Category Archives: Writing

Agents of Shield: At the Heart: Vena Cava

pageVena Cava is the star of my fanfiction Agents Of Shield: At the Heart


She has an amazing power to take the energy from other people’s heart to temporarily gain superhuman abilities. These catch the eye of Shield and Coulson is sent in to extract her.


Cava ends up on Coulson’s team–but it’s still undeterminable whether she will stay faithful to the team or take them all down with her in a mass of crazy energy.


Sound interesting? Start reading here:

Agents of Shield: At the Heart (chapter 3)

“Hey!” Skye jogged up to Cava, who was at the bar, getting some milk. “Hey. Can we talk?” She straightened her shirt, looking at the mellow girl who stood before her.

Vena Cava was a little shorter than Skye, about five foot seven. Her hair fell into her eyes in bangs that curved around her face and concealed her ears. Her clothes were loose and relaxed, the girl was almost the exact opposite of Skye in that she had no care about her appearance.

“I guess,” Cava replied evenly, and sat down. Skye took a seat across from her, supressing a large grin, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“So,” Skye began, eager to learn about her newest team mate-for once, Skye wouldn’t be the newb. “Do you like computers?”

“I guess, but I just mess around on the internet.”

“Doing what?” Skye asked, hoping that maybe Cava was into computer science as much as her.

“Oh just posting stories and fan fictions online, for the most part, but I take practice tests and classes, too.” Cava sipped her milk.

“Oh,” Skye didn’t do a very good job of hiding her slight disappointment as she looked down and broke eye contact with Cava. “What kinds of fanfics do you write?”

Cava’s normally even complexion and expression broke into one of embarrassment; she blushed red and stuttered, “U-um, a lot of them are based on manga and videogames. . .but some are about the Avengers. . .”

Skye did a bad job of smothering a laugh. “Pfft. What? The Avengers? That’s awesome.”

A small smile appeared on Cava’s face. “Really?”

In the hall, Coulson listened carefully to the conversation between the two girls. At the sound of Cava’s Avengers fan fictions, his curiousity peaked and he just had to step out and ask: “Is Captain America a main character in any of them?”


“You can sleep here.” Ward pointed Cava to one of the small bunk rooms on the jet. Each room was almost closet sized, with a small cot taking up half the space. In the rest there was a small bedside table, where a book rested with evacuation procedures for the jet.

“Okay,” Cava nodded, glancing up at the large man beside her. He was starting to seem like an older brother to her.

“I bunk in the one right next to you, so if you need anything in the night, just knock on my door.” Ward offered.

“Okay. . .” Cava repeated. “Um, I don’t have any clothes to change into. . .”

“We have that taken care of.” Phil walked in on the two. “Here.” He handed her a bag, which she opened to reveal military-style clothing.

“Thanks,” Cava forced a small smile onto her lips. Coulson nodded.

“Get some rest. We’re stopping tomorrow to take a look around the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier.”

Cava tried to contain her sudden excitement at going to the same place where the Avengers had met. “Um, for what?”

“Fury wants to meet our newest member.” Coulson winked.

Cava’s face fell. “Um. . .he’s not pissed at me is he?”

Coulson shook his head. “Nope. No worries. Now you should all get some rest.”


Sometime in the middle of the night, when the entire team was asleep, Grant Ward’s bunk door slid open with a quiet hiss. The tall man walked the few steps to Cava’s door, then hesitated outside it. His hand hovered directly over the handle for a moment before he depressed the button and the door slid open.

From the moonlight streaming through the small window, Ward could see Cava fast asleep beneath the heavy white blankets on her bed. She was deeply asleep, he could tell she was dreaming by the way her eyes moved beneath her eyelids and the soft murmurs that came out of her mouth, words indestinguishable in real life, but all too clear in her dreams.

Ward smiled slightly, just for an instant, before it disappeared and, satisfied, he turned and left her room, going back to bed.


Cava lunged at Ward, aiming a punch at his shoulder. He easily blocked her, sweeping her fist aside and moving in to jab at her ribs. She countered with a swift tap on his left collarbone, and tried to step back from him.

Suddenly her feet were swept out from under her and she was staring up at the ceiling, breathless.

“Better,” Ward said, “That’s all for today.” He stated. Then May said something over the intercomm;

“Get in your bunks. We’re landing.” She announced, and everyone went to their assigned bunks.

May lowered the jet and the wheels touched down flawlessly onto the runway of the helecarrier, the plane catching on the hook on the surface of the flying aircraft carrier and coming to a full stop. Phil Coulson’s team lined up outside of the doors, and they opened, the staircase lowered to the ground so they shoulder exit.

The group filed out, Skye and Cava last in line. As she emerged onto the helecarrier, Cava expected to see ground surrounding them.

Instead, they were floating on clouds.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Skye said, stunned herself. “This is. . .whoa.”

Ward rolled his eyes. “What did you expect, S.H.I.E.L.D’s HQ to just be floating on the sea where anyone could bomb it?”

“We just landed a jet on their “HQ”. I don’t think it would be too hard to bomb their carrier on the sky.” Skye shot back.

“Who’s bombing what?” A deep voice asked, Ward and Skye straightened guiltily, while Fitz and Simmons smiled nervously, eager to talk to Fury as he approached them. “Who’s the new kid?” Fury rose an eyebrow at Cava.

“Um, me.” Cava said nervously.

“Nice to meet you,” Fury offered his hand. “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Agents of Shield: At the Heart (chapter 2)

Ward lowered Cava down onto a stretcher in the middle of Fitz and SImmons’ lab. The two scientists immediately began examining the unconscious girl, while Coulson, May, Skye, and Ward stood in the background, observing their colleagues at work.

“So, does anyone understand what happened back there? I mean. . .she was kicking Ward’s ass.” Skye said, looking up at Ward, who merely rolled his eyes at the sassy young woman with her hand on her hip.

“She absorbed the electrical energy from the heart of the old man that collapsed back there.” Simmons began, moving a tablet above Cava’s chest and an x-ray image popped up.

“It sped up her heart rate and reflexes. . .” Fitz added.

“But no human’s heart can sustain that level of energy for long.”

“So when she ran out of the extra electrical energy, her heart ran completely stopped beating-”

“But she woke back up.” Skye interjected, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder. “How did it restart?”

“Your heart,” Simmons began to explain, turning from her patient to face Skye and the others, all of whom were listening intently, “generates an electrical impulse to contract itself on its own, it doesn’t depend on the brain to send an impulse to it, telling it to contract. But from what we’ve gathered. . .” She paused a moment to pull up a series of photos on the tablet, then walked over and held the screen up before the group.

“Vena Cava’s heart can’t create an impulse to start itself.” Fitz joined his friend. He then gestured to an image of Cava’s heart on the table. “You see this little black. . .smudge on top of it here? By the aorta?”

May nodded. “And?”

“That’s an electrical device that can actually take electrical energy from other people’s hearts and transfer it to her own via radio signals.” Simmons said, containing the excitement she held at this incredible discovery of new techonology. “When she touches someone’s skin, it can absorb more.”

“But she was superhuman-even running on a high, she couldn’t have been that strong.” May mentioned.

“Yeah, she put up a fight against Ward even.” Skye raised an eyebrow at the said agent.

“I will admit it was hard to get a hold on her, yes.” Ward said evenly, containing the frustration rising up in him at Skye’s cocky attitude. He’d like to see her try and fight Cava.

“The implant supposedly activates to its full absorbtion potential when it senses a raise in the adrenaline percentage in the blood.” Fitz replied, “We aren’t sure how yet, but it reduces the amount of lactase – waste products -” He explained at Skye’s quizzical look, “In the muscles and boosts her strength by shutting down blood flow to unneeded organs and systems-the digestive system, the skin, etc.”

“Is there a way to remove it?” Phil asked, curious whether they would actually need to remove the girl’s implant.

Simmons’s face fell. “Not without killing her at the moment, no. It’s right inside the wall of the aorta-surgery would kill her.”

Suddenly a moan issued from behind them; May and Ward instantly went to the table side. Cava was blinking her eyes slowly, looking blearily up at the two agents that had subdued her. Still bleary from the drug, she brought a heavy hand up and rubbed her eyes, turning on her side. “Where am I?” She asked quietly.

Coulson walked over, gesturing for Skye to follow. “You’re in the custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’re safe.”

Cava’s eyes widened and she tried to stand up. “Didju. . .arrest me?” She mumbled, having a hard time getting her mouth to work.

May pushed her back down onto the table. “Take it easy. Your body has taken a lot of strain.”

“But I gotta go. . .” Cava, again, tried to sit up.

When Ward moved to push her back down onto the table, Coulson held a hand up. “Let her.” He watched as Cava swung her legs over the table and stood on the ground, facing them.

“Where am I?” She repeated her before question, looking around the lab.

Coulson forced a smile. “C’mon.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Let me show you around.”


Coulson sat down across from Cava, who was expecting a long talk about how she had been sentenced to life in prison. The clean white couch that they sat upon was comfortable, curved so that since the two sat on oppposite ends, they could face each other.

Coulson slid a cup across the glass table top towards Cava.

“Here. Have a coaster.” He stated, sliding a coaster across to her as well. “Do you know why you’re here?” He asked, as she picked up the glass, tentatively sniffed its contents, and took a sip. Apple juice.

“No. . .” She answered quietly, setting her glass down on the coaster before her.

“You have a strange. . .power.” Coulson chose his words carefully. “We can help you control it.”

Cava looked down at her feet, memories of attacking innocent stand-byers, compleretly out of her own control with the power that she stole from others. . .She hated herself for it. All she didn was victimize people with her strength.

“You’re going to have to give something in return,” Coulson continued.


Phil took a breath. “My team extraced you from Seattle; this is our jet. Will you work with us?”

Cava hesitated, so Coulson went on. “In return for your service here, you’lll get medical help, learn about your powers, get training, and protection from anyone who would want to use you.”

“Use me?”

“Multiple organizations have shown a great – and dangerous – interest in the technology implanted in your heart. They’d stop at nothing to kidnap and experiment on you.”

With a deep breath, Cava nodded. “Okay. Count me in!”


“Show me your fighting stance,” Ward ordered, standing before Cava and Skye in the training room.

Cava bent her knees, raising her fisted hands before her face, with her elbows out.

Skye assumed a similar position, but had to check her stature and posture while Cava melted into the position naturally. “How can you do that so well?” Skye raised a quirky eyebrow at the younger girl beside her.

“Okay,” Ward interrupted, assuming the same position as the two women before him, but with his hands open and palms flat, facing towards them. “Hit me with all you’ve got. Skye, you go first.”

Cava watched as Skye pummeled Ward’s hands until he signaled for her to stop by straightening his posture. She wore a superior smile and looked proud of herself as she brushed a strand of brown hair out of her face.

Ward moved in front of Cava, putting his hands in front of his body again. “Okay, Cava, your turn. Hit me as hard as you can.”

“I can’t.” The teen argued.

“Why not?” Skye and Ward asked at the same time.

“Because. . .” She began. Ward’s and Skye’s expressions pried into her. “Because if I do, I’ll kill you both.”

Ward nodded. “Well. . .” He hesitated a moment. “Just. . .hit me as hard as you can without using your powers.”

Cava nodded. “If my adrenaline gets up, I’ll lose control. You have to knock me out before I spend all my energy or my heart will stop. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ward stated.

“Please,” Cava pleaded. “Don’t let me hurt anyone.”

Ward looked into her eyes to add weight to his words. “Don’t worry. I won’t. Now, hit me!” Cava drew her fist back, slamming it into Ward’s palm so hard that he dropped his arm and rubbed his wrist.

“Damn.” He muttered, “And that’s without your powers?”


I love it! I want to keep reading!

Agents of Shield: At the Heart (chapter 1)

Seattle, October 26th 2013

Cava pushed her way through the crowd, trying her hardest not to let her skin touch another human being. She reached a hand up and brushed at the bangs of her shaggy brown hair, attempting to get the mess out of her eyes, but it fell right back in her face. And even though it had been growing out, it was still so short that most people thought she was a boy.

She listened to her heart beat, its rate quickening. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man pulling a knife out of his pocket, and moving towards her. Adrenaline pumped through her body, and she turned to face the man now plunging towards her with the knife, a crazed look in his eyes. .


Five minutes earlier. . .

Agent Phil Coulson stood outside of a cafe, surveying the crowd beside his partner, May. The two held a cup of coffee each, but neither even took a sip as they watched the crowd in seach of one face.

Vena Cava was a point of interest to S.H.I.E.L.D, not because her name was exotic, but for her unusual powers. The identification photos that Skye had dug up for them weren’t the best-and the info on her didn’t even give them a current residence.

“Is she homeless or what?” Skye said over the radio earpieces that the whole team had. “Fitz? Simmons? Do either of you guys have anything on your. . electro-thingy-ma-jig?”

Simmons shortly replied over the radio, the scientist instantly launching into teacher-mode. “Yes. Barely. The electrocardiogram is picking up traces of energy deprivation and absorption, and abnormal tachycardia rhythm. . .”

“Meaning?” Skye replied.

“Meaning,” Ward interrupted grumpily over the radio. “We’re getting close.”

“Stay sharp everyone,” Coulson muttered, finally taking a sip of his now cold coffee. “We’re just about-”

Suddenly, a woman in the crowd screamed, pointing to two people wrestling-one apparently attempting to slit the other’s throat; and on the ground beside the pair was a lifeless man. The woman knelt beside her husband, sobbing hysterically.

“He’s had a heart attack! He’s dead!”

Inside of an internet cafe a block away, Fitz and Simmons did their best to look like they were on Facebook rather than pinpointing one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s targets. Simmons whispered to the others, “We’ve got an isolated case of complete cardiac arrest-there’s no electrical activity at all in this heart! And there’s massive energy absorption in another nearby: Keep an eye out for our girl!”

Coulson nodded, he and May walked towards the collasped man, now moving purposefully. They almost had her.


As soon as the man beside them collapsed, Cava felt a surge of power go through her body, her heart pounded and her muscles gained superhuman strength. The man attacking her had grabbed her bag and tossed it aside, but now he dragged her into the alley and tried to shove her to the ground.

Instead, Cava did a backflip and landed on her feet, in the position she had taught herself with her own special fighting style: Knees bent, hands in front of her face. She wished she had her gloves, bare-fist fighting took a tole on her poor hands. Nevertheless, as the crazed man dove at her, baring his knife before her, she grabbed his wrist and jammed it upward.

May rounded the corner into the alley while Coulson knelt beside the heart attack victm, laying on his back on the ground. Pressing two fingers against the man’s neck, he confirmed his teammates’ theory. “No pulse. He’s dead.”

Back in the alley, Cava had kneed the man in the stomach, quickly followed with an attack by May, who ripped the man off of her and slammed him into the ground, where he remained, unconscious. “Are you o-” She began to ask Cava, not expecting the girl to attack her, but she barely deflected the high kick that the teen threw at her.

She’s fast! May thought, not hesitating in going on the offensive.

Cava’s blood was boiling. Her heart beat with the extra electrical activity she had absorbed through the man that now lay in the middle of the sidewalk, dead. Her pulse was insanely fast-150 beats per minute, well above the norm even for children, whose hearts regularly beat at a higher rate than adults.

“Found our girl!” May exclaimed over the radio, and Ward instantly responded from his position.


“Alley by Coulson’s post.” May swept a leg across the ground, hoping to topple the adrenalized Cava, but it was no use. The girl slammed her fist down into May’s thigh, but the more experienced fighter didn’t even flinch at the pain this caused-even though she felt her entire leg quake. No teen could punch that hard. She thought to herself, then glanced up for just a fraction of a second, over Cava’s head as Ward came running down the alley, silently.

The tiny movement of May’s dark eyes alerted Cava of the enemy behind her, she turned on the large man and threw a punch at him. Ward was slightly surprised Vena Cava had lasted that long in a fight against some guy on the street and May-but he wasn’t about to go easy on her just because she was a kid.

“Whoa, kid’s got some spunk.” Skye laughed over the radio, watching them from video camera feeds in her van.

“Yeah,” Ward grunted, dodging the menagerie of moves that Cava threw at him, many connecting with surprising heaviness for the girl’s small, thin body.

Fitz crackled over the radio. “And her vitals are off the charts! Pulse is 150, Blood pressure is 170 over 110, and respirations are twenty five a minute!”

“Whoa. I’m guessing that’s a lot?” Skye muttered.

“It is a lot.” Phil walked down into the alley, where May was now waiting for the right opening to land a finishing blow on the rampaging Cava. “And I want to know why.”

Ward managed to get a hold of Cava’s wrist as she attempted to land a killing punch on his solar plexis. “You’re getting slower.” Ward noted, quickly twisting her arm around her back, forcing her to her knees.

“Now,” Phil walked up and knelt before the sweating, panting girl. “I want some answers. What exactly is it that you did back there?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cava said with vehemence, her brown hair that feathered onto her cheeks pasted to her face. Her complexion was rapidly losing its color, turning to a pale gray as her heart slowed down to normal, then lower. “I donno whatchu wan’ wi’ me. . .” She began to slur. The electrical activity in her heart was plunging as the pumping organ exhausted both the energy it had taken from the man laying on the street, now being revived by paramedics, and its ability to create its own.

“Pulse is plunging dangerously low! Almost no electrical activity~!” Simmons exclaimed. Cava suddenly slumped forward in Ward’s grip, completely losing consciousness as her heart slowed to a complete stop.

Suddenly Ward dropped Cava and the girl slumped to the ground.

“What’s the matter, Ward?” Phil asked, looking concerned as his fighter rubbed his chest; then all those present raised their hands to their hearts.

“What. . .the. . .hell?” Ward muttered, glaring at the girl lying unconscious on the ground. “I hate to admit it but. . .”

“She’s stealing electrical power from your hearts.” Fitz explained, eyeing the electrocardiograms of all the team and Cava. “But not much. It’s not as massive as before. . .Oh! Pulse is returning to normal in all of you!” He stated just as the pain in their chest diminished to nothing and Cava blinked her eyes open, heart now beating of its own accord.

“Wha. . .?” She asked no one in particular. What was she doing? Her body hurt; she felt heavy.

“May. Tranquilizer.” Phil ordered, and the addressed plunked a syringe, thick needled and heavy with liquid, into his hand.

“Wha’re you doin’?” Cava muttered sleepily, trying to stand but unable with weakened legs.

“Helping you,” Phil answered, plunging the syringe into her neck. The girl gasped, eyes widening momentarily and muscles tensing, before her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell backwards.

Cava listened to her heart beat, the incessant noise that accompanied her everywhere, that was her only friend, the only consistency in her life. She felt the drug crawl through her body, reaching her heart and slowing the muscle down until it spread through her, numbing her and casting her into deep, deep sleep.

We’re getting places! Stick around to see what happens next-will Cava join Coulson’s team, or will she rip their jet apart in a mass of crazy energy?

I love it! I want to keep reading!

Character Sheet: Kathreen Rainfield

Name: Kathreen Rainfield

Age: 18

Hair: brown

Eyes:  gray

Gender: female

Hair Style: short pixie cut

Skin: caucasian

Scars, tattoos, piercings, etc? None.

Contacts, glasses, or no? 20/20

Clothing? What’s their style? When she’s not in uniform, jeans and a t-shirt.

Are their clothes always sexy, showing off their figure? Or would your character be seen in sweats every now and again? She can’t wear sweats around because she lives in the fire station. But she dresses conservatively.

Does your character like to read? Write? Draw? She likes all three. But she’s not very good at drawing.

Skills: writing, first aid, fire fighting

Strengths: she’s strong (physically), she’s good at helping people in medical emergencies

Does your character speak any languages? If so, list them: English

Weakness. It’s important to have these in a character. It’s what gives the story interest. If your character didn’t have any weaknesses, the story would go by without any reader interest/attachment to the character. So, what’s it gonna be? Weakness: She’s terrified of fire and she’s not extremely physically strong so she can’t do as much as she needs to in the firefighting business. Her language learning skills are weak and she’s not very good at expressing herself  with words.

Does your character have many friends? A few? Does everyone love him/her even if they are rude? A few. She’s not rude, but she’s friends with her crew.

Let’s play the favorite game:

Books: Ambulance Girl, The Gift Of Fear, To Kill A Mockingbird

TV: Emergency!

Movies: The Matrix

Anime: Angel Beats

Manga: Lucky Star

Color: black and red

Style: Goth loli

Videogame: Halo Reach

Now write a short history on your character:

Kat’s family was killed in a house fire when she was seven years old. She grew up with her grandparents (now deceased) and became an EMT as soon as she could. Her grandfather had Alzheimer’s and lung cancer, and died almost immediately after she had had a car wreck.

How To: Make a realistic character

A lot of us like to write–poems, short stories, novels (at least attempts).  But none of us want to spend the time editing those stories or studying the grammar that will make our stories flow smoother and become and overall better reading experience.

If you’re like me, short stories are your thing. Maybe a chapter or two, or maybe you actually plan on building off of it for a novel. But the most important thing to a story are its characters. They don’t have to be people. Your character can be the barn that’s been falling apart for fifty years. But that is still a character.

But for now let’s focus on characters of the human type (at least humanoid–fantasy characters work, too.) One of the greatest downfalls many authors and online roleplayers is that their characters are Mary Sues–in other words, they’re characters are just too perfect. They’re good at everything, characters of the opposite gender (or sometimes the same) melt through the cracks when they come in the room, and everybody, everybody, wants their skillz.

There’s plenty of ways to flesh out a good characters and avoid Mary Sue-ing. Here’s a list of questions and basic stats that you can use to flesh out your character and then really make them realistic:







Hair Style:


Scars, tattoos, piercings, etc?

Contacts, glasses, or no?

Clothing? What’s their style?

Are their clothes always sexy, showing off their figure? Or would your character be seen in sweats every now and again?

Does your character like to read? Write? Draw?



Does your character speak any languages? If so, list them:

Weakness. It’s important to have these in a character. It’s what gives the story interest. If your character didn’t have any weaknesses, the story would go by without any reader interest/attachment to the character. So, what’s it gonna be? Weakness:

Does your character have many friends? A few? Does everyone love him/her even if they are rude?

Let’s play the favorite game:









Now write a short history on your character:



By looking at this you should have a good idea of who your character is. Want some more help working out the kinks? Post your character sheet in the comments below and I’ll help you fill them out.

There’s No Such Thing As Ghosts, There’s No Such Thing As Ghosts. . .

This is a short one-shot based on a dream I had. I wrote it months ago. . .but it’s supposed to be scary since it’s based off a nightmare. :/ Enjoy those who dare to read!

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Part 1

It was a beautiful day, warm weather, a light breeze, and fluffy clouds dotted the clear blue sky. I wheeled my bike around the back of my house, ready to put it away for the day. My brother faced me, fiddling with the chain on his bike. We had just got back from a ride around town together.

He looked up at me, wiping his hands on his pants, and smearing the dirt from them all over the front of the jeans. He was smiling, and he said something to me, but I didn’t hear it, something behind me monopolized my attention.

Cloaked in black, and carrying a suffocating air of fear and imminent death, a man stood on the roots of our old maple tree, watching us. His feet were bare, the cloak ending just above his ankles. The black cloaks draped over him covered half his face and ended just a little above his wrists, showing just enough skin to reveal the pale, flaking, corpse-like dermis that mirrored myself in some undeniable. . .

“Sis?” My brother snapped me out of my daze, and when I glanced back, the cloaked man was gone as if he had never existed.

I dismissed the man as an illusion of my overactive imagination. But the feeling if fear still lingered by the tree behind our house, so I never let my brother there alone.

Part 2

The sense of danger leaked into the house through my brother’s window, which gaped open on the back of the house, facing the large tree where shadows roamed and carried nightmares under their wings.

Even though it was only me and my brother at home, I sensed a third presence hanging in the closets, behind every door, under the floorboards, revealing its presence with every creak and moan of the house at night.

Footsteps across the roof, rippling my heart with fear. We were not alone.

Every closed door stared me down with threats of death and of something sinister hiding behind it. Was it the cloaked man? For an illusion, the picture of him in my mind was startlingly, disgustingly clear.

One day I decided to go into the garage. There was a wooden door leading to it in the kitchen, a door that never could stay shut, the latch broken. Always preferring to hang half open as opposed to being fully open or closed, I could not see straight into the garage as it was hidden behind the door.

It was as threatening as any other door, raising goosebumps, the hairs on my neck, and sleepless night all at once. The door creaked a little, as if in protest or warning, as I pulled it open toward me. I really did not expect to see anything, just feel the presence of death and hear the rattling breath, leaving my imagination to its own devices. . .

Standing among the boxes stacked was the cloaked man, mere feet from me, just off the three small steps off leading down into the garage. His head tilted back a little and his mouth opened to speak.

It was as if he had held a knife to my throat, every twitch of his fingers was like he was stringing me up in the gallows, every rattling breath a premonition of premature death. Stumbling back wards, I thrust the door shut angrily, and the door that never opened stayed shut as I fled the house into the bright, bright sunshine filtering through the trees.

Part 3

The pistol was black, much too large for my hands and too heavy for me to hold up straight, even with both hands. I practiced, aiming at the door but never putting more pressure than a feather on the trigger. I didn’t need holes in everything, just the man that lived in my house with me and my brother, walking the halls at night and breathing on my face.

Would a gun kill him? Someone who moved with the shadows and walked softer than a breeze lifting curtains? I couldn’t shoot a shadow-

“SIS! JUN! COME HERE!” My brother’s voice was so loud it was hoarse, and I ran into his room so fast I must’ve flown. He sounded like he was being murdered, and I was ready to shoot anyone and anything that dared laid its hands on him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, but no one else was in the room but my brother, deadly pale and trembling. I followed his pointed finger across the room to a mounted metal box on the wall, barely larger than a microwave and previously containing the switchboard for our house.

Instead, two long legs clad in suit pant poked out, twisted and broken, pointing up and a little out from a body that must have been mangled and shoved horribly to fit a grown man (as it appeared to be) in such a tiny box.

My mouth fell open, my hand gripping the pistol fell to my side. I couldn’t kill a dead man. Taking my brother by the hand, I left him in the living room. Without a word I turned to the door, my jaw set and face determined.

The pistol was heavy in my hand, but not as heavy as I knew the garage door would be as I pulled it open.

Maybe the cloaked man wouldn’t be there. Maybe you don’t have to shoot him. Just leave the door closed.

I took a step forward, towards the door.

Leave the door closed. It’s okay, he’s not there, this is all in your imagination, you crazy girl, you’re crazy, so crazy! Nothing’s there!
The sound my foot made upon the floor as I stepped forward once again seemed to echo across the world, through the house, announcing I was approaching.


I approached the door, opened it, and there he was, the cloaked man that stalked me and shoved dead bodies into tiny boxes. Raising the gun, I fired just as the man parted his mouth to speak, hitting him right in the center of the chest.

He gasped, his hood falling back enough I could see his cold gray eyes and the yellow whites surrounding them. His hands hovered over the wound, trembling in shock or pain, as if he was surprised at the cheek of my endeavor, and the swiftness and merciless way in which I carried it out.

Thinking I had won, I lowered the gun, though my finger was still on the trigger. Doubt returned to my heart though, as he glowered at me with eyes so angry they might’ve glowed red. His hands lowered, his lips trembled.

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” He bellowed, lunging for me. His hands grabbed for my neck.

I fired once, twice, three, and then four times more, all too far to the right, missing him and sending my chances of survival farther and farther from my gasp. I forgot to breathe, but I knew that the last bullet had to count, had to kill him. So I took a second to aim, just one second, one second that spelled the end of my life before I could tap the trigger. . .

The man fell backwards, dead, with a hole in his forehead.

Why Emile Has A Skull On His Helmet

 Why Emile Has A Skull On His Helmet

How Emile got a skull on his helmet. One shot, please review.

” Mommy, who is he? “, I asked, dragging in the robot behind me. For some reason, this scared the life out of my mother. For a robot, he moved pretty fluidly. I was a bit surprised when I saw him creeping around the house, but I figured out he was only a little shy, so I introduced myself and took him in to see Momma. That was kinda hard because he kept trying to pull away, and saying rude things. He even talked to someone through a radio, and it sounded like that person was laughing hard, so I figured they were good robots. Every time he pulled away from me, I grabbed him again, and he said some bad word, and the voice on the radio laughed again. I marched him right into the house to Momma.

” Who are you? “, Mommy asked. The robot took off his head then, because someone behind Mom told him to, and I found out he was not a robot, but a man in a suit, and so was the person behind Mom.

These people started talking to Mom about taking me away to a school, and she didn’t seem very happy at the mention of that. I heard the word “Spartan” tossed around quite a bit, and wondered if that was what the robot/men were. While I tried to listen, they got into a really, really boring conversation. The helmet the man had on his head was sitting on the floor next to the couch, so I snuck up and dragged it away into my room. It was super-heavy, shaped like a dome and plain in the front. It shone a little in the light from my lamp, but it was so plain I wanted to do the man a favor and decorate it, so I got down the permanent markers and glue to do so.

I couldn’t find anything to glue to it, and I was a bad drawer, but nonetheless, I braved it out and picked green, yellow, and pink as my colors. The man seemed grumpy, so, I thought, he might like to see some flowers from inside the helmet.

I began with the stems, in greens, but the helmet was a dome, so I slipped and made a third stem on accident. I repeated one of the words I heard him use. The yellow went on well, and the pink petals finished the look nicely. I even added a butterfly.

My mother’s footsteps thudded up the stairs to my room. For a second, I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have drawn on the helmet. Then I knew, because the big, shy man was behind Momma and she was swearing. ” Give me some white paint! “, he ordered Momma, and she got it right away, then scooped me up and told me to stay seated in the kitchen chair. The other two big robots still had their heads on, and went up to see my amazing work of art.

I waited a good fifteen minutes before the critics came down the stairs, with my original helmet. The big robot man was wearing the helmet, but instead of the bright scene I envisioned the portrait of a dead man’s white face covered the illustration completely. I’ll admit the sight shocked me at first, but I quickly recovered, and apologized by saying, “I’m sincerely sorry you did not like my artwork.”

The man/robotic thing seemed to look at me through his helmet, but he was called away by the others.

To this day, I still don’t understand why he didn’t like it. You just can’t please some people, I guess.

The Spartan candidate is not a canon character, I really don’t plan on adding to this story. But before I read the ‘Fistful Of Arrows’ comic, I had always wondered why Emile had a skull on his helmet, so I answered my own question. Wouldn’t it be funny if the kid that drew on Emile’s helmet was recruited and actually was taught by Emile? LOL

Spartan in the Sand: A Halo Reach, Fullmetal Alchemist crossover fanfiction

  “Hey! HEY, YOU!” Ed bellowed at his brother, Al. The desert sand was starting to blow around, and Ed didn’t really want to get stuck in another storm and have to dig Al out of the sand when he filled with sand again. “HEY, AL YOU SONUVA-!”

The tall figure turned to Ed and walked back to him. Ed’s long red trench coat was waving around violently, and his golden hair was coming out of it’s braid.”Finally,” he muttered as Al stood in front of him, “What the heck took you so long to answer?! We need to buckle down for the night. Look, I’ll transmute a building here so don’t get buried or anything while you wait.” Ed was about to clap his hands together when Al said,

“Are you lost, kid?” In a deep and accented voice. Ed jumped around, startled, to face the thing he thought was his brother. In reality, it was some kind of robot, with orange armor and a bug-like head o it’s body. It was not much taller than Al, but it was bulkier. It was also taller than Ed, and that ticked Ed off. “Are you looking for someone?”  He asked again in that accent. It was odd talking to someone with an accent in Amestria, there were virtually no immigrants in the country.

‘What if this guy’s with the Ouroboros?! Is he another supposed to be dead criminal, like Number 66?! And he has Al?!’ Ed thought, panicked. “What did you do with my brother, you—?!” Ed cried out, charging at the man in armor, only to be knocked right onto his back. Already, the sand was cutting into Ed’s cheeks, but the man was unhindered by the wind. He was remarkably strong, maybe more so than Al, he picked Ed up and slung him over his shoulder with ease.

‘This guy won’t know what hit ‘im!’  Ed thought, clapping his hands and pressing them onto the big man’s back. A blue light flashed, and Ed transmuted the metal into a cage that surrounded his kidnapper, attached to his own back.

The man started speaking, but not to Ed, apparently,”Commander, could use a little help out here. Ran into a little (“WHO YOU CALLING LITTLE?!”) trouble. . . might keep your distance. A cracked voice replied, and then Ed got it–there was a radio in the guy’s helmet! The Ouroboros must have stuck it in there, it probably wasn’t hard, seeing as the man’s helmet had to have been was empty!

Ed pried and threatened for twenty minutes, to no avail. He didn’t learn where Al was, or even if the Ouroboros had him. Al could be getting buried in sand this minute, and he’d never be able to find him!

Ed was getting angrier and angrier as the storm got worse. Finally, he kicked the cage he’d made and transmuted himself a three sided shelter, one side open so he could see his captive.

“Hey, could you do me a favor?” The man asked after a while,”Can you, err, fix my armor? This is really uncomfortable.”

“Forget it, you can’t feel anyway.” Ed snapped.

“I know Spartans look stoic, but we’re human, too, you know.”

“HUH?! What’s this crud about ‘Spartans’?! Are you some new creation from those Ouroboros guys?! Or a military project?” Ed yelled again, then said,”If you answer. I’ll let you go.”

“Well, looks like you ain’t gonna get your way, doesn’t it?” A new, low voice growled. This man was smaller, shorter, but had a white skull carved into his helmet, which sent chills down Ed’s spine. Before Ed could do anything, the new arrival had his gun aimed at him, and was ordering Ed out of his haven. The storm had calmed down a bit, but sand still bit at his face. There were three more Spartans outside, not counting the captive and Ed’s new captor, who had something to say about Ed’s handiwork on his buddy, “You do this?!”

“Yeah, pretty good, huh​? You like it? I can do the same to yours!” As Ed began to clap his hands together, a rougher, soldiers voice commanded, “Grab his arms.” The Spartan with a skull on his face grabbed both and held them far enough apart it hurt. Next to the trapped Spartan was an even smaller one, with a more feminine shape. She was in a robin’s egg blue suit, and was inspecting the trapped man’s armor.

“Fix it.” Ordered Skullface, as Ed had nicknamed him. Ed was going to protest, but Skullface’s gun was very close, so he claimed he needed his hands and fixed the big man’s armor.

With their comrade tended to, the team focused on Ed. It was awkward, they just stood there, trying to figure out what to do with the boy. Should they arrest him? He was clearly underage. What if they took him into their custody until they found out who he was.

Ed hated being stared at by bigger people, he always suspected they were judging him by his height, so he blurted, “Have you seen my little brother?! He’s seven feet tall and wears a big suit of armor.”

The big man he had trapped knelt down and said,” We don’t have time to look for your imaginary friend right now, but I promise he’ll be back later.”

“DON”T YOU TREAT ME LIKE A KID, DANG YOU!!” Ed screamed as he was carried away. The team and Ed drove several hours, during which Ed learned all their names: The first one he met was called Jorge. Skullface was Emile, and the female Kat . Their leader, who had ordered Ed’s arms restrained and bore dark blue armor was Carter.

Ed was hot, tired, and hungry by the time they reached camp. Nobody had explained to him what they were or why they kept saying,”this planet this” and “that planet that” as if there were more than one planet! Mostly, Ed’s yelling was not responded to, he wore himself out screaming for no reason.


To his horror, Ed found he had fallen asleep in the jeep before they reached camp, and now he was lying on the ground in a tent, with Al sitting over him. Al was talking to someone in the door of the tent.”Yes, okay. Thank you, Commander.”, Al looked down at Ed, gasped, and exclaimed,”Brother! Your awake! You’ll never guess who saved you…” Al went on to explain about the Spartans, an elite group of soldiers trained since childhood. As Ed got dressed, eager to get out from under all these tall people, he complained about all the trouble the Spartans had given him. What Ed did not admit was that he was worried for Al. He couldn’t look weak around those super-buff space freaks!

“From space? Bah. That’s not even possible. Next your gonna tell me they don’t know what alchemy is!” Ed exclaimed, putting on his boots. He ate a quick meal, military food, but it tasted different from the military food he usually ate. Almost like plastic. All the same, Ed devoured it. He brought no food with him, and wondered how long he could’ve lasted without food. Well, Ed thought, I guess I do owe them.

“But they don’t, Brother!” Al argued, “They’re from another planet, and have never even heard of alchemy! Isn’t the idea crazy?”

“Yeah, it’s a crazy lie. Mustang probably sent them as a test of skill for me.” Ed said.

Al sighed. There was no use in arguing with his brother, Ed was too hardheaded. The Spartans all said goodbye to the boys as they walked into the desert.

“No way! You guys are nuts! I won’t take a ride from someone I know is crazy!” Ed yelled over the distance already between them. But what he was really thinking was, ‘I’d never take anything from someone who saved my life once already.’

The brothers were off again, hoping to find the Philosopher’s Stone in a small town that grew wheat. They were in for more of a surprise than a Philosopher’s Stone would give them!