#doctor colosso

[the-flower-named-fire]

Specific Trope of the Day

Antagonist that got turned into a animal and became kind of the family's pet (and most likely grew fond of said family)

[retro-frikianos]

EL RINCÓN DEL DR. COLOSSO 2: 50's SCI-FI B-MOVIES

THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL(1951)

[malditoportal]

FUTURE SHOCK (1994)

[sealjellys-archived-posts]

tim & sasha but theyre like the team rocket of the magnus institute.

i would love a no-magnus-institute au where it’s just cliché stuff you’d see in shows like pokémon.

tim and sasha are the antagonists that don’t really do any harm to the actual characters (unless it’s a special episode) but are just rly annoying and pestering and occasionally get along with the protags.

the arthur colosso of the thundermans. the doctor doofenshmirtz of phineas and ferb.

[adrigummi]

Inktober #15: Dr. Colosso

For today, Dr. Colosso, from "The Thundermans" What are you planning, evil rabbit? Dr. Colosso © Jed Spingarn and Nickelodeon

[just-another-thundermans-blog]

Mr. Thunderman, Your Son is a Rocket Scientist, Part  III (DRAFT/IDEA)

-0-

This one is rather short but I wanted to publish it today! That said, I'm not that sure about this one but oh well (EDIT 27/7/20202: AFTER MUCH CONSIDERATION, THE DIALOGUE IN THIS ONE IS WEAK SO I’M NOT USING THIS VERSION AS THE FINAL PRODUCT AND I MIGHT JUST SCRAP IT OFF!)!

---

Original Snippet - Part I - Part II - Part III

-0-

Nora walked down the stairs to Max's lair wearily. Her mother has bullied her into going down and checking on her older brother and maybe trying to convince him to eat. 

It wasn't usually that Barb asked Nora to do anything in the house (not that Nora would have actually done anything had she been asked) and her mother used 'That Tone™', meaning that even if Nora tried to refuse she would have been grounded till she reached thirty. 

So here she was, intruding on Max's 'sanctuary' on the orders of her mother. It was irritating, having to get up from the couch and then take the stairs since there was no guarantee that Max wasn't asleep and unlike Billy she liked to think before diving (in this case literally) into a situation.

She was surprised to see the lights off (since Max hates working in the dark) and she was even more surprised when she saw that her brother was lying on the bed, asleep.

Nora blinked in surprise and slowly started to make her way up the stairs, only for something to catch her eye. She carefully approached Max's working table and silently examined the gadget laying down on it. 

It didn't look impressive, but knowing Max, the thing had more to it than meets the eye. 

Her curiosity peaking, Nora moved her hand towards the invention. Surely Max wouldn't mind if she poked it, right?

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Nora jumped in her place with a small (embarrassing) squeak as she worked around to look at Dr. Colosso. The villain was staring at her with his creepy little eyes and something akin to a warning on his furry little face.

The 8 year old girl tilted her head slightly to the left, as she approached the Doctor, "Why?" She asked curiously.

The villain sighed, "Max spent a lot of time on that, and it incredibly sensitive to touch," He explained slowly, "I don't know what it exactly does, but I do know that touching it would be inadvisable."

Nora thought about it a bit, and then nodded her head, "Fair enough," She replied easily as her eyes found her brother's limo form, "Is he okay though?" 

Colosso snorted, "The kid will be fine he just needs a few good hours of sleep and a couple of meals," 

Nora bit her lip slightly, "I-" She shook her head slightly, "What could have been so important that Max stopped himself from eating and sleeping for over three days? The last time I saw him like this was when the Villain League hosted a competition on Evilgram two years ago!"

Colosso was silent for a few moments before he responded slowly, "Well, you do know about the Nationwide Science Fair that Hiddenville High will be hosting this year, right?"

Nora nodded hesitantly.

"Well, one of the judges will be Robert Lee and you know how much your brother admires the man."

Nora blinked in realization. If it wasn't for the fact that she (and Billy) spend more time around Max than Phoebe then she probably wouldn't have gotten the significance of that sentence. 

"Oh okay," Nora nodded her head slightly, "It's no wonder then! He never shuts up about that man!"

Colosso chuckled, "Yup!"

"What's going on?" Max's groggy voice interjected.

Nora jumped slightly and turned to her brother, who was half sitting and rubbing his eyes, feeling slightly guilty, "Oh sorry," She laughed a bit nervously, "I woke you up didn't I?"

Max frowned slightly, "Yeah," He murmured tiredly as he fell back down on his mattress, "What are you doing here anyway?" He yawned as he tried to get comfortable once more.

Nora perked up as she remembered why she was even here in the first place, "Oh, mom sent me! She wanted me to see if you're hungry or something."

Max frowned even more as he snuggled in his pillow, "I see…" He muttered tiredly, "I'm hungry but," He yawned, "Maybe- Maybe not now…" And with that, Max was plunged headfirst into dreamland. 

Nora laughed slightly as she made her way out of the lair, casting Max's invention one last look. Call her silly, but she had a feeling that Max was going to win this whole thing!

[incorrect-thunderquotes]

After getting hurt at a Z-force mission Max is carried into Metroburgs hospital.

Phoebe: Max, it will be okay! You will be fine!

Max: Phoebe...so you know, if I die...you'll get the most precious of my belongings...

Phoebe: Your supercomputer?

Max:...no...

Phoebe: Your money?

Max:...noo...

Max: Dr. Colosso

Phoebe: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! WE NEED A DOCTOR ASAP!

[universalmovies]

[Recensione] La prima stagione di Iron Fist, la serie tv Marvel/Netflix

[Recensione] La prima stagione di #IronFist, la serie tv #Marvel/#Netflix

Da poco più di una settimana il colosso dello streaming Netflix ha iniziato a distribuire sul proprio catalogo Iron Fist, la nuova serie tv prodotta da Marvel Television dedicata all’ultimo dei mitici Difensori (gli altri sono Daredevil, Jessica Jones e Luke Cage), e ovviamente noi proviamo a dire la nostra sulla prima stagione.

Approfittando dell’approdo di Doctor Strange nel Marvel Cinematic…

[pangeanews]

Tutti si avventano sul corpo di Pasternak: esce un romanzo che ricama intorno a “Zivago” (pagato profumatamente) e la pronipote di Boris mostra le unghie querelando l’autore. Meglio tornare alle poesie…

Boris Pasternak continua a infiammare – d’altronde, gli ingredienti sono speciali: un genio di buona famiglia, un poeta straordinario che ha conosciuto i grandi (Lev Tolstoj, Aleksandr Skrjabin, Rainer Maria Rilke), che è stato molto amato (da Marina Cvetaeva, da Anna Achmatova), che molto ha amato (il matrimonio con Evgenija, poi quello con Zinaida, infine Olga). Il poeta che resiste alle storture del regime sovietico e quel romanzo, Il dottor Zivago, che in modo romanzesco viene pubblicato, in anteprima mondiale, da Feltrinelli, che permette a Pasternak il Nobel per la letteratura clamorosamente rifiutato, che evolve in kolossal cinematografico (bruttino). Intorno, la Cia e il Kgb che sfruttano – o torchiano – il poeta, nel contesto della Guerra Fredda.

*

A questa scenografia da sceneggiato aggiungo due dati, che non smettono di colpirmi. Primo: Pasternak, poeta ritirato, contemplativo, affine ai moti del cosmo più che ai tremori della Storia, diventa un ‘caso internazionale’. In effetti, disperava di veder pubblicato lo ‘Zivago’: “Tenuto conto dello spirito che anima l’opera e degli sviluppi della mia situazione qui in Russia, pubblicare il romanzo è fuori discussione”, scrive alle sorelle, nel 1948. Il secondo dato si lega a questa lettera, inviata a Oxford. Pasternak, di fatto, è solo, in Russia, dal 1921. Il padre, il pittore Leonid, così importante per la sua evoluzione artistica, coglie l’occasione di un ricovero a Berlino, per una operazione agli occhi. Non tornerà più in Russia. Porta con sé moglie e figlie: Josephine, più giovane di dieci anni di Boris, che sarà filosofa e poetessa, e Lydia, più giovane di 12 anni, che sarà chimica e devota traduttrice delle poesie del fratello (le prime poesie “scelte e tradotte” sono edite a Londra nel 1960 e nel 1963). Entrambe dotate di particolare sensibilità, moriranno a Oxford: Lydia trent’anni fa, nel 1989, Josephine quattro anni dopo. In Russia, insieme a Boris, resta il fratello Aleksandr (più giovane di tre anni), che farà carriera come architetto. Pasternak vive in Russia, nei momenti più duri, con la famiglia all’estero, in esilio, tra gli ostili ai bolscevichi.

*

Detto il contesto, i fatti attuali. Lara Prescott, educata in scrittura in Texas, specializzata a Washington D.C. in “scienze politiche”, ha fatto il botto con il primo romanzo. Il libro, The Secrets We Kept, in giro da un mese, romanza ciò che si sa: la missione della Cia “per portare fuori dalla Russia Il dottor Zivago, dove nessuno osa pubblicarlo”. La Prescott s’inventa la figura di Sally Forrester, “spia glamour e sofisticata, che ha affinato il proprio magnetismo per sottrarre segreti a uomini potenti”. Lo 007 in posa sexy già mi annoia, così come la dida prodotta dall’editore: “il romanzo combina una leggendaria storia d’amore – quella tra Boris Pasternak e la sua amante e musa, Olga Ivinskaya – con la narrazione di donne abituate a vivere una esistenza tra rischi e intrighi. Dalla tenuta in campagna di Pasternak alla brutalità dei Gulag, da Washington a Parigi e Milano, il romanzo coglie un momento fondamentale della storia della letteratura mondiale”. Olè. Il romanzo sarà tradotto in 29 lingue, ne faranno un film.

*

L’erede tira fuori le zanne. Anna Pasternak è la pronipote di Boris Pasternak, nipote di Josephine Pasternak. Nel 2016 pubblica un libro, che ha avuto una certa risonanza: Lara. The Untold Love Story and the Inspiration for Doctor Zhivago. Sostanzialmente, si ricama intorno alla storia d’amore tra Boris e Olga, dove c’è molto poco di untold, nel senso che quasi tutto è già stato detto e molto è stato scritto pure dal grande – e vituperato – Boris. Esempio. In una lettera del 7 maggio 1958 a Renate Schweitzer, Pasternak scrive a proposito di Olga: “L’hanno messa in carcere per colpa mia, perché secondo la polizia segreta era lei la persona che più mi era cara; ha subìto interrogatori estenuanti, è stata minacciata, e hanno cercato di ottenere da lei dichiarazioni sufficienti a intentare un processo contro di me. Al suo eroismo e alla sua fermezza io devo la vita, ed è stato solo per merito suo se in quegli anni non mi hanno mai toccato”. Bene. Anna Pasternak, che specula come può sui ricordi dei cari, notevoli avi, intenta una causa contro Lara Prescott e il suo editore, il colosso Penguin Random House. Ha accusato la Prescott di plagio. L’editore ricorda che la sua autrice, invece, si è informata leggendo diversi libri, dalle memorie di Olga Ivinskaya (pubblicate a Parigi poi tradotte a Londra, nel 1978, come A Captive of Time: My Years with Pasternak) a The Zhivago Affair di Peter Finn e Petra Couvée (2015). Da difendere, più che l’onore di famiglia, c’è il conto in banca: pare che alla Prescott abbiano dato 2 milioni di dollari per il libro su Pasternak…

*

Recentemente, dalle righe del “New York Times”, parlando del tomo di Anna Pasternak, Sophie Pinkhan ha messo una pietra sul genere spionistico intorno a “Zivago”: “Gli amanti di Pasternak e gli incurabili romantici farebbero meglio a rileggere Il dottor Zivago e a scavare tra le tante memorie e le fonti che stanno alla base di questo e di altri inutili, nuovi libri”. Io aggiungo ciò che nessuno si è ancora premurato di dire. Riguardo alle “avventure editoriali del capolavoro di Pasternak”, connesse alla sua fatale storia d’amore, ha detto tutto ciò che bisogna sapere, con sfarfallio di documenti, Paolo Mancosu in un libro vasto (490 pagine) e bellissimo, Zivago nella tempesta, edito da Feltrinelli – e chi altri – nel 2015. Vi è raccolta anche quella lettera di Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, datata 5 settembre 1958: “Grazie per Il dottor Zivago, per tutto quello che ci ha insegnato. In un’epoca in cui i valori umani vengono accantonati, gli esseri umani vengono ridotti a robot e la maggior parte delle persone pensa soltanto a fuggire da se stessa e a risolvere i problemi del proprio ego affrettandosi e uccidendo quanto resta della sua sensibilità umana, Zivago ha impartito una lezione indimenticabile. Ora so che ogni volta che non saprò come andare avanti potrò tornare a Zivago e imparare da lui la più grande lezione di vita. Zivago sarà sempre accanto a me quando queste cose mi sembreranno perse per sempre, per aiutarmi a ritrovare i valori semplici e profondi della vita”. È questo – è tutto.

*

Luca Doninelli ha detto che sono i versi più belli dell’ultimo ghirigoro di secoli. Ha ragione. Un brandello da Le onde. “Imparentati a tutto ciò che esiste, convincendosi/ e frequentando il futuro nella vita di ogni giorno/ non si può non incorrere, infine, come in un’eresia/ in un’incredibile semplicità”. Eccolo, Pasternak – il resto, è chiacchiera, è mondo, immondo. (d.b.)

L'articolo Tutti si avventano sul corpo di Pasternak: esce un romanzo che ricama intorno a “Zivago” (pagato profumatamente) e la pronipote di Boris mostra le unghie querelando l’autore. Meglio tornare alle poesie… proviene da Pangea.

from pangea.news https://ift.tt/2mQUCVm

[retro-frikianos]

EL RINCÓN DEL DOCTOR COLOSSO 1: 50's SCI-FI B-MOVIES

THIS ISLAND EARTH (1955)

[malditoportal]

[malditoportal]

https://msfrikianos.blogspot.com/2022/06/el-rincon-del-doctor-colosso-416.html

[just-another-thundermans-blog]

Max and Dr. Colosso’s Friendship

Ahhhh~ If it isn’t one of the most wholesome things this show has to offer! The friendship made between those two is a match made in hell considering the huge amount of stupid decisions that Dr. Colosso often talks Max into.

All things considered though, their friendship always makes me smile. Dr. Colosso obviously cares about Max (even if he always gives him bad advice) and Max loves to spend time with the villain! The doctor’s eccentricity does help too!

I just- Their friendship is amazing and their bond is admirably sweet! I love them!

[just-another-thundermans-blog]

All Alone - Chapter 2 Part II

Beginning - Previous

-0-

He watched mutely, as the pallbearers began carrying each and every member of his family. It was a closed-casket kind of thing so none of the (nosy) mourners got to see the state that each Thunderman was in. He heard some displeased whispers before the ceremony even began but he was just so damn exhausted that he ignored them. 

Those sorts of people were the absolute worst and he already feels bad enough without causing a public scene for the tabloids to have a field day about. He knew there were some photographers and journalists in the (quite huge) crowd (it was one of the reasons why he wanted to have a small, private, funeral but his family was practically celebrities around here so he really had no choice in the matter-) and there was absolutely no need for him to feed them headlines for their next big scoop.

Disgusting.

He marched behind the pallbearers dead-eyed and watched them carefully weave through the twists and turns of the streets. He had wanted to participate in bearing the caskets but considering that five people had died, he felt that it wouldn't have been fair of him to help carry one of the caskets and not all.

When they reached the cemetery, it felt like time itself started slowing down. Things began to get clearer and it was as though reality came crashing down on him because (suddenly-) the grief became that much more palpable and holding back tears started to feel more and more difficult.

Max's chest ached with loss and grief as he watched the people lower down the five caskets 6 feet into the ground. It felt like the universe was hammering in the fact that his family was not coming back. He blinked rapidly as tears streaked their way down his pale cheeks and took a shaky breath. He wanted to look away, he really did, but he felt like he owed it to his family that he sees this through to the end. 

He wouldn't be a coward now. Not when it truly counts.

-0-

People giving you their condolences after the burial of a loved one (or multiple loved ones in this case) felt… awkward.

At this point, he wanted nothing more than to disappear off the face of Earth. He didn't want anything to do with those people (especially since so many have come-) and it showed in the way he stared at every single one of them through hollow eyes. It felt painfully awkward for all those involved but, soon enough, it was over. 

Many people rushed out of the cemetery as the sky darkened ominously and the clouds started packing together. The day had been sunny so far, and the weather forecast declared it a perfectly sunny day, so no one had the foresight to bring along an umbrella and they'd all rather not get wet.

Max didn't care much about that. He simply stood, rooted to his spot, in front of the five graves and stared at them with the intensity of someone who wanted nothing more for them than to disappear. He felt something spark in his chest, but he wasn't sure what it was (nor did he want to know).

Thunder blared loudly, its sound bouncing off the graves in the cemetery. At this point, there was almost no one in the vicinity to hear nature's warning. Only the dead and the boy who was as good as dead.

Eventually, some point after the rain started pouring, Max heard the footsteps of someone approaching. They were light (so obviously; not Blobbin-) and measured in a way that made him know that whoever was approaching him wanted him to know that they were coming. 

Eventually, the footsteps slowed to a stop (next to him). Max felt his curiosity rise (unbidden) from the depths of his body but didn't make a single move to satisfy it. 

"Hello, Max." The mystery person spoke.

Max's eyes widened slightly. That voice…

"President Kickbutt." He stated quietly; sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. 

The woman simply inclined her head in his direction, not taking her eyes off of the graves.

Max blinked emotionlessly (not really, but he was too damn tired to even think about it-) and turned his gaze towards his family's final resting place, "What brings you here?" He asked quietly.

The woman gave a mirthless puff of laughter, not paying any mind to the rain drenching her, "I never left." She drawled out; enunciating every syllable.

Max felt his brows furrow in confusion, "You didn't…? Why?" He asked, perplexed.

He didn't see the action, but he was about 70% sure that Kickbutt shrugged her shoulders.

"I wanted to talk to you," The President of the Hero League replied easily.

Max pursed his lips as a stab of irrational irritation traveled through his body. He shoved his soaking hands into his equally wet pockets and fully faced her. 

The Superheroine was dressed in a simple black skirt and a formal suit jacket. Her coat, which stopped at her knees just a few inches below her skirt, was also black. And thick. Way too thick for July.

She, for all intents and purposes, looked like she was going to attend a business meeting rather than go to a funeral. He mentally shrugged his shoulders and decided that it didn't matter.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Max snapped in disbelief; a sneer curling on his lip.

"Yes," The woman replied evenly, "I wanted to talk to you." She turned her gaze to him.

Max barked out a humorless laugh and covered his eyes, "Okay…" He bit his lip slightly and nodded to himself, "Okay," He smirked, though his eyes were devoid of joy, and tilted his head, "Let me do you a better one." His smile dropped and he took a step closer to the unflinching woman.

"Why here?" He hissed angrily, "Why now?" He felt his hands, which he had ripped out of his pockets a while ago, curl into fists. He wasn't even sure why he was this irritated. This… angry.

President Kickbutt tilted her head lightly to the side, as she regarded him with something akin to wariness, "This is the only place that you and I can visit at the same time," She replied calmly, "Also, I only have an hour of free time remaining today before I have to go back to my duties and, even then, I probably won't catch a break in a very long time."

Max clenched his jaw and tried his best to calm down. He knew he was being irrational, he knew he shouldn't direct his anger at her, he knew. That didn't stop him from being angry though. 

"Fine," He finally gritted out, "Let us talk. What did you want to say?" He took a few steps back and promptly focused his gaze on the set of five graves that lay in front of him.

President Kickbutt remained silent, and Max felt his irritation spike again. She wanted to talk, didn't she? Why wasn't she talking then?

"I wanted to discuss your options for the future," The woman finally spoke; carefully dragging out her syllables, "And inform you of… a few things about the incident."

Max clenched his eyes briefly as his nostrils flared. Five minutes. Can't he go for five minutes without someone reminding him that he was basically both alone and homeless? That he had no one left for him? That he had nothing?

President Kickbutt, taking his lack of response for what it was, continued, "Blobbin offered you a space with him, didn't he?"

Max frowned despondently, "Yes." He mumbled, his voice barely heard above the rain.

"And did you reply?" Kickbutt asked curiously.

Max pursed his lips, "No. Not yet." He muttered, scuffing his shoe lightly on the muddy ground. 

Kickbutt hummed, "Okay. Are you going to accept?" 

Max shrugged non-committedly, "Maybe, maybe not." 

Kickbutt remained silent.

For a moment, the only sound in the cemetery was the sound of rain hitting the ground and the graves rhythmically. For a moment, Max closed his eyes and imagined a scenario where none of this happened. For a moment, everything was okay. Even if it wasn't.

"...You do realize that you don't have many options beyond that, right?" Kickbutt breathed out, her voice barely reaching Max.

Jarred out of the tantalizing fantasy his mind composed, Max sighed heavily, "Yes. I know."

Kickbutt went silent again.

Max felt a small smile creep on his face as he remembered Dr. Colosso's nickname for the President ('Villains don't respect heroes Maxie!') but, just as quickly as the smile appeared, it fell off his face. Dr. Colosso...

"Hey…" Max gasped out, panic clawing viciously on his guts, and whipped his head towards the (surprised) superheroine, "Dr. Colosso! What happened to him?"

President Kickbutt pursed her lips and turned away from him and that alone was answer enough.

Max felt a fresh wave of grief and loss move through his body and tried to brace himself against the onslaught. Even Colosso hadn't been safe from the attack. Colosso… Colosso was a villain. 

Max clenched his eyes shut as his emotions warred in his chest. The grief that had dulled somewhat in the last few minutes (President Kickbutt unknowingly served as a distraction) returned with a vicious vengeance. His best friend… How did he not think to ask about his one and only friend? 

Colosso- Colosso was the one person who had been there for him through thick and thin. When he was being bullied by the other supe-kids (as his dad had dubbed them.) in school, Colosso was the one to give him advice about dealing with them. When he declared his desire to become a supervillain, Colosso was the only one to not laugh at him. When he first started out as an inventor, Colosso was the first to congratulate him on his inventions (and even gave Max pointers on how to improve them!).

The 15-year-old pressed a shaking hand to his mouth. He had not asked after his (only) friend- he had not searched for his (only) friend- he forgot about his only friend.

Hot tears contrasted heavily with the cold rain as they mixed together on Max's face. Guilt, sadness, grief, horror, loss all swirled around in his being. How could he- how could he-

"Max," He felt someone lay a hand on his shoulder. Max opened his eyes, but did not move his gaze from the ground, nor did he move his hand.

"I wanted to inform you earlier about… the 'doctor's' status," The lady grumbled; her tone turning a bit strange as she pronounced the word 'doctor', "I'm sorry you had to know now, but there was no helping it. Not with the league's condition."

Max nodded slightly and attempted to swallow around the sudden lump that formed in his throat.

"We buried him in the villain cemetery, in case you wanted to know." She said awkwardly.

Max nodded once more as a pang went through his chest. He didn't even attend Colosso's funeral. His best friend must be rolling in his grave by now.

Max carefully removed his hand from his mouth and took a deep, shaky, breath, "Is there… is there anything else that I- That I need to- to know?" He stuttered slightly; his voice cracking in multiple places.

Unfortunately, Kickbutt nodded. The woman was starting to look more and more uncomfortable and it was obvious that whatever news she had left wouldn't be good, "We have evidence that suggests that Dark Mayhem was involved."

Max felt his eyes widen. His grief forgotten for a moment, he turned towards the superheroine, "W-what?" 

The lady looked at him with pity, but Max was too shocked to even feel angry about it, "He- They left a letter. We found it in your room in the basement."

Max felt all blood drain from his face as a violent sense of vertigo threatened to make him keel over. He did stumble, but Kickbutt wasn't a superheroine for nothing. 

"A- A letter?" Max mumbled numbly, "They left a letter?" He rasped in disbelief.

President Kickbutt looked at him with concern, but nodded nonetheless, "Yes. We already read it to make sure it didn't have any… dangerous content, and," The woman paused for a moment and took a deep breath, "It strongly suggested that Dark Mayhem was the one to command the attack on your house."

It was truly a testament to Max's strength that he didn't keel over right then and there. As it is, his head was spinning and it was only Kickbutt's hand gripping his arm that kept him from kissing the muddy ground.

As it is, the 15-year-old blinked heavily and attempted to fight off the dizziness that threatened to steal his senses, "Can I," He began hesitantly as Kickbutt slowly released his arm, "Can I have that letter?" He asked, voice wavering slightly.

The woman considered for a moment... before she nodded, "I don't see why not," She replied honestly, "I'll see to it."

Max nodded slowly, "Thanks." He said with relative sincerity even though his voice sounded as hollow as he felt.

President Kickbutt patted his shoulder. 

No other words were exchanged between them after that.

-0-

Next

[just-another-thundermans-blog]

All Alone - Chapter 2 Part I

Beginning - Previous

[A/N: This chapter deals with the aftermath of Chapter 1 and so, it will be more heavy than its predecessor! I hope you like it!]

---

TRIGGER WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH AND SUBSEQUENT FUNERAL, SHOCK, ANXIETY ATTACK, AND MENTAL BREAKDOWNS! IF ALL OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU THEN DON'T READ!

---

The Hero League didn't take long to arrive. 15 minutes had barely passed since he had called them but, soon enough, the door was being broken down and heroes were swarming into the house like ants on a piece of candy.

Max didn't react to any of that, far too lost in grief and shock to respond to anything. He was sure that President Kickbutt was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't discern anything she was saying from the buzz of static in his ears. 

He wasn't sure what was actually happening outside of his consciousness. His hands felt clammy but that's about all he can currently, consciously, feel. His mind was suddenly having trouble processing everything and anything, and he felt like he was floating on some unknown planet. 

Images of his family kept replaying in his mind like a twisted version of one of those stupid PowerPoint Presentations that the teachers in Hiddenville (Metroburg uses holograms) use. The images kept flashing between past and present. Phoebe laughing with Cherry, Phoebe dead on the floor of her room, Mom and Dad joking and teasing each other, Mom and Dad dead in the living room, Billy and Nora running around the house playing, Billy and Nora broken and bleeding behind Phoebe.

He wasn't sure what he was even feeling anymore. Sometimes the fog clears up and he feels vestiges of something- something that hurts and burns and leaves him breathless with its intensity, but most of the time it's simply nothing but a blurred perception of everything and flashing images of his loved ones. 

He wasn't sure where he even was anymore. At times, he gets moments of clarity where he's in a bare room with nothing but white everywhere (why is it all white though? It was dark in his house and the walls weren't that white so where was he-), but soon enough they all blend back into the blur of static and confusion that he unwittingly found himself in. 

He just felt so heavy and so weightless at the same time, and his head felt like it was full of cotton wool. Then as suddenly as that sensation developed, he abruptly felt his surroundings sharpen and his sense of perception clear up. It was as though a switch had been flipped, and it was so disorienting, he felt like his very soul was being jarred from its place. 

Feeling his heart rate increasing as his breathing got faster and faster, Max took quick stock of his surroundings. Heart monitor, I.V. drip, soft white sheets, and an overbearing smell of antiseptic- oh shoot he was in a hospital room (which explained all the whiteness). 

Suddenly, doctors and nurses swarmed into the room, increasing his anxiety and making him panic even more. He was in a hospital- he couldn't be in a hospital- what about their secret, it'll all be revealed and his parents would be so mad and disappointed-

His chest burned with the lack of oxygen and he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to take deep, even, breaths (just like Dr. Colosso always said-) and calm down enough to think the situation through. It didn't work. Panic had already consumed him in its powerful dark grip, and his throat was beginning to feel clogged and he couldn't breathe properly-

A sensation of cool calmness invaded his frenzied senses and calmed his frazzled nerves as he felt his eyes droop in sudden exhaustion. Soon after, his vision went black and all thoughts of the material world fled his head.

-0-

President Kickbutt was not having a good week. Between the endless mountains of paperwork and Max's call, the Hero League was at an all-time worst. There wasn't a hero in Metroburg that hasn't heard of the Thunderman tragedy and most were shocked, frightened even, that such a prominent superhero family was so easily killed. 

Hank Thunderman was known for his abnormal strength and his ability to conquer even the toughest of opponents (as his fight with the Green Ghoul 20 years prior proved-) and his death had brought about a sudden instability that hadn't been in the hero community since before his debut as a hero. 

His son, Max, was another can of worms entirely. Ever since he was in Middle School, the boy wanted nothing more than to be a supervillain. He kept telling everyone and anyone that would listen to him that he's going to be the 'greatest supervillain' and surpass even Dark Mayhem. He always punctuated his statements with outrageous pranks and remarks and (according to his teachers) he was an absolute terror with abysmal marks. From what she had seen though, Max Thunderman was nothing if not confident and witty, and when she found him at what remained of the Thunderman home in Hiddenville, she was shaken to her core.

He looked so lost, and he wouldn't respond to anyone or anything. He just kept staring into thin air with glazed over eyes and ragged breathing, looking for all the world like someone who had died on the inside. Remembering the look in his eyes, as he was carted away by the Metroburg ambulance team, made her cringe and shudder every time. Poor boy didn't deserve what was happening to him.

A week had passed since the incident and yet Max wasn't showing any sign of recovery. Blobbin had already requested that the boy be transferred into his care immediately but she wanted to give Max a chance to choose his new guardian. She wouldn't take his right to choose, he had lost too much already and (by the look of things) Blobbin agreed. 

It was all a big mess and Kickbutt was in the process of drinking some afternoon coffee (trying to unwind a bit-) when the Metroburg City Hospital called. Apparently, Max had responded to something but-

"We had to sedate him," Said the Doctor over the phone.

"What?" Kickbutt gritted out as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Gosh, the kid just woke up why-

"He was showing signs of an Anxiety Attack," The doctor, whose name she can't remember for the life of her, responded, "It could've set back his recovery, and we had to act quickly."

Kickbutt exhaled through her nostrils and set down the phone for a moment. This was all such a royal mess, wasn't it?

"President Kickbutt?" A hesitant voice sounded from the speaker of her phone.

Kickbutt felt her eye twitch as she bit her lip in frustration. Yup, it was a huge mess.

-0-

When Max came to, almost 12 hours later, the first thing he noticed was the stark white ceiling. Strange, that wasn't how his ceiling looked. He blinked again as his memories started to trickle in slowly. He was in… a hospital. He closed his eyes a bit in frustration. Why was he in a hospital- where was his family? Just- what happened???

A soft knock sounded on the door. Max just had the time to incline his head towards it when a nurse invited herself in. She looked… plain, to say the least. Her brown hair, dark eyes, and peachy complexion did not make her stand out much.

The lady was holding something in her hand, something sharp and pointy- oh God that was a syringe-. He took a sharp intake of breath and fought the urge to scream. He felt his body tense involuntarily and, apparently, he inhaled too loudly because the nurse suddenly noticed him. 

"Oh! You're awake!" She crowed and immediately started buzzing a strange button by his bed. 

Max didn't reply though, too focused on the object in her hand to really consider talking. She turned to him, brandishing the syringe in her hand (the urge to scream strengthened), and smiled sweetly, "The doctor will be here shortly." She said and then raised the syringe. 

Max eyed the thing with slight fear, but as the nurse stabbed the I.V. drip next to his bed with it, he felt the tension bleed from his shoulders and relief settle in his bones. Thank Goodness that thing wasn't being stabbed into his arm instead!

His thought process was interrupted when three polite knocks sounded on the door. This time, a man with salt and pepper hair and a rather friendly face invited himself into the room. He smiled serenely at Max as the boy pushed himself upright. The 15-year-old staunchly ignored the slight (almost unnoticeable) weakness in his arms, and began to wonder just how long was he asleep for? 

"Good evening, Max. I'm Doctor Kevin," The doctor said as he adjusted the file in his hands, "How are you feeling today?" He asked with a friendly smile.

Max blinked at the harmless question (that the doctor was probably hoping would put him at ease) and licked his chapped lips. He tried to talk but his throat protested the action vehemently. Wincing, he pointed at his throat and hoped that the doctor would get the memo.

The doctor (now known as Dr. Kevin) nodded sheepishly and turned to the plain nurse, "Please, pour him a cup of water."

The nurse nodded (looking more dignified than she had when she barged into the room) and proceeded to fiddle with a closed bottle of water that had been sitting on the table next to him. Max blinked and turned back to the doctor.

Doctor Kevin smiled evenly, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions right now," He said kindly as the nurse handed Max the cup of water. The 15-year-old nodded a bit absently as he stared at the paper cup in his hand.p

The doctor nodded patiently and pointed at him with a pen that he got from… somewhere, "We'll answer them all in due time, but for now, you should probably drink some water."

Max nodded, still not entirely there, and took a slow sip before he gulped the whole thing down. Gosh, he didn't know he was so thirsty until now. He nodded at the nurse gratefully and handed her the paper cup.

Looking at the doctor, Max tilted his head, "What-" He paused, cleared his throat (his voice sounded so scratchy-), and then tried again, "What happened? Why am I here?" He, despite his best efforts, rasped out.

The doctor looked at him critically for a few moments, "You truly don't remember, do you?"

Max wrinkled his nose in frustration, "Remember what? The last thing I remember was being stuck in detention," -and feeling an acute sense of danger.

"...I see," Murmured the doctor looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"You didn't answer me though," Max deadpanned, fisting his sheets, "What happened- why am I here- I- Where's my family?" 

The doctor ceased all action before he gently closed the file. He peered at Max through sad eyes full of pity, and Max found himself growing angry. He hated pity.

"Don't just stand there!" Max snarled, "Tell me what's wrong- what happened?! Where is everyone?!" He could feel his breathing elevate as his anxiety skyrocketed all of a sudden. He had a feeling he won't like the answer.

The doctor looked at him with a strange look, "Max," The man said slowly, "I need you to calm down."

"Calm down?!" Max laughed a bit hysterically, hating the way his voice cracked, "How do you want me to calm down when you won't tell me what the hell is going on?!?" He wasn't shouting- not quite at least.

The doctor looked the epitome of calmness as he cautiously approached his bedside, "I understand," He replied evenly, "I just need you to calm down before you launch yourself into an anxiety attack."

"But-"

"Calm down, breathe evenly," The doctor paused, looking like he was considering his options, "And I'll tell you everything. Does that sound good?"

Max glared at the man but jerkily nodded as he averted his gaze to his fisted hands. He tried his best to even out his breathing through the breathing exercises that Colosso had taught him. It was a lot of work, but he managed a semi-calm state.

The doctor, who at some point pulled up a chair to his bedside, studied him critically, "Are you feeling better?"

Max bit his lip at the surge of irrational anger that flooded his veins and sighed in frustration, "Less angry, I guess," He mumbled out, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Good," The doctor nodded, "Now, I need you to focus with me because what I'm about to say isn't going to be easy to hear."

Max looked at him as slight anxiety prickled at his chest, "Something bad happened." He stated anxiously.

The doctor pursed his lips, "Unfortunately, yes."

"And I can't remember...?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Max clenched his eyes briefly and fought the urge to yell again, "Why?" He gritted out instead, fisting the sheets of his hospital bed.

The doctor barely reacted to his tone, "I can only assume it's a defense mechanism that your brain activated," The man said, his tone even, "It is not unheard of for victims of trauma to block out unpleasant memories, especially if said memories cause them grief."

Max licked his lips as slow, venomous, panic clawed at his very heart, "What-" He swallowed and cleared his throat as his voice broke slightly, "What… what happened?" He asked hesitantly.

Doctor Kevin looked at him with a pained expression, "Brace yourself," He said quietly. 

Just then, with that one little statement, all of Max's alarm bells blared to life. 

"Are you ready?" The man inquired gently, and Max could literally feel his heart plummet.

The truth is, he really didn't want to hear this because- what could have possibly been so traumatic and horrifying that his brain had to block it out as a defense mechanism? 

(he already had a few ideas but none that he particularly wanted to entertain.)

Max closed his eyes and worried his lip. He really needed to know, but he didn't want to. 

Coming to a decision, Max nodded jerkily and braced himself mentally (preparing for the worst.)

"Today is Thursday, June 16th, 2015" The doctor started heavily; carefully avoiding Max's confused gaze, "About a week ago, the Thunderman house in Hiddenville received an attack by a villain not yet identified,"

Max felt his eyes widen as memories began to trickle in. Mom, Dad, Phoebe, Billy, and Nora- all- all-

"The unknown villain has succeeded in…" The doctor paused to collect his words, noticing the slowly growing look of horrified realization on Max's face, "assassinating," The man tactfully ignored the choked noise that escaped Max's lips, "almost the entire family. Only one person remains now, and.." Here, the doctor hesitated.

Max, who had gone so pale his complexion almost matched the hospital sheets, carefully looked at the doctor, "And what?" He murmured hoarsely, barely keeping it together.

"You're the only person that survived the attack, Max. I'm so sorry."

Max didn't respond after that. He felt a familiar sting behind his eyes and the stupid lump in his throat that could only be the result of incoming tears. He tried to rub his eyes to ward off the stupid burning sensation behind his retinas though judging by slight wetness he felt on his cheeks, he wasn't quite successful.

The doctor gently patted his shoulder and stood up, "I'm so sorry for your loss," The man stated quite sadly, "I'll give you a moment alone." And with that, the man left the room.

It was only when he was truly, finally, alone that Max allowed his sobs to escape him in the form of heartwrenching wails of anguish and sorrow.

-0-

It feels surreal, Max thought idly not really paying attention to his surroundings. He was dressed in all black and while that normally wouldn't have made a difference, it seemed especially prominent on the day of his family's funeral.

A lot of.. people actually came. He had known that his family was prominent (his father was one of the most celebrated superheroes in the country for God's sake-) but it still felt… unnatural.

Many people had come to him before the beginning of the service to wish him condolences. Some were sympathetic, others looked like they didn't particularly care as long as they made themselves look good.

Personally, he just wanted to be done with it and just go… somewhere (Blobbin was hovering nearby maybe he'd actually take him up on his offer-). The whole thing felt out of place.

The ceremony itself passed in a blur and he didn't pay attention (too lost in his own dark thoughts and grief) until it was time for his eulogy. He hadn't come with a pre-prepared speech like most of the others did, so he had to come up with something on the fly. 

He wasn't known for his quick wit for nothing, though. Quickly and in less than 5 minutes, Max successfully composed a 25-minute eulogy celebrating the lives of Hank, Barb, Phoebe, Billy, and Nora Thunderman. He told stories of the family chilling under the sun and basking in the summer heat on the many picnics they used to hold. He told the mourners of the achievements of each and every one of them, he celebrated his kin for the little things that made them, well, them, and he made sure that every member of his late family would be remembered for who they were and not what they were thought to be. 

By the end of his speech, he was left feeling exhausted and raw. He hated crying in public and, considering who had just died and his state of affairs, he shed quite a few tears, but (he kept reminding himself over and over) this was for Mom and Dad and Phoebe and Billy and Nora. They deserved this and he would give nothing less. 

Even if he felt disconnected from himself. Even if it hurt him and his heart felt like it was being ripped to little pieces. It didn't matter. It was for them.

Everything was for them.

-0-

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[malditoportal]