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YOPOCON CONTINUES!

Anyway the two winners of the writing contest are going head to head, who will win???

Sif's Entry

WARNING: PROFANITY FOLLOWS
The following content contains profanity that may not be suitable for readers of all ages. Please proceed with caution.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #1

Some... maybe a lot would say that they regret what they did. They would beg for forgiveness, they would spend the rest of their lives traumatized, wishing they could just erase that part of their lives. Everything that i had done, what i did... i don't regret it. I could be a monster, a troubled man, but i know in my heart that i do not regret what happened on the night of May 17, 2015. I must warn you that if you do find this journal... my message to you, is:

I am a monster.

When i did it, when i killed my mother... i had a different feeling. My initial reaction was different. Not crazy, as some might suspect. I had told myself that this was wrong, that it wasn't right... but at the end of the day, i had realized that my initial reaction was a lie.

I had realized at that moment that nobody would oppose society's rules, that everyone would always come out with "This is wrong". I'm the only one who came out the other end and not regret any decision i've made. This is right. When i killed my mother, i felt this was right. And i tried to tell myself otherwise for an hour or so.

It was finally then and there, when my mom's friend, Jim Rozum, found me crying. I knew one thing in that moment: I'm going to be imprisoned for life. I'm going to be marked as a criminal for the rest of my life. I was wrong. Jim was shocked, and he had asked me the question that would save my life, "Who did this?!".

Right then and there, i realized that i could still be saved. I told him to call the cops, as i hid the knife and journal. I made up some story about how a tall man broke in and killed her right in front of me. They bought it. And because of this, i was saved. Jim Rozum, in honor of my mother, decided to adopt.

I spent the summer reminiscing, thinking about what i had done. Everyone had thought i had been traumatized for life, i took a couple of trips to Jim's therapist friend, Dr. Borges. She didn't do much, i had to make up fake stories about how i felt, and it was there when i realized how fake everything is.

After my slow realization, and just when i thought everyone was fake... when i realized my true feelings... i stopped reminiscing. I had to live with my actions for the rest of my life, and i don't have to spend everyday of that life wishing i could take it all back. I can just move on.

That next morning, i woke up happy again. I went downstairs, i brushed my teeth, i had a proper breakfast, and i told Jim "Good morning!". He was pleasantly surprised by my reaction, and he responded with "Good morning to you too!". We went out for a drive, he took me to go see a movie.

It was only when we got back when he finally asked "What's up?". He finally questioned me. I told him that i'm not prepared to live every day of my life in regret, to just keep moving forward. And he agreed, no surprise there. Although, when i had finally checked my internet again. And i did get addicted all night, and i had made my realization: In the "real world", no one is honest. We are bound to society's rules. But on the internet, we... we can embrace our darkness, and speak anonymously. I wasn't alone, and that made me happy.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #2

And that marked the end of my summer. And i would lie if i didn't say i enjoyed it. I appreciated it for helping me realize the world's faults. But, as most things, there has to come the bad. School was about to start, and i knew that it would be bad like last year. I finally turned 16 over the summer, and i was horrified at what's to come.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I remember the alarm that woke me up. Jim had drove me to school, and he said "Good luck". I walked out of the car and into the front doors, and all i could hear was noise. The majority of the students were in a group, just talking. Imagine my genuine surprise that, unlike last year, i wasn't alone.

There were more students just like me, who felt left out. And the major difference was, there was this guy. He wore glasses, he was around my height, and he had brown hair. He would just walk up to the others and start group conversations. I was surprised to see someone who actually cared, who wouldn't make fun of you.

The first three days weren't the best. I never made a lot of friends, and i avoided that person. But sadly, there came school. A lot of work, and they started off with Algebra right off the bat. I did pass, mainly because i didn't have much distractions and never had time for anything else.

The fourth day however, when i walked in, there was a slight delay. The teacher had been late, and once again, nobody would shut up. That person was there, but he was mostly studying. I stared at him the whole time, until he finally looked back. He started to put his books away and approached me.

He saw me and just said "Hey.". I said "Hi." back, and he had told me that his name is Wells Montgomery. We sparked a quick conversation about how we hated our teacher, Mrs. Validus. I finally asked him what was up and what he was doing, and he said that he just wanted to help others. No one had helped him when he was younger.

Me and Wells got along very quickly, and his ideals were great. He was the first person i ever met who wasn't an actual bitch. When Mrs. Validus finally came, we went into class and i took my usual seat. Wells however, he decided to sit next to me.

And for once, i was actually happy at school. I finally had a friend, even through all the hard work and bullying of the past year. And when things couldn't get any better, Mrs. Validus decided not to give us any homework. When school had finally ended, i felt happier than usual. I had walked home happier than usual. It was a good day.

The next day, as i entered school again, someone had bumped into me. He had turned me and told me to "watch it". I apologized, but he continued to push me around. He had called me a "push over". I wanted to hit back, i really did, but i was afraid Wells might think different of me.

Luckily, however, Wells did come around and told him to back off. And i remember this being so... suspicious. He had whispered in his ear, and the look on Wells' face... he just looked blankly. He eventually walked away, as i approached Wells and asked him what was going on.

His name was Shawn, and he had been bullying Wells for a long time. Wells did apparently manage to get him off his back. He told me to forget about it, and he continued to ask me about my day. And we had a small chat before class began about a show which we personally enjoy, titled "MURDER".

When school had ended that day, i was about to leave when Wells tapped my shoulder. He had said that he wanted to show me around. I, of course, agreed. I had nothing better to do. He took me over to an apartment, in which his brother owned. He was on vacation supposedly.

We had sat down on the couch and discussed a few things. He asked me what i wanted to be when i grow up. I never quite knew what i wanted. He was quick to answer when i asked him, as he said he wanted to be a film writer. He said that the show we watched inspired him. And you know what, film writing also intrigues me.

He had shown me a few scripts that he had written, and they were quite good. They focused a lot on old mythology, which i thought was quite neat. I told him that they were very good, and he said that i was the only person he had shown. I responded with that maybe he should post it on the internet, get some attention. And he said it was a good idea.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #3

The very next day, i had sent him a link on the internet to a website where you could share your own stories. And when the school day ended, i put aside my homework in which i don't usually do, and i went on the website. I saw that Wells posted his story, and immediately got viewers and fans. And i decided that maybe i should do the same.

The first thing that came to mind was perhaps posting an altered version of my first journal, and claim it was exaggerated. I went to my closet, and i got my journal, and i wrote most of it down. And within the hour, it got a lot of views and fans, just like Wells. He also read it and was shocked, and he loved it.

We had continued posting other works of fiction the following weeks, and we both gained a few fans. Hell, Wells was promoted to administrator in the first few months because of his hard work. And i was inspired by him to make good works, just like he does.

Sadly, however, shortly after he was promoted to administrator, he had to go on vacation. Wells never told me why, but he said it was an urgent family matter. And i was essentially alone without him. I had no other friends besides online, and i was really hoping on his advice.

The following weeks somehow got boring. And school work somehow got harder, and i realized that i was failing because i put more time to fiction than my homework. I had to work extra hard, and the sad thing was, the website was also becoming inactive without Wells.

However, something interesting had come up. My school had a very interesting class about religion. It was part of a new program, i didn't know what it was, really. The thing that surprised me was that Jim and my mother were catholics, and i never even knew.

As for me, for years, i had always told myself i was a muslim. I grew up with an all muslim family, being from Zarkovia, and i was told to have strict morals. Even when i said i was muslim, i never really prayed or followed any of their rules. Hell, i had even murdered my mother.

Jim had forced me upon this program, because he thought it would be good for me. I was sitting in a classroom with about 50 or more other students, younger and older than me. I had been sitting in the back of the room, hidden from the public, but one of the teachers called my name.

She has asked me about my religion, and i had never even thought about it in a long time. I stood there for a few seconds in silence, and told her i was a muslim. Deep down, however, i knew that was wrong. She told me to specify moreover, but i hesitated. She gave me a weird glare before asking someone else.

I had went on the website that night, and i talked to one of my friends. I told him about what happened that day, even if it was personal, and i told him that maybe i was an agnostic. I was too afraid to admit it because everyone around me was religious, whether it be my school, my family, or my friends.

I felt like i had to tell somebody, and when Jim came home that night, i sat down and had a talk with him. I begged him not to get angry, and he told me he wouldn't. We began with small talk, but i decided to cut right to the chase and told him that i was neither muslim nor catholic. I was an agnostic.

The look on his face... i'll never forget it. He seemed disappointed. As his voice cracked, the only thing he could muster up is "Okay... that's okay.". He got up, and told me to go to bed. The very next morning, he woke me up and told me to get ready for school. He never did this, and the worst part... his tone was very off.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #4

For the rest of the week, Jim seemed very unusual. He seemed angry and disappointed that i never had any religion. While Jim was driving me to school, i asked him why he was so religious. He was originally hesitant... in fact, he seemed almost scared. But he was quick to say that his father said religion is the main thing that matters.

The only vibe i could get out of that is that maybe his dad beat religion into him. That's when i realized that i was lucky in that i could choose my own path. Even when my family was all religious, it was never forced on me. I was free to choose my own path. But Jim... he got the short end of the stick. Moral of the story is, decide your own path.

The very same day, however, i went back to school and saw Wells. He finally returned from his vacation, and said he needed to talk to me. I was incredibly curious, and it felt like school lasted forever. I had noticed that Shawn had been picking on other students. He had turned to me and said "What the fuck are you looking at?".

I realized how much i hated Shawn, and i never knew what his deal was. Then, when my classes started, Wells sat away from me. The clases felt longer than usual, as i anticipated what Wells wanted to talk to me about. Mrs. Validus decided to give all of us extra algebra homework, but i never really cared.

As the classes finished, everyone had rushed out of the classroom. Wells was nowhere in sight, not even in the line. When everyone had finally got outside, Wells had tapped my shoulder and told me to follow him. He wouldn't tell me anything on the way, but we had ended up back in his brother's apartment.

Wells told me i was the only one he could trust. He told me that he's been going through a lot, and over the summer, he made some realizations. He finally got the courage to admit it himself the past weekend, as i asked him what was up. He said he didn't feel normal, that he had feelings for someone long gone.

I continued to ask him who this person was, and he said that he was taken... by Shawn. I responded with "he?". And he said that i heard correct. When i found out that Wells was gay... nothing really changed. At least, that was what i said to myself.

I asked him about Shawn, and what his deal was. Shawn's dad employs Wells' dad, and apparently he was a total asshole. And what's worse, Shawn has been dating Wells' crush. And his crush had soon moved away, as he was too late. Shawn knows his secret, though.

I reassured Wells, and i told him that everything will be okay. That he can trust me. But even though i reassured him a little bit supposedly, he said that he truly despises Shawn. He has never hated anyone, but it's been effecting him in his writing and his life. Wells truly did blame Shawn for everything.

It was right then and there when i realized what i had to do. I had to serve justice. I tried to avoid killing, but i truly wanted to make Wells happy. I knew that without society's rules, he would want this. I asked him what Shawn's last name was, in which he responded with "Nesmith". He asked why, but i avoided the question.

I told Wells to get some rest, and that we can continue to talk tomorrow. As soon as i left, i went straight home, and found Shawn on the internet. I found out that he was going to his friend's party through his social media account. I left my laptop open as i went into Jim's room, and grabbed his father's military grade bowie knife.

I grabbed my hooded jacket, and walked away from the room. And all i could hear is ringing in my ears. My heart pumping harder than ever, knowing what i had to do. As i got into the local bus, all i could do was sweat, knowing how guilty i was. But all i knew is that i had to do this.

As the bus dropped me off, i took a long walk to discover a row of mansion-like homes. The obvious one was one with a lot of drinking teens and music. I had walked inside the home, as the front door was open. There were many people, but i quickly spotted Shawn drinking by the pool.

Even though i could've had Shawn arrested for this, i knew that wouldn't be enough for Wells. I called Shawn inside the home, as he was struggling to walk. He was clearly drunk, which made for the perfect opportunity. I called his name, and he followed the trail through the bathroom.

His final words, "Joe? You're not supposed to be here!". I responded with "Neither are you.". He was struggling to stand, as i lunged at him and stabbed him in the neck. I could hear him choking, as i stabbed him in the chest over and over. He was struggling to talk, as he was gushing blood.

I told him, in his final breath, that this was "Justice.". I had quickly ran away, when blood was all over my hoodie. I took off my hoodie and threw it in a dumpster nearby as i ran away. I took a cab back home, and i rushed over to my sink and washed the blood away from my hands and knife.

I slowly opened the door to Jim's room, to find that he was sleeping. I had completely forgot he was coming home, and i knew that i was going to be interrogated in the morning. But i quickly put the bowie knife back in his closet, and went back to my room. Strangely enough, my laptop was off and put on my desk.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #5

The very next morning, my phone had blew up. Wells had sent me a lot of messages. He had told me about Shawn's death, as i jumped out of bed. I had rushed to the bathroom, cleaning my face and brushing my teeth, and was quick to get dressed. Although, i skipped breakfast entirely... huge mistake.

As i walked out, i said goodbye to Jim, and strangely enough, he never responded. I had taken the bus over to his brother's apartment, and i found Wells... silently crying. I asked him what was wrong, and he sat there... silently. I think that maybe he did think this was justice... but never wanted to admit it.

I sat next to Wells, and told him everything's going to be alright. That maybe Shawn got what he deserved. And he said "Maybe...". And i remember this very fondly... there was a long pause, but he told me that Shawn's death didn't make him feel better.

But i remember telling him that it's going to be alright. And... he gave me the biggest hug he could. And at that moment, i realized... i loved Wells. No, not as a friend... i loved him.

I had to kill again, for him. And i knew that i couldn't find any other person like Wells, and i knew i had to tell him sometime. Wells was truly the only person who could brighten up my day, that help me realize my passion for writing... it was him that when i wake up in the morning, i feel happy. He overshadows any guilt i had.

I owed him something. And that something was the death of Shawn. I decided to cheer him up for the rest of the day, to play video games to take his mind off it. To help him write his new story he had in mind. Hell, i even cooked for him, and i don't usually cook.

I spent all day at his brother's apartment, and by the end of it all, he said "Thank you". But, never had to thank me. The following day, i had decided to spend my Sunday writing stories. I remember this moment too well, when my friend, just as he had finished writing his new story "Zenith", came on.

I felt like i had to tell someone my feelings for Wells, and i knew i could trust my friend. I told him i wanted to speak to him in private, and when he asked me what's going on... i told him how i felt. When i told him, he was quick to stop me.

He told me that everything was perfectly fine, that he probably feels the same way. He told me that we were perfect, and there was nothing wrong with how i felt. He told me a story of a woman he liked, but he hid that for over three years. When she finally moved, he regret not telling her anything. How i should say something before it's too late.

And that night, i started text messaging Wells. I couldn't go a day without thinking about him, and all night we talked about fanfiction he's making, titled "Mystery Island". We spent hours talking about it, and i felt satisfied that i got to speak to him again. As i told him "Good night!", i went to sleep happy for once.

Joe's Journal Vol. 2: Page #6

I remember this morning. The last time i'll ever have a chance of a normal life. I had woken up at 11:00 AM, with no alarm. This was unusual because my alarm always goes off. And when i found out what the time was, i knew there was no point in going to school.

I had walked downstairs, trying to get breakfast. I turned to my right, and saw Jim on the couch, holding a picture of me, my mother, and Jim together. I remember asking him about what was going on, and he told me "I know what you did, Joe.".

I remember saying "What?! What are you talking about, Jim?". I was afraid for my life. He asked me why i killed my mother, why i killed Shawn. When he finally said this, something in me snapped. My fear went away, and was replaced with anger. I responded with "How did you know?".

He said he had felt heartbroken when i told him i wasn't religious. He told me that i wouldn't have thought of this on my own, that i could've gotten this from the internet. And the night i killed Shawn, he had came come to see that i wasn't there. He had went to my room, and saw my laptop opened.

He had checked the website i go to, he had found my first story. He had checked my history, and found Shawn. The next morning, when he had heard that Shawn was dead, he put the pieces together. I had killed my mother and Shawn.

But somehow, when he told me he knew. Nothing phased me. I didn't regret anything. All he did was ask me why. All i was thinking about is how i'm gonna kill him. I had ran behind, to the kitchen, and grabbed a knife. Jim came after me, but i had stabbed him in the arm. All i can remember from that moment was how much he was in pain.

Not from me stabbing him, but his heart break. When i realized this, i snapped back into reality. I truly did feel ashamed of what i've done. This wasn't justice. I ran away, away from everyone. I couldn't even build up the courage to call Wells.

I ran to the only place i could, the apartment. I ran into the bedroom, and to my surprise, i had found a journal on the floor. I remember how convenient this was, but i didn't care. I had spent a week of my time hiding, just writing everything you see.

I could be a monster for what i've done. I thought everything was justified. My mother was a monster, Shawn was... he was something else. I'm not even sure if he deserved death anymore. I did it for Wells, and i was happy. Everything has come to me, and i'm just not sure anymore...

...And then one day, i hear the doors open up. I heard the keys dangling, and the door opening. I was scared for my life, but the voice i heard... it was Wells. But i never wanted him to see me like this. Guilty. Ashamed. A monster.

Wells called for me, until he finally found me. I was looking down at my journal, and Wells... he had a look of confusion on his face. Like he never wanted to believe i was a monster. He asked me if everything he had heard was true, but i could never build up the courage to reply.

He stared at me, he truly felt a heart break, just like Jim. But, I wasn't gonna go down like this. I already went down once, but i wasn't gonna let Wells down. I told him to not talk, to only listen, and he agreed. I threw my journal away, and began talking.

I told him that i was sorry, and that yes, i had done terrible things. Everything i've done after my mother, i had done for Wells. I told him that he was more than a friend to me, someone special. I paused for a moment, before i just went ahead with it and told him that i liked him. That i loved him.

Wells was the only person who could ever make me happy. After what had happened to me in my youth, hell, my entire life, Wells was the brightest light. I never wanted to lose him, only to make him happy. Even if i had killed, even if i'm wanted by the Police, even if Jim is looking for me... i will never stop loving Wells.

Wells had stared at me, and somehow, i could hear his heart pumping. He much in shock he was. His mouth was open, just in complete shock. Until he finally stood up propery,

And...

He said that his true feelings towards me were--

[PAGE IS CUT OFF]


Wow. I'm sure happy i got all my feelings out of the way, and i got this out of my system. And no, for the last goddamn time, i'm not a killer. I'm not crazy either. Yes, i've questioned my sexuality sometimes (I'm bi), and i've questioned my religion, but i've managed to translate them into a FICTIONAL story. Anyways, thank you all for reading, it's been a blast.

Jack's Entry

WARNING: PROFANITY FOLLOWS
The following content contains profanity that may not be suitable for readers of all ages. Please proceed with caution.

The bar was dimly lit and stunk of cigarette odor. The caramel colored walls were worn with stratches and dents. Pool tables caked in dust. Booths empty. A few men sitting on stools, sipping their drinks, occasionally glacing at the TV. It cuts to Harangue Nation, beginning yet another rant about Ben 10.

[Man]: When will he ever shut up? Let the kid do what he wants. Everybody already knows he isn't a hero.

The man who spoke was an older man, in his late fifties or so as wrinkles spread across his face. He wore glasses, as his vision began fading. The long, navy blue trench coat covered most of his body but didn't cover his press cover, which read: Matt Blake, investigative reporter for the Bellwood Times.

[Matt]: These kids playing superhero will end up getting killed. Once one of them die, the rest will crawl back into the shadows.

A man sitting next to him, who was slightly overweight and had a combover, gruffly replied before downing his drink.

[Man]: Plumber's should take 'em out anyway. These amateurs don't have jurisdiction, they're vigilantes.

They are silent for a few moments, drinking. The bartender puts down the glass he was wiping and brings out more drinks for the two.

[Matt]: Listen, Carl, where are we at with your mission?

[Carl]: I've found out the IRA, the Pisciss Volanns, and the Violet Offenders all answer to one man now. No one has seen him yet. I haven't heard of an endgame yet.

[Matt]: Be careful, they might be getting suspiscious of you leaving so often.

Carl nods, swallows the rest of his drink, slaps a few dollars on the bar and then gets up to leave. Matt sits there, thinking about the new evidence he just heard, pondering for a while.


Matt's office was cluttered but he considered it organized. The smooth walls were pastel blue and many photographs and certificates were hanging. Matt's desk was covered in papers, all stacked into yellow files while he had his computer to the left and the keyboard in front of him. A small lamp lay hunched over, waiting to be flicked on. There was a cup filled with countless pens, pencils, and other writing utencils. On either side of the desk were chairs. Behind his desk was three file cabinets stacked next to each other which formed a small table almost. More documents were stacked onto there and a much larger lamp, standing on the ground, peeked over it. Matt sits in his chair, wearing a white plaid shirt with black stripes and a vivid red tie. He is starring at an old newspaper clipping about the violent gang, the IRA, whose ruthless and dissolute methods often led them to clash with the Pisciss Volanns, who just wanted the mission done. The infant gang in town was the Violet Offenders, who are mysteriously crashing into stores and robbing them and sporadically attempting home invasions. Matt's boss, was a middle aged ma who was bald and had a mocha colored beard, with a few gray hairs becoming visible over time. This man, Ellison Hoffman, was often referred to as an asshole.

[Ellison]: Matt, I need to know the general idea for your new piece.

[Matt]: There is a new leader who may be tying together the three gangs in Bellwood. This could exploit their endgame and stop them.

[Ellison]: Stop. Those papers won't sell, Matt. C'mon! Stop with this-this fascination with crime-related activities! If you wanted this, you should've joined the goddman Plumbers!

Ellion sighs, rubbing the back of his bald head, cogitating.

[Elliot]: Jimmy running a piece on the civil servants in our community. That's in your general interest, why not pair up with him for this one?

[Matt[: When I first started working here, twenty, maybe even thirty years ago, the people cared. Today, our job is a joke. We talk about new stop lights or a record breaking selfie. My prime was when the people were concerned when kids turned up dead, or gang members attack the well-being of our city.

[Elliot]: I don't care. You are not running the paper. I'll have Jimmy run some ideas off you later.

Elliot turns and closes the door behind him. Matt vigorously pounds his clenched fist onto the desk. Squeezing so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Attempting to distract his mind, to calm himself down , Matt checks his e-mail. There is a strange message from someone named "Liz Bennet". He opens its and it reads:

Mr. Blake,

I read your recent story on the Kraaho cartel in Undertown, and I feel like you might interested in what I know. I can't say in the case they monitor my e-mails, but meet me behind Max's Plumbing at sundown tonight. This information could take down the IRA once and for all.

Sincerely,

Liz Bennet

Matt, dressed once again in his moccasin colored coat, briskly trudges his way behind Max's Plumbing, as the down pour soaks him. The girl there had long brown hair, an angry look to her face, thin and beautiful. She had potruding cheek bones with thin eyebrows.

[Liz]: Mr. Blake?

They stand under a staircase to avoid completely getting soaked.

[Liz]: I need your help to stop the IRA. I have something that could put down.

[Matt]: I don't want to get involved in this type of work Mrs. Bennet.

[Liz]: They have my son.

Matt turns to face her, hesitant.

[Matt]: I have a guy, he's undercover in the IRA. He feeds me intel. You need to stay low, in case the IRA targets you. I'll contact you if I have any information on your son, Mrs. Bennet. Do not do anything stupid. This case would only end one way, us both dead. I'm sorry.

She nods and Matt turns away. Liz wipes a tear away.

That night, Liz is at her apartment. She twists her key into the slot and as she opens the door, blood puddles everywhere as a man hangs from the body with slashes all over his body. She screams, falling to the ground. Covering her mouth in horror, Liz scrambles back and grabs her phone. She dials in 9-1-1. Sitting in agony, she hears the line click.

[Operator]: 911, what's your emergency?

[Liz]: I-I just got home from work...and I found a dead body in my apartment.

Liz begins crying softly.

[Operator]: Ma'am stay there, the police will be there to the station shortly.

[Liz]: Wait, no I didn't-

The line goes dead. They think she did it. Her immediate reaction is too flee. Sprinting into the bathroom, she grabs the scissors and begins chopping at her hair. When finished with that, she bleaches it. Desperate, she slices her face with the scissors which will leave a nasty cut. Placing on sun glasses and a baseball cap, she sprints out of her apartment.


Matt looks at the empty document. He ponders, trying to think of an opening which would bring down all crime in Bellwood. How do you start the biggest article in your career? There's a knock on the door. He opens it.

[Matt]: Who are you?

[Liz]: It's me....Liz!

[Matt]: What happened?

He notices the cut.

[Matt]: Are you okay?

She nods.

[Liz]: The IRA, they know, they-they know and they are coming after me! They placed a body in my apartment, framed me, I had to run away I had to get out and I-I-I...

She lets out a moan and tears stream down her face.

[Matt]: I'll do it.

[Liz]: What-what are you talking about?

[Matt]: I'll help you take down the IRA.

Liz lets out a sigh of relief.

[Liz]: Thank you so much.

[Matt]: I have a man in the ranks of the IRA. Let's not discuss it here. Police men often come patrol through here. Coffee?

She nods and they both get up to leave.

The coffee shop was small with multiple circular black tables and oak wood chairs. Matt sips his frothy coffee while Liz just stares at her's.

[Matt]: Where did you say they were shipping the drugs?

[Liz]: They produced them at Nukem Wins, out on 24th Street. But I heard one of them mentioning to transport them to Sci100 Studios, and spred them out to whatever junkies want to make a quick buck.

The ground rumbles as people begin screaming, sprinting to the window where a large alien was attacking buildings. Out of nowhere, Rook Blonko and Gwen Tennyson are fighting the monster. As the monster lethargicly swats his hand, he knocks Gwen down as Rook dives, catching her. Gwen throws a few orbs at the monster, causing it to roar irately. Matt and Liz remain focused on their conversation as Matt scribbles down notes on a writing pad.

[Matt]: How did you discover this?

[Liz]: I was on a run from my boss to make a deal for my client at Nukem Wins, Sif Hunderson, but the case got dropped and as I was leaving, I heard men screaming. Peeking, I saw it and I saw them burn a man alive for ratting them out.

Matt places down his pen, unable to write the monstrous act he just heard.

[Matt]: I've done a story like this before. Three of my friends went undercover and were ratted out by one of them who was a cowardly asshole. They were all murdered and their heads were sent to me on a pike. This type of work, it's very dangerous Mrs. Bennet. Avoid all publicity, all cops. Do not visit me at my home or my place of work. Here.

He hands her a disposable cell phone.

[Matt]: If you need to contact me, use this. We don't want any feds getting on our back.

[Liz]: Uhhhh...feds?

[Matt]: Federal agents.Sorry, thought you knew.

[Liz]: I was thrown into this lifestyle a few days ago. I don't like it.

[Matt]: No one does.

He lets out a deep exhale as he gets up to leave.


It is late at night. The obsidian colored sky glimmers overhead with the illuminating light from the moon glistening down below. Matt sits in his office, starring a bulletin board filled with newspaper clippers, names, photographs all tying together through strings. The IRA, Violet Offenders, and Pisciss Volanns are tied together through one factor: Ben Tennyson. Matt realized this in the coffee shop today. When returning to his office, Matt dug through some old records and discovered that during the turf war between the Violet Offenders and the Pisciss Volanns, Ben took out both of their leaders. Then, the IRA began dealing drugs with them. Matt realizes their target is Ben. Going to his computer, Matt goes to the Plumber records, seeing which gang members Ben took out who are still alive today. After narrowing the searches down, Matt found three results: Psyphon, whose current status is confirmed incarerated, Scott Cartmen, who currently posesses an Unknown status and the ex-convict Morene Lewis, who was confirmed dead after the Myelia Cartel murdered him in his sleep. Matt did it. It was Scott. It had to be.

Suddenly, explosions outside rock his building as bricks crumble on the side. Matt dashes outside to see what the commotion was. Pisciss Volanns, armed with automatics, began shooting down civillains. Cop cars show up but RPGs shoot them down. Plumber armored vehicles drive up as a shoot out begins. Humunguosaur comes crashing down, wiping them out. Letting out a colossal roar, Humungosaur smashes one of them into the ground. Flesh explodes everywhere. Plumber general Carl Whiteman and his deputy, Bernard Woods are standing back where Matt is.

[Matt]: Officer Whiteman, any words for this attack?

[Carl Whiteman]: Fuck off.

As bullets suddenly whiz by, Matt's heart jumps into his throat as fear overhwelms him and he lunges into the Plumber vehicle. He shoots the door close and huddle down, covering his ears as the ringing phases him. After a few minutes, the bullets stop and Matt got up. He sees Pisciss Volanns being arrested. Scrambling, he notices Ben limping off into an alley. Matt sprints after him. A matured, twenty year old Ben turns to him, with a little goatee and chiseled jawline with defined, bulging muscles connecting to his broad shoulders.

[Ben]: Sorry, I don't talk to the press.

[Matt]: Please Mr. Tennyson, I have information that could stop all three gangs in Bellwood.

[Ben]: How do you know this? You're just some sort of old ass reporter.

[Matt]: This old ass reporter has been working on gang crimes for nearly thirty years.

[Ben]: I have to go, but stay in touch.

He hands Matt a Plumber's Badge. Ben stretches his arm where a nasty bruise began forming. Slapping down his Omnitrix, Ben morphs into XLR8 then zooms off. Matt feels the breeze as XLR8 whizzes by. Returning to the crime scene, Matt snaps a few photos on his phone then pulls a pad out of his pocket, stopping one of the Pisciss Volanns who were being led off.

[Matt]: I already know that you are in touch with the IRA and the Violet Offenders. I know you ship drugs from Nukem Wins to Sci100 Studios. Who is running all of this? Is it a man name Scott? Where is his base? Tell me!

The Plumber pulls out a pistol and glocks the Pisciss Volann then holds it to his temple.

[Plumber]: Answer him or I'll blow your goddamn brains out.

[Pisciss Volann]: I don't know who is in charge. I swear to god. I just know that we launder our money through a man. All I have is a name. Nesmith.

[Plumber]: Oh shit, does he mean Carl Nesmith?

[Matt]: Thanks.

Matt turns and walks away, returning to his office. Doing some more research, he discovers Carl Nesmith has ties to a woman named Veronica Cartmen, Scott's mother.

The next morning, Matt immediately contacts Ben via the Plumber's Badge. Together, they meet up at the address Matt discovered online for Veronica Cartmen. Ben shaved his goatee and the bags under his eyes went away. He knocks on the door and Matt awkwardly stands next to him, waiting.

An elderly, overweight lady with grey curls and big eyes opens the door. She smiles at them.

[Veronica]: How can I help you?

[Matt]: Your son, er, might be in some trouble. We just want to know where he might be.

A frown creases her face.

[Veronica]: Scott...he had a rough childhood. When he was eleven, his was angry that my husband Craig and I were getting divorced. He ran away and we thought he had died for almost three years. Then he came back to me. Scott was never the same. Always yelling, cursing, resorting to violence. It breaks my heart.

She begins tearing up.

[Ben]: I'm sorry for your son, but I need to know where he is currently.

[Veronica]: I-I don't know-

[Ben]: YOU'RE SON HAS KILLED HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT PEOPLE! YOU ARE HELPING HIM BY NOT TELLING US WHERE HE IS!

Ben is up in her face, spit flying off his tongue into her face as her tone grows angry. She breaks down crying. Matt pulls Ben shoulder away from Veronica and Matt shoves him against the wall.

[Matt]: What the hell are you doing? This woman is innocent, you're hurting her!

[Ben]:All these years, you should know by now. Justice isn't as clean as it seems. Locking men up, only for them to break out and kill more. Sometimes, you have to be willing to go over the edge to take down these fuckers.

Matt stands, silent, accepting defeat as Ben exhales deeply and threatens Veronica. She gives them the address, crying as Ben looks down at her in pity. Scrunching his nose, he turns and leaves.

[Ben]: Let's go.

Matt leaps onto Ben's back, who is now Fasttrack.

[Fasttrack]: Hold your breath.

Matt inhales deeply then closes his eye and feels nausea washing over him.When he opens his eyes, they are at a large house, seeemingly abadoned. They enter and hear screaming. Girls, tied up, were screaming as aliens and human, holding guns, patrol. Ben as Fasttrack, pile all of them up in front of the house then turns into Heatblast, burning them down. Matt cries out as he watches the bodies burn and the agonizing screeches. Heatblast walks over to the girls who scream in fear and cuts the chains, freeing them. Matt smells the odor of decay and pukes. The girls all attempt to flee but Ben stops on, grabbing her vigorously on the wrist and pulling her back.

[Ben]: Who did this?

She begins crying, as she quivers, terrified. The frustration in Ben grows and he slaps her across the face. Matt clocks Ben across the face. Ben looks at what he did and zooms off as Astrodactyl. Matt stands there, horrified, consfused, angry.


The church was filled with murals and stain glass windows. Jesus Christ lay crucified on the cross. The church was empty as the sun curves over the horizon. Matt is there, his head down as he is praying.

What makes a hero? Is Ben a hero? His concept of justice is broken. But he helps people. Does power make you a hero? Is it okay to kill? The sharp line between right and wrong, can it blur sometimes? Strength, power. This means nothing. It is what they do is what makes them a hero.

He gets up, adjusts his coat and leaves. Outside, he calls Liz.

[Liz]: Did you find something out?

[Matt]: Well, Bellwood's most famous hero is a corrupt vigilante.

[Liz]: About the case, Matt.

[Matt]: The IRA are led by a man named Scott Cartmen. I intervened when some IRA members were setting up a slave auction. His mother disowns him.

[Liz]: Now what?

[Matt]: Meet me at my house. I have some more information written down there.

Six o'clock. Seven o'clock. Eight o'clock.

That's how long Matt wakes outside his house for Liz until she finally pulls up.

[Liz]: Sorry, something came up.

[Matt]: Are you okay?

[Liz]: My son was found dead in the Bellwood Harbor.

[Matt]: I'm so sorry.

He brings her into a warm, tender hug. She wipes a tear away.

[Liz]: Yeah, let's just go in.

Matt twists the door open and they enter the living room. A man was in there. Scars slashes down his face with an irate expression.

[Scott]: The IRA has had enough of your bickering.

He pulls out a pistol and fires, the bullet ripping through Liz's stomach. Blood surges up, staining her shirt. Matt screams and rushes over to her. He presses on his Plumber Badge, which sents a distress signal to Ben.

[Scott]: Honestly, I control three different factions of crime in Bellwood. What made you think you had a chance? A reporter and a wanted criminal. You look at me as a villain, but there is no good or evil. Only power. People crave it. This drives them to do certain things.

[Matt]: You're wrong. People who serve others are heroes. Even if they make mistakes, even if they do things they shouldn't, the good overrules the bad. There are people who are willing to take bullets for others who they've never even met.

[Scott]: Where's you hero now?

Scott shoots Matt three times as Matt gasps. Blood drips out of the corner of his mouth. Matt lays on the ground, clutching his chest, sputtering for breath. As his vision begins to fade, he spots Ben crashing into the room, tackling down Scott. Scott kicks Ben in the chin and fires his gun, chipping Ben in the shoulder. Liz crawls over to Matt, who began crying.

[Matt]: I'm sorry for not being able to save your son, for not being a hero.

[Liz]: It doesn't matter. You risked your career, and your life for me. You are a true hero, Matt.

Matt whimpers in pain as he continues crying.

[Matt]: I don't want to die.

He looks to Liz, who was going pale from the loss of blood.

[Matt]: Thank you.

Liz looks at him, and hugs him tightly.He holds Liz's hand as his eyes close for the final time.

End

You're Winner is...

The winner is Sif for his excellent story and writing talent! Congrats man! and congrats to Jack also!

Fanon Con is over in two days and I've done like 80% of it. HELP HELP, I CAN FEEL IT... MY SOCIAL LIFE... IS DYING...

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