Review this story                                                            Stories # - L | M - Z | Authors

An Oath of Blood & Thunder
Part 3/4

Guys, this part of the Story gets a little depressing, I ain’t gonna lie to you. I guess I...I can’t really make jokes about what happens next...what happens what motivates me to fight evil with lightning in my fist and a madcap grin on my face every’s not cute, it’s not funny, it’s what’s at every heroes core...that single moment in your life where you choose where to go. Evil or Good, Normal or Abnormal, Hero...or Victim.

This Is a heroes tragedy.

I remember the ride back home in Uncle Alex’s squad car perfectly. We almost crashed twice and dragged along 3 cop cars.  I was sitting next to my Uncle Alex thinking things thru in my head...”Why the hell did I go to that rave!...if I stayed home I could of...of...”. I knew deep down I couldn’t have done anything. All I hoped was that my mom and Uncle Pat were ok. I wasn’t thinking about that Rikti freak Sobek, not about that hero Sparky, not about that weird serum...just about my mother...just about her...

We got to our apartment at 4:30 AM. And it was an raging inferno. I’ve seen the Steel Canyon fires before, but this fire had a strange aura to it. The aura was not born by a match, but of pure hatred and darkness. Fire fighters battled the flames while heroes fought off lunatic Skulls trying to attack civilians...I knew some of them. Blue Steel, Boom-Wave, Banshee Punk, and K-Force. All heroes working with my mother to take down the Skulls Superadine dealings with the Trolls and, more notably, The Family. I watched as heroes and Firemen went in to rescue folks. Mr. Raif came out of the fire with an Assualt rifle in his hands and began to fire Riot Bullets at the Skulls, helping in the takedown. I watched them fight and then I heard a familiar voice.


Oh, my Uncle Pat is homophobic. Dunno why, maybe it’s his Catholic upbringing.

I looked to my right, just in time to see my Uncle Pat fight off a fireman and run into the burning building. Uncle Alex quickly followed, breaking thru the blocked door way. It would be twenty minutes before they came back out. In my Uncle Pats arms was a weak, dead figure covered in burns. His face streaked with tears of rage, Uncle Pat screamed to the sky, while Uncle Alex took my mothers dead body and handed it over to the paramedics with a grim and saddened look. Before the Paramedics put her in an body bag, I got once last look at my mother, one last look at her fire red hair and one last look at her light green eyes. I watched them zip the bag as a shadowy, flying Skull flew out of apartment 26-D on the 4th floor.

2 weeks later

After my apartment burned down, my Uncle Pat bought us a loft not to far away from the remains of our apartment. 2 miles away in fact. I spent a week in therapy get over my mothers death, but it didn’t help at all. “Never give an Irishman a reason to gain revenge”. My favorite line from “Sin City”. I wanted whoever did this to feel the pain I hurt like I did. I wanted good old fashioned vengeance and I knew how I would. You’ll see later on kids.

Her funeral was a big one, with family members and friends payed their final respects to my mother. All my family was there, even a few blokes who were in the IRA. Several heroes who worked with my mother in the past were there as well, wearing a black arm band and a grim face. But, there were 3 people there I want to bring your attention to. First, was a well built Italian man by the name of Giovanni Fortissimo. During the entire funeral, my Uncle Pat watched him with a mix of fear and anger. Next is Byron Harkenson, my grandfather on my fathers side. We won’t get too much into him now. But I want to tell you about my grandmother, Delia McClog. In the 60's, she was a super hero by the name of Clover Leaf, a martial artist hero who gave up her career to raise her children from an accidental pregnancy. After the funeral, She came to me and held me for 10 minutes with out saying a word. Then letting go, she spoke to me:

Grandma: Kenny, I hope you realize we’re all here for you. I know how hard it is losing a parent, I had to grow up an orphan in Dublin. Just know we will help you thru this. All of us.

At this point, all of my mothers heroes surrounded me and put their hands on my shoulder. It was oddly comfortable, but at the same time it was un-nerving. Suddenly, I felt a sickening pain of anger. I threw them off and glared at them all.


I ran home to the loft and locked myself in my room. I knew it wasn’t their fault. I knew, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be mad at something or someone. “They’re heroes aren’t they?” I thought, “They should have been able to save her...”. Later on, I went to this seedy bar with my Uncle Pat in downtown BricksTown, a place called “River Dance”, an Irish joint. Uncle Pat had connections there and was able to get me a few good drinks. We spent a good hour or 4 drinking and singing our misery away (Just to let ya know, I can really hold my liquor, it runs in the family), But it was still there, all the pain and hate. Sitting at a table, I looked at my Uncle Pat with lazy eyes.

Kenny: you wanna se something cool?

Uncle Pat: what’s that, Boyo?

Kenny: just...just watch. I found out I could do this when we moved into the loft.

I placed my hand over the table and electric bolts shot from it, burning streaks into the table cloth. I had discovered that I could fire bolts from my hand a week after the fire and had been waiting for the perfect tm to tell him. And, after 4 tequilas, this seemed perfect. I had discovered that I had more control over this lightning than a normal mutant, but more power as well. I looked at his amazed face with a grin and told him everything. Sobek, Sparky, and the Serum, all of it. I then looked at him with a grin as thunder boomed outside and lightning lit up my face from the window.

Kenny: you know what this means? We can avenge her!!! we can fight back!

I stood up and grabbed my amazed Uncle’s hand and ran up to the roof with him. It was raining and thundering on the roof, lightning turned orange by the spot lights of the Zig prison.  I laughed at the lightning, now knowing I was its master. It was then and there, as forty heroes that served my mother flied towards me that I made an oath to destroy the Skulls and all responsible for my mothers death. It was then and there, with my odd new family, that I made my Oath of Blood and Thunder.

“God doth loveth his little jokeths”


    Review this story