By Various Authors
Submitted: May 2007
Summary: The theme of this Drabble collection is weapons. Join these fantastic authors as they bring you small snippets from the lives of our favorite characters.
NOTE: This started out as a fairly simple challenge on the http://www.lcficmbs.com/ message boards. The idea was to write a 100 word drabble based on a set theme. Before I knew it we had a handful of people participating and it has now become a weekly challenge. These drabbles are fairly simple to write but we have had some amazing entries as you will see below. We hope you enjoy these as much as we all had writing them. — Jojo
He really should have a license for it, because it was a killer one. Unlike a speeding bullet there was no escape. There was no shelter safe enough to not be affected by it. There was no place far enough away to not be attracted towards it. Nothing could help her against it. Unlike anything else he did, he didn't use this weapon, his worst weapon, carefully. In fact he was rather reckless with it, maybe unaware of its incredible power. While she usually didn't feel threatened by it, it was hell when he melted away her anger: with his smile.
Drabble #2 and #3
"It doesn't matter," she told him. "I know you. And I don't mean you 'the celebrity' or you 'the superhero.' If you had no powers, if you were just an ordinary man leading an ordinary life, I'd love you just the same. Can't you believe that?"
She was using her most potent weapon. Not bullets, not bombs, not kryptonite, nothing that could affect his body. Words were her weapons. And she wielded them with consummate skill. There were few better.
"I wish I could, Lois. But, under the circumstances, I don't see how I can."
Words were his weapons too.
He owned Alexander's sword, Tell's crossbow. He owned weapons of every kind, from every nation. Weapons brought power just as money brought power, and what he loved above all else was power. The power to command, power to destroy.
There were few who could resist his power and only one who held more. But he'd thought he'd even had a weapon against that one. How could compassion, love, overcome the power to destroy the world?
But she told him no and walked into the arms of her bespectacled beloved. Someone else wielded that weapon against him. And he hated it.
Author: Catherine Bruce
"How are we gonna make sure ol' Blue Tights won't stop us?" An age old question, asked by countless villains. "What's his weakness? What would stop him?"
A brunette reporter would inevitably make her way into the conversation. Eventually, someone would point out that if they were forced to actually off the dame, the consequences would be far worse than they dared to imagine. They would blanch at the thought of this possible future, created by the downfall of one reporter and the heartbroken rage of an infinitely powerful being.
Nine out of ten villains preferred their world intact.
When she was sixteen, she joined the school newspaper. Originally it had been to get closer to a boy but after a few articles she had discovered a passion that was greater than a mere teenage boy could give her. For the next ten years it would be the all-consuming love of her life, until a certain brown-eyed man would walk into her life. It was through her pen that Lois found meaning and justice for people who were less fortunate and couldn't defend themselves. Some people used guns or fists but she used words as her weapon of choice.
Author note: Now, I need to explain my drabble or you will all think I've lost my mind. This idea comes from one of my stories, A New Hero. These are the words of a maniacal serial killer who liked to kill women with long hair. When Superman (who the killer referred to as 'god') interfered by saving one of his intended victims, he came after Superman and very nearly killed our hero when he shot him using kryptonite bullets.
Here is the link to the table of contents: http://www.lcficmbs.com/ubb/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=6;t=000870#000000
A plan. I have a plan. Kill her. Kill them all. Whoosh… Red. Blue. No! Ruined plans. How dare the Man of Steel — god — save her? Kill him. With kryptonite. I know that it is deadly to god — to Superman.
There *he* is. I raise the gun. I shoot him. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. He thought the bullets would bounce off. I smile. Blood. Everywhere. No more interference. Death. He will die.
People run. To god. To help god. No!! I frown. He will live. No matter. I turn. I leave. Must find *her*.
Author: Lara Moon
Not a word was the truth; not a single one yet. And he'd won, in the end, she was caught in his net.
She wouldn't believe, but she wasn't to blame — for no proof he could find, to substantiate his claim
From day one, he too, lied, his true self to protect; he had something to hide that she didn't expect.
His heart he'd poured out, his hopes now shattered; His other self was the one, to her, who mattered.
Secrets and lies had caused heartbreak and pain. They might not have a blade, but could kill, just the same.
It sat, seeming benign, in the newsroom of the Daily Planet. All functions and fabulously faux features, it was a spectacle of efficiency. Anything he could possibly need, it provided him at less-than-arm's length. He had not ordered it though; apparently, it was a gift-a possible bribe to throw them off of the story. Clark watched its digital display and straightened a few of its accessories as he waited for Lois to return. And like its clone, which sat lethally in another office, the Desk Friend watched him back.
Author: The Little Tornado
She could have been mad but she wasn't. He needed her.
Oh, he had all the powers he could have had. The super senses, the super abilities.
And now he had her. Well, he had no clue but she would be useful.
She could keep him out of trouble. Make excuses, comfort him, keep track of him, hunt down enemies …
There could be more kryptonite out there. She could only try.
She could love him. For who he really was. Perhaps it would be enough.
She could be the secret weapon he didn't know he had.
It was a bloodless battle. There were no swords or guns; it was a war of priorities.
I was certain my side would prevail. My weapons were strong and pointed — family, love, joy, home.
They had weapons, too — tradition, history, blood kinship, shared gifts. What were these against mine?
But when they brought forth their last arsenal, I was forced to concede defeat. I set aside my weapons; to continue to wield them would cause more harm to my love than to my enemy, for the invaders had one that I could not overcome.
A world of people in need.
Author: Nancy V. Sont
He was exhausted. How did she do it? Did she search for ways to be killed? How many times had he untied her? He'd rescued her from slowly mixing chemicals. From a boiler about to explode. From a tidal wave. From being lowered into a frothy brew. From an explosive bed.
He slumped into a soft cloud. Did he dare take a moment off? Would she be falling from an airplane? Off a building? Drowning in a barrel? A vat of cement or a slowly filling box?
He was weary. She was killing him.
Worse than kryptonite.
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