion of old friends."

The three shared a laugh, before falling silent. "Things are going to change again here, soon. Severus, we know the task Dumbledore has entrusted you with. Just promise me: it won't get in the way of looking after Harry." Remus said.

"Task?" Severus asked.

"I think we all know his days are numbered." Sirius said, "We all are. Just look after Harry, whatever happens to any of us."

Severus nodded once, "Always."