The Tales of Sol 81 By Joe at3unit3@yahoo.com
This is a fictional story it is not intended to imply that any members of the Backstreet Boys, Nsync, or 98 Degrees are gay, or any of the other celebrities mentioned are homosexuals. If you are not old enough to read these stories do yourself a favor and don't get caught. The same goes for those people whose countries have these sites made illegal. And for everyone else enjoy
Captain Planet and related characters were created by R.E Turner and copyrighted by AOL Time Warner Company and Trademark by TBS Productions
Babylon 5 and all related characters and props were created by Michael Straczynski and copyrighted by Warner Bros.
Star Trek and all related characters created by Gene Roddenberry. Copyright Paramount
Transformers and all related characters, and props are trademarked by Hasbro Inc. Copyright Rhino Home Videos and AOL Time Warner Entertainment CO
He-Man, She-Ra, related characters, and props are trademarked by Filmation 1980s
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and all related characters created by Joss Whedon. Copyright 20th Century Fox.
Batman, and all related characters created by Bob Kane. Copyright DC Comics and Warner Bros.
X-MEN and all related characters were created by Stan Lee. Copyright Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox.
To those who've been reading Tales of Sol. I want you to know that while there is sex in this story. That is not is sole purpose and yes I do hope the sex sense makes you all hard and gets you off.
Sol is an adaption from my childhood favorite show Captain Planet and the Planeteers, The cartoon showed us that the world can be a better place if we took a few moments to care for it.
Tales of Sol is meant to express hope.
It also shows how music can have an impact in our lives. While I don't know if my favorite bands 98 Degrees, Backstreet Boys, or Nsync have ever read this. They saw me through some of the hardest moments of my life and offered in their own way hope. To them, I say thank you.
I dedicate the Tales of Sol to all of my brothers and sisters of the US Armed Service past, present, and future.
I like to thank my friends whom I had the privilege of showing these chapters with. They helped with editing and inspiration,
John Rivera, Albert-Russ Alan Rivera-Odum, Derbe.D. Hunte Yvette Ortiz Samuel Diaz Jr for all their help in Making The Tales of Sol an enjoyable story to write.
And I have a few other names starting with the beginner of this universe.
James is the author of Tales of a Real Dark Knight. I still hope to reconnect with you dear friend and all the rest of this series.
Blake the author of Tales of a New Phoenix
Jeremi author of the Tales of Young Mutants
I am adding a few more remarks. I have entered into the 21st century of AI editing, I have been using various AI programs to help with grammar checks, clarity, and improvements to my story.
This story was edited with the help of GPT Workspace, Grammarly, Microsoft Copilot, and Quillbot AI software.
AI Use Disclosure: I used GPT Workspace to generate some text for my story, Grammarly to check my grammar and spelling, Microsoft Copilot to write some code snippets, and Quillbot to paraphrase some sentences. I verified the accuracy and originality of the AI-generated content and cited the sources that I used for reference.
References:
GPT Workspace. (2024, January 9). Version 1.0. [AI tool]. GPT Workspace Inc. https://gptworkspace.com/
Grammarly. (2024, January 9). Version 5.6. [AI tool]. Grammarly Inc. https://www.grammarly.com/
Microsoft Copilot. (2024, January 9). Version 2.3. [AI tool]. Microsoft Corporation. https://copilot.github.com/
Quillbot. (2024, January 9). Version 4.2. [AI tool]. Quillbot Inc. https://quillbot.com/
The Tales of Sol 81
Weathering the Storm
As I lay in the grip of unconsciousness, the specter of defeat haunted me. The notion that I might have let down Brian and the Buca di Beppo was a smoldering ruin and all those people I sought to protect were dead. It was a devastating thought.
Yet, in the silent reprieve provided by darkness, a comforting presence intervened. "No, Mike, you didn't let anyone down you succeeded in protecting everyone," the Spirit of the Earth, Gaia, assured me.
Bewilderment joined my relief. "Gaia? What happened?" My voice conveyed both my confusion and concern.
"You succumbed to exhaustion. The animosity you faced from Clark, combined with the strain from dueling the last Sentinel, depleted your strength excessively. Presently, your body is recovering in a hospital bed, but I've transported your consciousness here to the Crystal Matrix to offer you solace," she revealed with gentle clarity.
Within the serene expanse of the Crystal Matrix, tranquility enveloped me. This sanctum had once been a place of refuge for Captain Planet, a bastion of peace for the Planet's champion, and it served me now with equal beneficence.
The remembrance of being in this place once before, after a harrowing battle with gas-soaked garments and the wreckage of a car and Bringers surrounding me, reassured me. This tranquil haven was doing wonders for my mental state despite the lingering concern that in my inability to transform into Sol, I might have inadvertently led to tragedy.
But through Gaia's presence, I found a path through the doubt and the outskirts of despair, reconnecting with a sense of hope and the assurance that my efforts hadn't been in vain.
"Gaia, I failed when it mattered most. I was unable to call upon Sol--the very force capable of halting those Sentinels in their tracks," I confessed, weighed down by a heavy sense of guilt and self-reproach. Sol, my empowered alter ego, wielded the elemental might to control fire, water, air, and earth. He was the stalwart guardian who should have averted the catastrophe.
"Sol would have effortlessly forged a city bus from the scraps of those Sentinels," I mused, trying to conjure up the image of his potential heroics. His track record was one of awe-inspiring innovation--turning leviathan robots into innocuous trash receptacles and athletic gear. The might of his elemental prowess knew no bounds when it came to repurposing mayhem into utility.
Gaia's gentle reminder coaxed the clouds of self-doubt aside. "Mike, recall how even before fully embracing Sol's resurgence, you were adept at transmuting those cumbersome Sentinels into harmless objects," she counseled wisely. And she was correct--I couldn't deny my own history of crafty exploits as Guardian, my other secret persona.
It all began when Captain Planet's essence waned; in his stead, I carried a mere spark of his legacy. Gaia had nurtured that spark within me, allowing it to flourish in time. It wasn't until that critical dive--when I retrieved Brian's plane from the ocean's depths--that I was endowed with the full spectrum of abilities I now possessed. Still, I had always been careful to wield such power only when shrouded by the Guardian's guise, donning the costume as a mantle of responsibility for the mighty acts performed.
"Indeed, it was Guardian who channeled such feats. Stripped of the opportunity to transform, constrained to the visage of Mike Pennock, I found myself bridled," I spoke, my voice tinged with vulnerability. Mike Pennock -- that was me sans the veil of alter egos, just a man with an everyday life and responsibilities. He was the one who endured the delicate balance of masking extraordinary capabilities from the probing eyes of the world.
Gaia's words resonated within me, imparting strength and comfort. "The essence of your powers, Mike, doesn't solely derive from the elemental forces at your command, nor the Guardian's costume you wear. Rather, it's your heart that is the true wellspring of your ability to effect change. Remember, even before the mantle of Sol was yours, Mike Pennock made an impact," she reminded me with a voice rich in empathy and knowledge. And she was unequivocally right.
I had indeed made a difference as just Mike Pennock, through the simple yet profound acts of helping others, rescuing animals, and, crucially, loving Brian. It was he who stoked the flames of my resolve, igniting a passion strong enough to embrace my fate as Sol. Brian's love and unwavering support had been the catalyst that compelled me to rise to the heroic occasion, transforming me not just in power, but in spirit.
Gaia's voice carried the weight of ancient wisdom, invoking Umberto Eco's words to underscore the unintended heroism within my actions. "The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everyone else."
Her affirmation was steadfast, "You are that hero, Mike--not for the costume you don, nor the powers you wield, but for the compassion and resolve in your heart. No force of hatred, no failure, nor automaton of war can strip you of this inherent valor."
She continued, her words guiding me like a lighthouse through the fog of self-recrimination, "Remember, Mike, the Sentinels were merely tools; it was Morgan Clark's vile hatred that posed the true threat. It is his malice, not the might of machines, that sought to weaken your spirit."
Her counsel was apt, a reminder that while the Sentinels were formidable adversaries, it was Clark's insidious loathing that had seeped into my very bones, challenging me in ways steel and circuits never could. It was a duel not just of brawn, but of soul--an arena where the mettle of one's heart truly determines the victor.
The frustration in my voice was palpable as I grappled with the constraints of my humanity. "If only I could have transformed into Sol or Guardian at that moment," I lamented, the weight of perceived failure pressing down on me--most of all, the fear that I had let Brian down.
Gaia's voice, kind yet authoritative, cut through my self-doubt. "Remember, Mike, powers without a guiding heart are mere tools," she reminded me, her pride in my actions woven into her speech. "It was your bravery that faced down the darkness. Your intervention--your words and resolve--they shifted the tides. You stopped the Friends of Humanity from wreaking havoc; you prevented that restaurant from becoming a battleground."
"Those people inside are safe because of what you did," she continued, ensuring the credit did not escape me. "Your heart led the charge, and in real heroism, valor far outweighs any costume or ability."
"Mike, it was the power of your convictions that truly altered the course of events, far more than your capacity to manipulate the physical world and transmute wood into titanium," Gaia emphasized, affirming that the essence of heroism lay beyond my elemental transformations. "Sol, your alter ego, holds an immense sense of pride in you," she imparted, her gaze deep and all-knowing.
With an insightful arch of her celestial brow, Gaia turned the tables, prompting self-reflection. "Consider the reaction of those people inside--how they responded to your stand. Do you comprehend the depth of your impact?" she questioned, challenging me to understand the broader ripples my presence had created in the hearts and minds of those who bore witness to my actions.
A modest flush warmed my cheeks as I acknowledged my earlier oversight. "Truthfully, I couldn't really notice," I confessed to Gaia. The intensity of battle pitted against the Sentinels and Clark's venomous zeal, had tunnel-visioned my focus, steering my attention away from the reactions of the bystanders I sought to defend.
Gaia's words were gentle, yet they bore the force of an undeniable truth. "Mike, in the heart of adversity, it is the courage to act that transforms the world," she imparted with soothing clarity. "In that moment, you altered not only the course of events but the hearts of those who bore witness. You exemplified the virtue of embracing uniqueness--a message that, amidst the fear and chaos, resonated within the souls of many."
Her affirmation washed over me, seeping deeply and dispersing the lingering fog of doubt and regret. A profound sense of accomplishment swelled within my chest. In standing against darkness, in upholding the beacon of diversity and unity, I had indeed sparked a change--a difference that surpassed the physical feats I had performed. It was a victory as important as any elemental conquest--perhaps even more so.
"Your willingness to stake it all when Clark demanded destruction, that alone reinforced your stance far more powerfully than Sol's might ever could," Gaia affirmed. Her words were a testament to the irrefutable courage on display in those defining moments.
The void around me began to stir with a familiar essence, stirring a different kind of strength within me. It was Brian's presence that permeated through the darkness--a beacon of hope and love. He had withstood the havoc, and now his spirit sought mine, resonating with a connection that transcended physical realms. His survival was not merely a relief but a profound driving force that pulled me back toward life, toward our shared existence.
"Return to where you are needed, to where your heart truly belongs. Brian awaits," Gaia's voice, resonant with unwavering support, guided me towards reawakening. Her smile, a fading beacon of wisdom, gifted me a gentle farewell as she receded into the vastness that surrounded us.
As her presence dissipated, my consciousness began its journey homeward, drawn like a moth to the unmistakable flame of love. In this liminal space, Brian's essence was the singular truth that anchored me--my beacon through the void, compelling me to embrace life's rich tapestry once more.
"Brian, hold on, I am on my way," I silently vowed, my spirit surging with purpose as I navigated the intangible expanse that bridged the gap between here and there. The promise of our shared future, the warmth of his presence, all within reach--this was the reality I yearned to return to, the life I chose to fight for.
With every metaphorical step, Brian's voice grew clearer, his song a melodic compass in the otherwise silent expanse of the void. His angelic tones were the very essence of hope and devotion, the sound that would shepherd me out of the shadows and back into the world of light and life.
The lyrics of "As Long as You Love Me" resonated through the growing clarity, each word a testament to our bond, a lighthouse in the gloom. "People say I'm crazy, and that I am blind, risking it all in a glance. How you got me blinded is still a mystery. I can't get you out of my head. Don't care what is written in your history as long as you are here with me," he sang, his voice imbued with emotion.
The song, one of our shared treasures, wove its way into the core of my being. Each note, a thread pulling me closer, hastening my return as the faint echoes of the void dissipated. Brian's love was the force luring me back--back to his side, back to 'us.' His song was more than a serenade; it was a beacon of unwavering love, reaching me even in this in-between place, promising that as long as we held onto each other, everything would be alright.
The beacon of Brian's voice guided me, and I clung to it with every fiber of my being until a tangible sensation eclipsed the auditory -- the feel of his hand clasping mine. Through that contact flowed a torrent of emotion: his love, his worry, a lifeline drawing me back. With heightened focus, I willed my eyelids to part and was greeted by the sight of those deep, azure eyes -- windows to the soul I held dear.
"Hey," I managed, my voice a raspy echo of its usual self.
Brian's response was instantaneous, a smile breaking across his face as pure joy replaced the concern. Then, with no restraint, he leaned in for a kiss--a connection so fervent that it transcended words. "Mike, thank God!" he exclaimed between breaths.
I returned his kiss with depth, sealing the reunion. Indeed, waking up had never felt so affirming nor so sweet.
Panting from the intensity of our exchange, Brian found his voice amidst gasps of relief. "I'm so glad you're okay," he conveyed, each word imbued with profound love, his relief palpable as the air we shared.
"I am fine, thanks to you," I assured him, reinforcing the sentiment with a gentle squeeze of his hand. He was the anchor in my storm, the motive behind each daunting trial I faced. His love, my heart--a living embodiment of Gaia's poignant affirmation: "The power is yours."
Brian retreated just enough to peer into my eyes, searching for signs of my well-being, his brow knit with concern. "Hey you, how are you feeling?" he inquired gently.
As my powers gradually returned, the corrosive weight of Clark's hate dissolved in the face of Brian's profound affection. Yet, the physical toll on my body persisted, each bruise and ache manifesting starkly. "Like an F-18 Hornet crashed down on me," I confessed weakly, the analogy capturing the enormity of the pain that engulfed my frame.
The tension dissipated from Brian's visage, replaced by visible relief. "You really had us worried," he admitted the traces of lingering fear evident in his tone.
An apologetic smile crept across my face, muted by the exhaustion and residual guilt. "I'm sorry, Love," I offered, my smile lacking its usual brightness.
"Don't be, Mike. You have no idea how proud I am--and how much I love you," Brian reassured me, his embrace enveloping me in warmth and comfort.
Concern for the well-being of the others nudged at me. "How's everyone else?" I queried anxiously.
"They're all a bit rattled, understandably," Brian confided, a soft sigh escaping him.
The most critical question yet hung in the air, "Did anyone get hurt?"
With a comforting firmness, Brian responded, "No, Mike. Everyone's safe, thanks to you." His words, a balm to my spirit, alleviated the worry that had been gnawing at me amidst the havoc.
Relief cascaded through me with Brian's confirmation, carrying away the final remnants of fear that had clung tenaciously to my conscience. "You can't imagine how that eases my mind," I breathed out, feeling the metaphorical burden ease from my shoulders.
Despite the comfort, questions lingered, demanding clarity amidst the chaos. "What happened?" I pressed, making an effort to shift into a sitting position. I could almost feel a subtle thrum beneath the surface--a silent offering from the Earth itself--as it worked to replenish the energy I had so thoroughly expended.
I took a moment, gathering the fortitude provided by the very planet I fought to protect, ready to hear the full account of the aftermath that unfolded while I lay dormant in the realm of unconsciousness.
Brian recounted the timely intervention, "The X-Men stepped in just at the crucial moment, fighting off the last Sentinel and pulling you out of the fray when you went down. We managed to get an ambulance here, and they rushed you to Jefferson University Hospital."
I delved into my pocket, retrieving a business card that I handed over to Brian.
Curiosity furrowed his brow as he took it. "What's this?" he inquired.
I elaborated, "For future reference if I ever need emergency care again, take me to the Veterans Affairs Hospital. The VA still covers most of my medical treatment."
Confirming his understanding, Brian securely tucked the business card away in his wallet. "I won't forget, love."
A heavy silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. I averted my gaze from Brian, feeling a surge of remorse for the peril I had brought upon us all.
The emotional dam breached, and tears edged into my eyes. With a quiver in my voice, I voiced my regret, "I am so sorry I put you guys in that kind of danger." Each word was steeped in sincere contrition, reflecting the deep-seated responsibility I felt for the safety of those I loved.
Brian's hand was gentle as it guided my chin upward, coaxing me to meet his gaze -- those deep pools of blue that always seemed to see right through to my soul. His voice was steady and imbued with an unwavering love as he spoke, his words a testament to his abiding faith in me. "Mike, in facing down the insidiousness of hate, you did exactly what was necessary. You rose to the challenge and you triumphed," he said with admiration clear in his eyes.
The weight of what could have been pressed upon me. "If only I could have transformed into Sol or even changed into my Guardian costume, I could have reduced those Sentinels to mere rubble," I lamented the air heavy with regret.
To my surprise, Brian countered with genuine shock, coloring his words. "Mike, your powers were astounding as they were. You didn't need Sol or Guardian to be remarkable."
I shook my head, gripped by the implications of my actions. "But Brian, as Guardian, I can act without exposing Mike Pennock. Now, Clark believes I'm a mutant, which puts a target not just on my back but on all of ours."
"Mike," Brian interjected, attempting to offer his perspective.
Yet I interjected sharply, "No, Brian. While I can handle Sentinels with ease, the danger they pose to you and the others is real. I've studied every report and every encounter with these monster machines. The odds aren't in your favor without me, and I can't guarantee I'll always be there." Each word I uttered bore the gravity of potential consequences I may have inadvertently ushered in.
Brian's assurance helped to ease my uncertainty, his words working to undo the knots of anxiety and guilt within me. "Mike, if you hadn't acted, those Sentinels would have shown no mercy. The devastation would've been unimaginable. Your courage is what saved everyone," he said, his lips meeting my tear-streaked cheeks in a gentle caress.
Pulling back slightly but remaining close, Brian's voice carried an earnest admiration. "But more than your bravery, it was your words that truly resonated. Even in the absence of Sol's might, you wielded the Power of Heart with impeccable grace," he said, his words a tender echo of my innermost sentiments.
"Gaia was right about you," I spoke with renewed conviction, pressing a kiss to his hand in a silent vow of gratitude for his unwavering faith in both my strength and my humanity.
As the Earth's nurturing energies wove through me, mending my wounds and replenishing my depleted reserves, I tested my restored vitality with an attempt to rise. But my body failed, and I collapsed back onto the bed.
Brian, ever vigilant, was quick to my side, his hands supporting me. "Mike, take it easy," he urged, a note of worry coloring his plea.
"Just checking on my energy levels," I admitted, a flush of embarrassment warming my cheeks.
"And?" he pressed, expecting more.
"A bit low still; my equilibrium is still out of wack," I confessed, the heat in my cheeks intensifying.
Brian, resolute in his care, guided me back into a reclining position. "Then you need to rest," he stated firmly, ensuring I was settled comfortably on the hospital bed.
I quipped lightheartedly, "Just making sure you're there to catch me."
Matching my gaze with unwavering sincerity, Brian declared, "Mike, I will always catch you."
Grasping his hand in mine, I reciprocated the promise. "And I will always be there for you, Brian."
His laughter was light and full of affection as he teased, "Good to know. Now, no more testing--lay back."
Reassured by Brian's presence and the healing embrace of the Earth beneath me, I allowed myself to relax further into the bed. "The Earth's got me, Bri. I'll recover," I assured him, comforted by his proximity and the steady return of my strength.
As Brian considered his response, the hospital room door swung open, admitting a motley crew of familiar faces. Jean Grey and Scott Summers entered, flanked by Nick and the rest of the Backstreet Boys. AJ approached first, his embrace a manifestation of concern and camaraderie. "Mike, how are you feeling?" he asked, the warmth in his hug palpable.
Kevin followed suit with a proud clasp of my shoulders. "You really stepped up, Mike. We're all proud of you."
As Kevin stepped back, Howie leaned in with a sincere smile. "You've got the biggest heart, man."
Seeing their faces and hearing their voices, the sense of relief was immense and palpable. It's one thing to be told everyone is safe, but another altogether to witness it firsthand. My heart swelled with uncontainable joy--each of them unharmed, intact, and vibrant as ever. Any remnants of pride I may have clung to dissipated--my family was safe, and that eclipsed all else. The presence of Scott and Jean only added to the comfort enveloping the room.
They each took their turn, offering hugs and kind words. The outpouring of love was more than just emotional support -- it was a tonic, aiding the balance and restoration of my still-rebounding energies.
"I'm on the mend now, especially knowing all of you are unscathed," I said with a heartfelt smile, reflecting genuine gratitude and an affection that knew no bounds. Their solidarity was my true source of strength, and in that, I found my greatest power.
Jean's calm demeanor anchored the room as she spoke, "That's good to hear," marking her and Scott's official presence.
Spotting the iconic X-Men duo caught me off guard. "What are you guys doing here?" I inquired, my surprise evident as they each offered a firm handshake, while Brian settled in next to me, holding me in a protective embrace.
The group instinctively closed ranks, forming a tight circle that promised privacy within the busy hospital setting.
Scott divulged their unexpected involvement. "We were there at Buca di Beppo when you faced off against Clark."
"Really?" I let out a small gasp, astonished that they had been there and I hadn't noticed.
Jean gave a playful snicker. "You had your hands full," she gestured towards the Backstreet Boys, then recalled with a gleeful tone, "and that poor valet you definitely didn't mince words with."
My cheeks felt warm from the memories. "That wasn't exactly my finest moment," I admitted.
Nick couldn't help but chime in, contrasting my modesty with a sharper rebuke of our uninvited guest. "No that came later, you were at your best when Clark came bulldozing in like he owned the place," he said.
Eager for an update, curiosity colored my question. "So, what became of him?" I adjusted myself in bed, noting with satisfaction that my energy levels had finally stabilized.
Nick revealed Clark's outcome with a mix of amusement and contempt. "Oh, he bolted as soon as his Sentinels were down for the count. You should've seen him--total 180," he recalled, a triumphant edge in his smile followed by a slight tremor at the recollection.
Brian assisted me to my feet, his support as solid as ever.
Howie added his reflection on the day's events. "The words you spoke, Mike, they were chilling--in all the right ways," he shared.
I stood, fueled by the memories. "And I stand by every single one," I affirmed.
Yet amidst the nods of agreement, Nick's puzzlement surfaced. "There's something I still don't understand, Mike."
With my full attention now on Nick, I prompted him to voice his query. "What's that?"
Nick's contemplation brought on an endearing gesture as he closed one eye and scratched his head, searching through his memories. It was a gesture that underscored his youth and the upbeat spirit he brought to even the most tense of moments.
"You were dominating those Sentinels left and right--heck, two went down by a single strike," he reminisced, his tone tinged with awe.
Kevin, seizing a lull in the conversation, added buoyantly, "And with just one city bus!"
Grinning, I affirmed, "And I managed to keep that bus perfectly unscathed."
Laughter rippled through our small gathering, but I turned my focus back to the crux of Nick's quandary. "What I think Nick is getting at is, why did the last Sentinel pose such a challenge?" I probed, urging him to elaborate on his concern.
Nick nodded, his expression growing serious again. "Among all those Sentinels, it was the final one that nearly did you in," he remarked with a hint of trepidation.
Facing Nick, I offered a simple explanation. "My powers can be influenced by toxic forces," I clarified, hinting at the undercurrents of something much deeper--a battle not just of body but also of spirit, where outside malevolence could tip the scales.
Howie, trying to piece together the puzzle, intervened with his theory. "So, was there some kind of toxic substance in the last Sentinel?" he proposed, seeking clarity.
I corrected him with a slight shake of my head. "No, it wasn't the Sentinel. My abilities could have still combated that. It was Clark--he was the contaminant."
My response sparked a new level of interest among the X-Men, their attention was piqued by the revelation. I met their gazes firmly. "This is where my experience diverges from that of mutants," I declared.
Jean and Scott reflected solemn sadness, a tacit understanding of the breadth of what I faced.
Scott inched closer, driven by both concern and curiosity. "What could Clark possibly wield that would threaten you so intensely?" he pressed for answers.
I faced the X-Men, my countenance imbued with empathy for their plight, which mirrored my own in that moment. "His hatred for mutants--that was the true toxin," I disclosed. The gravity of that admission elicited a chorus of shocked inhalations from all but Brian, who held me with a knowing steadiness, unfazed by the depth of animosity that could rival even the most palpable of physical dangers.
Brian nodded, understanding the toxic dynamics at play. "Exactly. Clark's enmity is as harmful as any noxious substance; it wields the same potential for harm," he sighed, his gaze clouded with the gravity of what I had endured.
Nick shifted uncomfortably, yet voiced a legitimate curiosity. "But Mike, you've faced off against genuine evil, like vampires. How does that differ from Clark's mutant-phobia?" He then hastily addressed Scott and Jean, eager to clarify, "I mean, there's no justifiable hatred towards mutants, of course."
Jean couldn't help but let out a light laugh, affirming that she took no offense. "Don't worry, Nick; your point is taken. It does seem like Mike's drawing a fine line."
Faced with their collective bewilderment, I expounded on the distinction. "Vampires embody evil without the personal vendetta; they're driven by their nature, not malice."
"Exactly. Most vampires are without a soul. They don't operate on the basis of feelings, whether positive or negative. They're demonic by their very essence," I added, aiming to delineate the line between the inherent malevolence of vampires and the specific, targeted hatred Clark wielded. This comparison brought forth a few chuckles from the group, lightening the moment with understanding.
I sought to clarify further for Nick, driving home the crucial distinction. "Vampires, demons--they exist without souls, void of the capacity for hate. That's part of why Sol is vital, acting as a buffer against inherently dark entities," I explained.
Jean interjected with a recollection, a counterpoint to my argument. "But you've confronted human hatred before. Like that man at the Mutant Awareness Charity," she pointed out.
I nodded, acknowledging her memory. "One of the key benefits of embracing Sol has been the amplification of my powers," I began, glancing toward Scott and Jean with a proposal already forming in my mind. "Which reminds me, I think it's time we scheduled additional training sessions."
I paused briefly, gathering my thoughts, before divulging the full truth. "My abilities have grown more potent--that's undeniable." My gaze locked with Jean's and Scott's, conveying the weight of my next words. "But in that same breath, I've become more susceptible to toxic influences like hatred because of the same enhancement to my powers," I admitted, laying bare the double-edged sword that came with my new abilities.
AJ was contemplative, piecing together the nuances of risks and vulnerabilities that came alongside heightened powers. "That sort of makes sense," he acknowledged, though the concept was a lot to absorb.
Nick, however, still wrestled with understanding. His hand found its way to the back of his head in a motion of befuddlement.
Seeking to bridge the gap in Nick's comprehension, I drew a parallel to something closer to his and the group's hearts. "Think about our conversations regarding the impact of your music, Nick," I prompted him gently.
AJ's memory sparked. "You mentioned the world rejoices in our songs," he recalled, thinking back on past exchanges.
Building on AJ's recollection, I elaborated, "It goes deeper than mere joy. Your songs radiate Hope, and that's what the world celebrates and resonates with." I paused for a brief moment, searching for clarity, then resumed, "Now, imagine Hate possessing the same pervasive force, amplified like a signal when someone like Clark wields it alongside fear and the threat of annihilation. That's how his hatred affects those attuned to emotions--like me." I hoped this metaphor would help them understand the power of emotions, both positive and negative, on those sensitive to them, especially due to their amplified abilities.
Nick's bemused expression softened under the collective wisdom of the group. I offered a smile to break through his puzzlement. "Nick, you're grappling with the notion of hate, something inherently irrational and inexplicable," I said, hoping to ease his mental struggle.
Brian then added his two cents, underlining the futility of Nick's quest for comprehension. "You're endeavoring to understand the very essence of hate and evil, Nick--both defy rational explanation," he pointed out, a sentiment that resonated with everyone present.
Continuing the thought, I said, "And just as hate and evil cannot fathom the depths of love and hope, we can't wrap our heads around something so devoid of humanity."
Nick's gaze was introspective as he unveiled the crux of his conundrum. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around how hate could affect you so powerfully," he admitted.
AJ then stepped forward, clarifying with a conciseness that bolstered understanding. "Look, Nick, hate's a toxic force--we've all seen its destructive capacity. It devours everything in its path, including the hater."
I nodded in agreement and addressed Nick directly, "Don't berate yourself for not grasping it entirely. To understand such hate would require us to shed something essential--our empathy, our humanity. I'm right there with you; I too can't comprehend how such animosity can fester in the human heart." My final words conveyed a shared sense of bewilderment at the darker aspects of humanity that stood in stark contrast to the love and unity we cherished.
The doctor's arrival brought a brief interruption to our discourse. With a practiced eye, he evaluated my condition and, though surprised to find me upright and conversing animatedly, he granted me a clean bill of health with the strict instructions for rest.
Brian, ever the cautious caretaker, nodded dutifully at the doctor's directive, ensuring I would heed this medical advice without dispute. Thus, as we departed the hospital, Steve assumed the role of chauffeur, gracefully shuttling us from the premises--with the band disembarking at their hotel and myself homeward bound.
Once settled in the comfort of my own space, I reached out to the Lair. "Dave, can you hear me?" I inquired into the communication system.
Dave's prompt response was reassuring. "Yes," he answered.
A tinge of concern laced his next question. "How are you feeling?"
With a deep breath, I replied, "I've had better days, but the Earth is taking care of everything."
Dave's voice carried a note of pride over the line. "We witnessed your tactical ballet against those monolithic antagonists. Your performance was nothing short of commendable," he praised, affirming the valiant stand I had taken.
In the core of me, his words fostered a renewed sense of accomplishment, another affirmation that the trials I had endured were not just personal victories but triumphs for all those who stood for justice and peace.
The faintest chuckle escaped me, a wry acknowledgment of the recent events. "I suppose the city's owed reparations for borrowing their bus in the heat of battle," I quipped, adding a lightness to my tone that contrasted with the stark atmosphere that had settled.
But the levity was fleeting; my voice adopted a steely edge as I addressed the true crux of the conflict. "It's a rarity, but those Mechanical Menaces weren't the primary issue this time," I admitted over the phone.
Dave tuned in to my changed demeanor, a sign I had more to impart. "What's on your mind, Mike?" he inquired, a subtle readiness in his voice for the task at hand.
I dove straight into my concerns. "Can you have BEATTI delve into the Friends of Humanity? I want full details on whether they were behind the attack on the Mutant Awareness Charity. They've revealed themselves and it's time we returned the courtesy," I instructed, ready to shine a light on the darkness of their deeds.
Dave's response was prompt and pragmatic. "What exactly would you like to uncover?"
"Everything," I demanded. "I want to intensify our surveillance on these fanatics and their tech terrors," I affirmed with resolve.
"I'll set BEATTI to work. We'll be prepared to be their worst nightmare. Expect comprehensive intel by the time you're back on your feet," Dave assured.
"Ok," I concluded, severing the line and allowing myself to recline once more, heeding the physician's orders. As I lay there, I allowed the Earth's restorative embrace to tend to my weary form, a convalescence that would replenish my energy and bolster me for the challenges ahead.
Hades' domain was the shadowy netherworld, the realm of the departed spirits, where his sovereignty was absolute. As ruler of the underworld, he harbored aspirations that breached the confines of his darkened kingdom, vying for dominion over the living as well as the dead. Dealmaker to souls and schemer of the celestial court, he would ally with anyone who could advance his machinations, regardless of allegiance--provided their actions benefited his sprawling agenda.
Yet, for all his cunning and might, Hades' ambitions were invariably curbed by the elemental forces of Earth and the venerable Titaness herself, Gaia. His enmity for Zeus, the omnipotent king of the gods, was as legendary as the thunderbolt-wielder's own power. Equally, he loathed his dauntless nephew Hercules, a demi-god whose heroism was sung by mortal and immortal voices across time.
Their conflict was age-old, etched into the fabric of myth and legend. Twice Hades' grandiose plots to usurp the throne of Olympus had been thwarted by the combined strength of the god of thunder and the lionhearted Hercules. But the tides had shifted with Zeus' banishment from the celestial realms and the tragic demise of Hercules, taken by treachery's sting--a poisoned arrow that brought low the indomitable warrior
In the absence of these formidable guardians, the stage was set, and the dark god's aspirations were renewed. Hades grasped at the chalice of power with both hands, ready to sow discord and seize control in a new age, bereft of his celestial adversaries' protection.
The hourglass of fate was swiftly depleting, and Hades, ever the strategist, was poised to strike. He harbored an ancient ambition--a resurgence of the formidable Titans, primordial beings of immense strength, whom Zeus and his divine kin had vanquished. These elder gods once presided over a primordial world before their exile to the depths of Tartarus, a purgatorial abyss.
Hades held the key--a secret tool shrouded in shadow--that had the power to unbar the gates of this infernal prison. Patience had been his silent ally, his watch enduring through centuries, awaiting an astronomical confluence where planets would align, heralding an era-defining vortex. This cosmic maelstrom possessed the might to shift the very oceans, unveiling the sepulcher of the Titans.
The forecast was etched in the stars. The planets would soon find their arrangement, and upon their alignment, the Titans would ascend. Their return, Hades envisioned, would steamroll the realms of men, leaving nothing but subservience in its wake. As the deities were razed from their thrones, Hades would emerge triumphant, heralded as the new sovereign of the gods and the supreme overlord of all creation.
However, an obstacle yet loomed--the one called Mike Pennock, whose mortal hands wielded the elemental majesty of Sol. Hades recognized the threat posed by this guardian of Earthly harmony and orchestrated the perfect foil--a confidant turned adversary. A surging betrayal was fomenting, and the duplicitous shadow of deception was poised to ensnare Mike, the unwary sentinel.
With calamitous schemes stirring and pawns in position, the god of the underworld was ready to cast the die, trusting that treachery would secure his long-sought victory.
To be continued
As if Guardian doesn't have enough on his plate we have Hades' plot coming along and Howie's involvement can Guardian handle what is to come.
Please remember to Donate to Nifty
Please tell me what you think at3unit3@yahoo.com
All comments are welcome
I also recommend the following stories it was because of them I got into writing in the first place.
"Tales of a Real Dark Knight" by authorjames
"Marvel Knights" also by authorjames
"Tales of the New Phoenix" by Blake
"Tales of a Superhero Band" by Leo
"Tales of a Young Mutant" by Jeremi
"Tales of a Thunder God" by Tony Justiss