Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

COLD BURN

Powerlord Kruun of the open hand – Ruler of BreakWorld - was not pleased. He rose from his luxurious throne, his towering size made all the more intimidating by the dangerous glint of his silver armor, and the ruthless expression on his face. “You let those Earthling filth land on my planet?” He spoke again, rage and loathing laced his words. “You took an armada with you, and you were yet still out maneuvered and defeated” the Powerlord was not pleased at all, someone would have to die to change that.

His general Orund, knelt to the floor prostrating himself before his ruler. The chill of impending death caused his heart to beat so hard it threatened to leap out his chest. His sweat drenched face was fortunately hidden from view by virtue of his current posture. He curled up even more, trying to make himself look as small as possible, hoping that the Powerlord would ignore him. Orund still felt the phantom pains of his severed arm—a painful reminder of the time when he challenged the Powerlord for his throne.

Orund sucked his saliva and tried speaking “Lord, they had mutants with them. We didn't kno--”

“Silence!” his Lord yelled, cutting him off. Orund was just trying to explain what happened, no one could have prepared for such a scenario and most definitely not in space. How was he to know the mutants had such abilities? The prophecy said it would be a mutant in silver armor they would be facing. How was he to know otherwise? Someone had to be punished for this, and who better than his lieutenant. Yes, he would slaughter that opportunistic runt, and then he would dominate his wife and send the bastard’s children to meet him in the after life.

“You! Come here!” the Powerlord gestured for his Palace guard to approach. The good soldier was steadfast. “die!” Powerlord Kruun wrapped his hands over the guard’s neck lifting him meters off the floor, he savored the fear in the guard’s widened eyes, he enjoyed the guard’s futile struggle in his grip. With a sharp twist and a resounding crack, the struggle ended, the lifeless guard fell limply to the floor. Powerlord Kruun exhaled, satisfied but not satiated. Turning his sight to the cowering general, “You will be next if I hear word of another failure. Bring me the heads of those backwater worms from Earth that dared step on my land.”

“Yes Lord, immediately!” the general answered with a loud pound of his head against the marble tiled floor, causing the cracked the now cracked pieces to cut into the skin of his head. All to the amusement and disdain of Powerlord Kruun. He was disgusted at their weakness, he detested their spineless cowardice. He would say that they deserved all he did to them, as they could not stand to fight him, but only kneel to accept his demands. After all, there was once a time where it was done to him, but he chose to fight, he chose to stand on his broken feet to fight back rather than go on his knees. And look where it brought him, it made him king.

The Powerlord spat on the general's head as he turned, slowly retreating to the inner courts of his palace.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

In a deserted arid region of the BreakWorld, a number spaceships burst through the pink curtains of clouds. And with synchronized harmony their landing systems were deployed. Some of the ships gently glided down with bursts of wind from the propeller wings. Others nearly slammed into the ground, protected only by the thick exhaust cushion of ignited rocket fuel rapidly expelled from the underside. The blazing flames turned the sand beneath each landing vessel to glass. The doors on the various small ships parted with a silent hiss as the many occupants exited silver-gray crafts.

“Touchdown successful. Total casualty of six crew members lost in high orbit from enemy stray shots.” a lieutenant readily reported to Agent Brand, whose brows furrowed at the report. She offered a silent prayer for her lost men, but she had a job to do here and until it was done, she could not allow emotions to cloud her judgment – there was too much on the line.

Exiting the spacecraft after Agent Brand was the trio of Robert Drake, Mindee Cuckoo and the now single armed, Ord of BreakWorld, who was in restraints. He leveled a hateful stare at the teen in a sleeveless hoodie. “Sup, captain hook” the teen mocked, meeting the alien’s heated gaze. Ord’s face contorted in anger at the blatant mockery. His pride was being trod on by a Backwater-planet-born mutant, ‘The same Mutant who took my arm – my honor.’ Ord knew that he would never find that lost glory. He could no longer stand in the presence of other warriors. He had been – without doubt – dominated by an outsider. Should he even commit the customary suicide-rites. His corpse would be fed to the feral beasts of the land, rather than be laid in the glorious death halls of his ancestors.

What other emotion could he show other than anger? He failed to accomplish the greatest mission that could be bestowed upon a Break-Worlder. Not only that, but he also lost his honor! To a CHILD! By rites and custom he had to submit to his dominator, to the child. But the same pride of his that wouldn't allow for it, was the same pride that compelled him to perform his duty or take up the suicide-rites to put it all to an end.

“pff” Ord sighed, he was a warrior, not a thinker. And all this complicated thinking was driving him out of his mind!

‘This guy is going out of his mind’ thought Robert, as he stared at the ever changing expressions rapidly alternating on the alien’s face.

‘I think he’s just really confused about something’ Responded Mindee, via the psionic link she had with her – maybe – boyfriend. ‘Drake’ she called with a more serious tone.

The blue eyed teen turned to face her. ‘Yeah’

‘You do realize I know what you're trying to do right? You'll have to give me an answer soon. I'm letting it go for now since we have a lot on our plate. I just want you not to be scared of telling me how you really feel.’ She reached out her hands to hold his. ‘No, Casanova, I wont read your mind to know how you really feel, I want you to tell me.’

Robert Drake smiled from the bottom of his heart, he felt a type of warmth never before experienced move through his soul ‘It has to be a crime for someone to be this perceptive.’ He said, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Look at you go though, being all loving and whatnot, being kind! What an unbelievable shock, I need to tell the whole world about this’ He laughed.

She playfully nudged him backwards ‘Asshole. Oh, and it looks like you're trying the Reed Richards look’

‘The what?’

‘You’ll understand when you look into a mirror’

“Settle down lovebirds, we've got a job to do here” Agent Brand snappily interjected, gesturing for the various personnel to form a circle around the projectors for briefing.

“The plan was to split up to cover ground and divert attention from the main teams. Well, there's been a radical change to that plan.” She zoomed in on the holograph of high metal structure that stood above the entire city it was situated in. “We now know that the weapon has already been activated from the skeleton signals we tapped into. That means that we are now running on borrowed time, people. There’s not enough time to do this routinely – stealthily. Good thing is, we don't have to”

She pointed at the Iceman “We have enough firepower to make a beeline for the palace and brute force our way in. From there we take over the control center and shut down the weapon. Let's get into the finer details. First, this will be our entrance tactic…...”

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In a large spaceship flying above the surface of BreakWorld, scouring it for the invaders. The various in-dwellers avidly went about their various duties. A map watcher focused on his drop screen zealously. He would normally take his time doing his job, but today he did with an eager sense of purpose so great that it seemed as though his very existence depended on it. And it might actually have, the map watcher saw what General Orund did to lieutenant Uaan. He valued his life, he did not want to end up as another expired body. He focused his entire being into manipulating the equipment that observed the surface.

That was when he saw it. The glaring signatures that were situated on the red desert plains. He shut his eyes, prayed to the aurors that it wasn’t a stress induced hallucination and stared at the map again. He knew what it meant. The map watcher almost stumbled over his words. “Sir! Sir, I found them!” The map watcher loudly alerted. “The invaders, Sir!” he pointed at his screen as he addressed the general who occupied the high seat of the ship.

“Bring it up on the main interface you fool!” the General roared. The map watcher rapidly did as ordered. He promised to make the general pay for the insults and dishonor he suffered today. He imagined his future, the day when he would eventually rise through the ranks, trampling on all those who laughed and mocked him today – especially the general. And then he would become the new Powerlord, all would bow before him! For now the map maker returned to his station, anticipating the day of his ascension with an unbound sense of confidence.

The general eyed the map, confirming that those were indeed foreign signatures. “Full speed ahead to target coordinates! The backwards fools couldn’t even properly hide themselves, their heads will make fine trophies for the lord.” General Orund, had a cruel smirk on his lips. Things were finally working in his favor! He would first capture them, and then he would put them through so much torture that they would beg for death. A request that he would gladly grant them.

The ship zoomed across the skies, rapidly covering vast distances as it tore through pink tufts of clouds that lingered above, joined by a swarm of smaller, darker menacing vessels that raced behind it, like drones behind a queen. The general salivated with great anticipation. He had already planned sufficiently for whatever mutant was involved in leveling the Space-Armada. The weapons onboard of his central ship the gloriously named ‘StrongArm’, would utterly destroy any sort of resistance the mutant could put up and the other vessels accompanying his would be more than enough in subduing the rest of the riffraff – whatever futile resistance the human soldiers thought they could put up. After all the Augurs did say that fire would be their bane but the cold will...Well, they never got to finish their prophecy, the Powerlord granted them freedom from their miserable lives for their failure of not foreseeing such destruction being done to their military Space-Armada.

“There!” One of the many watchers pointed down below through the clear screen at the beings that appeared ant-sized – due to the current height of the ship – moving in a neat file. General Orund, could now see with his very naked eyes, the meager amount of human soldiers who trudged through the sand on foot – These are the so called invaders? These are the ones who took down the space armada? “Perform another deep scan and tell me if there are more of these rats in hiding!” He ordered, wondering if truly they were as dangerous as made out to be, after all, even though the Space-Armada was wiped out they were able to obliterate the human Mother-ship.

That must have resulted in a devastating number of casualties, massively crippling the human forces. As such it would have led to this paltry number of operatives they currently had.

“General sir, these ones before us are the only lifeforms not native to the planet”

“Sir! They have spotted us and are now trying to escape!”

“General, the mutant signature is also among them”

Orund, leered staring down at the humans, They were just favored by luck, up until now! “Deploy the ground force!” at his command the various smaller vessels that followed The StrongArm shot down towards the uniformed soldiers on the ground trying to escape. Forming a wide circular perimeter of steel around their already broken formation.

The Break-World militia made quick exits from their hissing vessels with weapons raised at the invaders. It was an overwhelming sight, dozens of silver armored towering figures stood with their weapons pointed at the twenty-odd number of uniformed agents in masks that obscured their faces.

“General, we have them surrounded!” The captain of the ground force alerted over the comms unit.

“Do you really though?” Said one of the agents with a tone that spoke of immense confidence. The captain looked on in half curiosity and in half bafflement. Are these Earth worlders truly all dumb? He asked himself, he could not understand how someone could be so idiotic.

Was the Earth born soldier blind? Could he not decipher his current predicament. The captain watched the Earthling rip away his mask to show his young, youthful face and striking blue eyes. The earthling then reached to a pouch on his side, causing the captain’s finger to twitch over the trigger of his weapon. The earthling then retrieved a white stick of sorts and like magic – ignited a small flame over his finger to light the stick.

“General, we also have the mutant in sight.” he reported.

“Cripple him and kill the rest!” the general shouted over the comms. The captain aimed, staring at the Earthling who began taking inhales of his stick and blew a cloud of smoke. The smell of it irritated him and grated on his nostrils. He smiled viciously pushed his finger against the soft trigger….

The gun did not softly recoil against his shoulder, the distinct red blast of superheated plasma was not ejected from its nozzle, and the near silent whir of its activation did not reach his ear neither did the scent of burned air.

He tried pulling the trigger again, to no effect. And that was when he began to notice it. He could not make a single movement from his current position – he was unable to even blink. He was frozen, absolutely paralyzed like a statue cast of metal. He began to notice the chill. The frigid cold that devoured his body from the inside to spread it unforgiving tendrils over the light of his soul, it struggled to stay alight, the cold was a flood that broke the flimsy glass barriers meant to hold it back, the light was snuffed out.

He was not alone; thin crystalline layers began to envelope all things – living or not, in close proximity to the blue eyed youth. The ground turned to solid ice as an evaporating cold haze continually lingered over the atmosphere. The figures of the hundreds of Break-World inhabitants in attack postures with their weapons pointed stood frozen around the youth. As though the alien soldiers were left behind by time.

Shit, they didn’t have to die.

“Brand, said we only needed the central ship. Everyone else not on it, isn't.” Robert Drake whispered, looking at the large ship that still hung in the sky.

General Orund felt those eyes look at him. He felt the chill behind them, the chill that spoke of death lingered in the air around him. The crew within The StrongArm were stupefied. The ground force was supposed to be their most elite, the best of the best yet in one moment they were alive and breathing and in the next, they became lifeless sculptures of ice. The general felt the cold beads of sweat trail down his spine beneath his armor. He wanted to attack, to send down the firepower he had prepared, he couldn’t as he was merely frozen in his high seat. Not in ice but in fear.

“Susano’o” said Robert. The odd number of figures around him exposed themselves to be crystal men, their forms rapidly sucked in the ice as they expanded from their clothing to turn into multi-limbed, winged Titans the size of mountains. They stared down at the central ship. One of them stabbing its finger through the ship’s secured door.

The blue-eyed youth slid around the titan’s crystal exterior, rapidly accelerating from the ground up to reach the titan’s finger which acted as a bridge into the ship.

“Surrender,” he said, entering the ship’s interior. “Unless you all want to end up like those guys down below” he gestured backwards, clenching his fist as he did so, turning the various ice statues into nothing but red crystalline dust that dispersed into the surroundings. The smart BreakWorlders surrendered, choosing their lives over honor as did the general, the shadow of death's frigid touch reminded them of what would happen should they not.

He nodded in content, a thin hazel of cold fog, entwined with smoke lingered around his figure. “Agent Brand, I’m in” His blue eyes trailed the interior of the ship, alternating from one silver armored alien to the next. Finally settling on the large, one armed, general Orund who shivered in his spot.

"And I think you're going to like this very much" the youth smiled. To the general it looked no different from the wicked grin of the cursed red devil.

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