Chapter 2: The man called Thunderstruck

Climbing the steps to his Aunt's large abode, Wendell reveled in his victory over Stomms. But was it really a fair fight? Wendell had, after all, his physique turbo charged to ghastly proportions. Who cares? Wendell thought, he got what he deserved. "Ah Wendell, you've arrived!," said his Uncle Rodney, a well respected tinkerer and noted crack-pot, who was wearing his latest contraption; a toothbrush helmet that synced itself to your whistles.What Aunt Bernice ever saw in him was anyone's guess. Dinner was served promptly at seven and as bread was passed, the seven of them shared their day's events with one another. Wendell restrained himself, as his was too outlandish to be perceived as 'believable' by such a motley bunch.

Far off in space, a formerly mortal man cloaked in blue and silver was pondering the course of fate and the universe at large. He rested on a throne made from his own design, carved out of space rock and fashioned to the surface of the planet; his name was Warlon. He saw the stars, multitudinous and old, but it was one such star that caught his attention. Magnifying his sight a trillion-fold, he could see people dying en masse from an impossible horror; a star wraith known as Orlock. Orlock began life, much like Warlon had, an impossible number of years ago when our star cluster was a budding mass of possibilities. He was the right hand of deity named Jordo who saught to bring law and order to the universe. But Orlock, as he was pre-destined to do, killed Jordo but not before Jordo activated a fail-safe that annihilated the entire galaxy, save for Warlon who floated aimlessly for what seemed like millennia in a sea of blank white space.

Warlon went mad here, all alone with with his thoughts. This is where his powers first manifested through a psychotic break. His brain trembled and his body morphed. His skin was deemed uncomfortable and stripped away, only to have a single tableau of stardust coating his body, bristling against his veins and muscles. Though the madness got to him, he tried to focus his thoughts on something pure and sweet; a meadow full of flowers and greenery as far as the eye could see. He soon remade the animals and the buildings and the people who lived inside them. They had no idea what happened and they were none the wiser.He watched them progress faster than they ever had before, spinning towards a future that seemed as promising as it was deadly. But he created a task force of operatives, both alien and human, that would watch over them and keep the peace, much like Warlon would on his throne at the edge of known space. But Orlock's return worried him, frightened him even. If he could retrive the tomes of power (a sword, a helmet, and a suit of armor) and imbue himself with them, he would become unstoppable and wreck havoc once again.Warlon would not and could not allow that to happen. He sent row after row of men and women after Orlock only to see them torn to shreds and devoured. Things were desperate but not hopeless. He peered into the mind of Wendell Sachs as he slept and saw something remarkable. Despite his meekness, he lived as a hero and would die as one. He wanted nothing more than to be a savior of mankind and his recent transformation, dubbed "Stupor", proved that. He decided then and there to train Wendell to make him truly worthy of his newfound godhood.

Elswhere in our meager star cluster was a bruised and battered Zachary Stomms, slumped in a hospital bed, bereft of any companionship. One could say a life lived in the company of others purely due to a high social status is truly a lonely one. As the sun set, he saw a small red slug slither towards him and Zachary wondered what had been put in his evening meal. "Good Evening Mr. Stomms, I hope you are well regardless of your present physical aliments," spoke the slug, all to aware of Zachary's reaction, "I assure you sir, I am as real as that broken wrist of yours. I am much like you more or less, a man weakened by those around him, who saught a higher state of being in order to rebel against the status quo. Experimentation makes the heart grow fonder I always say~ And so, I escaped the flesh of my dying body and transplanted it into that of this slug. I offer you the same chance in light of your recent predicament." "You're gonna make me a slug?" "Oh no, no, no, nothing that drastic. I was thinking something more along the lines of what you Americans revel in, superheroics." The slug, once called Nikolai Razran Yanowitch in another life, released a small black creature from a vial on his side and watched as it burrowed into Stomms' naval. It soon engulfed his body, turning him into a muscle bulging imitation of himself drapped in black with a huge crackling lightning bolt across his right side. "Good, good! Now go my friend and show the world the power you now possess as the man known as Thunderstruck!"