Thread: Oz

You've heard of Captain America, Captain Britain and maybe even Captain Canuck, now I give you the first draft beginnings of Captain Australia better known as Captain Oz, probably even better known as Oz - I'm still working on it and haven't touched it for months.
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"Congratulations Barry. You are now as good as an SAS soldier as any other Briton." said the Doctor.

"I'm Australian."

"Sure you are Barry and I am Captain America."

"Bloody poms. I'm going home." Barry said standing up.

"I wouldn't stand up just yet Barry. The withdrawal effects..."

"Why is the room spinning?" Barry collapsed back on to the bed. "What's wrong with me?"

"We resequenced your DNA. We pumped out of your body certain proteins that would lead to various ill effects on your health. You don't think we would waste something like this on someone from the colonies do you?"

Barry, however, did not hear this comment as he had lost consciousness.

"Someone from the colonies indeed!" the Doctor sardonically commented as he made his notes.

* * * * * * *

Barry awoke in a single bed room with bright white walls that would give the sheen of platinum a run for its money. Barry raised his arms to shield his eyes from the soulless reflection. The smell of disinfectant revealed it to be a hospital. Barry had no sooner got his bearings when in walked the doctor that treated him earlier. The Doctor repeated what he had told Barry earlier and explained some more.

"So what are you saying Doc," Barry asked, "What am I? Some kind of super soldier?"

"Something like that. Only if you keep taking these pills." The Doctor handed Barry a bottle of pills. "They will keep your DNA from reverting to its less mature form."

"What happens when I run out?"

"We will give you some more."

Barry had not entirely shaken off the cobwebs from whatever medical procedure he had endured, so he was not entirely lucid. However, Barry was not stupid, he knew these pills would keep him hostage in Old Blighty. That is one stain he could do without.

"Do you have more?"

"If we don't we'll make some more."

That answer disappointed Barry. If he knew they had some more he could simply requisition them and be on his way to the colonies. His fellow countrymen had been sent there for less. To the disappointment of Great Britain and the United States, Australia was now the most livable country in the world.

"How often will I have to take them?"

"We don't know," the Doctor said looking glum. "We think if you take too many, the changes will become permanent."

"It is not a permanent change?" Barry was becoming more and more confused by the situation he found himself in. He looked the Doctor up and down trying to keep his appearance firmly in mind but apart from the lab coat, he found the Doctor to be completely nondescript.

Barry had been an elite SAS trooper in Perth, Australia. So much so that both the US and UK were interested in him. He is simply that good. Much of the interest had been created because Australian SAS troopers rarely saw action. He had just completed twelve months in the United States – six months with the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team and six months with Delta Force. Barry had proved he really was that good in the field. Britain had picked him up for a three month stint but has been mistaken for one of them. He was one week out from the end of his duty in the UK when this – whatever this was – happened. The problem for Barry was he had kept Mum about being an Aussie.

"Not yet," said the Doctor, "We cannot risk you going renegade on us. I have told you too much all ready. Others will be along to see you when the time is right. Get some rest."

With that the Doctor left the sterile room and switched off the lights.

I like it. It drew me in, and now I want to find out how Barry gets out of this predicament. When's this set? Because nowadays not many people in Britain refer to Australia etc as the colonies.

The idea for this story seems marvellous.

But it falls apart with the opening scene.

Unless Barry speaks with a Received Pronunciation accent – highly unlikely in an Aussie trooper – the moment he opens his mouth the doctor would realise they’ve goofed. A Pom would say “Ai'm Orstraylyan.”

This next, I’m not 100% sure – but I think “Old Blighty” is more a term from the era of The Great War.

I’ll leave it to someone else to nitpick the grammar. It certainly has the makings of something really good when it's fixed up.

Is this the beginning or is it an excerpt from work that has alread been completed? I like dialog in opening scenes but there's no imagery. Where is this guy. How did he get there. Was he doing something else and then suddenly got kidknapped and stuck full of drugs. And did they give him a shot at first or did they give him this concoction orally to begin with. And if that's the case, then he must have been awake. But how its written, it seems like this guy has no idea what has been done to him until the doctor fills him in. At the end, there's a bunch of back story which seems odd, shoe horned in there for the benefit of the reader. I'd like to see this further develop. It seems interesting enough. Good luck. Keep writing.

Snorrie, its an Origin story. Some parts are best left to the reader's imagination. If it was published, not that I ever expect it to be, it would not be the first story gone to print. However, I am useless if I don't write from beginning to end to develop the character. It also seems that you have fallen for the "hook".

Backward Ox, I must disagree. The Australian accent closely resembles the Cockney accent and thus the difference can easily be glossed over. As for "Old blighty", I do like to put some traditional slang and ockerisms through the story but not as much say Paul Hogan would use. I believe it would also depend on his upbringing which is irrelevant to the story. At least for now.

To both you and Rahvin, it is important to picture it in comic book style or at least oriented towards that style. Thus "blighty" and "colonies" offers a distinct character difference.


Oh Snorrie, you are correct, the background information does appear shoehorned in because it is overall an excerpt. After writing the second part, I went back and edited the background in. I believe it fits well when viewed with the second part. I am yet to write the third part, which is of course, Barry's escape.

Finally, Thank you all for your input.

"Hooked me" said the pom, "But..."
Loved the "excerpt" though (and don't quote me I'm crap a grammar) in some instances it seemed to swap between past and present tense within the same paragraph and it seemed there was a minor loss of who was saying what;

"We resequenced your DNA. We pumped out of your body certain proteins that would lead to various ill effects on your health. You don't think we would waste something like this on someone from the colonies do you?"

Barry, however, did not hear this comment as he had lost consciousness.

"Someone from the colonies indeed!" the Doctor sardonically commented as he made his notes.

It's almost like the doctor is slightly schizophrenic.

All said and done; where's the rest?

The Doctor and two army officers hovered over Barry’s bed.

“Wakey wakey, hands off snakey, Private,” the Doctor said.

“That’s Lieutenant, Doctor,” the bigger of two the army officers replied as Barry began to stir.

“I always wanted to say that,” the Doctor replied.

The army officers gave him a look that spoke volumes.

Barry was now awake but exhausted. “What time is it?” He asked.

“0400 soldier,” the junior officer replied. “Time for your morning PT.”

“Dawn is an hour away sir,” was all the reply Barry could muster.

Barry shifted his eyes to the Doctor. “Doc?” He asked looking for any excuse to get some more shut eye.

“This is General Stanley and Colonel Richard. You’re under their command,” the Doctor replied.

“General, Colonel Richards,” Barry nodded.

“No ‘s’ said the Colonel, “Just Richard.”

“Rise and shine, sunshine!” Boomed the Four-Star General becoming impatient.

Barry rose and got dressed and was soon transported in a General Purpose vehicle to Hereford.

Hereford was a strictly regimented military base. The Victorian buildings had well manicured lawns. Security was tight. You could not enter the base without an approved pass and sight recognition by the guards. The General and Colonel accompanied Barry and the Doctor into the command centre of the SAS.

“Soldier, there’s the track,” the General pointed out the training circuit, “We would like to see how fast you can run a mile.”

“Is that all, Sir?” Barry asked being used to doing three and five mile runs with his squad.

“Move Soldier!” The General boomed.

Barry set off down the track and returned in just a little over three minutes.

“Impressive Barry, you almost managed to knock a minute of the four minute mile,” the Doctor said pleased.

Barry was happy with his run but felt that he could have done better but he was pleased with the result. “I feel like I could run that again,” He said.

“You probably could Barry but we have some other tests for you.”

The run had ended at the firing range where the weapons and targets were all ready prepared. The Colonel picked up an MP-10 and nailed the pop-up plates the size of human heads.

Barry went to do the same.

“No Lieutenant, we do not wish to test your target practice skills, your record speaks for itself.” The Colonel said.

“Sorry Sir,” Barry replied.

“Never apologise!” The General commanded. “It is a sign of weakness.”

“Colonel, with all due respect I am not a Lieutenant. We’re all troopers in the SAS.”

“You’re not in the SAS anymore Lieutenant. Now go replace the head plates.” The Colonel instructed.

Barry walked down the firing range and began to gemmy the head plate off. The Colonel took aim with a .45 Beretta and placed all eight shots right down Barry’s spine.

Barry was disturbed by the shots but largely unaffected; he reached around to scratch his back barely noticing anything wrong.

The Colonel replaced the magazine in his Beretta and fired all the rounds off again just as Barry finished installing a new head plate.

“Astonishing!” The General exclaimed.

The General picked up a fresh MP-10 and aimed it squarely at the returning Lieutenants head.

“Sir?!” Barry questioned.

The General took no heed and fired off a three round burst. All direct hits.

Barry slowed but kept coming. He wiped his brow. Was it just him or was it hot?

The General took aim again but the Doctor put his hand across the barrel to lower the weapon.

“Not again General. He may be resilient but he’s not invulnerable.”

“Colonel, General what the hell was that?!” Barry asked clearly upset.

“Buck up, Soldier! You’re still alive.”

The Doctor intervened slightly concerned. “Turn around Barry, lets check your wounds.”

“Wounds? On my back? What the hell? He shot me in the head.” Barry brushed his brow. Three bullets fell. “What the…?”

“Now turn around,” the Doctor said patiently. Barry was in a state of shock and did as he was told. “Nice shooting Colonel. Same result as the frontal lobes.”

The Doctor carefully removed each shell.

“Not even a scratch,” the Doctor clinically noted.

“Barely even a tickle,” the General roared with laughter.

Barry was slowly coming to his senses. “You shot me? You shot me.”

“TENHUT!!” The Colonel commanded.

Barry snapped to attention.

“This is no place for namby-pamby behaviour! You will act like a soldier! Understood?!”

“Yes Sir!” was the automatic reply. It was then that Barry really knew he had to get out of Auld Lang Syne and back to Australia.

“I think that’s enough for today Colonel, General,” The Doctor said. “We best get him back and give him his pills…

Right...so, would I be out of line saying this story needs a new title? Say..."The Hulk in the Jungle?" Or..."The Hulk...On Pills"?

Hmmm...

Um, yes.

Tenses are all over the shop, I think. However I am too lazy to edit it at the moment. The Juices are really flowing.



“Bed rest Barry,” the Nurse said yet again as Barry tried to escape his room. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, only just beginning its descent. Yet, Barry was restless. This was the fifth time Barry had try to escape his room unnoticed.

Barry had been told many times that the side effects of his treatment were unknown. It could only be regulated by the pills he was given.

“Just kill me all ready. I’ve had enough,” Barry retorted as he slunk back into his room. “An SAS trooper that can’t even sneak out of his own room, I’ll be damned.”

Barry lay back up on his bed staring up at the unvarnished ceiling in this pristine military hospital.

How to get out of this mess? Those pills, they seem to make me faster. No not seem, do. Knocking a minute of the four minute mile is no mean feat. I am invulnerable or something close to it. Bullets galore didn’t make a mark on me anywhere. Wait, that doctor said something about that. What was it? Resilient, not invulnerable. Those pills sure aren’t making me any smarter.

The nurse that caught him attempting to leave his room several times walked in. When she walked in you notice. A little blonde thing with legs right up to her bust.

“Barry, I’ve bought you your pills and something to help you rest. Make sure you take them. The General and others will be back later to see you.”

The nurse pranced out. Well that is what it seemed like with her legs. Barry fumbled with his water and pills. Wait a minute! Did she say MY pills? ‘Your pills and something to rest.’ Could one of these pills really be the one that gives me these abilities? Hold on! They gave me a bottle of these things earlier.

Barry began a frantic search of his room. Every minute he would stop and look at the door to see if someone had come to check on him. The nurse seemed to be content that he was confined to his room. Surely someone would come by any minute now with all the noise he was making when he was supposed to be resting.

“Where the hell’d they put them?!”

Barry looked around at the whirlwind of a mess he had made of his room. He just didn’t care. This wasn’t home and this was something that had been done to him without his permission. That’s when Barry spotted the bottle of pills. They were on the windowsill of all places.

Barry quickly compared the pills he were given to the ones in the bottle. Sure enough at least one was the same. He took the DNA enhancement pill and crushed the sleeping pill to dust underfoot.

Barry didn’t feel so restless anymore. He felt pumped.

Barry got dressed into dress uniform and began to plot his escape. He thought about going out the window. No. Too cliché.

He grabbed the bottle of pills and shoved them into his pocket. He was one man, one of the best of the best. However he was up against the rest of the best of the best. He was going to need those pills.

“Eh Nurse!” He shouted. “Can I get a bloody hand in here?”

No one came. Barry peeked into the hall. There was no one in the long corridor, only a single guard at the corner.

Barry didn’t think he’d be any problem. After all he was in dress uniform! Confidently Barry entered the hall. Each stride bringing him closer to the guard. Closer and closer. The guard was looking the other way. Barry rounded the corner.

“Snap to, Soldier!” Barry ordered the guard. The soldier drilled in disciplined did as he was ordered. However it was Barry’s mistake. The blonde Nurse was around the corner and spotted him.

“You get back to bed,” she hunted him making shooing motions. “Don’t think you can fool me in that uniform.”

The guard suddenly alert to the situation made moves to intercept. However, Barry was on the lookout and fended the man off with one blow.

“Sorry mate. You’ll have a headache when you come too.”

Barry continued to advance on the nurse.

“So the pills do work,” she said.

“Well one of them did anyway,” Barry snapped back.

The nurse was playing for time but she was out of options, she turned to shout. Barry grabbed her from behind, covered her mouth and put her in a sleeper hold.

“Light’s out, Nancy.”

"Britain had picked him up for a three month stint but he has been mistaken for one of them."

Does that make it any clearer?

After that, Barry had no problem getting out of the hospital. He was out on the hospital grounds. He knew which way to Hereford after having being there before but he wasn’t anxious to return. He picked a direction and ran.

There was no telling how long Barry had ran for but he had encountered a problem. An ocean of water laid before him.

“Bugger! There’s nothing for it.”

Barry popped another one of his pills and dove in. Barry swam the longest swim he had ever done. Not even his SAS drill instructors were this hard on him. Barry could feel creatures beneath the surface brush against him. He had all his energy concentrated on just swimming - On just reaching land, on being out of god forsaken England.

The sun was beginning to set in the West. From that Barry could determine he was heading south.

“Ouch!” Barry’s head hit a sandbar. He tried to keep swimming to no avail. He finally realised he could stand up and walk ashore.

The beach was crowded. Barry’s uniform was soaked wet right through. He checked his pocket. He still had his pills. He was certainly a sight for the day’s beachgoers. Barry stripped off his jacket and lounged on the sand. There was still a few hours daylight left here. Barry hoped to dry off.

Barry was close enough to dry but could feel that he’s being watched. Whether it was his training or his super-alert senses he didn’t know.

A man with a black beret and an artistically curled moustache approached Barry as he was readying to leave.

“Bonjour, Monsieur.”

Bloody French! “No speak Francais.” Barry did of course, he was multilingual. He had been trained in a few tongues but was a little a preoccupied.

“An Englishman?” the Frenchman asked.

“Yeah mate, something like that.”

“I saw you rise up out of the ocean like a Mer-man.”

“You ought to get those eyes of your tested. May be you’ve ate too many frog legs.”

Barry shrugged his coat back on and shook out the sand. The Frenchman tugged on his coat as evidence to his point.

“I see the arrogance of the English know no bounds,” he said.

“Look mate, I’ve had a rough day. I’m sorry.”

“You are not English. They would never apologise.”

Barry was rummaging through his coat pockets for his pills again. Only to see them half buried in the sand.

Barry reached for them only to have the Frenchman beat him. “Oh I am sorry, are these yours?”

Barry nodded.

“How rude of me I did not introduce myself. I am Pierre De Veaux.” The Frenchman extended his hand.

“Barry Rudd. Now the pills if you wouldn’t mind.”

“If it was not for the uniform I would say you were an Australian backpacker hepped up on pills.”

“I have a condition...”

“May I?” the Frenchman had unscrewed the lid and taken a pill into his hand.

“Be my guest,” Barry replied frustrated.

The Frenchman, Pierre, took the pill and placed the bottle into Barry’s hand.

Barry quickly took a pill himself. “Look mate I’ve got to run.”

The Frenchman was no longer present; he had absconded to convulsing at Barry’s feet.

Barry Ran. He ran into the night. He ran East.

Barry ran past the Eiffel tower. Barry ran past the Brandenburg gate. Barry ran past the leaning tower of Pisa. Barry ran past the Parthenon. Barry sideswiped Gallipoli. Barry dodged bombs in Iraq and Iran. Barry avoided the almost got hit by tank shells in Afghanistan. Barry ran past the Taj Mahal.

Barry dove into the water off India without a second thought. He was heading to Indonesia or Malaysia and knew it. Barry began to sink. His pills were wearing off. Barry had to resist the pressure of the deep. It was dragging him under. The deeper Barry sank the greater his anxiety. Barry struggled for his pills as darkness began to consume him. He struggled out of his coat. His pills, he had to get to his pills. The volume of water weighted his coat down and Barry had no choice but to go down further with it. He wasn’t thinking anyway it was instinct. Barry reached his coat and got tangled in it. It was dragging him down further and further. He had to find the pocket with the pills.

Barry breathed a sigh of relief as his hand grasped the pills. Big mistake! Water washed in unmercifully stealing Barry’s breath. Barry knew what he had to do. He had to get a handful of those pills to his mouth. He had no choice. He struggled with the bottle. With a final twist he got it open. Most of the pills spilled to the ocean’s depth.

“Noooo!” He screamed sending rushing water gargling into his mouth. Barry had caught a few pills in his loose hand and shoved them into his mouth and swallowed them, seawater and all.

Slowly Barry begin to regain concentration but in the dark deep he had to work out which way was up. Fortunately for Barry, the sun had begun to rise and its glimmering reflection lit the surface of the Indian Ocean. Barry slowly made his way to the surface to avoid the bends.

Barry poked his head above the waves and began to wretch. Land was nearby and he made a swim for it.

Sumatra! Barry recognised it from some pictures he had seen long ago. He was nearly home.

“Hope....it......wasn’t......those.....bloody..... ..pills.......I threw up,” he gasped as he sucked in the air. “I’m bloody hungry. Lets see how I do at long jump.”

Barry took a running jump and cleared the Straits of Malacca and another until he landed in Borneo and another and another. Barry headed south out of PNG and bypassed the Kokoda track.

And finally on to home soil. It wasn’t Perth but Far North Queensland was still Australia.

“Boy! Am I glad to be back on home soil,” Barry exclaimed kissing the red ground. “I’m plum tuckered.”