Get married, have a child, get a dog and a big white house.

 

The characters of “On The Road” (a novel written by Jack Kerouac between the years 1948 and 1951) were afraid of growing old and being forced to face reality. They had these crazy adventures just because they didn’t want to stop being young.

  

“The only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing... but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night”

  

This is not the kind of photos I usually post on flickr, but I’ve recently read “On The Road” and I wanted to do something related to it.

  

I’m amazed at the way this novel has changed my viewpoint about life. It has shown me that the important thing is not what is going to happen, but what’s happening right now. We all have to enjoy the moment because that’s the only thing we have for sure. We can make plans and we can imagine our future but we’ll never know what’s going to happen. What’s more, it’s better for us not to think about it, because then we’ll feel disappointed and frustrated.

  

“Sal, we gotta go and never stop going 'till we get there.'

'Where we going, man?'

'I don't know but we gotta go.”

  

“There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.”

January 2020:

 

It’s nearly been a year since the dimensional encounter. Now that I’ve rejoined the Flickr Fighters under various circumstances, there has been the imminent threat I’ve been facing personally:

 

Salient. The same man I was but from another dimension, much more cruel, evil and tainted. I’ve had encounters with him since then.

 

Which leads me to think that I need to strengthen my team—the black ops, which I formed in the last half of 2019, June, precisely, but it never really got any team building since I was still on long vacation till Phorus and the actual Dr Gravestein showed up.

 

Doc: “1 missed call from Jacky. You’ve got a shipment to deliver from Anchorage.”

Multi: “Hold up on that one. Tell him to send it right now—the anti-contagion samples should be here.”

Doc: “I’m at John Hopkins. My research team is available anytime. We’re going to work on the cure for the homeless in no time. Get some break, John. Some sunshine.”

Multi: “I’m worn out from the mission. I need to head back to Advent City in two days.”

Doc: “I can’t accompany you. Ask Viva. She’s your designated AI. And remember to feed the dog. I left some food a week ago.”

Multi: “Alright, thanks man.”

Doc: “I gotta hang up now. You do you. Always welcome.”

 

I sigh, staring at the ceiling after doing my quick morning workout. Life is surely busy since the formation, and since my relocation to Baltimore. Doc got a nice transfer so I guess he’s got an official job for now.

 

My company split, but I still retained some of the employees, as we built a new one again here. Thankfully going to Advent City doesn’t require that long because I’ve got the teleporters working.

 

I wake up two days later, laying on my couch after a hard night’s work, and hanging out with my dog, Sonny and my AI, Viva.

 

Doc: Jon, with the last shipment we’ll be able to help out the last batch of people. Corona is in effect and this is worse than it’s supposed to be. I have no idea how you’re gonna we’re all gonna get through this though…

Multi: “Only one can hope.”

 

***

 

Late April, 2020:

 

Three months later, I’ve been caught up with the third season of Westworld. Our work doesn’t stop like giving cures. Bailey, Doc’s 8 year old niece, was left in my care as I was her godfather. Her mother is a technician, and her job often required last shifts like her brother. Since I was available when needed, I went over to her house for the day.

 

Bailey: Uncle Jon! Can I play with Sonny and video games?

Multi: “Have you finished your work yet?”

Bailey: “Yes!”

Multi: “Okay good, I’m almost done making dinner, you can play if you want.”

 

She starts up her PS4 as I bring the food and chips near the desk. We sit down on the floor as Viva, my AI computer, helps prepare with Sonny’s food.

 

Multi: “What are we playing today? A Lego game?”

Bailey: “Yeah, the complete saga. It’s my favourite!”

Multi: “I knew you liked superhero stuff. Same like me, we’re nerds but your uncle isn’t.”

Bailey: “He doesn’t like it, I know he has powers like you…but what about me?”

Multi: “Have you talked to your mom about it?”

Bailey: “Nah, she’d kill me if she finds out…the girls at school think I’m a weirdo anyways...I don’t have much friends.”

Multi: “Well that’s fair, I don’t have much as well but you gotta take steps to becoming a superhero, right?”

Bailey: “Yup. Uncle Jon, the food was pretty good, are you gonna play as Lando?”

Multi: “Yeah sure I’ll be Lando, but just play around first—I’ll be doing some dishes.”

 

Suddenly my comm rings as the screen shows a live feed of an explosion.

 

Multi: “Viva, take care of Bailey and everything else. There’s a villain in town.”

Viva: “Yes sir, that is noted.”

Bailey: “Stay safe, uncle Jon.”

Multi: “I will.”

 

I get through the backdoor and suit up as quick as possible, before jumping on a nearby roof. My watch scans for evidence, realizing Faceglass is in town for..a rematch?

 

He stands by a gas station, using his shards to blow it up and causing a big fire. I notify Doc about the situation as well as her mother to keep it handy.

 

Multi: “Dodds, you’re really slobbering on your appetizer like that? Why are you even here anyways?”

Faceglass: “Revenge, of course. I just took town a construction building, just for the sake of trying to get approved.”

Multi: “Oh well, that’s your etiquette anyways. I like the makeup though. Looks good on you.”

Faceglass: “I…shut up, Sharp!”

 

He hates the mockery about his face, that’s why. From the facial surgery to our battles, it’s quite never-ending. He came close to injuring me once when he used sand to pierce my body, and that did hella hurt.

 

But he can’t be here for revenge. It’s either for a bank robbery, whatever his narcissistic goals take him, or Salient’s plans. I guess I do need to ask him.

 

Multi: “C’mon Dodds, just explain to me why we’re doing this pointless exchange of glass and energy.”

Faceglass: “Plain old revenge. You know me.”

Multi: “I’m sorry is that every line you use in your job interviews?”

Faceglass: “I…no, no no! Of course not. I go after for handsome people like you, because stalking’s in my blood. Thos workers didn’t agree with my face.”

Multi: “Not the most plausible excuse, honestly. You’ve forgotten the therapy sessions we did a lot together as buddies…”

Faceglass: “I’m after a person who isn’t you, okay?! Not your face, it’s your friend!”

Multi: “The doctor?”

 

He launches a barrel of shards towards me as I generate an energy shield, managing to hold it off as turn invisible, unleashing my left hand’s energy punch and slams him across the road. A woman closely stands but I nod to her scared face as she runs away.

 

Amidst the flames, I walk towards his unconscious body. He seems to be knocked out from the effort but I realize a body emerging. I grab my gun from my pocket, only to see Doc kneeling over Dodds, his eyes in grey as he places his palm on his face.

 

What is even going on?

 

Multi: “Doc? What the heck are you even doing here?”

Doc: “I teleported all the way across. Rene’s back home now, so thanks for that.”

Multi: “How’d you do that anyways?”

Doc: “What do you mean?”

Multi: “Your eyes were white…it’s like you were draining him. Normally you don’t have that power and often you use gadgets or your physician skills.”

Doc: “No idea, Jon. I didn’t drain him like Rogue did, I just touched his face and he knocked out.”

Multi: “The heck?”

Doc: “We’ll talk about this when we get home. I’ve called the authorities…”

 

**Flickr Fighters base, Advent City, New York, 12:16: P.M**

 

Viva: “Sir, it shows no vital signs of Doc’s abilities have gone haywire. Though now it has turned his right arm permanently gray.”

Multi: “Right. I think we should contact Ethereal, no?”

Viva: “That would be a good idea. Perhaps, some meditation first?”

Multi: “In a bit.”

 

I walk down the aisles of the FF’s halls, with Doc behind me.

 

Recur: “Mr Sharp! You’re back! I hope quarantine has been treating you well.”

Flex: “Welcome home again!”

Rift: “We’re glad to see you here again, Multi. And Doc as well.”

 

I am surrounded with questions and greetings as my teammates from the black ops and the main group follow me around, which until it gets to lunchtime, I hang around at the cafeteria until deciding to attend to some…recent matters.

 

Viva says he’s been having an intake of food, so that’s good. Doc’s been experimenting on himself in the labs right after we landed, so I’d be checking on him.

 

Multi: “What’s up with you having those powers anyway?”

Doc: “I don’t know, I did my own self-diagnosis…it’s been going on for weeks.”

Multi: “And you haven’t bothered to tell me while we’re saving the world? Not even to Rene? Or Bailey?”

Doc: “I know my niece is developing something, my sister doesn’t…I thought I hadn’t been in line of passing powers on like her father.”

Multi: “Isn’t he dead? What about your parents?”

Doc: “I did a DNA sweep, there’s no genes in them. I asked Bailey to give a blood sample willingly to test for it. I don’t even know what’s that power but if I had a latent jumpstart, that’s what I’m doing.”

Multi: “So you hide these secrets behind me? I’m not taking credit alone for apprehending Dodds, but your power is unstable, we don’t know. It just looked like you took his life.”

Doc: “I didn’t mean to, okay? Jon, give me a break, I’m working on it, alright? Don’t worry…”

 

***

 

I sigh as I leave the hall and go to my room to meditate. Another session with the energy realm. Ethereal says that Doc’s power was also unknown to her as she couldn’t detect it. She says it might be a healing power, even if I could try to sense his, it won’t work because it’s a different set.

 

Half an hour later I receive a new alert for a mission again, in Prague. Bummer. I run to the assembly hall for the briefing. LC says it’s a black ops thing, so I assemble Sapphire, Rong0, Mystery and Milan for the mission. Doc’s staying out so I ask Viva to keep an eye on him, as well as LC.

 

Multi: “I hope he’s staying safe though, just don’t go building extra security cameras around, Ben.”

LC: “I value everyone’s privacy, of course. But yeah, I’ll let you know if Viva and I find anything.”

Multi: “Alright, see you later.”

 

(To be continued…..)

  

(This issue is also partially dedicated to me and my godmother’s favourite Pomeranian, Sonny, who passed away a month ago on the 10th.)

This past year has been rather eventful, ever since I took Red Dart down.

 

For one thing, I try to visit Thea in prison, when I can. Even if she wants nothing to do with me. Even after everything she's done. Killing my father, almost killing me and Tommy. I can't forgive her for that. But I still make that effort to visit, nonetheless. At the end of the day, she's still my sister. Half-sister, if we're being technical. But we're still related by blood. I must believe that things will change. She's had a rough childhood, being abandoned by my mother and Tommy's dad. She's grown jaded, distrustful of others thanks to how she grew up. Yet another person failed by the current system. Just one more reason why the system is broken. The rich get richer, while those not as fortunate, get fucked over. I finally found out that Edward Fyers was the one that hired her to kill me. Fyers was the head of the snake, as it were. He distributed Tar throughout Star City, especially in the Glades. However, I kept getting in the way... Like I always do! Suffice to say, he's in prison now. I thought, that would be enough to rid the city of Tar. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It was only a matter of time before someone new came onto the scene. Someone by the name of Steelclaw. I haven't had the pleasure of talking with this Steelclaw yet, as they have proven to be rather elusive. A ghost, mostly dealing in proxies.

 

Then there's the pretty bird... We're together now. It was inevitable, with us constantly running into each other. Near death experiences, bringing us together. Almost like it was fate or something. Not that I really believe in such bogus mind you. Remember when I said that me and the florist wouldn't happen? Turns out, I was wrong on that front, too. She and pretty bird are one in the same. Dinah Laurel Lance . I'm an idiot for not realizing it sooner, considering she knew who I was right away. Her father happens to be SCPD officer Quentin Lance, who isn't my biggest fan, as both Oliver Queen and Green Arrow. What are the odds, right?

 

As for the Oliver Queen of it all, well, Tommy's alive. He made a surprisingly quick recovery, after Dinah gave him the cure in time. He still isn't talking to me, though. He needs his time to process everything, which I get, but I kept this secret from him because it was for his own good. To keep him safe from my enemies. But I digress. Mom's well, for the most part. Still grieving like the rest of us, of course, but in a better place than before. After everything, she wants me to see a shrink. But I don't see the value in it. There are just some things, that I'm not ready to talk about. She was surprised to hear about Thea, though. That she was the one to kill dad. She sounds somewhat regretful about abandoning Thea, but there's no way of knowing for certain. Thea's reveal caused quite the scandal for dear ol mom. A secret lovechild, born of an affair to her husband's best friend. Something straight out of a soap opera. The tabloids are eating that shit up. Now when people hear the name Moira Queen, they'll think of the affair first, instead of all the good she's done. Don't get me wrong. I'm not justifying her behavior in the slightest. She fucked up, big time. In more ways than one. And just thinking of it is visually and mentally scarring. It's taken me a while, to truly move past what happened. To find a way to forgive her, for cheating on dad. But one should be thought of as more than their biggest mistake. I've made more than my fair share of mistakes, and mom never loved me any less.

 

My mother told me that Queen Industries new CFO was waiting to meet me in the conference room. It was decided after my father's passing, that Walter Steele, and my mother would be co CEOs of Queen Industries. Since Walter was the previous CFO, we had a vacancy that hadn't been filled, until now. Entering the conference room, I heard a familiar voice.

 

"It's nice to finally meet you, Oliver Queen. The names Cyrus. Cyrus Broderick." The man announced, introducing himself as he turned around. He has a lean build to him, but not in an unhealthy way. In fact, it helps him fill out that black suit of his. Him having short black hair, makes it easy to see his sinister smile. It took a couple of seconds before everything clicked together.

 

Cyrus?? That's not his name. That face, and voice. I'd recognize that accent anywhere.. A blend between French, and Korean.. He's older now, but that's him. Simon Lacroix .. But there's no way it could be Simon... He's dead. Years ago, on Lian Yu. I watched him die! How is this possible?

 

"What's the matter Oliver?" It looks like you've seen a ghost." He asked rhetorically, as he approached me from the other side of the conference room table.

 

"Huh? Oh, sorry. You just remind me of someone I used to know. It's nice to meet you, Cyrus " I replied, trying to recover. Must play along with his charade, as I don't want to cause a scene here. I reached out my hand to shake his. He returns the greeting, giving a firm handshake. Though, it's a little too firm for my liking.

 

"Is that so? Not that I should be too surprised, I do have one of those faces.. At least, so I've been told. I'm glad we have the time now, to talk . After all, you're a hard man to reach."

 

"A problem that comes with the territory, am I right?" I replied, giving a hearty laugh.

 

"Of course! I understand that you're a busy man, Oliver. Keeping up the billionaire playboy façade, must take up a lot of time." He grins, continuing to see what buttons he can push. I see that hasn't changed. What is he doing here, in Star City? What's his endgame? And how did he survive Lian Yu? All questions that I'll find answers to, in time.

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

His voice continues to haunt me, as I chase the Raines brothers. Albrecht, and Winnick Raines. Small-time art thieves that I've run into multiple times this past year. This time, however, they're calling themselves Rainbow Archer, and Dodger, respectively. It's hard for me to take either of them seriously, with Albrecht dressed in his very vibrantly colorful costume. But I guess I'm partially to blame for that. I mean, why else would he have chosen the same gimmick as me, if he wasn't inspired by yours truly? You can't make this shit up! His brother, on the other hand, is at least practical with his costume ! Aside from his long trenchcoat. That seems like a tripping hazard just waiting to happen.

 

"My, my, so fleet footed." Dodger comments as I match the brothers' pace, chasing them through the art gallery.

 

"Ya know Albrecht, I'm flattered that you copied my gimmick and all, but do you really think this'll go any different?" I fire off a bola arrow, but it just narrowly misses the thief.

 

"It's Rainbow Archer now!!!" He yells, shooting an arrow off at me as I chase after him. A red arrow this time. And to no one's surprise, it's a fire arrow. I barely managed to dive out of-the-way in time. The arrow ends up hitting a stone sculpture that's on display.

 

"Of course! How could I ever forget?" I laugh, regaining my footing. After recovering, I gave chase once more. "Wait... Aren't you missing a color in that quiver of yours? No rainbow is complete without green! How can you be a Rainbow Archer, and not have all the colors?"

 

"That's the point, cretin!" Rainbow Archer spits, once again firing an arrow. This time, a violet arrow. I duck, and weave, so the arrow embeds itself into the wall behind me, the acid destroying the portrait that was once there.

 

"Cretin? What is this, the medieval times? Your insults could use some work. Adding it onto the list, along with property damage!! I guess it's a good thing those rich fat cats can afford it."

 

"You're one to talk, Robin Hood! There wouldn't need to be property damage if you just stayed still!" Albrecht growls, firing another arrow. Thankfully, it's just a normal arrow this time. Not that it really matters, as his aim is truly atrocious. Rushing his shot doesn't help.

 

"He's trying to get in your head mate... Don't listen to the bloke." Dodger says with a sigh, before throwing something at me. What's that, a mace? Well, that's new... It hits me square in the chest, sending me across the room. Seconds later, I crash through one of the display tables. Shit, that's going to leave a mark!

 

"Sorry, I can't help it. He's so annoying!" Rainbow Archer replies, now attempting to stay level-headed.

 

"Look at that, you managed to get a hit off this time! I'm impressed!" I laugh, in between coughs, as I try to catch my breath. The mace returns to Dodgers hand, and he starts winding it up again, ready to throw it once more. Drawing and nocking an arrow from my quiver and firing it immediately. The arrow soars through the air, before hitting the hammer straight out of Dodger's hand. The arrow, pinning the hammer to the ground through the looped lanyard he was using to spin it earlier.

 

"Winnick, you always were the smarter brother. But even then, you're still dumb enough to keep trying the same tricks. When will you learn? Just give up, before you embarrass yourselves further." I warn, aiming another arrow at him.

 

He's about to say something when suddenly, my comms unit starts ringing.

 

"Hello?" I answer.

 

"Oliver, we need to talk." Dinah replies, sounding rather serious.

 

"Hey pretty bird, what's up?" Albrecht takes this opportunity to try and fire multiple arrows off at me. I dive for cover behind a wall that's to the right of me. Getting up, Dodger's right there, mace at the ready.

 

"Are you busy?"

 

Dodger overhand swings his mace me.

 

"Hmm? No, not really. Remember the Raines brothers?" I say casually, as I block Dodgers mace with my bow. Unfortunately, the force of the strike is enough to break my bow in half.

 

"He just broke my bow. What an ass." I mutter under my breath, as I grab a normal arrow from my quiver, stabbing his right leg with it. As it turns out, he's a screamer.

 

"Bloody hell! That hurt!"

 

"As it should! I'd be worried if it didn't. You should be happy it wasn't anywhere more vital." Albrecht goes to help his brother, wanting to pull out the arrow. But Winnick quickly glares at his brother and shakes his head.

 

"Don't you dare. That'll make it worse."

 

I respond by throwing an entrapment arrow, pinning Winnick to the ground, and a net arrow afterwards.

 

"They were art thieves, right? They didn't put up much of a fight if I recall correctly." She replies with a laugh, as she remembers the time we kicked their ass.

 

"Yep, that's them. Well, it turns out they escaped prison, and thought they'd push their luck again. Albrecht's calling himself Rainbow Archer now. Even got himself a flashy new costume."

 

"Seriously?"

 

"He's ignoring us! Treating us like we're a joke." Albrecht sneers, rather frustrated, before running towards me, bow raised.

 

"It looks like -- "

 

"You can tell me about that later. Something's happened at Cyberwear.." She says, interrupting me.

 

"That doesn't sound ominous at all." I reply.

 

It's surprisingly easy to multitask, considering hand-to-hand is not Albrecht's expertise. He swings his bow at me, but I'm able to catch it with my left hand, as I smack him in the face with the other elbow.

 

"I need you to be serious here, Oliver." She sighed. Sometimes, I'm surprised at how much of my shit she puts up with. Actually, make that always surprised. Another thing, she would've had Albrecht on his ass by now. Again, not that that's something I'd admit to her face. Got to have some dignity after all.

 

"Okay, okay. What happened?" Albrecht is staggered for a moment, loosening his grip on his bow fully, before coming for my face with another punch. It doesn't take long to block his punch with my right arm, while sweeping his legs out from under him with his own bow using my left hand.

 

Quickly, while he's down, I use a sleeping gas arrow, and a net arrow for good measure. In a matter of seconds, he's out like a light.

 

"Brick sent his crew to Cyberwear, to steal the Hypnos tech. I witnessed a kid, beat the shit out of one of the guards like it was no problem at all. The guard's dead, and the thieves got away. But that's not the worst part."

 

"How is that not the worst part?" I ask.

 

"The kid swears that it was Brick he killed, even though it wasn't. "

 

"I mean, we've encountered metas that can--"

 

"It wasn't shapeshifting. If it was, I would've seen him as Brick too. It felt-- different." Once again, she interrupted me.

 

"Like affected by Tar different?"

 

"Hallucinations are a common side effect... That and there's not much else that would explain him seeing Brick. He was devastated when he stopped hallucinating and realized what he actually did."

 

"Damnit.. Okay, bring him by the cave. I'll come by as soon as I can. Figure out what to do next. Until then, I love you, pretty bird."

 

"Love you too Ollie."

 

With that I end the transmission.

 

---------------------------------------------------

 

Back at Cyberwear, minutes prior.

 

The boy's face was downcast, his eyes continuing to look at the dead body in horror, his gloves covered in blood.

 

"There you are! So, the boyscout has a killer instinct after all... We have more in common than I thought, Red." A girl dressed in green mentions, as she comes from around the corner. Cheshire . I've heard of her. Mostly rumors, of her being one of the deadliest assassins in the world. She's an expert in poisons. Suffice to say, nothing good comes from her.

 

"What? No, I didn't mean to. This isn't what it looks like... It was supposed to be Brick." The boy replies, quickly turning his head to look over at Cheshire. The rest of his body, frozen in place. Still clearly processing everything.

 

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but that's not him. " Cheshire notes, before continuing. "C'mon Red, we gotta go. Rasmus has what we came for."

 

"Sorry, but there's no way that's happening." I warn.

 

"You think you can stop me? Oh, this'll be fun." Cheshire says, drawing her sais.

 

"I've been itching for a fight today. Looks like it's my lucky day." I grin, cracking my knuckles.

 

She opens the fight by throwing one of her sais at me. I'm able to catch it mid-air with my left hand. I hold it in a reverse grip, so the blade is pointed towards the ground.

 

"Impressive. I'll admit, that's a first. No one's caught one of my sais before." She acknowledged, as she lunges towards me, trying to stab me with her other sai.

 

"Clearly. Your reputation wouldn't look good if they had, Cheshire. That, and none of them were me." I parry the strike by raising the sai upwards.

 

The moment I underestimate her, that's the moment this fight is over. I must always keep my guard up. One of Ted's many lessons.

 

"I enjoy a challenge!" She remarks, as she goes for the leg sweep, but I'm able to catch her leg.

 

The fight goes on, with Cheshire mostly using her legs to attack. There's this mutual respect between us, with neither of us holding back. We're each able to land hits on the other. In the end, I'd still give myself the edge in this fight.

 

I manage to disarm her and throw the sai I have off to the side. I work better with my fists than I do sais.

 

I form an x with my arms over my face, only to break it seconds later to Canary Cry. Cheshire crashes against the closed door at the far end of the hallway. It takes a few seconds for her to recover.

 

It wasn't long before I heard an incoming police siren. This causes me to turn around for a second.

 

"Looks like that's my cue.. Like the Cheshire Cat, I'll just disappear. Cya around, Red."

 

By the time I look back, she's gone.

 

Rookie mistake on my end, taking my eyes off her. If Oliver knew, I'd never hear the end of it. Guess that'll have to wait for another day... For now, I'll contact Oliver over comms.

 

"Oliver, we need to talk."

Wow... So this is it, it still feels like a dream seeing a picture with and Ant-Man and review under it! I've been waiting for this movie since I've even heard of this character when Avengers: Earth's Mightiest heroes came out in 2010. It was cool because I knew everyone else on the show like iron Man, Thor, Captain America, and the Hulk, but I've never seen Ant-Man before, a few days later I go into Toys R Us and I find a figure of Yellowjacket that comes with a tiny Ant-Man figure, sadly I lost it because it fell out of my pocket when I was walking somewhere, but at the time it was my favorite toy. After that I wanted the research Ant-Man. I found out that he was a founding Avenger, even before Captain America and there has even been 3 Ant-Men! (Well, technically 4, but mainly 3) Since then I've been fighting the battle for Ant-Man and defending his awesomeness to the public. people would ask for my favorite superhero expecting an Iron Man, Batman, or Spiderman, and then when they'd find out it was Ant-Man, they'd be like "Ant-Man? That sounds lame? All he does is shrink and talk to ants? That sucks!" In eighth grade I actually gave a presentation on Ant-Man, it's weird to think about because that was when all we knew was that it was going to be directed by Edgar Wright and it would come out November 5th, 2015. Yep, It has been a rough five years but now, now is the time for me to claim my glory, claim my dignity with this movie. I'm going to try to write this review as un-biased as possible but if I do get a little biased, you now know. So let's get to the good and the bad. And don't worry, there won't be any spoilers in this review!

 

Good: Guys, I'm going to be completely honest here... this movie's a fucking masterpiece. I had a huge smile on my face the entire time and I had a blast. I have no idea where to start so I'm going to list great things about this film:

*The visual effects were fantastic!!

*This movie was hilarious, I wouldn't say it was like Guardians humor, but more like Anchorman humor, which makes sense because it was written by Adam McCay!

*The character of Luis is probably the funniest character in the whole movie! Definitely going to make a custom of him!

*The Flashbacks of Hank Pym were so cool!

*The relationship between all the characters in the movie were great. Especially between Scott and Hank, and Hope and Hank.

*Yellowjacket was actually a good villain, probably one of my favorites with Ultron and Winter Soldier!

*There was so much fan-service in this movie, I won't go into any details, but it was great!

*Scott Lang as Ant-Man truly feels like a Marvel hero and I could definitely see him work with the likes of Captain America and Iron Man

*So there are two end credits scenes in this film, and I gotta say tat they are the two greatest scenes Marvel has ever put at the end of their films! So stick around 'till the end!

now there's a lot more that I can't think of right down, but I'll probably bring up more in the comments when we discuss!

 

Bad: Now there is only one bad thing and it is the most nit-pickiest thing ever. In the beginning when it shows the Marvel Studios logo, it plays some music that took me out of it, because usually when I see the Marvel Studios logo it plays this theme that's really good and I missed it :(

 

Alright, so here's the final score. so my unbiased side gives it a 10/10, but my biased side wants me to give it a 12/10!!!! This movie's so good it's now my all-time favorite movie in general and it's going to be pretty hard to beat... well, unless an Ant-Man 2 comes out of course! So what did you guys think about it? Let me know so we can discuss, but I'll talk about it tomorrow because I'm bushed right now and I'm going to bed!

=====Blackgate Prison=====

 

*In four hours time one of the bloodiest riots in Blackgate's history is put to rest. In three hours time Drury Walker gives up his chance of freedom. In two hours time Joseph Rigger and Cassandra Cain will enter the prison and encounter several deadly obstacles on their rescue mission. In one hour, The Music Meister will secure Blackgate Prison, releasing its inmates and depowering the meta dampeners. But now Cass and Rigger are lying in wait, formulating their plan of attack, on comms are Kitten and Axel Walker, their Stepmom Miranda and Kitten's boyfriend Tim, unaware of the carnage that is yet to come*

 

Kitten- Okay dokey! We're online! Can you hear me alright?

 

Rigger- Yeah. (unfortunately)

 

Kitten- Eh?

 

Rigger- Nothing

 

Axel- Hey Cass.

 

Cass- *Smiling* Axel.

 

Axel- Rigger treating you ok?

Cass- Yes.

 

Rigger- It was a hoot. Played cards didn't we? Bit of blackjack

 

Cass- Won, Axel!

 

Miranda-... You taught her gambling?

 

Rigger- No. That's the weirdest thing... Suppose it's something her old man must-

 

*Rigger looks over at Cass and stops talking*

 

She's a real natural is all.

 

Well that sounds fun. Wish I could be there.

Kitten- Don't be silly Robbie Poo. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you!

 

Tim- Wow, thanks Kitten.

 

*Kitten makes a high pitched squeel of delight, to the horror of everyone beside her or on the comms*

 

...

 

Axel- So, um Cass, want to see a movie later? My treat obviously. Interested?

 

Kitten- Robbie Poo! Let's go to the funground!

 

Axel- Actually, how about Wonder Tower? Imagine the view!

 

Kitten- Do you think Mister Wayne would let us go to the top of his tower? Soooo romantic!

 

Axel- Yeah, well-

 

Cass- Axel.

 

Axel- Yes?

 

Cass- Play... please?

 

Axel- Oh, of course! Shakespeare right?

 

Cass- *smiling even more* Please.

 

Axel- It's a date!

 

*Axel turns off the comms for a sec, turning to his sister triumphantly*

 

Axel- Boom. That's how you do it

 

Miranda- Axel!

 

Axel- Yeah, yeah. The comms.

 

=====Drury's Cell====

 

Meister- Hey Drury. It's about time.

 

Drury- No. I... I can't do it Meister.

 

Meister- For Pete's sake... Is this about your son?

 

Drury- You weren't there. The hatred in his eyes, the betrayal, the disappointment...

 

Meister- Yes. That's called being a teenager. Although, I suppose that can be forgiven. You've obviously missed a steps along the way.

 

Drury- It's not like that at all!

 

Meister- I'll tell you exactly what it's like- your kid got pissy, as kids are prone to do. It's no reason to get so down in the dumps. Don't forget what's at stake here!

 

Drury- I don't know. *sigh* Maybe... maybe I'm better off here. I'd only hurt them further

 

Meister- That is poor logic. Being in here didn't stop him from denouncing the mantle of Killer Moth, nor did it stop him running away from home

 

Drury- He ran away from home-?!

 

Meister- That's not really the point.

 

Drury- Isn't it?

 

Meister- You're really going to make me spell it out for you? My throat's sore as hell... Still-

 

*To the tune of Be a Man*

 

Meister- Let's get down to business, to

get out of here

Don't you want your family? Just what do you fear?

You're the saddest man I ever met

And you can bet, I've known a few

Walker, I'll make a man out of you

 

You think yourself a chill dude, but you're on fire within,

Once you get a grip again, we'll be sure to win

(He's a spineless, pale pathetic man

And he hasn't got a clue)

Somehow I'll make a man out of you

 

Drury- I'm in too deep to stop

Rigger- Gotta do this for ol' Drury

Ten- Boy, what I would give to one day see the sky

Sionis- This Twag guy, is he deaf?

Camera- This'll turn out awfully tragic

Twag- Oh right now, I'm thinking I might win!

 

Inmates- Be a man

We must be swift as a scarlet speedster

Be a man

We must be bold as the bravest men

Be a man

With all the strength of the Man of Steel

Mysterious as the Amazon princess

 

Meister- Time is racing toward us, till the windows close.

Repayment is an issue, there's still debts I owe

(The man's a fool, but I'll make do

"I'll, go home, when we're all through?")

Drury- Wait wha-

Meister- -I'll make a man out of you

 

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- You must be quick as the emerald archer

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- And as smart as the techno teen

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- With all the wits of the last green martian

As driven as the king under the sea

 

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- (I must be ruthless as Thaal Sinestro)

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- (I must be cruel as Eobard Thawne)

Inmates- Be a man

Meister- With the respect of General Zod,

Gotham City ain't theirs no more, it's mine!

(spoken) So, get a grip.

A Noel In Black.

 

The doors to the homeless shelter shut in ten minutes, but Caleb needed another drink. It was Christmas Eve 1970, and he was wandering the streets of Eureka, California in a tattered and filthy Santa suit, crimson hat perched atop his head, dirty beard pulled down around his neck, a streak of vomit running down his left leg.

 

When the Salvation Army gave him the costume, days ago—how many now? Three? Four?—it had been brand new and shiny clean, but he had gone AWOL as soon as he had begged up enough money for a good drunk. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to get money begging in a Santa Suit during the holidays, especially when people thought they were giving to the Salvation Army. Too bad, he thought, that the racket had to end tonight. Fuck it, he was headed to the nearest bar and had a pocket full of money.

 

Bells on bob-tail ring, making spirits bright. Oh what fun it is to sing a sleighing song tonight.

 

Finally managing to make eye contact with the simian faced bartender who was absent-mindedly pushing a dishtowel up and down a pint glass, Caleb waved a fiver in the air, a wry smile of what the fuck? on his face. Red and green Christmas tree lights flickered over the bottles and mirrors and off in the corner the Ghost of Christmas Past grinned its horrid smile. The bartender nodded acknowledgment and strutted over.

 

“Yeah? Whaddya want?”

 

“Beer and a whiskey.”

 

“What kinda beer? What kinda whiskey?”

 

“The cheapest.”

 

The bartender got him his drinks, took the twenty, and left his change in front of him on the bar.

 

Sipping the bitter medicine, Caleb noticed a woman a few stools down trying to draw his attention, a jet of blue smoke issuing from her cherry-red lips as she raised and lowered her thickly-penciled eyebrows. He could tell she had done her best to look good tonight: lots of eye makeup, newer, hipper-looking clothes, but he could see the age in her face, recognized her need like a bad smell. Battered, needy women gave off a stink of desperation he’d learned to recognize over the years. Those years since he’d been back from the war. He’d had his fair share of these types. Always good for a warm bed and a hot meal, but too crazy to spend any real time with.

 

“Hey there, Santa. Buy a girl a drink?”

 

“Sure thing, honey.” Caleb glanced at the barkeep. “Give the lady what she wants.”

 

She slid down next to him as the grim faced bartender mixed a rum and coke, speared a lime with a tiny sword and dropped it in the glass. “I’ve always had a thing for Santa,” she whispered. “Coming in late at night to punish the naughty and reward the nice.”

 

“Yeah, and what are you, darling? Naughty or nice?”

 

“I’ve always thought I was a little of both.”

 

“Ha. What’s your name, baby?”

 

“Sandra. They call me Sandy around here. But I think of myself as Sandra.”

 

“All right, Sandra. What’s your story?”

 

“Just a local girl, been in the same place too long. What about you, Santa? Don’t you gotta lot of work to do tonight?”

 

Caleb laughed, that deep, reassuring laugh he’d mastered over the years, to put people—women especially—at ease. They talked for a while. Then Caleb ordered a pitcher of beer and a couple more shots and they moved to a corner booth. Sandra talked on and on, chain smoking Salems while he drank his beer and sipped his whiskey, watching as the room began to spin in slow, psychedelic and nauseating circles.

 

“You’re awful quiet.”

 

“I’ve been told that before.”

 

“How’d you get them scars on your neck?”

 

Caleb put his hand to his neck, let it drift down to the dirty fake beard, and pulled the knotted grey and black mess of hair over to cover his throat. And that wicked Ghost of Christmas Past with sunken eyes and yellow teeth whispered, “Tell her.” And so Caleb did.

 

“In the war.”

 

“You were over in ‘Nam, huh?”

 

“Yeah, two tours.”

 

“And then what? You come back to have these damn hippies spiting at you? I feel for you, sweetie. My daddy died in France fighting Nazis. Now my brother is in the Navy while this country goes to shit. You got these bastards like that dirty Abbey Hoffman saying to steal everything. And this Charlie Manson Family killing movie stars.” She laughed, shook her head and sipped her drink. “It’s enough to make you sick.”

 

They grew quiet. “So, you going to tell me about those scars, or what?”

 

“Well, I was a Kootchie Kootie. A tunnel rat. You know what that is?”

 

“Oh, yeah. You were one of those guys that go down in those gook holes?”

 

“Sure was. Infantry. 1st Reconnaissance Squadron.” He sighed, not wanting to get into it, but once he started it was hard to stop. “I was working three clicks west of Duc Pho in the Quang Ngai province. I was down in a tunnel. Just me, my .45 and a flash light. Looking out for booby traps and rats and spiders, and this animal. . . it came out of nowhere. Fucking attacked me. Just latched onto my shoulder and wouldn’t let go.”

 

“Oh, baby. You was attacked by an animal down in one of those tunnels?”

 

“Yeah. But when I killed it, when I shot it . . . ” He couldn’t tell her the rest. He couldn’t tell her how after he had shot that thing, the muzzle blast a blinding light, the report deafening, after he had filled that monster full of holes and watched it drop, it had looked just like a little girl. Just a tiny, raven-haired girl, all shot up and bloody, when moments ago it had been a beast: a mess of lurching fangs and drool.

 

His mouth moved up and down silently. He couldn’t say anything. Then, with an incredible effort, what he had managed to say was, “I think I brought something back with me. I . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

 

“You brought something back with you? You mean like that agent orange stuff, honey?”

 

“No, something different. Something, something. . .”

 

“What? In your head?”

 

He wanted to say, no, something in my blood: I brought back something in my blood that makes me a monster; but instead, he just nodded yes, his face a knot, visibly fighting to not break down in tears.

 

“Oh, baby, oh, baby, I understand.”

 

The room was twirling now at a breakneck speed. He was going to be sick. He pulled away from her and vomited on the floor.

 

“Son of a bitch!” the bartender shouted. “Who’s going to clean that up?”

 

Caleb hung over the edge of the booth, retching and dry heaving.

 

“Fuck you, Sam. He’s a veteran! He fought for this country, got attacked down in one of them gook holes. What the fuck you ever done?”

 

“I don’t care if he was on the beach at Normandy. Get him the fuck out of here!”

 

“You’re a piece of work. A real piece of work, know that, Sam? Where’s your sense of Christmas spirit?”

 

The bartender stomped up to her, eyes bulging, an accusing finger extended. “Get your cheap-whore ass out of here, bitch, and take your Santa Claus friend with you. Got me?” he grabbed her face in his hand and jerked her chin up so that he could look her in the eye. “This bar ain’t no place for you any more, Sandy. You make my customers sick. Everyone who’s wanted to has fucked you, and none of them’s too proud of it either. You'se don’t belong here. Find some other place to haunt, you cheap skank.” With that he tossed her head aside and stormed back behind the bar.

 

We wish you a merry Christmas. We wish you a merry Christmas. We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

 

Sandra walked Caleb back to the motel room she rented by the month, holding him up the whole way while he leaned against her mumbling and pointing to ghosts she could not see. Once they were back at her room she helped him out of his Santa outfit and got him into the tub. In the heat of the steamy water he regained a semblance of consciousness, came back to himself. When he looked up he saw her through the mist, leaning in the doorway, staring at him. She had changed and was now wearing nothing but a silk kimono. He had to admit she didn’t look that bad.

 

“How you feeling, Santa?”

 

“Good. I feel . . .” he paused, unsure what to say, how he actually felt. “Good.”

 

She knelt down beside the tub, ran her finger over the surface of the water. “Thirsty?” she asked, holding up a tumbler of Scotch and water.

 

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

 

Taking the glass into his hands, he took a sip. Handing it back to her she gave him a penetrating stare that he found hard to decipher and then leaned in to kiss him. She tasted of whiskey, cigarettes and peppermint. But it was good, the way she gently ran her tongue over his upper lip before she pulled away, and Caleb felt himself growing aroused.

 

“Now that you’re all cleaned up, why don’t we get you to bed.”

 

“Sounds good, baby.”

 

“Dry yourself off. I’ll be waiting.” With that she disappeared out the door.

 

He got up from the tub and dried himself the best he could with the cheap, tiny towels the motel provided. When he entered the room she was already on the bed, prone on her back and naked. She may have had a butter face but her body was to die for, and she knew how to flaunt it. He started towards her but she held up her hand, palm out toward him, and exclaimed, “Stop right there, mister. The Santa suit. Put it on.”

 

He gave her a questioning half grimace and then smiled. “You serious?”

 

“I told you: I gotta thing for Santa.”

 

Smirking, he pulled on the dirty jacket and set the conical hat atop his head. “Better?”

 

“Oh, yeah, baby. I’ve been so naughty. I need to be punished.”

 

With that she burst out in playful laughter, turned over onto all fours, and stuck her ass into the air, whispering over her shoulder, “Come and get it, Santa.”

 

He approached the bed and, still standing, he pulled himself into her. She let out a deep moan and he began to move, slowly. He was still drunk as hell and the room was spinning slightly but he could feel that primal urge within to rock and rotate. He began to lunge faster, and faster, and then, suddenly, it was happening again.

 

Fuck. No. No. No. It was happening again. He could feel himself beginning to change as he thrust against her. A part of him wanted to run away, to bolt through the door and into the night so that he wouldn’t hurt her. But another part of him wanted this. It felt good. It felt so fucking good to let go and let the animal inside him take over. Still pounding, Sandra moaning beneath him, he watched in wonder as his fingers—tightly gripping her bony hips—became claws and a thick mat of fur began to weave itself up his arms. Thrusting against her with all his might he lifted his face and began to howl as his mouth filled with sharp, gleaming fangs.

 

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane!

 

Margaret Ashton was the manager of the Lone Pine motel. She had been across the street visiting with her daughter and grandson in their two-story, cookie-cutter house, and she was just walking back to the motel office when she heard the screaming in room 308. It was that cheap-tramp Sandy’s room. Margaret had been waiting for an excuse to evict her and marched up to the door, ready to throw her out, Christmas Eve or not. But as she grew closer and heard the urgency to the screams, the gut-wrenching terror of the squeals, she grew hesitant and stopped. Suddenly, without warning, the window shattered, showering her with glass and splintered wood. She fell back and slipped to the ground, watching in utter disbelief as the craziest thing she had ever seen in her life of fifty-six years came tumbling down atop her. It was a wolf. A huge monster of a wolf, with a snarling mouth of fangs dripping blood and drool. And it was wearing a red coat lined in white fur with a Santa cap perched atop its head.

 

From his bedroom window her grandson Tommy watched the entire thing.

 

Later that night homicide detectives would interview the little boy. Tearfully he would relate how he had seen his grandmother ripped to shreds by some kind of beast in a Santa suit. One of the uniformed officers standing idly in the background would then turn to his partner and whisper under his breath, “Looks like grandma got run over by a werewolf, walking home from his house Christmas Eve.”

 

God, the Easter Bunny, and the Ghost of Christmas Present watched as two-year-old Annabelle toddled out the door of her street-level apartment and onto the sidewalk, a thumb stuck in her mouth and dragging a Barbie doll along by the hair. God looked like the guy from the Dos Equis commercials: an incredibly good looking older gentleman with white hair, perfectly coifed, and a nicely trimmed beard, in a tuxedo. The Ghost of Christmas Present looked extremely bored and kept yawning. The Easter Bunny was an out-of-work writer who needed a shave, dressed in a pink bunny outfit.

 

“Cute kid,” the Easter Bunny commented.

 

“I wouldn’t get too attached,” the Ghost of Christmas Present replied, disinterestedly stifling a yawn.

 

Annabelle’s parents were fighting again and they could all hear their voices echoing out from the apartment.

 

“Just how many Quaaludes did you take? You can’t even look at me. Jesus, wake up, bitch, I’m talking to you.”

 

“Fuck off, Henry. You always were a bore.”

 

“You dumb cunt. I oughta slap the stupid right offa your face.”

 

When the wolf came galloping down the middle of the street in its blood soaked Santa suit the Easter Bunny turned to God and said, “You gotta be putting me on, man.”

 

God rolled his eyes.

 

The wolf grabbed the baby in its mouth and threw the child upward into the night sky where she hung suspended in the moonlight for a moment, tiny arms and legs kicking, and then tumbled down, landing on the street with a thud. The beast leapt at her, sinking its fangs into her neck and thrashing its head side to side until the tiny figure ceased to struggle and lay limp in its mouth.

 

“It’s probably for the best,” the Ghost of Christmas Past said.

 

“What? Why?” the Easter Bunny asked, scratching at the stubble on his face.

 

“You want to tell him, God? Or should I?”

 

God gestured with his hands, as if to say, “Go ahead. It’s all you.”

 

“If Annabelle had lived through this night, after being molested by her stepfather and stepbrother, she would have become a heroin addict by fourteen and a prostitute by fifteen. She then would have gotten picked up by a notorious serial killer who after raping her for days would finally kill her by trying to give her a lobotomy with a cordless drill. Her life taken like this, quickly and mercifully, is a blessing, a thing of joy. A Christmas miracle.”

 

“Is this true?” the Easter Bunny asked God.

 

God grinned and nodded.

 

“You don’t say much, do you?” the Easter Bunny asked God.

 

God just shrugged.

 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la.

 

Father Mulligan was cleaning up after midnight mass when he heard the click-clack of claws on the wooden floor. He paused, chalice in one hand, ciborium in the other, and listened.

 

“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing throughout the empty chapel. “Who’s there?”

 

Beneath the pounding of blood in his ears he distinctly heard panting, like that of a large animal. “Hello?”

 

Deep in the dark recess of the hall something stirred, moved, and then came slinking out of the shadows: a large creature walking on all fours, its eyes alight and flickering like yellow flames. The beast came forward slowly down the aisle, Santa hat drooping down one side of its head, a dead baby hung limply in its mouth. The wolf approached the altar and came so close that the priest could smell it, a feral odor of blood and musk. It spit the baby to the floor where it landed with a horrible smack.

 

But the priest didn’t run. He stood his ground, murmuring prayers beneath his breath. He knew why the beast was there, why this spawn of evil had come. It was here to punish him. Punish him for the things he had done to all those little boys. So many. First in Ireland when he had just been doing what had been done to him when he was an altar boy. Then, after coming to America, in Philadelphia, where for years the urban darkness of poverty and city life had let him run rampant. Not yet here in California, where he had been sent quickly by the diocese so as not to cause a scandal. But he had his eyes on a few of the boys in his congregation. Some of the poorer ones who he thought wouldn’t tell.

 

Seeing the monster here was a blessing and death would be a mercy. He fell to his knees, kissed his stole, and lifted his neck to the beast. But instead of taking him by the throat, the beast spun him around by the shoulders so that the priest fell face first to the floor. With one quick jerking motion the monster shredded the priest’s pants and mounted him. The priest cried out in pain and surprise as the wolf forcibly entered him and warm blood began to trickle down his leg.

 

God, the Easter Bunny and the Ghost of Christmas Present stood at the back of the chapel watching. The Easter Bunny had taken off his hood of rabbit ears and was puffing on an e-cigarette and furiously tapping away on an iPad mini. “Been blogging about this whole thing, and, yeah, a lot of people see that as offensive. I mean, what the fuck? You got a werewolf dressed like Santa Claus raping a child molesting priest on Christmas Eve?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Present laughed heartily. “Well, I hate to say I told you so, but . . .”

 

“You got nothing to say about this, God?” the Easter Bunny asked, momentarily looking away from his iPad.

 

God tilted his head to the left, his thin lips bending into a sad frown, and, raising his eyebrows in an, “Oh, well,” manner, shrugged again.

 

Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let Earth receive her king!

 

Gravy Brain Jane was out of her mind on LSD and had nowhere to go. She had a thousand tabs of purple sunshine on her but the connect had never shown and wasn’t answering the phone. Exasperated and befuddled, her vision a swirling cyclone of light and darkness, she stumbled from the Greyhound Station to a small clearing in a copse of woods. She sat leaning against a tree, the branches dripping and melting around her, the sky a miasma of spiraling stars and galaxies. She giggled and mumbled, “No sense makes sense,” to herself.

 

Charlie had sent a message from prison that she should deliver the acid here. If Charlie said it would work out, it would work out. She was sure of that. She had thought the other passengers on the bus would have been startled and scared by the X that Sandy and Squeaky had helped her burn into her forehead with hot bobby pins, but no one had noticed at all.

 

The Easter Bunny, who wasn’t even wearing his rabbit outfit anymore, and was now just dressed in his usual black jeans and t-shirt, was pacing back and forth irritably. He turned to the Ghost of Christmas Present and asked, slightly argumentatively, “Well, where’s God?”

 

“Oh, he couldn’t make it. Had a concert to catch.”

 

“A concert? What are you talking about?”

 

“Well, it was Skynard and you know how he loves Free Bird.”

 

“Typical.”

 

Gravy Brain Jane giggled when she saw the beast slowly creeping towards her. She had been taught to love coyotes when the family was in the desert of Death Valley. Back on the ranch Charlie had taught them to break down the final walls society imposed on them by having them fellate the stray dogs.

 

“Hey there, beautiful,” she said. The wolf just stared at her with its unblinking yellow eyes.

 

From their glimmer and spark she knew just what the creature wanted. It wanted what all men want and she had been taught the ways of a free love society. Giggling she squirmed from her panties and lifted her skirt with a vacant grin. She knew that in love there is no wrong. That submission is a gift and that you should never learn not to love. Charlie had taught her well.

 

She spread her legs, exposing herself, and the beast crept up to her and lowered its snout to her and began to lap at her in quick, greedy, licks. She gripped his ears tight, her head thrown back, and thought about how groovy and sexy it was to be pleasured by the beast, to have death and life so close, to lay your hands upon the monster and be free in love. As she bucked and lurched and felt herself climax she thought about how the Son of Man had taught her that death is only another orgasm, that everything in the universe is in and out and in and out in a cosmic orgy, babies coming out, galaxies sinking into black holes, knives plunging in, blood pouring out. Wow! Talk about the Big Bang!

 

The beast crawled atop her and slipped itself into her. When it shuddered and released itself inside her she knew within her heart that she would be with child. This was a happy moment. A glorious moment in time. Another Christmas miracle. Oh, joyous night. She would name this child Stewart, Stewart Kirby, after her grandfather.

 

Afterwards, the beast lay against her, spent. She stroked its fur with her nails and gently kissed its blood drenched snout. In this way the beast kept the girl warm through the coldest hours of the night.

 

Silent Night. Holy Night. All is calm. All is bright.

 

Free in the moonlight as snow began to fall, bathed in the stink of congealing human blood, the taste of flesh and woman fresh on its lips and tongue, the lycanthrope ran, the stars above him a smear of spilled milk, the moon a cataract eye aglow in malignancy.

 

On the First Day of Christmas my true love gave to me. . .

 

Caleb awoke in the morning naked and freezing, enveloped in the scent of the Douglas fir and redwood. He shivered and looked about. Snow was falling heavily, blanketing the earth in white. Beside him lay his tattered Santa costume, by some miracle the hat still clung to his head.

 

He glanced above the towering tree tops to the shelter of the sky and saw there a light both majestic and bizarre. Seemingly fake, like a bad special effect from a cheap television show. And in that glaring gleam of white, he saw a black figure descend: The Ghost of Christmas Future who spoke in a deep and sultry voice while extending out a hand, “Do you wish to come with me?”

 

In his mind all he could hear was Bing Crosby crooning I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, and a million worlds passed before his eyes. Birthday cakes with only a few candles to blow out. His mother’s smile as she tugged on thread, sewing patches on a Cub Scout sash. Playing catch with his dad who bought him that special glove for little league and would oil it with him in the falling sun of the suburban evening. Watching Kennedy’s skull explode on television, Jackie screeching and trying desperately to crawl away. The Howdy Doodie show. Lee Harvey Oswald grimacing in pain and turning as Ruby put a bullet in his side. That gnarled old apple tree in the backyard, how that ancient tree would fill with tiny white blossoms in the spring so that you could not tell how old and bent it really was, its age hidden in its blooming. How those tiny petals fell in early summer, glistening in the amber light, a shimmering rain of flowers cascading down and lying white as snow on the ground. Sweat streaming down his brow as he pushed a lawnmower, that smell of fresh-cut grass, such a vibrant green it made his head hurt. Behind the baseball dugout with Betty Connors on a warm summer night: his first kiss. How she had moved away soon after and he had never seen her again. His draft card: that plain and innocuous envelope of a pale yellow color that they’d all dreaded and all expected. Telling his father, “Guess I’m going to war, pops.” And his father just nodding back stoically. His gal Sally, with her beehive hairdo, who wouldn’t let him fuck her no matter how hard he begged and pleaded, telling her he didn’t want to go to war a virgin. The ancient apple tree in autumn, loaded with ripe fruit. The bumpy ride over the Pacific in a military transport plane. The Vietnamese whore who spread her legs for a single American dollar. Paddy fields burned and incinerated so that no water stood within them and the rice stalks withered. January 1968. Tet: The New Year, a time to worship ancestors. An intricate barrage of hellfire. Medivac choppers stuffed with bloody men and boys. Fire fights, flares illuminating the night, the thunder of mortars and sparks of muzzle flash. A landscape of smoke and exploding ordinances. Those mornings when the bombers flew in and the ground shook like jelly. Seeing men he knew dancing and screaming in flames. Splintered, broken trees, smoke billowing in the distance. The Pickle Switch and canisters of napalm. VC bodies dressed in black lying in horrible piles. A rifle on the ground with a stream of ammunition dripping out of it. “I dare you to pick up that dead man’s gun.” “Yeah, right.” The tunnels. And the idea of winter, just the concept of it in that hot, hot land where all is hidden from you, taken, and there is nothing to believe in or hope for, but you imagine that tree back home nonetheless, barren and without leaves and fruit, draped in snow and frozen. The way the men whispered when they found a dead body, till all you hear is whispers of body, body, body. Then the beast appears who is really only a little girl. How could you have thought that a little girl was a monster? There was no monster, just a little girl, you made everything else up. But now there is a monster, just as sure as there are ghosts, an Easter Bunny and a God. It’s you. You’re the monster. You’re the beast. And you think to yourself, “What have I done? What did I do?” Then, as you face this ultimate truth, the cold takes you. And when would spring come again? Certainly not in this lifetime, and not on this earth. So, “Yes,” you say to the cold and the winter. To the Ghost of Christmas Future who holds nothing forth but death. “Yes. Take me. Just take me away and let me be free.” An affirmation to end the rest of your negations.

 

And you let go of that aching, awful, agonizing pain of being a man of flesh and blood, the cold slowing down your heart, and give in to death.

 

And as you slip away, into the embrace of the Ghost of Christmas Future, you wonder, “Was it real? Was any of it real at all?”

 

And in the heavens a laughing God finally breaks his silence and answers: “There is no such thing as real. It’s all just a dream within a dream.”

 

Story written by: HumboldtLycanthrope

Even if she was under care, Mason Gardner's failure to guarantee the safety of his sister sent him on a downward spiral further. Plus his family wasn’t enough to be trusted, when most of them only cared about money and luxurious lifestyles. But Yvette mattered to him no matter what, she was his anchor, and so was him to hers. The sibling bond remained strong, to say the least.

 

He had multiple issues with the agency his mentor worked for—-and recently started hitting him hard. With the occurring attacks, Gardner couldn’t stop thinking how the public would question him. The combined weight of everything must have sped up his incurable condition, as so he thought, from the big stress.

 

It all started when a Paladin agent went out on a hunt, daringly, to take down the ES but got captured in the process. Nearly two weeks he endured torture and suffered most before finally breaking his spirit on the third. Then he spilled his guts and was eventually killed. Right in a slaughterhouse in Guatemala.

 

North eventually knew the secrets and used it to his own advantage. Blowing up bases....hitting the list....lots of actions causes dealt a big blow to the agency itself. The board was embarrassed and cut off all ties with many of their allies in case of whistleblowing and being doublecrossed. It would be a PR nightmare, risking their reputation going down a sinkhole.

 

Gardner feared it more every day the feeling came by.

 

***

As the agents silently conversed with one another, the more they went deeper into the compound. Wreckage contained tons of damaged electronics and the floor was muddy with water. Files were spread everywhere. It looked to them as if an abandoned asylum had come to life.

 

Jesse: “So that’s how it started. From that very moment a tip was passed....we should be lucky they never found us.”

Harry: “Nobody knows if there’s trackers around even with our tech. It’s surveillance we’re talking about.”

Gary: “Apparently so.....it killed a couple of my friends already. They did it.”

Jesse: “You tried to save them didn’t you?”

Gary: “Maybe.....maybe the chi could”

Harry: “But it doesn’t work every time.”

Gary: “It may not all the time, but at least it's under my control. Having these powers paved me a new life to improve after I started meditating.”

Jesse: “What if there’s corpses down here? Can you feel the aura throughout?”

Gary: “Maybe....more or less. I need to tap in and see.”

 

Even if flashlights could be used, it wouldn’t fare well in the deep darkness. Then Jesse decided to illuminate the environment up with a spark of electricity, enough to get them through securing the area long enough for Gary to meditate.

 

15 minutes passed as the walked further, and scans didn’t prove much evidence around. It was far beyond destroyed. Nothing but littered by a couple more dead, rotting bodies. Files proved useless.....until Harry discovered something.

 

Harry: “I think this is interesting. This corpse.....looks really familiar. Gary, do a retinal scan for real.”

Gary: “Hmm....I sense no heartbeat. Yet it’s somehow twitching. Unless they’ve got rodents lurking around somewhere.”

Jesse: “Hold on.....you’re telling me this is a reanimated corpse? At least it’s not the lower half.”

Harry: “Nah. Look closely. The uniform has a badge of the ES. I’ll send this to the team.”

Gary: “No. wait. Something’s wrong again. Get behind me. I’ll activate my field.”

 

The three rose their weapons in a defensive position as the ground began to rumble. Right in front it led them to a door. A small one, about the size of the entrapped submarine doors.

 

Harry: “It’s getting darker. Charge up your powers, gentlemen. I’m going to render my invisibility.”

Jesse: “Copy.”

Gary: “Do your thing. I can try opening it.....hmm.”

Harry: “Shh....”

Jesse: “Lowering frequency. Voices down. Team, you seeing this? I hope you do.”

Gary: “There we go....slowly....my dagger should be able to lock-pick it.”

 

And it opened. The sight of bleak darkness opened up to the three agents. They went in one by one, slowly and carefully. Unlike the surrounding outside, the room wasn’t filled with the stench and odours, yet it looked as filthy with grease and rusting machinery. It was a room filled with clean files and a few advanced computer. Harry was the first to dig in, scrapping through the documents while Jesse lightened up the room further as Gary kept his dagger and aura in tow.

 

It took them much time they needed as the images were continuously sent. Then suddenly a flash of a shadow passed by, which Gary witnessed, as his instinct told him to throw a dagger at the wall. The other two looked up in surprise as the unknown shadow started to fire.

 

Jesse: “Take cover! I’ll see if I can fry this bastard.”

Harry: “I got a clean shot. Not sure if the tables do any good cover but ok.”

Gary: “Use the chairs!”

Harry: *keeps firing*: Hold on....I recognise that mask somehow...I can see it. Isn’t that Knifenight?”

Knifenight: *appears* Yes. You guessed correctly. Knifenight is here. Knifenight is here and would be pleased to end you Ghostforge.”

Harry: “The hell is going on?! How’d you get in here?”

Knifenight: “Knifenight survived the onslaught. Knifenight almost drowned but he found a way.”

Jesse: “Ok, lower your weapons for now....you’re telling me you were in this compound? For how long?”

Knifenight: “Knifenight stayed for 3 weeks. Knifenight can survive on his own. Knifenight needs no food nor water.”

Gary: “Ok....I’ve heard about you as well....you might wanna elaborate on that further.”

 

The confused trio stared at their enemy as they waited for answers. He eventually started explaining, as he had gone on a mission to deal with some black market dealers in the currently abandoned base. And then it started flooding. People started drowning, including the Spectres, but Knifenight was the lucky one, managing to get out in time, hiding himself in an abandoned room. Despite limited contact to call his boss/hirer, it went to no avail, so he believed, may have intentionally been on purpose to send him to die, condemned without help. Yet he managed to survive on his own....

 

Jesse: “Ok, I don’t care about your third person act or shit, but I still don’t trust you. You could have laid a trap on us like back then in Tokyo or whatever.”

Harry: “The main question is, why. Did he leave you to die as a sacrificial pawn to get rid of you? Weren’t you always loyal?”

Gary: “The threads in this is too suspicious. You gotta spill because I can see that tongue lying.”

Knifenight: “Ok....ok....Knifenight knows. Knifenight let the cat out of the bag. Because....it was a deal. It went wrong. Knifenight saw them Spectres gun down the dealers. North probably asked them to. I for my life have not witnessed him like this....as brutal and ruthless as he was. And....here, this info might serve critical. Knifenight can only do so many.”

Harry: “Can we trust you with this?”

Knifenight: “Yes. Knifenight is sure. Knifenight isn’t lying. Read more and you’ll see....Knifenight is no longer a part of North’s cabal. So, bye for now.”

 

***

 

Jesse: “And then he runs away. Just like that. Seriously, disappearing again without a trace. Not because we let him go, but just quitting in the most ninja way as possible. However, given our shared history....I really doubt it.”

Harry: “But at what cost....is critical to matter?”

Gary: “Nobody knows, but it somehow proved I can sense the good in them. Their aura. No, I’m not joking. I really can. You should try it someday.”

Jesse: “Y’know what? I’m on the verge of my post breakup with the dude....I could tell you more over green tea. This meditation thing sounds like fun.”

Gary: “Mhmm I could tell you about my ex. He was a great guy as well....”

 

And with that, Harry decided to call his team. They were slowly getting ahead. Maybe a chance to fight back....just maybe.

} Relative to my other stories, this segment takes place earlier in the careers of Clayface and other featured characters. {

 

Hey, my name’s Wally West. I’m one of the, what, nine or so people that’ve been dubbed “The Fastest Man Alive”? … I’d say I’m at least the second fastest, especially when you factor in that some of those guys can only reach top speed on straightaways, I happen to know two of them are doppelgängers, and really, I’d call Savitar more of a sprinter… I, uh, don’t like to get hung up on technicalities.

 

I’m an invaluable member of the Justice League, and not just for my powers. I’ve got a winning personality that neither hardened space-cops nor immortal warriors can resist. Even Batman likes me. Or, “trusts me”… Trusts me enough to protect his city, and that’s saying a lot, for him. He contacted me this morning, explaining that he has business on the other side of the world, something about his ex and a pool turning people into zombies… I don’t think I would’ve gotten the gist of it, even if he’d expounded. He says he’ll make it back by tonight, and if it were anyone else but him (or me, I guess), I wouldn’t have believed them.

 

Being Batman for a few hours doesn’t sound so bad, but the thing is, I’ve got a decent system with the Rogues back in Keystone. They’re good at avoiding collateral damage, usually even-tempered about the “getting arrested” part… Even got Tarpit to take it to an abandoned lot the other week. I’ve heard Gotham has less cordial villains. And more of them. And more than a few citizens that have had their share of false vigilantes running around. Nothing a dashing guy like me can’t work around!

 

0.082 seconds after I stepped boot inside city limits (I was taking it slow until I saw some action), I was in the GCPD precinct to let the commissioner know about the changing of the guard, maybe catch a whiff of a case that could use solving. Turns out you don’t need the Speed Force to find a crime scene in Gotham. The nice officer at the front desk informed me that a break-in had occurred INSIDE the station at dawn.

 

*flash*

 

} GCPD EVIDENCE STORAGE {

 

I probably should’ve thought about how people from around here aren’t used to a red and yellow lightning bolt zipping through buildings. I might not have made the lasting impression of causing the portly detective before me to hurl his styrofoam coffee cup into the air. I caught it too late to save his shirt.

 

Detective: What IS this?!

 

Me (handing the cup back): This is yours. (pointing at his stains) THIS is my dry-cleaning bill, sorry pal. (jerking both thumbs at my chest) And THIS is Gotham’s substitute hero for the day, made with 100% less angst.

 

Detective (glowing crimson): I’m gonna wring the Bat-freak’s neck! What’s he do, take sick days now??

 

Another detective walks in around a shelf. Her uniform is tidy, her hair even more so.

 

Detective #2: Don’t tell me you MISS the Bat now, Bullock.

 

Bullock: If he’s gonna be a nuisance, I’d prefer he be a predictable one. Now he’s phoning up other leotards to come stick their noses in my cases!

 

Me: “Leotards”. I get it.

 

Detective #2 (offering a handshake): Detective Montoya. Batman already got in touch with the commissioner, told us you’d be here before we knew it.

 

Me: That’s my thing. So… don’t take this the wrong way, but how…

 

Montoya: … did we let someone sneak into our evidence room and get away? We’re in the middle of breaking up a gang dispute at the docks AND a massive manhunt for a birthday-obsessed serial killer. The station has been practically vacant, and no one’s had time to fully assess our latest acquisitions.

 

I look over the unsorted items that have halved the room’s capacity, all strewn across tables.

 

Bullock: Hands off. I don’t care if you ARE wearing’ gloves!

 

Me: You don’t have to tell me that… although I could touch everything in here, and if you blinked, you would never know.

 

Bullock’s mouth opens wide enough to ensnare passing birds, but Montoya interjects.

 

Montoya: Cameras were wiped. I know it looks like a mess, but we’ve had a dozen other of our people take inventory, and nothing’s been nicked. Someone came and went without lifting a single thing…

 

Me: … Had the sense to take out the cameras…

 

Bullock (unwrapping a toothpick): … But was sloppy enough to set off the alarm. It’s gotta be some goon screwin’ around with no real plan in mind.

 

Montoya: On top of all that, if they touched anything in here, we’ll never find it against a hundred other fingerprints.

 

Amidst the chaos, a computer monitor and what appears to be a heavily modified hard drive catch my eye.

 

Me: Mhm… What’s the story with this?

 

Bullock (hurriedly): Some guy we nabbed last week; Etienne Guiborg, “The Dealer”. Thinks he’s a real mastermind, but we dismantled his illegal auctioning ring without any fight at all.

 

Montoya: He has his OWN inventory on that computer; thousands of heisted weapons, artifacts, and their locations. Once our schedule lightens up, we’re hunting down every last one. Actually…

 

Me: You need a speed-reader. On it.

 

Bullock: Wait a minute, I’ve seen you in the papers before. Can’t you do that, whatsit called, time-hole thing? Go back a few hours and catch the perp in the act!

 

Me: Do you want to run the risk of my actions causing a ripple in reality that changes this timeline to one where everyone is biologically half-chicken, all on the account of stopping an opportunistic thief?

 

Bullock: …

 

Me: Time travel’s nuts, man.

 

*flash*

 

Me: Hey, anyone else notice this down here?

 

The detectives lean under the desk to where I went to plug in the machine.

 

Me: This outlet has dust all over it, but the lower socket, it’s clean. And what do you know… The Dealer’s extension cord has dust between the tines.

 

Bullock: Sunuva… they DID swipe something!

 

I think it over for 0.053 seconds (I’m sluggish on weekends), then a light bulb switches on.

 

Bullock: Well, are you gonna plug it in? They may have wiped the memory!

 

Me: Don’t touch anything.

 

Bullock: You can’t tell ME not-

 

*flash*

 

*Scotch tape obtained from main office*

 

*flash*

 

I begin tearing tape and sticking every inch of the keyboard’s surface.

 

Montoya: What is he-

 

*flash*

 

Me (thrusting fistfuls of tape towards them): LOOK!

 

Bullock: … Congratulations genius, you managed to get NO fingerprints on even one of ‘em.

 

Montoya: Wait… no fingerprints? But it hasn’t been dusted, not since we busted The Dealer.

 

Me: YEAH!

 

Bullock: Would you care to let us in on whatever harebrained theory you just concocted?

 

Me: No time, but I’ll have your guy in a jiffy.

 

Bullock: “NO TIME”, he says!

 

Me: Uhh, I’m going to need…

 

*flash*

 

Me: (arms loaded with twenty-odd tape dispensers): … all of these. I’ll restock, promise.

 

*flash*

 

Montoya: Under that mask, I’d put money on him being CSI.

 

Bullock: I’d put money on him being a fruitcake.

 

***

 

Thirty intersections later, and I find myself at what I’m hoping is the bad guy’s lair. A middle school, deserted for the summer. Everything’s fitting together.

 

*flash*

 

My entrance, like last time, startles the classroom’s occupant. This time, they drop a neatly-organized box of Crayola. This time, I don’t bother to recover it. Villains don’t deserve neatly-organized boxes of Crayola. I rush forward and slug the surprised criminal in his cylindrical mask. He careens over the desks, and catch him by the collar on the opposite side of the room, before he has an unfriendly run-in with the floor.

 

Me: Alright, pencil-neck, talk to me.

 

Eraser: Hands off the suit! Do you know how much money you have to sink into a cyber-yellow pinstripe suit? Did you even know CYBER-YELLOW was a color?!

 

Me (lowering him): Okay, noted, the suit’s expensive.

 

Eraser: How did you FIND me??

 

Me: Familiarity with GCPD’s layout and security, leaving no evidence behind but still tripping an alarm to show off… Fits your m.o. like a glove. I do my supervillain homework before I go barging into other cities. You couldn’t resist wiping off the keyboard, so I had a hunch you also compulsively cleaned other public property before use… like crosswalk buttons. After some trial and error, and no small amount of tape, I tracked y-

 

Eraser (scoffing): Aaand Batman would have me snitching by now. You’re not so fast.

 

Me: Trust me, you don’t want me to get too Batman on you, or…

 

Eraser (dramatically): You wouldn’t be able to come back from the darkness?

 

Me: I was going to say it might make me physically ill. Speedsters eat way more than the average person every day, and if I vomit, it’ll be one heckuva mess to clean up. One that you probably won’t be able to ignore.

 

Eraser: … That's the flimsiest, most contrived threat; you can’t actually get physically ill from tha-

 

Me (crossing arms): I’ll self-induce it.

 

Eraser: You wouldn’t…

 

Me: Tell me what you saw on Dealer’s database.

 

Eraser: Okay look, some guy I’ve never seen before hired me. Says he knew about Dealer’s confiscated computer, and wanted me to get him inside just for five minutes to look around. It’s not like I cared what he was doing, so I have no idea what he got out of it. But I know what I got out of it: Stencils. The good stuff.

 

Me (gritting teeth): I’m a millisecond away from collecting all the gum under the desks in this place and putting them inside your mask.

 

Eraser: EDWARD BURKE! I heard him whispering “Edward Burke” over and over! I’ve got nothing else!

 

Me: That’s oddly useful. Okay, I’m arresting you now.

 

*flash*

 

} GCPD HOLDING CELLS {

 

Me: I’d appreciate it if you confessed to your crimes, whenever they happen to notice you in here. I’m sort of up against the clock.

 

Eraser: Nothin’. doin’.

 

Me (locking Eraser in): By the way, you made me waste a bunch of these guys’ tape just to find you. Why can’t you Gotham rogues all hang out at a bar, like they do in Keystone?

 

*flash*

 

Eraser: … A supervillain bar… huh.

 

} BURKE INSTITUTE OF ASTRONOMY (formerly Norbet Institute of Astronomy) {

 

I pause for a entire 1.4 seconds to confirm the sign outside, before crashing through the main entrance and finding my way to the development facility. Machinery is scattered across the tiles, beakers bubble uncontrollably… and a man that looks like an astronaut suffering from insomnia is slouched on the floor, rewiring the circuitry running through his suit’s chest-plate.

 

Me: Dr. Edward Burke?

 

Burke: Oh, have you been here long? I’m very sorry, I’ve been preoccupied with my work for…

 

He glances at a wrinkled calendar, halfway lodged in a drawer near his head.

 

Burke: … a solid two weeks now, I suppose. Time management was never my strongest quality.

 

Me: Don’t get me started. Look, I know all about Etienne Guiborg using your laboratory to store his wares, and I think we can resolve this without any violence…

 

Burke (perking up): That name! I heard about him in the newspaper not long ago. Oh, no sir, I’m not involved with any smuggling, I must affirm! No, no more business with supervillains. My old boss Irving Norbet, he was a very bad fellow! Tried to use our technology to rob banks!

 

Me: You’re wearing the suit right now.

 

Burke (toying with small components and dials on the suit): AM I?!? … Ah, so I am. Well, it really has quite fascinating functions; I’m only looking to improve the design, not use it for anything nefarious, absolutely not! Dr. Norbet only did what he did after overexposure to a strange meteor we were analyzing… messed with his head. This was all confirmed by the police!

 

I take a quick survey of the room while he’s rambling, spotting a grey mass perched on a workbench, shrouded in a sort of haze, like it’s giving off energy.

 

Me (scowling): Does this meteor look anything like that one sitting over there, NOT in its container and likely effecting you?

 

Burke: Dear… dear me. Well, this all must look highly suspicious! If you didn’t believe I was innocent, as I’m sure anyone as keen as you would, you might be very confused by the circumstances.

 

Me: Actually I’m… still comprehending the idea that two people in this timeline wanted to use the name “Planet Master”.

 

Then the most embarrassing thing that can happen to a speedster happened; I got ambushed. Enough volts to jumpstart Gotham City shoot through my body, launching me straight through the reinforced wall of Burke’s Institute and into the evening air, leaving me a smoking red heap on freshly-cut grass.

 

… I’d like to take an intermission from my story to clarify that accelerated perception is a superpower that has to be turned on. OKAY? It takes a lot of adrenaline and carbs to activate. I can’t just see EVERYthing in slow-motion. … Moving on.

 

I crane my head and spit out a mouthful of sod, while my eyes adjust to see my attacker stepping through the Flash-shaped hole in the building. He’s dressed in black armor, orbs of electricity wavering in his fists, and grinning like a wild dog. Lester Buchinsky.

 

Electrocutioner: Heh. Friend of mine tipped me off that some hero might come poking around here tonight. Not the one I was hoping for, but murderers can’t be choosers.

 

Me (feeling Speed Force welling up inside me again): Just keep talking there, friend-o, I’ll be with you in a sec.

 

Electrocutioner (unfazed): Overheard you talking to that idiot Burke. You really think our kind would trust our gear with him? Be caught DEAD working with him?

 

Me: Yeah, well, the bar’s set pretty low, Taserface.

 

Electrocutioner: That’s it.

 

Before he can lift his arm to incinerate me, I dart at his midsection, only to once again rebound and land in the planters HARD.

 

Electrocutioner: Like the force-field? I’ve been upgrading. Get this…

 

I roll out of the way of a bolt lobbed from his fist, leaving it to carve a charred path across the lawn.

 

Electrocutioner (admiring the gloves): They’re projectile now.

 

Me: Mama Buchinsky must be proud.

 

I begin running circles around him, as Electrocutioner jerks around to try and draw a bead on me. The faster I punch him, the more the force-field will resist. If I try running at him at a normal pace, his gauntlets will meet their mark before I can land a blow. So… I guess I’ll have to try letting him hit me again.

 

I take a detour to the parking lot, rip the tires and hoods off of two vans, and race back to Electrocutioner before he knows I’m gone. I come to a halt and plant the hoods on either side of me, with the tires wrapped around my torso. Now for the only part of this plan that I know will 100% work…

 

Me: Yo, Shocker!

 

Electrocutioner lets loose a solid flow of electricity from his hand to me, and I brace myself as it races directly at my chest. My suit is a conductive elastomer: Good for streamlining my own charge, but the Speed Force doesn’t play nicely with outside currents. That’s why this guy is even a slight threat to me. Car tires, on the other hand, are great insulators. Or so I’ve heard. I’m really hoping that’s true.

 

Electrocutioner’s assault strikes the tires. I still feel it. A lot. But I force myself to stay put. As I hoped, Electrocutioner only pours on more power when he sees I’m still standing. I have no idea how much juice he has left in those gloves, or if I can outlast them. Just as everything starts turning grey and I feel my knees giving out, the pain stops, and he’s standing with outstretched arms and sputtering gloves, and I’M standing with two car hoods locked in potential difference.

 

Electrocutioner: Wha-?

 

Me: Capacitor. Seriously, you should know what that is.

 

*flash*

 

Electrocutioner collapses with a black eye. I shake out my knuckles and check on Burke, who’s still tinkering away carelessly. Maybe whoever hired Eraser thought to make up Edward Burke a ruse, just to sic Electrocutioner on anyone potentially tracking him. In which case, I was looking at a dead end, unless Electrocutioner wasn’t as dumb as he looked. As I go to interrogate my third supervillain today, I notice something on Electrocutioner’s fingertips and boot soles.

 

Salt. I hadn’t drained his power supply with my capacitor at all; salt was its own dielectric, and enough had accumulated on his weapon to short-circuit the system when Electrocutioner overdid it. The question of why it would be anywhere near his equipment came to me just as quickly as the answer. Salt. The Dealer’s storage space. I knew where I had to look next.

 

*flash*

 

} WAMPUM UNDERGROUND, PENNSYLVANIA (a lively 300+ mile jog from Gotham) {

 

I zip into the mineshaft-turned-warehouse, slowing once I pass into the restricted sections, and all ambient light winks out. I try to muffle the slap of my boots on the expansive floor, but the echo is unstoppable. Rubbing my palms together at just the right speed, I generate a steady flow of Speed Force sparks, enough to brighten a few feet around me. I’m in the right place; old movie props, autographed portraits, film reels stacked to the ceiling…

 

A mannequin with a camera for the head…

 

*flash*

 

Only this time it wasn’t me. Blinding white like I’ve never seen washes over my field of vision, and I stagger backwards, trying to shake it off.

 

Voice #1: Feeling a little EXPOSED?

 

Something damp and heavy envelops why chest and neck, lifting me off the floor. My head is still spinning, and before I think to phase through the restraint, I’m slammed back down. The back of my skull hits a metal shelf, and at once my strength gives out. I lay there stunned, barely picking up on another voice past the ringing in my ears. A choked, slithery sort of voice.

 

Voice #2 (sighing): “The Flash”, is it? No need to fret, in that event; your concussion will clear right up in a few hours, no doubt. You ARE one of those heroes that can heal. Makes for such dull, tensionless action sequences.

 

Me: What… are you looking… for, in here… Clayface?

 

Clayface: Ah, I needn’t introduce myself, how convenient. I see The Batman DOES brief his minions before sending them to their doom.

 

Me (ignoring him): Let me guess… a potter’s wheel? Been… wanting to lose some weight and… make a nice vase at the same time?

 

Voice #1: A regular Bob Hope, this guy.

 

Clayface (ignoring me in turn): You still managed to locate us.

 

Me: What, after you sent me on a goose-chase after Planet Master? Your hired meathead still had some salt on him from when he was, I guess, helping you break into this place? I already knew you were looking for something The Dealer had hidden away… Salt, secret stash…

 

I hear Clayface walking closer.

 

Me: … Salt mines. The moisture is great for preserving all kinds of stuff. I went to the one out in Hutchinson, Kansas for a field trip.

 

His pace stops inches from my face.

 

Clayface: I RIGHTFULLY assumed Eraser would betray me. I had not known he overheard my mention of Edward Burke until he queried me later on, and so I concocted a lie for him to pass on to YOU.

 

Me (the pain in my temple worsening): If you weren’t… looking for Edward Burke after all, then what… did Eraser hear?

 

Clayface: He heard correctly. I am looking for an Edward Burke… Edward C. Burke…

 

There’s a sound of metal clunking into metal; Clayface’s accomplice rummaging through the film reels. One last crash, and a whoop of excitement reverberates through the cavern.

 

Voice #1: Right where the computer said it was, Karlo!

 

Clayface (clasping his grimy palms): Splendid, Mr. Camera! You see, FLASH… Edward C. Burke is portrayed by the great Lon Chaney, in the lost film “London After Midnight”. That is to say, formerly-lost. The Dealer did indeed possess many antiquities.

 

Me: You… tampered with evidence in police custody, hired an… assassin, and broke into this place for a MOVIE?

 

Clayface: I cannot always gratify the wild imaginations of you vigilantes, assuming we supervillains are continuously out for blood, dreaming up blueprints for world domination. A film like this deserves to be in the care of someone who can appreciate it, not lock it away.

 

Me: And “Mr. Camera”; you suckered a C-Lister into… helping you with this insane hobby?

 

Mr. Camera: He’s in it to build a legacy. Me, I’m making a scrapbook.

 

Clayface (amused): You are so deluded, speedster, you think anyone branded a criminal has no allegiances to their own, never without an ulterior motive. Eraser, Electrocutioner, they knew precisely what they were in for. Now look at yourself, bludgeoned like a dumb animal, conveniently in a deep hole to have dirt poured over you… Did The Batman offer you some compensation for this humiliation? Why would he appreciate your reckless heroics when he would gladly sacrifice himself in the same manner, in the “righteous pursuit of evil”, and think nothing of it? … I could smother you right now, but I choose to leave you alive…

 

His footsteps leave in the direction of the mine’s entrance.

 

Clayface: … I do not wish to instigate bad relations with the Rogues. Unlike you noble heroes, I value partnerships. I would not dream of robbing them of their favorite quarry. Let us withdraw, Mr. Camera.

 

Mr. Camera follows him. I feel something light and stiff bounce off my arm. A Polaroid photo.

 

Mr. Camera (sneering): Here. I think I got your good side.

 

I muster the energy for one more sentence.

 

Me: Heroes don’t… need a pat on the back to feel… good about the work they do. You’re right, we hardly ever know what we’re… getting into… aside from our eventual deaths. That’s okay, because… we’re not living for ourselves…

 

The waves of nausea take their toll, and I pass out. Whether or not Clayface was still near enough to hear me, I can’t shake the feeling my words have fallen on deaf ears.

HO. LEE. GOODNESS...

did i SERIOUSLY get another Explore?!?!

ahhhh, quick!

someone pinch me!

i've gotta be dreaming!<33

[and, it went from being #144, to #99! yeee!]

 

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the world is turnin' upside down...

yet, i'm still here; grounded onto nothing.

 

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+2 in comments

oh; and View it Large?

 

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all right.

so, i've been tagged, several times; therefore, i need to just do my facts now; and i'm in the mood.

sooo, here we go.

 

1. my least favorite thing about flickr, is when undeserving photographs get Explores; especially front pages. what the heck?! i'll never understand.

2. my favorite thing about flickr, is going through really good photographers favorite photographs, to get connections to MORE fantastic photographers. i love looking through Explores, too.

3. my guilty pleasure in music, is hip-hop. basically only the following, however: Iyaz(spellcheck?), Jason Derulo, some Beyonce, and Jay Sean. i bet there are a couple others, but barely any. so, go ahead; sue me. i'm a woman of hard-core indie, and i rock it out to some gangsta, every now and then. i should be thoroughly repulsed with myself.

4. one of my favorite feelings/things to do in the world, is wearing tights, a leotard, and my ballet/lyrical shoes; because then, i can dance a million times better, and i just spin and leap everywhere, and feel like a new, better person. i always forget how much i can dance, because i've quit taking lessons; but when i'm in the proper apparel--which is pretty rare, unfortunately--it's just a wonderful sensation. i love dancing so much.

5. there are days when i want to chop my hair in some crazy style, and die it magenta; but i know i'll never do it. i just wish i could have it for like--a week, or so.

6. i'm currently in a stage of being obsessed with hand and arm photographs with glitter, or something of that substance on them.

7. MY BIRTHDAY IS THIS SATURDAY!!!

8. people are beginning to notice the underlining sadness i've been feeling, even when i'm smiling... for example, my 'big brother', David, (who just so happens to be the most observant and deep person you could ever encounter) was looking at me backstage at the 'Aladdin' show. i was just sittin' there, minding my own business, when he just looks at me and asks: "hey--are you all right?" at first, i was sort of caught off-guard and just sort of laughed... then, when i found i couldn't bring myself to say, "yes, i am all right"... i grew serious, and just sort of nodded, in a rather phony manner. he continued to ask me throughout the day if i was sure i was okay. when i asked him why he would ask, anyway, he responded: "i don't know... i'm sorry for asking so many times, but there's just--there's just something missing from your eyes..." and, right he was. and even my friends who aren't that observant are beginning to notice, also. great; so the truth of my depression is coming, even through my smiles. dang... and i thought i was a good actress.

9. my hometown, is now truly turning into my family's, and my own, hell-town. yesterday, on Mother's Day, my mom suddenly just broke down into violent tears because of how frustrated she is about this town. and man, i'd be crying all the time, too, if i was a crying person. my mom isn't even a crying person though, and she was CRYING. it's ALWAYS windy here, it's freezing, it's bi-polar, it's boring, it's small, it's dry, and there's always constant drama brewing up, simply because there's nothing else to amuse ourselves with, due to the small-town-ness. and, those are only a few, short amount of things that are horrible about it here. we are so unbelievably stoked to leave here in a year and a half, it's not even funny. sure, Nevada, you were a great place to grow up with; but now, we're all grown up, and we are leaving you.

man. i feel like i'm saying a lecture that i'm supposed to say to my parents, when i move out of the house.

10. one of my biggest worries in life, is to become cold and bitter, toward practically everything in life. and dude... it certainly is starting to seem that way...

When J took me to get a pilot's license, I thought it was a stupid waste of time. He flies a helicopter for one, not an airplane. Today though, I've gotta thank him for it. At least now I sorta know what I'm doing. This thing is massively outdated. Still, I found the throttle and pushed it as hard as I could, no idea if J was behind me or not. As I'm going down the runway, there's nothing but explosions and fire on all sides. The Jet feels like it's gonna rip itself apart before it even lifts off. I see the light at end and start pulling up. While I'm doing this I'm closing me eyes, pretty much expecting the worst. After a good 5 seconds I open my eyes and I just start screaming out of joy. We made it! Nothing but blue arctic skies now! For a bit I was too busy enjoying the fact I was alive, then I remembered J. Shit, I can't see out the back of this thing. He must've made it out, he was right behind me! I let the throttle go for a bit so the jet slows down. Give him a chance to catch up. For a few minutes I'm looking everywhere, starting to fear the worse the longer I don't see him. Just as I though I was the only survivor, J goes from the right and gets into formation. I breathed a sigh of relief. We're going home together. After a minute of calming down I noticed what looked like an old two-way radio. Maybe I can talk to J with this. Would make landing easier. I mess around with it, trying to pick up a signal. I keep calling him name through the mic piece, or whatever it's called, until...

 

"Linda?..."

 

"J! Oh thank God, these thigns work... we made it! We're going home."

 

"Yeah. We are..."

 

"....Anne was pretty good friend, wasn't she?"

 

"......"

 

"I'm really sorry, J. She at least went down fighting. And we got out, like she'd want."

 

"......"

 

"Above all, we won, J. We killed what was left of the Nazis, and discovered that some old WWII legends were true! We'll....never get to tell anyone, but still!"

 

"......."

 

J's taking Anne's death pretty hard. I don't wanna see him like this, though. I should do something to make him a little happy, but what?......

 

".....J? Hey, J?"

 

"...yeah?"

 

"We're in fighter jets, y'know."

 

"...what about it?"

 

"It makes me think of a song. A song you really like."

 

"What are you--oh for...just no, Linda..."

 

"I know you really like it, J. You always work out to it. C'mon, let's sing it! You like singing!"

 

"Linda, no--"

 

"Revvin' up your engine, listen to her howlin' roar... Metal under tension, beggin' you to touch and go..."

 

"Please just--"

 

"Highway to the danger zone!! Right into the danger zone!!

 

"Seriously, I--"

 

"Headin' into twilight, spreadin' out her wings tonight... She got you jumpin' off the deck, and shovin' into overdrive!..."

 

"........"

 

"Highway to the danger zone!! Gonna take you right into the danger zone!!"

 

"........"

 

"What the next part, J?"

 

"........"

 

"C'mon, you know the words! I don't wanna sing this by myself, J..."

 

"........"

 

"You can do it J, C'mon, be happy. For me?...."

 

".......You'll never say hello to you until you get it on the red line overload!!! You'll never know what you can do until you get it up AS HIGH AS YOU CAN GOOOOO!!!!"

 

There's the J I know...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Edited by Steven Stone

 

We’ve all heard it, people have been waiting for Wonder Woman to get her own feature film for all of their lives. And if this film’s expectations aren’t high enough, for most, this film could make or break their trust in the DCEU after this franchise’s mixed reception in past films. Now I loved Man of Steel and BvS Ultimate Edition, but Suicide Squad didn’t really do it for me, so I wasn’t going into this film too worried. So is Wonder Woman a film to help DC get back on track, or just another divisive movie that will be argued about for years to come? Let’s check it out!

 

Good: My biggest worry about this movie was if the “girl power” message would be too much movie. I mean, I still recovering from my concussion after watching a few episodes of Supergirl having having that message beaten over my head. Thankfully I can say that this movie is a very empowering movie for women, but not too much to make people angry. I saw this movie with my mom and sister and they were over the moon when we got out of the theater, and to be honest, so was I! I thought this movie was spectacular. It truly felt like I was watching Richard Donner’s Superman for the first time in theaters, which makes sense because director Patty Jenkins credited that movie as a huge inspiration. Speaking of Patty Jenkins, can she just direct all the DC movies please? She just gets the tone that I’ve grown to love DC with by watching the animated series when I was younger. This movie was just so bright, hopeful, and godlike. My favorite thing about DC universe as a whole, and why I like it more than the Marvel universe, is that it’s a story about gods among men and how they really guide us into the light (yadda yadda Jor-El speech, you know where I’m going with this). Anyways, the reasons why I love this movie so much is very similar to why I love Man of Steel so much. It’s about a god, who doesn’t know their limits, trying to find their place in society. The only difference is Wonder Woman takes a more innocent turn on this storyline, which really builds upon the character of Diana Prince. Diana’s innocence in this movie creates humor, drama, and inspiration in the film. Which really surprised me because all of this was coming from Gal Gadot. Now after this movie, I am on the Gal Gadot hype train. I was a little nervous when she was cast as Wonder Woman and I didn’t really get enough in BvS to truly see if she can handle playing one of the most iconic heroes ever. Needless to say, Gal Gadot really impressed me in this movie. Her comedic timing was on point, her anger and confusion was believable, and she overall fleshed out her character, which in the end, elevated the movie to a whole new level. Now Gal Gadot isn’t the only star of this movie, Chris Pine as Steve Trevor was great too. I’m going to say this now, if there’s ever going to be some sort of young Indiana Jones movie, it’s gotta be Chris Pine. All I saw in this movie was a young Harrison Ford as Steve Trevor in this movie! This film is probably the second best film I’ve seen Chris Pine in behind Hell or High Water, because him as Steve Trevor totally amazed me. Like Gal Gadot, he added just the right levels of comedy and drama into this movie to have me walking out of this movie really remembering him. I went into this movie asking for Wonder Woman’s movie, and what I got was Wonder Woman’s movie, but with a surprisingly incredible second lead. This overall enhanced Steve and Diana’s romance in this movie, which I can only compare to Lois and Clark’s romance in the first Superman movie. The rest of the cast in this movie was good, Wonder Woman kinda had her own Howling Commandos which I enjoyed and the Amazons were great. In one moment in the movie, we get to see some Amazon warriors train, and I’ve never seen anything like it, it was so badass! Alright that’s enough about the cast, this review is long enough, let’s get to the action! There is one action scene in this movie, the one in the trailers where Wonder Woman is in no man’s land, which I believe will be held as one of the most iconic superhero movie moment of all time. Never before has a whole action scene given me goosebumps throughout its entire duration. Sure there are moments in superhero movies that have given me goosebumps like whenever The Chain plays in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, but I’ve never been so taken back by a superhero kicking some major ass! I could go on and on about how much I loved this movie, this is probably my longest review! I’ll end the good by saying this: the soundtrack, like most DC films, is godlike and I will be listening to it as much as I do the Man of Steel and BvS ones.

 

Bad: I gotta be honest with you guys, I was never a big fan of Themiskyra in the comics. I never liked whenever Wonder Woman went back to Themiskyra in the JLA animated series and in this film, I just found it boring. Don’t get me wrong, the concept of it is badass, I just found myself waiting for Steve Trevor to crash his plane. Maybe it’s because after watching JLA the animated series, the Wonder Woman animated movie, and the countless comics, I was kinda over watching Diana argue with the other amazons about who she is and things like that. I totally understand why people like the first act of this film, but I was really going into this movie for Wonder Woman get involved with World War I. My second and final complaint with this movie was the villains. The villains, Ludendorff and Dr. Poison, seemed to me like the basic MCU villains, which is fine because it puts more focus on Wonder Woman, but they’re still pretty mediocre given DC good reputation for villains.

 

Overall, Wonder Woman was everything I wanted to be and more. Never before have I left a movie with so much hope and optimism about our world, but then to have that all ruined by merely checking Twitter. I have a feeling I will remember my first time seeing Wonder Woman for a long time. For these reasons, I’m giving Wonder Woman a 9/10. It's not a perfect movie, but it's a damn good one. I'd say it’s just short of Man of Steel and BvS Ultimate Edition in my opinion, but it’s easily one of the greatest comicbook films I’ve ever seen! If you've seen Wonder Woman, let me know what you thought about it in the comments below! And if you haven't I implore you to go out and see it. You vote with your ticket, and if you want more diversity both behind and infront of the camera, show Hollywood execs that these kinds of movies work!

 

Mason Gardner stumbled across his desk. He had just received unstable thoughts while drifting off at the meeting. To avoid such an embarrassing moment, he made up the best excuse possible. Maybe, it really was.

 

He quickly contacted his only friend at this current moment—-only possible in the washroom, like how he tried to call Sam, was the exact same tactic that spies did. Sociably the best way of contact......as they spoke.

 

And Edens’ image came flickering on. He decided to give his mentor’s team his own mission:

 

File retrieving.

 

And that’s how the slew of investigative missions started.

 

***

Nightfall. Tokyo, way past midnight:

 

Ghostforge raised his pistol at the monitor towards him, having heard the sounds which taunted and challenged him. Then Harry pulled the trigger at the mainframe, aimed with two bullets. He realised it was still talking, like how the unconscious body that Knifenight was.

 

Slightly annoyed, he waited and walked through the wires, which he felt....slippery. The visor had showed him the sight of water and wire alike, connected to the giant machines surrounding him.

 

Unknown voice: ”Had enough yet? I still have more to come. Admit your defeat, ghost. I would be more than happy to see your downfall.”

Harry: ”You talk too much. Maybe focus on your own weakness before planning your next move. My friend, about a while ago, decoded what was supposed to be here.”

Voice: ”It isn’t finished. You lack the expertise of a programmer. Insufficient.”

Harry: ”And what if I had already stole it from your pocket when you weren’t looking?”

Voice: ”Hahahahahah......no.....there isn’t. Too late, agent. You will never discover the secret of the powers! I could even bring forth reanimated corpses to life!”

Harry: ”Bullsh*t. You oughta know A.I.s talk better than this. Meet my friends who did the work first.

 

With the quick snap of his thumbs, the lights came on. Standing around the shadows were the assembled team of Avalon Squad. Despite the grizzled and injured looks, Blades drawn, guns loaded. Their stances were more than ready.

 

Voice: ”Impossible....I sent more Yakuza after your leader! How could they not have killed him?!

Tyrone: ”Not if I’ve been contacted by the ally button and a quick blood transfusion. Even without the blood, I can heal fast.”

Sam: ”With the apple from the doctor. Give it up, Everest. You know you won’t win.”

Erin: ”That was a good show, thanks to my holographic disks. And you gotta take credit, Nightedge, Sabershift and Dusksmoke as well.”

Voice: Imbeciles! Take them down now.... Protocol is activated.

 

And with the other half of the room’s lights coming to life, a bunch of armoured ninjas, clad in the same black yet silver with their swords, readied the own positions. The team looked at each other and grinned—-eyes glaring with the elements of their abilities, with the glaring energy, shadows, electricity, smoke...activated.

 

Like a spectacle of things dancing around the room, they fought, bathed under the multitude of colours...

 

***

(5 hours later)

 

Edens looked up at the council. Raze was not pleased with the current “mischievous” acts he and his team had committed. The whole committee did look stern

 

Edens: ”I see you summoned me again, Madame. Trust is the most concern, isn’t it?”

Raze: ”For your behaviour shown, it is unacceptable. These people need discipline and proper training. They don’t even know how to take orders. When I say a mission gets cancelled, it gets cancelled.”

Edens: ”Not without the proper protocol and permits....you didn't manage to override it yet, madam.”

Raze: ”Are you refusing my commands, Edens?!”

Edens: ”I’d rather be thinking of the bigger situation than be sitting here and discussing my actions like politics. The time the command done could have been so much better.”

 

With his message, it took the board long enough to have their mutual discussion, as a chair popped up behind Edens. He grabbed a seat as the robot offered him a cup of coffee, silently listening. He blinked and through his eyes, Gardner nodded to him.

 

The mission....was truly a success. They had won Tokyo. Doors behind the doctor burst open, alerting the guards who were battle ready, raising their rifles. A bunch of smoky, battered looking group of 5 people appeared. It was Avalon Squad.

 

Tyrone: ”Wait up before you judge, and spare us a minute.”

Jesse: ”Sorry to interrupt the party, but it took us more than enough. I said two days, when investigation took us one week. We’re right on time, not due yet behind schedule.”

Sam: ”We promised the files. North has lost his partial conquest to gain access to so much things. We should let Mason Gardner do the explaining.”

 

***

 

Gardner (hologram): ”It is my well-being that I sent this team on their mission to redemption. I, under full intent, knew that they had guilt and regret over a previous mission. And so they accepted this offer. To me, it was personal as well. But they foresaw the bigger thing coming, because North is dangerous. Let’s say my days are limited....and I needed my friends who I could trust on a fight, a crusade. What you’re seeing are the evidence of multiple files containing the powers of everyone on earth. We might have the labs, but....”

Edens: ”Not enough to surprise them. Multiple setbacks. Which is why I approved as well. I spent 5 hours wasted talking with you—-the superior board, while I could have used it to spend more quality time on researching. And helping others.”

Erin: ”Because of the mainframe, an A.I. set up by North, called E.V.E.R.E.S.T. It was designed to trap us in case we found out the locations....”

Tyrone: ”Provoked by the Yakuzas, which a quarter of them were mentally controlled....and we fought Everest’s own ninjas in the server room as well. Anything to say left goes through the box. You guys approving this now?”

 

The committee looked at each other again. Raze’s face glittered with signs of anger and embarrassment. It was like the halftime basketball game where the coach had the explaining to do. And the coach was exactly Edens, who put a smile on his face. Gardner simply nodded his head and explained the remaining details to board.

 

Moments later the team went into celebration, having their reputation rebuilt on the foundation they had started around the agency.

 

Edens: ”Commencement, squad? Whatcha guys feeling ”

Ty: ”Yeah, it’s dope doc....am I glad everyone did so much of the good work. It’s painful , but I guess that’s what agents are for eh?”

Erin: ”Couldn’t have been said better, agent boy.”

Ty: ”You did a fine job as well, shadow-hackergirl. Just like old times.”

Erin: *knocks Ty’s elbow playfully* ”Hey...! I mean....yeah, that was my name in elementary for being such a nerd.”

Ty: ”Wasn’t there an award for that? Most gorgeous, hottest hacker of the year?”

Jesse: ”I thought your dad said that was true, Erin. Wasn’t it? Haha.....how about a chat over coffee about high school experiences?”

 

And then Jesse did the same thing, knocking Sam’s elbow and grinning at Harry as well. He held a very sly smirk.

 

Sam: “J....you gotta be....no.”

Jesse: ”I smell more than just coffee, right, Harry?”

Harry: ”I almost lost it after the just like old times part. Can someone remind me in Greek instead?”

Edens: ”Very much like the old times. Way to go team. So, I have this new assignment on the status in Texas. Recon military mission. Who’s with me?”

 

*dead silence*

 

Edens: ”Over coffee, and beer, and dinner’s on me. Say yes, please? Guys?”

Everyone: ”Hell yeah!

Edens: ”And here we go.....”

 

****

 

(Sometime after the Tokyo incident, 3 days later, Hokkaido:)

 

Dusksmoke wandered around the remains of the base. His footsteps had led him here thanks to destroying EVEREST and his robot cohorts. Preoccupied with discovering the mysterious sources that had led him here, his ear buzzed. The holographic image of the businessman known as Mason Gardner appeared.

 

Dusksmoke: ”Just as I expected. I know who they are now....”

Gardner: ”Before you ask, I’m not here to offer money, not anything. They’re having their victory. They deserved it. It’s always good to establish friendships.”

Dusksmoke: ”At least I kept him safe and sound, so that’s good for now. The white ninja and the talkative one named Knifenight are jailed. By the way, how are you doing?”

Gardner: ”Feeling fine, temporarily. I’m still having these nightmares. I don’t know how long can I even stay alive....maybe a year. That’s what Edens said. They’re working on a cure.”

Dusksmoke: ”Good to know. We may not know each other, but you have gained my respect for this....you gotta stay strong. Health comes first. Whatever will come, will come.”

Gardner: ”Maybe, I will. But then again, missions are important. I still need to fight against them. And him--North. Only with the big plans we’ve got, it’s basically a game of chess....and a game of gambling death. I need Paladin as a long running partnership.”

 

(1 week later. Canberra, Australia, deep sea base:)

 

The hurried sounds of the man ran past the hallway. He had a knack for tripping the expensive antiques over. But this time he didn’t. He managed to stumble upon the room in front of him, made from rich gold. And he knocked.

 

Man: ”Come in, soldier.”

Soldier: ”Status update, Mr. North. Are you willing to hear it?”

North: ”Report.”

Soldier: ”The event the enemy agency caused in Tokyo...has dealt sizeable damages to our plans. We’ve lost more than a quarter of planning, of resources...they’ve won this time. It is like inching one step closer to a open war to be engaged.”

North: ”And my good....henchmen? My loyal and faithful servants?”

Soldier: ”They could be freed, eventually. Maybe, more or less. We always can have the army prepared, reactivating the Exiled Spectres. They haven’t been used in the last 2 months. So what is your move, sir? Shall I carry the orders out?”

Mr North: *turns chair around, revealing the armoured, creepy look* “Yes, do it as usual. Proceed with what it’s supposed to be done. The breakout will commence at the prison, as the usual drill. My niece would be more than happy do to so, since she is in this room as well. We may have failed....but we still have other plans for our friends over there......this time, it will be the game of checkers. A game to gamble life....and I will control destiny as I can shape it when I want it to be.”

Soldier: ”Order is heard, my lord. Ship boating, now?”

North: ”Yes.”

Thawne's words are still playing in the back of my mind as I race out of that prison, making my way towards the one place that has exactly what I need. The Cosmic Treadmill! Left at Star Labs of all places. Not really sure why though, as Barry never worked with them as the Flash. Anyways, I need the treadmill, as it helps us speedsters time travel better. Meaning, that we end up in the right place at the right time. After all, we wouldn't want to end up in a future where the Earth's radioactive or anything. Sorry, not really in the dystopian mood right now. It isn't long before I'm back at Star Labs, finding the room with the treadmill soon after. Next stop, the 30th Century! More specifically, Central City!

 

---------------------------

"I'm back!" I say with a laugh, as I speed through the bustling streets of Central City, weaving through the oncoming traffic. Anti-Gravity is a big part of the 30th century tech. It's helped to prevent billions of crashes each year, so I'm glad to see me showing up in the past hasn't changed that. Besides, hover vehicles are just so much cooler anyway! Oh, there's the Renegades out on patrol! Nice! Taking down some Purifiers. It isn't long though, before I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look beside me, and it's yet another speedster. Though I don't recognize them. Black suit, with light blue accents throughout, with a helmet covering their face. Looks especially badass though!

 

"You're under arrest, for unregistered use of the Speed Force. Surrender now!" Its voice commands, as it continues to chase me through the city.

 

"Sorry, no can do! Kind of busy at the moment, trying to get answers! Catch me if ya can!" I taunt, sticking my tongue out, before going even faster. But the bounty hunter is in tight pursuit, not letting up in the slightest.

 

"President Thawne's not gonna be happy about this." I somehow manage to hear them talking, through their mumbling. I abruptly stop at the mention of his name.

 

"Thawne, president? Aha, you're joking, right? Right?" I ask, shuddering at the thought.

 

"No.. Why would I be?" The figure responds deadpan, with no change in tone.

 

"Well that's just great.." I groan. The speedster pulls out a device, which I recognize as a DNA holo scanner. Can instantly tell you within a matter of seconds who the person is.

 

"Bartholomew Henry Allen II.. Wait.. What? Bart, that's you?" Their tone shifts, to being more excited. They're almost cheering.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about! I'm the Flash!" I say, vibrating my voice, to sound differently.

 

"Sure you are cuz. I really should've figured it out sooner." Sure enough, as the speedster removes their helmet, I instantly recognize them. My cousin, Jenni Ognats. Also known as the Legionnaire XS.

 

"Jenni?! Woah, okay, that's a plot twist I wasn't expecting. What's going on here? I thought you were with the Legion? XS.." I look at her, completely baffled at the newfound changes.

 

"Legion? XS? Since when was I a legionnaire? Are you okay Bart? Cause the only other name I've ever gone by is Pursuit. I know you've been gone for a while, but you should know this.." She replies, looking rather concerned for me.

 

"Huh? Yeah, just fine. So crash, nothing to worry about." Besides me completely changing the timeline, and now a Thawne's president, along with Jenni being some sort of bounty hunter! Just what everyone wants!

 

"So why didn't you come back sooner? Your mom was worried sick. We expected a couple of hours, maybe a day at most. But it's been years. What have you been doing?" She prods, her voice almost trailing off.

 

"I couldn't help myself Jenni! Getting to see both Flashes in their prime? Who would dare miss something as awesome as that? Just too crash! I couldn't let that go so soon.. I've started to build a life there. I've got friends there!" I blurt out, as I can't help myself from smiling ear to ear.

 

"But you don't belong in the 21st century.. I know you don't want to hear this Bart, but this is your time.. You have family and friends here too. Can't discount it just for a chance to play hero. Besides, you risk changing the timeline by going back." There it is once again.. Jenni was always one to follow the rules.

 

"Lil late for that.." I mutter to myself.

 

"What was that?"

 

"Nothing Jenni. Nothing at all. Anyways, I gotta go. Wally West's been captured by Inertia, and I need to find some answers. Have you heard that name before? Inertia, that is."

 

"Inertia? Never heard of them.." She remarks.

 

"Really? Dangit. What about Thaddeus Thawne II?"

 

"Well President Thawne is Thaddeus Thawne. So it's probably best if you start there. Guess it's a good thing I have to bring you to him. Who knows, maybe he'll give you the answers you need." She explains.

 

"Guess I may as well.. Don't have any other leads to go off of after all." I say as I follow Jenni through Central City, towards a spiraling tower, in the center of the city. Yup, that sounds about right. Thawne's have quite the ego. Looks like I'll be talking to another Thawne today after all.

===Crazy Quilt's===

 

Situated in the middle of Gotham's Fashion District, Paul Dekker's nightclub was host to a wide range of degenerate activities. The main dance floor was lit by a gaudy array of high-intensity strobe lights; seizure inducing shades of reds, blues and yellows bore down on the partying clientele. The Misfits, were treated to the best seats in the house; a balcony on the second floor that served as a sort of observation deck for the debauchery below. Wearing his best brown suit, Reardon worried he was a tad overdressed for the night ahead. The gang had been sorted into two smaller groups; the "grown-ups:" Gar, Chuck, Bridget, Ten and Kuttler, and the "boys:" Mayo, Joey, Blake and Sharpe, with both factions seated at separate, but close by, tables.

 

While the rest of the party looked through their menus, Kuttler refused to touch his until he had first put on a pair of thin surgical gloves.

 

"Sorry, is there a prostate exam we're keeping you from?" Gar glared at him, massaging his left temple with his hand.

 

Kuttler ignored him. "Siracha, Tabasco, jalepenos..." he read aloud the toppings of the house specialty; something that was dubbed "Crazy Fries."

 

"Oh, yeah," Joey turned his chair around. "Those are meant to be really good."

 

"Well, I have a sensitive stomach. And though it may be preferable to... this, I'd still rather not spend the rest of the evening on the toilet."

 

Arriving at perhaps the absolute worst time, a waitress appeared suddenly at Kuttler's side. “Are you folks ready to order?” she asked.

 

“Think so, yeah. Can we just have some sides for now?” Chuck asked, folding up his menu.

 

“Sure thing, honey," she beamed back.

 

Kuttler raised his forefinger to interrupt her. "Question: Do you have non-Crazy Fries?”

 

“If it’s not on the menu, we don’t sell 'em," the waitress answered.

 

“But you have normal fries. You must do, in order to “crazify” them," Kuttler countered.

 

“But we don’t sell them.”

 

Kuttler sighed, slumping down in his seat. “Two baskets of Crazy Fries it is then.”

 

At the other table, a pale woman in rabbit ears, stockings and a thong, slapped Blake's shoulder playfully. “C’mon, big boy, catch me if you can!” she teased.

 

With great self-restraint on his part, Blake resisted the urge to make an innuendo of his own, and swallowed. “Ma’am, pretty sure that if I chase you, the only thing I’ll be catching is an STD.”

 

The playful smile vanished from the woman's face, a scornful expression appearing in its place. "Jerk!" she hissed, hopping away towards the exit.

 

As she left, Mayo's eyes followed her "tail" in confusion. Joey nudged his side to get his attention, and shook his head.

 

“Proud of you man,” Sharpe patted his friend on the back.

 

“Stiiiiiiill kinda sexist, Tom," Joey observed.

 

“What’re you talking about? I turned down that prostitute!” Blake laughed back.

 

“Yeah, that wasn’t a prostitute, that was White Rabbit.”

 

...

 

Blake’s face fell. “White Rabbit? Jaina Hudson? That White Rabbit? Daughter of a Bollywood actress and a Gotham Socialite, turned to philanthropy and then to crime? Confusing motivations and even more confusing origins? That-"

 

“Yes, and for god’s sake, stop talking,” Kuttler turned around to shush them.

 

Sharpe shrugged. “That doesn’t track. Isn’t she, y’know-" he started, then stopped himself abruptly.

 

Joey sighed. “You can say it.”

 

“Not white?”

 

“It’s one of her powers,” Kuttler stated.

 

“She- She has white powers?” Mayo scratched his head.

 

Kuttler frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t quite call it that, no," he murmured.

 

"She was DTF and I just told her to GTFO..." Blake moaned regretfully.

 

“Hey. You were probably thinking of March Harriett. She’s a prostitute," Sharpe assured Blake.

 

At a nearby table, a man in a tan blazer was peaking over the top of his menu, glaring at the Misfits with contempt. “Do they have to yell everything?” Paul Strobe growled to his partner.

 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Don’t let them spoil our evening,” Ned Creegan advised, running his hand across Strobe's back. He was wearing a cream-coloured woollen jumper over his distinctive red and black containment suit.

 

“I’m calm. I’m calm! I might fry Catman’s balls later, but that aside, I’m pretty fucking calm," Strobe complained.

 

“Eh. I hear he kinda likes that. Really likes that. Enough that it’s mentioned in his Find a Foe profile.”

 

“Uh huh. And why were you on Find a Foe, exactly?” Strobe snapped back.

 

“Reviewing my options," Creegan replied.

 

Strobe didn't laugh.

 

“I’m joking! C’mon, I’m clearly- Neutron wanted help setting up a profile. Things didn’t work out so well with his last girlfriend. He... well, he blew her up.”

 

“Christ... Metas date metas, why does no one get that? Keeps everyone happy, and for the most part, alive. That’s really just common sense.”

 

While staring out across the room, Joey noticed the duo, and pointed them out to the group. “Hey, isn’t that Bag o’ Bones over there?”

 

Sharpe snorted.

 

“What?” Joey raised an eyebrow.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Just... Talk about a skeleton in the closet.”

 

“They’re looking at us," Strobe hissed.

 

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Just... smile and wave,” Creegan suggested, as he held Strobe's hand, in an attempt to soothe him.

 

“Smile and wave, are we the Penguins of Madagascar now?”

 

~-~

 

Once his sorrows had been successfully drowned, Blake slammed his glass onto the table. “Let’s hit the dance floor!” he shouted (much to Strobe's chagrin) and he staggered downstairs, tripping twice on the way down. The group looked at him cautiously, then followed after him. Hours passed and the Misfits got drunker still:

 

“And I call... I call this one the Catusi!” Blake confided in Joey, strutting back and forth with underserved confidence.

 

“You do NOT!” Joey giggled back. "You do NOT!"

 

“-So you have the mustard mash, and of course... The Ketchup Squirt!” At this, Mayo jumped on the floor, performing a perfect split.

 

Sharpe's lip twitched. “You’re a fucking legend.”

 

Meanwhile, Dekker approached the second table, addressing them in a singsong voice. Bridget avoided eye contact. "Gentlemen, lady, can I get you any more refreshments? Something stronger, hmm?" he winked suggestively.

 

"Oh, uh, Coke, please," Ten said politely.

 

Dekker smiled knowingly, then on cue, tossed a small bag of white powder onto the table.

 

Ten pursed his lips together. "I meant Cola."

 

Dekker's pale eyes darted across the table, then he snatched the baggie back and stuffed it up his sleeve.

 

=GCPD==

 

Chuck was standing by the admissions desk, waiting to receive his visitor pass. He was dressed in a beige suit, a pale blue shirt and a red and white striped tie. He was also hungover. Beside him, the radio on the desk blared: "You're listening to Sage Advice, with me, Vic Sage. Our next caller, is Michael from Bella Riviera, Louisiana. Mike, you're on with us now."

 

"Answer me this you faceless fuck, why don't you respond to any of my texts?"

 

"Brown, was it?" the desk sergeant asked, bringing Chuck back down to earth.

 

"Hell yea- Yes. Yeah, that's me," Chuck nodded, hanging the lanyard around his neck.

 

The sergeant pointed towards a narrow hallway on Chuck's left. "He's right past the holding cells. Wait for Detective Bullock, he's got the key. Oh, and try not to get lost."

 

"Got it," Chuck nodded, biting his lip to prevent another 'Hell Yeah' from slipping out.

 

He followed the sergeant's directions, walking towards the holding cells. He hesitated for a moment as he lingered outside Day’s. Julian was pale, (paler than usual that is) and was rocking back and forth on his bed, muttering the words “He said I was special,” over and over. No luck there, then.

 

The occupant in the opposite cell cleared his throat. “You won’t get anything out of him, he’s been replaying hits from The Exorcist all bloody week...”

 

Abner Krill was sitting on his bed too, but was much more relaxed. His hands were resting behind his head, and he had an amused smile on his face. “It is you, right? Kite-Man? The senpai to Jules’ yandere?"

 

"I don't know what either of those words mean."

 

Krill sneered, hopping down from his bed. "You lucky bugger. Didn’t really recognise ya without that piss-yellow ‘football’ helmet... Impressive stuff. The Royal, that is. Thought he’d never stop monologuing."

 

"Then I’ll direct my questions to you. When did Joker conta-"

 

“Uh uh,” Krill wagged his finger in Chuck's face. “First, you gotta do something for me-“

 

Chuck rolled his eyes. “If you think I’m getting you your belt, you’re out of your mind.”

 

“Who said anything about my belt? Listen, there’s a vending machine in the bullpen. Get me a packet of M&Ms, and then we’ll talk.”

 

“M&Ms?” Chuck's brow furrowed.

 

Krill leaned back. “Yah, I’ve got hypoglycemia, I’ve been making do with fruit cups and cheese sandwiches. Oh, and make sure you get chocolate, not peanuts. Higher sugar content.”

 

As Krill spoke, Chuck’s eyes were drawn to the cell on the Polka Dot Man’s right. A grey-haired man was pacing around his narrow confines, like a caged tiger. Every so often, the man would stop suddenly, if only to kick, punch or scream at the wall. Chuck had never actually seen Ted Carson without a mask, but the flash of his blue eyes told him everything he needed to know. The fourth cell, opposite him, was empty.

 

Chuck sighed, then dragged himself over to the vending machine. Chocolate, not peanut. He frowned at the prices; he knew for a fact they were cheaper at the grocers next door, but he didn't have a lot of options. He inserted the coins, retrieved the chocolate from the tray below and lastly, tossed the sweets through the bars of Krill's cell.

 

Krill wolfed down the candy hungrily, smacking his lips once he was done.

 

"Finished?" Chuck spoke. “What do you know about Joker?”

 

Krill’s face scrunched up, as though he was trying hard to remember, and then he finally answered: “Green hair, green eyes, pale skin, possibly bulimic.”

 

Chuck sighed again.

 

Krill chuckled. “C’mon, be real. Batman’s been here every night for the last week; If he couldn’t make me talk, what chance does the Kite-Man have? Thanks for the chocolate. Come back any time,” he waved Chuck off with chocolate covered fingers.

 

As Chuck was bemoaning the loss of the two dollars he'd donated in service of Krill's lunch, a hand took a hold of his shoulder. He turned around and was met with a man he had never seen before: he was a cop, a huge bear of a man even by GCPD standards, with scarred knuckles and a thick black beard. He leaned over, and spoke in a deep Boston accent: "Kite-Man? You have a minute?"

 

~-~

 

The lock clicked behind him. The cop had brought Chuck into a disused office, his, Chuck had to assume.

 

The cop lowered the blinds, then brought Chuck away from the door, and away from prying eyes. Something in the cop had changed; Chuck didn't catch on immediately, but then it hit him: the accent was gone.

 

"I know you're investigating Joker," the officer spoke.

 

Chuck was taken aback. "How? How could you possibly-"

 

Oh.

 

Chuck recognised that voice. Fake beard, stolen uniform, and extensive make-up aside, he knew that voice. That deep, authoritative tone that had lectured him a thousand times. The Batman's.

 

"I need you to stop. You know Walker. He has a fight or flight response, it’s instinctive; like a reflex. If he thinks he’s in danger-“

 

“But he is in danger, that’s the point-“

 

“If he thinks he's in danger-" Batman repeated. "He’s bound to do something irresponsible, reckless or self destructive.”

 

"I can't- I mean-" Chuck ran his hands through his hair. “Who else knows?” he asked.

 

"My people. Black Spider."

 

“Eric? Eric knows? Now, wait, what about Psycho Pirate? What about Zoom?"

 

“The Commissioner is aware of the situation. He’s doubled security around the lock-up. And I have people posted outside. But that will all be for nothing if Walker resolves to take Joker down himself, do you understand?"

 

"I-"

 

"Brown, I need to hear you say it."

 

A steely expression appeared on Chuck's face, as he released the latch on the door. "That uniform suits you," he stated coldly. He tensed up for a moment, bracing for a punch that never came.

 

He looked back over his shoulder, and frowned: Batman had vanished

 

~-~

 

Harvey Bullock’s key turned in the lock. He took a step forward and waggled an invasive flabby finger in Chuck’s face. “You got five minutes. We got an “UP” situation downtown," he warned.

 

“UP situation?” Chuck queried.

 

“Your pal Colonel Blimp’s got hostages at the Merchant’s Bank. And a hundred balloons tied to the roof.”

 

“He’s not my pal-“ Chuck sighed, but recognising that there was no point in arguing, walked past Bullock into the cramped room ahead. A small table was in the centre of the room, with two chairs on either side. A single stubbled occupant was handcuffed to one of the chairs.

 

“Hey, Drury. How are you holding up?” Chuck asked the man as he sat down at the opposite end of the table.

 

Drury, scratched his hairy cheek. His hair was lighter now, as it reverted to its’ natural orange colour, although now, his temples were on the verge of turning grey. “It ain’t so bad,” he answered. “The cops had their Christmas party the other day.”

 

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

 

“It was. Bullock brought me a piece a’ cake.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. He smooshed it into my face," Drury smiled meekly. "How about you, Chuck? How're you doing? How’re the boys?”

 

“Good. Great, honestly. We were actually out clubbing last night. Nothing fancy, but... it gave them something to do, y'know? Dekker’s treat, if you can believe that.”

 

Drury smirked. “Yeah, ok, I’d like to never hear those words together again please. ‘Dekker’s treats’ sounds like slang for rohypnol.”

 

Chuck smiled politely back.

 

"And Gar? I heard about that Franco shit... God. He and Jenna alright? Keeping their noses clean, I hope?"

 

"Yeah. Yeah, he's doing ok, I think."

 

"Good," Drury nodded. "Cause, I'd sure hate to think all this was for nothing," he grinned.

 

Chuck didn't laugh.

 

"Hey," Drury paused, his smile vanishing. "You alright?"

 

Chuck paused: he hated lying, but especially to Drury. After everything they’d been through and after everything he'd suffered. He swallowed, and a fake smile replaced his previously remorseful expression. “It's nothing.”

 

==S.T.A.R. Labs. Chicago Branch==

 

"Lunch!" The young intern entered the laboratory, laden with food. With the way the room suddenly exploded with excitement, you would think they had discovered a new element. A metal, cylindrical drum stood in the center of the room, held behind glass, having been donated by the Gotham City branch.

 

"Gimme gimme," one of the female scientists strutted over, grabbing their coffee and panini.

 

"Tell me you got my Gutbuster, kid," a portly man asked, rolling across the room on his spiny chair.

 

"You didn't..." a grey-haired co-worker sighed, as he grabbed his salad from the intern.

 

"Aw, let me have this, Greg," the portly man pleaded.

 

"Sorry, what's a Gutbuster?" another of his colleagues raised an eyebrow.

 

"Big Belly's finest, or worst, depending who you ask, Molly," Greg, the grey-haired scientist, explained.

 

"Only the single greatest burger this side of the continent," the heavy-set man declared as he peeled back the wrapper. "And, banned in 30 states."

 

"Well, c'mon, Larry, what's so special about this thing?" Molly asked.

 

"Three beef patties, four onion rings, six rashers of bacons, five cheese slices, all of it drizzled in gravy, and! And! Served in a deep fried brioche bun."

 

"Well, that's your five-a-day

sorted," Greg smirked.

 

"Jeez, you're sounding like a spokesperson," another scientist sipped her coffee.

 

"Hey, Kate, if they were paying me in Gutbusters, I'd hand in my two weeks right now. I'm telling you, when folks talk about the American Dream, this is what they mean!"

 

"The American Nightmare maybe. Vile," Kate shrugged.

 

"Hey, kid? Mattie? Some free advice; you looking to live until 30, never step inside another Big Belly Burger," Greg advised the intern.

 

Larry didn't mind. He'd been waiting weeks for this burger, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him from enjoying it. And just he took a big squelchy, greasy bite of it... he choked.

 

"Larry?" Kate paused. "Lar?!"

 

The burger fell to the floor, its' diabetic toppings sliding off the patty. Larry clutched his chest, gasping for breath and then... a gloved hand ripped through his torso. Larry hit the ground with a lifeless thud.

 

Molly screamed. Kate rushed to Larry's side, but it was too late. She looked up, tears in her eyes, and then she saw it: a man in yellow.

 

The figure raised its' forearm, now glistening red with blood. A single distorted word escaped its' mouth: "Gutbusssssssssterrrrrrr."

 

An icy blast shot through the air, freezing the wall the monster had been standing in front of moment before. Greg, was holding a pink cold gun, one of the weapons their Central City branch had left them.

 

"I know what you are, you piece of shit! You're a speedster! We've got a catalogue of weapons in the basement tailor made for scum like you!"

 

"Scuuuuuuuuuuum like meeeeeeeeeeee?" a voice whispered. Greg's whole body shook, he couldn't tell where it had gone, but he knew it was still in the room. It had to be. A flash of yellow lightning vanished behind one of the office cubicles. There.

He raised the cold gun again and pulled the trigger. Only this time, the beam shot backwards. The blast encased his head in ice and as his brain began to freeze; he slipped backwards, he hit the floor and his skull broke apart into frozen chunks. The monster, had turned the gun around in the milliseconds after Greg had fired.

 

Mattie stepped towards the exit, pounding his fists against the metal door: They were locked in. They were locked in, and they were going to die. He hadn't even told Molly how he fel-

 

Two bloody hands took a hold of Mattie's head, and squeezed. The pressure built and built, it felt like his head was going to explode. And then it did. His skull burst open, the contents splattering across the door. His body, slid down the metal surface with a loud squeak.

 

"Molly, you need to get out of here," Kate begged.

 

"I can't- it's... It's locked us in-" she blubbed.

 

"I'll distract it, just-"

 

Kate's words were cut off by the cracking of her neck. Her body fell at Molly's feet.

 

The monster stepped forward, its red eyes staring curiously at the one survivor.

 

"Please don't-" Molly slid backwards, tears in her eyes. "Please, take whatever you want!"

 

A noise like a bee's buzzing exited the monster's mouth. Molly couldn't work out was it was doing at first, then she realised. It was shushing her. "You seeeeeeeee this massacre? You seeeeee these bodies? These corpses? Your colleagues, your friends killedbeforetheir tiiiiiiiiiiiime? Husbandsand wiiiiiiiiiiiiives. Mothersand faaaaaaaaaaathers. Sonsanddaughters. Peoplewhoare never cominghoooooooome. Remember it. Hold ontothis memooooooooory. Hold ontothe traaaaaaaaagedy."

 

It placed its' bloody hand on her shoulder and she flinched. "Itcanonly make you stroooooonger."

 

Molly closed her eyes, whimpering in fear: she could hear the breaking of glass; the whirring of the doors unlocking. When she finally opened her eyes, the monster was gone. And with it, the Cloudburst.

 

==GCPD==

 

Drury returned to his cell that night. Moonlight crept through the bars from outside, shining into his eyes as he tried to sleep. Just as he had finally settled, a voice called out to him from across the hall.

 

"Do you... Remember that other timeline? The one Bridget made?" the voice asked, not bothering to check if he was awake first.

 

The question caught Drury off guard. It was the first time Carson had said a word to him since they'd been arrested.

 

"Just flashes," Drury sat up, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. "Odd images, faces I don't recognise, places I've never been to. The smell of... burning." As he spoke, an involuntary tear ran down his cheek. He didn't know why.

 

Carson swallowed. “Huh. 'Cause I do. I remember Charaxes using my suffering to goad my daughter into creating the alternate reality he'd use to make his escape. I remember my hand on the wheel, as I sought to take control of my 'Mothpoint' counterpart. And I remember you. As insufferable then as you are now. So, don’t you think you’re forgiven. That anything is forgiven. Soon as I’m free from these bars, you’re dead. You’re fucking dead.”

 

Drury rolled his eyes, and turned over in his bed.

 

"And then there's the name," Carson continued to goad him. "Why 'Killer' Moth?"

 

Drury didn't reply.

 

"You coulda called yourself anything. Been anyone... But it seems to me like you made your bed all those years ago. You'll always be scum."

  

===Two Months From Now==

 

"I'd like to go back to something you said in our last session. Why do you distrust therapists?"

 

Gar sighed heavily, and tapped his cigarette into the ashtray below him. "Well, it's a con, isn't it? Exploitive. Haven't met a single therapist that wasn't pulling some kind of strings behind the scenes.

 

"You're referring to Hugo Strange," the therapist noted, as she scrawled something into her notepad.

 

"Strange," Gar spoke, his voice full of disdain. "Strange experimented on my best friend's brother. He was a kid at the time. Then he put together a supermax prison whose goal was to bury the prisoners under eight feet of debris."

 

"Speaking of Mr Walker-" the therapist began.

 

"Nah, nah," Gar waved his hand dismissive. "You're not tripping me over like that."

 

"What's discussed here remains between the two of us."

 

"We're not talking about Drury," Gar warned.

 

"Very well," the therapist relented. "How about your job, or is that another off-limits topic?"

 

Gar slid down the chair. "Job's a job," he muttered.

 

"But you enjoy it?"

 

"Sure," he admitted. "I mean, I'm good at it. Very good."

 

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

First established as a legitimate business founded by Roman Sionis' grandfather, Janus Cosmetics quickly became a front for the Sionis family's drug trade, partnering with the Falcone and Maroni crime families in the secret production and distribution of illegal narcotics.

In that regard, Janus' annual holiday party was no different: Though the odd shareholder was invited for the sake of appearances, most of the Black Mask's guests were actually mobsters, super-criminals and sociopaths like himself: Iron-Hat Ferris, The White Mask, The Great White Shark- even Mayor Cobblepot had snagged an invite (although he had wisely, and politely, declined). The Misfits, his hired muscle for the evening, were scattered throughout the 40 storey hotel, relying information back and forth through the small headsets attached to their ears.

 

"Alright, Misfits, report in," Sionis ordered.

 

"Mayo and Kuttler. Lobby secure," Calculator spoke: he had established his base of operations on the ground floor, surrounded by security cameras, computers and several haphazardly placed, incomplete gizmos that he was working on. Beside him, The Condiment King took a glug of champagne, swirled it around in his mouth, and disgusted, dribbled it back into the glass.

 

"Brown and Flannegan. West balcony secure," Kite-Man announced. Just as he finished checking his binoculars, Chuck thought he spotted a black clad figure positioned on the neighbouring building. As he looked back however, the figure was gone. Writing it off as his imagination, he turned back to Ratcatcher, who had already fallen fast asleep on the patio furniture.

 

"Rigger and Sharpe. East balcony secure," Firebug confirmed, as he watched Chancer take a plate of hors d'oeuvres from a nearby server, and stuff him face full with them.

 

"Reardon and Blake. Penthouse secure," The Ten-Eyed Man checked in: He and Catman were both posted outside Sionis' own office, a position he was more than fine with, although Blake was disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to mingle with any of the beautiful heiresses downstairs.

 

"Walker and Lynns. East ballroom secure," Killer Moth finished, adjusting his tie. "Doesn't feel right, though, we should be wearing our costumes for this," Drury confessed to a distracted Firefly.

 

"You heard Sionis. Better this than dressing as a 'bad Eurovision Act,'" Lynns replied.

 

"I like it! We're like... The Reservoir Bugs," Rigger smirked. "Although," he scratched his shirt collar, "I am starting to sweat a little."

 

"Yeah, why did you do that?" Sharpe inquired, his mouth full of miniature quiches.

 

"Well, I didn't want to have to run to the car to change," he stated. "How do those Superman serials make it look so easy?"

 

"Nah, you three are the only ones with bug related names. Unless you count Eric," Chuck suggested.

 

"No, he doesn't count. Spiders, are arachnids," Kuttler disapproved.

 

"That, and all the Dogs died in that movie. It's like calling your boat the Titanic. Or your dog Old Yeller."

 

"Fuck you, I haven't seen that yet," Blake snapped.

 

Reardon tilted his head to one side. "Blake. Were you ever going to?"

 

"Well, Philip, I guess we'll never know."

 

"Just get me my Holiday Killer," an exasperated Sionis commented.

 

"Calendar," Chuck muttered under his breath.

 

"What?"

 

"Holiday was Alberto Falcone. Julian's Calendar Man," Chuck explained.

 

"Same difference," Sionis scowled.

 

"Phew- Don't tell Jules that. He'd go Apeshit," Sharpe pointed out.

 

==The Ballroom==

 

David Franco and his entourage of himself, his aide, his date Jenna, and the Physician, entered the Royal's ballroom. Awaiting them, was the Injustice League, a trio of villains consisting of Paul Booker (Major Disaster), Dufus Ratchet (Big Sir) and the Mighty Bruce, who had all since hung up their colourful outfits in favour of ill fitting shirts and ties. Normally, Booker and his cohorts were excluded from such events, but Dufus' newfound celebrity status had given the three access into the 'Big Leagues,' so to speak.

Spotting their coworker, Booker adjusted his collar, and slicked his hair back. "Gotta say, J-Bird, this is a pretty sweet shindig," he whistled at Duffy.

 

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" The Physician

suddenly complained, having already encountered an over-eager mug salesman on the way in. "You too? We expecting anyone else? Abbot and Costello? The Three Stooges? Waldo?" he yelled at Booker, only for his attention to be drawn to the Mighty Bruce. "Ah, but of course, Waldo's already here, I just couldn't fucking find him in this crowd!" Exasperated, he pushed past Jenna and the Injustice League, probably in search of someone else to yell at.

 

Disappointed, Booker turned instead to Ratchet. "Dammit, Sir, you're embarrassing me. This is a fancy party, don't use your fingers like some kinda animal," he scowled disdainfully.

 

"...It's finger food," Jenna pointed out.

 

"Oh, well, I suppose-" Booker begrudgingly admitted. "But it's... It's a principle!"

 

"Nice find Davey," Iron-Hat Ferris complimented Franco, as he circled Jenna, impressed. Jenna, held onto her purse (and the concealed power-drill) tightly.

 

Ferris' eyes flashed, a smug smile hidden behind his mask. He pulled Franco in close, and chuckled. "This one's got ideas above her station. Keep a tight lease on her, son."

 

He disappeared towards the bathroom, still laughing crudely, leaving Franco and Jenna to share an embarrassed look between themselves. A smile on his face, Franco rubbed her arm. "I'll get us a drink, shall I? he grinned nervously, as he walked off towards the bar, leaving Jenna alone with his aide. Standing there idly, she looked across the ballroom, and gasped as she noted a very familiar face among the crowd.

 

"Gar?" she called out.

 

Lynns' mouth fell open, and an awkward sound escaped his lungs. "Jenna!" he replied, in a mix of coughing and spluttering.

 

"Drury!" Walker added, making his way over from the other side of the room. "I'm also here. I also like to be included."

 

Noting Walker, Jenna's face fell, and she scratched her nails distractedly. "So, you're not-" she began.

 

"Not what-?" Gar asked, puzzled.

 

"Not here to see me," Jenna said, a slight note of disappointment in her voice.

 

Gar bowed his head. "No. Sorry, but no, Sionis hired us to serve as security. Drury signed us up because- it, uh, doesn't matter. You look great," he noted.

 

"You don't," she replied with a slight smirk.

 

"Heh," he said back, looking down at his feet.

 

"Sorry," Gar paused, as he suddenly noticed Franco's right hand, standing unreasonably close to the pair. "Do you mind, this is a private conversation."

 

The aide, didn't reply.

 

"It's fine, it's fine! I'm back. Stand aside, Ramsay," Franco announced, as he returned to Jenna's side. 'Ramsay' didn't say anything, but dutifully stepped aside.

 

"Friend of yours?" Gar asked, noting the white suited figure now walking towards them, two champagne glasses in hand.

 

"Yes... Boyfriend..." she trailed off, as she introduced the pair. "Davey, this is Gar- Garfield Lynns. And Gar, this is my boyfriend, David Franco. The White Mask. Sionis probably mentioned him, right?"

 

Gar looked over at Jenna incredulously and shook his head. "Nope. And if he weren't standing in front of me, I'd assume he were some Klu-Klux Klantasy you'd made up to mess with me."

 

Franco smiled. "Hah! Pleasure to meet you, Gar, Jenna's told me so much about you!"

 

"That's funny," Gar grimaced. "Because I know jackshit about you. Friend of the crime family, I take it?"

 

"Oh, sure, Romy and I go way back; it's in our blood! How did you-?"

 

Gar shrugged. "Lucky guess. Look, Mask-"

 

Franco raised a gloved hand, smiling. "Please. It's Mr Mask! No, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's David, David Franco."

 

Gar paused in disbelief. "And what, your friends call you Dave-?"

 

"If you like. We friends, Gar?" Franco inquired, a undercurrent of malice in his tone.

 

...

 

Gar looked back at Jenna, then at Franco. "Is this some kind of elaborate joke, or am I going to have to get my flamethrower?"

 

Drury's eyes narrowed as they made contact with Franco's. "Oh. Hi Mark," he said out of habit, and instinctively placed an arm around Lynns. "Hey, Gar, how about we talk over here for a minute?" As they walked off, Franco murmured in Jenna's ear. "And you kissed that man?" he asked. "How did that work- the man has no lips, Jelly Bean." Jenna tutted in displeasure at the remark, and looked back at Gar regretfully.

 

"Ok," Gar muttered reluctantly. "Ok. But don't take your eyes off of him. I've seen Now You See Me, and I regret it immensely.

 

"Dude, you saw Now You See Me?" Rigger's voice rang out through the comms.

 

"I like Morgan Freeman!" Gar answered back.

 

"Then watch a Nature Documentary, at least you'll learn something."

 

"Rigger!" Drury interjected. "Gar, have you considered seeing someone who isn't some kind of supervillian?"

 

Gar put a hand to his chin and pondered. "You're right, Drury, maybe I'll screw your sister, and in twenty years, maybe I'll force you to raise our kids together."

 

"Gar," Drury spoke candidly. I don't have a sister."

 

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Just a little on edge, I guess."

 

Drury nodded. "Sure. A little. Look, there comes a time when we need to date outside our social circles, because otherwise we'll reach an unending point of supervillain incest. King of Cats already has a head start there, and Floyd told me things about Nightshade that'd gross Dekker out."

 

Gar shook his head, watching as Franco leaned forward and planted a kiss on Jenna's cheek. "I dunno, maybe Zodiac was right," he sighed.

 

Drury very suddenly slapped him across the face, and pulled him close.

 

"You're delirious. Listen, the way I see it there's only one difference between you and Franco."

 

"Money-?"

 

"Skin," Walker said in unison.

 

...

 

Gar scowled at Drury, who hastily tried to save himself. "No, yeah, I meant money."

 

Across the table, Franco was now joking loudly, placing a hand on Sharpe's shoulder. "You think I'm bad? Wait until you meet Cyan Mask!" he cackled, as the two of them burst into hysterics.

 

Drury paused in realisation. "Do you think maybe Zodiac hated the wrong Dave Franco?"

 

Gar nodded. "I mean I wouldn't say the wrong one, but it's a distinct possibility."

 

~-~

 

As the night progressed, Gar sat at the side of the ballroom beside Drury, every now and then speaking up to insult or mock Franco from a safe distance. The rest of the Misfits were still wired into the comms, and would occasionally join the conversation to either vouch for, or criticise Gar's apparent obsession with the man.

 

"It's dumb, but I actually worked with the real Dave Franco. The actor, I mean," Gar was now saying.

 

"Oh, really?" Reardon asked.

 

"Billings' film, right?" Rigger inquired.

 

"Yeah," Gar explained. "Funny: He was actually billed to play you," he nodded in Drury's direction.

 

"Well, that's just nonsense," Drury scoffed.

 

"Yep," Gar smirked. "He backed out of it a few weeks into filming, mind."

 

"Oh. Oh, now I'm not good enough for him?" Drury asked indignantly.

 

"Probably more to do with the egotistical supervillian, Dru," Chuck reasoned. "Guy really needs a better agent..."

 

"Aha," Drury laughed sarcastically. He was just about to prepare a retort of his own when he suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence and rose to his feet.

 

"Hey, where are you going?" Gar asked.

 

"Oh, I won't be long," Drury reassured him. "Just think I saw an old friend," he explained, as he followed the Physician out of the ballroom.

 

"Wait, he has other friends?" Sharpe wondered aloud, doing a very bad job at hiding his surprise.

 

==The West Balcony==

 

Gar wandered onto the balcony looking for some air, and perhaps some privacy, only to find Flannegan still sprawled across the chair, napping. Opening a single sleepy eye, his first instinct was to reach into his coat pocket, and offer Gar a cigarette. "Got a light?" he asked, as he held a pair of cigarettes aloft.

 

Gar nodded gingerly, and, taking one for himself, lit the two.

 

At first, the duo sat in silence, just smoking under the night sky, until Otis slid his chair over and he turned to Gar. "The chick. Who's she to you?"

 

Gar looked over at him, confused.

 

"Oh, come on, you think I didn't notice your face crumble when that White Klansman kissed her? People, tch," he grumbled.

 

"You, were supposed to be asleep," Gar stated.

 

"Maybe I was. Maybe I've just got excellent hearing," he winked. "C'mon, spit it out."

 

Gar bowed his head. "She's a... friend. Co-worker. A..."

 

"Old flame?" Flannegan assumed, cracking a toothy smile. "How long did you know she and him were- y'know?" he asked.

 

"I... I didn't," Gar sighed. "I didn't. It's not like we dated for that long neither, but I- I'm hungry, but I can't eat. I'm tired, but I can't sleep, I don't want anything, or to do anything- I want to both kill and be that White Mask fuck... I dunno... Is- is that love?"

 

"No, I'd call that a mental disorder," Flannegan replied. "But, uh, in my experience, that's pretty much the same thing."

 

Gar sighed. "Figures."

 

'Damn it,' Otis grunted to himself. "Lynns, look. I'm gonna tell you about a woman very close to my heart."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah," Otis nodded reluctantly. "Her name, was Pamela Anderson. I only met her once, in person- and several times in my dreams, at a Baywatch convention. But I knew. I knew. That there was a bosom I would happily rest my head on. A woman who I wouldn't mind listening to, as she talked about her day. She could hit me over the head with one of those flotation thingies, and I would take it like a man, or a little girl- whichever she preferred. So, you ask me, is that love? Cause I don't fucking know."

 

...

 

"I went to a Baywatch convention for her. But I missed my chance. Mainly because she was married, and I was, like, 13 at the time. But now? Now I can't even watch Barb Wire without choking up."

 

"It's Ok, Barb Wire makes me cry too," Gar murmured. "It's a pretty awful film."

 

"Point is," Otis continued, "I missed my chance, but you? You haven't. One of us... One of us deserves to be happy."

 

"Funny," Gar smiles. "Chuck said the same thing."

 

Flannegan chuckled. "Brown's a sentimental idiot. From me, you can believe it," he said, as he placed a grubby hand on Gar's shoulder. "See, I don't know what's going to happen with Carson or Day or whoever. But I can tell you what we can do right now. We'll find that Green Goblin looking fuck, and make him wish he looked like Tommy Wiseau."

 

"That's the wrong Franco."

 

Otis scowled. "Lynns, the last film I saw in theatres was Solo," he replied, as he rose up from his seat.

 

Gar turned his head around slowly. "What, you didn't see Endgame?" he asked incredulously.

 

"So I can watch a bunch of do-gooders beat the crap out of a handsome supervillian for three and a half hours? No, thank you. I watch films to escape reality," Flannegan grinned, as he held the door open for someone, and re-entered the ballroom.

 

'He'd have liked it, a rat saved the universe,' Gar thought to himself.

 

"How's Josie?" a voice suddenly broke the silence.

 

Gar turned around suddenly, to see Jenna standing beside him, a concerned look on her face.

 

"I wouldn't really know," Gar confessed. "She's been staying with her mother."

 

"You've not visited her?" Jenna asked, surprised.

 

"Been a little busy... Can't exactly stroll back home without the Bats breaking the door down. Still message her every day, but... It's not the same."

 

Jenna nodded apologetically. "Listen I'm sorry about Davey. This isn't how I wanted us to meet again. But, he's, uh, persistent-"

 

"He's a persistent pain in the ass," Gar responded.

 

"He's... Theatrical," Jenna replied, trying hard not to laugh. "When all of... 'this' is over, I really hope I see you around. Work's not been the same without you." She patted him on the back, and walked back towards the door.

 

'This is your chance, Gar, speak up,' Lynns thought to himself. And then;

 

"Jenna, wait up!" he exclaimed suddenly, as he reached into his pocket. She stood there in stunned silence as he opened his wallet and... pulled out a USB stick.

 

"These are the notes Edison wanted me to take. He wanted them done for Monday, but I dunno. Do you mind handing them in, please?" he asked.

 

"... Sure," she agreed.

 

"Fantastic. Truly. It's like watching the bad kind of trainwreck," Sharpe recoiled, as he listened in on the conversation.

 

"There's a good type of trainwreck?" Reardon questioned.

 

"How did he ever have any luck with women?" Blake groaned.

 

"I mean, before he had skin," Rigger pointed out.

 

Gar put his finger to his earpiece. "I can hear all of you, you know."

 

"Well, I think you did great, Firefly!" Mayo chimed in.

 

~-~

 

"You got released?" Drury called out.

 

The Physician, took a deep breath, and tilted his head back. "How'd you know if was me?" he asked.

 

"The stench," Drury smiled. "You fucking reek of seawater."

 

'Of course...' Gaige rolled his eyes. "Now, is this gonna take all day, because I'm in the middle of something here."

 

"No, yeah, the Physician routine, I get it," Drury nodded. "I was told that's how you became Falcone's right hand in the old days. But look, you don't need to- you don't need to do the Scooby Doo routine anymore, you don't need to skulk around in the shadows making power plays. You'll always be Gaige to me: Rude tempered, spear throwing, questionable PhD-having Gaige."

 

He didn't reply.

 

"I'd heard you were dead, y'know," Drury continued. "There was this rumour back in Keystone that Talia Al Ghul had a flunkie stick a knife between your ribs."

 

"She tried," Gaige replied, trying to hide the smile now creeping up his face. "So you're working with Sionis now? Never would've expected that."

 

"You're one to talk," Drury pointed out. "I mean, White Mask? Is there anyone you haven't conspired with?"

 

"I'm an old man," he grinned, "I like to keep busy."

 

"Sure, yeah, but White Mask?" Walker laughed. "How'd that happen?"

 

Gaige bowed his head. "Entirely happenstance. He introduced himself to me in Blackgate- the Bat had got him locked up over a series of smuggling charges during that Arkham mess - amateur. Of course, I had thought he was the movie star."

 

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around," Walker conceded.

 

“Is star too strong a word? Anyway, so I said, ‘I know you, you're that young weaselly guy, with that weaselly older brother and god knows how, a loving wife. And money. I’ve a son in law like you. Pain in the arse, he is.’ Now, I never did find out if he had a wife, and if he had mentioned one, I wouldn’t have been listening. You're well aware that I drown out anything that doesn't pertain to hunting, fishing, business or Armani. I’m being irreverent, you know this about me.”

 

Drury smirked back at him. Gaige's eyes flashed back. “Let’s see if I understand this right. So, Franco teams up with you, busts you out, all so, what, he can take over the family business? That’s very Romulus and Remus.”

 

Gaige looked puzzled for a second, and then smiled. "Walker, Franco isn't Sionis' brother. They don't share a single cell of DNA."

 

"But Roman said-"

 

"Oh c'mon," Gaige winked. "Who'd believe a dumb rumour like that?"

 

"But, if he's not... Then who's his dad?" Drury paused, his brow furrowing.

 

"Some cunt called Franco, I'd wager, how the hell would I know? It doesn't matter. All that does is that we tricked Sionis into thinking he was."

It isn't long, before I arrive at the scene of the explosion. It's Screwball and Jester once again. Another jexting to improve her ratings, no doubt.. This time, an art gallery?! Guess you gotta switch it up from time to time. But they aren't alone. Chasing after them, is Lana. Well that explains the explosions at least.

 

"Look who bothered to show up!" Lana says with a smirk, teasing me, as she notices me land in front of the two pranksters.

 

"Yeah.. I was in the neighborhood, and figured I shouldn't let you have all the fun! Especially since the last few fights haven't ended well for yours truly." Jester's bots crawl towards me, as he flings his explosive yoyo at me. I use the bots to my advantage, throwing them into the yo-yo with a webline.

 

"Awh man!" Jester whines, as the bots explode on impact. He and Screwball use this as a distraction to make a break for it. Unfortunately for them, Lana is able to propel herself forward at incredible speeds due by aiming her mini explosions behind her, catching up to them in a matter of seconds. I create a ball out of my webbing, which I throw towards to Lana. She directs the ball with an explosion towards Screwball and Jester. Screwball, is able to somehow kickflip her skateboard, and herself over it, but Jester however doesn't stand a chance, and as it collides into him, it webs him directly onto the nearby wall. Impact webbing.. Gotta love it!

 

"Jester's down for the count, but don't worry Screwball nation! You'll still be close to the action! The Spectacular Spider-Man, and his trusty sidekick, Bombshell, bring chase, but what's this? Screwball out maneuvers them both?! How can this be?" She announces, narrating everything she does, as though her viewers are complete morons. She stops for a moment, before speaking again.

 

"Took your advice Spider-Man! Went for something a little different this time around. This original enough for you?" She asks, grinning, before her skateboard boosts her throughout the city, still holding some pieces of art in her hands, as she weaves in between cars, making it difficult to hit her with my webs.

 

"Can't say that it is. But hey, I'll give you a B for effort! That sound good to you?"

 

"Sure.. Guess there's always room for improvement." She replies, clearly disappointed, and seemingly lost in thought.

 

" I got her! " Lana says triumphantly, about to power up another explosion. But with her being so close to traffic, it's too risky.

 

"L--Bombshell don't!!" I yell, but it's too late, as the explosion goes off, which causes debris to start flying towards civilians walking by. I web blast some of the debris onto the walls of nearby buildings, while creating nets under others. Making sure that everyone's okay, before giving chase. Unfortunately, I'm out of web fluid once more..

 

"Could've sworn I had more than this." I mutter to myself, as I now resort to running across rooftops. Screwball's able to avoid Lana's barrage of explosions rather easily. Leaping off the building when I get to the edge, I start diving into free fall. Not really sure how I'll go about this, before I hear Lana behind me.

 

"I'll give you a boost. You just gotta trust me, okay?" She laughs, to which I only nod.

 

I've got a bad feeling I'm going to regret what comes next.. She creates an explosion behind me, just powerful enough to send me throttling towards Screwball, but weak enough that it won't hurt me too badly. At least, that's what I'm hoping.. Sure enough, within a matter of seconds, I'm in range, tackling Screwball off of her skateboard, and onto the sidewalk. Groaning from the impact, I get up, but Screwball's having a harder time.

 

"Show's over, Screwball." I say raising my fist.

 

"Oh, but the show's never over, Spider-Man!" Is all that she's able to say before I knock her out with one last punch, smashing her camera HUD in the process, which was stored in her visor.

 

It isn't long before Lana catches up, and lands beside me.

 

"Sorry about that. I really thought I could get her there, but it just ended up causing more problems."

 

"Nobody got hurt, so it's fine. Just have to be more careful next time, okay?" I answer, trying to reassure her.

 

"Yeah, okay." She pauses before looking at her watch. "Guess we should probably get going to school. Ready to go?"

 

"Yep, I'm right behind you. Just got one thing left to do." She lifts off, making her way to school. After retrieving my backpack from that one random alleyway, I leave a note at the scene, reading From your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man! , sticking it onto Screwball's helmet, before making my way to Midtown High.

  

"Alicia!!" I yell, flying straight at the Kanima. The impact of my fists on its chest is surprisingly enough to send the creature flying across the room. Finally, the hellish Red Mercy nightmare is over. But that, combined with the lack of sunlight, has left me feeling exhausted. Definitely not feeling 100 percent right now. I land beside Alicia, as she's holding her hands over the wound. I'm able to cauterize it with my heat vision, which causes her to scream pretty loudly. I do my best to comfort her through the pain.

 

"Young love.. Awh, how adorable. It's a pity you were too late." Psycho Pirate cackles, taking this time to move up to the observatory deck.

 

"Chris it's the mask. Don't look at th--" Is all she's able to say, pointing at the Psycho Pirate. Unfortunately, the cauterization doesn't stop her from becoming completely paralyzed. I promised I would take care of her.. She needs to get to a hospital, fast. But if I leave with her now, who knows what else that psycho will do with that creature. What he'll command it to do. Just the thought of it gives me goosebumps. As fast as I am, I can't be two places at once. It doesn't take long for the Kanima to recover, skittering towards me along the wall. It's able to avoid my bursts of heat vision rather easily. It leaps onto me, trying to slash at me with its claws. Luckily, I'm able to raise my arms up in time to block the oncoming strikes. I swing my fist, which the creature is able to counter, grabbing my fist before it has the chance to hit. After a couple of seconds of inhaling air, I exhale. My "super breath" as Clark likes to call it, blowing the creature up into the air, going through the hole Kara and the clones made earlier. It takes a few extra seconds, before I can see the Kanima. There it is, falling down to the ground. But it's not the only thing, as I notice the evil clones, and Kara soon after descending through the air, floating down to the ground. The Kanima crashes into the ground, making a small crater with the impact.

  

"What are they doing here?" I scoff, glaring at the evil clones.

 

"Saving you, and your girlfriend." Match says with a smirk. I look over at Kara, and she just shrugs.

 

"They're here to help. What happened to Alicia?" She asks, looking over at Alicia.

 

"Honestly sis? I'm not exactly sure. Only that she's fully paralyzed. As for those two helping us? That's hard to believe, considering everything they've done." I reply.

 

"And they'll have to live with that for the rest of their lives.. But for right now, they want to help. Just trust me, okay?"

 

"Okay.." I nod. I don't have the energy to argue with her, or anyone else for that matter, right now.

 

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to kill them! You hate them. You're so angry with them for taking what was rightfully yours! You're the heroes of this story, not them! No, no, no!" Pirate screeches, as he slams his fist down on the metal railing in front of him. The expression of his mask shifts once again, the eyes glowing green.

 

"We weren't being heroes. So many innocent lives were at stake, just for your own amusement. Pathetic if you ask me." Galatea snarls, as she's just about ready to fly after him.

 

"It's that mask of his. I should've realized this sooner. We should've realized this sooner sis." Match says, eyes glowing red, about to fire off heat vision. "You manipulated us. Years of our lives, we'll never get back." His expression quickly shifts back to his usual, smugness.

 

"Please tell me you guys got this, now that we all know his shattering weakness? If I don't get her to a hospital quick-- "

 

"Go! We've got this in the bag." Kara replies smugly, giving me a thumbs up. With that, I leave, scooping Alicia up into my arms, and start to fly. It's then, that I notice the sunlight peering through. Let's hope I get there on time.

 

-----------------------------------------

POV Change

 

My brother leaves, and the Pirate starts to back away, narrowly avoiding Match's burst of heat vision. He starts frantically running for his life, with the three of us chasing him moments later. The Kanima went down pretty easily, between the three of us. He has a head start, though we're able to close that gap pretty easily.

 

"You love me! After all, I gave you everything! Without me, you wouldn't even exist! You don't want to fight me. You really don't!" He says frantically, turning around so we're facing the mask. Not that it does him any good, as we shield our eyes from the masks view.

 

"Heh, nice try. Better luck next time!" Match cheers triumphantly, as he pulls the mask off Psycho Pirate. Beneath the mask, is just a man. A man so clearly frightened for his own life as his own creations have turned against him. As angry as they are with him, they aren't doing anything drastic. Making small steps forward, but still steps nonetheless. With that, this fight is over.

 

-------------------------------------------

One Month Later

 

Here I am, writing in my journal. Yeah, I have a journal now. As part of a recent assignment for school, it's a way for me to reflect on everything that's happened. Weeks have already gone by since being rescued from the clutches of the Red Mercy, and Psycho Pirate. Physically, I'm in perfect health. Thank Rao Alicia's alive and well.. Fully recovered from the paralysis. So we've definitely been making the most of the free time we have. Whether it's going out for coffee, or just sitting on the couch at home, binging anything and everything on Netflix. I've learned not to take anything for granted.

 

As for Psycho Pirate, he's locked away, presumably in the same prison as Harvest is. Turns out he has a real name after all. Roger Hayden. The source of our troubles for the past two months. I guess it was more the Medusa Mask, than Hayden himself. And yes, that's the official name for it. An artifact, with its origin in Santa Prisca. At least, that's what endless hours of research told me. The Kanima would be transported to various facilities, before winding up in Belle Reve. It killed so many people, including dozens of D.E.O agents. That's not even mentioning how it pretended to be Tycho for many years. Yeah, I'm still slightly bitter about that. The Kanima would find a new master in Amanda Waller, presumably for her newest Suicide Squad.

 

Then there's the clones, Match and Galatea. Kara, and Clark, found and reached out to Tess Mercer, the human DNA donor for Match, about taking the two of them in. It didn't take much convincing, as Tess Mercer welcomed them with open arms. Apparently, she was already looking to adopt, so it was sort of perfect timing. It was clear, that the clones' emotions had been manipulated by Hayden, along with their memories. It's hard to forgive all they've done though. They almost killed Kara, amongst putting other innocent lives at risk. But as it wasn't actually their fault, they were given a second chance. Now they live in Smallville, taking the names Conner, and Linda. Kara talks to them often, while I've kept my distance. Still haven't really found it in my heart to forgive them. Anyways, they too are doing the hero thing, as Power Boy and Power Girl, as a way to atone for what they've done. I can only hope that this sticks. Oh and there's my alarm. Guess I better get going. School waits for no one.

  

-----------------------------------

Elsewhere

 

"C'mon guys, we gotta move!" I yell, as I run out of the bank, my hands clutching the dufflebag. I weave through the streets, making my way back to our hideout. Unfortunately, as I enter a nearby alleyway, I trip and fall flat on my face. For some reason I can't get back up. Suddenly I hear laughter. And sure enough, four figures come from around the corner, one of them laughing.

 

"Can you believe how stupid they were? Like what did they think would happen? They have pea shooters for crying out loud!" The girl continues to laugh, until the 4 of them notice me.

 

"Would you look at that! There's the one that almost got away! I almost feel sorry for the guy." Another one of them retorts.

 

I'm about to get up, only to fall once more.. I'm getting so sick of this shit.

 

"What do you want with me?" I yell, but it doesn't seem to phase them.

 

"You made a mistake, stealing from that bank. Did you really think you wouldn't get caught?" The hooded man asks, avoiding my question.

 

"I'm just trying to earn a living!" I respond, spitting on their boots.

 

"By stealing everyone else's livelihood. Yeah, you're a real stand up guy! Criminals like you never learn."

 

"I'm getting bored. Can we just kill the guy already? Enough playing around."

 

"Kill me?! But I though-

 

"Thought what? That we would let you live? We're not like those aliens 'heroes', Supergirl and Superboy. They don't know what's best for us. They don't go far enough to eliminate the crime of this city. This is the birth of a new age. The age of the elite."

 

BANG!

 

---------------------------------------------

Just like that, Volume 2 is over. Wow. 20 issues, and it took a year to complete, but it's finally over! Hope everyone enjoyed reading this Volume. I honestly believe I've vastly improved in many areas thanks to this series, and especially this volume. So many issues I'm really proud of. Thank you so much for the constant support! Your feedback really helps, so I appreciate you all taking the time out of your day to read these issues. Anyways, Vol 3 will hopefully come soon. Though, I won't guarantee anything, as I want to focus on the stories I haven't done issues of for a while. Cheers!

The quiet rooms and halls set the stage for Conner’s distress. All the walls had memories of his wife flutter in his mind. A picture of their wedding just a couple years ago. One of their first house. Their first car… Their first kiss. Flower pots on tables were filled with daffodils, Josephine’s favorite.

 

Conner made his way to his room and threw off his sunglasses. He then slumped onto the bed and threw his shoes back into his closet. He covered his eyes with his hands and began to weep. “How could this happen?” he thought to himself. He turned over in his bed and his eyes’ gaze hit a picture that sat on his bed side table. The picture was one from their first date. They met in high school. Conner grabbed the frame and stared intently at the picture.

 

”I’m going to find you. I promise.” Conner put the frame back on the table and jumped from his bed. He walked over to his computer and opened up the browser. Not knowing what to do, he began typing in anything that could possibly lead to these masked men. “Red masked men” “Red masked criminals” “red men.” Nothing but cheap party masks showed up. Conner was about to give up but then, he remembered one more thing. They had no gloves on. Conner jumped from his seat and ran downstairs. He made his way to the living room and found the coat rack he was hit on the head with. He then carefully picked it up and inspected the main rod. He saw what looked to be a smudge.

 

”Yes! Jossie, I’m coming for you.” Quickly, Conner ran back up to his room and put on his shoes and his sunglasses. He then ran back downstairs and then to his car. He would have taken his bike but didn’t want to risk the coat rack from flying off the back seat. So Conner threw the rack into the back seat of his car and sped off to the police department. They may not have been able to send out groups of officers without any evidence, but with a finger print. Heck, all they might need is a small group of officers trained for just this kind of situation.

 

Conner’s car came to a screeching halt outside the police department and he ran inside with the coat rack in hand. He jumped through the hole he made in the door just under an hour earlier. This perturbed the men that were inspecting the door to see how to take it off its hinges.

 

”Sorry, I gotta run!”

 

He made it to the spot he stood before and he looked around. This time he did not have to yell for the commissioner as he was standing at a nearby desk. Conner swiftly made his way over the commissioner and lifted the coat rack up to his face.

 

”I’ve got evidence!”

 

“Son, what you’ve got is a coat rack.”

 

”I mean this was the coat rack they used to knock me out. They didn’t have any gloves on so there have to be finger prints, right?” The commissioner sighed and looked up at Conner. He scratched his head and then turned to the lady at the desk behind him.

 

“Mariah, have this coat rack transported to forensics. They need to scan this thing for finger prints.”

 

“Yes sir. Right away.”

 

Mariah quickly picks up a phone and hits a button to transfer to the forensics office. She told them the situation and moments later an officer entered the room. He greeted Conner and the Commissioner and then took the rack.

 

”Be careful with that. It’s really important.”

 

“Yes, Pink-Man. Whatever you say.” The officer’s tone suggested that he was a tad perturbed by this command. Carefully, the officer made his way into the forensics lab to inspect the coat rack. As the officer left the room Conner whispered under his breath.

 

”Come on. Please this is my only hope right now…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It's been a while since the last issue, but that was mainly because I hadn't made a photo for the story. It's here now, so enjoy. :D

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

Floor 32: West Ventilation Duct

 

Five Minutes Ago

 

Clack. Clack. Clack.

 

The sound of Carson's boots against the metal flooring was growing fainter now. He was on the move, going god knows where under the influence of that Pirate guy, Hayden.

 

Chuck let out a pained groan. 'Hayden... Where had Hayden gone off to now? He must've scurried off the instant Carson dropped him. But where?' Chuck knew the Outcasts had to have a base of some kind, but somehow he doubted Hayden would be welcome at the clubhouse after what he just pulled. That was, of course, provided Carson was ever an 'official' Outcast, and not just a scapegoat for him.

 

The phone was purple.

 

His head still spinning, Chuck dragged himself along the ground towards Ten. 'He was going to be ok, he had to be ok.'

 

'Good, he had a pulse. But he was bleeding. Badly.'

 

Chuck sighed. 'I could maybe make a tourniquet with the tattered remains of my kite-?' he suggested to himself.

 

'No, don't be stupid, Chuck,' he dismissed the idea. 'Kites don't solve everything. You know better than that. Remember that hurricane?

 

He looked over his shoulder. A few yards away from them, Noah Kuttler lay sprawled across the floor. 'One thing at a time,' Chuck decided. 'Kuttler would understand.'

 

It was just the five of them now: Himself, Ten, Kuttler and the girl.

 

'Five... Why did I say five? Who was I forgetting?'

 

'Ah, Julian. Of course.'

 

'Julian!'

 

Chuck rubbed his eyes, and looked down at the empty bottle still in his hand, and then over at Julian's still figure just inches away; a trail of vomit was trickling down his mouth, his eyes were glazed over and his breathing was slow and raspy. It was as though his body was doing everything in it's power to reject the medicine Chuck had forced down its' throat. The vial of Fearless, sat harmlessly in his open palm.

 

Chuck's hands shook, and finally, he launched the empty bottle of diaxymine across the room, letting out a disgusted cry of anger as he did so. He looked at Ten again, and swallowed his shame. "You're going to be alright," he promised him.

 

The phone was purple.

 

'That doesn't mean anything,' Chuck argued with himself. 'Drury wears purple. Colonel Blimp wears purple.' But then again, that voice wasn't Blimp's. And it sure as hell wasn't Drury's.

 

The phone was purple.

 

Bridget Pike was standing upright, her right glove enveloped in an orange flame. For a moment, Chuck thought she was looking to fight. That she blamed them for her father's psychotic outburst and his subsequent abandoning of her. Typical. And then she spoke:

 

"Let me cauterise it," she offered, gesturing to Ten's shoulder wound. "I can't stop it hurting," she added, "But I can stop the bleeding."

 

"So, what else is new?" Ten joked.

 

Bridget and Chuck shared concerned glances.

 

"Sorry, that was probably in poor taste, given... everything. Do it," Ten stated, as he took a rubber block from his medical bag and placed it between his teeth, biting down.

 

The next thing he said was muffled by the rubber block as Bridget got to work but Chuck surmised it wasn't anything pleasant.

 

The phone was purple...

 

"Chuck."

 

A voice had broken through Ten's muffled shouts of pain and pierced Chuck's inner monologue. And as Bridget recognised it, her body stiffened. "Drury."

 

Chuck panicked, bringing the comms device up to his mouth. "I couldn't stop him, Drury- I tried, really. But he's coming. He's coming for you and I didn't stop him."

 

"It's... It's alright, Chuck," Drury answered, a note of quiet acceptance in his tone.

 

"No, it's not, it's Joker! It's always been Joker!"

 

No reply. He'd hung up... But Chuck's plea had not gone unheard.

 

"What, was Joker?" Bridget asked, bringing her hand away from Ten's now healed shoulder, her gauntlet still glowing.

 

The phone was purple.

 

===Floor 19===

 

Now.

 

Carson's first attack caught the group off guard; a blast of intense bright light had shot out of his belt and blinded the hallway's occupants.

 

Gar, had been the first to recognise the device. It was similar to the prototype belt he'd worn during his first outing as Firefly, before he'd graduated to his wingsuit and flamethrower. The belt's circuitry had later been incorporated into Crazy Quilt's helmet.

Carson, Gar surmised, must have learned of the belt from Day, or maybe Dekker himself, dismissing Carson's own proficiency in engineering. Though he tried to warn the group, the damage had already been done.

 

For Gaige (Whose mask served as a protective visor) and Gar (Who had built up a tolerance), the light had less severe effects. For Jenna, Drury, Joey, Franco and even his bodyguard, Rosso, the light had brought them to their knees. Franco, embarrassingly, had thrown up a little, staining his lilac shirt. This had been Carson's goal, of course; to disorientate the group and keep them isolated, all so he could focus his efforts on Drury.

 

He had not, however, anticipated Gar nor Gaige's resistance to his belt, and before he had the chance to parry it with his firesword, Gaige had hurled his curtain rod at Carson, impaling his left shoulder.

 

Grunting in discomfort as he struggled to remove the pole, Carson held the firesword in his other hand, and brought it close to his wound, cutting off the protruding end of the rod.

Whether it had been an effect of the Pirate's influence, or if his inherent anger had simply dulled the pain, Carson walked off what should have been an decommissioning wound.

 

Gar lowered his flamethrower, and stared at Gaige as if to say 'Great, like he wasn't pissed off before.'

 

=Royal Elevator: Currently Stuck Between Floors=

 

Roman Sionis tapped his foot impatiently. "Now, who's bright idea was it to loop Mariah Carey through the elevator speakers?" he complained. The elevator itself may have stalled, but the speakers had remained intact, much to the trapped pair's annoyance.

 

Li rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'd assume it was Salvatore Mirti. You know how he passionate he is about the holidays."

 

"Oh? He's still the general manager? Jeez... That's, what, thirteen years?"

 

"Fourteen. Fifteen in April."

 

"Christ. Think maybe I better leave it a week, then. His brother was pushed through a furnace."

 

"No, that was Viti," Li corrected him, consulting his notepad. "Sal's brother was the Thanksgiving killing."

 

"Ohhh. The one with the bomb up his-?"

 

"That one."

 

"Sheesh," Sionis shook his head. "Better make it two weeks."

 

===Floor 19===

 

Lying on the floor, Jenna opened her eyes, her ears ringing. Her eyesight not yet fully restored, she could only make out a group of blurred, colorful shapes trading blows. Several black shapes were battling a red shape; Carson, she had to assume. A pink shape, and a gold shape, were bouncing up and down in the opposite direction; 'That must be Lord Manga and his robot making their getaway,' she deduced.

 

One of the black figures was thrown to the ground. A second, attempted to provide cover for the first. The first, was Drury; she figured that out by the way it swore, how it's natural accent came to the surface. That made the second one Gar. She knew that by the protective way it had jumped in front of Carson's path.

 

As her senses returned, the situation became much clearer; Drury was on the floor again, while Gar was crawling towards them both, blood dribbling down his forehead.

Gaige, was keeping Carson at bay for now, but when his only protection was a three piece suit and an ascot tied around his forehead, it seemed to Jenna as though his efforts were very much in vain, proven when Carson picked up a broken piece of curtain rod and cracked it across Gaige's face.

 

Shaking him off, Carson reignited his firesword. Drury was in his sights again, and he had no intention of letting a disgraced pirate stand in his way again. He held the firesword aloft his head like an executioner's axe, but as he brought it crashing down, Joey swooped in on his knees, and met Carson's firesword with his own katana, blocking it from hitting Drury. Adjusting the temperature dial on the sword's handle, Carson swung his blade again, and cleaved the katana in two; the fiery blade cutting through Joey's like a knife through hot butter.

 

The metal shard clattered to the ground with a loud clang. Shaking with fear, and still holding the sword's handle, Joey raised his hands to defend himself. Carson rolled his fist, and with a loud crack, Joey joined his broken blade on the floor, unconscious.

 

Swinging his blade a third time, Drury's watch projected a blue shield, catching Carson's sword. Pushing Carson off of him, Drury swung the shield under Carson's legs, tripping him up.

 

Next, he fired his cocoon gun at Carson's chest, coating his breastplate in his signature formula. But no sooner had it landed on him, Carson's armour sizzled, melting away the goo.

 

Drury sighed, and untucked his shirt, retrieving a further two cocoon cartridges stuffed behind his waistband.

 

The first, shot out an acidic compound that bore through Carson's armour. Landing on the visor of his mask, Carson discarded the helmet before the compound could eat it's way through to his face.

The next, excreted a thick green sludge, an attractant for small flies and moths. Carson, swatted the insects away, smirking as the hapless bugs flew into the path of his firesword.

 

Gaige flung a homemade rope dart at Carson; made from a long piece of elasticated rope, and the remains of Rigger's broken katana.

The blade, found it's mark in an unprotected nook in Carson's shoulder; the hole where Gaige had previously thrown the curtain rod through.

 

Carson grunted in pain, but nevertheless tugged on the rope, pulling Gaige toward him and incapacitating him with a choke-slam.

 

Before Jenna could intervene, a hand clasped itself around hers and pulled her to her feet; dragging her along in the opposite direction.

 

"I said we're leaving," a familiar voice warned her. This time, Franco's tone was much more forceful.

 

Surprised by his sudden mobility, Jenna looked down at his stomach, "Your wound..." she gasped. The gash on Franco's side had completely healed. "How did Rosso-" she stammered, her eyes darting between the wound, Franco and Rosso in incomprehension.

 

"Doesn't matter," Franco deflected. "Let's just say... it wasn't as bad as we thought," he chuckled, as he forcefully escorted her towards the stairwell.

 

"Jenna-!" Gar grunted as he rose to his feet. As he started to run after her, he hesitated. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes met with Drury's.

 

In the midst of blocking Carson's sword with his shield, Drury nodded, a supportive smile breaking across his face. "Go get her."

 

Gar nodded gratefully, and sped after her.

 

===Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48===

 

A blue and black figure grappled up through the broken windowsill, two fingers in his ear. "We got any idea where the Misfits are?" he asked into his comms unit.

 

"Personally, I'd follow the trail of broken glass and the smell of ash; that's always a good start." the voice replied.

 

"Hah, good call," Nightwing smirked, as he walked across the penthouse towards the unconscious, hairy figure in the room's center. He squatted beside him, and consulted Oracle. "Oracle, I'm sitting here with Catman. Penthouse floor. Got a couple of dead guards, some goons... No sign of... anyone else."

 

"Batgirl's found some survivors in the lobby. Chancer, Condiment King, Polka Dot Man."

 

"Aw, man, all the fun ones," Nightwing smiled, pretending to sound hurt.

 

Blake stirred, putting a hand to his head.

"Wait... There's more people... Ten and Kuttler went into the ducts... Day went in... Chuck followed."

 

"Oracle?" Nightwing looked to her for confirmation.

 

"Hang on... Right, I am getting a weak signal from the 37th floor. I'm going to send Red Robin and Spoiler to check that out."

 

Nightwing paused, lowering his voice. "Wait. He's back to Red Robin again? What happened?"

 

"Damian had a tantrum."

 

"Oh. Well, at least it's not Drake."

 

"I hear you. So much for a secret identity."

 

"Yeah, about that," Nightwing trailed off, turning his attention back over to Blake. "You're going to be alright, man. I've got some gauze and antiseptics in my belt."

 

"Nightwing, yeah?" Blake yawned. "What, he couldn't send Catwoman?" he asked disappointedly.

 

"She was busy. I'm the next best thing," Nightwing joked.

 

"Eh, I suppose. I guess you kinda look like Catwoman. From behind, I mean. Similar... hairstyles."

 

"For both our sakes, I'm going to pretend that's the blood loss talking, that ok with you, man?" Nightwing asked. "Man, why couldn't he assign me to Condiment King?"

 

==The Lobby: Ground Floor==

 

A short girl in a long black cape and a matching, pointed cowl glided down to the floor, taking note of the three unconscious men on the ground, and the fourth man sat in the centre of them; bound to a barstool by a string of red webbing.

 

Krill's chair groaned, as he moved the stool from side to side, aiming to grab the attention of the new arrival: "Aw, Batgirl, thank god you're here!" he jeered. "These loonies came outta nowhere, kicked the shit out of me and tied me up! Then they had the bloody audacity to take a bleeding nap on the blooming carpet there! To think, I only came in for a pint-"

 

Krill paused. The girl, was walking right past him, heading towards the unconscious trio of Mayo, Sharpe and Needham instead. Rude. "No speak-y English?" he mimed.

 

"No speak-y... at all?"

 

Cassandra Cain ignored him, kneeling down at Needham's side. "Eric?" she whispered quietly.

 

"It is Batgirl, though, right?" Krill interjected. "Not the gimp from Pulp Fiction? The masks... They're pretty similar, might want to get something done about that."

 

Beneath her mask, Cass rolled her eyes. "Know about Joker," she spoke.

 

"Now, see, there-" Krill swallowed, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. "There, I was seduced and manipulated."

 

"Aight. Good talk," he shook his head.

 

"Batgirl-?" Needham stirred. "We were blindsided... Psycho Pirate and the Pike girl-"

 

"Know about that too," she nodded. "So does he."

 

Needham shot upright. "He... He's here?"

 

"He's here," Cass repeated.

 

Needham put his hand to his forehead, and sighed. "Shit..." he muttered under his breath, and he lay back down.

 

==Floor 9==

 

"Send me to do clean up... Does he think I'm the fucking pencil?"

 

Shirking his duties, Otis Flannegan was trudging down the hallway, complaining to the rats following in his wake. "Plonker. Cut me out of the fight, will 'e? Probably worried I'd steal his thunder, kill the asshole myself. Which I would. Moron's gonna get killed. And if he's dead, I'm not getting paid, and if I'm not getting paid, then I went to that college for nothing. And if I went to that college for nothing, then someone is gonna get their throat ripped out."

 

He stopped as he made contact with a cloaked, pointed ear silhouette. "Where is he?" the figure demanded.

 

"Ah, fuck me."

 

==Floor 13==

 

Jenna struggled to wrestle free of Franco's tight grip, as they descended along the stairwell. "Where are you taking me?" she questioned him. "Didn't you see I was trying to help back there?"

 

"Yeah? By taking a nap?" Franco scoffed dismissively. "Sionis, has a panic room along here; it leads to an underground tunnel, to one of his Steel Mills. We go through there, and we're home free," he assured her, a cocky smile stretched across his face. Lagging behind, Rosso looked up towards the 19th floor, his eyes narrowing.

 

Jenna shook her hand loose from Franco's, and spun around to confront him. "Davey, wait. Just wait. Gar's still out there; even you can't just-"

 

All warmth drained from Franco's face at the mention of Lynns. "So, that Mighty Morphin Power Ranger was right... You do still have feelings for him."

 

"Yeah," Jenna admitted shyly.

 

Franco nodded half-heartedly. "Ok. Ok! But know that I didn't come back just to be a substitute for some psychotic has-been," he complained, waving a finger in her face.

 

Jenna's eyes narrowed. "Has-been? Garfield Lynns is a bigger man than you ever were!"

 

"No," he shook his head dismissively. "This wasn't supposed to happen. The Calendar freak was going to be dealt with by now... They were all supposed to be dealt with by now."

 

"You knew... You knew Day was gonna attack!" Jenna accused him in a hushed whisper.

 

Franco was barely paying attention to her now, rocking his head back and forth as he tried to justify himself. "Ferris made it sound so simple... The Calendar Man comes in, kills Sionis, and I swoop in, inheriting Janus and all its' under the table subsidiaries. Course that didn't pan out, so I had to improvise!"

 

Jenna took a step back, her hand stuffed down her purse. "Wait... Power Ranger. You said Power Ranger. You- You called Carson," Jenna realised. "Carson-"

 

"Is a tool, (and a tool) that's all. A means to an end," Franco waved his hands in the air.

 

"A means to an end?" she repeated, stunned. "A means to a-? You mean kill Gar and Drury, don't you?"

 

"Day's one of theirs, alright? They brought him here, ok? Not me. They, were the ones messing with the mob, remember? Pissing off Sionis, Cobblepot, Dent... But tonight's... Tonight's gonna finally tip the scales in our favour, Jelly Bean, didn't I say that? C'mon, what do you say?" he held his palm out, hoping she'd take it.

 

Jenna removed her hand from her purse, and with it, she slashed Franco's face with a sharpened screwdriver, leaving a deep gash across his nose and cheek.

 

Franco ran his hand down his wound, and licked the blood. "Course, you coulda just said no," he grinned.

 

Six floors up, using the support pillars as cover, Gar adjusted his flamethrower, tapering the nozzle so that he could get a clean shot of Franco. No go. He couldn't risk tagging Jenna. So, he had to switch tactics. He twisted the scope, and aimed the flamethrower at Rosso instead. And Rosso, stared back

 

==Floor 19==

 

Drury had but one advantage: On the ground, Carson was slower; sluggish; held back by the protective red and gold armour he wore.

And so long as they kept the battle here in this small, narrow hallway, Carson lacked the space to get airborne. If they reached the stairwell on the north end of the room, or the window on the south side, it was over; Carson would fly Drury up to the top of the Royal, and drop him. But unlike Chancer, there wouldn't be an awning to break the fall. This time, Drury would be splattered across the sidewalk like... Well, like a bug on a windshield.

 

"You know what the worst thing you did to me was?" Carson asked. "You made me the villain. You murdered me, and made me the villain. The bad guy. The monster. All because I wanted the retribution that I am rightfully owed!"

 

"You crashed my wedding," Drury spoke, spraying a fire extinguisher over Carson, coating him in clouds of white foam. Once it was empty, he bashed the canister across his chest. Twice.

 

"You, still got married. I, got shot in the head." The third time Drury raised the canister, Carson grabbed the fire extinguisher by its' nozzle and cracked it across Drury's face, flooring him. Drury's watch, slid off his wrist.

 

"How about my son's funeral?" Drury spat, wiping the blood off his split lip.

 

"He came back. You trapped me with a demon." Carson reminded him, stepping on the watch as he picked Drury up and slammed him into the left most wall.

 

Blood dribbled down Drury's chin. "You killed the Suit."

 

Carson's eye twitched slightly. "You're... You're still hung up about that? That mute piece of cloth?"

 

"He was good. Decent."

 

"HE WASN'T EVEN A REAL PERSON!" Carson screamed. He threw him again, and this time, Drury collided with a wooden door, rolling into a guest room, wooden splinters protruding from his hands and knees.

 

"When I finally came here. Home. To Gotham. Do you know what I found? Do you? My wife. Dead. Course, you already knew that, didn't you?" Carson's eyes bulged.

 

Drury grabbed one of the larger chunks of wood and hurled it at Carson's exposed head, but this time he was ready; and the firesword intercepted the makeshift projectile.

 

"See, Bridget told me Dan Twag gave the order. She didn't say, that it was your brother that fired the gun. Your gun. That little 'tidbit' I had to learn from Abner Krill. Abner Krill!" Spit flew out of Carson's mouth, his face contorted with contempt of Drury, and of Twag.

 

Drury hung his head in shame. He remembered that night in Carmen Pike's house. Vividly. He remembered the smell of the tomato soup on the stove, he remembered the daisy shaped post-it notes on the fridge. He remembered his brother Norbert's dead-eyed stare as he pulled the trigger, he remembered the taste of his blood in his mouth. The sound of the radio, playing 'A Beautiful Morning,' from his parked car outside. He remembered that feeling of despair as he realised he had been played by Dan Twag, manoeuvred into a no-win situation, as he understood that the next time he'd see Miranda, his kids, it would be behind glass.

 

"I just keep thinking... 'What if I'd been there?' To protect my family. My wife would be alive. My daughter wouldn't be a con, labelled a terrorist by crooks who don't know what true terror is. 'Terrorist...'" Carson swallowed. "My people betrayed me. They always do. Zodiac, No-Face, Hayden. Twag. My daughter's godfather, he was. We enlisted together. Tells you something, don't it? Tells you, you gotta watch your back. Always.

Now your people... Your people hang onto your every word. They'd do anything for you. Sacrifice themselves for you. And what do I have? WHAT HAVE YOU LEFT ME?!"

 

Drury had been reaching for another chunk of splintered wood, but relented. His hand fell by his side, as his eyes met with Carson's. "I gave you an out."

 

"You mean you walked away," Carson nodded. "But you can't walk away. Not from this. Not this time."

 

With a kick, Carson flung Drury from one end of the hotel suite to the other. Drury grabbed a vase placed at the balcony entrance, and threw it at Carson's chest; shattering as it made contact. In turn, Carson threw a ferocious haymaker at Drury that knocked him through the sliding door, and onto the balcony outside. 'No awning,' Drury reminded himself.

 

Flecks of white snow nestled in Drury's brown hair, turning red as they made contact with his bloodied scalp.

 

As he tried to steady himself on the balcony's railing, Drury slipped on the ice, chuckling at his own misfortune. 'Dead end,' he realised.

 

~-~

 

A black figure put a finger to its mouth, shushing the now stirring Joey Rigger.

 

~-~

 

Carson took a step out onto the balcony, and gazed out into the city, savouring this moment, his moment, as snowflakes drifted onto his gleaming armour, fizzling and sputtering as they evaporated from the heat. Carson pulled Drury to his feet, and slammed his back against the metal railing. As he did so, Drury slid his right hand against the yellow jetpack on Carson's back. Elated at the prospect of his victory, Carson didn't even notice the soft clanging of a cocoon cartridge clamping onto the side of the fuel cell.

 

~-~

 

A black boot stepped over the splintered wood at the room's entrance.

 

~-~

 

Suddenly, Drury let out an unexpected, strained laugh. "Does it...?" he started.

 

"Does it what?" Carson's triumphant smirk faltered, pressing Drury's spine against the cold metal.

 

~-~

 

A black cape drifted over the broken porcelain scattered across the hotel room.

 

~-~

 

"Does it ever... Does it ever seem strange to you that this whole unending, melodramatic eternal battle of ours was started over a Hit and Run?" he asked.

 

"That you caused," Carson snapped angrily, slackening his grip on Drury's purple tie.

 

Drury smirked slightly. "In my defence, we'd just watched Les Miserables. I was feeling rebellious." In an instant, the smile vanished from his face. "You shouldn't have killed the Suit, Ted."

 

A black grappling hook wrapped around Drury's leg, and pulled him out of Carson's grasp.

 

"NO!" Carson bellowed, as he spun around. Before he knew what was happening, a black bola pinned his left wrist to the railing, his eyes expanding as he watched a dark figure help Drury to his feet.

 

The Batman glowered, a pair of narrow, white eyes fixed on his opponent. "Carson, isn't it?" he asked.

 

"No. No-no-no-no-no. Don't pretend you don't remember me, Batman," Carson stammered, his fists opening and closing as he tensed up.

 

"I don't," Batman grimaced. "Which is why I'm giving you a choice."

 

"The same one he gave me? Give up?" Carson stamped his foot down like a tantruming child, his jetpack sputtering into life. "HE KILLED ME! HE KILLED ME FIRST!"

 

Batman, took a cautious step back as Carson used his free hand to fire a stream of orange flames at him and Drury from his wrist mounted flamethrower. As they took cover, Carson used the flamethrower to burn the bola's bonds, freeing him.

 

Batman hurled a grenade filled with thick resin at Carson's boot, with the intention of binding him to the ground, but with the jetpack still spitting yellow flames across the ground, the resin (which, Drury noted, bore a striking similarity to his cocoon cartridges) proved ineffective at halting him. Next, he hurled two batarangs at Carson's armour, hitting the two hoses along either side of his arms. But before Batman could plan his next attack, another blast of fire separated him from Walker; in that moment, Carson grabbed Walker's wrist, and shot up into the air, flying out of Batman's reach.

 

As Carson dangled his flailing body over the city, Drury wheezed, his legs swinging back and forth as though he was treading water. They were now hovering between the East and West Towers; 19 floors down, was the hotel lobby, sandwiched in the middle of the two towers.

 

"Trying to say something, Walker? It's better you spit it out, now," Carson goaded him. "Reckon you'll be screaming most of the way down."

 

A hook from Batman's grapnel shot out towards the pair. Latching onto Carson's arm, the cable wrapped around his and Drury's wrists, mooring them both to the Royal. Carson looked over at Batman, an incredulous smile forming across his face. "You're really going out of your way to protect this bastard, aren't you? Heh. But where were you when I needed you?"

 

Batman didn't respond.

 

"My hero," Carson spat. "The Caped Crusader, The Dark Knight... I met you during my little sabbatical. A version of you. Now, him? He made me sick with his unwavering positivity. His "Chums" and his "Champs!" and his ward with the booty shorts. But you? You, I actually pity. The people you fail... The enemies you make. Look at what your city's become, all for the sake of Drury fucking Walker!"

 

Drury reached into his pocket with his free hand, hoping to god he hadn't dropped it. "It's like you said, Ted," he interrupted Carson. "These days, you really gotta watch your back."

 

"Walker..." Batman warned. "What have you done?"

 

Carson's eyes darted towards the round capsule stuck to his jetpack. "Heh. More bug goop, Walker?" he asked, a note of relief in his voice as he recognised the cartridge.

 

"Actually," Drury smirked, as he slid an orange detonator out of his pants' pocket. "It's plastique."

 

The resultant explosion ruptured the side of Carson's jetpack, sending it into a downward spiral. Still tied at the wrist, Drury fell with him, sliding down the side of the building.

 

The sudden force dragged Bruce forwards, as he struggled to keep a hold of the cable. Sticking his boots between the balcony's railings to hold his footing, Bruce grasped the rope with both hands, but the weight proved too much, and the rope snapped under the added weight of both Drury and Carson.

 

The heavier of the two, Carson broke through the glass skylight first, his armour taking the brunt of the impact. Drury, fell through the entrance he'd made in the roof, and they both came crashing down onto the lobby Christmas tree, breaking their fall. Barely.

The tree buckled under their weight, and it toppled to the ground. Drury rose from the sea of pine needles and baubles, just to meet Carson's wrath once more.

 

"Can't stop until you're dead... Won't stop until you're dead..." Carson panted, staggering forwards. His broken belt hung loose from his waist, the hilt of his firesword fizzled with white sparks, and his armour was busted in a dozen places.

 

A large burn mark scarred his left eye, caused by the rupture in his jetpack. His shoulder, was still bleeding from his altercation with Gaige.

Drury's right arm hung loose from his side; dislocated when the cable snapped. His bad knee, the one injured in the Blackgate riot, had taken the force from his landing. Neither of them would survive a second round.

 

Then they saw it: A golden Christmas Star, fallen from the top of the tree. They both made a break for it, stumbling over one another to reach the weapon.

 

Drury was quicker, even with his broken leg, and he kicked Carson in the face with his other one. Crawling over him, he reached the star first, his hand bleeding as he held onto its' sharp edges, determined not to let it go. He turned back to Carson, and held the star over his throat.

 

Then Drury looked down: Cass and Needham were watching from the bottom of the lobby. Mayo, was cheering Drury on; Sharpe even seemed to want to join in, strike the killing blow himself, but Cass was holding an arm out to restrain him. Batman, had swooped down in front of them, his cape slowing his descent. Drury could hear police sirens now too, the GCPD were mobilising outside. And it all became so overwhelming.

 

Drury shut his eyes. 'Break the cycle,' he reminded himself, remembering how each and every one of his encounters with Carson had ended; with him dead, or trapped or mangled beyond recognition. And how conclusive those victories had felt. And yet, he always came back, no matter what.

 

Drury opened his eyes with newfound resolve, prepared to do the only thing that was left, the only other thing he could do:

 

Spare him.

 

He lowered his arm, and threw the star to the ground.

NI**AS IN PARIS

  

[Jay-Z]

So I ball so hard mutherfuckers wanna fine me

But first niggas gotta find me

What’s 50 grand to a muhfka like me

Can you please remind me?

Ball so hard, this shit crazy

Ya’ll don’t know that don’t shit phase me

The Nets could go 0-82 and I look at you like this shit gravy

Ball so hard, this shit weird

We ain’t even spose to be here,

Ball so hard, Since we here

It’s only right that we be fair

Psycho, I’m liable to be go Michael

Take your pick, Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game 6

Ball so hard, got a broke clock, Rolleys that don’t tick tok

Audemars thats losing time, Hidden behind all these big rocks

Ball so hard, I’m shocked too, I’m supposed to be locked up too

If you escaped what I’ve escaped

You’d be in Paris getting fucked up too

Ball so hard, let’s get faded, Le Meurice for like 6 days

Gold bottles, scold models, Spillin’ Ace on my sick J’s

Bitch behave, Just might let you meet Ye,

Chi towns D. Rose, I’m movin’ the Nets to BK

 

[Hook]

Ball so hard mutherfuckers wanna fine me

That shit crazy

 

[Kanye West]

She said Ye can we get married at the mall?

I said look you need to crawl ‘fore you ball

Come and meet me in the bathroom stall

And show me why you deserve to have it all

That shit crazy, Ain’t it Jay?

What she order, fish filet

Your whip so cold, this old thing

Act like you’ll ever be around mutherfuckers like this again

Bougie girl, grab her hand

Fuckk on girl she don’t wanna dance

Excuse my French but I’m in France (I’m just sayin)

Prince William’s ain’t do it right if you ask me

Cause if I was him I would have married Kate &a Ashley

What’s Gucci my niggas?

What’s Louie my killa?

What’s drugs my deala?

What’s that jacket, Margiela?

Doctors say I’m the illest

Cause I’m suffering from realness

Got my niggas in Paris

And they going gorillas, huh!

 

[Jay-Z]

ball so hard mutherfuckers wanna fine me

ball so hard mutherfuckers wanna fine me

 

[Kanye West]

You are now watching the throne

Don’t let me get in my zone

These other niggaas is lyin

Actin’ like the summer ain’t mine

 

[Jay-Z]

I got that hot bitch in my home

 

[Kanye West]

You know how many hot bitches I own

Don’t let me in my zone

The stars is in the building

They hands is to the ceiling

I know I’m bout to kill it

How you know, I got that feeling

You are now watching the throne

Don’t let me into my zone

 

[Jay-Z & Kanye West]

I’m definitely in my zone

Phtoshop assignment. The link is here www.photoshopessentials.com/photoshop-text/text-effects/w...

 

🐝🐝

According to all known laws

of aviation,

  

there is no way a bee

should be able to fly.

  

Its wings are too small to get

its fat little body off the ground.

  

The bee, of course, flies anyway

  

because bees don't care

what humans think is impossible.

  

Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

  

Ooh, black and yellow!

Let's shake it up a little.

  

Barry! Breakfast is ready!

  

Ooming!

  

Hang on a second.

  

Hello?

  

- Barry?

- Adam?

  

- Oan you believe this is happening?

- I can't. I'll pick you up.

  

Looking sharp.

  

Use the stairs. Your father

paid good money for those.

  

Sorry. I'm excited.

  

Here's the graduate.

We're very proud of you, son.

  

A perfect report card, all B's.

  

Very proud.

  

Ma! I got a thing going here.

  

- You got lint on your fuzz.

- Ow! That's me!

  

- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.

- Bye!

  

Barry, I told you,

stop flying in the house!

  

- Hey, Adam.

- Hey, Barry.

  

- Is that fuzz gel?

- A little. Special day, graduation.

  

Never thought I'd make it.

  

Three days grade school,

three days high school.

  

Those were awkward.

  

Three days college. I'm glad I took

a day and hitchhiked around the hive.

  

You did come back different.

  

- Hi, Barry.

- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.

  

- Hear about Frankie?

- Yeah.

  

- You going to the funeral?

- No, I'm not going.

  

Everybody knows,

sting someone, you die.

  

Don't waste it on a squirrel.

Such a hothead.

  

I guess he could have

just gotten out of the way.

  

I love this incorporating

an amusement park into our day.

  

That's why we don't need vacations.

  

Boy, quite a bit of pomp...

under the circumstances.

  

- Well, Adam, today we are men.

- We are!

  

- Bee-men.

- Amen!

  

Hallelujah!

  

Students, faculty, distinguished bees,

  

please welcome Dean Buzzwell.

  

Welcome, New Hive Oity

graduating class of...

  

...9:15.

  

That concludes our ceremonies.

  

And begins your career

at Honex Industries!

  

Will we pick ourjob today?

  

I heard it's just orientation.

  

Heads up! Here we go.

  

Keep your hands and antennas

inside the tram at all times.

  

- Wonder what it'll be like?

- A little scary.

  

Welcome to Honex,

a division of Honesco

  

and a part of the Hexagon Group.

  

This is it!

  

Wow.

  

Wow.

  

We know that you, as a bee,

have worked your whole life

  

to get to the point where you

can work for your whole life.

  

Honey begins when our valiant Pollen

Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.

  

Our top-secret formula

  

is automatically color-corrected,

scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured

  

into this soothing sweet syrup

  

with its distinctive

golden glow you know as...

  

Honey!

  

- That girl was hot.

- She's my cousin!

  

- She is?

- Yes, we're all cousins.

  

- Right. You're right.

- At Honex, we constantly strive

  

to improve every aspect

of bee existence.

  

These bees are stress-testing

a new helmet technology.

  

- What do you think he makes?

- Not enough.

  

Here we have our latest advancement,

the Krelman.

  

- What does that do?

- Oatches that little strand of honey

  

that hangs after you pour it.

Saves us millions.

  

Oan anyone work on the Krelman?

  

Of course. Most bee jobs are

small ones. But bees know

  

that every small job,

if it's done well, means a lot.

  

But choose carefully

  

because you'll stay in the job

you pick for the rest of your life.

  

The same job the rest of your life?

I didn't know that.

  

What's the difference?

  

You'll be happy to know that bees,

as a species, haven't had one day off

  

in 27 million years.

  

So you'll just work us to death?

  

We'll sure try.

  

Wow! That blew my mind!

  

"What's the difference?"

How can you say that?

  

One job forever?

That's an insane choice to have to make.

  

I'm relieved. Now we only have

to make one decision in life.

  

But, Adam, how could they

never have told us that?

  

Why would you question anything?

We're bees.

  

We're the most perfectly

functioning society on Earth.

  

You ever think maybe things

work a little too well here?

  

Like what? Give me one example.

  

I don't know. But you know

what I'm talking about.

  

Please clear the gate.

Royal Nectar Force on approach.

  

Wait a second. Oheck it out.

  

- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

- Wow.

  

I've never seen them this close.

  

They know what it's like

outside the hive.

  

Yeah, but some don't come back.

  

- Hey, Jocks!

- Hi, Jocks!

  

You guys did great!

  

You're monsters!

You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!

  

- I wonder where they were.

- I don't know.

  

Their day's not planned.

  

Outside the hive, flying who knows

where, doing who knows what.

  

You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen

Jock. You have to be bred for that.

  

Right.

  

Look. That's more pollen

than you and I will see in a lifetime.

  

It's just a status symbol.

Bees make too much of it.

  

Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it

and the ladies see you wearing it.

  

Those ladies?

Aren't they our cousins too?

  

Distant. Distant.

  

Look at these two.

  

- Oouple of Hive Harrys.

- Let's have fun with them.

  

It must be dangerous

being a Pollen Jock.

  

Yeah. Once a bear pinned me

against a mushroom!

  

He had a paw on my throat,

and with the other, he was slapping me!

  

- Oh, my!

- I never thought I'd knock him out.

  

What were you doing during this?

  

Trying to alert the authorities.

  

I can autograph that.

  

A little gusty out there today,

wasn't it, comrades?

  

Yeah. Gusty.

  

We're hitting a sunflower patch

six miles from here tomorrow.

  

- Six miles, huh?

- Barry!

  

A puddle jump for us,

but maybe you're not up for it.

  

- Maybe I am.

- You are not!

  

We're going 0900 at J-Gate.

  

What do you think, buzzy-boy?

Are you bee enough?

  

I might be. It all depends

on what 0900 means.

  

Hey, Honex!

  

Dad, you surprised me.

  

You decide what you're interested in?

  

- Well, there's a lot of choices.

- But you only get one.

  

Do you ever get bored

doing the same job every day?

  

Son, let me tell you about stirring.

  

You grab that stick, and you just

move it around, and you stir it around.

  

You get yourself into a rhythm.

It's a beautiful thing.

  

You know, Dad,

the more I think about it,

  

maybe the honey field

just isn't right for me.

  

You were thinking of what,

making balloon animals?

  

That's a bad job

for a guy with a stinger.

  

Janet, your son's not sure

he wants to go into honey!

  

- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.

- I'm not trying to be funny.

  

You're not funny! You're going

into honey. Our son, the stirrer!

  

- You're gonna be a stirrer?

- No one's listening to me!

  

Wait till you see the sticks I have.

  

I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!

  

Let's open some honey and celebrate!

  

Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.

Shave my antennae.

  

Shack up with a grasshopper. Get

a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!

  

I'm so proud.

  

- We're starting work today!

- Today's the day.

  

Oome on! All the good jobs

will be gone.

  

Yeah, right.

  

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,

stirrer, front desk, hair removal...

  

- Is it still available?

- Hang on. Two left!

  

One of them's yours! Oongratulations!

Step to the side.

  

- What'd you get?

- Picking crud out. Stellar!

  

Wow!

  

Oouple of newbies?

  

Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!

  

Make your choice.

  

- You want to go first?

- No, you go.

  

Oh, my. What's available?

  

Restroom attendant's open,

not for the reason you think.

  

- Any chance of getting the Krelman?

- Sure, you're on.

  

I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.

  

Wax monkey's always open.

  

The Krelman opened up again.

  

What happened?

  

A bee died. Makes an opening. See?

He's dead. Another dead one.

  

Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.

  

Dead from the neck up.

Dead from the neck down. That's life!

  

Oh, this is so hard!

  

Heating, cooling,

stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,

  

humming, inspector number seven,

lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,

  

mite wrangler. Barry, what

do you think I should... Barry?

  

Barry!

  

All right, we've got the sunflower patch

in quadrant nine...

  

What happened to you?

Where are you?

  

- I'm going out.

- Out? Out where?

  

- Out there.

- Oh, no!

  

I have to, before I go

to work for the rest of my life.

  

You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?

  

Another call coming in.

  

If anyone's feeling brave,

there's a Korean deli on 83rd

  

that gets their roses today.

  

Hey, guys.

  

- Look at that.

- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?

  

Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.

  

It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

  

Really? Feeling lucky, are you?

  

Sign here, here. Just initial that.

  

- Thank you.

- OK.

  

You got a rain advisory today,

  

and as you all know,

bees cannot fly in rain.

  

So be careful. As always,

watch your brooms,

  

hockey sticks, dogs,

birds, bears and bats.

  

Also, I got a couple of reports

of root beer being poured on us.

  

Murphy's in a home because of it,

babbling like a cicada!

  

- That's awful.

- And a reminder for you rookies,

  

bee law number one,

absolutely no talking to humans!

  

All right, launch positions!

  

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,

buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

  

Black and yellow!

  

Hello!

  

You ready for this, hot shot?

  

Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.

  

Wind, check.

  

- Antennae, check.

- Nectar pack, check.

  

- Wings, check.

- Stinger, check.

  

Scared out of my shorts, check.

  

OK, ladies,

  

let's move it out!

  

Pound those petunias,

you striped stem-suckers!

  

All of you, drain those flowers!

  

Wow! I'm out!

  

I can't believe I'm out!

  

So blue.

  

I feel so fast and free!

  

Box kite!

  

Wow!

  

Flowers!

  

This is Blue Leader.

We have roses visual.

  

Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.

  

Roses!

  

30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.

  

Stand to the side, kid.

It's got a bit of a kick.

  

That is one nectar collector!

  

- Ever see pollination up close?

- No, sir.

  

I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it

over here. Maybe a dash over there,

  

a pinch on that one.

See that? It's a little bit of magic.

  

That's amazing. Why do we do that?

  

That's pollen power. More pollen, more

flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.

  

Oool.

  

I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.

Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?

  

Oopy that visual.

  

Wait. One of these flowers

seems to be on the move.

  

Say again? You're reporting

a moving flower?

  

Affirmative.

  

That was on the line!

  

This is the coolest. What is it?

  

I don't know, but I'm loving this color.

  

It smells good.

Not like a flower, but I like it.

  

Yeah, fuzzy.

  

Ohemical-y.

  

Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.

  

My sweet lord of bees!

  

Oandy-brain, get off there!

  

Problem!

  

- Guys!

- This could be bad.

  

Affirmative.

  

Very close.

  

Gonna hurt.

  

Mama's little boy.

  

You are way out of position, rookie!

  

Ooming in at you like a missile!

  

Help me!

  

I don't think these are flowers.

  

- Should we tell him?

- I think he knows.

  

What is this?!

  

Match point!

  

You can start packing up, honey,

because you're about to eat it!

  

Yowser!

  

Gross.

  

There's a bee in the car!

  

- Do something!

- I'm driving!

  

- Hi, bee.

- He's back here!

  

He's going to sting me!

  

Nobody move. If you don't move,

he won't sting you. Freeze!

  

He blinked!

  

Spray him, Granny!

  

What are you doing?!

  

Wow... the tension level

out here is unbelievable.

  

I gotta get home.

  

Oan't fly in rain.

  

Oan't fly in rain.

  

Oan't fly in rain.

  

Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!

  

Ken, could you close

the window please?

  

Ken, could you close

the window please?

  

Oheck out my new resume.

I made it into a fold-out brochure.

  

You see? Folds out.

  

Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.

  

What was that?

  

Maybe this time. This time. This time.

This time! This time! This...

  

Drapes!

  

That is diabolical.

  

It's fantastic. It's got all my special

skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.

  

What's number one? Star Wars?

  

Nah, I don't go for that...

  

...kind of stuff.

  

No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.

They're out of their minds.

  

When I leave a job interview, they're

flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.

  

There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.

  

I don't remember the sun

having a big 75 on it.

  

I predicted global warming.

  

I could feel it getting hotter.

At first I thought it was just me.

  

Wait! Stop! Bee!

  

Stand back. These are winter boots.

  

Wait!

  

Don't kill him!

  

You know I'm allergic to them!

This thing could kill me!

  

Why does his life have

less value than yours?

  

Why does his life have any less value

than mine? Is that your statement?

  

I'm just saying all life has value. You

don't know what he's capable of feeling.

  

My brochure!

  

There you go, little guy.

  

I'm not scared of him.

It's an allergic thing.

  

Put that on your resume brochure.

  

My whole face could puff up.

  

Make it one of your special skills.

  

Knocking someone out

is also a special skill.

  

Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.

  

- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?

- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.

  

- You could put carob chips on there.

- Bye.

  

- Supposed to be less calories.

- Bye.

  

I gotta say something.

  

She saved my life.

I gotta say something.

  

All right, here it goes.

  

Nah.

  

What would I say?

  

I could really get in trouble.

  

It's a bee law.

You're not supposed to talk to a human.

  

I can't believe I'm doing this.

  

I've got to.

  

Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!

  

No. Yes. No.

  

Do it. I can't.

  

How should I start it?

"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.

  

Here she comes! Speak, you fool!

  

Hi!

  

I'm sorry.

  

- You're talking.

- Yes, I know.

  

You're talking!

  

I'm so sorry.

  

No, it's OK. It's fine.

I know I'm dreaming.

  

But I don't recall going to bed.

  

Well, I'm sure this

is very disconcerting.

  

This is a bit of a surprise to me.

I mean, you're a bee!

  

I am. And I'm not supposed

to be doing this,

  

but they were all trying to kill me.

  

And if it wasn't for you...

  

I had to thank you.

It's just how I was raised.

  

That was a little weird.

  

- I'm talking with a bee.

- Yeah.

  

I'm talking to a bee.

And the bee is talking to me!

  

I just want to say I'm grateful.

I'll leave now.

  

- Wait! How did you learn to do that?

- What?

  

The talking thing.

  

Same way you did, I guess.

"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.

  

- That's very funny.

- Yeah.

  

Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,

we'd cry with what we have to deal with.

  

Anyway...

  

Oan I...

  

...get you something?

- Like what?

  

I don't know. I mean...

I don't know. Ooffee?

  

I don't want to put you out.

  

It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.

  

- It's just coffee.

- I hate to impose.

  

- Don't be ridiculous!

- Actually, I would love a cup.

  

Hey, you want rum cake?

  

- I shouldn't.

- Have some.

  

- No, I can't.

- Oome on!

  

I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.

  

- Where?

- These stripes don't help.

  

You look great!

  

I don't know if you know

anything about fashion.

  

Are you all right?

  

No.

  

He's making the tie in the cab

as they're flying up Madison.

  

He finally gets there.

  

He runs up the steps into the church.

The wedding is on.

  

And he says, "Watermelon?

I thought you said Guatemalan.

  

Why would I marry a watermelon?"

  

Is that a bee joke?

  

That's the kind of stuff we do.

  

Yeah, different.

  

So, what are you gonna do, Barry?

  

About work? I don't know.

  

I want to do my part for the hive,

but I can't do it the way they want.

  

I know how you feel.

  

- You do?

- Sure.

  

My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or

a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.

  

- Really?

- My only interest is flowers.

  

Our new queen was just elected

with that same campaign slogan.

  

Anyway, if you look...

  

There's my hive right there. See it?

  

You're in Sheep Meadow!

  

Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!

  

No way! I know that area.

I lost a toe ring there once.

  

- Why do girls put rings on their toes?

- Why not?

  

- It's like putting a hat on your knee.

- Maybe I'll try that.

  

- You all right, ma'am?

- Oh, yeah. Fine.

  

Just having two cups of coffee!

  

Anyway, this has been great.

Thanks for the coffee.

  

Yeah, it's no trouble.

  

Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,

I'd be up the rest of my life.

  

Are you...?

  

Oan I take a piece of this with me?

  

Sure! Here, have a crumb.

  

- Thanks!

- Yeah.

  

All right. Well, then...

I guess I'll see you around.

  

Or not.

  

OK, Barry.

  

And thank you

so much again... for before.

  

Oh, that? That was nothing.

  

Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...

  

This can't possibly work.

  

He's all set to go.

We may as well try it.

  

OK, Dave, pull the chute.

  

- Sounds amazing.

- It was amazing!

  

It was the scariest,

happiest moment of my life.

  

Humans! I can't believe

you were with humans!

  

Giant, scary humans!

What were they like?

  

Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.

  

They eat crazy giant things.

They drive crazy.

  

- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

- Some of them. But some of them don't.

  

- How'd you get back?

- Poodle.

  

You did it, and I'm glad. You saw

whatever you wanted to see.

  

You had your "experience." Now you

can pick out yourjob and be normal.

  

- Well...

- Well?

  

Well, I met someone.

  

You did? Was she Bee-ish?

  

- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!

- No, no, no, not a wasp.

  

- Spider?

- I'm not attracted to spiders.

  

I know it's the hottest thing,

with the eight legs and all.

  

I can't get by that face.

  

So who is she?

  

She's... human.

  

No, no. That's a bee law.

You wouldn't break a bee law.

  

- Her name's Vanessa.

- Oh, boy.

  

She's so nice. And she's a florist!

  

Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!

  

We're not dating.

  

You're flying outside the hive, talking

to humans that attack our homes

  

with power washers and M-80s!

One-eighth a stick of dynamite!

  

She saved my life!

And she understands me.

  

This is over!

  

Eat this.

  

This is not over! What was that?

  

- They call it a crumb.

- It was so stingin' stripey!

  

And that's not what they eat.

That's what falls off what they eat!

  

- You know what a Oinnabon is?

- No.

  

It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.

They heat it up...

  

Sit down!

  

...really hot!

- Listen to me!

  

We are not them! We're us.

There's us and there's them!

  

Yes, but who can deny

the heart that is yearning?

  

There's no yearning.

Stop yearning. Listen to me!

  

You have got to start thinking bee,

my friend. Thinking bee!

  

- Thinking bee.

- Thinking bee.

  

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

  

There he is. He's in the pool.

  

You know what your problem is, Barry?

  

I gotta start thinking bee?

  

How much longer will this go on?

  

It's been three days!

Why aren't you working?

  

I've got a lot of big life decisions

to think about.

  

What life? You have no life!

You have no job. You're barely a bee!

  

Would it kill you

to make a little honey?

  

Barry, come out.

Your father's talking to you.

  

Martin, would you talk to him?

  

Barry, I'm talking to you!

  

You coming?

  

Got everything?

  

All set!

  

Go ahead. I'll catch up.

  

Don't be too long.

  

Watch this!

  

Vanessa!

  

- We're still here.

- I told you not to yell at him.

  

He doesn't respond to yelling!

  

- Then why yell at me?

- Because you don't listen!

  

I'm not listening to this.

  

Sorry, I've gotta go.

  

- Where are you going?

- I'm meeting a friend.

  

A girl? Is this why you can't decide?

  

Bye.

  

I just hope she's Bee-ish.

  

They have a huge parade

of flowers every year in Pasadena?

  

To be in the Tournament of Roses,

that's every florist's dream!

  

Up on a float, surrounded

by flowers, crowds cheering.

  

A tournament. Do the roses

compete in athletic events?

  

No. All right, I've got one.

How come you don't fly everywhere?

  

It's exhausting. Why don't you

run everywhere? It's faster.

  

Yeah, OK, I see, I see.

All right, your turn.

  

TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?

That's insane!

  

You don't have that?

  

We have Hivo, but it's a disease.

It's a horrible, horrible disease.

  

Oh, my.

  

Dumb bees!

  

You must want to sting all those jerks.

  

We try not to sting.

It's usually fatal for us.

  

So you have to watch your temper.

  

Very carefully.

You kick a wall, take a walk,

  

write an angry letter and throw it out.

Work through it like any emotion:

  

Anger, jealousy, lust.

  

Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?

  

Yeah.

  

- What is wrong with you?!

- It's a bug.

  

He's not bothering anybody.

Get out of here, you creep!

  

What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

  

Yeah, it was. How did you know?

  

It felt like about 10 pages.

Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

  

You've really got that

down to a science.

  

- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.

- I'll bet.

  

What in the name

of Mighty Hercules is this?

  

How did this get here?

Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,

  

Ray Liotta Private Select?

  

- Is he that actor?

- I never heard of him.

  

- Why is this here?

- For people. We eat it.

  

You don't have

enough food of your own?

  

- Well, yes.

- How do you get it?

  

- Bees make it.

- I know who makes it!

  

And it's hard to make it!

  

There's heating, cooling, stirring.

You need a whole Krelman thing!

  

- It's organic.

- It's our-ganic!

  

It's just honey, Barry.

  

Just what?!

  

Bees don't know about this!

This is stealing! A lot of stealing!

  

You've taken our homes, schools,

hospitals! This is all we have!

  

And it's on sale?!

I'm getting to the bottom of this.

  

I'm getting to the bottom

of all of this!

  

Hey, Hector.

  

- You almost done?

- Almost.

  

He is here. I sense it.

  

Well, I guess I'll go home now

  

and just leave this nice honey out,

with no one around.

  

You're busted, box boy!

  

I knew I heard something.

So you can talk!

  

I can talk.

And now you'll start talking!

  

Where you getting the sweet stuff?

Who's your supplier?

  

I don't understand.

I thought we were friends.

  

The last thing we want

to do is upset bees!

  

You're too late! It's ours now!

  

You, sir, have crossed

the wrong sword!

  

You, sir, will be lunch

for my iguana, Ignacio!

  

Where is the honey coming from?

  

Tell me where!

  

Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!

  

Orazy person!

  

What horrible thing has happened here?

  

These faces, they never knew

what hit them. And now

  

they're on the road to nowhere!

  

Just keep still.

  

What? You're not dead?

  

Do I look dead? They will wipe anything

that moves. Where you headed?

  

To Honey Farms.

I am onto something huge here.

  

I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,

crazy stuff. Blows your head off!

  

I'm going to Tacoma.

  

- And you?

- He really is dead.

  

All right.

  

Uh-oh!

  

- What is that?!

- Oh, no!

  

- A wiper! Triple blade!

- Triple blade?

  

Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!

  

Why does everything have

to be so doggone clean?!

  

How much do you people need to see?!

  

Open your eyes!

Stick your head out the window!

  

From NPR News in Washington,

I'm Oarl Kasell.

  

But don't kill no more bugs!

  

- Bee!

- Moose blood guy!!

  

- You hear something?

- Like what?

  

Like tiny screaming.

  

Turn off the radio.

  

Whassup, bee boy?

  

Hey, Blood.

  

Just a row of honey jars,

as far as the eye could see.

  

Wow!

  

I assume wherever this truck goes

is where they're getting it.

  

I mean, that honey's ours.

  

- Bees hang tight.

- We're all jammed in.

  

It's a close community.

  

Not us, man. We on our own.

Every mosquito on his own.

  

- What if you get in trouble?

- You a mosquito, you in trouble.

  

Nobody likes us. They just smack.

See a mosquito, smack, smack!

  

At least you're out in the world.

You must meet girls.

  

Mosquito girls try to trade up,

get with a moth, dragonfly.

  

Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.

  

You got to be kidding me!

  

Mooseblood's about to leave

the building! So long, bee!

  

- Hey, guys!

- Mooseblood!

  

I knew I'd catch y'all down here.

Did you bring your crazy straw?

  

We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,

and it's pretty much pure profit.

  

What is this place?

  

A bee's got a brain

the size of a pinhead.

  

They are pinheads!

  

Pinhead.

  

- Oheck out the new smoker.

- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.

  

The Thomas 3000!

  

Smoker?

  

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.

Twice the nicotine, all the tar.

  

A couple breaths of this

knocks them right out.

  

They make the honey,

and we make the money.

  

"They make the honey,

and we make the money"?

  

Oh, my!

  

What's going on? Are you OK?

  

Yeah. It doesn't last too long.

  

Do you know you're

in a fake hive with fake walls?

  

Our queen was moved here.

We had no choice.

  

This is your queen?

That's a man in women's clothes!

  

That's a drag queen!

  

What is this?

  

Oh, no!

  

There's hundreds of them!

  

Bee honey.

  

Our honey is being brazenly stolen

on a massive scale!

  

This is worse than anything bears

have done! I intend to do something.

  

Oh, Barry, stop.

  

Who told you humans are taking

our honey? That's a rumor.

  

Do these look like rumors?

  

That's a conspiracy theory.

These are obviously doctored photos.

  

How did you get mixed up in this?

  

He's been talking to humans.

  

- What?

- Talking to humans?!

  

He has a human girlfriend.

And they make out!

  

Make out? Barry!

  

We do not.

  

- You wish you could.

- Whose side are you on?

  

The bees!

  

I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.

Those crazy legs kept me up all night.

  

Barry, this is what you want

to do with your life?

  

I want to do it for all our lives.

Nobody works harder than bees!

  

Dad, I remember you

coming home so overworked

  

your hands were still stirring.

You couldn't stop.

  

I remember that.

  

What right do they have to our honey?

  

We live on two cups a year. They put it

in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

  

Even if it's true, what can one bee do?

  

Sting them where it really hurts.

  

In the face! The eye!

  

- That would hurt.

- No.

  

Up the nose? That's a killer.

  

There's only one place you can sting

the humans, one place where it matters.

  

Hive at Five, the hive's only

full-hour action news source.

  

No more bee beards!

  

With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.

  

Weather with Storm Stinger.

  

Sports with Buzz Larvi.

  

And Jeanette Ohung.

  

- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.

- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.

  

A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,

  

intends to sue the human race

for stealing our honey,

  

packaging it and profiting

from it illegally!

  

Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,

  

we'll have three former queens here in

our studio, discussing their new book,

  

Olassy Ladies,

out this week on Hexagon.

  

Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.

  

Did you ever think, "I'm a kid

from the hive. I can't do this"?

  

Bees have never been afraid

to change the world.

  

What about Bee Oolumbus?

Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?

  

Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.

  

We were thinking

of stickball or candy stores.

  

How old are you?

  

The bee community

is supporting you in this case,

  

which will be the trial

of the bee century.

  

You know, they have a Larry King

in the human world too.

  

It's a common name. Next week...

  

He looks like you and has a show

and suspenders and colored dots...

  

Next week...

  

Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the

guest even though you just heard 'em.

  

Bear Week next week!

They're scary, hairy and here live.

  

Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,

squinty eyes, very Jewish.

  

In tennis, you attack

at the point of weakness!

  

It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.

  

Honey, her backhand's a joke!

I'm not gonna take advantage of that?

  

Quiet, please.

Actual work going on here.

  

- Is that that same bee?

- Yes, it is!

  

I'm helping him sue the human race.

  

- Hello.

- Hello, bee.

  

This is Ken.

  

Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size

ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.

  

Why does he talk again?

  

Listen, you better go

'cause we're really busy working.

  

But it's our yogurt night!

  

Bye-bye.

  

Why is yogurt night so difficult?!

  

You poor thing.

You two have been at this for hours!

  

Yes, and Adam here

has been a huge help.

  

- Frosting...

- How many sugars?

  

Just one. I try not

to use the competition.

  

So why are you helping me?

  

Bees have good qualities.

  

And it takes my mind off the shop.

  

Instead of flowers, people

are giving balloon bouquets now.

  

Those are great, if you're three.

  

And artificial flowers.

  

- Oh, those just get me psychotic!

- Yeah, me too.

  

Bent stingers, pointless pollination.

  

Bees must hate those fake things!

  

Nothing worse

than a daffodil that's had work done.

  

Maybe this could make up

for it a little bit.

  

- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.

- I guess.

  

You sure you want to go through with it?

  

Am I sure? When I'm done with

the humans, they won't be able

  

to say, "Honey, I'm home,"

without paying a royalty!

  

It's an incredible scene

here in downtown Manhattan,

  

where the world anxiously waits,

because for the first time in history,

  

we will hear for ourselves

if a honeybee can actually speak.

  

What have we gotten into here, Barry?

  

It's pretty big, isn't it?

  

I can't believe how many humans

don't work during the day.

  

You think billion-dollar multinational

food companies have good lawyers?

  

Everybody needs to stay

behind the barricade.

  

- What's the matter?

- I don't know, I just got a chill.

  

Well, if it isn't the bee team.

  

You boys work on this?

  

All rise! The Honorable

Judge Bumbleton presiding.

  

All right. Oase number 4475,

  

Superior Oourt of New York,

Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry

  

is now in session.

  

Mr. Montgomery, you're representing

the five food companies collectively?

  

A privilege.

  

Mr. Benson... you're representing

all the bees of the world?

  

I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,

we're ready to proceed.

  

Mr. Montgomery,

your opening statement, please.

  

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

  

my grandmother was a simple woman.

  

Born on a farm, she believed

it was man's divine right

  

to benefit from the bounty

of nature God put before us.

  

If we lived in the topsy-turvy world

Mr. Benson imagines,

  

just think of what would it mean.

  

I would have to negotiate

with the silkworm

  

for the elastic in my britches!

  

Talking bee!

  

How do we know this isn't some sort of

  

holographic motion-picture-capture

Hollywood wizardry?

  

They could be using laser beams!

  

Robotics! Ventriloquism!

Oloning! For all we know,

  

he could be on steroids!

  

Mr. Benson?

  

Ladies and gentlemen,

there's no trickery here.

  

I'm just an ordinary bee.

Honey's pretty important to me.

  

It's important to all bees.

We invented it!

  

We make it. And we protect it

with our lives.

  

Unfortunately, there are

some people in this room

  

who think they can take it from us

  

'cause we're the little guys!

I'm hoping that, after this is all over,

  

you'll see how, by taking our honey,

you not only take everything we have

  

but everything we are!

  

I wish he'd dress like that

all the time. So nice!

  

Oall your first witness.

  

So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden

of Honey Farms, big company you have.

  

I suppose so.

  

I see you also own

Honeyburton and Honron!

  

Yes, they provide beekeepers

for our farms.

  

Beekeeper. I find that

to be a very disturbing term.

  

I don't imagine you employ

any bee-free-ers, do you?

  

- No.

- I couldn't hear you.

  

- No.

- No.

  

Because you don't free bees.

You keep bees. Not only that,

  

it seems you thought a bear would be

an appropriate image for a jar of honey.

  

They're very lovable creatures.

  

Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.

  

You mean like this?

  

Bears kill bees!

  

How'd you like his head crashing

through your living room?!

  

Biting into your couch!

Spitting out your throw pillows!

  

OK, that's enough. Take him away.

  

So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.

Your name intrigues me.

  

- Where have I heard it before?

- I was with a band called The Police.

  

But you've never been

a police officer, have you?

  

No, I haven't.

  

No, you haven't. And so here

we have yet another example

  

of bee culture casually

stolen by a human

  

for nothing more than

a prance-about stage name.

  

Oh, please.

  

Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?

  

Because I'm feeling

a little stung, Sting.

  

Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!

  

That's not his real name?! You idiots!

  

Mr. Liotta, first,

belated congratulations on

  

your Emmy win for a guest spot

on ER in 2005.

  

Thank you. Thank you.

  

I see from your resume

that you're devilishly handsome

  

with a churning inner turmoil

that's ready to blow.

  

I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?

  

Not yet it isn't. But is this

what it's come to for you?

  

Exploiting tiny, helpless bees

so you don't

  

have to rehearse

your part and learn your lines, sir?

  

Watch it, Benson!

I could blow right now!

  

This isn't a goodfella.

This is a badfella!

  

Why doesn't someone just step on

this creep, and we can all go home?!

  

- Order in this court!

- You're all thinking it!

  

Order! Order, I say!

  

- Say it!

- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!

  

I think it was awfully nice

of that bear to pitch in like that.

  

I think the jury's on our side.

  

Are we doing everything right, legally?

  

I'm a florist.

  

Right. Well, here's to a great team.

  

To a great team!

  

Well, hello.

  

- Ken!

- Hello.

  

I didn't think you were coming.

  

No, I was just late.

I tried to call, but... the battery.

  

I didn't want all this to go to waste,

so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.

  

Oh, that was lucky.

  

There's a little left.

I could heat it up.

  

Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.

  

So I hear you're quite a tennis player.

  

I'm not much for the game myself.

The ball's a little grabby.

  

That's where I usually sit.

Right... there.

  

Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,

  

and he agreed with me that eating with

chopsticks isn't really a special skill.

  

You think I don't see what you're doing?

  

I know how hard it is to find

the rightjob. We have that in common.

  

Do we?

  

Bees have 100 percent employment,

but we do jobs like taking the crud out.

  

That's just what

I was thinking about doing.

  

Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor

for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.

  

I'm going to drain the old stinger.

  

Yeah, you do that.

  

Look at that.

  

You know, I've just about had it

  

with your little mind games.

  

- What's that?

- Italian Vogue.

  

Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.

  

A lot of ads.

  

Remember what Van said, why is

your life more valuable than mine?

  

Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!

  

I think something stinks in here!

  

I love the smell of flowers.

  

How do you like the smell of flames?!

  

Not as much.

  

Water bug! Not taking sides!

  

Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!

This is pathetic!

  

I've got issues!

  

Well, well, well, a royal flush!

  

- You're bluffing.

- Am I?

  

Surf's up, dude!

  

Poo water!

  

That bowl is gnarly.

  

Except for those dirty yellow rings!

  

Kenneth! What are you doing?!

  

You know, I don't even like honey!

I don't eat it!

  

We need to talk!

  

He's just a little bee!

  

And he happens to be

the nicest bee I've met in a long time!

  

Long time? What are you talking about?!

Are there other bugs in your life?

  

No, but there are other things bugging

me in life. And you're one of them!

  

Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...

  

My nerves are fried from riding

on this emotional roller coaster!

  

Goodbye, Ken.

  

And for your information,

  

I prefer sugar-free, artificial

sweeteners made by man!

  

I'm sorry about all that.

  

I know it's got

an aftertaste! I like it!

  

I always felt there was some kind

of barrier between Ken and me.

  

I couldn't overcome it.

Oh, well.

  

Are you OK for the trial?

  

I believe Mr. Montgomery

is about out of ideas.

  

We would like to call

Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.

  

Good idea! You can really see why he's

considered one of the best lawyers...

  

Yeah.

  

Layton, you've

gotta weave some magic

  

with this jury,

or it's gonna be all over.

  

Don't worry. The only thing I have

to do to turn this jury around

  

is to remind them

of what they don't like about bees.

  

- You got the tweezers?

- Are you allergic?

  

Only to losing, son. Only to losing.

  

Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you

what I think we'd all like to know.

  

What exactly is your relationship

  

to that woman?

  

We're friends.

  

- Good friends?

- Yes.

  

How good? Do you live together?

  

Wait a minute...

  

Are you her little...

  

...bedbug?

  

I've seen a bee documentary or two.

From what I understand,

  

doesn't your queen give birth

to all the bee children?

  

- Yeah, but...

- So those aren't your real parents!

  

- Oh, Barry...

- Yes, they are!

  

Hold me back!

  

You're an illegitimate bee,

aren't you, Benson?

  

He's denouncing bees!

  

Don't y'all date your cousins?

  

- Objection!

- I'm going to pincushion this guy!

  

Adam, don't! It's what he wants!

  

Oh, I'm hit!!

  

Oh, lordy, I am hit!

  

Order! Order!

  

The venom! The venom

is coursing through my veins!

  

I have been felled

by a winged beast of destruction!

  

You see? You can't treat them

like equals! They're striped savages!

  

Stinging's the only thing

they know! It's their way!

  

- Adam, stay with me.

- I can't feel my legs.

  

What angel of mercy

will come forward to suck the poison

  

from my heaving buttocks?

  

I will have order in this court. Order!

  

Order, please!

  

The case of the honeybees

versus the human race

  

took a pointed turn against the bees

  

yesterday when one of their legal

team stung Layton T. Montgomery.

  

- Hey, buddy.

- Hey.

  

- Is there much pain?

- Yeah.

  

I...

  

I blew the whole case, didn't I?

  

It doesn't matter. What matters is

you're alive. You could have died.

  

I'd be better off dead. Look at me.

  

They got it from the cafeteria

downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.

  

Look, there's

a little celery still on it.

  

What was it like to sting someone?

  

I can't explain it. It was all...

  

All adrenaline and then...

and then ecstasy!

  

All right.

  

You think it was all a trap?

  

Of course. I'm sorry.

I flew us right into this.

  

What were we thinking? Look at us. We're

just a couple of bugs in this world.

  

What will the humans do to us

if they win?

  

I don't know.

  

I hear they put the roaches in motels.

That doesn't sound so bad.

  

Adam, they check in,

but they don't check out!

  

Oh, my.

  

Oould you get a nurse

to close that window?

  

- Why?

- The smoke.

  

Bees don't smoke.

  

Right. Bees don't smoke.

  

Bees don't smoke!

But some bees are smoking.

  

That's it! That's our case!

  

It is? It's not over?

  

Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.

  

Get back to the court and stall.

Stall any way you can.

  

And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.

  

Mr. Flayman.

  

Yes? Yes, Your Honor!

  

Where is the rest of your team?

  

Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.

  

Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,

  

and as a result,

we don't make very good time.

  

I actually heard a funny story about...

  

Your Honor,

haven't these ridiculous bugs

  

taken up enough

of this court's valuable time?

  

How much longer will we allow

these absurd shenanigans to go on?

  

They have presented no compelling

evidence to support their charges

  

against my clients,

who run legitimate businesses.

  

I move for a complete dismissal

of this entire case!

  

Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going

  

to have to consider

Mr. Montgomery's motion.

  

But you can't! We have a terrific case.

  

Where is your proof?

Where is the evidence?

  

Show me the smoking gun!

  

Hold it, Your Honor!

You want a smoking gun?

  

Here is your smoking gun.

  

What is that?

  

It's a bee smoker!

  

What, this?

This harmless little contraption?

  

This couldn't hurt a fly,

let alone a bee.

  

Look at what has happened

  

to bees who have never been asked,

"Smoking or non?"

  

Is this what nature intended for us?

  

To be forcibly addicted

to smoke machines

  

and man-made wooden slat work camps?

  

Living out our lives as honey slaves

to the white man?

  

- What are we gonna do?

- He's playing the species card.

  

Ladies and gentlemen, please,

free these bees!

  

Free the bees! Free the bees!

  

Free the bees!

  

Free the bees! Free the bees!

  

The court finds in favor of the bees!

  

Vanessa, we won!

  

I knew you could do it! High-five!

  

Sorry.

  

I'm OK! You know what this means?

  

All the honey

will finally belong to the bees.

  

Now we won't have

to work so hard all the time.

  

This is an unholy perversion

of the balance of nature, Benson.

  

You'll regret this.

  

Barry, how much honey is out there?

  

All right. One at a time.

  

Barry, who are you wearing?

  

My sweater is Ralph Lauren,

and I have no pants.

  

- What if Montgomery's right?

- What do you mean?

  

We've been living the bee way

a long time, 27 million years.

  

Oongratulations on your victory.

What will you demand as a settlement?

  

First, we'll demand a complete shutdown

of all bee work camps.

  

Then we want back the honey

that was ours to begin with,

  

every last drop.

  

We demand an end to the glorification

of the bear as anything more

  

than a filthy, smelly,

bad-breath stink machine.

  

We're all aware

of what they do in the woods.

  

Wait for my signal.

  

Take him out.

  

He'll have nauseous

for a few hours, then he'll be fine.

  

And we will no longer tolerate

bee-negative nicknames...

  

But it's just a prance-about stage name!

  

...unnecessary inclusion of honey

in bogus health products

  

and la-dee-da human

tea-time snack garnishments.

  

Oan't breathe.

  

Bring it in, boys!

  

Hold it right there! Good.

  

Tap it.

  

Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,

and there's gallons more coming!

  

- I think we need to shut down!

- Shut down? We've never shut down.

  

Shut down honey production!

  

Stop making honey!

  

Turn your key, sir!

  

What do we do now?

  

Oannonball!

  

We're shutting honey production!

  

Mission abort.

  

Aborting pollination and nectar detail.

Returning to base.

  

Adam, you wouldn't believe

how much honey was out there.

  

Oh, yeah?

  

What's going on? Where is everybody?

  

- Are they out celebrating?

- They're home.

  

They don't know what to do.

Laying out, sleeping in.

  

I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way

to San Antonio with a cricket.

  

At least we got our honey back.

  

Sometimes I think, so what if humans

liked our honey? Who wouldn't?

  

It's the greatest thing in the world!

I was excited to be part of making it.

  

This was my new desk. This was my

new job. I wanted to do it really well.

  

And now...

  

Now I can't.

  

I don't understand

why they're not happy.

  

I thought their lives would be better!

  

They're doing nothing. It's amazing.

Honey really changes people.

  

You don't have any idea

what's going on, do you?

  

- What did you want to show me?

- This.

  

What happened here?

  

That is not the half of it.

  

Oh, no. Oh, my.

  

They're all wilting.

  

Doesn't look very good, does it?

  

No.

  

And whose fault do you think that is?

  

You know, I'm gonna guess bees.

  

Bees?

  

Specifically, me.

  

I didn't think bees not needing to make

honey would affect all these things.

  

It's notjust flowers.

Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.

  

That's our whole SAT test right there.

  

Take away produce, that affects

the entire animal kingdom.

  

And then, of course...

  

The human species?

  

So if there's no more pollination,

  

it could all just go south here,

couldn't it?

  

I know this is also partly my fault.

  

How about a suicide pact?

  

How do we do it?

  

- I'll sting you, you step on me.

- Thatjust kills you twice.

  

Right, right.

  

Listen, Barry...

sorry, but I gotta get going.

  

I had to open my mouth and talk.

  

Vanessa?

  

Vanessa? Why are you leaving?

Where are you going?

  

To the final Tournament of Roses parade

in Pasadena.

  

They've moved it to this weekend

because all the flowers are dying.

  

It's the last chance

I'll ever have to see it.

  

Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.

I never meant it to turn out like this.

  

I know. Me neither.

  

Tournament of Roses.

Roses can't do sports.

  

Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?

  

Roses!

  

Vanessa!

  

Roses?!

  

Barry?

  

- Roses are flowers!

- Yes, they are.

  

Flowers, bees, pollen!

  

I know.

That's why this is the last parade.

  

Maybe not.

Oould you ask him to slow down?

  

Oould you slow down?

  

Barry!

  

OK, I made a huge mistake.

This is a total disaster, all my fault.

  

Yes, it kind of is.

  

I've ruined the planet.

I wanted to help you

  

with the flower shop.

I've made it worse.

  

Actually, it's completely closed down.

  

I thought maybe you were remodeling.

  

But I have another idea, and it's

greater than my previous ideas combined.

  

I don't want to hear it!

  

All right, they have the roses,

the roses have the pollen.

  

I know every bee, plant

and flower bud in this park.

  

All we gotta do is get what they've got

back here with what we've got.

  

- Bees.

- Park.

  

- Pollen!

- Flowers.

  

- Repollination!

- Across the nation!

  

Tournament of Roses,

Pasadena, Oalifornia.

  

They've got nothing

but flowers, floats and cotton candy.

  

Security will be tight.

  

I have an idea.

  

Vanessa Bloome, FTD.

  

Official floral business. It's real.

  

Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.

  

Thank you. It was a gift.

  

Once inside,

we just pick the right float.

  

How about The Princess and the Pea?

  

I could be the princess,

and you could be the pea!

  

Yes, I got it.

  

- Where should I sit?

- What are you?

  

- I believe I'm the pea.

- The pea?

  

It goes under the mattresses.

  

- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.

- I'm getting the marshal.

  

You do that!

This whole parade is a fiasco!

  

Let's see what this baby'll do.

  

Hey, what are you doing?!

  

Then all we do

is blend in with traffic...

  

...without arousing suspicion.

  

Once at the airport,

there's no stopping us.

  

Stop! Security.

  

- You and your insect pack your float?

- Yes.

  

Has it been

in your possession the entire time?

  

Would you remove your shoes?

  

- Remove your stinger.

- It's part of me.

  

I know. Just having some fun.

Enjoy your flight.

  

Then if we're lucky, we'll have

just enough pollen to do the job.

  

Oan you believe how lucky we are? We

have just enough pollen to do the job!

  

I think this is gonna work.

  

It's got to work.

  

Attention, passengers,

this is Oaptain Scott.

  

We have a bit of bad weather

in New York.

  

It looks like we'll experience

a couple hours delay.

  

Barry, these are cut flowers

with no water. They'll never make it.

  

I gotta get up there

and talk to them.

  

Be careful.

  

Oan I get help

with the Sky Mall magazine?

  

I'd like to order the talking

inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.

  

Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.

  

- What'd you say, Hal?

- Nothing.

  

Bee!

  

Don't freak out! My entire species...

  

What are you doing?

  

- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!

- Who's an attorney?

  

Don't move.

  

Oh, Barry.

  

Good afternoon, passengers.

This is your captain.

  

Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B

please report to the cockpit?

  

And please hurry!

  

What happened here?

  

There was a DustBuster,

a toupee, a life raft exploded.

  

One's bald, one's in a boat,

they're both unconscious!

  

- Is that another bee joke?

- No!

  

No one's flying the plane!

  

This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.

What's your status?

  

This is Vanessa Bloome.

I'm a florist from New York.

  

Where's the pilot?

  

He's unconscious,

and so is the copilot.

  

Not good. Does anyone onboard

have flight experience?

  

As a matter of fact, there is.

  

- Who's that?

- Barry Benson.

  

From the honey trial?! Oh, great.

  

Vanessa, this is nothing more

than a big metal bee.

  

It's got giant wings, huge engines.

  

I can't fly a plane.

  

- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?

- Yes.

  

How hard could it be?

  

Wait, Barry!

We're headed into some lightning.

  

This is Bob Bumble. We have some

late-breaking news from JFK Airport,

  

where a suspenseful scene

is developing.

  

Barry Benson,

fresh from his legal victory...

  

That's Barry!

  

...is attempting to land a plane,

loaded with people, flowers

  

and an incapacitated flight crew.

  

Flowers?!

  

We have a storm in the area

and two individuals at the controls

  

with absolutely no flight experience.

  

Just a minute.

There's a bee on that plane.

  

I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson

and his no-account compadres.

  

They've done enough damage.

  

But isn't he your only hope?

  

Technically, a bee

shouldn't be able to fly at all.

  

Their wings are too small...

  

Haven't we heard this a million times?

  

"The surface area of the wings

and body mass make no sense."

  

- Get this on the air!

- Got it.

  

- Stand by.

- We're going live.

  

The way we work may be a mystery to you.

  

Making honey takes a lot of bees

doing a lot of small jobs.

  

But let me tell you about a small job.

  

If you do it well,

it makes a big difference.

  

More than we realized.

To us, to everyone.

  

That's why I want to get bees

back to working together.

  

That's the bee way!

We're not made of Jell-O.

  

We get behind a fellow.

  

- Black and yellow!

- Hello!

  

Left, right, down, hover.

  

- Hover?

- Forget hover.

  

This isn't so hard.

Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

  

Barry, what happened?!

  

Wait, I think we were

on autopilot the whole time.

  

- That may have been helping me.

- And now we're not!

  

So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.

  

All of you, let's get

behind this fellow! Move it out!

  

Move out!

  

Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,

you copy me with the wings of the plane!

  

Don't have to yell.

  

I'm not yelling!

We're in a lot of trouble.

  

It's very hard to concentrate

with that panicky tone in your voice!

  

It's not a tone. I'm panicking!

  

I can't do this!

  

Vanessa, pull yourself together.

You have to snap out of it!

  

You snap out of it.

  

You snap out of it.

  

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

  

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

  

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

  

- Hold it!

- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.

  

How is the plane flying?

  

I don't know.

  

Hello?

  

Benson, got any flowers

for a happy occasion in there?

  

The Pollen Jocks!

  

They do get behind a fellow.

  

- Black and yellow.

- Hello.

  

All right, let's drop this tin can

on the blacktop.

  

Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?

  

No, nothing. It's all cloudy.

  

Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.

  

- Thinking bee.

- Thinking bee.

  

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

  

Wait a minute.

I think I'm feeling something.

  

- What?

- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.

  

Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.

  

Bring the nose down.

  

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

  

- What in the world is on the tarmac?

- Get some lights on that!

  

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

  

- Vanessa, aim for the flower.

- OK.

  

Out the engines. We're going in

on bee power. Ready, boys?

  

Affirmative!

  

Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.

  

Land on that flower!

  

Ready? Full reverse!

  

Spin it around!

  

- Not that flower! The other one!

- Which one?

  

- That flower.

- I'm aiming at the flower!

  

That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.

I mean the giant pulsating flower

  

made of millions of bees!

  

Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.

  

Rotate around it.

  

- This is insane, Barry!

- This's the only way I know how to fly.

  

Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane

flying in an insect-like pattern?

  

Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.

Smell it. Full reverse!

  

Just drop it. Be a part of it.

  

Aim for the center!

  

Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!

  

Oome on, already.

  

Barry, we did it!

You taught me how to fly!

  

- Yes. No high-five!

- Right.

  

Barry, it worked!

Did you see the giant flower?

  

What giant flower? Where? Of course

I saw the flower! That was genius!

  

- Thank you.

- But we're not done yet.

  

Listen, everyone!

  

This runway is covered

with the last pollen

  

from the last flowers

available anywhere on Earth.

  

That means this is our last chance.

  

We're the only ones who make honey,

pollinate flowers and dress like this.

  

If we're gonna survive as a species,

this is our moment! What do you say?

  

Are we going to be bees, orjust

Museum of Natural History keychains?

  

We're bees!

  

Keychain!

  

Then follow me! Except Keychain.

  

Hold on, Barry. Here.

  

You've earned this.

  

Yeah!

  

I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect

fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.

  

Oh, yeah.

  

That's our Barry.

  

Mom! The bees are back!

  

If anybody needs

to make a call, now's the time.

  

I got a feeling we'll be

working late tonight!

  

Here's your change. Have a great

afternoon! Oan I help who's next?

  

Would you like some honey with that?

It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.

  

Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.

And I don't see a nickel!

  

Sometimes I just feel

like a piece of meat!

  

I had no idea.

  

Barry, I'm sorry.

Have you got a moment?

  

Would you excuse me?

My mosquito associate will help you.

  

Sorry I'm late.

  

He's a lawyer too?

  

I was already a blood-sucking parasite.

All I needed was a briefcase.

  

Have a great afternoon!

  

Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,

and I can't get them anywhere.

  

No problem, Vannie.

Just leave it to me.

  

You're a lifesaver, Barry.

Oan I help who's next?

  

All right, scramble, jocks!

It's time to fly.

  

Thank you, Barry!

  

That bee is living my life!

  

Let it go, Kenny.

  

- When will this nightmare end?!

- Let it all go.

  

- Beautiful day to fly.

- Sure is.

  

Between you and me,

I was dying to get out of that office.

  

You have got

to start thinking bee, my friend.

  

- Thinking bee!

- Me?

  

Hold it. Let's just stop

for a second. Hold it.

  

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.

Oan we stop here?

  

I'm not making a major life decision

during a production number!

  

All right. Take ten, everybody.

Wrap it up, guys.

  

I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

Adding on to my list of problems, is a jail break that happened earlier today. Those that broke out of The Blade include White Noise, Chryso, and Arcsurge, three members of the Five Finger Discount group, that I put away two months ago, when I was on my first date with Alicia. This is of course not counting the other hundreds of prisoners that are held there. Man, why can't bad guys ever stay in jail without a break out every other month? I mean, at least it isn't as bad of a revolving door as Arkham is but still. Prison security really needs an upgrade. Won't be hard to find those three though, just find the biggest vault, and they'll be there. Though, I'm more focused on finding Simon and Feyris at this point.

  

"Hey, you okay?" Kara asks, as she notices me staying silent as we fly around the city, out on patrol.

  

"Honestly, I'm not sure sis. I feel like we're no closer to finding them, and now Alicia's not talking to me. Everything's kind of going sideways. I can't help but feel like I'm failing everyone."

  

"We'll find them. As for you and Alicia, I'm sure you'll work things out, and everything will be back to the way it was in no time. We better get going though, as crime stops for no one." Kara replies, as we both notice the wall outside the Lucky Horseshoe Casino is non-existent, as an explosion goes off from inside the Casino.

  

"There's 6 of them inside. All metahumans." Kara says, observing the inside of the building with her X-Ray vision.

  

"Oh, so 3 for each of us then? Challenge accepted." I say, flying through the newly made hole in the wall, with Kara following from behind me.

  

"Worked just like he said it would. The two for one super special." One of the metas says, as he looks at me. I recognize that scowl. Bryce Achren, big time jock along with being your typical bully. Every school has to have one, and Bryce is Immaculata's.

  

"Wait a minute... Bryce Achren? Oh wow, that totally is you. Still picking on people smaller than you I see."

  

"Not sure what you're talking about... The names Crush!" He yells, his arm forming into a hammer. He slams his hammer hand into my ribcage, which sends me back a few feet.

  

"Isn't the name Crush already taken? Pretty sure there's a Czarnian named Crush. I mean Superman told me about her, so it's gotta be true, right? Though maybe you just don't care."

  

"SHUT UP!" He's almost at the point of screaming, as he continuously extends his arms to punch me, before retracting them. He repeats this process before a quick spurt of heat vision discourages him from doing it again.

  

"The boss wants them alive Bry-I mean Crush." One of the other metas says. Well, that's good. Don't have to worry about them killing us.

  

"Don't worry Trix, he's just blowing off a little steam. Besides, from what I've heard they can handle it." Another says, as electricity starts to form from her hands. Yet another familiar voice... It takes a second, before everything clicks into place, and the lightbulb goes off. It's the missing students from Immaculata. Pretty sure Bryce didn't have powers the last time he tried punching me out, so they all must've gotten them recently. Guess it shouldn't surprise me they're all together. Bryce and Amy have been one of the 'it' couples of the school, along with Brittany and Tony. Kind of surprised to see Frank there though, as he seemed to prefer being alone. As for Trixie, I have nothing really to say, as I haven't really seen her around school much.

  

"It's too bad Lord Harvest didn't spill on their weakness. Seems to know more about these two than he's letting on." Frank says quietly to himself as he watches the others attack me and Kara. Tony rushes at me, with his football gear still on. Brittany and Amy aim their destructive lightning and fire based projectiles at my sister, as Bryce uses his stretching powers to try to immobilize me. I'm able to break free pretty easily, as I fly over to the two girls attacking my sister, and punch Amy in the stomach, making sure to control the strength of the blow.

 

"What are you doing?!! You're hitting the wrong person!" The voice emanating from her isn't her own though, as it's my sister's voice. What the heck? I turn around and the 'Supergirl' fades, revealing Frank Gerritson. Within seconds, I fall, crashing into the ground. I notice I'm bleeding when I bring my hand out from my face. What's going on? This shouldn't be happening...

 

"Looks like Superboy ain't so super anymore!" Bryce taunts. As I run towards him, I feel a blast of electricity hit my back, which sends me crashing through casino tables. Haven't felt a pain quite like this before. I feel my throat getting horse, as I scream out in pain. Last thing I see, is Frank, trying to take on my sister, before I fall unconscious.

It takes a few minutes before anyone shows up. The door opens, and Samantha Arias walks up to me, with a look of relief.

 

"Thank you so much for stopping this crazed madman Superboy."

 

"I guess it works out that I was in the neighbourhood. Yeah, of course. Wouldn't be able to call myself a hero if I didn't. Who is he anyways? He seemed to have it out for you Ms. Arias." I say, trying to lower my voice as a way to disguise it.

 

"Lots of people do. It's what comes with running a business, especially one with so much history behind it."

 

History... Right. That's definitely not the word I would use to describe LuthorCorp.

 

"Anyways, this is Roman Segal. He used to work for LuthorCorp, until I fired him a month ago. He was using company resources for his own pet project called the Whirlwind armor, which is what you see here. It costed us millions, so there was no other option but to let him go."

 

Whirlwind armor eh? Hmm, talk about convenient, considering I started calling him Whirlwind. While what he did was clearly wrong, I still feel bad for the guy. Another victim of LuthorCorp. Probably was a good guy too, before this one bad day ruined him for life. I can't believe that he's too far gone. My sister and Clark always tell me to be more hopeful, so here I am, hoping for him to turn his life around someday. But for now, he'll have to spend time in prison, thinking about his actions today.

 

"Ah, I see. Well, I better be off, as the crisis has been adverted, with no one getting hurt. That, and there's always more people to save!" With that, I exit through the window, and fly down to a phone booth, changing into regular clothes, and re-entering the building. Alicia notices me entering the building and walks towards me. I meet her halfway.

 

"Hey, how's everyone doing?"

 

"A little shaken up, but other than that fine!" Alicia still looks as upbeat and cheerful as ever.

 

"Glad to hear everyone's okay. So did they end up asking you where I went?"

 

"Aha yeah they did. Don't worry, I covered for you." She says giggling. I'm not sure whether to be worried, or relieved.

 

"What'd you say?"

 

"That you needed to get some air, as this place brings back bad memories. It was the first thing I could think of, so I just blurted it out." Phew, not something really embarrassing. Relieved it is.

 

"That's-actually quite clever. You're hired! From now on, you're giving my cover stories." Does she secretly have mind reading powers in addition to her teleportation? Cause it's kind of eery how accurate she was with that cover story, considering the things this company has done against Clark. Though I feel like she would've told me if she had any other powers.

 

"Haha, I'll do my best!" And she's actually going along with it. After a moment of silence, she speaks up.

"So who was it this time?"

 

"I'll tell you all about it later. We should probably rejoin the class. Don't want Mrs. Alice to keep worrying."

 

"Alright, fine." Alicia makes a frowny face for a few seconds before she's back to smiling, as we walk over to where the rest of the class is.

 

"Hey man, heard what happened. Sorry, I didn't know. You alright?" Shane inquires.

 

"Yeah I'm all good now. Just needed a little time to regain myself. There's no need for you to be sorry, as you didn't know. I never brought it up, at least with anyone other than Ally. My uncle wasn't treated that well when he worked at the LuthorCorp plant in Midvale. Anyways, I'm glad we'll be out of here soon." Putting my acting ability to the test right about now. I mean my Earth father Jeremiah did tell us of his brother that lives in Midvale, so that part is true. Him working at LuthorCorp? Not so much. But you gotta do what you gotta do to keep up appearances.

 

Mrs. Alice: "Alright class, I've contacted the bus driver to come and pick us up. He should be here shortly, so everyone please, in an orderly fashion, head to the parking lot." With that, we all file out of the LuthorCorp building, but not in a very orderly fashion. Some rush past the others, shoving their way through. One tries to push past me, but I stand my ground, and he ends up falling flat on his face. Once outside, we end up waiting for about five minutes before the bus comes rolling into the parking lot. I see Mr. Simms trying to convince Mrs. Alice to stay and go through with the tour since Whirlwind has been taken care of, but she's having none of it. Curious to see if Whirlwind ends up at Stryker's, or the Blade. When the bus comes to a stop, we all make our way onto the bus, and sit down. Once again, Shane pops in his earbuds, as me and Alicia sit across from him. That was some field trip. Well, it was fun while it lasted, though I'm relieved we aren't in that building anymore.

  

---------------

Elsewhere, later that night.

 

With my parents out-of-town tonight, I figured it was time for me and Feyris to catch up, as I haven't seen her in a year. Eh actually, it was more of her inviting herself over. She went to Japan for a modeling gig, which lasted longer than I thought it would. I'm honestly still not really sure how to feel about it all. I used to have the biggest crush on her, but I realized that there was no way she would ever choose me. I'm not a jock, or popular in any way. I'm just a nerdy guy, who likes video-games, comics, and experimenting with various devices. I'm just her childhood friend, but that's all she would ever see me as. Obviously, my feelings haven't completely disappeared, but I also think I'm starting to have feelings for Kara. Again, I doubt she'll reciprocate those feelings, as me, Simon Valentine, has the worst luck. First Feyris, then Alicia, and now Kara. Why can't I be like Chris? Cool, brave, and everything a girl could ever want. Ugh, I'm envious of him.

 

"Hey, you okay Simon? You look a little lost in space." Feyris looks at me, curious at what's going on in my head.

 

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just was thinking. What were you saying?"

 

"Thinking about what? Anyways, I was talking about how different Japan is from Leavenworth. The streets are so packed that you can't really go anywhere without bumping into someone. It ruins my hair too. So by the time I arrive at the studio, I have to redo my hair, and ugh, it's so annoying. That's not even mentioning the schools there! SOO BORING!! Most of the girls there are so two-faced, and only ever want to go to karaoke afterwards. I thought Immaculata was strict, but boyy was I wrong. It's nothing in comparison to the schools there. But at least I got to wear some cute outfits."

 

"Just how it hasn't been the same without you, along with the past and present. I don't know, it's all just a cluttered mess in my brain. You do realize how funny it is, hearing you calling other girls two-faced, when you are exactly like that. Ah, it's nice to have you back."

 

"While there definitely was some fun times, I've missed our talks Simon. You get me, and accept me for who I am. Even if I'm a bitch to everyone else."

 

"Awh, how sweet. It's a pity I came in at such a bad time." I hear a voice say, and I see Feyris become horrified. I turn around, and it's someone with a hood on, and a black mask underneath. In his hands, is a scythe. Almost like he's a grim reaper or something out of a horror movie.

 

"Who-who are you, and what do you want? My voice shakes, as I try talking.

 

"Who I am isn't important. If you must know, I came for both of you."

 

"You're not putting your filthy hands on either of us! Besides, you know that's a bad idea right?! Superboy, or Supergirl will come for you!"

 

"Oh, but you see, that's what I'm counting on. After all, I know their secrets, which includes knowing how to kill them. What are you gonna do? You're only human. While I, am something much greater."

 

I run up to him, and try to punch his jaw. Honestly, it's the first time I've done this before, but I can't let him take us. He simply dodges, and sweeps my legs out from under me, making me fall flat on my face.

 

"Nice try loverboy. Better luck next time." The hooded figure says with a growl, as he hits me on the back in the head with the blunt end of his scythe. Everything turns to black, and I can only pray that nothing happens to Feyris.

Gotham city police department

 

Jim Gordon’s sitting at his desk running his finger up and down some old Blackgate files and getting next to no work done. It may be pointless but it’s what Loeb’s got him doing so he might as well pass the time. He knows why he’s doing it. Loeb’s out in a month and his job’s going to Jim which means the sour bastard’s got him running pointless errands whilst he hangs on to what little power he has.

 

Harvey Dent knocks on the door and without hesitation enters

Harvey dent: Jim! I heard the good news! Came to celebrate! It’s not every day a man gets crowned commissioner of the most crooked police department known to man!

 

Jim Gordon: haha. Well that sure is one way to put it...uh..loebs got me on these old blackgate files for some lowlife criminal that ended a sentence a few years back. Reckons there’s some huge conspiracy going on. Loada bull

 

Harvey Dent: Who?

 

Jim Gordon: Uh...guy named Lenny...fiasco. He’s not exactly Count Dracula

 

Harvey Dent: Loeb gave you this case? sounds like he’s distracting you. Somethings going on. He wants you out of his way

 

Jim Gordon: No he’s just bitter I’m getting his job. He’s hated my guts since the day I First entered this god forsaken precinct and I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t mutual

 

Harvey Dent: I guess that sounds about right ... but still it wouldn’t hurt to look into it. Would it

 

Jim Gordon: No I guess not

 

Harvey Bullock: Rams the sorry excuse for a door wide open with a slight hint of nialism and slumps into the age old armchair hidden away in the corner of the rundown office

 

Jim Gordon: Good evening to you too Harv

 

Harvey Dent: You heard about Jim’s promotion to commisioner then Harvey? I assume that’s why your here

 

Harvey Bullock: Yeah I heard. wouldn’t miss it for the world.

 

He then pulls out a large bottle of rum and three dirty glasses from an almost invisible wooden cabinet under Jim’s desk

 

Jim Gordon: Since when was that there

 

Harvey Bullock: Before you were here I’ll tell ya that much buddy.

 

He then pours the three glasses with a reckless yet exact precision and slides them across the desk to the other two

 

Harvey Dent: Smells about right anyway

 

Jim Gordon: Ah thanks Harv. I needed this

 

Harvey Bullock: To Jim Gordon. A hero, partner and friend. Yada yada yada.

 

Jim Gordon: Heh I’m moved

 

Harvey Dent: hey I have to ask. Have you guys seen the news stories on gothams latest nutcase. The bat. I mean I’ll be straight up. I couldn’t care less if he knocks a few heads together. as long as he gets the job done that is. Cos Yknow I’m a man of the law and all but if he wants to make my job a hell of a lot easier then he’s welcome to it

 

Jim Gordon: yeah I saw them. And I can’t help but agree. I’ll be honest I’ve got somewhat of a past of going outside the law myself and I’m not too proud of that but sometimes in Gotham,The law can’t help those who need it and that’s why he’s here

 

Harvey Bullock : couldn’t care less. Just means less work for me. Now if ya don’t mind, I’ve got a bottle of rum to drink

 

The three talk loudly from night into the morning as if to forget all the hell they put up with in this goddamn city of theirs

 

——————————————————

 

The same night on the streets of Gotham

 

Several junkies gather round an archway surrounded by the stench of half used heroine needles and their own human waste. They sit there shaking in the cold and saying nothing but the odd mumble under their breath. Another emerges from the archway trying desperately to peek the interest of the other four.

 

He speaks in a heavily laboured tone:you all need to...come see. You need to see this....it’s a crazy thing. He’s a crazy thing...but great!...come now. You gotta see

 

Another speaks back:who?..who is it? Jon! Who is it?

 

Jon looks back half distracted by a small flame in the distance at the end of the street: you see ....that light?..the fire?

 

The other speaks back: yeah...I see it...what about it?

 

Jon: come now....You gotta see..it...you gotta

 

The response is one of reluctance and annoyance: yeah yeah. We coming...We coming. Give it time

 

The two of them get to their feet and stumble off into the distance towards the great flames leaving the rest to shiver helplessly on Gothams cruel streets

 

just 20 or 30 feet above the old archway,a bat is perched listening carefully to every word spoken. The bat speaks through a comme in his cowl

 

Batman: Alfred.

 

Alfred Pennyworth: yes master Bruce? What is it you have stumbled across this time?

 

Batman: nothing I’ve found. just the word of a few bums over by Newport street. I’m going to follow the two of them to whatever they’re headed for. I’ll send you my coordinates when I find something. Have the Rolls ready as a back up plan if this one goes sideways

 

Alfred Pennyworth: by this one you mean jumping into an unnecessary scrape with a group of dangerous hooligans on a street corner completely unprepared?

 

Batman: that’s one way of putting it

 

Alfred pennyworth: do just try to keep yourself in one piece this time will you. It Would be an absolute shame if you were to have this lovely new hobby of yours cut short after only a month or two

 

Batman:positive as always Alfred. I’ll contact you when I find something.

Abner’s bar and grill, Gotham City-

 

O’Hara: “…the t’ing about office donuts is… they have more of an enigma. You don’t have to race into work early for store-brought donuts. What do you think Lenny?”

 

Lenny: “No Miss… not the… Ben Swolo… *SNORES

  

Chief O’Hara glances up at CSI Leonard Fiasco, who is almost half asleep at the bar…

 

O’Hara: “Lenny… LENNY!”

  

Lenny suddenly springs awake, his mindless muttering ceased.

 

Lenny: “Yes… sir!”

 

O’Hara shakes his head in disappointment as Lenny regains his sense of surroundings. Lenny was perplexed that the portly police chief had invited him out for drinks.

 

Lenny: ‘I’ve gotta say chief *BURPS*, I used to think you were a right… whats the word… Shit! But buying me all these drinks… … … what was I saying again?”

  

Lenny lunges forward suddenly, narrowly avoiding O’Hara as he vomits all over the floor. O’Hara’s left eye begins to twitch, his face seemingly holding back a cascade of rage.

 

O’Hara: Listen, Lenny. Most people you’ll meet will say that sacking people is the worst part of the job. Frankly, it’s the reason I have climbed the job ladder in the first place…”

 

Lenny: “Wut… wut are you trying to say?”

 

Lenny looks at O’Hara, his face painted with an unmistakeable shade of dread, albeit, slightly undermined by the chunk of vomit dripping from his lower lip.

 

O’Hara: “what I am trying to say, Lenny, is that yer sacked.”

 

Lenny stares blankly at O’Hara, the revelation having passed through him. After a moment’s tedium, the news hits him… hard.

 

Lenny: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SACKED?”

 

O’Hara maintains his calm, greasy demeanour.

 

O’Hara: “Yer sacked, yer fired, yer dismissed from duty! No matter how many ways I put it, you know what I mean.”

 

Lenny grows visually enraged (unless you couldn’t tell from the caps lock)

 

Lenny: “How can you fire me, I am the best this police force has ever produced… you’d be lost without me?”

 

O’Hara pulls out a large incident file with Lenny’s name in it.

 

O’Hara: “Chief Clementine, before I got him sacked, let a lot of your antics slip between the cracks. Apparently, he saw a bit of himself in you, frankly the only part of me I see in you is the part that comes out of me arse. Besides, the whole CSI division agrees, you gotta go.”

 

Lenny turns to the rest of the CSI’s, sharing drinks in a booth at the other side of the bar. Eerily, they turn to face Lenny, before nodding their heads in unison at the chief’s statement. O’Hara begins to look at the different incident reports.

 

O’Hara: “Ah, here’s an old classic. In 2015, you took a ‘cool looking’ lighter from a crime scene. As a result, the Broome Street Stranglers went free… and got the key to the city… and one of them married the mayor’s daughter… and…

 

Lenny: ‘Yeah, I get the point! Well, I suppose the only thing to do is to go graciously without burning any bridges… goodb…

 

Suddenly, Lenny loses control, projectile vomiting all over O’Hara (only high class comedy for you, audience). The whole bar looks at Lenny, disappointment, shame but mostly amusement on their face.

 

Lenny: “…well, since an honourable exit has gone out of the window…”

 

He grabs a full pitcher of beer, and pours it all over the room. GCPD or non GCPD, the whole bar is drenched.

 

Lenny: “Goodbye, f***holes, I will miss none of you. Except you, Gonzales…”

 

He points towards a femal detective in the corner, who immediately ducks her head down in shame at being the object of Lenny’s attention.

 

Lenny: “…call me!”

 

Lenny, still intoxicated, blows a kiss towards the detective, before waltzing out of the bar with ill -deserved swagger. The bar initially attempts to resume its regular, albeit now beer-soaked, practices, only for Lenny to walk in once more.

 

Lenny: “Actually, I just realised, I was supposed to carpool with sergeant Lin, is that still happening?”

 

A thrown glass narrowly avoides hitting Lenny in the face.

 

Lenny: “I’ll take that as a no.”

 

Lenny, with a lot less swagger, runs out of the bar, hoping to avoid further retribution from his former colleagues. The whole bar sighs with relief as he goes.

---------------------------------------------------------

Well… I have nothing to say. This has set the bar for what is to come (albeit with a little less vomit). BTW If you want a good piece of music to have on in the other tab while writing, this www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgG5V7LWaGs is one I have been using a lot lately. You don’t have to know the TV show, it is just a really good piece of music.

Harry: *Deep breaths...*

Trevor: *It’s still like a couple days away to get there! I mean, I already figured out how it takes for us....*

Harry: *I know it’s tough, we can make it. If the weather changes affect the trip.*

Trevor: *There! We can stay overnight.*

Harry: *I surely hope I have enough money for that....*

 

It’s about another couple of hours since we escaped from the city, and took a random vehicle into the desert. Maybe the camels weren’t available, even if there’s an advanced, mechanical one (the 24th century we live in, of course). I managed to find a overnight desert camp after trekking for another 4k, as I paid our one night rent in some tents for the two of us. The receptionist was somehow pleased—I had a backup mask for Trevor, as he commented how we looked good as father and son. Heh.

 

After offered a great meal, it’s already inching towards late night—getting more colder as the temperature is dropping. Sleeping bags and blankets are provided as I keep my weapons and gadgets in check if there is an attack. Eventually, it turns midnight as Trevor reads a book (more advanced than iPads) to himself.

 

Harry: *Getting late kid. Shouldn’t you get some sleep?*

Trevor: *But....I’m not tired.*

Harry: *You uh....want me to read you a story?*

Trevor: *Sure....how about you tell me yours, Harry? I find you very interesting, especially that mask, I like it a lot. Where did you get it from?*

Harry: *Me? Nah, I’m not—*

Trevor: *Please?*

Harry: *Ok, ok, alright. So apparently, I shouldn’t be telling you this, because I’m a secret agent. And....I work for a very, very secretive group, good one of course.*

Trevor: *Ooh.*

Harry: *And I’m one of the members of this team within the agency, we are dubbed the Avalon Squad. Just like age old tales of Arthurian times, the island. It means apples, haha, but not exactly because according to the legend that’s where heroes are taken to after death.”

Trevor: *Wow, that is so cool!*

Harry: *Yeah I guess. Wait, did they never teach you these in school?*

Trevor: *Yeah, no....I mean my parents sent me to this facility when I was young. They died right after I was there, I can confirm it, from a car accident. They didn’t like me for what I was because I was too smart—and I had to be repressed, being looked down and humiliated at by people before I was taken. So I eventually got together like the other kids, we learn, live, eat and sleep there. We don’t get too much entertainment, but they said they were gonna train us when we grow up. Life was harsh and people were cruel as well, especially some of the instructors and students.*

Harry: *Huh, that’s....quite sickening.*

Trevor: *But the good thing is—they took us around the world, that’s a privilege you get to travel. I thought there were no other facilities, but it turns out I’m not the only one around....I’m scared....and now they’re going after my brain because they choose random cadets for their powers to be harvested....*

Harry: “Ho-lee shit.” *I guess you managed to make it out when my not-so-good team rescued you.*

Trevor: *Yup.*

Harry: *Just as I thought. You’re important now...but you risk being an asset to lose because you’re a bait as well.*

Trevor: *Mhmm. So, can we get back to your story?*

Harry: *Sure. So where did we leave off...yup, my mask. I didn’t have the greatest childhood ever like you. I went through harsh times, raised in Greece and Canada, went through being brainwashed and torture and lots of terrible stuff. I mean, they triggered my abilities as well, like you from a certain age. To become invisible. That made me the ultimate assassin in various teams. On my unintended last one, I burnt horribly....bad. I left and went to a black market to be fixed, crawling there...it’s really painful, no joke. Then he referred me to this guy, Doctor Edens. I can show him and the rest later. So I guess how I ended up with the team.*

 

As we entered another hour of talking, I was beginning to be much more acquainted with Trevor. It was late at midnight as we still traded stories. Finally, he asked me to take off my mask. As I revealed my disfigured face, he didn’t scream. He simply showed smiles and hugged me, much to my surprise.

 

Trevor: *Harry, you’re not ugly at all. You’re beautiful. I think you're just cool like that. Even your mask is amazing and it often covers who you are, but you shouldn't be afraid to show it off.*

Harry: *Well uh....thanks kiddo. If I didn’t become an assassin, I would have been a social worker, a chef...maybe a good regular job, which is pretty ironic because of my status like that....but it'll never happen.*

Trevor: *But would you give up on your dreams like that?*

Harry: *Probably not. I bet you'd be a great genius when you grow older. Now, it’s really late and we should sleep.*

 

***

 

The next morning was probably good. I woke up with a daze, looking out to the horizon, the aura of the sunshine. I grinned at Trevor, who was still sleeping soundly. Around 10:30 or so, we had our breakfast and packed our backs and started to leave for checkout.

 

When we exited the tent, there was no one around. My instincts told me it was weird once again. I tried to phone my team to “co-operate”, but with no response. The receptionist gave me a creepy smile. Not again. It seems like I always have a habit of being followed, being spared the previous night must have been a gift, or better, not getting food poisoning at dinner.

 

And a woman stepped forward. I realised it was North’s niece. Carla Michaels.

 

“Hello, Ghostforge. I see you have enjoyed the company of our hospitality.”

“What do you want, Carla?”

“You know what I want.”

“So bring it.”

“And, Carla Michaels isn’t my real name. It’s an alias. I’ve slaughtered a few guests already since they were unwilling to work with us, and the rest is gone, free. Unless you want to hand over what belongs to us rightfully.”

“Not a chance. Your uncle won’t get what he ever wants. Never.”

“Well, just too bad. Boys, kill him, and bring me the child.”

 

Oh crap. Guess that’s when the desert dries quick. I grab my rifle and spray a couple of them down. Two minutes with a quickshot and I already have five killed. I take Trevor’s hand and run through the other tents. I witness a grenade being thrown onto our direction, scaring out some of the other incoming tourists (one must have believed this would be a live stunt show performance). Two more get thrown again. We take cover behind some trees, but I’m not too lucky as my right arm is somewhat burnt. Blood streams down me as I quickly grab a bandage from my bag and patch myself up.

 

Nearby I hear “Carla Michaels” to keep searching for us in this mess again. Really for the second fucking time. I’m pissed. I spot another nearby car, signaling Trevor to activate the car with my gestures, as his body quickly adapts to speed. I get in the driver’s seat quickly. Gee, this thing has much harness and with plasma in it. It’s a fast one and I like it. I quickly grab my pistol and shoot at the mini statue, which falls on some of the Spectres. “Carla Michaels” attempts to give chase but fails. We ride away as quickly as we can....

 

Trevor: *That was exciting!*

Harry: *Yeah yeah, another day of worthless fighting....honestly I would rather have some rest alone, maybe you’re an exception kid.*

Trevor: *Wait!*

Harry: *What?*

Trevor: *I somewhat know where my friends are....in that facility. And I have a bad feeling about them?*

Harry: *So your powers are kicking in then huh? Great, so where are they?*

Trevor: *There’s an invisible building near the airport....and they even have goddamn big base down there. But....only you can detect it, Harry.*

 

Triple shit again this time. Now I’ve gotta go fucking clean up this mess and rescue the kids. With a person having a dubious alias aka “Carla Michaels” hot on my trail.....

Greendale: Day 11 of the Misfits' Undercover Operation

 

With the rest of the Misfits still enrolled in the college, Drury had left Rigger, Reardon and Gar to browse the nearby mall. With them distracted, and in good enough spirits, he was able to enter the Ballroom, a small bar in Greendale's town center without arousing their suspicions. As he opened the door, he was met with a large, suited guard, standing between him and his contact.

 

"You're late," the guard noted.

 

"Couldn't find a parking space I liked," Drury lied, placing his cocoon gun and the accompanying cartridge of white pellets onto the cork crate beside him: holding his arms out so that the guard could pat him down, pausing as their hands reached the large stuffed rabbit Drury had forced halfway down his back jacket pocket.

 

"It's for my son," Drury blushed. "He'll be 20 this month."

 

The guard raised a judgemental eyebrow, but gave way nonetheless, allowing Drury access into the private booth. The seated occupant rose to his feet and offered his hand out to greet him.

 

"Mr Walker. We haven't been formally introduced yet. My name is David Li, but you can call me-" he began, only for Drury to cut him off.

 

"-Bookworm, yeah, yeah, Roman's right hand, I know. Chuck's mentioned you. Said you were an honourable sort. Or at least as honourable as a mob accountant gets, I suppose... He's also said that he wished you'd find more... eh, 'ethically sound' employment."

 

"Oh, I'm quite satisfied in Mr Sionis' employ, thank you," Li smiled politely. "Although we have been... challenged, as of late. Perhaps it's better to show you: Here."

 

Li reached into his briefcase and handed Drury the first of many photos, as Walker tried his very best not to throw up.

 

"Lucio Moxxom. October 31st. Halloween. Head decapitated and mailed to the Sionis penthouse," Li explained, before moving onto the next victim:

 

"Marco Viti. November 5th. Bonfire Night. Thrown into a Steel Mill furnace. Headfirst."

 

And the next:

 

"Angelo Mirti. November 16th. Thanksgiving. Drugged and strung up outside the East End Warehouses. A pound of C4 placed... Well, in a place best left unsaid. And since then, there have been three other murders just like them. Remind you of someone?"

 

"Julian..." Drury realised, as his heart sank.

 

"Yes. There was a note attached to the first victim's... ah, head, which matches the handwriting we have on record... Here's the copy I made," Li handed Drury a small sheet of paper, and he read it aloud:

 

"'Roman Sionis... should've stayed in Italy... blah blah... day of reckoning...' bit pretentious... 'Before this year is through, we will see you burn.'" Drury read. "How come I didn't hear about this sooner? Why didn't you go to the cops?"

 

"Because the last thing Mr Sionis wants is the GCPD intruding on his businesses. He gets enough bother from the Bats: Something we have in common, I hear. We can help you with that," Li lowered his glasses. "Mr Sionis, believes there's a connection between Day, and this man: The White Mask. And, on Halloween, a recent blood test confirmed his suspicions that White Mask, real name: David Franco, is the son of Richard Sionis. His father. This revelation has Mr Sionis reeling, as he's now certain that Franco, has joined forces with Day to remove him from power."

 

Though he had only been half listening, Drury suddenly perked up. "Sorry, Dave Franco-?"

 

"Yes, believe me, we all know what it sounds like... Might we skip the jokes and focus, please?" Li sighed.

 

"Oh, no, we can not just gloss over that. I've got so much material to work with!" Drury joked.

 

"If you could concentrate please-" Li restated, as he motioned to his bodyguard, the burly man who had patted Drury down earlier with firm enthusiasm.

 

"Right, yes, sorry," Drury gulped. "Continue."

 

"In the weeks since he first received those blood tests, Mr Sionis has turned to Henry Ferris: Iron-Hat, a vile man really. Ferris, believes that to catch Day, we must first lure him out into the open. And what better way is there, than with a holiday party? I believe you're familiar with the annual Janus Cosmetics Christmas ball."

 

"I am, yeah," Drury reminisced. "But you could wrap Roman in tissue paper and a big red bow, and Jules would probably still show up. Doubt it matters to him, but it would limit casualties."

 

"You're being sarcastic, I take it," Li noticed. "Believe me, you have every reason to distrust my employer, hate him even, but if you do nothing, if The Calendar Man kills Roman Sionis... Well, you have no idea the kinds of monsters he's kept at bay. Or the evils that will rise up in his place..." Li stopped himself from elaborating further and instead, took a pen from his breast pocket, and scrawled a few digits onto the napkin beneath his soda. "The offer stands. We can grant you safe passage into Gotham, however many guns you require, and in exchange, we request your expertise in dealing with Calendar Man. I'll be staying in the hotel on Rhodes Street; visit me there when you have an answer."

 

==Greendale: Day 17==

 

"You didn't tell me you were working with Sionis," Kuttler frowned.

 

"No, I didn't..." Chuck murmured, just as confused as he was.

 

Drury approached the False Facers and shook hands with Li. "You remembered my terms, yeah?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Li spoke. "We already have people bringing Mr Sharpe to the rendezvous point," he confirmed. "We are, however, still struggling to locate Mr Fiasco. We've not heard from him since he was released from GCPD custody."

 

"Forget it, Len knows how to disappear: he'll be deep underground by now," Drury reasoned. "He's never really liked the spotlight."

 

"Quite," Li agreed. "We have a small smelting plant in one of the neighbouring towns. I've arranged to have your truck moved there, where it can be quietly decommissioned."

 

"But not before you 'quietly' scavenge whatever Bat-Tech you can get a hold of, right?" Drury questioned him, hesitantly reaching into his back pocket, and placing the keys into Li's expectant palm.

 

"Perhaps," Li said coolly.

 

"Oh, mind you, I quite like the hood ornament," White remarked, as he ran his fingers along the grill of the truck. "Might have to keep that for myself."

 

"Uh, Drury?" Chuck interrupted, speaking on the group's behalf. "Could we maybe talk about this for a minute?"

 

Drury, looked back over to Li. "Five minutes," the Bookworm relented. Walker nodded gratefully, and rejoined the rest of the Misfits.

 

"How exactly did you arrange an escort from the Great White Shark of all people? Did you subscribe to the Iceberg Lounge's loyalty scheme?" Kuttler inquired, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

 

"They do that?" an oblivious Mayo asked. "What a gip!"

 

"Dru?" Rigger asked expectantly, electing to ignore Mayo.

 

"Well, you remember those couple of days we spent in the city center? Blake had his teaching gig, you got your sword, Gar got that nifty new lighter and we all had a brief pint in that place on L-Street?"

 

"Sure, that was the happiest I've ever been," he replied.

 

'Really?' Gar thought.

 

"Well, while you were browsing through shops, I actually had a meeting with Li there: The guy with the hat. We'd been texting for a couple of days prior; think Sharpe maybe gave him my mobile... Doesn't matter. Well, matters a little... But, what's important is, Li told me that Sionis' people are being taken out one by one. On holidays," he stated, pausing for dramatic effect.

 

'Julian...' Chuck gasped.

 

"Jules?" Blake wondered. "But that'd mean..."

 

"Exactly. I think we've found our mastermind," Drury concluded.

 

Ten placed his head in his hands. "God, Drury, I thought we moved past this," he sighed wearily.

 

"We did, I know, I'm sorry, but look at the facts: We know Carson isn't smart enough to play the long game. Julian is. If he's part of- or the leader of the Outcasts, we have to take him down. We could end this all, right here."

 

"Just like in Nanda Parbat, right?" Reardon asked, standing his ground.

 

"That was different. Please," Drury pleaded.

 

"Ok, Drury, let's say that he is behind all this, that he paid Krill and promised Carson revenge: that still doesn't explain that Zolomon ghoul," Chuck addressed it. "What does he get out of this?"

 

"Guess we'll just have to ask him ourselves," Gar stated, as he stood by Drury's side.

 

The other Misfits, looked more hesitant to join him.

 

"There'll be a party," Drury tried to entice them. "Booze. Food. Women," directing each of these at Flannegan, Mayo and Blake in that order.

 

"I'm in," Blake replied confidently, as Rigger also cheered enthusiastically.

 

"You know me, boss, I'm just here for the paycheck," Otis agreed.

 

"And if there's a free buffet-" Mayo licked his lips. "Well, that'd just be swell."

 

'Swell...' Gar mouthed, looking at Drury and nodding affirmatively.

 

The next to speak, Chuck sighed. "God, peer pressure is a bitch... Hell yeah, let's do it," he smiled. That just left Ten.

 

"Hey. You said you trusted me," Drury smirked.

 

"Eh-" Reardon protested.

 

"You said, 'Drury, I trust you,' you did," he teased.

 

"Hey, if you said that, it's on you," Blake shrugged.

 

"Well, that's- That's not a direct quotation," Reardon responded. "It's not!" he repeated to the skeptical ensemble. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "Fine."

 

"Does it even matter what I think?" Kuttler asked bitterly.

 

"I mean, I thought I'd at least give you the illusion of choice," Drury smiled boyishly.

 

"Good job," he scoffed.

 

==Gotham City==

 

The Apartment of the Deceased Jumbo Carson. Now home to his brother Ted, his daughter Bridget and their lackey Roger Hayden

 

The door creaked open, as Julian Day entered the room, his hands smelling strongly of hand sanitizer: A habit he had taken up since his meeting with The King of Cats. Hayden, was currently sat atop the kitchen stool, watching cartoons with intense delight, while his hands caressed his beloved Medusa mask. ​

At the side of the room, Bridget was putting up a Christmas tree; with many of the decorations recovered from her childhood home to celebrate the first Christmas she was spending with her father since his return- a gesture gone unnoticed by Carson himself.

 

"Allow me," Day said softly, as he reached into the cardboard box of mementos and placed the star at the top of the tree. 'No tinsel?' he noted. 'Pity.'

 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Carson perked up. "Who'd you kill this time, huh?" he demanded, as he poured himself a cup of black coffee.

 

Day didn't reply.

 

"And where the hell's Krill anyway?" Carson continued to press. "Would never have agreed to this arrangement if I'd known you'd be poaching my people for god knows what."

 

Bridget, was actually quite grateful for Krill's absence. Though responsible for bringing her father home, Krill himself had been both crass and disrespectful to her family, with his constant jokes aggravating Carson's already foul temper. Day, at least, buried his insults in flowery language that often went over her father's head.

 

"My partners have Krill working on a separate assignment right now," Day spoke. "You, should stay focused on yours."

 

"Separate assignment- Stay focused? But I'm not doing anything!" Carson disagreed.

 

"Precisely," Day said coldly. "I can't have you bumbling around Gotham like a drunk Darth Vader."

 

"I-," Carson stammered. "We should be out there, searching for the putz who killed Jacob!"

 

Day took the coffee pot out of Carson's hands, and poured the steaming liquid into his festive mug. "No. You really shouldn't," he disagreed. "The matter has already been dealt with. Pass the milk, please, Roger."

 

Carson intercepted Hayden's hand. "No, 'Roger,' don't pass him the goddamn milk! Dealt with? Dealt with?! You have no right to-"

 

"Oh, and you do?" Day scoffed. "It was your failure at the hospital that got Ant-Man captured. And your inaction that got him killed."

 

Bridget arrived at her dad's side and placed her hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to calm him down. "It's not worth it," she urged.

 

Carson took a deep breath. "That's my point," he told Day. "Listen, if you'd just let me talk to your partners, we could coordinate on this. Let me set the gas mains alight, hit the power station. Something big to draw Walker out of hiding!"

 

Day paused to process the magnitude of Carson's suggestion, and brow furrowed, turned to Bridget sympathetically.

 

Dejected, Carson changed direction. "At least I'm trying! While you were out... washing your hands? I, had a talk with the White Mask. Turns out, he's seeing somebody,"

 

Day rolled his eyes. "Barson, I'm really not interested in tabloid news and idle gossip," he said disinterestedly.

 

"But you'll like this: His new girlfriend, is none other than Jenna Duffy. Lynns' girl. You know what that means, don't you? They broke up," Carson said gleefully.

 

Day raised an eyebrow, suddenly invested. "Really?" he wondered.

 

"Really?" Carson quoted. "Yes, really, why would I lie? It was a big teary eyed thing, Franco said. Apparently, Lynns had to choose between her and his best friend, and he chose Walker. Crazy, right?"

 

"Crazy," Day repeated. "Hn. Congratulations, Barson, perhaps you're not all that useless after all," he concluded.

 

=The Iceberg Lounge's Private Bar=

 

Sionis was sat in the backroom, in a makeshift surgery room. Doting over him, was Lazlo Valentin: Professor Pyg. Sionis, had refused anaesthetic, of course: He'd heard all kinds of horror stories about Valentin transforming simple surgical procedures into nightmarish experiments. Presently, Valentin had been put to work adjusting Sionis' face in anticipation of the holiday party: Sandpapering his scalp, varnishing the surface and tracing over his skull-like features with a small scalpel, all to accentuate Sionis' fearsome visage

 

"Pretty as a picture," he snorted, as he kissed Sionis' bald scalp tenderly.

 

"Thanks, Porky. Feel better already," Sionis remarked disingenuously, as he unhooked the white bib from his person, and admired himself in the overhead mirror.

 

"Sir, the Misfits are outside," Li's voice announced through the door.

 

"Alright, give me a minute," Sionis replied as he swatted Valentin away.

 

"Look lively, the strippers are here!" White yelled crassly, as he and Li led the Misfits into the parlour. The convoy, had arrived later than scheduled, having first stopped off at Kuttler's home, to allow him to recover various devices and gadgets he believed would be useful against Day and his apparent henchmen.

 

"Just remember," Drury was warning them, "Roman's not exactly our biggest fan. Because we keep trying to kill each other. So tread carefully." He paused, as he sniffed the air. "Did you just varnish this floor?" he addressed Sionis' bodyguards. "Smells great."

 

"Lynns!" Sionis greeted them, as he entered through the backdoor, adjusting his red tie as he made his way towards them.

 

"Mr Sionis, sir," Gar replied a little awkwardly, as the two shook hands firmly.

 

"Roman, son. Call me Roman. Here, sit down," he offered, pulling a chair out for his former employee, and handing him a crystal glass of whiskey. "You too, Flannegan."

 

Chuck looked like he was going to throw up. "Otis, he threw me off a building," he muttered in his ear.

 

"That's business, Brown, you gotta look past things like that," Flannegan responded, as he too accepted a glass from Sionis.

 

"Aha, Kite-Man," Sionis sneered, finally addressing the rest of the group. "How was your trip?"

 

"Eventful," Chuck responded.

 

"Oho, I'll bet," Sionis replied, recalling their last encounter with sadistic pleasure. "Please, as a sign of good faith; your comrade in arms." With the snap of his fingers, the door opened behind them, as Montgomery Sharpe was escorted in by Iron-Hat Ferris, and a rather familiar hooded figure. As Ferris made his way to Sionis' side, his attention was drawn to Gar and Rigger. "Aw, look, they come in different colours now, that's neat," he said mockingly.

 

As Gar's fist clenched, Joey instead pulled his arm back as if to say 'It's not worth it.'

 

"Hello everyone, happy holidays to you all," The Dragon King cheered. "Montgomery has told me all about you, of course," he elaborated, placing a hand atop Sharpe's shoulder.

 

"Love that guy," Sionis said. "Caught him raking through my dumpster for body parts a while back."

 

"Quite so," Ito said nostalgically. "When Mr Sionis first asked me to tend over Montgomery, I was hesitant, but during our weeks together, I have been most impressed by his growth and maturity."

 

"That Montgomery?" Reardon asked, noting Sharpe's uncharacteristically quiet composition.

 

Ito paused, as his reptilian eyes locked onto Drury, and his gaze softened. "Ah, of course, you must be Cliff Walker's boy. You look so very much like your father."

 

Ito's remark, was intended as a compliment, sure, but Drury had never felt sicker. He put on a fake smile, and thanked him.

 

"Alas, I'm afraid I cannot stay for the festivities," Ito admitted. "My daughter, Cynthia, is having a sleepover this weekend with her fellow classmates, and it is paramount I remain there to supervise her, to limit any potential ruckus. She gets awfully rebellious when she has too much sugar. But, you should know that I have cookie dough proofing in your fridge downstairs. Once it has been baked, it shall be splendid."

 

"Thank god," Sharpe whispered under his breath, as he finally exhaled. "He's a nice guy and all, but he eats pizza with a fork and he hides all the alcohol," he confessed to an appalled Blake. "Lost $200 to his fucking swear jar already."

 

"Montgomery?" Ito inquired in a paternalistic tone.

 

"I said ducking."

"A gun is only good when it is used by the right person. But the wrong person wielding it will only reap the consequences." - CT-2971 'Threat'

 

Narrator- "They say that a big gun doesn't make a big soldier, it only makes them look like an embarrassment and, somewhat, disappointing. Many clones in the Republic all basically carry DC-17 Blaster Rifles, Blasters or, for some, the Heavy Repeaters that can pack a punch. Each clone that had been cloned, trained and supervised have all gone under the choice of weapons that they chose or deemed worthy for their desires. Once they picked their weapons, they would go through months of hard and difficult training in order to really feel and get into character with their own weapons. Sounds odd, but accurately true.'

 

'However, one clone amongst many chose not to choose the three basically picked weapons. And that specific clone was CT-2971, or what many call him, Threat."

_________________________

 

(Dantooine, Clone Barracks, Three months after the Battle of Jabiim)

 

A few months after the Battle of Jabiim, inside one of the Clone Barracks, Threat, along with a few other members of the squad and army were taking the time to get some target practice done, considering they were pretty much bored out of their minds. They haven't had any contact with any Separatist forces for an entire week, and most of the clones were getting anxious, annoyed and impatient. So to kill some time, they all decided to at least shoot some targets during their free time.

 

Threat- "Refresh!"

 

Reloading his guns, he watches as the target refreshes the hologram image of a Super Battle Droid, clearing away the gun barrel holes from the image. Swiftly, Threat aims his pistol and blaster at the target, hitting the droid picture with another round of blazing lasers, penetrating through the image once again.

 

Figuring that he waisted enough ammo, he reloads his guns as the clips fell to the floor. Hitting the button next to him, the target picture suddenly slides up to him so he could get a good look on how he did. From what see saw, the image was half burned and ripped apart from the devestating attacks from his guns. From his perspective, it was a perfect and deadly success.

 

Threat- "Ah! Another clean hit. Nothing like the smell of a stentch of blaster fire to boil your blood up."

???- "So this is where you went, eh Threat ol' boy?"

 

The voice of that person made him cringe so. Slowly turning his head around, he was faced with none other than his clone brother, Degree, who was accompanied by Kydan, Calena and his commander, Breona. The look on Degree's face had a goofy grin that made you want to punch him for no apparent reason.

 

Degree- "We thought you went to the other barracks to go watch some Twi'lek dancers or something."

Threat- "It's to my best interest to only point and shoot droids, not go off and have some pleasure by watching some dancers."

Degree- "Aw, come on Threat! You might find yourself a good looking wife or something!"

 

Degree's jokes always made his blood boil in annoyance. In all honesty, he loved his brother. He may have been the opposite of him and all, but he did care about his brother and his squad very much. However, when Degree would start to act like this, he had the intuition to just punch the man right in the jaw. And that moment was now.

 

Threat- *Angrily* "Degree, I'll--"

Kydan- "Okay, okay, that's enough you two! I don't need another broken out firefight right in the middle of our own barracks, and I don't need the 'both of you' to start that."

 

Both of the clones backed off a bit, their expressions changing to a frown as they tried not to look over at their leader, guilt rushing over them.

 

Threat- "Y-yes sir, sorry sir."

Degree- "Yeah, me too sir."

Kydan- "Good. Now, to the point; what were you doing Threat?"

 

Getting some of his pride back, he gestures over to the targetting panel that was still filled with blaster fire from earlier as he shows them his DC-17 Blaster and pistol.

 

Threat- "Just making some good use with these, sir. Some of the boys and I were getting bored from just standing around and doing nothing, so we decided to come on over and shoot some targets to blow off some stress and what not."

Kydan- "Hm...that's understandable. It has been boring, considering that the Separatist hasn't made a move over the past week or so. I can see why you guys would want to do something like this."

 

Out of the three, only Breona and Degree understood why Threat would do something like this. If there wasn't anything to fight, you might as well blow off steam with some dummies for target practice. But for Calena, she didn't understand one bit.

 

Calena- "Not wanting to sound rude, but this makes no sense."

Kydan- "Why's that?"

Calena- "Why would you get so stress over on the peace and quietness we're receiving? Don't you like it that we don't have to fight any Separatist forces from time to time?"

Threat- "Sadly ma'am, my blood and cloning DNA is all about fighting. That's what we were breeded for; to fight a war and win a war, with guns in our bare hands. I couldn't see myself without a blaster in both of my hands. It doesn't feel right."

 

She still didn't get it. She knew that the clones were all bred and trained to mostly fight, but she would have thought that they would at least like the peace and quiet from time to time.

 

Calena- "I still don't understand..."

Kydan- "Give it a break trooper. Cale' over here will never understand about why quietness and peace doesn't fit well with us."

Calena- "Excuse me?! What did that mean?!"

 

Turning to face her, Kydan gave off one of his devious and goofy grins. That meant that he was about have fun with whatever he was about to start.

 

Kydan- "Well, obviously someone as yourself, your highness, you have never picked up a gun in your life, nor have ever shot one off. So you have no idea what we mean."

Calena- *Glare* "That's because guns aren't for Jedi like myself. Even Obi-Wan once said, 'Blasters and other guns are so uncivilized.' So why would I want to do so?"

 

And this was where thigns were about to go crazy.

 

Kydan- "Well that's because you're a woman."

 

That one sentence caused Calena to go from annoyance to extreme anger and a deadly cold glare. Even Breona, Degree and Threat himself were pretty shocked and scared at her sudden expressions. If they knew that Kydan was gonna do something stupid like this, they would have left them to do whatever. However, they were now stuck.

 

Calena- A woman?! All because I'm a woman?! Listen here, you bloody gyneros shinnre, I could woop your sorry can out of the barracks!

 

(Shinnre, it means clueless moron, or, in Star Wars terms, piece of Bantha fodder)

 

Kydan- "Oh? Is that a challenge I'm hearing, princess?"

Calena- "You bet your damn title it is! Threat! Lend me your blaster!"

Threat- "U-Uh...y-yes ma'am..."

 

Taking the gun away from Threat, she watches and waits as Kydan takes position where Threat had originally stood from and aims his pistol at the target in front of him.

 

Calena- "I doubt you can hit that target from that far..."

 

Smirking, and without even looking, he turns his head away from his target and pulls the trigger three times on his pistol, fire a triple shot of yellow blazing lasers at the hologrammed target. Satisfied, he pushes the button on the side as the frame detatches from its position and slid in front of them all.

 

What came next suprised every one of them. His shots had hit both the head, neck and stomach of the target perfectly. Threat, who was an expert on these things, was actually more suprised than everyone else. He had met someone like his officer who could make their shots precise with just a pistol and three shots. At this moment, he actually thought he had admired the Commander.

 

Calena- "Wh-Wha-?! B-But how the-?!"

Kydan- "Your turn, my lady."

 

Rapidly shaking her head, she huffs and pushes Kydan to the side in order to get her chance at the target. However, as she held the blaster in her hand firmly, she couldn't shake the feeling of nerves slithering up on her. She had never touched a gun before, let alone look at one up close before. She was pretty terrified.

 

Threat- *Whisper* "Has the general ever held a gun before, commander?"

Breona- *Whisper* "Not that I know of..."

Degree- *Whisper* "I guess we're gonna find out if she's good or not."

 

She could sense and feel the peering eyes on her. She knew that if she messed up, she would lose the fight with Kydan, and a bit of her own pride. So, shakily pointing the gun at the target, she tried her hardest to steady herself from making a grave mistake.

 

And with the use of only her finger, she pulls the trigger all the way as the shot flies out of the barrel. However, when her eyes were closed, she didn't see where she had shot at. Unfortunately, that was where everyone started to panic.

 

When the laser bolt flew out of the barrel, it had missed its designated target and hit the sides, causing the shot to bounce off the wall into another, repeating each action swiftly. Knowing that it was bad to stand, Kydan, Threat, Breona, Degree and all the other soldiers inside dropped to the floor quickly as they could before they got hit too.

 

When Calena saw them taking cover, she was utterly confused by this act. But when the shot passed right by her head, she quickly understood why and dropped to the floor herself as the laser bolt kept bouncing off the steel plated walls.

 

What felt like an eternity, the shot finally stopped, leaving the entire room filled with fire shot marks all over the barracks. Feeling that it was now safe enough, everyone on the floor began to stand up as they took in their surroundings, seeing the marks all over.

 

Threat- "Wow..."

 

Breona- "No joke."

Degree- "The general did all that?!"

Kydan- "Sheesh Cale', it was as if you wanted to kill us or something."

Calena- "I-I didn't mean it! The gun slipped!"

 

Kydan just scoffed at her, knowing well enough that it was not.

 

Kydan- "Yeah, sure! If the gun slipped, it wouldn't have triggered the outcome of your doing. Face it, you were too scared to hold the gun in place and just pulled the trigger with your eyes close, didn't you?"

 

Calena became angry once again at him. But, sadly and truly though, she knew he was definitely right. This was her first time holding a gun like that, so she wasn't sure how to really handle the thing. She made a serious note that when holding something like that is 'way' different than wielding a lightsaber.

 

However, either way, she wasn't about to let Kydan win this without a fight.

 

Calena- "Well...i-if it wasn't for your cocky smile and obnoxious noises, I would have done a better job."

 

That was when Kydan gave a devilish grin.

 

Kydan- "Really? You like my cocky smile huh?"

 

When he said that, her face quickly turned to a red blush.

 

Calena- "N-No! I didn't say that!"

Kydan- "But you implied."

Calena- *Blushes even more* "No I didn't! I'll show you!"

 

Just as she was about to aim and shoot the gun once again, Threat had grabbed his pistol out of her hands and pushed her to the side gently.

 

Calena- "Hey!"

Threat- "Sorry ma'am, but under these circumstances, I've seen quite enough of how you shoot. And...sorry about this ma'am, but you ain't good enough to hold any blaster whatsoever. This ain't for everybody ma'am. And out of all them, that someone is you...general."

 

Calena wanted to argue back at the soldier, but just sighed in defeat. It was definitely true; she wasn't one out of many to hold a blaster like that. She was better off wielding a lightsaber than such an uncivilized weapon like that. So instead of yelling, she sighed.

 

Calena- "Yeah...maybe your right, Threat."

 

Threat just blinked in response. He was right?

 

Threat- "...Excuse me, ma'am?"

 

Even Breona and Degree were a bit confused from that. They actually thought that the general would have yelled and scolded their brother for that comment, not be right about it.

 

Calena- "I'm a Jedi. I've been trained and honed to wield a lightsaber only. I wasn't taught how to hold or use a blaster before in my life. So I'm agreeing with you Threat; I ain't the kind of person to use something like that."

Threat- "Uh...of-of course, general."

 

Calena then turned to Kydan and sighed heavily. She didn't want to say it. Gosh, she really didn't like saying it at all, especially to him. But, in utter defeat, she had to.

 

Calena- "And...you were right too, Kydan."

 

Kydan- *Smirked* "Kinda figured. But don't take it too hard, Cale'. Not many people know how to hold a blaster so much. I didn't start using one til' a little while after the Battle of Taris. It took some time to get use to, but it just takes much practice. Besides, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually. I've seen you stuff like that before, and I know that you'll get even better later on. Your just like that is all."

  

 

As he finished his sentence, her faint pink blush returned to a beat red color. And that didn't go unnoticed by both Breona, Degree, and Threat, who out of the threew of them was confused as to why his general was blushing all of sudden. But quickly, he saw her shake her head quickly and just smile.

 

Calena- "Yeah, you're right. Thanks."

Kydan- *Wink* "No problem. Now, we should get back to the command center and update our status to the Jedi."

Calena-" Good idea. Breona, you coming?"

Breona- "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay here with the boys and shoot some targets myself. You two can go on ahead sirs."

Kydan- "Alright then. See ya' guys."

 

With that, Kydan and Calena leave the barracks and head over to the command center while Breona stayed and chatted with Degree and Threat.

 

And the first thing Threat wanted to ask was what Breona and Degree already knew from the beginning.

 

Threat- "Breona? Why was the general blushing at the commander like that?"

Breona- "Not too sure yet. But I have a strong feeling as to why though...

Threat- What would that be?"

Degree- "Well I definitely know what it will be...Commander Kydan is gonna get some bow-chicka-bow--OW!"

 

Before Degree could finish his sentence, Breona had hit him in the back of the head.

 

Breona- "Don't go off saying something like that, you idiot!"

Degree- *Moans* "Ow...but it's true sir!"

Threat- "What is?"

 

Breona- *Smirks* "The general has a thing for the commander."

Threat- "Thing? What do you mean?"

Breona- "You know...she, well...likes him."

Threat- "Well of course she likes him. They're our officers and both of them are friends, right? I would have thought that they liked each other that much."

 

As he finished, all Degree could was laugh histerically, falling down to the floor with a thud. Threat didn't understand why he was laughing whatsoever. He just thought that his brother had finally cracked his shell and was now broken.

 

Breona- "Well, yes, they are friends...but that's not what I meant trooper."

Threat- "Then what did you mean sir?"

Breona- "The general...has a crush on the commander. And that meaning...she loves him. However, she won't admit it to him nor anyone else."

 

It took a bit for Threat to finally understand what Breona said. But when he did, he looked a bit suprised. He didn't realize that the general liked the commander like that. He just thought they were like a brother and sister, but didn't realize that it was that far down the line, considering how they argued and challenged each other like that.

 

However, even though it was suprising, all he was able to do was just smirk at his brother. His eyes giving off a hint of glint in them.

 

Threat- "Hm...then I guess this will be an interesting war after all, sir. I gotta' say...this is gonna be one heck of a squad someday, especially with our commanding officers in charge of us."

_________________________

  

I gotta' say, I really enjoy making some different side comics with the crew. Even though they are based from different Clone Wars years that seperate from the series a bit, it really helps out considering that it describes who the clone is and how they really are when around their brothers or leaders. It will also show how they fitted into the main group in the near future. So I think we'll continue doing this, if it continues to do well. So if any of you liked what you saw and liked the little side stories, please let us know by showing your guy's constant support...or leave a simple fave to show your love.

 

So thank you all for your gracious supprot for our comic series, and please, continue to give us feedback on how the stories are going and what we could do to improve. Cause, after all, it always helps having great advise from you all. So again, thank you all and, as always, have a fan-tucking-tastic day/night! See ya' in the next one.

 

- Director K.W., CGN Crew Members

The camera/lens combination has a perfect balance. Here the clamping knobs are completely loosened. Yes, it's very slightly tilted, but still the camera doesn't fall aside, since this is its in-balance position.

 

The Zeiss Otus 1.4/55 on the Sony A7r:

my considerations and experiences (so far)

by Dirk De Paepe

  

A contradiction?

Putting the largest and heaviest lens on the smallest and lightest body… doesn't seem to be the smartest move, does it?!

Indeed, no other FF lens of standard focus length weighs more and is bigger than the Zeiss Otus 1.4/55, and no other FF body is smaller and lighter than the Sony A7r (at the time of this writing, february 2014). Combining those two indeed appears to be a major contradiction. Obviously.

But let me make another statement now.

Putting the best lens on the best sensor… makes a lot of sense, doesn't it?!

Indeed, the Otus was developed by Zeiss with only one simple goal: creating a full frame lens with the best possible image quality, to meet the demands of today's (and tomorrow's) full frame hi-res sensors, that are able to provide an IQ close to medium format cameras. Zeiss clearly felt the need for lenses that meet (and surpass) those sensor specifications. Therefore the Zeiss engineers received no restrictions whatsoever concerning size, weight and budget. So this lens is indeed big, heavy and expensive. What did you expect.

With the A7r, it's clear that Sony wanted to come up with nothing less than a masterstroke: combining the most advanced FF sensor with the smallest body, to offer the highest IQ in a FF body of today's market.

Yet it doesn't make too much sence to compare Sony's situation with Zeiss'. Already the life span of both products will differ significantly. The evolution in sensors and bodies rushes further at an incredible pace, with a continuous stream of major new announcements. Still, although every camera body that one can buy today can offer satisfactory results for quite some years, the life span of a good lens remains a lot longer and can be estimated as virtually a lifetime.

Nobody doubts the Otus IQ. And, as far as I followed publications about the A7r, all test reports stated that its IQ is at least at par with, if not surpasses this of the Nikon D800E (until recently the sole standard for hi-res FF sensors). So purely regarding IQ, paring the Otus with the A7r makes a lot of sence. Obviously.

So on Wednesday, October 16, minutes after the first official presentation of the A7/A7r - by Sony Australia on YouTube - I placed my order. This was the camera body that I had been waiting for since about 5 years, when I bought my first NEX-5. Ever since that moment, I had been thinking: "If only they'd make a full frame camera like this, with a good viewfinder and enough knobs for direct manual control of the basic parameters..."

The NEX-7 was already a big step forward, with the EVF as an unexpected bonus. And when the full frame RX-1 was launched, unfortunately not an IC body, I was sure that Sony was in the final straight line towards my dream camera. So that Wednesday morning, I didn't have to think it over for a second, because I already considered it for five years. During the whole presentation, I thought: "Yes!"

Also when the Zeiss Otus was announced to become available, I placed an order to get one of the first possible lenses that would ship to Belgium. The Otus 1.4/55 immediately tremendously appealed to me. Those who've read my first article, being published on this site, won't be surprised, since my love for Zeiss goes back some 50 years. What I love about Zeiss can be summarized as: achieving the highest possible quality but still selling for reasonable, not Leica-crazy prices (sorry, Leica). All test reports about the Otus spoke of the most extra-ordinary full frame lens of all time, better than the Leica Apo-Summicron, that more than doubles its price. The Otus is said to be virtually perfect in all domains that really matter. OK, it's not perfect in ALL domains, but that wouldn't be of this world, would it. It's big and heavy, actually the biggest and heaviest standard focal length glass on the market. It's probably not really completely weather sealed, it's not suitable for autofocus, it has no image stabilization and it scratches pretty easily (that's what I read, so I try to handle it with great care). Oh yeah, it's also pretty expensive.

 

Two versions of Otus

The Zeiss Otus 1.4/50 comes in two versions: the ZE for Canon mount and the ZF.2 for Nikon. Both versions can be used with the A7r - of course with different adapters. (BTW, also the Sony comes in two versions, A7 and A7r, but there has been written enough about this on this website.)

The construction of the optics are identical with both lenses, which implies that the distance from the back lens to the sensor is the same (as it is with all "pairs" of Zeiss ZE and ZF.2 SLR lenses). So the "mounting foot" of each version is adapted to the specific camera body it is designed for, which is a bit shorter (some 3mm) on the ZF.2, due to Nikons longer FFD (flange focal distance = distance from flange to sensor). Thus, when mounting an Otus on the A7r, the appropriate adapter for the ZF.2 version will be 3mm thicker than the one for the ZE. But the total length of the camera/adapter/lens combination will be exactly the same for both - necessarily so, to make the optics work. (The camera is measure from the point where the sensor is mounted in the body.)

Besides the mounting, there are some other obvious differences. The ZF.2 has an aperture ring, which lacks on the ZE. Here the aperture must be set from the camera body. So there is an automation mechanism in the lens that makes the ZE 60g heavier and a bit fatter at the rear end. Yet, on the ZF.2, the aperture ring locks when set to f/16, allowing shutter speed priority (according to the manual), and thus automated aperture setting. With some bodies, it would even be possible to chose whether the aperture is set from the lens or the body. Because the lens manual indicates this, I don't doubt it for a second. But I didn't try it.

 

Which one to choose?

It took me quite some time to make up my mind about which version to choose for my A7r. Initially, I made the following considerations. The A7r has two customizable turning knobs on top of the body, one for thumb control, the other for the index finger. Aperture and shutter time control can be programmed to those, which makes sense, when using the ZE version. Also, I noticed that on the press presentation, the ZE was used in combination with the A7r. So this must mean something, no? They used the Metabones Smart Adapter Mark III (make sure to order the Mark III), which is that one adapter on the market that I'd trust to do the job for the Otus ZE. With some cheap EF to E (former NEX) adapters, you just loose the aperture control. (At the time of this writing) I'm really astonished that those are even on the market. Who for heavens sake would settle for only being able to shoot wide open? Then there are adapters that provide build in aperture blades. Neglecting the aperture system of the lens, those adapters offers an "ersatz" set aperture blades... ? I never tried one of those, and I never will, because, for sure, the character of your lens' bokeh will be lost. So everything else but the Metabones is definitely a no-go for the ZE, IMO. Luckily the Metabones works really well (with one restriction - I'll come to that later). It transmits all necessary electronic data perfectly back and forward. BTW, (at the moment of this writing and to my knowledge) there is no adapter on the market that does the same job for the ZF.2, so there's no data exchange, no lens Exif data available, no lens control from the body, although, in case of the ZF.2, that's not really dramatic, since the aperture can be set on the lens. To finish this off, all ZF.2 controls (Nikon-style) work in reverse to what I'm used to, which I thought can be confusing sometimes. Concerning the weight, I considered the extra 60g of the ZE to be not really important, in regard to the total lens weight of around 1kg. So it's clear that I ordered a ZE Otus and a Metabones adapter. (Recently I noticed the appearance of some other data exchanging adapters that are a lot cheaper than the Metabones. But I would be very reluctant to buy a cheap adapter for the Otus, in regard to the problems this can cause - I come to that later.)

The adapter arrived first, even before my A7r. When picking up my camera at the shop, first thing I did was mounting the adapter and putting on a Canon EF lens from the shop, to see if everything worked out alright. And it did! Flawlesly. Even the autofocus beeped and nailed. So my A7r's DSC00001 picture is shot in full automatic mode with a Canon Zoom lens! I just went outside the shop, pointed and shot - no thinking, just pushing the button. Being a 100% manual shooter, using prime lenses solely, this must be a unicum for both my camera and myself! :-)

Later, a friend of mine lent me his Zeiss Planar 1,4/50 ZE, to compare it to my own Planar 2/50 ZM. It also offered me the opportunity to further try out my Metabones adapter, imagining how it would operate with the Otus, once it would arrive. And then I made some remarkable observations. First of all: regardless of the set aperture, the lens always stayed wide open, until the moment the release button is pushed (Canon shooters will be familiar with that). I found that very inconvenient, making it impossible to estimate the DOF in the viewfinder and not consistent at all to what I'm used to with the other lenses I have, like the Zeiss ZMs. But I knew this problem could be solved. Canon has a designated button to check the DOF, and indeed, one can program the implementation of the set aperture under one of the customizable push buttons of the A7r, to obtain this function as well. Problem solved. At least, that's what I thought initially... The DOF is indeed veraciously visible. But when using my other prime lenses, the A7r makes it possible to check the DOF very precisely in the viewfinder, by magnifying critical zones (as a matter of fact, the EVF can magnify any zone I want). Especially when hyperfocusing, I consider this a unique and major quality - "modern manual shooting", so to speak. And here the ZE (and all Canon EF mount lenses) cause a problem, since it's impossible to combine closing the aperture blades to the set value (holding down the designated button) with the viewfinder magnification function (for which we need to push another button - it's exactly the simultaneous activation of two functions that's impossible). But again, one has tried to provide a solution. This time, Metabones did an effort by features two operation modes on their adapter: Green and Advanced. First of all, it's not evident to know of those modes, since there comes no manual with the package, nor is there any mentioning that the manual can be found on the Metabones website. The adapter is set to Green mode by default, featuring an operation as described above. The activation of the Advanced mode is very simple: mount the adapter, switch the camera power on and mount the lens on the adapter, while holding down the "wide open" button of the adapter. In Advanced mode, the lens blades will always directly adjust to the set aperture. So there's no longer need to activate two functions at the same time, which indeed ensures the detailed checking of the DOF in VF magnification mode. Still there remains a serious handicap with respect to the ZF.2 version, since the ZE doesn't allow finetuning of the DOF while monitoring in magnification mode. That is, in VF magnification mode, the wheel with which you set the diafragm gets another function, namely moving the magnified zone to the left and right. Maybe Sony will eventually come up with a software upgrade to fix this, but that's not a certainty of course. So what is the exact difference ? Both versions offer the detailed checking of the DOF in VF magnification mode. But with the ZE, this is done in a static way: set the aperture and magnify to check. If you wanna change, leave the magnification mode, set a different aperture and check again. With the ZF.2 on the other hand, you can do this in a direct interactive way: go to VF magnification mode and determine the DOF by fine tuning the aperture ring on the lens, while monitoring the changes in the VF. Fast, simple and accurate. IMO the ZE version makes a lot of detours to end up with a crippled functionality. And on top of it, it's pretty battery consuming, since every change of aperture requires battery power.

Anyway, at this moment, it's a no-go for me, and I guess the ZE will never enthuse me. I really can't think of any real advantage that a body set aperture has - not one. I consider Exif-data interesting, but not really vital (although I'd welcome a Novoflex ZF.2 adapter with electronic signal transmission to remind me of the set aperture) and I look upon aperture setting on the body as an unnecessary detour. But interactively fine tuning the DOF to precision on the other hand, I consider that to be a vital operation for "modern manual shooting", especially when using a hi-res lens on a hi-res sensor. (No OVF offers this possibility. That's one of the reasons why I believe that the EVF has the future.)

So I changed my Otus order to a ZF.2 version, bought a Novoflex NEX/NIK adapter with tripod collar (necessary IMO) and put my Metabones for sail. Yes, I'll have to live with the inverse settings and mounting of the "Nikon-style" lens, but hey, there's no ideal world, is there...

Furthermore, choosing the ZF.2 has even more advantages. The possibility to mount a tripod collar on the adapter improves the camera's balance on the tripod, since the tripod base plate of the collar protrudes a few cm. The Metabones has a tripod base too, but this one is positioned closer to the body, changing the balance. And when shooting OOH, you can't remove this plate, which "scratched" my left hands fingers from time to time (nothing serious really, but still…). Another point: when using the Otus, I like to mount the vertical grip on the body (which is a no-go in combination with the Metabones, because it inhibits any upwards tilting). This grip substantially contributes to improve the balance of the lens/body combination. I've read in several reviews that the Otus would not really be suitable for the A7r, for reasons of unbalance when OOH shooting. I strongly disagree! (See hereunder in the "Balance" chapter.) Just buy the vertical grip and you'll experience a completely different story. I know some criticized the A7r's ergonomics, the knobs not being positioned in the places where they expected them. But isn't that just a matter of getting used to it? I know that's how it worked for me. And of course, some thorough consideration, about where to program the functions you always wanna keep at hand, helps a lot. What I like about the A7r is that it offers all the possibilities to work without having to pass through the menu and that I can blindly find all the functions I need.

Oh yeah, last advantage of my choice for the ZF.2 version: it gives me the instant overview of focal distance, aperture and DOF scale with a single glance on the lens - as traditional primes do and as it should IMO (I'm old fashioned in that department). This is shown in my picture "Aperture on lens".

 

Why the Otus?

Why should any A7r owner buy the Otus anyway? Well, I can only tell you why I bought it.

Since the time Leica launched its M8, I started dreaming of it and later of the M9. I also could see very interesting lenses being reviewed for those cameras. Now I don't easily sell my lenses, since good ones can virtually last a lifetime, and it's the glass above all that determines the character of the image (next to the photographer of course). Some of those reviewed lenses were very appealing to me indeed, but most of them crazy expensive. First of all I think of the Noctilux and Summilux. The latter, being a lot less expensive, was still a no-go for me, regarding it's price/performance relation. I found a much healthier relation offered by Zeiss, still being of top level (sometimes even outperforming Leica IMO) but being sold for 2 to 3 times less money. It's clear I went for Zeiss.

The first reports on the Otus immediately pulled me over. Here was a lens that outperforms all my former dream-lenses and is still payable - with some effort admittedly (but that's a personal matter). That's my motivation, plain and simple.

 

The Otus Image Quality

From the very first reports, literally everybody that tried this lens was somewhere between impressed and flabbergasted by its IQ. What I read was that it performs close to perfection for all criteria, at all apertures and in the whole picture up to the extreme corners. The superlatives were flying around. It has the finest detail in all apertures and throughout the whole image, (close to) no flare, no distortion, no CA, incredible micro contrast, the smoothest bokeq (front and hind equally). Read the reviews for all the details... The comments of the reviewers are that homogeneous that I couldn't but believe them. And having a more than 50 years experience with Zeiss myself, it only allowed me to be even more confident. So I really immediately ordered without any doubt.

But the question is: now that I've got it, does it live up to my expectations? Short answer: indeed it does, in every way! I had been searching for all possible Otus pictures online, but still, looking at the first images that I shot myself, really made my jaw drop. I spend minutes, looking at all details on all places, trying to absorb what I saw. Yes, this was really happening! No anomalies in whatever parameter. Detail and (micro) contrast like I've never seen before in my pictures. No need for sharpening. An incredibly soft bokeh, with super smooth transitions, especially when setting the sharpening to zero. And the bokeh is of an equal beauty in front and behind the focus point. Do I need to say more? Well, I'll try: think of anything you want and the Otus will probably outperform any FF lens you know. Combined with the A7r, the files offer not only tremendous detail, they are very workable as well. Not that you need to process them a lot, but you can, if you wanna go for a certain image that you have in mind. Of course the sensor has a huge participation herein. In "Glass Doll", I wanted to emphasize the green color in the glass. I literally pushed every relevant parameter in RAW conversion to the limit (really to the max), just to see how far I could go. And the result still remains very credible IMO. Notwithstanding the very fierce processing, the bokeh and the color transitions remain a treat for the eyes. This one was shot at f/1.4 and the focusing took half a minute or so, to have it exactly on and equally divided amongst the eye, noose and mouth of the doll. The full size version is available on my flickr page - I advise you to look at it to really see what's going on with the color transitions and the details in the glass. All of a sudden, all the tiny faults in the glass become visible in a way that refers to macro shooting. The small focal distance, close to the minimum of 45cm, combined with the hi-res sensor makes this happen.

The Otus is specially conceived for hi-res sensors. So the detail is really important. That's why I wanted to apply this detail in some of my pictures. In "Bicyclist under trees" I hyperfocused, wanting to get everything sharp, from closest to farthest object. Hyperfocusing with a 55mm lens is far from obvious, the DOF getting considerably smaller with this focal lenght. A Zeiss sales manager told me: "I wouldn't buy this lens that much for hyperfocusing purposes." But personally, I believe it's really possible, although this requires a very precise focus setting. The detail remains at such a high level throughout the whole field, that IMO it is absolutely possible to hyperfocus with the Otus. The EVF of the A7r, that combines checking the DOF (the amount of detail) in focus magnification really helps in this case. (I don't wanna work without EVF anymore!) I absolutely wanted to try hyperfocusing, since this is an excellent way to get detail all over the picture, and as such to prove the exceptional quality of the Otus. Looking at this picture, you can see that even in the corners (especially obvious in the upper left and lower right corners) the IQ remains excellent and consistent.

When looking at the objects far beyond the focal point, there is still detail, but the image is unmistakably becoming a bit softer, because those objects are situated at the very end of the field, if not slightly beyond (indicated by the DOF scale). It's still at par with most lenses at "normal" aperture, while this one was being taken at f/16. In this picture, I really pushed the hyperfocal possibilities to the limit, by focusing at around 7m. On flickr you can get a 100% image, for you to really see what I'm talking about. I thought the detail, especially in the branches on the left, is flat out amazing.

I guess IQ is best experienced when shooting yourself, because everybody is used to get a certain IQ level, when opening his own pictures out of camera. You never now what kind of processing was done on somebody else's picture, but when looking with a fresh eye at your own shots, you can more easily compare. I can honestly say, that I was really deeply impressed when looking at the first shots of my A7r, but I was flat out flabbergasted when looking at the first shots of my Otus. And what I absolutely wanna emphasize on, is how workable those Otus/A7r files are. You can really underexpose and retrieve beautiful natural colors out of close to black zones. Also the opposite is possible: retrieving colors from over exposure. This PP can be done to a really amazing level as I never new before - not by far. Again, the sensor has a huge participation herein.

Why should any A7r owner buy the Otus? There is only one answer: for its flabbergasting image quality, especially combined with the A7r. IMO those two pair amazingly well. This combination will not only deliver a top level IQ, you will also have great cropping power. "Overview" is an example hereof. Cutting off the women from her surroundings, was an obvious choice. But since I couldn't get any closer, I needed to crop this picture to 27,5%. Still the image remains pretty detailed. Who needs a zoom?!

I'd like to add something now, about the character of the Otus 1.4/55, when shooting with very large DOF. This is done by using the hyperfocal DOF technique: small aperture and (with this lens) focusing around 7m renders a picture where pretty much everything is in "acceptable focus". To my experience, typical for Otus is that the image remains very sharp with a defined but still gentle transition to blur in front of the focus point, and that it renders a bit of softness in the farthest zone of the field, while still retaining a lot of detail. As a result of this character (razor sharp detail versus a bit softer detail), the Otus can render an amazing 3D separation, even when applying the widest possible DOF and thus retaining detail all over the picture. This was definitely a very pleasant surprise to me, literally granting an extra dimension to the picture. I had always thought that, to obtain a good separation, one needed to shoot with larger apertures, but Otus expanded the boundaries here. In "Forest, canal and factory", you can see what I mean, the trees and bushes really popping out of the background.

 

Why not a faster lens than a f/1.4?

I have been fantasizing about a Leica Noctilux for years, I have even been very close to buying an SLR Magic Hyperprime T0.95 and I reckon I'm not the only one. I guess many would have liked Zeiss as well to come up with such a hyper fast lens, for them to "play in the same league". But I have only seen pictures shot with those hyper fast lenses of at most 24MP. By stepping up from the NEX-7 (24MP) to the A7r, I experienced that with a 36MP sensor (let alone even more MPs in the future), focusing at f/1,4 becomes extremely critical - the more with the hyper detailed Otus. I guess Zeiss regarded it as useless to go any faster, in any case, that's exactly how I feel it, now that I own and shoot with the Otus. In pictures like "Bicycle parking", a typical OOH street shot, where the moving subject obliges you to focus fast and constantly readjust, it's extremely difficult to nail the focus perfectly. I took four shots of this girl, trying to catch the most significant moment, but only in half of them I nailed the focus to what I consider an acceptable level, when looking at full size, that is. I was pretty pleased with this one, beautifully illustrating the scene, but as a matter of fact, the focus is perfect on the handle bars of the bike and "acceptable" on the girls face. I would rather have it the other way round, but if I would be that demanding, my percentage of keepers would drop dramatically. I have to say, it's only when looking at 100% that one can see the difference in focus quality, but if you don't look in that much a detail, what's the use of using the Otus anyway? (Yes, I know, there's a lot more to the Otus than just the detail, but still we can't disregard it.) All in all, with a f/0.95 lens of this optical quality, combined with a 36MP sensor, I guess nailing the focus in this kind of circumstances would be a matter of sheer luck…

Even to exactly nail the focus on a still subject at f/1.4, the Otus requires an extremely careful and precise setting, regarding how quick the blur occurs (again, when looking at 100%), to the extend that I absolutely wonder if I would even want to use any faster glass, and, in regard of the wonderful 3D separation and the absolutely gorgeous bokeh of the Otus, if there's really anything further to gain. When I think of how much bigger and (even more important) how much heavier such a f/0.95 lens would be, provided that Zeiss would want to obtain the same optical quality, there's no way that I would have even considered for a second to buy such a lens. I really don't want to carry and handle a standard focal length lens of >2kg! You think I exaggerate? Just think of the Noctilux being more than twice as heavy as the Summilux… BTW, such a lens would probably sell for about double the price. So it's a no-go on all fronts. But most importantly, I truly believe that the gain would be of very little use, if not virtually nonexistent because of it being next to impossible to exploit. And if Zeiss was to produce a f/0.95 lens of about the same size, weight and price of the Otus, in addition to the present 1.4/55, the choice would go between a significantly better optical quality in the 1.4/55 version, versus a very questionable gain of speed in the f/0.95 version. As far as I'm concerned, I'm absolutely happy with the choices Zeiss made and I'm 100% "cured" from my "hyper fast lens fever". :-)

Another few words on the Bicycle Parking picture. I slid the sharpening in the RAW converter back to 0% and didn't use any unsharp mask, preferring to preserve the hyper smooth bokeh and grain, which would always become harsher when adding even the smallest amount of sharpening or unsharp mask. I really would like you to go watch this picture on my flickr page in full size version, to appreciate the quality of grain and bokeh that this lens renders. To my taste, although the background buildings make for pretty nervous and busy surroundings, the grain and transitions are still from an utterly butter-smooth quality as I've never seen before and, what's even more exceptional, this counts for both front and hind bokeh to the same extend. In the places where the focus is perfect, the detail is absolutely impressive, until recently pretty unthinkable at f/1.4. Still, there is indeed a tiny slight degree of softness here, where at smaller apertures the Otus becomes bitingly sharp. But IMO this slight softness is absolutely desirable when going for bokeh. To conclude about this picture, this wasn't an attempt to realize the most spectacular shallow DOF - the focus distance was way to long for that - rather than it was to 3D-separate the subject and realize a beautiful bokeh, while still transmitting information of the surroundings. This is how I prefer to use shallow DOF. Oh yeah, this picture was first cropped to 88% and than (obviously) cropped to square, which diminishes the shallow DOF effect to some extend. But I'm not one who's really into pursuing the most spectacular shallow DOF, merely for the sake of the "effect".

It's also important to look at the 100% size picture (flickr), to see how shallow the DOF really becomes, when shooting with the Otus on a 36MP sensor - or in other words, how early the blur occurs, when looking in full detail. Looking at 100%, you'll see how precarious the focusing becomes (compare the handle bars and the face) and you'll probably agree that f/1.4 really is the widest meaningful aperture.

 

The issues

No concept is without issues. No camera serves every purpose. No lens pleases every photographer. So how do I deal with the most common published issues of the Otus, particularly in combination with my A7r? And do I experience some issues myself?

Here are the possible issues that I can think of and/or that I read about:

- Loosing the compact concept of the A7r.

- Adapter issues.

- Ending up with a poorly balanced camera/lens combination with poor handling.

- Early induced motion blur when shooting OOH.

- Hyper delicate focusing.

- Manual focusing only.

- No image stabilization.

- A very big, heavy and expensive lens.

Let's look at those issues one by one.

 

Loosing the compact concept of the A7r

As a matter of fact, I don't feel like loosing this. Like probably any buyer, I chose the A7r for it's compact size and light weight, combined with its FF sensor. Steve mentioned it frequently: "With a heavy DSLR, I'd miss a lot of pictures, because 85% of the time, I'd leave it at home." Same for me. So most of the time I have my A7r in my bag, body without vertical grip, the Zeiss Planar ZM on it and two extra lenses of different focal length as backup. Total weight around 1,6kg, bag included. That's the weight of my wife's purse. Camera/lens in a smaller bag (without backup lenses) will weigh around 900gr. When I go out shooting with the Otus, this will mostly be the only lens I carry, because I will more have a plan on forehand of what to shoot. Camera with grip plus lens weigh a good 1900gr. My tripod another 1300gr. Adding the bags gives me a total weight of 4,25kg. Too much to carry all the time, IMO (that's why I have my "compact formula"), but not that much when going out on a dedicated "shooting trip". Last situation, when going out for OOH shooting with the Otus, I carry 2,4kg with me. Still very manageable.

I often think of my A7r as a kind of chameleon. It can really adapt to any situation. So do I loose the compact concept of my camera? Not at all. I believe the A7r only offers opportunities. Whenever I wanna travel light, the A7r offers me this possibility. On other times, when I wanna go for uncompromising quality, again the A7r helps me out. I don't wanna go compact on every shoot, but whenever I want, I can. So what did I loose? Nothing. I only gained.

 

Adapter issues

The most important problem (that I experienced) with inferior adapters are planarity issues. No surface is perfectly plane. But if the deviation is too big, one side will focus closer then the other. So it will be impossible to focus consistently throughout the whole image. For many pictures, this will hardly be seen, but on some occasions (for instance technical or architectural pictures), you really can get into trouble. Surely, you don't wanna ruin your Otus with a lousy cheap adapter. So my advice is not to economize on the adapter and always perform test shots immediately after buying. Personally, I've put my trust in Novoflex adapters. I even tried putting two on top of each other (NEX-M and M-FD) and then shooting a flat surface positioned perpendicular in regard to the lens. I shot with the Canon FD 1,4/50mm wide open, to induce the blur as early as possible, focused on one corner and I could not observe any irregularity in how blur occurred in the four corners. This was not a scientific test, but it was good enough for me. I'm sure that Novoflex stays way below acceptable tolerances. Still, testing every new purchase remains mandatory IMO.

Another adapter issue is that often the adapter makes the lens to focus beyond infinite. But the Zeiss engineers themselves conceived the Otus to focus beyond infinite, to oblige the photographer to carefully focus in all circumstances. So can we really talk about an issue here? Not regarding it having percussions on the focusing process anyway. But if the shift is too big (which was the case with some cheap adapters I've tried), you'll lose a considerable part of your closest focal distance. And again, that's a no-go.

Conclusion: don't economize on the adapter(s).

 

Balance

First thing I thought when I started shooting the Otus was: this is a lens for tripod use! So let's talk about that first.

Until I got the Otus 1.4/55, my "personal" photography (that is: for personal use, just for fun, the shots that were not mentioned for our publications) was almost all shot OOH. But I knew from what I read that with the Otus, I'd want a tripod. So I bought a new one, since the one we use for product shooting is much to heavy to carry. Now I have to admit that my experience with tripods "on the road" was non-existent. After reading some articles and talking with a few guys, I bought a Sirui lightweight one (1310gr, ballhead included). But a few days later, when commenting on an editorial online, I started to doubt wether or not I made the right choice, after someone said he was sorry that I didn't buy a really good and more stable tripod, like a Gitzo. That was even before the Otus arrived. So to check it out, I mounted a Canon FD 200mm tele with 2x-A Extender on my A7r, to get a weight that matched the Otus and I shot the same images with the Sirui tripod and a heavy Benbo. Looking at 100%, indeed I saw some slight but still noticeable motion blur with the Sirui - about half of what I got when shooting OOH. But then I thought of the hook, at the bottom of the central pole, and attached my bag to it to increase the weight, in an attempt to enhance stabilization. And it did the job: the motion blur was gone. Since I didn't want to spend another €1500 or so at this time, after the €3500 for the Otus, I planned to stick to the Sirui and just use my bag as extra weight.

But then I got the Otus. And since I bought the ZF.2 version, I use the dedicated Novoflex collar, attached on the adapter of the same brand, to mount the camera/lens on the tripod. This collar provides a mounting point a few cm further away from the camera body. And to my pleasant surprise, when also mounting the vertical grip to the body (which I always do when using the Otus), I got nothing less than a perfect balance from this camera/lens combination. Even with the clamping knobs completely loosened (hold your breath!), the camera stays perfectly horizontal, thus in absolute balance. My picture "Tripod balance" shows the camera on the tripod with completely loosened clamping knobs, the camera still not falling aside. This perfect balance has two consequences: 1) the framing can easily and quickly be performed to perfection, since there is no more movement whatsoever after tightening the clamping knob, and 2) the weight is equally distributed amongst the three legs, increasing the stability and as such eliminating motion blur even without hanging extra weight to the central pole hook. Conclusion: chances are real that I will never have to buy a €1000+ tripod. I simply don't see where it could improve my performance. Oh, and when comparing tripod work between the A7r and a traditional DSLR (like the D800): since you'll mount the DSLR with the body on the tripod, instead of via a collar, the weight of the Otus (1kg!) will cause some serious unbalance, compared to the A7r. So I guess the advantage clearly goes to the A7r in this department.

After a week or two of tripod work, I felt the urge growing, to use the Otus for OOH shooting as well. In the articles that I read, there were quite some questions put, regarding OOH shooting with the Otus on the A7r. Those made me reluctant to shoot OOH for some time. But like I said, the urge was growing.

Anyway, in the meanwhile, I removed the tripod collar, because its long tightening screw really sits in the way of the right hand fingers, when shooting OOH. If you'd wanna go back and forward between tripod and OOH shooting, you can also twist the collar to the left, to move it out of the way of your fingers. BTW, twisting the color gave me the idea to use this position for vertical framing on tripod as well, since as such the perfect balance on the ballhead is remained. Indeed, it can remain upright, because the 90° twist is performed by the camera within the collar.

But let's get back to OOH shooting. When holding the camera with the right hand and using a "free" left hand for focusing (as I'm used to do with a lightweight camera/lens), the 1kg Otus makes the front really too heavy. Your right hand will get tired very quickly. I think this is a no-go. The balance is absolutely lost. Already after a very short while, it will be very hard to hold the camera still and you will induce motion blur very quickly, needing even faster shutter times. In short: your performance will suffer from it. A 36MP sensor already asks for a faster shutter speed, since the motion blur is earlier induced - that's a fact. Coming from the 24MP NEX-7, I didn't expect this to be that prominent, but It's as if a threshold has been taken: I really need to set the shutter speed faster. Of course, when reducing the resolution of the picture in PP, I can shoot with the same speeds as before, but with an A7r, you wanna use its full abilities at least sometimes, don't you. So the faster shutter speed becomes a reality at that point. When using an A7r with a lightweight lens like a Zeiss Planar ZM, resulting in a mere 720gr for the camera/lens combination, it's not easy to hold everything stable. One simply needs to shoot with extra care. But when mounting a hyper precise, super detailed lens like the Otus, that ads 1kg front weight, you might expect it to get worse. But as a matter of fact the weight will help a lot, if you carry it with your left hand. I did some experimenting with holding technique and got some extra-ordinary results.

Having never been afraid of exploring new paths, I experimented with alternative ways of holding the camera, to tackle the weight and balance issues. And it didn't take me long to find out the most stable way to hold the camera - it almost came to me spontaneously. The Otus has large fixed zones, that can easily be used to hold and support the camera+lens. I have the A7r handgrip rested on the cushion of my hand palm, near my wrist. My thumb supports the fixed ring between focus and aperture. My index finger points forward and supports the lens, centrally below the front end. My middle finger is located at the right side on the focus ring. My ring finger holds on to the same fixed ring as my thumb. And my little finger is on the aperture ring. Middle and little finger can operate their respective rings. Zeiss has coated those rings with the exact covering material (and provided a butterly smooth yet perfect feedback giving operation) to be set easily with one finger. Of course the focus can only be fine tuned in this way, since it features a 270° turn from min to max. But it's exactly the fine focusing that's really delicate and takes extra care, right before pushing the release button, so that works out perfectly. A 270° turn is large indeed, but IMO that's what's absolutely needed, to offer enough "play" when fine focusing this lens at f/1.4! Also the aperture doesn't need more than to be fine-tuned, when looking through the viewfinder, that is: I only might want to adjust the DOF very slighty at that point. Anyway, holding the camera in this way provides an absolutely exceptional stability, the index finger playing a crucial role, by supporting the very front of the lens and the whole camera resting on one stable surface. You absolutely don't need to "grab" the camera - it's just lying relaxed and comfortably in your left hand. And with your elbow resting on your chest, you barely need to use any muscle power to hold it, and your hand has a direct connection with your body. My picture "Left hand balance" shows you how the camera is lying in my left hand. You'll use your right hand for operation of all functions (except for focus and aperture) - all knobs of the A7r are very conveniently located at the right side of the body for that matter, except the menu button, that you never have to use during shooting, since every function that you need can be programmed under the customizable buttons. And of course the right hand also provides extra safety, should anybody give you an unexpected push. Thanks to this really exceptional stability and balance, you only need to use very little muscle power and wont get tired that soon. Muscle power induces instability, hence motion blur. No muscle power means relaxation. Relaxation means stability, hence absence of motion blur. As a matter of fact, the size (enabling a large support surface) and weight (largely contributing to the stability without becoming too heavy) of the Otus/A7r (with grip) have become big advantages as far as OOH shooting is concerned. Of coarse it's still a considerable weight that you're holding. And after several minutes staying in the same position without moving, some tension will arise. But it's very rare to stay unmoved that long.

An unexpected stroke of luck: while my hand has a reverse position (thumb to the left) with this lens in comparison to its position with other lenses (thumb to the right), there's actually no other technique needed, to set focus and aperture, neutralizing the "inverse Nikon-style". Streching my middle finger results in focusing closer in both cases, pulling it back moves the focus point further towards infinite.

 

Shooting out of hand at 1/10 sec!

I can understand you being skeptical when reading this. Therefore I wanted to give you some kind of proof and I wanted to push it to the limit. My "Selfie" was shot in manual mode in front of a mirror, giving you proof that it's absolutely an OOH shot. I've also put this picture on my flickr pages, in full resolution, with published Exif data. Please check it to verify. You'll notice that this is indeed a 1/10s shot, with the Otus mounted on the 36MP A7r. Pretty amazing, isn't it. Please click on the link to choose the full size 36MP file. This is a converted RAW file with zero sharpening applied. I only flipped this picture 180° to get rid of the mirror image. I focused on the text at the bottom of the lens. And as a matter of fact, the lens front is the only thing in focus in the whole picture, whereby the in focus area is that small, that it almost seems as if the whole picture is blurred. Still, what I wanted to show here was the extreme balance of the camera and so I chose one precisely defined focus point, with zero margin for error. In this case, you absolutely must look at 100% to even notice that there really is something in perfect focus. The extreme shallow DOF, due to the f/1.4 aperture, makes the blur set in very quickly. So the stability of the camera was not only required in left/right and up/down directions, but also in back/forward. OK, on tripod, the result would probably have been yet even a bit better. Still, to my eye, this is a pretty good OOH shot - as good as it gets. But remember, this one was shot at 1/10s. Needless to say that this would be plain impossible if the A7r/Otus combination would offer less than a perfect OOH balance. I wonder (and even doubt) if this can be improved by the D-800E/Otus combination. So in this department, I guess the A7r is at least at par with the best DSLRs. I rest my case.

Don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying that 1/10s is a normal OOH shutter speed for the A7r/Otus, because it isn't. What I'm saying is that, with the right technique, this camera/lens combination provides an exceptional balance, otherwise I could impossibly have succeeded in taking this shot. What I'm also saying is, that, where one expects to need faster shutter speeds, due to the hi-res sensor and hyper precise lens, one can actually work with "normal" speeds and even go slower. When applying a minimum of care, I consider 1/30s as a normal feasible shutter speed for this combination. I took my first Selfie-testshots in aperture priority mode. I operated very carefully and succeeded from the first shot, which appeared to be taken at 1/13s. That's when I thought; let's push this to the limit. So I switched to Manual mode, kept the aperture at f/1.4 and set the shutter speed at 1/10. I missed the first two shots and realized that I needed to hold the release button longer, beyond the moment of the shutter's closing. Keeping it down gave me my third picture, the one you can see. BTW, the A7r release button helps a lot for this kind of shots. It has a very soft action, without resistance point - some call it "spongy" and that's correct. For many applications, one could prefer more definition, but for this kind of use, it's absolutely a benefit. Furthermore, and this is IMO, for normal "action" shots (in my case that's mostly candid people shooting) the shutter release button requires some habituation, but isn't problematic at all.

 

Delicate focusing

This is absolutely the matter. This lens/sensor combination reveals every detail, as no other FF does (the D800E does as well, of course). Result: when looking in 100% size (and again, you need to do this - where would you otherwise use this combination for), the out-of-focus is induced quite a bit earlier than what we were used to. Of course, with smaller apertures the margin gets bigger, but as you approach the f/1.4 it really gets tough. And wide open, even on a tripod, you need to proceed with great care. The viewfinder magnification function is no unnecessary luxury in this.

Yet I need to add that when shooting for "normal" formats (using less MP), the focusing can be done as easy and fast as with any other lens. And with the A7r EVF, you don't need any special assistance. In the parts that are in focus, the EVF produces an almost overly sharp image. It's difficult to describe, but when you'd try it, you'd notice immediately what I mean. With some experience, you even don't really need the focus peaking anymore for those shots, let alone the VF magnification. But as I said, at large apertures, with very shallow DOF, and at full resolution, it's another story. The focusing becomes absolutely very delicate.

 

Manual focusing only

I'm a MF guy. So I can't really compare with AF systems. But I read in different reviews, that AF is not always absolutely precise on a 36MP sensor. Another statement I remember was that the EVF of the A7r does a better job in focusing than the OVF of the D800E. That, and my own focusing experience with the Otus, makes me understand why Zeiss chose to make it a manual focus lens. I guess with (today's) AF systems, it's not possible to set the focus to the same level of precision as one can perform manually. For instance in "Glass Doll", I wonder how an AF system would manage to determine the exact in focus zone where I wanted it (eye, nose and lips).

Moreover, Zeiss has a vast tradition in manufacturing MF lenses. And personally, that's exactly what I want.

 

No image stabilization

This is my personal opinion. After reading the "Shooting out of hand at 1/10 sec" chapter, you'll understand that I really don't care the Otus not having any image stabilization. Nor the A7r for that matter. I've never been missing or wanting it. But I can absolutely get that some people would't wanna shoot without it. So this is a personal matter. This lens is not for them. Nevertheless I still think that one should work on improving his shooting skills first. But, OK, this is not my domain of experience.

 

A very big, heavy and expensive lens

I heard the rumor that Zeiss developed the Otus as if it were a medium format lens. In that way, by cropping the corners of the image, we'd get rid of the zones with less than optimal performance. I don't know if this is really true, but I guess all lenses follow the same optical laws, performing less in the corners. So it makes sense to me: if you want your lens to perform optimally in the corners, you need to crop - which makes you end up with a bigger and heavier lens.

And if you want an image that's (virtually) free of distortion, you need to correct the image internally. This means more glass elements (12 in the Otus 1.4/55). Again: bigger and heavier.

There are no miracles in optics, I guess. Only choices and consequences. If you want a smaller lens, settle with less perfect performance. I do anyway, when I wanna go compact. I surely don't always need the Otus performance. But I have to admit, it's tempting and it's kind of addictive. It's inspirational too.

Then the price. Is it expensive? Sure it is! But is it crazy expensive? Sure it isn't! Being less expensive than the 50mm Leica M Summilux, let go the Apo-Summicron or Noctilux that double and triple it's price and that the Otus still optically outperforms(!), I guess we gotta stay reasonable concerning the price. To all that criticize its price, I can only say: what do you expect anyway?

I'd say the Otus is not cheap at all, but still it's absolutely very attractively priced. I love Zeiss for that.

 

What to shoot with the Otus

What I wanna tell you in this last chapter is about the considerations I made, when starting to shoot with the Otus - considerations about what kind of images to shoot, about how to select the subjects.

This is the best lens in the world, so obviously, my pictures should have to show it, no? Since the subject is the most important element of any picture, I started thinking about what kind of subjects would prove those exceptional Otus qualities. This made me shoot mainly at f/1.4 and f/16 initially, because at the widest and narrowest apertures, Otus still renders exceptional detail, where normally we'd expect a lens to get a lot softer. Another matter, that kept me busy, was how to show that this detail is rendered all over the image, not only at widest and narrowest apertures but also in the corners. And then there is the matter of the incredible micro contrast. And the lack of distortion, flare, etc... To make a long story short, finding "Otus-worthy" subjects quickly became a worrisome task.

But then I thought of how I always have compared musicians, that merely show off their technique, with a circus act ("look what I can do!") - impressive, but having not much to do with music. Since, as a matter of fact, my professional education has been in music, it always helps my photography to think of comparable situations in music. All of a sudden, I realized that I absolutely don't have to show off the Otus' superiority. Whatever lens is used, one rather just needs to think about the picture, and how to shoot it in the best possible way, but not about how to come up with the most "virtuoso" images, using this exceptional lens. That would only have a paralyzing effect and stand in the way of creativity. From that moment on, I felt kind of liberated an relieved. I could use all apertures again in regard of the most favorable DOF and not regarding the "applause" I'd get for the "stunning technicality" of the picture. Every Otus image would already have a superior quality, compared to what I would have gotten, should I have used another lens. Thinking about this lens in this way, makes me absolutely enjoy every shot, also the most simple and modest ones, and makes me use it without restraint whenever I feel like it. In every picture, I see the extra that is contributed by the lens, as I also did, when upgrading from the NEX-7 to the A7r.

Besides that, this lens/camera combination is particularly appropriate for large format printing and extreme cropping, two things that for most of today's photographers are pretty exceptional. Still, as I said, owning and enjoying one myself, I simply use it, whenever I feel for it and whenever its focal length makes sense - as I do with all my lenses. It'll never let me down when I employ in that way.

 

My overall conclusion

The A7r absolutely offers the widest variety of lens/body combinations amongst FF camera's on the market today (surely for MF shooters that are not afraid of buying some good-quality adapters). Of all those combinations, the A7r/Otus is probably the most extreme concerning size and weight, since in that department, they differ the most (which can be harmonized by mounting the grip on the A7r). Still, both have pretty much all other characteristics in common. It's not the case, but when combining them, it surely feels as if they were meant for one another. Indeed, this turned out to be a very workable combination for me, one that not only offers the summit in IQ, it's also surprisingly well balanced, as well on tripod as in the hand. Thanks to the latter, and with the right technique, one can shoot OOH at surprisingly slow shutter speeds, significantly slower than average. So the Otus performs wonderfully great on the A7r, but this is no "plug-and-play" lens. You need to know what you're doing and if you wanna exploit it fully, you need to proceed with great care.

The Otus 1.4/55 is not cheap, but still it's very competitively prised. (Same counts for the A7r, BTW.) This lens is not compact at all, but still it's a tremendous joy to use, because it's so well made. It really feels good to operate and it's so extremely rewarding regarding IQ, the more in combination with the A7r, that it easily becomes an addiction.

That's more than enough for me!

 

Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed it.

(Nal Hutta, Abandoned Factory Facility, Two hours later after capture)

 

Kydan- "There really wasn't much to say when we arrived at the run downed factory on Nal Hutta.'

 

'Like any old factory, it was a dump. The building was literally falling apart, filled with tons of rusted parts and supports everywhere. Even though the factory still stood, it was only a matter of time before this junk pile of old relics fell to the hard ground below us.'

 

'But that wasn't really the worst of our worries. When they had taken us back to their hideout of a dump, they had somehow been able to manage capturing Egile and R7 in the East Sector. However, when we learned about Alurak and Breona's demise outside the area, I wasn't able to contain it.'

 

'I had literally beaten a couple guards and droids out of pure anger and hate for what they did before being knocked out and thrown into the cell with the others. Why wouldn't I though?'

 

'They had just killed one of my best men, a man who I had and would again lay down my life for. He was like my own brother, and he was my last of very few who I called family. And now, he was gone as well. First was Rilika, then Master Turin...and now Breona. I've just about had it with everything.'

 

'If I was going down like all the rest...then I was gonna die trying. I really had no reason to do anything at this point. Why live when I'll just lose everything I love? It wasn't worth it...'

 

'But then...what about Calena? What would she do if I died? Well, she probably would just get mad at me for dieing so stupidly. And yet again...she would probably miss me.'

 

'...Maybe...maybe I'm not suppose to. Maybe the Forge is keeping me alive for so long, for something in the near future. But what? Why keep me alive and let me go through these aweful pain and suffering?...Is it because of her? Because I'm suppose to protect her? Is that it? Am I suppose to protect Calena?..."

_________________________

 

As the hours past, Kydan, Calena, Egile & R7 all stood and sat in the cell in complete silence. After hearing about Alurak and Breona both dead now, after the Droid Commandos informed them all that they had fallen to their deaths, they had all but mourned them in utter silence.

 

When Kydan had gone on a hating rampage at Dor Kilea's men and droids, it took them all into somewhat a suprise. They hadn't seen Kydan in such a frenzy before, not like on Taris a while back. But that soon ended when the guards knocked him out with their guns. Ever since then, Kydan had been completely silent, not even looking at no one whatsoever.

 

They figured that trying to talk to him would make things worst for him. He already lost another friend in the Republic, and remonizing it would just break the poor man down. It was best to just stay quiet until something happened. As if their thoughts were answered, they were all greeted by one of Dor Kilea's men, with a couple of Droid Commandos acting out as guards for the man.

 

K.M. Soldier- "Alright, you Republic scumbags, get up! Senator Kilea wants to speak with you all in person."

Egile- "And what would that be, exactly?"

K.M. Soldier- "That's for you to find out, idiot. Now get up and start walking!"

 

Reluctant to listen, the four were escorted out of their cell and down the rotted and junked hallways. The three were still wondering what was going on and what Dor Kilea was gonna do to them. But for Kydan, he didn't think fo really anything of it. His mind was at but a lost.

 

He had lost so much within over the year and a half, old and new friends alike. First it was Rilicia who died on Geonosis, then it was Master Turin who was killed on Taris...and now it was his commander, who he had been told died off the side of a cliff with Alurak. Even though he and the Mandalorian didn't see eye to eye a lot, he couldn't help but feel sadden by his utter death as well.

 

He was completely at a blank lost. He really had no trance of thoughts left at the moment.

 

Not realizing how long he had been doing nothing but reminiscing the past, he and the others had reached one of the few main platforms of the factory. The platform itself, like the rest of the junked up place, it was completely rusted like all the rest. Large in size, it didn't seem too safe to be standing on, let alone having a large group of people standing on it.

 

Walking up the stairs, the group noticed others on the platform too. Most of them they knew as Clan Feiros, along with other Krillian Militia wearing different colors of armor, however still under the same group. Beside them were but the Droid Commandos that they concluded was given to them from the Separatist as a sign of an alliance between the two. Standing in front of the old windows, however, was a man wearing green armor beside Lt. Shades. Unlike Shades, he wore a fancy looking cape which was embedded to the Krillian government style. They all concluded that this man was to be none other than Senator Dor Kilea.

 

As they reached the platform of the old factory, Dor Kilea turned around from his view of gazing out the large window and faced the four Republic allies. The smug look on his face was enough for Kydan to smash his own fist against it. It was clear that he wanted the Krillian senator man killed instantly.

 

Dor Kilea- "Oh my! This is madness! The Separatist has gone too far with this! Lt. Shades, would you kindly release our friends of their custody?"

 

Nodding, Shades motioned to the guards to release their holding against them all as they took off their bindings that constricted them from much movement. Kydan was sure that, not just him, but the others noticed that Dor Kilea had something up his sleeve. Letting them go out of sheer kindness? There was definitely something wrong with this.

 

His thoughts were answered when Egile spoke up to the Krillian.

 

Egile- "Care to tell us why your releasing your prisoners of confinement?"

Dor Kilea- "Of course, my Republic friend! You see...it wouldn't be so fond of me to keep my Republic allies under confinement. As much as it pains me to say, I'm still part of the Galactic Senate. It would be wrong of me to do so against allies."

Egile- "Part of the Senate? Allies? I don't know if you heard already, you bastard, but the Republic and Galactic Senate have decreed that you are no longer part of the Republic, due to your secret aiding for the Separatist Alliance! Your nothing but a traitor to the entire Republic!"

 

This, however, did not change Dor Kilea's expression a bit. In fact, he seemed more smug than before.

 

Dor Kilea- "Really? I'm not so sure about that..."

Calena- "What do you mean? The Republic and Hualio the Hutt all have evidence of your betrayal!"

Dor Kilea- "I wouldn't be so certain about that much longer, Master Jedi."

Kydan- *Narrows his eyes* "What the hell are you getting at here, Kilea?"

Dor Kilea- "It's quite simple, my friends. You see...I actually wanted you all to find me. But since you were all wasting so much effort and time trying to do so, I decided I would pick up the pace myself. "

Egile- "For what, exactly? Why do you need us?"

Dor Kilea- "Lt. Shades, would you mind explaining?"

 

Lt. Shades- *Nods* Of course, sir. Let me explain it to you scumbags the easier way; we need you all to be our baits for the betrayal. We've already created evidence that leads back to you all...well, considering the little accident with your other two pals.

 

Kydan just growled in hate as he mentioned that. He knew Shades was trying to get underneath his skin. And sadly enough, it was definitely working.

 

Lt. Shades- "We knew that the Republic and Jedi would try to hunt us all down for traitorism. We figured that it was only a matter of time before you would all show up and come get us. Well...we had a plan. You see, we figured that they would send loyal soldiers and Jedi to get us, and what is better than loyalty but trust? They trusted you all enough to come and find us...to lock us away in Republic prison. That's when it dawned on us. Sicne they all trust you with their very lives, they wouldn't even consider any of you betraying them. That was when we decided that planting the illegal transportation and transmission would come from none other than their own. It took us a bit of time to do so, but we were able to track your records and all that little crap in order to get our names off the wanted lists."

Calena- "So your using our records to pin the blame and traitorism on us? Just so that you guys would all be cut cleaned?"

Lt. Shades- "My, your pretty smart, aren't you? Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Dor Kilea- "So that's why we wanted you...well, we came to you I should say. That's how you are all here in the first place. And because of your own actions, you all fell for it perfectly."

Kydan- *Growls* "None of you are getting away with this!"

Dor Kilea- "Ah, but my dear Witronian...we already have. You all played right into my hands. And soon, I'll still be part of the Republic and Galactic Senate, along with being with the Separatist. But for you four...well, that's a different story."

Egile- "What do you mean?"

 

Dor Kilea just chuckled softly and motioned to Lt. Shades.

 

Dor Kilea- "Lt.? I think it's about time these Republic forces had their...little accident, don't you agree?"

Lt. Shades- *Grins underneath mask* "I couldn't agree more, senator."

Everyone- "What?!"

Dor Kilea- "You all honestly didn't believe that we would let you live now, did you?You know of our backstory, and you heard too much. Why would we let any of you live to tell anyone? No...that would be too dangerous, let alone costly. Guards!"

 

In mere seconds, a squad of droids approached them all, climbing up the stairs with their guns grasped tightly in their metallic hands. Kydan and the others all turned around as they oversaw the droids loading and aiming their blasters at them all.

 

Egile- "Well...kinda saw this one coming..."

R7- Bwoop beep...? ("Oh did you now...?")

Dor Kilea- "It has been fun, my Republic friends...but I think it's time we say our goodbyes. Lt. Shades? You may have the pleasure."

Lt. Shades- "It'd be an honor, sir. Ready weapons!"

 

As Shades signaled the droids, immediately they all locked and loaded their guns at the four defenceless heroes. The group all wished they had their own weapons to fight back with, but the situation they were all in...was a total lose.

 

Egile- "Didn't think we all go down like this..."

Calena- "How did you think we would die?"

Lt. Shades- "Aim!"

 

Obeying, the droids aimed their blasters at them all, ready for the final words to be spoken as they would automatically pull the trigger of their guns and kill their targets.

 

Egile- "Honestly...I thought we would all die in a blaze of honor and bravery...not under execution."

Kydan- "Well...I guess you were proven wrong Egile...all of us guessed wrong..."

Egile- "It's been an honor guys..."

Calena- "You too Egile..."

Kydan- "Can't believe this is how it all ends. Thought I'd die differently..."

R7- Boop bweep beep... ("So much for that bet with Recline...")

Lt. Shades- "Fir--"

 

Before his words could pass through his lips and mask, the sound of glass shattering behing them all was overheard throughout the abandoned factory. Looking towards who or what in the galaxy broke through the glass, a man wearing Eclipse armor flew right into the facility, his gun raised in front of him.

 

The group looked at the man with astonishment. It was clear who it was.

 

Everyone- "Alurak?!"

 

Hovering down to the middle, Alurak raised his gun and shot down the droid executioners in front of him, dealing a headshot on each and every one of them swiftly.

 

Alurak- Did you all really think you would be able to kill me and the clone? Heh...you guys got alot to learn when you deal with the Eclipse leader!

Egile- "Alurak, you son of a biscuit, you aren't dead!"

Alurak- "Course I ain't dead, Egie'! I won't die til' the day I want to, and that goes for your friend too!"

Kydan- "Friend?"

 

Not adjusting to what Alurak meant at that exact moment, he suddenly realized who he was referring to. His eyes were suddenly widened somewhat in suprise.

 

Kydan- "You mean..."

???- "He means me, sir."

 

As the group look over behind Alurak, who was still aiming his gun at the enemy in front of him, there, walking up next to him was none other than Breona himself, wielding his two customized pistols in each hand.

 

Kydan- "*Smirks* Good to see you still alive, Breona."

Breona- "Wouldn't have it any other way. You can thank a certain squad and soldier for that too."

Dor Kilea- "I thought you said they were both eliminated!"

Lt. Shades- "That was from the droids who reported it, sir! How was I suppose to know?"

Dor Kilea- *Growls* "Doesn't matter, I guess. I don't know how you two lived, but you and your friends aren't coming out of this alive, Alurak!"

Alurak- "The feelings mutual, you bloody coward!"

Dor Kilea- "Militia, get rid of these annoying pests!"

 

But before any of them could fire a single shot at any of them, the sound of gunfire from above was heard, leading to a few soldiers dropping dead. Out from the ceiling came a squad of crimson red ARF Troopers, hailing down their fire at their respective targets.

 

These men were known as the infamous Tanga Squad.

 

???- "Yee-haw! Suprise you ignorant bastards!"

???- "Don't go too crazy, Degree, otherwise you'll end up with a fatal brain damage."

Degree- "Oh you worry too much, Gunner!"

???- "All of us worry, boy..."

Degree- "Lighten' up, Burner! Just having a little fun was all!"

???- "Degree, just keeps getting dumber and dumber by the day..."

???- "Gotta love him still, Threat."

Threat- "Yeah...but doesn't mean I have to like it, Line-Up."

 

Dor Kilea's eyes roared in anger. He hadn't expect Republic forces would end up here at the last moment. His plan was working perfectly, but when Alurak and these clones came, it was completely shredded. The plan he had invisioned was long gone now...all thanks to them.

 

Dor Kilea- You...all of you...ruined my vision of the future! I had everything perfect and set, but then...you came. All of you have destroyed my vision! And now...you'll all pay. Lt. Shades!

 

Not wanting to be told twice, he pulled out his Silencer Pistol, aiming it directly at Kydan and the others. As long as they died, everything would fall back into place. Especially with the Witronian boy and Siruhnian girl out of the picture.

 

Lt. Shades- "Farewell, Republic scum..."

???- "Hey! Back away from the generals you overgrown nit wit!"

 

Not realizing what had happened, Shade was suddenly met with a sniper fire from the side, hitting directly at his own pistol, blasting it right out of his and out the broken window. Clutching his hand, with a suprised look underneath his mask, he looked towards to whoever shot his pistol.

 

There, coming from behind Alurak and Breona, was another clone trooper, except not wearing crimson red armor. Instead, his armor was painted red as the clone himself was wielding a sniper rifle in his hands, walking up to the two.

 

???- "When you mess with the commander, you mess with me!"

 

Kydan noticed something familiar about the clone's personality and shooting skills. The last time he experienced that kind of soldier was the first day on Geonosis, a similar clone trooper who was part of his old and first squad. That was when his eyes lit up immediately. It couldn't be, could it? This clone couldn't be that rookie, right? The thing was...they were both very similar.

 

He had to know if it really was him.

 

Kydan- R....R.S? Is that you?

 

Even though Kydan couldn't tell due to his helmet, underneath it, R.S. gave off his old familiar smile at his old commanding officer.

 

R.S.- "Good to see your still alive, commander. Thought I was the last one to make it out of there, huh?"

Kydan- *Studdering* "But...but how?"

Dor Kilea- "Enough of this! Militia! Kill them....kill all of them!"

 

Before he could even answer, R.S. was suddenly pushed to the side as a blaze of blaster fire was upon them all, Krillian Militia soldiers positioning themselves as they repelled against them all.

 

R.S.- "I'll explain later, sir! Right now, we got a fight in our hands!"

 

Knowing that R.S. was right, he signalled R7 to shoot out their weapons to them. Replying with a beep, R7 launches out both his and Calena's sabers, landing directly into the palm of their hands. Egile, who had gone down to the fallen droids, retrieved both his, R7's and Kydan's guns.

 

Passing it back to the two, they were all finally re-equipped with their own weapons as they began to pursue the enemy in front of them, with blaster fire raging from both sides while Kydan and Calena deflected them back at their enemies.

 

Dor Kilea could hardly believe it all. His plan had gone accordingly to what it had orginally planned. It was the perfect set up, the perfect scheme to have control on both sides of the war. And yet...these "clones" come barging in and ruin it all. His plans had failed tremendously, and they are to blame.

 

All there was left to do now was to evacuate and escape in the shuttle. This may be a loss to him, but he would still be able to take advantage of the situation. With the Republic occupied by his last militia and droid forces, he has the opportunity to escape Nal Hutta ans regroup.

 

Dor Kilea- "The plan has failed, it seems......it's time to regroup. Lt.! Guards! Come with me, we leave immediately!"

 

As Senator Dor Kilea and his two bodyguards quickly retreat from the fight, Lt. Shades stays back for some reason.

 

He realized that if he were to escape them all, he would never have another chance of killing off his "loose end" once and for all. It would drive him to madness knowing that he once had the opportunity and didn't take it. It would make him look weak, a fool...even not worthy as a bounty hunter. He knew what he had to do. It was either now or life of insanity.

 

With only a few minutes passing by, the group was all able to defeat the Krillian Militia soldiers and their droid allies. Even though they all didn't seem tough, it still felt a bit tough afterwards.

 

Degree- "Yeah! Bite on that, you metallic junkies!"

Threat- *Sighs* "How am I even related to you?"

Burner- "By DNA, sadly..."

Threat- "Indeed sir..."

Breona- "That takes care of that. Enemy forces are all but beaten."

Kydan- "Great job, Tanga Squad. Couldn't have done it without ya'. And it's great to be fighting with you again, R.S."

R.S.- "Wouldn't have missed it for the galaxy, commander."

Egile- "Hey...wait a minute...something's missing..."

Alurak- "What do you mean?"

 

The group look around to find what Egile was talking about. All they were seeing were the lots of dead bodies and junked up droids everywhere. But Calena soon noticed something off, as her eyes widened.

 

Calena- "Dor Kilea...he's gone!"

Alurak- "What?! You mean that damn coward escape?!"

Egile- "Looks like it, Aly ol' boy..."

 

Growling angrily underneath his helmet, he charges up the stairs and towards the window, making the group look at him very confused.

 

Breona- "Where are you going?"

Alurak- "To find that traitorous Krillian bastard!"

Calena- "Alurak, wait a minute!"

Alurak- "No! If that Senator escapes Nal Hutta, he'll be even more dangerous than ever! He'll vanish from the galaxy forever! I am 'not' letting him get away! You can all do whatever, but I'm going after him at all costs!"

 

Not letting any of them try to convince him otherwise, he blast right through the broken glass window, attempting to capture his target. He wasn't gonna let that man escape. Not after what he pulled on him and his clan.

 

Kydan- "We better go after him. Who knows what could happen."

Calena- "Yeah, I agree. Alurak could get himself hurt."

R.S.- "Well, let's go then!"

 

As the group made their way up the stairs towards the next set of doors, they all stopped when they heard a familiar voice call out to one of them.

 

Lt. Shades- "Kydan! We have some unfinished business left! So fight me like a mercenary you claim to be! Or are you just gonna run away from your problems again?"

 

Kydan had a feeling something like this would happen. He had to end all of this...alone. If he didn't, then his past would come to haunt him forever.

 

Kydan- "...You guys go after Alurak...I'll deal with Shades myself."

Egile- "Are you sure? He's one tough son of a biscuit."

Kydan- "I know...that's why I have to end this."

Calena- "But Kydan..."

Kydan- "Don't worry about me. Just make sure Alurak doesn't do something he'll regret. "I can handle Shades alone."

Calena- "But..."

Egile- "...Alright, if you're sure about it."

Kydan- "I am, now go!"

 

Nodding, Egile motions to all of them to follow behind, quickly making their way out of the factory to wherever Alurak is heading for. But Calena looked back at Kydan for a moment, hesitant to leave him on his own. She knew he was strong, but she didn't know if he would be able to handle that bounty hunter on his own.

 

But that soon faded when she heard and felt something warm in her mind. She never felt the connection before and was very knew to her, but when she heard the voice, she knew the voice well enough. Although, it was still suprising.

 

???- 'Go on...I can handle this. I need you guys to find Alurak quickly. No need to worry.'

 

After she heard his voice, her eyes widen somewhat. and looked up to him, she saw Kydan glancing at her with a small grin and a saluting-style at her. She knew he was indicating that he would be fine. So reluctant and forced nonetheless, she hesitantly nodded and followed the others, silently hoping he would be alright.

 

If she were to be truly honest to herself...she was afraid that he would be hurt. The last time she remembered that he was hurt, she wasn't there when it all happened.

 

Lt. Shades- "This has gone long enough, Witronian boy. Ever since that day happened, I vowed to take vengeance upon you. I swore I would find you and make you pay for what you did to me. I'll make sure you suffer the loss and agony I went through for the months that had come after. Because of you, I became a nobody. But that's all about to change."

Kydan- "You shouldn't have joined him, Shades. I know you're a better man than the one I once knew. You're smarter than this. Walk away from all of this and don't turn back."

Lt. Shades- "And let you live as my blood boils underneath my skin, knowing that you still live? Ain't gonna happen. This all ends here and now...and only one of us is gonna come out all of this alive."

Kydan- "The only person coming out of this alive is the true man of the two. And you won't be that man."

Lt. Shades- "Believe what you want, Witronian. Today, you will die."

 

There wasn't much left to say to him. He had no intentions on negotiating with him any longer. Shades was determined to claim his life. The only thing left standing between him and his future now...is the man that made his mercenary career a living hell. Killing him now was his last option.

 

Kydan- "......Then so be it."

_________________________

 

(Nal Hutta, Abandoned Factory Landing Pad, Ten minutes later)

 

Dor Kilea- "Prepare my shuttle for launch! Set the coordinates to Corellia! My contact will meet me there."

Pilot 1- "Yes, Senator Kilea. Your shuttle is already--GAH!"

 

Before the pilot was able to finish his sentence with Dor Kilea, he was suddenly shot in the chest, collapsing to the ground. The two guards that were protecting him were too shot, just as were ready to counterattack with whomever was behind them.

 

???- "Dor Kilea!"

 

The moment Dor Kilea heard his name be spoken out loud to him, he was suddenly met with a fist in the chest and into the face, moments before fully turning to whomever was speaking towards him. Regaining his composure, he was again met with another hit, but this time with a kick in the stomach.

 

When he was able to see who it was, his heart sanked down quickly. He hadn't expected this. He ddin't expect the Mandalorian to reach him so quickly. He was indeed in much trouble.

 

Dor Kilea- *Studders* "A-Alurak...l-let me explain--ACK!"

Alurak- "You betrayed my brothers and sisters..."

 

Swinging his fist once again, he sent the Senator flying backwards to his shuttle.

 

Alurak- "You betrayed me..."

Dor Kilea- *Coughs up blood from mouth* "E-Eclipse, please..."

 

Before he could continue, he was suddenly taken by the throat and thrown towards the ship, smashing himself in the back painfully. His body was already weak now, and it didn't make it anymore less painful when Alurak kicked him in the gut again.

 

Alurak- "You used us all...betraying my and the clan's trust...you even stole from us, everything we had! You used us for your own personal gain! What makes you think explaining yourself would even do for you at this point?!"

Dor Kilea- "I-it wasn't...*coughs up more blood* my fault..."

 

That made him even more furious as he punched him directly in the jaw, hearing the sound of his armed tight fist making contact with the traitor's now bruised jaw.

Alurak- Not your fault?! Because of you, my clan is now nothing! Clan Eclipse no longer lingers the name, nor does it hold its warriors! We were a proud clan, and when you came and used us, we were all but dead in the very beginning!

 

Not allowing the Senator to get a chance to even speak, he whips out his gun and aim it directly at him, causing Dor Kilea to weakly shutter in fear of his gun. This was definitely it.

 

Alurak- "You dont' deserve to live...you murderer."

???- "Alurak, don't do it!"

 

Knowing that voice well enough, he glances towards to the voice, noticing that Egile, Calena, Breona and the others must have just arrived to witness what he was about to do. There was no way they were gonna persuade him not to do it.

 

Alurak- "This man has taken everything from me and my old clan! He deserves to die for what he's done to us!"

Egile- "You know that's not the only option! We can take Dor Kilea to a Republic prison and make sure he will be locked up for life! You don't have to kill him!"

Alurak- "If I don't, then we all pay the price! He will have someone break him out and then hunt us all down for that! There is no way I'll let it happen!"

Calena- "But think about what you're doing, Alurak! If you kill him here and now, you'll regret doing so in the near future! We can make sure he will never be able to escape, nor have a fair trial! He'll be locked up for life! Just drop the gun and we can do so!"

 

Alurak looks back and forth to the others and the traitor in front of him, sitting down all bruised, hurt and utterly weak at the moment. Perhaps they were right, imprisoning him would make sure that he will never harm anyone again, neither him or anyone else he cares for.

 

However...he wasn't going to risk that chance. This was the only way anyone that knew him would be safe.

 

Looking back at the weak Dor Kilea, he raised his gun and pointed it directly at his head, causing the Senator to gasp at his reaction. Even the group were wide eyed at that moment, his finger ready to pull the very trigger that would kill the man.

 

Alurak- "No chances for murderers...especially for someone like him!"

_________________________

 

(Nal Hutta, Abandoned Factory, Fifteen minutes after Alurak catches Dor Kilea)

 

Lt. Shades- "You took everything from me! I was once one of the greatest bounty hunters in the galaxy! I was nitorious, feared and looked upon! But because of you, ever since the galaxy knew I had lived and that you defeated me, all of that vanished!"

Kydan- "You did this to yourself Shades! None of this would have happened if you had just walked away on that day! It would have never come down to this! You have only yourself to blame for that!"

Lt. Shades- "Tough words for the man who is losing!"

 

Kydan didn't reply back as he was quickly met with another powerful blaster bold from Shade's heavy sniper rifle. The fight had started with both of their respective guns each; Shades using his customized heavy sniper while he used his CC-29 "Magna" Pistol. It was a close match from both sides, but Kydan was easily overpowered by the lack of cover he received. Eventually, he was forced to make his own barricade and try to strategize a quick plan. Otherwise, sooner or later, he'll be dead.

 

Lt. Shades- *Growls* "Enough of this nonsense!"

 

Having enough of "play time" with the Witronian mercenary, he started to target the barricade Kydan had made for himself. However, it still wasn't enough to hold the firepower that his gun carried. Rapidly shooting it, it started to quickly desinigrate.

 

With not enough time to retaliate against the bounty hunter, Kydan jumped to the side and ducked his head. However, the moment he did that, Shades has shot a small missle from his gun, completely destroying the barricade, as well as sending Kydan back some.

 

Groaning from the pain he was feeling, Kydan wasn't able to counter quickly enough as Shades was already standing over him. Feeling another urge of pain, he was met with Shades' foot, sending him rolling back.

 

Lt. Shades- "I knew you weren't strong enough to defeat me. You were never good enough to even be a mercenary, let alone this...'Dark Mercenary' you call yourself. You're nothing but a disgrace to yourself and everyone around you."

 

Not wanting to let Kydan get a chance to get up, he aims his gun directly between his neck and head, ready to blow his head off if he tried to do anything.

 

Lt. Shades- "And now here you are on the ground...beaten, weak and useless. Once I'm finished with you, your friends in the Republic, as well as that Jedi girl of yours will be next. What I'm about to do to you, they too will feel the same pain."

 

Loading his sniper, he readies himself for the final act. He was about enjoy the feeling of a long and respectful kill on the Witronian boy that had ruined his career. He would enjoy this indeed.

 

Lt. Shades- "Any last words before I blow your freaking head off, once and for all?"

Kydan- *Groans* "Yeah...I got a few for ya'..."

Lt. Shades- "And what would that be?"

 

To answer his own question, he suddenly felt something very painful stabbed behind him, as well as...in front too?

 

Looking down to what it was, his eyes widen as he saw a purple saber thrusted right into his stomach, the hilt coming from behind his back as the blade had impaled right through him.

 

Kydan- "You'll never...get that chance...ever again."

 

Still wide-eyed, Shades then collapses to the ground with a loud thud as Kydan's saber deactivates from the impact. He didn't even see it coming. The Witronian boy had actually tricked him, and to the fact that he was able to get the hit on him. He didn't even see it coming, let alone notice anything fishy.

 

He was angry and by far hated him even more, but he also respected Kydan nonetheless. He actually had become somewhat of a real mercenary, if he were to be honest. As Kydan walked up to him, groaning a bit and clutching his stomach, Shades begins to speak to him one last time.

 

Lt. Shades- *Coughs up blood* "H-How...how were you able...to defeat me?"

Kydan- "Because unlike you Shades...I have a reason to fight."

Lt. Shades- "But you are...' *Coughs more* 'aren't even strong enough...and yet...you were. How? Was it because of...of vengeance? Of honor? What could...' *Coughs* 'possibly make you so strong? What could have...given you strength?"

 

Kydan stayed silent for a few brief moments, his mind revisioning the people he cared for in his life. From his Master, Coneros, to his officer, Breona...as well as to the girl who he can never explain how he really feels.

 

Slightly shaking his thought away, he finally looks back down to the dying man in front of him, anxiously waiting for his answer to be said. And the words that he was about to speak were the words that he would never forget in his life. Even to the day he would die.

 

Kydan- "Because...unlike you...I'm fighting for the people that I love. If anyone, like you, even tries to hurt them in any way possible...I will not hesitate on killing."

 

Chucking weakly and coughing up blood from Kydan's words, he slowly started to drift to his own eternal slumber. He at least was able to understand what made him strong, and he would respect that as a bounty hunter should.

 

Lt. Shades- "Heh...so that's it huh?' *Coughs up blood once more* 'Well...then let me say this......if what you say is true...then...' *coughs weakly* 'remember to not turn back...from your own words......Witronian boy..."

 

And from his last breath of air and words spoken, his eyes turned blank and shallow, his head finally falling back to the wall behind him as he sat there motionless. He had finally past on for good.

_________________________

 

(Nal Hutta, Abandoned Factory Landing Pad, Twenty minutes after the fight)

 

After Shades had died, Kydan, as fast as his body could, tried to meet up with the others on the landing pad. When he had arrived, he had found that Alurak had done the deed that he had been wanting since coming to Nal Hutta. Due to the looks of unapproval in the eyes and faces of Calena and Egile, he knew that Senator Dor Kilea had died by the hands of the Eclipse Mandalorian.

 

Knowing that there wasn't much lef tot do, they had all called Hualo the Hutt for assistance. Gaining Hualo's accomplice, the Hutt had called the local police to find and clean up the mess they had done against the now dead Senator and bounty hunter. The group was happy that they had accomplish what they needed to do, but a few of them still had some questionable things against Alurak. But since the Mandalorian had left after killing the traitor, they were left to figure it all out themselves.

 

As they all chatted while waiting for Tanga Squad's personal gunship to pick them all up, and while the police were cleaning up house, Kydan and R.S. took a small portion of their timing to register and retell all that had happened to them. To the both of them, it felt like years since they had last saw each other, and they had hoped to catch up on the time they had lost.

 

R.S.- "So afterwards, once the ground teams had dug me out and sent me back to Kamino for special treatment, they had me put into the regular Republic Army, considering of my little history on Geonosis. When they had told me that you had left the Order, I was pretty much forced to do it."

Kydan- *Whistles* "Man, R.S.! Sounds like it was rough enough."

R.S.- "Yeah, but I was able to survive. It was good knowing that you had survived the explosion back then. I had thought I was the last one to be alive from all that."

Kydan- "Same here. It torned me apart that I had lost all of you guys from that, and I really had thought it was all my fault."

R.S.- "If anyone has fault in it, it would be the Separatist and Dooku. Because of them, it's the reason how me and you are the last ones to make it out."

Kydan- "Well, I'm happy that you made it out alive, rookie."

R.S.- "Actually sir, it's lieutenant now. They had promoted me after the small crusade on Orto Plutonia. They had me put into Captain Rex's legion for a bit, which was not that bad so to say. And since we were the last ones in the division to survive, due to some local trouble between the Pantorans' chairman and the Talz's chieftan, they promoted me for my "heroic bravery", as they had called it."

Kydan- "Uh...congratulations?"

R.S. "Heh...uh, thanks. So...it seems that you run an interesting kind of clone squad now, huh?"

Kydan- "Yeah, these boys are a whole bunch of fun. Every one of them have something special in them, as well as a little story to each one too. This is pretty much how I invisioned a clone squad to be, actually."

R.S.- "Well then...I have a favor to ask, if you don't mind?"

 

Kydan- *Chuckles* "Oh boy, not another name change!"

 

R.S. just chuckled back. It had been so long since he met his old commander again, listening to his old classic jokes. He truly missed the good ol' days with the team. That much was true.

 

R.S.- *Chuckles* "Hehehe...forgot about that. But no, that's not it."

Kydan- "What do you have in mind?"

R.S.- "Well...since I really have no team at the moment, and that I'm pretty well available to any other division or batallions...you think I can join back up with you again? You know, maybe join your new squad and all?"

 

Not missing even a heartbeat, a broad smile crossed Kydan's face. That had already made his day. Truthfully, he had hoped that he would be able to partner up with his old squad member, let alone a good friend since the beginning of the war. He was more than happy to have him part of the team again. Reaching out to R.S., he waited for him to grasp it.

 

Kydan- "I would be honored if you came back, R.S. Wouldn't be the same without your craziness and jokes."

 

Smiling himself, R.S. grasped his commander's hand firmly, happy that he approved.

 

R.S.- "Same here, commander. It'll be just like old times."

Kydan- *Nods* "Just with a new batch."

 

As Kydan and R.S. continued to exchange words, Egile and Calena wa shaving one of their own. Egile had a firm look on his face, while Calena looked to be embarrased somewhat.

 

Egile- "So...you bought it in the market, but yet, you didn't even say anything to him about it?"

Calena- *Nods slowly* "...Yes..."

Egile- *Sighs* "...You know that you only have so much time left to say something."

Calena- "It's hard Egile...I can't just express it just like that. I don't even know what he even thinks of me!"

Egile- "Calena...unless you say something to him soon, or you're gonna lose him to someone else."

Calena- *Sighs heavily* "I-I know...but...it's just so hard to do!"

Egile- "I can tell. But you have to try harder. The more you keep it to yourself, the longer and more harder it will be to even say anything. And sooner or later, you're gonna have him slip away from you."

Calena- "Yeah...I know. I'll try, you have my word."

Egile- *Nods and smiles* "Good, cause here he comes now."

 

Shrieking slightly in both nerves and embarrassment, with Egile just snickering away, she tries to hide her blushing red cheeks from the mercenary as he and the lieutenant both walk up to them both with smirks on their faces.

 

Kydan- "What are you guys talking about over here?"

Egile- *Shrugs* "Nothing much, Kydan. Just reminiscing the days after Taris is all."

Kydan- "Yeah I know...it's been a long while since then, huh?"

Egile- "You have no idea. Though I'm glad that we were all able to meet each other. It's been great teaming up with you guys again."

Kydan- *Laughs airly* "Same here, Egile."

 

Before Kydan could ask Calena what was wrong, considering she was somewhat hiding her face from him, he was silence immediately when a certain clone shouted out behind them all.

 

Degree- "Sirs! Come on, we gotta go! I like to be back on Coruscant by tomorrow, if you all don't mind!"

Threat- *Sighs* "Degree, don't be such a complainer. You're a soldier for goodness sakes!"

Degree- "I am not a complainer! I...am a ladies man!"

Gunner- *Laughs* "Yeah, saids you Degree!"

 

The four started to laugh as they started to walk towards Degree and the rest of the squad. Even though they were all different from personal perspectives, they all knew that each one of them were something special.

 

Egile- *Chuckles* "Yep. This is gonna be one hell of a war."

Calena- "I wouldn't say that the war would be interesting. It's more like the team is gonna be the mere attention."

R.S.- "In all cases, ma'am, I'm actually looking forward to it honestly."

Kydan- *Smirks* "That's something we can all agree on, R.S."

_________________________

  

And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes the Nal Hutta investigation! From here on out, many interesting things will appear, as well as reveal themselves to all of you. This was a great four-part chapters we had written in my opinion. We had a good time banding together most of the main characters together on one mission. I think it gave out a feel to the audience on how they truly acted, and not just by instinct nor just looking at them. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it as much as we did writing it. And don't worry, this ain't the last time you'll see these guys partnered up. Much more to come in the coming future.

 

Alright, onwards to reviewing! This was pretty good, better than the last chapter we had done honestly. It's even now the longest and most worked on chapter out of all the others by far! So now Iwe are totally exhausted by it haha! And don't be afraid, the next ones won't be this long, I think lol. So anyways, the death of Dor Kilea was actually changed before production was set up. Before this was where Dor Kilea would actually had been arrested by the characters, not be killed. But we had no plans with him whatsoever, and he needed to be out of the scene...so we just decided to just kill him off as a miscallaneous character.

 

But for building wise...it was interesting. I know for a fact that we'll be using a lot of these builds for future chapters and what not. It comes in handy when you have older projects and try to use them for others. Helps out greatly, honestly.

 

Well, I think it's about time we head out and work on the next chapters. Hopefully they won't take as long as they require. So thank you all for your outstanding support for our comic series, and please, continue to give us feedback, as always, on how the story is going and what we could do to approve. So again, thank you guys for everything and, as always, have a fan-tucking-tastic day/night! See ya' in the next one.

 

- Director K.W., CGN Crew Members

THE DISCOVERY by gleitzeit blog (the lost Interview in Rome)

  

I am using magnifying glass to be able to read a a PDF file of a very low quality.

My eyes are hurting. What I have found is something that is just not available…

I must say on the search for anything tagged “invisible” I find some pretty amazing

stuff I would never know about (later on that)

  

Paul meet me at the gate. He looked younger than I had expected. Dressed

casually.

As a host he cordially offered me to dine. While we entered the hall I had an urge to ask him, is this a museum? trying not to break anything as we passed by sculptures, paintings,

ceramics and a lot of other pieces of art which I had never seen before.

This unexpected excitement spoiled my appetite, and I was no longer hungry and

instead drank some wine.

He made clear that it is not any kind of a museum, but instead, his Paul’s studio. He lives not in Rome, but by the Terranian sea, where he was going shortly.

I asked Paul how he earns a living. Paul thought a little and tried to find an appropriate explanation. He finally lit on: "I am of independent means and don’t have to earn a living" pouring me another glass of wine.

I asked him: “ Can I buy some of your paintings? How much it will cost me?”

This question Paul left unanswered but he said that commonly he paints his

pictures without the intention to sell them.

Earlier I noticed a little girl and a young woman moving about him.

  

OMG!!!! I am shaken up. NOBODY KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT Paul Jaisini’s personal life! I don’t believe this. THANK YOU GOOGLE! this is like really mystifying. I am not an emotional person, rather someone who loves to work hard and get the job done. This turned into something other than working.

Google nowadays is not your “grandfather’s” google so to speak. It is tailored

around you, your daily Internet activity, So finding any news, any special

information is no longer an easy task. I guess because there’s too much of

everything and what one is looking for could be placed out of reach. So we sort

of live on a planet that is flat as in dark ages. I say that because if one is

provided the info that is tailored with limitation it implies that breaking

away is not something one would even comprehend! We are too used to trust our social functioning and think that we know everything, on top of all news provided to us by the honest practice of the broadcasting companies.

We don’t want to be those conspiracy freaks with no trust to anything or

anyone. But truth is, if you don’t want to pay high dollar for some expert

articles on the topics that could give more than the free info, you are really

up against a brick wall of the new unknown reality and a total incapacity to acquire

the needed info of high quality without spending your whole life learning all the crap on the net and beyond in order to find finally what you need.

So search is a tricky mother. If you are creative and sort of spontaneous you

might somehow find your own style of fishing out the essentials. But in my case I

often felt helpless and lost no longer willing to participate in this

undertaking trying to document Gleitzeit.

It doesn’t look like I had managed a short explanation. But this is my formula of

finding something that is not available on the tailored to fit google search.

I enter the variations of phrases and words from the gleitzeit context of emails, postings, essays and add some other words I find on my way of locating Paul Jaisini's links. Turning the tag in a sort of a potion number nine that had proven to fetch some impossible to find info on such a quick inquiry without opening thousands of websites where I might find or might not find anything at all. And the most effective findings are with the tag "invisible" added to other things, be it email abbreviations and so on.

  

“The other must be his wife”, I thought, because Paul called her with some pet name's asking for a bottle of wine, for a book, or an ash tray.

“Is she your wife? “ I asked just in case.

Paul looked me in the eyes and said: “She is not my wife, nor the mother of my daughter, she is my secretary. “

The secretary I sensed didn’t like me much.

She didn’t call Jaisini by his name, Paul, but she instead addressed him as

mister Jaisini. She seemed obsequious and perhaps didn’t like me for my unrestrained manner and direct questions. She said to Paul: “You should not waste your time on this interview. You need to return to your work. “

Paul said: “It will be few minutes." and spent a few hours with me. A self-ruling man.

Paul didn’t drink any wine but he behaved at times extravagantly, showing the

outlines of the silhouettes in his paintings and explaining what was happening in the pictures.

Paul said that the point of his art being hidden from the public is an

intrigue that engages press in constant attempts to uncover the ‘truth’ behind it all. Nevertheless it is very disappointing, that people don’t care about real art, as they do about private affairs.

We went upstairs and in a spacious hall I saw a large painting. I didn’t hide my

awe.

“Wow! Where did you get such a big piece of canvas? The art stores don’t sell

this linen in such sizes. “

“It is stitched together from pieces," answered Paul.

“How did you reach the upper parts of the painting"

"I climbed the riser. Do you see the nude black man up there, tangled with a

serpent?"

"It reminds me of Laocoön. Is it intentional?"

"No, he is a symbol of physical grace without intellect. Do you see a group of

female bodies intertwined in a threesome?"

"No, I don’t see it. Where is the threesome?"

"To the left, look there."

"I look there."

"There the three figures, here is one, here is another one and the third one."

"Third is not a female figure, it’s some animal."

"It’s a female, but there is an animal, a bit higher up. The clown in the center

tears his mouth in a bloody smile, carrying out his role of a fool, laughing when

he wants to cry."

"Is that a monkey?"

"You got it, she is another symbol of the fate, she stopped hitting the tom-tom,

her direct purpose in circus. When she stopped to play and started to think, she

realized that her life is pitiful and she wants to kill herself. It’s a second

symbol of the same meaning."

"Tell me about that threesome again."

"Well, they show the natural grace, as three graces would, the sensual concept of

procreation."

"This picture must be a depiction of a circus performance, I suppose. Is it ?

Why it is so dynamic?"

"It is a circus performance but is the personal trial of human character. The ball construction is an object: - Paulsen’s ball, it is also a title of the painting."

"This ball creates some weight and it seems to move the composition with it’s

size and position and it seems to be on a verge of rolling down."

"You’re right! I also sense this immediate impulse to prevent the clown to fall

off that ball.

We went to other paintings, whole series of paintings.

When I gathered all my sensations about the art that surrounded me, it was time to leave. Paul Jaisini escorted me to the door. I shook his hand saying:

"You are an interesting man!"

"I am not a man..."

(the last sentence was a good ending)

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolism

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolism_(arts)

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invisibility

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatalism

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gracefulness

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impossible_object

  

Have to type as I read PDF file that can’t be copied

  

Have to type as I read PDF file that can’t be copied

I am using magnifying glass to be able to read a a PDF file of very low quality. My eyes are hurting. What I have found is something that is just not available… I must say on the search for anything tagged “invisible” I find some pretty amazing stuff I would never know about (later on that) Now I am sitting in my office instead of having night out. It really is an impossible task to just discern the text. I filled up a spray bottle with cold water to spray my face to frequently refresh my eyes, as they get tired from the magnifying glass. It’s totally worth it, the thrill of discovery is my ultimate high.

Subj: Re: any suggestions?

Date: 2/5/00 Pacific Standard Time

From: bcwoodward@bigfoot.com (B. Woodward)

To: Yustas61@aol.com

CC: Angela Ahermeign

The attached file with original text before translation can be used in all related your project on Paul Jaisini.

All my corrections are in () and sometimes they replace the words nearby, other times they get inserted or have comments as well. It should be clear. Angela, you had some trouble with colloquialisms, unclear constructions and misplaced verb tenses. You switched among various forms of the past with irregularity. I’ve brushed it up. It makes a good narrative, though. Very interesting :)

Original Message-

From Angela A, Sent Thursday, February 03, 2000, 4: 25 PM

to bcwoodward@bigfoot.com

Subject Any suggestions

My first meeting with Paul Jaisini in Rome

(was it your first meeting with him, or just first time in Rome… unclear construction)

Paul Jaisini’s appearance at the exhibition of his art made a lot of noise in 1995 in Rome.

(caused a lot of noise, a lot of excitement, or was it just a noisy appearance?)

After newspapers published the (a) photograph of Paul Jaisini in the empty gallery, I read the article and realized how lucky I was to be in Rome. Nobody saw Paul Jaisini’s paintings. Yes, nobody… This what happened next. I called him once, then (a) second time. (,b)But Paul didn’t return my calls. Unfortunately I was not able to stay on guards (stand guard is the appropriate colloquialism) to catch him by the art gallery being (as I was) preoccupied with my (own) business. So I decided that I have (needed, not have) to find a way to see Paul Jaisini’s (hidden) paintings if he hides them. Such extravagance has (had) to be stopped.

I decided to offer him (no him here) to write a testament about (to) the existence of his art (, which would necessarily lead to him revealing it to me.) which will rise the necessity to see it.

I heard about Paul Jaisini before (that time) because he is quite a (reverse the a and quite) well-known contemporary artist. When I set up the appointment to meet (him) I easily found his cozy two- story town-house surrounded by (an) antique iron fence.

When I called (on) the intercom it took a while to explain who I was and why (I had come) did I come.

Paul meet me at the gate. He looked younger than I (had) expected. Dressed casually.

As a host he cordially offered me to dine. While we were entering (entered) the hall I had an urge to ask him, (“I) is it (this) a museum (?), trying to brake (break) anything, (no comma… as we passed) passing by sculptures, paintings, ceramic pieces (ceramics… drop the p word) and a lot of (other pieces of) art which I (had never seen before. drop rest of the sentence) was not able…

Gosh, I can feel how B. Woodward was feeling… WILL SHE REALLY SEE THE PAINTINGS by PAUL JAISINI?????? my eyes are punishing me for this thrill. I need to stop looking into the magnifier when I am now writing a comment without looking into unreadable copy.

Just waiting to get the courage to continue… my eyes need rest, I made myself some coffee with soy milk. But it surely means I want to prolong the suspense. I have no idea what is written in that text I located only god knows where or how.

I think that a gamer guru would understand me after he/she played hardest strategic games for a very long time and turned into a savvy thrill seeker.

  

medium.com/art-submissions/don-t-bother-901454f687cd The time has come to start making sense of things, of the world, of each other. We think we’re doing that, but we’re actually doing the opposite. We are complicating…EVERYTHING…tothe point of utter madness. Our world has become one ginormous madhouse, ESPECIALLY cyberspace — this alternate world we created within our world that seems to have created a world within itself — yet to be identified, recognized, and named. Making sense of things is not a bad thing. For example, let’s start with one major web enigma: Paul Jaisini and “Gleitzeit” which is this, uh, odd art movement the guy started in the 90s. If you simply google either of those names, I gaurantee you a good WTF moment or two. You’ll not just be scratching your head over this one. You’ll be scratching every part of your body like a delusional nutcase who thinks your skin is literally crawling with countless bugs. IT’S GONNA BUG THE HELL OUT OF YOU, let’s just say…maybe for a day or a week…or maybe, as for some folks, long after you’ve discovered it. You’ll be itching to understand what it’s about even just a little bit. Your mind will try to make sense of Paul Jaisini and/or Gleitzeit, it will want to, but will fail miserably. Frustration and anger will start setting in. I know because that’s how it was for me and every person that tried. The deeper you dig, the more you try to figure it out, the more confused, overwhelmed, baffled, and perplexed you’ll get. I guess for the people that attempt to understand the Paul Jaisini and Gleitzeit thing or debunk it, my advice is: DON’T EVEN TRY. DON’T GO THERE. IT’S NOT FOR YOU. The sleepless nights, the uncertainty, the questions and ideas that start invading your head, the horror of “waking up” from normality and regularity, the trauma of moving from one dimension to another… is not worth it. Well, for me it was worth it, but not for others. They claim it’s crazy and even dangerous for the mind, Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit. Well, sure, I mean you gotta break some eggs to make an omelette, dontchya? So, Gleitzeit is the omelette and all parties involved in GIG (Gleitzeit International Group) are the eggs. Makes sense. Speaking of which, “they” don’t want it to make sense, not even close. As a member of the group, I’m breaking protocol BIG TIME by writing this, by encouraging that you go out there, look this stuff up and figure it out, take away its shield of senselessness and defeat it… for the sake of a better world and future for us all. I hope someone out there hears me….one way or another, it had to be said…. Stelly Riesling

 

} These are events set shortly after my previous issue “Atychiphobia”, wherein Clayface’s personalities are put in flux. {

 

*Overview of the slums bordering Midway City, Michigan, on an unusually humid night. A perfect blend of place, time and atmosphere that would discourage most from partaking in a recreational stroll. Additionally, as a landmark notable for housing not one but two guilds dedicated to super-heroics, crimes here are exclusive committed by the ignorant, or the heedless.

 

*Cut to a dolly zoom of an unimpressive three-story apartment building. We see a woman, clad in red and white athletic wear, scaling the forest of brick and metal with swift, elastic maneuvers. A final sling of her arm, and she stretches up to a fire escape. A noise complaint from the neighboring structure was placed not ten minutes before, and this heroine, known as Elasti-Girl, arrived at the scene alongside Midway police officers. Taking into account the warnings made by concerned residents that the prior commotion had sounded excessively violent, Elasti-Girl insists upon entering the premises first, and the officers, in turn, have not forgotten her past reliability, as well as stubbornness in matters of crisis. They accommodate her selflessness, and form a perimeter around the building in preparation.

 

*This is not to be a routine arrest. What will occur in a few short moments is, in every sense of the word, a coincidence. Stars have seemingly aligned in order for the forthcoming events to take place; two vessels that crossed on a treacherous sea, in years past, are to be reacquainted on this unanticipated evening.

 

*Low-angle shot as Elasti-Girl vaults through the window in question, compressing herself on the landing in order to remain inaudible. The living room which she finds herself in is no more homely than the sticky air and concrete to be found outside. No lights are switched on, though she can distinguish cheap furniture, chipped wallpaper, and a worn rug. Rounding the divide to the kitchen, the odor belonging to scorched, spoiled meat reaches our heroine. Nearly stumbling over a sizable lump on the tile, she retreats a step, then kneels to make out its condition.

 

*A stray gust of wind upsets the blinds leading to the street-side balcony, and the minuscule glow of the lampposts lining the sidewalk below identify Elasti-Girl’s find: A man in a tattered bathrobe, unscathed on his limbs and body, but the face… The face is more scab than skin. The nose, lips, hair, earlobes and eyelids are seared off. Miraculously, patches of the marred, red flesh pulsate with blood flow, and shallow breath expels from between the protruding teeth. Elasti-Girl swivels to check the oven, and sure enough, it is still warm from its now-apparent deleterious usage.

 

*In the corner of her eye, she sees, from the same aperture in the blinds which revealed the victim, an object of human height. She reaches a hand across the room and pulls back the obstruction, to be met with what could be mistaken for a large melted candle. A few cautious steps towards the thing causes Elasti-Girl to recoil, in spite of herself, as she now perceives a face side-eyeing her within the heap of grunge. Twin yellow orbs sit deep inside their sockets, and the dribbling mouth beneath them calls the unsettled heroine by name.

 

Myself: Rita…

  

} MANY YEARS EARLIER {

  

Rita Farr made note of the sound stage’s patent aroma of cedar and hand sanitizer, as she lugged a suitcase containing one-third of her worldly possessions the last few steps of her journey to a movie studio in Atlanta, Georgia. Boom mics, ladders and lunches were being whisked about on all sides of her, not in a manner of tumult, but rather like schools of fish with a daily routine. Ms. Farr expected as much, and during her flight, began enforcing a mental note not to be swept up by the current, as she had been with previous bit parts handed to her.

 

Rita (to self): Seventh time’s a charm…

 

Finding a calmer spot, Rita unceremoniously drops her baggage, and peers upward at the reconstructed Spanish galleon positioned triumphantly as a centerpiece to the hangar. Cast and crew mill about the deck as they do on the ground level, tying ropes and checking props. Just as a sense of tranquility begins to seep into her consciousness, Rita detects movement in her direction in the corner of her vision. She faces the approaching man, rigid like a soldier in line-up, awaiting the inevitable tirade on the subject her five-minute tardiness, or how a fellow actor has had a breakdown. Instead, she is greeted by a small bow, that which may have seemed curt or sarcastic, if not for the candid grin on the dark-haired stranger’s face. He straightens, first his back, then his Georgian-era apparel, and speaks.

 

Stranger: I gather from your less than period-accurate garb, as well as that holdall, that you are a new arrival? One with a face like yours would not be working behind the camera.. Ms. Rita Farr, I should think? Marvelous! There’s no cause for alarm; you are presently quite ahead of our schedule.

 

Rita (still processing the first half of his chatter): Um, yes, I’m Rita. My agent was told one of the lead actresses was indisposed, though it wasn’t really made clear over the phone.. This isn’t an audition? I’m the only one they contacted? The thing is, I’ve never been given a part that was billed before the end crawl of the credits…

 

Stranger (beaming): It all sounds akin to what we call a “big break”, Ms. Farr!

 

Rita (to self): Not a first-name-basis type of place. I guess that’s alright.

 

Stranger: .. And, you would be correct on the subject of your predecessor. As cruel as it may come across, none of us were surprised to see Ms. Mona Taylor’s drinking habits get the better of her. I don’t like to speak ill of those unable to defend themselves; however, most denizens of this little production will tell you it is well rid of her presence.

 

Rita: Well, that… sort of puts a damper on my thankfulness for the opportunity…

 

The stranger ignores this, instead turning to welcome another actor passing by.

 

Stranger: Ms. Farr, this is Takeo Sato, a performer all the way from Tokyo, playing the part of one of our film’s roguish corsairs. Sato, Ms. Farr is Ms. Taylor’s stand-in.

 

Takeo (equally pleasant): A delight to make your acquaintance.

 

Rita nods politely, almost missing a second man, dressed just like Takeo, take an indirect route around their group, halting behind the yet-to-be-introduced stranger. He seemed the same age as Rita (years younger than the other actors), but a permanently sour expression and hunched frame made him appear infirm, unwell. Takeo and the stranger took no notice of him.

 

Stranger (to Takeo): Has “he” yet to master his choreography?

 

Takeo: Mr. Lord is working fervently, for one his age.

 

The two direct their attention to the ship’s deck, Rita following suit.

 

Stranger (waving a hand to an older gentleman in green and yellow, fencing with a stuntman near the rigging): Our fearless leader, Jonathan Lord.

 

Rita (agog): I had no idea he was attached to this! Or that he was still in the business.

 

Stranger: He is quite adamant to not wash up like many a typecast action star has. His friend Simon Trent, for example, has gone that way I’m afraid. Thus, a twelfth “Silverblade” motion picture was thrust into production, at his request.

 

Takeo: It saddens me to see a legend such as him work not out of passion, rather out of necessity.

 

Rita watches Lord trip the stuntman with a swipe of his rapier. She hated to see a ghost of an actor too, but there was still plenty of fight left in Lord.

 

The stranger once again takes control of the conversation, steering the ensemble towards two other actors chatting by the vessel’s bow. One, a man in deep blue carrying a haughty look about him; and a woman in red, with jet-black locks and a dour mien. Rita saw that the sour-faced man was still tailing the group from behind the talkative stranger, yet remained even further away from these two.

 

Stranger (nodding at each respectfully): Ms. Farr, meet Farley Fairfax, and Madame Laura De Mille. Th-

 

Laura (speaking over his exposition, in a French accent): Rita? Oh yes, Mona’s replacement. We’re finally rid of “ehr majesty”.

 

Rita: It’s nice to meet you; what is your roll in-

 

Laura: You ahre not going to be anothair detriment to zis picture, like she was, no? Your face, it is too sweet and unspoiled to be full of hot air yet.

 

Rita: That’s… relieving.

 

Farley: We hope you take a liking to our little company here. Always a pleasure, ushering in bright young people to the world of stage and screen. Farley Fairfax; more than happy to show you the ropes.

 

Rita: Oh I’m, eh, not exactly new to all this, but that’s generous of-

 

Stranger (once again intercepting the conversation, with a somewhat hurried and ruffled tone): There will be no showing of the ropes from you, Fairfax. Really, you seem to be swayed by the delusion that your smirk will every time win you an immediate “fidus Achates”.

 

Farley: My VERY old friend, I wouldn’t presume to hold the monopoly on using a few flashy words and shiny teeth to make a good impression.

 

Stranger: It’s a wonder to myself and the world of science that you attract anything, Fairfax.

 

Rita (over her shoulder and under her breath): You’re the one that introduced me to the two of them…

 

She is surprised to hear Takeo smother a laugh upon catching her comment, unbeknownst to the rest of their gathering.

 

As the situation seemed to be headed towards a scuffle between the stranger, Farley, and a simultaneously disinterested and aggravated Laura De Mille, the most colorful character yet to appear totters up to the impending drama; A bucktoothed fellow wearing green and lavender, and a battered brown hat atop his head. Farley and the others seem to drop their quarrel punctually upon his arrival, and Rita, at this point, is on the verge of booking a flight straight back to Michigan.

 

Laura: Not ‘im again! I cannot listen to zat imbecile one more MINUTE.

 

Rita: Who-?

 

Stranger (upon the bucktoothed man’s obtrusion): Mr. Spelvin, you’ve… found a way into the lot. Once again. Much to the dissension of the studio, as you may recall.

 

Mr. Spelvin: Hey, it’s “George” to my friends, remember? How’s it hangin’ kids? Boy, this is a real get-together, isn’t it?

 

Laura: You ahre like a goat, Monsieur Spelvin. A black ‘ole for wit and the relevance of whatevair space you occupy.

 

Mr. Spelvin: Always good for a yuck, Laura! Ha!

 

Farley: Spelvin, really, you can’t carry on like this. How many times now have you disrupted a take? Which line do you plan to botch this time?

 

Mr. Spelvin (finger guns): I read you, Farls, and I gotcha covered!

 

He moves to put a hand on the dark-haired stranger’s shoulder.

 

Mr. Spelvin: I asked a pal of ours to put in a good word for me with Mr. Lord.. for all those little unforeseen mix ups I’ve been affiliated with in the past, y’know how it is.. So, Lord gave me a bit, right, chum?

 

Stranger: I did not speak with Mr. Lord, Spelvin.

 

Mr. Spelvin: You eh… didn’t…

 

Stranger: I will not prevaricate. You are unwelcome to this location and its occupants, for the duration of our filming. It is expected of you to cease these infringements that only further solidify a poor image of your person. They have all, and will all, be in vain.

 

Mr. Spelvin (his bubbly facade now crumbling away): Now… look, I know you’re only teasing to toughen me up, but see this? The costume people don’t even need to make me a getup; I put this together at home! I-I thought the purple would be a nice contrast to the Silverblade costume, and well, the hat is iffy, I’ll grant you, but if we got like some safety pins we could bend it into a tricorne…

 

Stranger: Spelvin, Mr. Lord does not wish you to be here! You are a frustrated man incapable of bearing success.

 

Farley and Laura look crossly between the verbal duelists. The sour-faced man still lingers behind the stranger, hardly looking troubled in the slightest. Rita, by comparison, senses the imminent eruption. Takeo’s brow furrows.

 

Mr. Spelvin: Well… in all fairness, I was prepared for you saying something like that. Heheh, you… you might say I’m PACKING accordingly, heheheh…

 

His hands shift to their coat pockets. Rita feels opposing forces within her wanting to run, and to make a grab for whatever Spelvin is about to reveal. The sensation is like a frigid, iron grip on her very essence.

 

Mr. Spelvin (unadulterated bitterness clouding his words): Dismissal. That’s all life’s dealt me. A little thing I’ve picked up over the years, though… all that pain, that feeling of ostracism… nothing a little accelerant and igniter can’t wash away. Leastways, that’s how it works for me.

 

He cocks his head to the stranger, who still stands firmly in opposition of the madman. A scream within Rita, desperate to warn everyone, never makes it out.

 

Mr. Spelvin: Nighty-night, Sloane.

 

His hands whip out a can of hairspray and a lighter, aimed straight for the stranger, “Sloane”. As Spelvin flicks the mechanism, and a burst of flame reaches out to mar Sloane, Takeo leaps between them, palms out as though he is catching a softball. The fire sputters mid-flight and bends into tendrils, wrapping around Takeo’s fingertips. They absorb into his skin, leaving a faint orange glow. All but Takeo himself stand with mouths agape.

 

Mr. Spelvin: You’ve gotta be SHI-

 

With the debate having transitioned into an uproar, two stunt performers drop from the deck above and pin Spelvin to the floor before he can recuperate. His arms and legs flail, with the expected result of more pressure being applied to detain him.

 

Stuntwoman: Give it up; my friend here survived a POW camp breakout in Vietnam before he was doing fake falls, and I chewed up pipsqueaks like you when I was still in middle school. It’s pointless, mister. Futile.

 

Mr. Spelvin: NRAAAAGHH-

 

“Sloane”: My… undying gratitude… Ms. Sutton, Mr. Savage.

 

The stuntman gives a taciturn nod back, while wrestling Spelvin away.

 

Sloane: And… Takeo…

 

Rita looks about with Sloane for the superhuman within their midst, to see that Takeo Sato has been swamped with onlookers expressing their shock, and agents already trying to nab him for their next picture. Takeo seems overwhelmed, not wishing to drag out his moment of glory. Laura and Farley have gone off skulking away from the hubbub, obviously envious of Takeo’s attention.

 

Rita: So… “Sloane”.

 

Sloane (no longer his composed self): … You must forgive me, how silly; yes, that is my name. Paul Sloane, at your service…

 

Rita: NO one knew Takeo had… those powers?? It looks like this is his first time exposing them..

 

Sloane (trying to make merry): No people like show people, Ms. Farr, as they say, eh?..

 

Jonathan Lord calls down to Sloane from the mast.

 

Lord: Everything in order, Mr. Sloane?

 

Sloane: Eh, yes Mr. Lord..

 

Lord: No injuries? Good; let’s round up our people. We have a film to shoot.

 

Rita (to Sloane): Do you need to sit down? You’re pale.

 

Sloane: That would be an immense aid to my wits, thank you. Mr. Lord expects order, however, and-

 

Rita: … and I can chip in. I may be new around here, but I can carry my share of responsibilities. I also didn’t just have my life threatened. Come on, it’s the least a regular, un-powered human like me can do.

 

Sloane, wordless and debilitated, gives a look of appreciation, and moves away to a more restful area.

 

Rita spies the sour-faced man. He seems to notice her watching, and begins to move after Sloane.

 

Rita: Hey, he never introduced you.

 

The man stops. He offers only a glimpse of his eyes, still standing in profile to her.

 

Rita: You’re a friend of Paul? Sloane?

 

Man: .. Yeah. He’s… the best man I know. I wouldn’t be in show business, without him.

 

Rita: Why didn’t you announce yourself?

 

Man (shrug): I just follow along. That’s what I’m good at. Sloane knows how to best handle… stuff.

 

Rita (big sigh): Are we talking about the same gentleman who nearly got himself charbroiled a minute ago? To tell the truth, I can do without all the fancy talk and putting-on-airs. You got a name?

 

Myself (many years ago): … Basil.. Bas is fine.

  

} PRESENT DAY {

  

Rita stands stunned, nay, horrified, by the sight of me.

 

Myself: Oh, there’s no need for those dramatics. You would have, by now, heard tell of my “condition”; the exploits of Gotham’s Batman and his nemeses are national news after all. Thought our paths would never converge again, did you? That I would remain in Gotham to the last? How you must have prayed for that. No, that place, inciting mayhem, challenging The Bat… this offers me no solace any longer. Most of us CAN’T leave, you know. Riddler stays out of internalized necessity; Black Mask, for fear of losing his empire. Catwoman for “this” reason, Freeze for another… But I am privileged to come and to go as I please. It’s something I’m quite good at.

 

Rita: You’ve just assaulted someone, Basil. He’s nearly dead.

 

Myself: I’m… sorry, I don’t remember how to respond… to some things… The other ones are talking, and it’s hard to concentrate on… just one…

 

I trail off. Still wary of me, Rita’s eyes drift to the chair-side table beside her. On it, an unlit lamp, and a framed photo. The one I subconsciously began staring at.

 

Rita (trembling): Basil… Oh my god, Basil, do you know who’s house this is? That’s Paul Sloane you've done this to. Basil, why?

 

What are the words I had planned for this? They were just there…

 

Rita: Basil, you’re not well. I need to take you away from here. Paul needs medical attention.

 

Myself (unable to hold the tide of voices in my head at bay): Oh, she’s trying to mask her abhorrence for us with stoicism, bless her. How very genuine, personal. This moves us greatly.

 

Rita: WHY, Basil?

 

Myself (I’m… sad now?): … I thought… if I got rid of him, maybe I… wouldn’t be a lie. I can’t be whole. Not while HE’s here.

 

Rita (pleading): Even before you had this gift, you felt you had to be someone else to be worthwhile. You DON’T. You can leave all of this behind. Find the real you again and hold onto it.

 

Myself: YOU THINK I’VE NEVER TRIED? Tried to find normalcy in this maelstrom of raving madness that persists both within me and in the outside world? Let me spell something out for you, “Ms. Farr”; There is to be no normalcy in the lives of people like us. Do you recollect Farley Fairfax? Takeo? In years gone by, both have since died in unrelated attacks by DEMONS. Mona Taylor is imprisoned for crimes committed on behalf of a costumed gang in Gotham. You yourself were blessed with abilities from exposure to volcanic vapors, and you STILL battle your old rival Laura De Mille on occasion, assisted by your very own band of incorrigibly heroic freaks. Really, Rita, your taste in companionship…

 

Rita: Don’t do this to yourself.

 

Myself (droning): Mr. King Savage, our stuntman friend, was inducted into a covert special forces unit later on, and was never heard from again. Oh, have you ever heard of the actor Steven "Champ" Hazard? He vanished into thin air one day, quite literally. Delores Winters. It was hearsay for a while that her mind was stolen by a telepath…

 

Rita: I can’t help you anymore, Basil. The police will be taking over in a minute, and I can’t stop them. I wouldn’t want to.

 

She sounds hurt, though I can’t seem to distinguish why anymore.

 

Myself (wetly laughing): You need not feel guilt, this form is merely residue, only a spent shard of Basil, and it will die hastily. This one couldn’t kill Sloane, and we banish any part of us that harbors those pointless sentiments for the old days, you see… The rest of us is already down there. An officer, a citizen, it makes no difference…

 

Rita watches as I relax into a puddle, drizzling through the balcony slats down to the pavement.

 

Myself (faintly): You won’t find me. You won’t see me, ever again.

 

Pounding footsteps come from beyond the front door Rita has failed to unlock. Police shout for Elasti-Girl to dictate the situation.

 

Rita (without so much as a slight crack in her voice): I haven’t seen Basil in years.

Crap, crap, crap! " I think to myself, as the purple creature rampages across the lacrosse field towards Jessica. I need to be there. Distract the monster, or something. She's going to die, if I do nothing. But if I do, I run the risk of outing myself as a hero.. Am I really prioritizing my secret identity over her life? Really? This is a no brainer... My hands start to glow, ready to fire off a light bolt. It's then that one of the Somerset players extends her arms, hitting the creature square in the face. Others hit it with various projectiles, leading it away from Jessica. The creature looks really unphased by the attacks, and growls as it runs off towards Pine Grove Mall. When Nate's not looking, I leave the stands. Sorry bud. Jessica notices me running towards her and shakes her head. She points in the direction of the monster and mouths "I'll be fine.. Go get that thing before he hurts anyone else." Even though I can tell she's definitely not fine. But I just nod in response

 

Have to make a quick pit stop by my locker to get my costume, then I can go try and stop whatever that thing is. If only my costume could just project itself on me. That would make everything way easier. But unfortunately, that's not gonna happen. I use all the shortcuts I can to get to my locker. Minutes pass by and I finally get my costume, and follow the path of destruction.

 

Sure enough, the reptilian creature's at Pine Grove Mall causing oh so much property damage. Someone's fighting it. Dressed in a yellow and grey costume, with a golden visor. Definitely not someone I've ever seen before. I'm assuming he's a hero, but I can't say for certain just yet. Rock formations come spiking up from underneath the creature. The costumed hero sees me flying towards them, and gives me a peace sign. The creature manages to break out of the makeshift prison, and throws a car at the guy

 

"Sup?" He asks nonchalantly, as he creates a barrier in front of him. It's made of stone, and rock. I try making a crane construct, to pull the people out-of-the-way, but to no avail. Constructs still aren't working... Well that's a bust. Guess it's a good thing this guy prepared for it. Created a dome, so the car wouldn't fall on the civilians. Okay, yeah, he's a hero.

 

"Who are you?"

 

"I'd feel a little insulted if it weren't for the fact we're in Cardinal right now. The names Faultline, and don't you ever forget it bro!" He replies, giving me a thumbs up. Well that would explain his powers. But did he seriously just call me bro?

 

"Right... Well, it's nice to meet you Fautline. What brings you to Cardinal anyway? Also, do you have any bright ideas as to how to take this creature down? I'm open to suggestions, since this seems to have barely any effect on it." I repeatedly fire off light bolts, hoping to at least slow it down a little. Even going as far as to increase the intensity of the bolts. But the burn marks left by the bolts are quickly healed over. Safe to assume it has some sort of healing factor. Great... Faultline even summons a big boulder, and throws it at the creature.. Unfortunately for us, he catches it. It almost looks like it's grinning, before it throws it towards a crowd of people. I'm quick to blast the boulder quickly with multiple light beams, before Faultline recalls what remains of the boulder.

 

"Awh man, he caught my finisher.." He groans, almost under his breath before continuing. "Oh, I just happened to be in the neighbourhood watching a lacrosse game. Gotta show school spirit, and support the local team, ya know? Wait, why are you asking me for ideas? This isn't one of yours?" So he's from Somerset Academy? How convenient. Not everyday you'll see a Sunrise City hero over here.

 

"Nope! First time I've seen it!" Well, not quite the first time, but he doesn't need to know about mystical liquids, and everything else.

 

"Uhm, maybe we lure it to a nearby river or something? Maybe it can't swim?" He suggests with a shrug.

 

"Actually... That's not that bad of an idea... It looks like some sort of reptile. Reptiles and cold water don't mix.. At least, that's what school keeps telling me."

 

"Smart! You heard the guy! Hey ugly! Come and get me!" Faultline yells, as the debris on the ground rises up, and flies towards the creature. It's more of an annoyance than actually hurting it, but it's enough to lure it into following us. Along the way, Faultline works as crowd control, moving people out-of-the-way, along with hitting the creature with whatever he's got. As for me, I keep blasting it with low intensity light blasts. We manage to avoid the oncoming cars, and other bits of landscape that the reptile decides to throw at us.

 

It isn't long, before we reach Northbay Wharf, over in the Ashen Coast district. Helps that we keep provoking the reptile into running faster after us. I lower myself just slightly, just as we near the end of the pier. Using myself as bait.. Easily one of my worst ideas. Sure enough, the monstrous reptile takes the bait, tackling me into the deep blue waters of the bay. The creature shows its dominance by punching, and kicking me repeatedly. My powers are pretty much useless here in the water, so I'm left to try to swim away. Yep, absolutely terrible idea. Instantly regret it. Thankfully the reptile slows down with its punches, enough for me to avoid it rather easily. It keeps fighting to get up, but keeps struggling. It isn't long before it stops fighting entirely, and falls unconscious, its form switching into one more humanoid. At this point, Faultline scoops him up, as I swim to shore. Holy crap, it actually worked. I can't believe that actually worked.

It’s still pretty weird to think that Spider-Man is actually in the MCU now, and how his solo film is finally here! Now I’m going to be honest with you guys, I’ve never been that much of a fan of Spider-Man. The only Spidey movies I’ve liked thus far is The Amazing Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2, which are films that are good, but don’t really stand out with all the other comicbook films that are out there. But once I saw Spidey in Captain America: Civil War, I was very excited to see this iteration of the character continue on. So I saw the film last night with probably the best crowd ever! Everyone in the theater was cheering and laughing throughout the whole movie, it was great! But what’s more important than the crowd was the film itself. So was Spider-Man Homecoming the return we needed for ol’ web head, or could we see ANOTHER reboot in the coming years? Let’s check it out!

 

Good: So when I saw Spidey in Civil War, I knew this was the Spider-Man for me. Now after having his own solo film, I can confidently say that this is the best iteration of Spider-Man yet. Tobey Maguire was a good Peter Parker and Andrew Garfield was a good Spider-Man, but Tom Holland is the perfect Peter Parker AND Spider-Man. The reason why I haven’t been a fan of the past Spider-Man films is that it felt too large-scale for a street hero like Spider-Man, but this movie got it so right! Spider-Man in this film is the most real I’ve seen the character, by the way he helps people, by the way he gets around this city, and just how Peter Parker treats being Spider-Man, like how it’s a small-time job and he’s just waiting for the big promotion to being part of the Avengers. But with that, we also get Spider-Man’s “with great responsibility” arc throughout the movie, that eventually leads to a pretty powerful scene where Spidey realises Peter Parker and Spider-Man are one. Like Tony Stark says in the trailer, if Peter’s nothing without the suit, he doesn’t deserve it. Speaking of Tony Stark, another reason why I love Spider-Man Homecoming is because I think this film is the epitome of what a solo MCU film should be like. It’s small scale, yet it feels like it exists in a bigger world. Iron Man in this film had the perfect amount of screen time in this film. Trust me, this movie isn’t even close to an Iron Man 4, but with the inclusion of Stark and Happy Hogan, I really want an Iron Man 4 now, I feel like we need an Iron Man 4 that truly wraps up the character and connects to the MCU like Spider-Man Homecoming, unlike Iron Man 3. I mean seriously, after seeing how Captain America and Thor are getting their 3rd movies, I feel like Iron Man got the short end of the stick. Speaking of the MCU, this movie has some of the best Easter eggs that I can’t wait to go into detail in my Spoiler Talk. Anyways, let’s talk about the high school aspect of this film, which I think all the other Spider-Man films have completely failed at. Like what director Jon Watts said, this movie does feel like a John Hughes film. This movie takes the emotions of a high schooler goes through, and basically emplifies it because this highschooler is a superhero and is dealing with things that kids shouldn’t be dealing with. Now I’ve gone on about tom Holland and his portrayal as Peter Parker, but I haven’t mentioned the rest of the cast. The rest of the cast was pretty good, the students were captured pretty well, but none of them really stood out except for Ned Leeds, who was great. He’s like how Louis and the rest of his crew is with Ant-Man, but with Spider-Man. Aunt May was pretty good, there was a lot of great jokes in the movie about how young she is, and with that young age comes lots of energy, which I thought was refreshing for the character. The last, but certainly not least thing I’d like to talk about is the Vulture. Now I think the Vulture is a pretty bad character in the comics, I’ve never liked him, I mean he looks so stupid! So I was pretty disappointed when it was announced that he’d be the main villain, but once they cast Michael Keaton in the role and revealed his outfit, I had hope. I must say, the Vulture in this movie is one of the greatest comicbook villains I’ve seen on screen yet! He was scary, he created a challenge for Spider-Man, and to top that all off, there’s a certain thing we learn about it that just makes him so much better and leads to one of my favorite scenes in the movie! I also like how the Vulture’s real message about blue collar workers against the rich and his beef with Stark Industries, it really elevated the message of how this was a small scale movie and why a small scale works for a character like Spider-Man.

 

Bad: Now I was excited to hear that michael giacchino would be scoring the film, because I was such a huge fan of his Doctor Strange score. Sadly, I really didn’t like the score for this movie, it was really bland and not a single song was memorable in the slightest. It’s probably my least favorite MCU soundtrack to date. Now my next complaints are some pretty big spoilers, so I won’t say anything except that there was a disappointing reveal and there was a decision made by a character that made me pretty angry, that’s all I’ll say. Finally, I’d like to talk about the trailers. Thankfully I only watched the first two trailers but after the movie I watched all the marketing for the film and holy shit, there is some stuff in there that I’m so glad I didn’t watch before the movie. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, please stay away from the trailers! The last thing I’ll add is there are some cool shots from the trailers that didn’t make it into the movie, which is pretty weird because some of these shots were like some pretty good money shots! Anyways, that’s was just a little nitpick.

 

Overall, this is not only one of my favorite MCU films, but by far the best Spider-Man film I’ve seen. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m a Spider-Man fan now, but I am 100% a Spider-Man: Homecoming fan! It’s so weird because I love this movie so much, but when I was ranking it with the rest of the MCU, it’s lower than I expected! But I guess that happens when like the top 5 or 6 MCU films are some of my favorite movies of all time. Anyways, Spider-Man: Homecoming is the Spider-Man I always wanted and it delivered on almost every level. For that reason I’m going to give it a 8.75/10. You gotta go out and see this movie right now, you won’t regret it! And if you have seen it, let me know what you thought about it in the comments below, and make sure not to leave any spoilers!

 

==Greendale Community College==

 

Day 15

 

Flannegan was moving through the hall, a paintball gun in his hand; at his side was Pierce Hawthorne, dressed in an ill fitting Captain America costume. As two equally gaudily dressed students lunged towards them, Flannegan fired his gun at them in quick succession, splattering them both in yellow paint. As they ran out the door, paint dribbling down their clothes, Flannegan smirked. 'Idiots, Never been in a real fight in their lives.'

 

Just a couple of hours ago, it had been just like any other day at Greendale; loud and grating. Then, early that morning, Pelton announced a paintball tournament (something of an annual tradition here at this circus apparently) and that, was when everything changed. The students devolved into savages, each of them obsessing over the coveted prize; a few measly tickets to the next Marvel film. Donning the costumes of their favourite fictional do-gooders, they went to war with each other; The screams of the downed rang out all across the grounds, and the hallways ran red with... well, paint. Red paint.

 

But that wasn't the worst of it; Blake had been taken out by a stray pellet, while Brown had joined up with the rest of that diverse squad of morons, determined to quell the fighting. Softie. And as for Mayo? Mayo, Flannegan reasoned, was quite likely dead, having probably swallowed a gallon of white paint thinking it was milk, the poor idiot. That, had left Flannegan stuck with Hawthorne. Ousted from his own group for some easily justifiable reason, he had eagerly joined Flannegan's faction and together, they roamed the halls in search of Noah Kuttler, who had disappeared at the start of the game, and hadn't been seen since, certain that he could give them the advantage in this fight.

 

Flannegan motioned to Hawthorne, and the pair darted around the corner for cover. Someone was approaching: someone who, judging by their humming, was a big fan of Michael Haggins. "Ba-da-da-daaa-da da da da-da. Ba-dada-daaaa-da. Da. Da. Da. Daaaa-daa," the voice of Abner Krill sang cheerily.

 

~

 

Standing guard outside the bathroom, Troy sighed as a group of red and blue clad players ran past him. "Everyone wants to be Spider-Man..." he said bitterly, looking down at his own identical costume. "I called dibs, why does no one else get that?"

 

"Hey, Guess who I found cowering in the women's room?" Britta asked, a black quiver strapped to her back, as she dragged the Dean by his ear, his face dripping in red paint.

 

"The Red Skull," Abed stated, twiddling the gold medallion around his neck, and fixing his red cloak. "Of course."

 

Chuck nodded, dismissing Abed's bizarre method acting. "Dean Pelton, always a pleasure."

 

"Charles," The Dean winked at him. "Jeffrey."

 

Jeff lowered his plastic shield, as he approached Pelton. "Let's skip the pleasantries, Dean, we know about the gun tags."

 

The Dean paused. "What gun tags?" he said extremely unconvincingly.

 

"How about the one Blake pulled out of his. Before your people had him shot?" Annie asked, waving the small chip in front of Pelton's face.

 

"Oh, those gun tags," he gulped. "I can explain. After last year's debacle, I diverted some of the school's budget into ensuring that could never happen again. I had each gun wired with a failsafe, an automatic disrupter that could turn the player's own guns against them. One that's networked to a four digit code. I would've been able to shut it down earlier but, well..." he gestured to his paint splattered face. "The ends justify the deans, you guys," he pleaded.

 

The group looked unconvinced. "Wait, is that why our toilet paper is one-ply?" Troy asked, aghast.

 

"Let's not get into that," the Dean said uneasily.

 

"Wow, you are Hydra," Abed said, shaking his head in saddened disillusion.

 

"Oh, can we stop with the Nazi comparisons, please?" Pelton protested. "The point is, I had the program saved to this USB. Even if someone decrypted the code, it'd be useless without this."

 

The study group huddled together. Annie's the first to speak. "We need that code. Keep it out of anyone else's hands."

 

Abed nodded. "I agree. Whoever owns that code, would own the game. No guns, no players. Game... over."

 

"So, what's the play, you guys?" Chuck asked. "This is your school."

 

Abed cleared his throat. "By watching all 23 Marvel movies, analysing their tropes, their plot devices, their third act CGI-filled final battles, I've been able to predict several possible outcomes."

 

"Really? 23?" Shirley asked, lowering her foam hammer. "And in how many did they win?"

 

...

 

"22. Though, if you consider Thor the Dark World as a cinematic failure, 21," Abed said, twiddling his fabric goatee.

 

"Pretty good odds," Britta said optimistically.

 

"True," Abed agreed. "But there are still several ways we could lose. Including one where Pierce goes feral and eats one of us. That one's got a pretty high probability."

 

"That may be true Abed, but I kept it very secure," The Dean said smugly.

 

"Is it my birthday?" Jeff asked flatly.

 

"Jeffrey-" the Dean began.

 

"Is it my birthday?" Jeff repeated.

 

"What you need to understand is, I'd do anything to protect this school and despite my fondness for-"

 

Jeff un-holstered his gun and aimed at Pelton's forehead.

 

"It's not your birthday Jeffrey!" Pelton shrieked, diving onto the floor. "It's... It's the day you enrolled here."

 

Jeff paused, turning back to the group. "How am I supposed to know that?"

 

"The Dean's computer," Annie reasoned. "It'll have all the student details on there."

 

"And that's all I needed to hear," a voice called out.

 

Chuck's eyes widened as he tilted his head towards their opponent. "Mayo? Mitch, you're still in the game?"

 

"And winning, last I checked. Guess condiment weaponry has its perks after all," he smiled, licking the barrel of his 'Sauce Spreader.' "Unregistered too," he stated, waving the gun at the assembly.

 

"Woah, careful there, Mitch. This suit isn't machine washable," Chuck said cautiously, "Let's put the gun down."

 

"I don't think so, Kite-Man. I finally found something I'm good at. I can't just throw that away. Now get in the corner, all of you: When my work is done here, I will hold condiminion over all."

 

"Yeah, let's not get ahead of ourselves, they're cinema tickets," Jeff stated.

 

"That means you too, Hammerhead. Yours is a target not easily missed."

 

Jeff nodded and joined the others in the corner.

 

"Of course! I'm an idiot: Mayo's still got Fearless in him!" Chuck realised, cursing himself for his oversight.

 

"And for those of us who don't speak Supervillain, Fearless is-?" Britta asked.

 

"Ah... How to explain... Have you, uh, ever been high before?" Chuck asked.

 

"Ha! No!" Britta laughed.

 

"Yes," Shirley spoke up, glaring at her. "She has."

 

"Well, it's a lot like that... Tears down inhibitions and the like. Less munchies though."

 

"Woah, Fearless sounds awesome," Troy said.

 

"Oh, it is, kid," Mayo smirked. "It really is... But if you don't mind, I'll be taking that drive now."

 

Pelton nodded nervously and presented the thumb drive to Mayo, who quickly stuffed it down his white y-fronts, and with a sadistic smile, opened fire at the group. Jeff blocked his attack with the shield, but Abed, Annie, Britta, Shirley and Troy were not so fortunate. His work done, Mayo waved goodbye to Chuck, and ran down the hallway, victorious.

 

"Why the hell did you give it to him?" Jeff complained.

 

"He had a gun, Jeffrey!" the Dean sniffled.

 

"That fires paint and condiments!"

 

Abed stood in front of Pelton. "I'm sorry, Jeff," he spoke. "There was no other way."

 

"There were several ways!"

 

The only other survivor, Chuck rose to his feet, and grabbed the nearest paint cartridge. "I gotta get after him," he said tiredly. "Talk him down, maybe."

 

"Chuck, wait," Annie said. "It's as you said. If Fearless only enhances what's already inside. Maybe... Maybe Mayo is just a nut-job. Which, uh, not to be 'that guy,' but that would explain a lot."

 

"I can't believe that," Chuck shook his head. "I still have to try."

 

"Then... at least take this," Annie called out, unbuckling her weapon from her catsuit and tossing it to Chuck.

 

"Annie, is that a real gun?" Jeff asked.

 

She shook her head, "Taser."

 

...

 

"And? Your idea was, what, Jeff? Flaunt your abs?" she asked irritably.

 

"Well? Was it?" The Dean inquired.

 

~-~

 

Krill sauntered into the room. "Hello Otis. Hello... Dick Cheney? Weird. Is he with you?"

 

"Gonna kill him if I say yes?" Flannegan asked, his eyes narrowed.

 

"Now, wait a minute-" Pierce interjected.

 

"gONnA kIlLL hIM iF i SaY yeS? Uh-doy!" Krill joked, tossing an orange fireball in the air.

 

"Then yes," Flannegan said.

 

At this, Pierce put a hand to his chest, as though he were having a heart attack and collapsed on the floor.

 

"Huh," Krill mused. "Guess some things do just take care of themselves. Krilliant."

 

"Did you just-" Otis began.

 

"Let's not speak of that."

 

As the two vanished into a bright portal, Pierce opened a single eye, and once he was sure the coast was clear, ran out of the building.

 

~-~

 

Dressed in his full Firebug garb, Rigger climbed through the window into the Dean's office, loud air-raid-like sirens blaring in the distance. "I'm in," he spoke into his walkie talkie, cautiously scanning the room. "Place is a mess," he noted, looking at the array of spilled papers and the askew cupboard door. "Think maybe a fight broke out here."

 

"Just get to the computer," the voice on the other end said impatiently. Gar's.

 

Rigger obeyed, and turned on the monitor in the center of the room. "Jeez, this guy is into some weird crap," he noted, as he scrolled through the Dean's search history.

 

"Focus, Rig. Can you find Chuck?"

 

"Give me a mo, Gar... Huh, looks like all paintball guns have been fitted with some kind of tracker... If I can access those, I should be able to... There; picking up a faint signal from Chuck's gun tag; The library building. It looks like Otis is in the music room right now. Seems Kuttler's somewhere in the science building and Mayo's steadily making his way across the quad. And I've got nothing on Blake. Huh, that's odd," he paused.

 

"What?" Gar asked.

 

"Otis' signal went blank for a moment, then it reappeared on the other side on the other side of the campus. Like he was-"

 

"So? Maybe his gun glitched out or something," Gar theorised.

 

"Yeah, yeah maybe."

 

There was a moment's silence, then Reardon spoke. "Wait, our Mayo? He's still active?" he asked in amazement.

 

"More than active, he's a machine! Looks like he's taken out half the school," Rigger remarked. He was unfocused, his eyes drawn to a slightly ajar closet on the far right.

 

"Rig? You still with us?" Gar asked.

 

"Yeah, just got some kinda costume closet here, kinda weird."

 

"Hey, you don't think he could be King of Cats in disguise, do you?" Drury interjected, his voice ringing out from the walkie talkie.

 

"Nah, I don't think that's a problem," Rigger said. "The Dean likes dogs," he declared, pulling out a Dalmatian onesie from out of the closet.

 

"He really likes dogs."

 

"Still, you never know. He could be a supervillian." Drury pondered.

 

"Nah," Rigger said hesitantly. "I wouldn't go that far." He paused, as he stuck his hand deeper into the closet. "No, wait, I spoke too soon, there is also a cat costume in here. I repeat, there is also a cat costume in here."

 

"Describe it," Drury said cautiously.

 

Rigger handled the black lingerie and headband, and swallowed. "Slutty."

 

"I mean, he still could be King of-"

 

"Drury, let it go," Gar advised. "Rig, see if you can't patch us through to Chuck."

 

"I'm on it. Chuck, can you hear me? It's Joey," he spoke into his second walkie talkie with increasing desperation. "Chuck? Chuck?"

 

"Joe-? Am I glad to hear your voice," Chuck spoke at last.

 

"And likewise, bud. I'm gonna patch you through to Drury now. That alright?"

 

"Drury?" Chuck sounded out of breath. "Yeah, sure, put him on."

 

"Chuck!" Drury cried out. "What's going on out there? It looks like the Asylum on pizza day."

 

"It's mental, Drury. Students are going crazy over those movie tickets! It's only Black Widow!"

 

"Hey, wait, what're you trying to say?" Rigger asked defensively, taking control of the walkie talkies again.

 

"I'm just saying, her story is over. Any supplementary material simply isn't needed."

 

"That's why it's called supplementary, Chuck," Rigger said, as though his point had been made.

 

"Can we focus please?" Chuck asked tiredly.

 

"Oh, no," Rigger retorted. "Let's 'focus' on you and your apparent hatred of the MCU."

 

"I didn't say hatred, did I say hatred? I like Thor, I like Thor 2-"

 

"THOSE ARE THE WORST ONES."

 

"It- it doesn't matter- It's Mayo, he's gone mad," Chuck explained.

 

...

 

"Well, madder" he added. "He's gone into a frenzy like the rest of them. Suppose he thinks that if he wins... I dunno..."

 

Gar frowned. "Look, I've dealt with Mayo before and I can deal with him again. I'll go down there and-"

 

"That's a no-go, Gar, the rules of paintball assassin are... actually pretty vague, but one thing's clear, we have to do it alone."

 

Drury's voice filled with panic. "Let me help-"

 

"No, he's right Drury. If we take part, we compromise the game's integrity, leaving us with a lot of very angry college students," Reardon advised. "Best thing we can do is to just... wait it out."

 

"But I can enroll in a class, I always meant to take home economics!" he stammered.

 

"Drury!"

 

He sighed. "Get out of there, Rig."

 

"You sure? I can still-"

 

"Get out of there," Drury repeated.

 

"Affirmative," Joey nodded, as he headed back towards the window, then immediately recoiled: Staring back at him was an old, balding white man, paintball gun in hand, his eyes narrowing as he examined Joey closely.

 

"Troy?" Pierce asked.

 

Rigger looked back at him, frowned, and then slammed the window and drew the blinds shut. "Great, and now the racists are back."

PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE AND COMMENT IF YOU FAVORITE

 

(2PJL) Coast City -

 

My name is Kyle Rayner...and I'm about to die. Just moments ago it was smooth sailing for me. I was just, you know, fighting the usual insane maniac, who happens to know your secret identity, using your "super awesome Green Lantern ring". You know, the usual. But then, the next thing I know my " super awesome Green Lantern ring" ran out of batteries. Guess they were false advertising when the labeled it as "super awesome". So yeah, now I'm currently falling to my death. Luckily, I manage to shift my body towards an alley way where I land inside an open dumpster.

 

Eh...ew. Did someone bury their dead cat in here? It sure smells like it. Maybe I wasn't so lucky after all. I leap out of the dumpster and away from the stench of whatever was inside and make my way down the alley. I see an old trench coat lying on the ground next to a trash barrel. Perfect. I put it on, concealing my costume. I slip off my mask and begin to place it in the coat pocket. But before I do, I realize how much it looks like a crab's face. Heh, crab mask.

 

As I leave the alley and head for my apartment to charge my ring, I look above me for my attacker, but don't see him anywhere. Whatever, must have got scared. I mean, a crab mask really can be scary I guess. I wonder if it would scare that Batman guy over in Gotham City. He's really into that fear stuff so probably not. Ooo, or what about Superman? Heck, I bet I could take him on, I bet I could beat him! I mean his weakness is the color green, right? Then again...mine and the rest of the GL Corps is the color yellow...hey, I know, I could scare the guardians! They've never seen my crab mask before, in fact the probably still think I'm using the costume that I had when I first became a Green Lantern, the default. Little do they know that I designed my own, more stylish outfit.

 

Suddenly I realize that I'm walking up the front steps to my apartment. Wow, I really was lost in thought there. At least I didn't get lost in reality too though, right?

 

I enter the apartment complex and head up the tall spiral stair case to my room. Man, I hate living on the top floor. I spent my whole budget at the time to get a nice room higher up so I don't have to live with all the footsteps above. But now I realize that either way footsteps will haunt you, I mean, look at how many I have to take to get to my room. Yeesh, they seriously need an elevator in here.

 

Once I make it to my room, I "plug-in" my ring to my unnecessarily large lantern charger thing, and then sit down at my drawing table. I sketch a quick picture of the man that was chasing me earlier and pin it on my bulletin board, with all my other sketches and information on the criminals that I've encountered during my time as a Green Lantern.

 

I walk over to my couch and turn on the T.V. As I lay down to rest the screen cuts out. Seconds later the image reemerges and I leap to my feet in anger...on the screen was Alex. Her mouth had been taped shut and her arms were pinned to her sides by many strips of tape. Suddenly a pistol came into view and balanced the barrel on the side of Alex's head. Alex tried to argue with the gun's user but her attempts were muffled by her gag.

 

I run over to my ring and slip it on. How could I let this happen!? In all the chaos, I completely forgot that I had left Alex back at the Big Belly Burger. Now that maniac that was after me earlier has got her I assume. I wondered why he didn't follow me after my ring ran out of juice. I guess he realized that he couldn't take me on in a fist fight, and was going to have to use other methods, and having seen us together in the diner, he got an idea. I've got to find her fast, but how? I have no idea where she is. I never thought that it would come to this, but I'm going to need to ask the guardians for help on this one...

 

Next - Rescue Mission

 

Hey, it only took me 2 months to get out a new issue! That's gotta be a new record. Then again back when I wrote Justice League (good times) I would release and issue every day. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this issue! I tied hard to throw in some easter eggish stuff for Kyle Rayner fans. Go ahead and tell me in the comments if you found them! I'll give you a hint, there are two. Oh, and hey, thank you guys so much for 800 followers! I actually think I'm sitting at 803 right now. But none-the-less I really appreciate it. Anyways, I hope that you all enjoyed the issue. Thanks! -Michael

THE DISCOVERY by gleitzeit blog (the lost Interview in Rome)

 

I am using magnifying glass to be able to read a a PDF file of a very low quality.

My eyes are hurting. What I have found is something that is just not available…

I must say on the search for anything tagged “invisible” I find some pretty amazing

stuff I would never know about (later on that)

 

Paul meet me at the gate. He looked younger than I had expected. Dressed

casually.

As a host he cordially offered me to dine. While we entered the hall I had an urge to ask him, is this a museum? trying not to break anything as we passed by sculptures, paintings,

ceramics and a lot of other pieces of art which I had never seen before.

This unexpected excitement spoiled my appetite, and I was no longer hungry and

instead drank some wine.

He made clear that it is not any kind of a museum, but instead, his Paul’s studio. He lives not in Rome, but by the Terranian sea, where he was going shortly.

I asked Paul how he earns a living. Paul thought a little and tried to find an appropriate explanation. He finally lit on: "I am of independent means and don’t have to earn a living" pouring me another glass of wine.

I asked him: “ Can I buy some of your paintings? How much it will cost me?”

This question Paul left unanswered but he said that commonly he paints his

pictures without the intention to sell them.

Earlier I noticed a little girl and a young woman moving about him.

 

OMG!!!! I am shaken up. NOBODY KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT Paul Jaisini’s personal life! I don’t believe this. THANK YOU GOOGLE! this is like really mystifying. I am not an emotional person, rather someone who loves to work hard and get the job done. This turned into something other than working.

Google nowadays is not your “grandfather’s” google so to speak. It is tailored

around you, your daily Internet activity, So finding any news, any special

information is no longer an easy task. I guess because there’s too much of

everything and what one is looking for could be placed out of reach. So we sort

of live on a planet that is flat as in dark ages. I say that because if one is

provided the info that is tailored with limitation it implies that breaking

away is not something one would even comprehend! We are too used to trust our social functioning and think that we know everything, on top of all news provided to us by the honest practice of the broadcasting companies.

We don’t want to be those conspiracy freaks with no trust to anything or

anyone. But truth is, if you don’t want to pay high dollar for some expert

articles on the topics that could give more than the free info, you are really

up against a brick wall of the new unknown reality and a total incapacity to acquire

the needed info of high quality without spending your whole life learning all the crap on the net and beyond in order to find finally what you need.

So search is a tricky mother. If you are creative and sort of spontaneous you

might somehow find your own style of fishing out the essentials. But in my case I

often felt helpless and lost no longer willing to participate in this

undertaking trying to document Gleitzeit.

It doesn’t look like I had managed a short explanation. But this is my formula of

finding something that is not available on the tailored to fit google search.

I enter the variations of phrases and words from the gleitzeit context of emails, postings, essays and add some other words I find on my way of locating Paul Jaisini's links. Turning the tag in a sort of a potion number nine that had proven to fetch some impossible to find info on such a quick inquiry without opening thousands of websites where I might find or might not find anything at all. And the most effective findings are with the tag "invisible" added to other things, be it email abbreviations and so on.

 

“The other must be his wife”, I thought, because Paul called her with some pet name's asking for a bottle of wine, for a book, or an ash tray.

“Is she your wife? “ I asked just in case.

Paul looked me in the eyes and said: “She is not my wife, nor the mother of my daughter, she is my secretary. “

The secretary I sensed didn’t like me much.

She didn’t call Jaisini by his name, Paul, but she instead addressed him as

mister Jaisini. She seemed obsequious and perhaps didn’t like me for my unrestrained manner and direct questions. She said to Paul: “You should not waste your time on this interview. You need to return to your work. “

Paul said: “It will be few minutes." and spent a few hours with me. A self-ruling man.

Paul didn’t drink any wine but he behaved at times extravagantly, showing the

outlines of the silhouettes in his paintings and explaining what was happening in the pictures.

Paul said that the point of his art being hidden from the public is an

intrigue that engages press in constant attempts to uncover the ‘truth’ behind it all. Nevertheless it is very disappointing, that people don’t care about real art, as they do about private affairs.

We went upstairs and in a spacious hall I saw a large painting. I didn’t hide my

awe.

“Wow! Where did you get such a big piece of canvas? The art stores don’t sell

this linen in such sizes. “

“It is stitched together from pieces," answered Paul.

“How did you reach the upper parts of the painting"

"I climbed the riser. Do you see the nude black man up there, tangled with a

serpent?"

"It reminds me of Laocoön. Is it intentional?"

"No, he is a symbol of physical grace without intellect. Do you see a group of

female bodies intertwined in a threesome?"

"No, I don’t see it. Where is the threesome?"

"To the left, look there."

"I look there."

"There the three figures, here is one, here is another one and the third one."

"Third is not a female figure, it’s some animal."

"It’s a female, but there is an animal, a bit higher up. The clown in the center

tears his mouth in a bloody smile, carrying out his role of a fool, laughing when

he wants to cry."

"Is that a monkey?"

"You got it, she is another symbol of the fate, she stopped hitting the tom-tom,

her direct purpose in circus. When she stopped to play and started to think, she

realized that her life is pitiful and she wants to kill herself. It’s a second

symbol of the same meaning."

"Tell me about that threesome again."

"Well, they show the natural grace, as three graces would, the sensual concept of

procreation."

"This picture must be a depiction of a circus performance, I suppose. Is it ?

Why it is so dynamic?"

"It is a circus performance but is the personal trial of human character. The ball construction is an object: - Paulsen’s ball, it is also a title of the painting."

"This ball creates some weight and it seems to move the composition with it’s

size and position and it seems to be on a verge of rolling down."

"You’re right! I also sense this immediate impulse to prevent the clown to fall

off that ball.

We went to other paintings, whole series of paintings.

When I gathered all my sensations about the art that surrounded me, it was time to leave. Paul Jaisini escorted me to the door. I shook his hand saying:

"You are an interesting man!"

"I am not a man..."

(the last sentence was a good ending)

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolism

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolism_(arts)

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invisibility

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatalism

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gracefulness

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impossible_object

 

Have to type as I read PDF file that can’t be copied

 

Have to type as I read PDF file that can’t be copied

I am using magnifying glass to be able to read a a PDF file of very low quality. My eyes are hurting. What I have found is something that is just not available… I must say on the search for anything tagged “invisible” I find some pretty amazing stuff I would never know about (later on that) Now I am sitting in my office instead of having night out. It really is an impossible task to just discern the text. I filled up a spray bottle with cold water to spray my face to frequently refresh my eyes, as they get tired from the magnifying glass. It’s totally worth it, the thrill of discovery is my ultimate high.

Subj: Re: any suggestions?

Date: 2/5/00 Pacific Standard Time

From: bcwoodward@bigfoot.com (B. Woodward)

To: Yustas61@aol.com

CC: Angela Ahermeign

The attached file with original text before translation can be used in all related your project on Paul Jaisini.

All my corrections are in () and sometimes they replace the words nearby, other times they get inserted or have comments as well. It should be clear. Angela, you had some trouble with colloquialisms, unclear constructions and misplaced verb tenses. You switched among various forms of the past with irregularity. I’ve brushed it up. It makes a good narrative, though. Very interesting :)

Original Message-

From Angela A, Sent Thursday, February 03, 2000, 4: 25 PM

to bcwoodward@bigfoot.com

Subject Any suggestions

My first meeting with Paul Jaisini in Rome

(was it your first meeting with him, or just first time in Rome… unclear construction)

Paul Jaisini’s appearance at the exhibition of his art made a lot of noise in 1995 in Rome.

(caused a lot of noise, a lot of excitement, or was it just a noisy appearance?)

After newspapers published the (a) photograph of Paul Jaisini in the empty gallery, I read the article and realized how lucky I was to be in Rome. Nobody saw Paul Jaisini’s paintings. Yes, nobody… This what happened next. I called him once, then (a) second time. (,b)But Paul didn’t return my calls. Unfortunately I was not able to stay on guards (stand guard is the appropriate colloquialism) to catch him by the art gallery being (as I was) preoccupied with my (own) business. So I decided that I have (needed, not have) to find a way to see Paul Jaisini’s (hidden) paintings if he hides them. Such extravagance has (had) to be stopped.

I decided to offer him (no him here) to write a testament about (to) the existence of his art (, which would necessarily lead to him revealing it to me.) which will rise the necessity to see it.

I heard about Paul Jaisini before (that time) because he is quite a (reverse the a and quite) well-known contemporary artist. When I set up the appointment to meet (him) I easily found his cozy two- story town-house surrounded by (an) antique iron fence.

When I called (on) the intercom it took a while to explain who I was and why (I had come) did I come.

Paul meet me at the gate. He looked younger than I (had) expected. Dressed casually.

As a host he cordially offered me to dine. While we were entering (entered) the hall I had an urge to ask him, (“I) is it (this) a museum (?), trying to brake (break) anything, (no comma… as we passed) passing by sculptures, paintings, ceramic pieces (ceramics… drop the p word) and a lot of (other pieces of) art which I (had never seen before. drop rest of the sentence) was not able…

Gosh, I can feel how B. Woodward was feeling… WILL SHE REALLY SEE THE PAINTINGS by PAUL JAISINI?????? my eyes are punishing me for this thrill. I need to stop looking into the magnifier when I am now writing a comment without looking into unreadable copy.

Just waiting to get the courage to continue… my eyes need rest, I made myself some coffee with soy milk. But it surely means I want to prolong the suspense. I have no idea what is written in that text I located only god knows where or how.

I think that a gamer guru would understand me after he/she played hardest strategic games for a very long time and turned into a savvy thrill seeker.

  

medium.com/art-submissions/don-t-bother-901454f687cd The time has come to start making sense of things, of the world, of each other. We think we’re doing that, but we’re actually doing the opposite. We are complicating…EVERYTHING…tothe point of utter madness. Our world has become one ginormous madhouse, ESPECIALLY cyberspace — this alternate world we created within our world that seems to have created a world within itself — yet to be identified, recognized, and named. Making sense of things is not a bad thing. For example, let’s start with one major web enigma: Paul Jaisini and “Gleitzeit” which is this, uh, odd art movement the guy started in the 90s. If you simply google either of those names, I gaurantee you a good WTF moment or two. You’ll not just be scratching your head over this one. You’ll be scratching every part of your body like a delusional nutcase who thinks your skin is literally crawling with countless bugs. IT’S GONNA BUG THE HELL OUT OF YOU, let’s just say…maybe for a day or a week…or maybe, as for some folks, long after you’ve discovered it. You’ll be itching to understand what it’s about even just a little bit. Your mind will try to make sense of Paul Jaisini and/or Gleitzeit, it will want to, but will fail miserably. Frustration and anger will start setting in. I know because that’s how it was for me and every person that tried. The deeper you dig, the more you try to figure it out, the more confused, overwhelmed, baffled, and perplexed you’ll get. I guess for the people that attempt to understand the Paul Jaisini and Gleitzeit thing or debunk it, my advice is: DON’T EVEN TRY. DON’T GO THERE. IT’S NOT FOR YOU. The sleepless nights, the uncertainty, the questions and ideas that start invading your head, the horror of “waking up” from normality and regularity, the trauma of moving from one dimension to another… is not worth it. Well, for me it was worth it, but not for others. They claim it’s crazy and even dangerous for the mind, Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit. Well, sure, I mean you gotta break some eggs to make an omelette, dontchya? So, Gleitzeit is the omelette and all parties involved in GIG (Gleitzeit International Group) are the eggs. Makes sense. Speaking of which, “they” don’t want it to make sense, not even close. As a member of the group, I’m breaking protocol BIG TIME by writing this, by encouraging that you go out there, look this stuff up and figure it out, take away its shield of senselessness and defeat it… for the sake of a better world and future for us all. I hope someone out there hears me….one way or another, it had to be said…. Stelly Riesling

 

+1 in cmnts.

1. I got home at 9:30 this morning and decided to take pictures. I've never taken pictures so early in the day.

2. Seeing as I have so much time on my hands, I've actually been researching colleges and crap. It's all so confusing. Art schools want so much out of you but so little at the same time. asdfghjkl.

3. That ring I'm wearing in this picture was given to me by my grandma for my 16th birthday. It's all expensive and whatnot and my mother doesn't trust me to wear it outside the house. Except on special occassions.

4. This other ring my grandma gave me; my mother wears for me. Because she 100% doesn't trust me with it since it has like. Diamonds cut a way diamonds aren't cut anymore. Supposedly I can have it in a few years for myself... Which sucks 'cause I really like that ring & want it now.

5. I went to yoga for the first time in 3 weeks today. I feel so sore x_x But sore in the best way possible. I haven't worked out in ages.

6. I'm gonna try to start working out more again. First off; gotta start doing yoga 3x a week again. Then there's the cardio I'm being forced to do in school. Then maybe throw in some extra sit ups and pushups..I really wanna get in shape :(

7. My chest is sore. It feels like someone punched me right in the center of my ribs. That can't be good..

8. I took a bunch more photos today, so, expect those up soon.

9. I've just been feeling so inspired lately. I think it's the changing seasons and all the time I've been spending on Tumblr.

10. Dinner time! Time to eat something awesome. I think it's some sort of Asian inspired steak thing. It smells delish.

7 A.B.Y

Deja Pak Diner

Coruscant

 

The two men sat at the bar, one impatiently tapping his hands on the table before him; the other staring down into his, now empty, glass.

The man tapping his hands, a bounty hunter by the name of Calon Durand, turned to his partner. He had jet-black hair, slicked back and styled almost as pleasingly as his steadily-growing beard. He wore dark clothing with hints of crimson throughout, or as he liked to call them: the "bloodstains." On his right hand he wore a glove, identical in colour to his outfit. Although he didn't need it for any particular reason, Calon had always found himself to look a whole lot more intimidating if only one of his hands was a covered, a view that was not shared by his partner.

He looked at his partner and ran his hand across his stubble.

 

"You gonna tell me what's up? You've been chewing your tongue ever since we arrived."

 

His partner continued to look into his empty glass. His name was Gerran Crux, and he too was another bounty hunter. Tall and skinny with a mop of tousled brown hair atop his head, Gerran wore a lighter and slightly less imposing armour than his partner. The pair had had many jobs together, however, their services were desired for jobs far greater than petty grudge-killings or assassinations; they specialised in hunting Jedi.

Ever since the Battle of Endor in the last days of the Civil War, Crux and Durand had taken small assignments from what was left of the struggling Empire, hunting the last remaining Jedi whom they saw as a threat to their regime. However, times changed, and so too did people. There were a great number of changes in the galaxy, and both men knew it all too well.

Calon turned to Gerran again.

 

"So you're not talking today?"

 

Gerran pulled his eyes from the glass and looked at his partner.

 

"We need to talk."

 

Calon's eyes widened as he ran his hand across his stubble once again, then Gerran waved his hand at the barman and gestured to his empty glass.

Calon spoke.

 

"What's on your mind?"

 

The barman wandered over and re-filled Gerran's glass with a florescent blue liquid. No sooner had the barman wandered away, Gerran had picked the glass up and thrown it's contents down his throat. He gasped, allowing the intoxicating beverage to make it's way into his body, then turned back to Calon.

 

"I just... I just need a break."

 

He ran his hand across his mouth and sighed.

 

"Recently I've been feeling really, just... Out of it. You know?"

 

Gerran signalled for the barman again, however Calon placed his hand over the glass and pulled it away.

 

"No no, you've had enough."

 

The barman turned away, disgruntled, and Gerran sighed as Calon continued.

 

"Now tell me what's up."

 

Gerran leaned back off his barstool and took a breath. He knew there was no way of hiding his feelings from his partner.

 

"I think I want to quit."

 

Calon scoffed, then shook his head as he pulled his stool closer to Gerran.

 

"Quit? What the hell you wanna do that for?"

 

Gerran sat forwards again and rested his arms on the bar.

 

"Recently, I've been having doubts about what we do."

 

Noticing Calon's growing concern, he turned to his partner and laid a hand on his shoulder.

 

"And don't for one minute think I'm siding with the opposition here, okay? Don't think I'm giving up on what I believe, because I can tell you for a fact, I'm not."

 

He removed his hand and continued.

 

"It's just, we haven't had a job for what? A month? Two? And whenever we do we constantly get screwed around."

 

Calon moved in, aware that his friend was referring to the Empire, whom had used their services for many years.

 

"Look, our contract is under the Empire. They've got a damn lot more to deal with than us two, alright? What, you just expect them to make time for us?"

 

"No! No dammit, I know that. It's just..."

 

"Just what?"

 

"They're losing their influence. You know it, I know it, hell the whole damn galaxy knows it! And I...I don't think the Empire's really something I wanna be a part of anymore."

 

Calon looked around the bar, fearful of any eavesdroppers that might be listening to his partner's rant, then moved in closer to Gerran and dropped his voice to a whisper.

 

"So you really want to just give it all up?"

 

Gerran sighed.

 

"I don't know."

 

"Cause let me tell you, if this guilt thing - and I damn well hope it 'aint - then you're wasting you're time. All the people we've killed, the things we've seen, that's never going away. You've gotta live with that forever my friend, and no amount of retirement fodder you're dreaming up is going to help end that."

 

Gerran said nothing. He knew his friend had a point, he had done unspeakable things in the past. Yet he also knew he was right. The Empire was losing it's influence over the galaxy, and he feared that serving anymore time under their uncertain rule would endanger them further.

Noticing his partner had gone quiet, Calon took a breath, then laid his gloved hand on Gerran's shoulder.

 

"Look, this is a business that pays well, and we've got three, maybe four jobs left until we're pretty much set for life. Then afterwards we can give this whole thing up, both of us, and you can get outta here and do whatever the hell you want. We both can."

 

Gerran looked up and nodded. Despite sometimes loathing his partner's actions, Calon did have a point. All he had to do was endure the job for another year or so, then he could get away.

He could have a family, he thought to himself. And maybe a nice house, somewhere quiet; a rim world maybe. Just as his comforting fantasies seemed to be bringing him back to normality, however, a soft buzzing sound came from a pouch on Calon's belt. Calon reached into the pouch and pulled out the source of the buzzing: a small, battered holoprojector. Pressing a button on it's rim, Calon silenced the buzzing as a light blue projection of an Imperial Officer appeared on the surface of the disc. Calon laid it on the bar as the Officer began to talk.

 

"Durand, Crux, we've got one. A spy has located a Jedi hiding out on Talus."

 

Gerran looked at Calon, who was staring into the flickering hologram.

The Officer continued.

 

"Get yourselves over there as soon as you can. We'll be sending you co-ordinates as we get them."

 

The Officer disappeared, and Calon turned to Gerran.

 

"Well, you heard the man. Let's not hang around."

 

Calon stood and placed an Imperial Credit on the bar, then, ensuring his blaster was secured firmly in it's holster, he exited the bar. Gerran soon followed, however, under his breath as he followed Calon, he muttered to himself:

 

"I have a bad feeling about this."

 

------------------------

 

So, here's my app for my OC Gerran Crux for the Star Wars Story Group! This particular instalment is set 3 years after RotJ, however there will be time jumps throughout. I also don't plan on making this series too long, in fact, it will probably be more of a mini-series, consisting of no more than about 30-40 parts (roughly, I've got an ending in mind and a few other things, but I'm not sure how closely I'll stick to that :P) unlike MM, which I will still be writing as it's my main love. So for now, enjoy!

   

My journey last year has taken me all over the place. The first stop was Markovia, where I met Tara. She's the best, even if she does scare me sometimes. Then it was San Diego, where I learned about the Red from Animal Man, who I consider a mentor to me. Then we came here, to San Francisco, only to go to New York months later when someone framed me for murder.. After that was settled, we came back here for Christmas, before leaving once again. Yeah, I've been busy to say the least. Hasn't given me much time to do the reflecting that I was hoping for, as it's been one fight to the next. But that's the life of a superhero for ya! I figured it was time to come back home. So now, here we are, back in San Francisco.. I'm a little bummed, cause something happened while we were gone. There was this massive battle between some witch boy, and a magician who spoke backwards. I think her name was Zatanna or something?? At least, that's what I heard... I didn't really get all the details, but it sounded like something straight out of a Harry Potter book! I know, awesome, right? Besides innocent people getting hurt, of course... Point is, I'm kicking myself for not being here when it happened. But I guess it really doesn't matter anymore.

 

For months, I've been trying to figure out what that kiss with Tara on Christmas Day meant. Was it just a friendly peck, or did it mean something more? I know how I feel, but how does she feel? Time will only tell, I suppose, assuming I actually get the courage to confess how I feel.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"So Noah's in for a rough week." I mention this almost out of nowhere, trying to prevent an awkward silence.

 

"Why's that?" Tara asks.

 

"He told me that he's not feeling too well. Probably the flu or something. But get this, that's not the rough part. If he's anything like me, which he is, he'll be transforming a lot. Like every time he sneezes..."

 

"Wait what? Every time? You've never told me that."

 

"To be fair, you never asked. But yeah, with me, it was a random animal every time I sneezed. Drove me and my parents nuts when I was younger." I admit.

 

"That would've been fun to watch. Garfield Logan, always the troublemaker." She teases.

 

"Shut up."

 

"You know I'm right!" She taunts me, continuing to push my buttons. Not that I really mind, as it's all in good fun.

 

"Whatever." I reply, shrugging my shoulders as I basically admit defeat.

 

We continue along the sidewalk, until we hit the next intersection.

 

"Stop right there, Beast Boy!" A feminine voice announces from behind me.

 

"We got him dead to rights, babe." Another voice replies with a laugh.

 

Turning around, there's two people. One male, and one female, both of them dressed in purple makeshift outfits. The guy, leaned up against a street post, pistol in his right hand. The girl, on the other hand, is in the middle of the sidewalk. Her gun is slightly raised, in her left hand. In their open hands, is a cybernetic gauntlet, wrapped around the lower part of their arms. Looks almost like something Vic would have. If I had to guess, they're probably bounty hunters?

 

"I hope you've said your goodbyes, cause you don't have much time left. Any last words?" The man asks

 

"You know what? You two look familiar. Wait, don't tell me.. Weren't you guys extras on Space Trek?"

 

To which they both shake their head, and Tara facepalms. Never mind that theory, then..

 

"No? Huh, I could've sworn you were. Just got that generic space pirate look to ya, I guess." Sadly, they don't take the dig lightly. In fact, it's only pissed them off more. The pair of them start firing energy blasts off from their gauntlets at us. Tara is quick to block the blasts with an earth pillar that shoots up from the ground, in front of her. I on the other hand, narrowly duck in time. Literally, I turn into a duck. Sorry, it was too good of an opportunity. I notice Tara laughing at my current form, as she continues to dodge the energy blasts. She starts to encase the hunters in earth, but they're quick to blast the earth apart.

 

"Who are you anyways?" I inquire, changing into human form, before changing into a jay, and flying myself closer to them.

 

"I'm Fear, and he's Loathing. Not that it matters, as you'll be dead soon enough!" The woman cackles, shooting several rounds of her pistol. While mostly everyone has fled by now, there's still a little girl in the middle of the road. One of the bullets is heading directly towards her. My eyes widen in horror.

 

"Terra!" I yell, looking over at the girl, hoping she understands.

 

"On it!" She confirms with a nod, as she flies towards the girl, creating a shield in front just in time. She grabs the girl, and flies her to safety, before returning to the fight at hand.

 

"Yeah!! Soon enough, your head will be mounted on our wall." Loathing roars.

 

"Doubt it" Is all Tara says as she shoots pebble after pebble, almost like a bullet, at the pair of them. Fear is able to jump and roll out-of-the-way in the nick of time. As for Loathing, the pebbles rip through from one side of the gauntlet, to the other, essentially destroying the gauntlet.

 

"I see why he's Loathing... He stinks!" I reply, quickly plugging my nose, as the putrid smell of B.O. wafts through the air. Seconds later, I pull my hand away from my nose. "Like has he heard of a shower? It would do him wonders!" Changing into a wildebeest, I charge after him, pinning his body in between my horns, up against a storefront. I shift once more, this time a bear. Standing up on my hind legs, I swipe at him with my paws.

 

"Oh no, don't hurt his low self esteem, how will he ever recover?" Tara asks sarcastically.

 

I'm stopped by this excruciating pain. Automatically shifting back to human form, I notice the blood on my shoulder. Fear shot me while I was distracted. That's not so great

 

I fall to the ground, and Fear starts to celebrate her small victory. However, it distracts her from the wrath of Terra. Many broken bones, and bruises later, the fight ends. Fear and Loathing never stood a chance.

 

"Gar, stay with me." Tara pleads, as she lowers herself down to the ground

 

"I'm fine.. It hurts, like a lot, but I'll be fine. Tis only a flesh wound" I cough, trying to stay optimistic.

 

"Now's not the time for jokes. You could've died."

 

"We both know with my regenerative powers, this is really nothing. It'll take a lot more than that to stop me."

 

It's then that Tara's phone starts ringing. Her eyes widen, as she notices who's calling.

 

"It's Gregor. I should probably take this."

 

"Yeah, go for it.. I'll be here, sitting on the ground! Taking a much needed breather." I say with a sigh, taking deep breaths.

 

The phone call lasts for about a minute, before she hangs up.

 

"What was that about?" I ask as Tara walks back to me, looking rather distraught as she puts her phone in her pocket.

 

"It's Brion... He's gone missing." She replies, her eyes welling up.

 

"I'm so sorry, Tara... What happened?"

 

"I don't know Gar! All Gregor told me, is that no one has seen him, for several days." She replies, some of it I can barely hear, as she's still crying.

 

"Maybe he just needed some time to himself? I mean that's a possibility right? That he got stressed from his royal duties or something... We don't have to jump to the worst case scenario." I say, placing my hand on her shoulder, trying my best to reassure her.

 

"Unlikely. No matter how stressed he may be, Brion would still keep up appearances." She states, wiping away her tears, while trying to regain her composure.

 

"Okay, maybe not... Why don't we just go back to Markovia, and look for him then?" I suggest, but Tara only shakes her head.

 

"No, that's not happening. Not in your condition..."

 

"What do you mean no? Why not?"

 

"I mean, we aren't going back. I'm going back myself. You just got shot Gar!"

 

"Wait... You can't expect me to let you go alone! I told you I'm fine! It'll take an hour to heal, max. See? It's already healing." I say as the hole in my shoulder starts healing itself.

 

"It's not like I want this! But you know how risky it is for metas in Markovia. I don't want to risk losing you too Gar. This is something I have to do alone."

 

"That's exactly why I need to come with you! If something happens, and I'm not there to help, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I care about you too much."

 

"Damnit Gar, don't make this harder than it already is. Please... Just let it go." She pleads. Here goes nothing.

 

"I wish this was under better circumstances, but there's something I gotta get off my chest. I like you, okay? And not in a huh, let's be chums sort of way. It's more than that. I've been stuck in my head, for weeks, just trying to figure out how to tell you. Definitely wasn't expecting to pour my heart out, but here I am, putting it all out there. That's why it's hard for me, to let you go by yourself. The thought of never seeing you again, scares me. Nothing I say or do will change your mind. I know that, but it's still tough to let it happen. I'd regret it if you left before I told you how I felt." I blurt it out, which initially takes her by surprise, before she starts laughing.

 

"It's about time."

 

"Huh? I pour my heart out, and that's all you have to say?"

 

"Are you really that surprised I knew? For someone whose acted most of his life, you didn't hide it very well. I thought you'd take the hint at Christmas, but even that wasn't enough apparently."

 

"So then what do you say? Will you be the player 2 to my player 1?" I ask, as I can't stop myself from blushing.

 

"You're such a dork sometimes." She laughs, before continuing "I think you meant the player 1 to your player 2, but whatever helps you sleep at night. But yes. The answer is yes, I'll go out with you... However, you're still not coming with me to Markovia." She responds, smirking. "These two.." She points to Fear and Loathing. "They wanted you dead. Sure they failed, but there could be others. We don't know who sent these two, or why they were after you. Looks like you've got more than enough on your plate to deal with. Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can."

 

"One thing, before you go."

 

"Yeah? What's up?"

 

"Be careful, please. And I hope you find Brion."

 

"Always. I hope I can as well." She says with a smile, before we hug one last time.

 

"Owhh, watch the shoulder." I whisper, as I wince in pain

 

"Oh, so now the shoulder hurts, what a coincidence. Rather convenient don't ya think?"

 

"Shut up!" I reply jokingly. "I never said it didn't hurt."

 

We both lean in, holding each other close, as we share our second kiss. Just as magical as it was on Christmas Day. The moment ends seconds later, as we both pull back.

 

"Guess this is goodbye.." I say with a sigh.

 

"Not goodbye. More like, I'll cya later." She remarks, before creating an earth platform from underneath her feet. Up, up, and away she goes.

 

Just another day in the life of being a superhero

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Star Labs

 

Everyone else has left for the day, leaving me, Silas Stone, to burn the midnight oil. Not that I mind. Sometimes it's easier to be alone. It's been that way, ever since my wife Elinore passed away. Late nights, with little to no sleep... Me trying to distract myself with work, hoping that in some way, that'll take the pain away. But unfortunately, it doesn't. The rare times I do get to sleep, I can't help but dream of her, and every time I wake up, that pain rushes back. I'm reminded that I'm alone and I have no one to blame, but myself. I've tried reaching out to Victor several times since the accident, but he still hasn't answered any of my calls. I'm not surprised, given how our last conversation went. I blamed him for what happened. I wasn't thinking straight that night, and as such, I lashed out at Victor. Not my proudest moment by any means. There's no justifying my actions. Once again, I did what I do best.. I pushed my own son away. I had saved, and lost my son in the same night. I just hope he's okay.

 

"Silas, it's time.." A voice calls out from the hallway.

 

"Whose there?" I shout, looking around the room, before watching the door open.

 

"Don't tell me you already forgot the promise you made. That hurts... It's time for you to keep up your end of the bargain." The slow, almost mechanical voice responds, as he enters the room. Dressed in his typical black and grey robe, with his cybernetics mostly hidden underneath said robe. His cold, metallic eyes stare straight into my soul. It's him...

 

"Fixit..." My voice trembles, as I look over at him. " You're not supposed to be here! We were supposed to have more time! "

 

"Things change, Silas. A war is coming, very soon. The Queen fulfilled her end of the deal, by saving your son. Remember what you said that night? You said you'd do anything to save him, correct?"

 

"Yes, but--"

 

"There are no buts... You promised us your son, when the time came. While I admit, it is slightly earlier than expected, the war of the avatars is upon us. And whether you like it or not, your son plays a vital role in our success. You've met the Queen... You know that she, and the Rithm, won't let a newfound Avatar of the Metal go free. So, you will fulfill the promise you made. You will find and convince your son to take his rightful place amongst the other Avatars of the Metal.

 

"And if I don't?"

 

"You're supposed to be smart, Silas... What was gifted, can easily be taken away." With those final words, he left.

 

What am I going to do?

The snow is falling, and the houses nearby are all decorated with various colored lights. It's finally Christmas once again I say to myself, with a smile. A day where I don't have to worry about villains trying to frame or kill me. A day that's all about being with the ones you care about. Since this is Tara's first Christmas, I went all out on the decorations. I wanted to make this as special as I could for her, since she never got to experience Christmas in Markovia. My alarm clock reads 6:00am, which means it's time to get up. Putting a t-shirt and jeans on, with an ugly Christmas sweater over top of my t shirt, I walk out of my room, wiping the sleepies out of my eyes. I make my way down the hall, until I reach Tara's room. The door's already open, which is strange, she doesn't usually sleep with the door open. Anyways, I enter the room, and tip toe to her bedside.

 

"Wakey wakey! It's Christmas! Time to go unwrap our gifts!" I cheer, crouching down. The response is rather defiant. The ground beneath me starts to shake, which almost causes me to lose my footing. Her arm reaches over, punching me square in the jaw.

 

"Owh, that hurt Tara! And can you stop the shaking please?" I say with a groan.

 

"Serves you right for trying to wake me up at-- " She pauses, noticing the time. "Six in the morning. You should know by now I'm not a morning person." She grumbles, still not fully being awake. The rumbling stops moments later, as she puts her hand back under the pillow.

 

"Yeah I know.. But it's Christmas. Kind of a tradition to wake up early and open presents."

 

"Alright alright, I'll get up. But can I at least have a few more minutes?" She sighs, not having the energy to keep putting up a fight.

 

"Huh? Yeah sure, of course! I'll be in the living room." I grin, doing a little dance as I walk out of her room.

 

I make my way to the kitchen, to do a bit of baking, while I wait for her to get up. I'm not as good of a chef as Larry, but I still give it my all! I asked for his cinnamon roll recipe a few weeks back, in preparation for today. Let's hope this works out. As I'm mixing the various ingredients, I can't help but tear up. The realization that this is the first Christmas, since Rita's death.. I mean I guess technically it's the second, but this is the first without Cliff, Larry, and Steve. Nonetheless, it still hurts. It's hard not to hear Tara coming about 20 minutes later, as the sound travels quickly in this apartment.

 

Turning around after putting the first batch of cinnamon rolls in the oven, there she is, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

 

"Gar, what's wrong?" She asks, noticing tears dripping down my face.

 

"Sorry... I honestly shouldn't be crying so much. It's uh just that it's only now sinking in that this is the first Christmas without the Doom Patrol. I mean, last years was hard, having just lost Rita weeks earlier. But we were at least together. But now? Now we're not.. I can barely remember Larry singing different Christmas carols. " I say with a slight chuckle.

 

"I mean, if you really want, I could sing.. Can't guarantee it'll be as good as his, but I'll definitely try! Though, just warning you, the only Christmas song I somewhat know is that Frosty the Snowman one. And that's only because you've played it constantly the past few weeks."

 

"I appreciate the thought, Tara, but it's fine. Things change, and that's okay." I reply, pausing for a few seconds before continuing. "Now let's go open our gifts! I say, changing my slight frown to a grin, trying to change the subject, to keep things light.

 

"If you say so. But just know, that I'm not going anywhere. And if you need someone to talk to about it, I'm always here."

 

First up are the stockings. Grabbing my red and green one that's hanging in front of the fireplace, I start ripping through the wrapping paper, while sitting on the sofa. There are some people that neatly unwrap presents, using a boxcutter, or something, but that's definitely not me. For the most part, it has pretty much all the typical stocking stuffer items. Socks, oranges at the very bottom, and other day-to-day items. However, there was many sweets that I didn't recognize. Markovian sweets that Tara had her brother send over in a small, rectangular tin. She gave me a rough translation of their names too, but some don't have a word for it in English. Giving her a big hug, I say thank you. She opens hers, and smiles. I spent far more than I should've on some of those chocolate bars, but she deserves nothing but the best!

 

"Thanks Gar!" She says, before opening one of the chocolate bars, eating it soon after.

 

"Don't each too much though! Gotta save some room for the cinnamon rolls."

 

"Oh don't worry, I'll have room." She says with a smirk, before looking over at the tree in the corner of the room. "So I'm guessing that one's mine?" She jokes, pointing to a smaller box near the back of the tree, wrapped in black and gold wrapping paper, in comparison to the behemoth present sitting at the front. There are only the two gifts, one for each of us, because we agreed not to go too overboard.

 

There's another box, after Tara unwraps the initial layer of wrapping paper. Her eyes light up, as she pulls the present out. A pair of black aviator goggles, with yellow lenses.

 

"I know it's not much, but I saw you eying those up at the store, so I knew I had to get them for you. You aren't the biggest fan of jewelry, so I thought this was a good alternative. That, and I'm sure it'll look really badass with your costume! Helps protect your identity too, which is yet another plus!"

 

"I love it. Thanks, yet again Gar."

 

"You're welcome! Oh, and that's not all! Check the bottom of the box." I reveal in my most dramatic voice.

 

She looks at me a little confused, before looking back at the box, and grabbing it. It takes her a few seconds before she finds it, and pulls out a pair of tickets.

 

"You didn't..." She replies, shaking her head in disbelief. Her eyes, lighting up with joy once again, as she gives off this beaming smile

 

"I totally did! Two VIP passes for Songbirds' first show, in Star City. Front row seats, and a meet and greet with the band afterwards." I smirk, giving her a thumbs up.

 

"This is so sick! Wait, how'd you even get these?"

 

"Really Tara? Well, let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was a former actor after all. With that, comes perks."

 

"Well however you got them, thank you, thank you thank you! We're gonna have so much fun!" She shrieks, giving me a big hug, before regaining her composure. "Phew, sorry about that, just a little excited. Now I feel bad, my gift's not as great as this." She says with a slight frown.

 

"I'm sure it's fantastic!" I respond, doing my best to reassure her.

 

Now it's my turn to unwrap this behemoth. It's actually quite a bit heavier than I was expecting, so I end up unwrapping it pretty close to where it stood in front of the tree. Tara sits directly behind me and my jaw literally drops, as I unwrap my present.

 

"A computer with an AMD Athlon 64 3500+ processor?! No freaking way!"

 

"Is that good?" She jokes.

 

"Good? It's literally the best gaming specs you can get right now. And you were saying your gift wasn't good.. Way to make me feel bad.. This probably costed you a fortune. Really should've gotten you more." I say pausing, before noticing one other gift hidden behind it. This one's quite a bit smaller, and it's wrapped in green wrapping paper.

 

"Oh yeah, that one's for you too."

 

"Stop.. You got me something else, on top of this?"

 

"I did, yeah. Kind of figured you needed something to keep your mind off things, especially everything that's happened this past year. Besides, what good is a gaming computer, without a game to play?"

 

Unwrapping the gift wrap in record time, my jaw drops once again. World of Warcraft it reads, with a dwarf in the lower left corner, and a night elf in the center. Yeah, I've done my research.

 

"I've wanted to play this for weeks, but my current rig couldn't run it! Where'd you even get these anyway? I would've thought it would sell out like hotcakes."

 

"Oh I know you did... Well, after a long search, I found a store over in Jump City carrying both. Coincidentally, it was being robbed as I got there. I had every intention of paying full price for both, but after taking down the robbers, the store owner gave a sizable discount." She replies with a smirk.

 

"Just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse about how little I got you, you find a way to prove me wrong."

 

"Awh, don't be like that. Remember what you told me? That this gift exchange wasn't meant to be a competition... Besides, I think what you got me is just perfect. And really, that's the only thing that should matter, right? I couldn't have asked for a better first Christmas."

 

"When you're right, you're right. Well, thank you once again, princess Tara Markov. You're the best!" I cheer, nodding my head. "Now we just have to get you a computer, and a copy of the game, so we can play together!"

 

"Me playing that game? Good luck with that.. I'd probably be dead weight anyways." She replies with a frown.

 

"Turn that frown upside down! Don't make me bring out the puppy dog eyes!" I say, before shifting into a dog, widening my eyes, trying to be as adorable as possible. "You know you can't resist!"

 

"Nope! You do this every time! I'm not gonna fall for it!" She says, trying to convince herself as she closes her eyes. It's during this time I shift back into human form.

 

"If you say so. I'll leave it be for now. But one day, I will convince you to join my soon to be Tauren Druid in the world of Azeroth! Of that I-" I'm unable to finish my sentence, as Tara leans forward and kisses me.. Most likely to shut me up. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. I can't deny that I've crushed on Tara pretty hard since we met. So this is pretty much like a dream come true. I was half tempted to slap myself to make sure that this was actually happening. I can feel myself getting flustered, as she pulls away moments later.

 

"Merry Christmas, Beast Boy." She says with a coy smile.

 

"And a Merry Christmas to you too Tara." Is all I manage to say in response, somehow not fumbling words as I'm definitely feeling quite flustered right now, my face beet red. "Oh would you look at the time. I should probably go check on the cinnamon rolls." I say, trying to not make any eye contact with her.

 

"Saved by the bell." Tara chuckles.

 

"Awh man, I forgot to make the soy sausages.. I knew I was forgetting something..."

 

"As long as it's not your tofu. That stuffs disgusting." Tara replies, pretending to gag afterwards.

 

"That's not funny Tara!! You take that back right now!" I yell back in a playful tone, but she continues to laugh, which causes me to smile.

 

It's been over a year since Rita was taken away from this world, so while this Christmas has been rather rough, not spending it with the rest of the Doom Patrol, I feel surprisingly happy. Happy to spend this time with the especially badass princess of Markovia herself Tara Markov, and hopeful for the future that lies ahead. I can safely say this is a Christmas I'll never forget.

On the way to the fairgrounds, we compare notes on Red Dart and everything else that's happened recently. I mention Tempest, but she doesn't seem to know much more about them than I do. Nothing on who hired my sister to kill me either. Damnit. Guess I'll just have to get some answers myself soon enough.

 

We finally arrive at the fairgrounds, with pretty bird parking the bike near the entrance. I get off, and draw my bow, following behind as she leads the way. It isn't hard to figure out where they are, considering the big top is the only well-lit area of the fairgrounds. Even the ferris wheel's lights are turned off.

 

It doesn't take long after entering the big top to notice Tommy's tied to a pole in the center of the ring. Thea notices the two of us walk in, and grins. I have my bow trained on her.

 

"Let him go." I say in a deepened tone, after nocking and firing an arrow right above her head. The arrowhead embeds itself in the stands behind her.

 

"Look at who finally decided to show up! Oh, and he came with quite the backup too. The Black Canary ! Yeah, I know who you are. Guess I should've realized this would happen sooner or later. Ollie has a thing for blondes you know." She teases, still pacing around the ring, without a care in the world.

 

"Let him go, now!" I repeat, my bow still trained on her.

 

"She's going to regret that." Canary mutters, as she starts to run towards Thea, unleashing her Canary Cry. Thea gets sent flying, eventually crashing into the highest row in the stands.

 

"Jeez, I was going to let him go. I've already told him everything he needed to know. Gave him a newfound sense of clarity." She says in between groans, as she pulls herself out of the debris. I'm able to shoot the rope that's tying Tommy's hands together rather easily, which frees him from the pole. I run towards Tommy, as Canary's dodging the barrage of darts being shot at her. Canary's kicking Thea's ass with ease, using a combination of fighting styles to combat what seems like an endless wave of darts. This, plus her Canary Cry. Man, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Thea manages to get a few lucky hits off, punching Canary right in the jaw.

 

"Oliver!?" Is all Tommy says, and I just nod in response, seeing it rather pointless to try to convince him otherwise.

 

"Yeah, Tommy, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I thought it was better this way, to protect you. Obviously, you ended up in this situation anyway. I'll explain everything, but later. Right now, you gotta get out of here. Please."

 

"Sure Oliver.." He mutters, still clearly angry at me for lying to him all this time. Can't really blame the guy... Anyways, he starts running towards the exit. Moments later, he collapses. I look over, and sure enough, one of Thea's darts is in Tommy's back.

 

"Curare's a bitch." She sneers, coughing up blood, as she narrowly avoids Canary's leg sweep.

 

"Canary!!" I yell. Canary glances over, and sees Tommy on the ground, dart stuck in his back.

 

"On it! She's not killing anyone else tonight. You better kick her ass." She lets loose one more Canary Cry, sending Thea back into the stands, before rushing over, and scooping Tommy up into her arms.

 

"Please save him." I whisper, before turning to face Thea, who is somehow still smiling.

 

"Looks like it's just me and you now, brother !"

 

"You didn't have to do that! He was innocent ! Had absolutely nothing to do with any of this. You've been given so many chances, to turn this around. To be a better person, Thea. But you've completely wasted it. I really wanted to believe there was good in you.. I didn't want to believe my sister could do such cruel things to another human being. First killing dad, going after me, and then Tommy. Who even hired you to kill me anyway?"

 

" Half-sister!" She glares, before continuing "Heroic speeches won't fix this broken city, Oliver. At this point, who hired me doesn't even really matter. There's so much more going on than you realize. Tempest is just one part of that circle. Though, you won't live long enough to see the full truth." Her voice seethes in anger, as she unloads dart after dart, with me just barely avoiding them. I shoot arrow after arrow at her, but she's able to duck and weave through them, closing the gap between us with every step. Her gauntlets make a clicking sound. Phew, she's out.. . Though this doesn't dissuade her at all. Drawing a knife from a side holster, she lunges towards me, going for my shoulder. She's slower than the last time we fought. Exhausted from already fighting Canary probably. As such, she's somewhat predictable in her movements. I'm able to block her from stabbing me with my bow, while raising the palm of my right hand to her wrist of the left arm holding the knife to disarm her. As soon as the knife lands on the ground, I kick it away from us. Unfortunately focusing on that leads to Thea landing a few punches on my face. Which, I won't lie, did hurt more than I was expecting. Not that I'll admit it to anyone else if they ask.

 

With each hit she lands, I hit three times as much. Using the variety of throws, blocks, strikes, and whatever else I learned while on the island to give myself the upper hand. She goes to sweep my legs, but I'm able to slam my bow upwards, sweeping her stationary leg from under her. This causes her to fall backwards, crashing up against the pole. After one more hit with the bow, she's out like a light. Backing up, I draw a bola arrow, and fire, tying her to the pole. I give an anonymous call to the police, giving them this location, and leaving. Of course, since Canary's taken the bike, I have to walk.

 

I made a promise that I would find the one responsible for the death of my father. And I did. Red Dart also known as Thea King-Queen, my half-sister, who is responsible for so many deaths, will face justice for her crimes. But I can't stop thinking about the fact I might lose Tommy in the process. He's on the brink of death, and only the pretty bird can save him now.

Ever since I put those thieves away a week ago, things have been pretty quiet in Leavenworth in regards to criminal activity. I haven't seen much of my sister recently, as she joined the cross-country team. When she's not at practice, she's hanging out with her new friends. Surprisingly enough, I've spent a good majority of my time studying. I know, I know! It's a shock to me as well. As I'm walking up the steps to school, I notice Amos Aimes standing there, trying to look all suave. He's one of Tamara's new friends from the cross-country team. But there's something off about that guy. Feels like he's one of those guys from the wrong side of the tracks. All of the sudden, as Amos get's off his motorcycle, some guy goes over and grabs him by his shirt.

 

"Amos.. My man.. Where's my money? We had a deal.."

 

"You said I had a week to get you the money Bryce.. Last I checked, there's still 4 days left in that time span."

 

"Things change.. I want the money now. Now either you give me the money, or I'm gonna kick your ass."

 

I walk over to where they are. There's sweat dripping down Amos' face, as Bryce holds him up. Not sure where Bryce is packing all the muscle, as he's a pretty thin guy.

 

"Let him go Bryce."

 

"This is none of your business Danvers. Now go run along before you regret it."

 

"Let him go." My voice starts to rise in anger, trying to intimidate Bryce.

 

"You're going to regret this.." He drops Amos, and walks over to me. He raises his fist, and punches with all his might at my face.

 

He starts screaming in pain, as his hand flops down.

 

"FU--UUUCK!! THAT HURTS DUDE! ITS LIKE PUNCHING A BRICK WALL."

 

"C'mon, let's go see the nurse." A girl says as she smiles at Bryce.

 

"Fine.. This really wasn't worth my breath anyway.." Bryce spits as he leaves with the girl towards the nurses office.

 

"I had that under control."

 

"It sure looked like you did.. Really in control there.. Next time you may want to think about the company you keep. Anyways, we've got school to attend. So bye." With that, I walk up the steps, and into the school. Making my way through the crowded hallways, trying to get to my locker.

 

"Morning Chris!" I hear as Simon waves at me up ahead.

 

"Oh hey Simon. What have you been up to recently?"

 

"Not much honestly. As you probably heard, I was stuck at home sick for the last few days. Had these weird hives, but the big thing was the puking. What a fun thing that is." His eyes roll at his last remark.

 

"So why are you even at school? You should be at home, getting better.."

 

"See that's the thing.. I'm perfectly fine now.. I don't get it either, but when I woke up this morning, I was all better. Though it probably helps that I took lots of different things. Tylenol, Gravol, even Gatorade for the electrolytes, and a bunch of other stuff. My mother kind of went overboard on the medicine eh?"

 

"Hey, if it works, it works!"

 

"Well it wasn't all so bad. It gave me a chance to binge some good tv shows, and play some video games."

 

"Any recommendations?"

 

"Searchers is pretty interesting. You know that guy that created the 100 tv series? Well he's the show runner for this show as well. Think Supernatural, but instead of just being the United States in their car, it's a completely bigger scope. Traveling the world by air and sea chasing different monsters, trying to find the 12 Keystones. But it's not the usual vampires and werewolf type of thing either. Wow, I did a terrible job of explaining.. My bad.. Anyway, you should definitely give it a shot!"

 

"I got the jist of it Simon. It's all good. How long of a series is it?"

 

"It only has 12 episodes. It's better that way though, as there's less filler, and a higher budget for each episode."

 

"Guess I'll have to give it a go sometime. What do you have first?"

 

"Media Arts. It's a fun class, but I wish one of you guys were in the class with me."

 

"Tycho and Shane didn't take it?"

 

"Nah. Tycho isn't really interested in the subject, and Shane just didn't have room on his schedule for it."

 

"Ahh I see."

 

"What about you?"

 

"Oh, just History." My cheeks redden a bit,

 

"Just History.. Really? Nothing else to add?"

 

"No.. Should there be?"

 

"Ah, forget about it. Anyway, have fun in History class! It's 5 minutes til class starts." I go to pull out my phone, and when I look up, Simon's out of sight. I grab my textbooks, and head to class. It's hard concentrating in History since Alicia is also in History. We exchange little notes back and forth, and a couple of times, I laugh from an inside joke that she wrote on it. Before I know it, class is over, and I wait for Alicia right outside the door to the classroom. Simon runs to me, phone in hand.

 

"You gotta check this out. Crazy woman calling out the supers." Watching the video, the camera is focused on this woman dressed in black and purple. Beside her are these things. They look to be shadows solidified and shaped into monsters.

 

"This all could've been avoided you know. But noo, you two had to interfere. Because of you, my beloved is gone. Now, I'll make you feel true despair. I will destroy everything you hold dear. I will figure out who you love and care about. I will destroy this city you've grown fond of protecting. I promise you that once this is over, you will wish I had killed you. They will suffer for the sins of your past. This is all for him. From shadows, we will rise, and they will feel my wrath." The woman in black says, with such hatred in her voice.

 

The video screen goes to black.

 

"Creepy huh?"

 

"That's one way of putting it.." With that I dash through the hallways, to my locker. I better stop this woman before all hell breaks loose

 

------------

Important thing to know going forward, is that I'll be pulling a rebirth Wonder Woman. So odd numbered issues will be dealing with Superboy, while even numbered issues will be dealing with Supergirl. This will happen for the rest of this volume. As it is, there aren't too many issues left.

My bearings are true again.

 

The terror of the long dark storm has passed.

 

Anyone who's stood at the helm of any vessel gripping the wheel while facing the torment of the sea will tell you of the comfort that they found in the warm red glow of the compass.

 

As long as that compass points north and as long as it glows that comforting red glow things aren't that bad.

 

As long as the compass glows there's a chance you'll make it through the storm.

 

I know where I'm headed because I know where I've been and now I know where I am.

 

I've only got two more sets of rapids to negotiate ahead of me.

 

Big, treacherous and twisted, perilous and rocky... this could get very ugly.

 

If it isn't the end, I swear it will be a new beginning.

 

Though the waves and waters around me at this moment are calm I can hear the churning ahead growing louder every moment that I'm carried closer to it.

 

Yeah... they're tens... but you do what you gotta do right?

 

Exhileration blends with fear. Adrenaline flows and I wonder which will be more likely to keep me alive.

 

Two more sets of rapids and I'm home free!

 

I've got to make those rapids.

 

No man can fight the power of the water. It can't be done. It's a force that's just too big and too powerful. You don't fight it. You gotta go with it. You gotta let it take you... you gotta let yourself go.

 

The only thing you can do is believe... believe that you'll come out on the other side.

 

All I gotta do is keep my head above the water... stay off the rocks and make it out the other side.

 

And if it doesn't go well... they'll have to pry my cold drowned fingers off of the dream that I will never let go.

 

After the Storm by Mumford & Sons

Cliff lies sprawled out on the living room sofa, cloaked in darkness. The faint light of the TV casts a hazy glow over his face as he sits, unmoving, watching an old tape of Niles’ he’d found in a box labelled ‘VHS – FOR ATTIC.’ The noise of the box fills the room as Rita appears and stands, hands on hips, in the doorway and sighs.

 

“That dastardly Multi-Man -- he’s got us this time!”

 

“This lead-lined vat he’s trapped us in is filling with quick-dry cement!”

 

“We’d better work a way out of this -- fast! Or we’ll be gone before you can say ‘bricks and mortar’!”

 

“We’re surely doomed!”

 

Will our fantastical foursome make it out alive? Or will our intrepid heroes meet a quick-drying end? Find out in the next exciting instalment of… Challengers, of the Un-

 

Rita: Urgh! We can’t keep doing this!

 

Rita strides across the room and turns off the TV. Cliff makes little effort to move, eyes still fixed on the now blank reflection of the screen.

 

Cliff: Doin’ what?

 

Rita: This! Just moping around all day! You haven’t gotten up off that sofa in days, Larry, who by the way still won’t speak to me, has barely left his room and we’re no closer to finding out where in God’s name Niles has gone!

 

Cliff doesn’t move.

 

Rita: And just when exactly do you plan on clearing up that mess in the garden? It’s been there almost a week! I’m half convinced some of those bushes will never grow back!

 

Cliff: I’ll do it later.

 

She throws her arms to her sides angrily.

 

Rita: Argh! Just because Niles is gone doesn’t mean we have to just sit around and give up!

 

Cliff: Just chill out, man.

 

Rita paces on the spot.

 

Rita: Chill out? Chill out? Oh of course…

 

She stops pacing and turns to Cliff. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

 

Rita: You know Cliff, before you were switched on, I used to go down to the lab every day and watch you – being built. It gave me something to do, after all. Something to take my mind off the crumbling wreck that was my life. I’d sit there and watch as Niles toiled away at you day and night and I’d think to myself, what a remarkable thing you were.

 

Cliff sits up and turns his head slowly to face her.

 

Cliff: Really?

 

Rita: Yes, really. An actual robot, being built before my own eyes! I could hardly believe it. But then again, my world view had just been drastically altered, so I did find my disbelief significantly easier to suspend. I couldn’t wait to see what became of this remarkable project. I oh so longed for the day when you were finally activated and I could speak to an actual, real life robot. And do you know what, Cliff?

 

Cliff: What?

 

Rita: You’re really starting to make me wish I hadn’t.

 

It’s like someone just shot a puppy. They both stare blankly at each other. Cliff tries to speak but doesn’t know what to say as Rita folds her arms and slumps down into her chair.

 

Rita: Look at us. What would Niles say if he could see us now?

 

Cliff: I dunno. Maybe… Rita? Are you aware Cliff was watchin’ that shit? Turn it back on, would you?

 

Rita: Not helpful.

 

She scowls.

 

Rita: Between you acting like some college dropout and Larry not speaking to me, I’m half convinced I’m going completely insane.

 

Cliff: Maybe you are.

 

Rita: Cliff! Please! You’re not-

 

She pauses abruptly as an unusual sound fills the air, a sound rarely heard under this roof. It’s distant yet jovial, and before long Rita realises what it is – the doorbell.

 

Rita: …helping.

 

They look at each other for a moment, Cliff tilting his head slightly, before the sound occurs again. Neither of them move. From the hallway comes another sound, heavier this time and more urgent. Footsteps. Cliff rises to his feet as the doorbell goes for a third time.

 

Cliff: Probably Ricardo. Must’ve forgotten somethin’. C’mon.

 

He heads out of the lounge and moves into the hallway, peering nervously towards the front door. Rita follows suit, taking up a position far enough behind Cliff to ensure he won’t notice her hiding behind him. They both clock Larry at the window, head covered by a curtain draped over him as he stares out into the night.

 

Cliff: Larry? You gonna answer that?

 

He emerges from the curtain and beckons them forwards silently. As he does, the doorbell rings once more. Cliff and Rita approach apprehensively and take up a position next to Larry at the window.

 

Larry: Guys, look…

 

Cliff pulls open another curtain as Rita stands and folds her arms.

 

Rita: Oh, so we’re talking again are we?

 

Larry: Not now, Rita. Just look!

 

She pulls back her own section of curtain and looks out onto the porch.

 

Rita: At what?

 

Larry: Exactly.

 

Someone walks over her grave. If her hairs could stand on end, they would. The once cheerful sound of the doorbell now fills the air one more time with an ominous malice. Rita steps back.

 

Rita: But there’s no one there…

 

And then comes another sound, so close and unexpected it sends them back from the windows with an almost electric jolt. The three of them frantically scan the area as a disembodied voice fills the air and begins to sing:

 

“Yesterday upon the stair,

I met a man who wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there again today,

I wish, I wish he’d go away…”

 

No one moves an inch as the voice turns into a sinister cackle.

 

“When I came home last night at three,

The man was waiting there for me.

But when I looked around the hall…”

 

They feel something behind them – a rush of displaced air; a sense of disorientation. They all turn around as the voice, now ominously familiar, concludes-

 

Nobody: I couldn’t see him there at all…

 

Without hesitation, Cliff lunges forwards and takes a swing. Mister Nobody howls as he grabs Cliff’s arm, mid-flight, and twists. There’s a clatter of metal as Cliff drops to the ground with a yelp.

 

Cliff: You sunovabitch!

 

Nobody grins and waggles a finger.

 

Nobody: Now now, Cliff. That wasn’t the welcome I was expecting. Is that any way to treat your guest?

 

Cliff: One day you asshole, one day…

 

He looks to Larry and Rita. Neither of them move.

 

Nobody: You guys’ve got it! Calm and collected, very polite. Like cute little lambs!

 

He clears his throat and takes a moment to compose himself.

 

Nobody: Larry. Rita. It’s good to see you again. Feels like it’s been forever…

 

Larry: What do you want?

 

Nobody: Oh, Larry. Why so negative, man? Hehe. Can one not just visit his friends without wanting something?

 

Rita: You’re not our friend.

 

Nobody: You wound me.

 

Cliff gets to his feet.

 

Cliff: You’ve got precisely five seconds to get the hell outta here before-

 

Nobody: Before what, Cliff? You take another robot pot shot and get your shiny ass handed to you again, hmm? What’s the view like from down there?

 

Cliff: Fuck you.

 

Nobody: My my, you’ve got even more spirit than old misery-guts here! Where was that when you were looking for Daddy Caulder, huh?

 

No one says a thing.

 

Nobody: That’s right, I know what you’ve been up to. And I’ve gotta say, I’m disappointed.

 

Larry takes a step closer.

 

Larry: I’ll ask you one more time. What the hell do you want with us? Haven’t you done enough damage?

 

Nobody: Okay, okay. Fine! Jeez, I’ll cut to the chase. Clearly it’s past your bedtimes.

 

He moves in closer so only Larry can hear.

 

Nobody: So angsty, Larry. I’m liking it.

 

Nobody adjusts himself accordingly and clears his throat.

 

Nobody: I’ve been watching you three simpletons meaninglessly meander about for days now, weeks even! Honestly, who even knows at this point, I’ve lost the damn plot! Frankly I’m bored stiff, and your pal Niles isn’t bringing me much joy either. I’ve had more enjoyable tooth extractions.

 

Larry: Where did you take him?

 

Annoyance grimaces across Nobody’s face and he holds up a hand.

 

Nobody: Uh uh uh, just a minute. It’s clear you’re getting absolutely nowhere here. So, I’d like to offer you a deal.

 

The trio shoot each other as much of a glance as they can manage without trying to look too interested.

 

Nobody: I can send you away from this…

 

He looks around the hallway, unimpressed.

 

Nobody: …charming abode you call home and send you to the White Space, where Caulder is currently having the time of his silly little life as my prisoner. Survive the White Space, maintain your sanity, and I’ll let you keep that contemptuous old grouch and bring him home. But fail…

 

He goes quiet and shakes his head gravely.

 

Rita: What? What happens if we fail?

 

Nobody: That’s just the thing. Nobody knows!

 

He gives them a wink and Rita’s face sours.

 

Nobody: But won’t it be fun finding out?

 

Silence. No one says a word, but they don’t need to. They know what each other’s thinking. Nobody notices their unease and smirks. Cliff looks down to Rita, who in turn looks over to Larry. He inhales and licks his dry lips underneath his bandages. Rita whispers.

 

Rita: As much as I hate to say it, he’s right. We’re getting nowhere just sitting here.

 

The others are silent.

 

Rita: But if we do this, Larry – if. We do it together. No more of this solo-adventure shtick.

 

Larry pauses and remembers the words scrawled across the whiteboard in his room.

 

Larry: We do it together.

 

Rita flashes a brief smile as Cliff slumps over and sighs.

 

Cliff: Yeah, I was worried you’d say that.

 

They look to him and Rita raises an eyebrow.

 

Rita: Cliff?

 

Cliff: Yeah yeah, I’m comin’. Just don’t expect me to be pleased about it.

 

Nobody grins excitedly.

 

Nobody: So…?

 

Larry grits his teeth.

 

Larry: We accept your offer.

 

Nobody shoots him a wink and claps his hands.

 

Nobody: Now that’s more like it! Perhaps you aren’t as useless as you make out. Good luck, friends. You’ll need it. Even I don’t know what you’ll see.

 

He shifts his weight and shakes out his arms with a flourish. Cliff, Rita and Larry look at each other nervously.

 

Nobody: Oh, and if you happen to run into Brain and that great stinking oaf on your travels, do tell them I say hi, won’t you?

 

Cliff: So how the hell are we-

 

Nobody interrupts with a clap of his hands. There is a rush of displaced air and then they’re gone, leaving Nobody alone in the hallway. He chuckles to himself and disappears.

  

(Taris, Separatist Palace, moments later)

 

Things have become absolutely insane. Within one rotation, Kydan, Calena and the other soldiers of the Republic have been secretly working under the command of Lieutenant Higer to fight on Taris. Now, just moments ago, Higer was actually a disguised Jedi Master named Tirun, the Sword Master. The Sith General, Gualo Rolinth, somehow knew his secret identity quickly, yet, none of them knew how. But that didn't change a thing.

 

On the other side of the chambers, Master Tirun continues to duel against Gualo in a one-on-one single handed lightsaber duel as each one of them skillfully block each other's attacks and strikes.

 

Meanwhile, Kydan and Calena are left to face Gualo's personal droid guards, Commando Droids, as they each face each other with single handed Vibroblades. Kydan and Calena had to admit, the droids were good with sword to sword combat. But that didn't mean they were any better then they were.

 

Calena had just dodged a quick blow to the waist from the droid's sword as she swung her her own blade, colliding them both with a metallic sound from both of them.

 

Calena- *Groans* "These droids don't quit!"

 

Swiftly, Kydan ducks from a quick attack to the chest from his opponent as he collides his own blade with his enemies' sword, pushing their blades against each other forcefully.

 

Kydan- "I know! But we gotta' end this quickly! Higer--I mean Master Tirun will need our help soon! He's no match for Gualo!"

 

Meanwhile, Tirun and Gualo's duel still continues. Tirun swings another blow at Gualo that he had just tried to do earlier. But, sadly, Gualo was too quick and was able to block his attack easily.

 

Gualo- "I can sense your anger building, Master Jedi. You should surrender your life to the Separatist and join the Sith."

Tirun- "I would rather die than to serve the dark side!"

 

Smiling wickedly, Gualo pulls his blade back, catching Tirun off balance and giving Gualo the chance to force him back with Force Push.

 

Gualo- "That can be arranged..."

 

Cackling menacingly, Gualo starts to walk towards Tirun, watching him struggle to get up. Tirun knew that he has wasted too much of his Force and physical energy earlier on the front lines earlier. He had no chance of dodging one Gualo's next attacks.

 

Calena, who was able to finally defeat her droid opponent, turns her attention to Tirun and Gualo. Wide eyed, she saw that Tirun was on the ground struggling to stand back up. With that, Gualo was walking towards him, readying his blade. She quickly shouts to Kydan.

 

Calena- "Kydan, Turin needs help!"

 

Slicing his opponent in half, he looked over to what Calena was shouting about. His eyes widening, he knew that the situation was dire. He knew that Tirun was no match against Gualo alone. For anyone who was trained under "Nedoura", they were in for a beat-down. Most of the time, the one who fights one of Nedoura's Sith Acolytes, they were doomed to fail. He knew right away that he needed to act quickly.

 

Gualo, who was watching Master Tirun still struggling to stand back up, chuckles in amusement.

 

Gualo- "Well, this was too easy. It seems that you weren't a formidable opponent after all, Jedi. Oh well, I guess. Farwell...Master Turin."

 

Gualo then raised his blade slowly, aiming the blade right at Tirun's back. Gualo was now ready to end the Jedi Master's life once and for all. As he just swings his blade at Tirun...

 

Gualo's blade was quickly intercepted by Kydan's Vibroblade, which was inches away from Tirun's body. Gualo was a bit surprised about Kydan's, or Kedone's, quick abilities. He could sense something strange in him, but he was not quite sure what it was.

 

Gualo- "Brave of you, mercenary. Saving a Jedi's life is rather odd for the likes of you. Someone must be paying you quite a lot to let this Jedi Master live."

Kydan- "Hate to say it, but I'm no mercenary. And saving someone's life is my goal...and this is one life your not taking today."

 

At that moment, Gualo pushes his blade to the side along with Kydan's sword, slamming them down to the ground with the sabers slashing the floor slightly from the tips.

 

Gualo- "Well...if your willing to save this Jedi's life, then maybe I'll just take your in exchange!"

 

Quickly, Gualo swings his saber at Kydan right in the chest. But the saber was again intercepted by his sword, blocking the attack just barely. With a quick opening, Kydan kicks Gualo in the chest, sending him flying backwards towards the center of the chamber room.

 

While Kydan and Gualo dueled each other, Calena took the time and chance to help Master Tirun up. Groaning, but yet not badly hurt, he gives Calena a reassured smile.

 

Tirun- "My thanks, Calena..."

Calena- You can thank me later Master Tirun. But right now, Kyd--Kedone can really use our help at the moment."

 

Calena, who lets go of Tirun as he was able to regain his strength and composure, charges towards Gualo and Kydan. Turin watched with a blank expression, trying to configure what Calena had just said. 'Kyd?' He never heard of the name before, but the first letters sounded familiar. Snapping himself out of his conscious, Turin reactivates his saber and runs towards the three.

 

Gualo- "Hahaha! Three against one, eh? This will be too easy!"

 

As quick as they could, Kydan, Calena and Tirun all charge at Gualo at the same time, preparing to strike him down. However, they all missed him as he jumps and flips over them as he lands right behind them.

 

Quickly, Gualo aims directly at Kydan who was still trying to regain his balance still. he takes his blade and swings it at his back, giving off an evil grin, thinking to himself that he was victorious.

 

Kydan turns his head, seeing Gualo going for a strike against his back. With no time to react, Kydan quickly drops to the ground, letting Gualo's blade to pass over him.

 

Gualo- "What!?"

 

As Gualo's blade passes over him, Kydan uses his skills to flip himself backwards, landing in front of Gualo with his Vibroblade grasped tightly in his hand.

 

Gualo- "Too slow!"

 

At that moment, Gualo uses Force Push to send Kydan flying backwards back, causing him to hit the wall and fall to the ground.

 

Turning his head to the side, Gualo sees Calena charging right at him, her vibroblade high in the air, with Tirun's saber at the ready, preparing to strike him down with a massive blow.

 

The first to attack Gualo was Calena as she slashes her blade at Gualo, only to be blocked by his saber. However, being so focused just on Calena, he didn't realize that Tirun did not charge up to him.

 

Silently and swiftly, Turin sneaks behind him, preparing to stab Gualo in the back with his own saber.

 

Regaining his composure, Kydan stands up and watches to see what was about to happen. But at that moment, Kydan's eyes widen at the scene. The way that Gualo was standing, the way he had his opponents at...he very well knew what was about to happen. And fear quickly took control of him.

 

Kydan- "Turin, don't!"

 

But before his words could even reach Turin in time, Gualo had already expected the outcome as he breaks off their stance, jumping in the air and landing right behind Turin. Turin was both caught off guard and very surprised.

 

Before Turin could have any time to react to the situation, Gualo had swung his saber, slicing Turin's back as Calena and Kydan watched the outcome.

 

Kydan- "NOOO!"

 

Turin's eyes were wide open, his jaw half opened and his body frozen into place. The pain he felt from the saber was unbearable, yet he couldn't even move from the reaction. His lightsaber suddenly deactivated, dropping to the ground with his own body followed.

 

Gualo stared at Turin's corpse, very pleased with his work. His wicked smile grew wider and wider.

 

Gualo- "I told you I would kill you, Master Turin."

 

Suddenly, the main door's open as Egile, Throte and the remaining soldiers of the 772nd Battalion swarm into the chambers with their blasters lifted up.

 

Throte- "Higer! Were here to he--"

 

But Throte stopped speaking. His eyes widen at what he saw with a gasp noise after. Lying on the ground on his stomach was Higer, or Master Turin, almost dead and breathing heavily with a splash of blood surrounding his bod,y in which, was lying in.

 

Egile- "It...can't be..."

Throte- "Higer...he's..."

Gualo- "Hahaha! Yes! He's dead! ! And now, the rest of you will be next to fall with him!"

 

Throte narrowed his eyes at Gualo through his helmet, rage and anger building up inside him. The sight of his commanding officer lying on the ground just barely alive was enough to make him lose his temper. Gualo would pay for his sin.

 

Throte- "You'll pay for that Gualo!"

 

Without another word, not even a signal, Throte, Egile and the other troopers all raised their guns once again and started blazing hell-fire on Gualo, who was having a bit of trouble blocking all of the incoming blaster shots.

 

With no other option, Gualo quickly rushed towards the glass window and used the Force to break it, creating a gaped hole in the middle. He jumps and leaps over the broken glass, right out to the docking bay platform as Throte, Egile and the Republic soldiers followed after him.

 

Quickly, Kydan rushes over to Turin's body, pulling him out of the pool of blood and into his lap. He didn't want another Jedi friend to die on him again. Not like how he lost everyone on Geonosis.

 

Kydan- "Turin!"

Turin- "...Ked...Kedone..."

 

Kydan's eyes were getting teary. Here he was, holding on to Master Turin, who was just barely alive because of Gualo. He knew this feeling too well. He can still remember the incident with Rilicia, watching her drifting away, becoming one with the Force while holding her hand for the very last time. Just like back then, he was doing the same for Turin.

 

Kydan- "Why.... Why Turin!? You knew that Gualo was gonna strike you!"

Turin- "Yes...I did."

Kydan- "And for what!? What were you trying to accomplish?!"

Turin- "...Because...I wanted to protect you all..."

 

Kydan looked at him in surprise. Because Turin wanted to protect them all? That didn't make any sense to him. If he wanted to protect them, why would he let Gualo strike him down?

 

Turin- "I...know who you are. Your Coneros' apprentice...aren't you, Padawan Kydan?"

 

Kydan didn't even hesitate, but that didn't mean he was a bit surprise still. Not many Jedi in the Order knew him too well. But there were a few that knew him very well, and one of them was Turin himself. In fact, Turin was the one who helped construct Kydan's lightsaber years ago.

 

Kydan- "How... did you know?"

Turin- *Chuckles* "Who do you think helped you build your lightsaber?...No, I could...sense the power within you. Not...many Jedi has that much...which led to realize...that it was you."

Kydan- "If you knew who I was, then why did you let me part of this?"

Turin- "...Because...you were the only one that I...could truly trust among everyone else..."

Kydan- "..."

 

Turin starts to cough up a bit of blood from his mouth before he could continue. They both knew that Turin didn't have much time left.

 

Turin- "That's why...Kydan...that you must promise...promise me... that you will protect everyone in this war...as many as...you can...no matter the cost..."

 

Sad but yet, slightly confused, Kydan nodded in agreement to Turin's promise.

 

Kydan- "...I promise, Master. I will do my best to save everyone I possibly can."

Turin- "Heh...I always knew that you...had a good heart......your father would have been...so proud of you, my boy..."

 

With one last smile on his face, his eyes begin to close as his body goes limb, now lifeless. He was now one with Force.

 

Kydan just stared at Turin's lifeless body, sad and angry all at once. Turin was like family to him at the Temple, and now, losing him too...was enough.

 

Calena, who was watching the entire thing, slowly approaches Kydan from behind. She could tell what he was thinking next.

 

Calena- "Kydan..."

 

Laying Turin's corpse on the ground gently, he reaches over to his friend's lightsaber, gazing at it for just a brief moment when he stands up and faces towards the broken glass. He knew that he had to kill Gualo, for both the good of the Republic, the Jedi Order...and for Turin himself.

 

Not even looking over his shoulder, he speaks up to Calena.

 

Kydan- "...I know Gualo's tactics. I've dealt with those kind of moves before for a long time. Stay close to me and follow my lead closely."

Calena- "...Understood."

_________________________

 

Yes...we know this was very short and not really exciting, but...here it is lol!

 

So yeah...another friend of the main character's have once again past away. We know this is the fourth time he had lost something, counting the two Clone Squads from Geonosis, his old friend and new love, Rilicia, and now one of his teachers, Master Tirun. I never said his life would be a good one, let alone a happy one. His story can be sad, but you have to also consider that he is fighting a war, and those around him are likely to die at some point. However, who's to know. Perhaps later on in life, he'll have a great life ahead of him. I guess time will really tell...

 

That will do it for now, so thank you all as always fro your support, and as always, have a fan-tucking-tastic day/night! See ya' in the next one.

 

- Director K.W.

=The Batcave: After the Sandstorm=

 

A month had passed since the Battle of Nanda Parbat. A month since the stand-off between Batman and the Misfits.

A month since Drury Walker murdered Ra's Al Ghul.

 

As Bruce walked down the stone steps towards the conference table, a lot of scrambled thoughts passed through his head; Memories, regrets...

 

As always, the cold logician in him swatted these doubts away and, as always, a dozen more insecurities rose up in their place. He was at an impasse: Dare he lift Walker's exile, or keep him banished in Keystone under West's supervision? That, was the question. The question that continued to torment him even now. Over this past month, he had devised several arguments, both for and against, and each and every one of these debates had ended in a stalemate.

 

They, were here to break that stalemate.

 

"Is this everyone?" Bruce asked the assembly. Sat around a stone table were a group of seven young men and women; Bruce's trusted confidantes from different backgrounds, and with different methods and ideals. Most of which, were trained by him personally to hone their natural talents.

He couldn't go to the League with this, they wouldn't understand the importance of this decision. Of what it meant to him.

 

"What? Your unfair and partial jury?" the blonde woman on the far left asked, a cheeky smile on her face, lowering her purple hood.

 

"Stephanie..." Bruce inhaled, as he sat down at the head of the table.

 

"Kate and Luke are at Wayne Enterprises, and JP and Duke are on that Kobra case, but everyone who could be here, is here," the red-headed woman in thin spectacles said, bringing the rest of the group up to speed.

 

"Thank you, Barbara. I'm glad someone is taking this seriously," Bruce reprimanded Stephanie.

 

"It's Killer Moth," Steph shrugged. "And I meant what I said by the way. She's biased; she's dating his kid," Steph explained as she nudged the dark-haired girl on her right, Cass, playfully.

 

"Not important," Cass brushed her off. "Tim kissed Kitten," she stated.

 

"Cass!" Tim, Steph's boyfriend, spat out his tea mortified. "Sorry, Alfred," he apologised to the elder man approaching the table, napkin already in hand.

 

The rest of the family was silent for a moment. And then, sat across from Tim, Jason Todd erupted into juvenile laughter. "No way!" he cackled. Tim's face had turned a deep scarlet. "What was it like?! Nah, don't tell me, I got this: do the words 'Strawberry Lipgloss' ring a bell?"

 

"Does it?" Steph raised an eyebrow.

 

"How could you-?" Tim gasped at Cass.

 

"She brought up Axel," she replied, a bright smile on her face. "Said it wasn't important: Barbara had a crush on Mr Walker."

 

"What-?" Dick, sat on Barbara's right, had perked up now.

 

"No, I did not," Babs tutted dismissively.

 

"Lies!" Steph giggled. "I saw you texting Dinah. 'His voice was smooth. Like the principal when you've been bad.'"

 

"So, should we be worried? If people are reading your messages, we should be in a heap of trouble," Tim argued.

 

"Look, yes, that happened, I said that," Babs confessed. "But look, he was my first."

 

"What?!" Dick repeated, his voice an octave higher this time.

 

"Her first supervillain, dumbass," Jason guessed.

 

"Can we focus?" Bruce murmured.

 

"Right, right..." Jason apologised, wiping the smile off his face. "Personally? I don't blame him."

 

"Shocker," Dick spoke, masking it behind a series of coughs.

 

Jason glared at him, but continued. "Look, Ra's was a genocidal maniac; he killed hundreds, and his playing matchmaker with the old man brought us this little hellspawn," he gestured at the young boy sat on Bruce's left.

 

"My grandfather made many mistakes," Damian conceded. "Least of which, was resurrecting you."

 

"Touché," Jason smirked.

 

"That said, I agree with Todd. To an extent," he added. "Grandfather, was not perfect-"

 

"Understatement of the year!" Steph yelled.

 

"But to die by the hand of a pirate and his son-in-law is a disgrace," he finished.

 

"But he's not just the in-law, is he?" Tim argued. "This guy helped take down Cobb, Crane, infiltrated Arkham City... Heck, he ran for mayor and won."

 

"Which, let's be real, isn't that hard. Penguin's getting good press," Dick pointed out.

 

"Noted. But what I'm saying is, underestimating him is what got Ra's killed in the first place."

 

"It's not just Ra's," Babs chimed in. "It's the attack on GCPD, and helping Bane too. He broke into the Cave, Jason. And planted Kuttler's-"

 

"Don't you dare say 'bug.'"

 

"Barbara's right. If Bane's Phantom Drive had worked, Earth would have lost the Justice League, the Titans, all of us, and left the planet at the Society's mercy," Bruce spoke up.

 

"Look, I don't get why you're so surprised. This is what happens, what always happens when you let a supervillain join the team... No offense, Spider," Jason waved at the man at the farthest end of the table.

 

"That, wasn't Basil's fault," Cass stated defensively.

 

"Besides, we let you join, Jay," Dick smiled, deliberately steering the conversation away from Karlo.

 

"And we've been paying for it ever since," Damian tutted.

 

Bruce tilted his head up to face Needham. "Spider, what do you think?"

 

Needham glared at the rest of the group, and swallowed. "I think that, if you only brought me in to talk shit about Walker behind his back, then I don't belong here."

 

Bruce nodded slowly. "Those in favour of lifting Walker's exile?" he asked.

 

Needham raised his hand, followed by Cass, and surprisingly, Jason. Alfred, also raised his hand in Walker's defense.

 

"Those opposed?"

 

Damian's hand shot up first, followed by Tim, Steph and more hesitantly, Dick and Barbara.

 

Bruce looked around the table solemnly. "Then it's settled. For now, Walker's exile remains in effect."

 

"Right," Tim nodded along to the verdict, then rose from the table. "If we're done here, I'm going up to the pantry. I was on patrol all night and I haven't grabbed breakfast yet," Tim rose from the table.

 

"Hey, grab me a cola while you're up there, 'Robbie Poo,'" Steph teased, tapping him on the shoulder.

 

"That's not- Dick was Robbie Poo..." Tim sighed as he walked off.

 

"But I never kissed her!" Dick smirked, as the rest of the group broke away from the table and walked off in separate directions.

 

"Man, I'm never living this down," Tim muttered under his breath, as he dragged himself upstairs.

 

While everyone else departed, Bruce and Needham remained sat at the table. "They're good kids," Bruce broke the tension.

 

"Uh-huh."

 

Needham stood up and walked off in the direction of his parked motorbike.

 

=Now: The Gotham Royal: Floor 19=

 

Ted Carson.

 

Joseph Rigger would be the first to admit he was pretty squeamish. He had a ton of phobias, plenty he wouldn't disclose to his fellow Misfits as, admittedly, a good deal of them were supernatural, and probably fictional in nature: Zombies, Vampires, Ghosts. That sort of thing.

 

But Carson? He scared him. Like, really scared him. He was tenacious, and driven, and utterly ruthless. Had Suit not given his life for him; for all of them; Joey would be dead. Impaled on that flaming sword Carson carried around.

 

Joey paused as he knelt down to tie his shoelaces. Come to think of it, Black Hand had been a zombie, hadn't he? And he'd played D&D with that Monk guy, Tepes, who had seemed oddly interested in his neck... That wasn't the point, Joey realised that of course, but maybe he ought to consider bringing a scarf to their next game night.

As he finished tying his laces, he stood back up and was immediately met with a pink cloud that spoke with the voice of Manga Khan.

 

"Have you given any more thought to my business proposal?" it's voice rattled.

 

Joey, jumped back in fright. "Holycrapitsaghostthatsjustwhatweneed!" he panicked, grabbing the rest of the room's attention.

 

"It's not a ghost!" L-Ron strutted towards him, waving his spindly arms in the air. "It is Lord Manga!" he explained.

 

"Yeah! Who died!" Joey countered, his body shivering.

 

"It's... It was a whole thing, I don't really want to get into it," Flannegan shrugged. "So, you really going into business with that pink fart?" he asked.

 

~-~

  

Gar bowed his head, kicking the ground as he shuffled over to Jenna's side. "It's Carson," he announced glumly, confirming what Jenna had already suspected.

 

Franco's eyes fluttered open at this, glancing back and forth between Jenna and Gar.

His grip on Jenna's hand tightened.

 

"Gar, please. You don't have to fight him-" Jenna urged him, pulling her hand away from Franco's side, unaware he was now stirring.

 

"Nah," Gar sighed, glancing over at Drury, as he placed his hand against her cheek. "We both know that I do" he said softly.

 

"No. Not this time. Not alone," Jenna decided, getting up off her knees, and presenting him her purse full of hardware appliances.

 

Gar nudged the purse away from his face. "You know I can't ask you to do that," he informed Jenna, as he adjusted the nozzle of his flamethrower.

 

"Then don't ask," Jenna pleaded. "Let me help you."

 

"Jelly Bean!" Franco spluttered in protest, sitting up. Rosso intervened, placing a hand on his chest to restrain him. Franco batted him away, rising to his feet. "Jenna, listen to me!"

 

Jenna spun around, her face red with irritation she stuck her finger in his face. "No, Davey, you listen. All night I've been oogled at, and all night you've smiled it off, and ignored me. And now, we're in danger. Real danger. And so far, Gar and his friends are the only people who've done anything about it. So I'm going with them. You can stay here if you like, but I'm gonna stop this," she stated, swinging the strap of her purse around her shoulder.

 

Franco's jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose. "You go with them, and you'll never be more than a henchwoman for petty criminals."

 

"What's so bad about that?" she frowned.

 

~-~

 

Drury looked to Gaige for affirmation; given by a stiff nod, and typed a number into his mobile. As Drury put the phone to his ear, waiting for the recipient to answer, his mind wandered.

 

"You seem like a decent bloke. A bit feminine but whatever; my daughter likes you. A lot," Gaige admitted to Drury, the closest thing he ever got to a blessing for marrying his daughter.

 

Course, back then, all Drury wanted to do was impress Gaige. To be part of the "in" crowd. To feel accepted. But that was before Santa Prisca changed his perspective, and before the mob and their schemes brought a dozen assassins to his doorstep.

 

"Before you, supervillainy was an art form, it was something you turned to out of necessity, perhaps for the thrill of it, after being shunned by society, spat on by the masses. When you became a supervillain you became something to be feared: Edward Nashton, Oswald Cobblepot, Basil Karlo, may he rest in peace. These are the names that give children nightmares and yet: they had class, they garnered respect from the inmates of Blackgate Prison. Until you came along. Once you put it in crooks heads that anyone could be ‘super’, they all started crawling out of the woodwork. The Joker will always be feared. The Eraser never will be. C-Listers proved supervillains could be laughed at, could be hurt, could be killed. And people stopped being scared. They reopened Arkham just to house you morons! So the ante had to be upped, in order to regain that fear. Victor Zsasz keeps a count of victims all over his body, hundreds of tallies, hundreds of kills! Dollmaker made a patchwork of body parts from still breathing Arkham Guards! Roman Sionis butchered Catwoman’s family and made her sister eat her husband’s eyes! His fucking eyes! You did this!" Two-Face was snarling at Drury; a small partition and the former's twisted devotion to a "fair trial" were the only things keeping him from tearing Walker apart.

 

Drury didn't like to talk about that day in Santa Prisca. Zodiac as his defendant was bad enough, as was sharing a room with the Mad Hatter and his tea-soaked breath, but beyond that, it was the day he truly understood what it meant to be a supervillain. The risks. The sacrifices. Sure, he'd thought about it plenty, seen things on the job that turned him pale, but this was when he learned the whole truth. That what happened with Lightning Bug wasn't a fluke. It wasn't an outlier. To these people; Penguin, Two-Face, Joker and the rest, it was the norm. And that was when he realised, he wanted nothing to do with that. With them.

 

"Drury. Look at me. You're not a failure, I married you, didn't I? I don't regret it one bit.

This time things didn't work out. That's ok, this team just didn't gel. You just need to find a group that does," Miranda was reassuring Drury, in the wake of yet another scheme blowing up in his face.

 

No. Not some 'scheme.' Gar's then-girlfriend Volcana had murdered his uncle and his crew on the orders of the Secret Society. All because they were protecting Getaway Genius. The same Getaway Genius who later abandoned his kids and his friends when the Society's cloudburst bomb detonated. Drury always found a way of protecting the wrong people. And getting the good ones killed over it.

 

"Is everyone else brainless? Am I the only one who gets it? When you hear a noise down a dark corridor, when you see something peculiar outside, you don't go running towards it, understand? Not like in some B-Rated Horror Film. You do the reasonable thing and walk off in the opposite direction!" The Getaway Genius was yelling at Drury; Floyd Lawton's laser sight pointing directly at Reynolds' sweating forehead.

 

In Drury's eye, Reynolds was the worst type of criminal. The type who ran away when things got bad. The type that wouldn't keep their word. The type who'd throw anyone else into the flames to save their own skin.

 

It wasn't until his conversation with Joey that it clicked for him. That's how Jenna saw him. The dangerous lunatic who was dragging Gar down with him.

 

"Walker. I'm telling you right now, it's not your fault."

 

"Is this what it's like? Being you? Watching people get hurt, with no way of stopping it?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And that doesn't bother you?"

 

"Of course it bothers me! You know full well what I've lost! But I'm telling you here, now, whatever happened between you and Ted Carson... whatever you did to him, it was the Arkham Moth who chose this path of vengeance... not you," Bruce told Drury, watching him hopelessly try to resuscitate the girl now known to be Ted Carson's daughter.

 

Even then, Drury knew. Using the last of the Lazarus Water on her would be a death sentence if the League of Assassins ever found out about it. But he didn't care. He'd hoped... He wasn't sure what he hoped at the time. That maybe by reviving Carson's daughter, he'd be atoning for his past mistakes? That maybe that would break the cycle of death and violence between his family and Carson's? Wouldn't that have been nice?

 

"If there's anything you ever need, I'll be there," Len promised, holding in his hand the money Knyazev had turned down. The money Drury was now offering him to rebuild his bar.

 

'But where was Len now?' Drury wondered. He had heard what Len had done to Jumbo, and though he shed no tears for Carson's step-brother, he knew Ted would be seeking some sort of retribution. He hoped that maybe Len was just in hiding until the heat died down; that's what he'd been telling the rest of the Misfits. But deep down, he didn't believe it himself.

 

"I shouldn't have expected anything else from you. The boy who never grew up," Hugo Strange sneered, as he held Drury against the floor and prepared a syringe full of poison.

 

Strange had been right all along. Just thinking that made Drury want to puke, but it was true. This life wasn't sustainable. This life wasn't healthy. Look at what it cost him, what it was still costing him: He hadn't seen his kids in weeks!

 

No.

 

'No more dress up,' Drury decided. No more make-pretend. It was time to grow up. It was time to face Carson. It was time to break the damn cycl-

 

"The person you're calling is unable to take your call. Please leave your message after the tone:"

 

"Figures..." Drury rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's me. I know we haven't, uh, talked since... Well, y'know. I know I said a buncha things I shouldn't have; I hit you, stole your stuff, ran away like I'm a coward, which I'm not, I hope you know that. But I've been... told by a couple of friends that I'm sorta a mess right now. I mostly agree with that. It's something I'm gonna need to work on a bit. If you see this message- scratch that, I know you'll see this message; you see everything, don't you? Heh... If you see this message, know that I'm sorry. And that maybe, if you're sorry too, we could meet up somewhere? Royal would do! Bring a nice suit."

 

"It's done?" Gaige was leaning against the wall, listening in.

 

"It's done," Drury confirmed, immediately dropping the hyperactive persona.

He lowered his phone, looking out towards Gar, struck by the way he was looking at Jenna: The way his eyes twinkled, how the edges of his mouth crinkled to form a smile. The way he nodded along to every word she spoke.

And at that moment, it hit Drury just how much he cared for her and her him. And he smiled, thinking back to the days when he felt that way. When he could feel that way... He put his hand to his cheek and noted the damp patch under his eyes.

 

"Look after them," he ordered Gaige, gesturing in their direction.

 

"Course," his father in-law nodded respectfully.

 

"The kids are at Dave Wist's place on the city limits. Simon should've made it over there by now... I shoulda visited him in the hospital... I visited Gar in the hospital."

 

"I'll take care of it," Gaige promised, a sense of finality to his words.

 

"I know you will." Drury wiped his eyes, tightened his shoulder holster for the last time, and proceeded to walk off down the hallway.

 

"Where are you going?" a voice called after him.

 

Drury turned around. Staring at him, his lip petted, was Joey. Gar and Jenna were staring at them now too, as was Flannegan.

 

"I... Like you said, someone needs to watch the King," Drury lied.

 

"You're gonna face him, aren't you?" Joey asked, his mouth open in disbelief.

 

"I gotta, Joe," Drury said hoarsely.

 

"Why?" he answered back, a sullen look on his face.

 

Drury exhaled. "Because otherwise, what was the point?"

 

"Of the road trip?"

 

"Of all of it!" Drury yelled suddenly. "I mean it, what have I actually done?"

 

"You saved the city."

 

"Lester Butchinsky saved the city. I just watched."

 

Joey took a step forward. "You saved me."

 

...

 

"You gave me something to believe in. To hold onto. And that was the Misfits. That's why you founded it, right? And I know right now, not everyone's happy with you, and they all have their reasons. But for me? Being able to fight side by side with you guys, to be treated as an equal? I've never felt happier."

 

Drury felt his cheek getting damp again. "Give me your comm, Joe."

 

"No."

 

"Give me your comm. Please," Drury said wearily.

 

"I can't..."

 

"I ran Carson down that night, you understand? And I hid his body. Then, I left my Charaxes serum lying about so the Moth; that's unrelated; could use it on him.

After that, I recruited a sorcerer to banish him when I wasn't man enough to deal with him myself. After that, I stole Krill's belt.

I ignored Julian's cries for help at every turn.

I got Gar ran over. I got Blake stabbed and Ten maimed and Sharpe thrown out a window. And I got Miranda..." Drury's throat swelled up. He wasn't just speaking to Joey now, he was speaking to all of them and they all knew it.

"Please. Let me do this," he offered. "I've got to do this."

 

"It's like what Jenna said. Not alone, you don't," Gar stepped forward.

 

"Not alone," Joey repeated, holding the comms device out to Drury, his fist kept closed until Walker accepted his terms.

 

"I won't be," Drury nodded his head slowly as he stretched his arm out. "I won't be."

 

Satisfied, Joey placed the comms unit in Drury's palm.

 

Drury put it to his mouth, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke into it. "Chuck," he called out.

 

"I couldn't stop him, Drury- I tried, really. But he's coming. He's coming for you and I didn't stop him-"

 

"It's... It's alright, Chuck," Drury answered.

 

"No, it's not, it's-"

 

Drury turned the device off and turned to Flannegan.

 

"Otis," Drury spoke. "I need you to round up the troops; Blake, Chuck, Kuttler and Ten all need patching up. Sharpe, Needham and Mayo might need help too. Make sure they all get the proper care."

 

His eyes narrowed. "You kidding me? You want me to run a paramedic service? You've got your arch nemesis on the warpath, after your head, remember? I'm your guy for this," he reminded him.

 

"Do what he says," Gaige warned.

 

Flannegan was about to argue but swallowed his pride. "Sure, doc," he grumbled, his nose twitching as he stormed off.

 

They were silent for a moment, and then Joey breathed in a sigh of relief. "You weren't gonna just abandon us, right?" he wondered.

 

Drury smiled faintly. "Abandon-? Never."

 

"Good," a voice echoed from the opposite end of the hallway. "That makes it easy for me."

 

"You can all die together."

 

Ted Carson stood at the end of the hallway, his firesword ignited, thick smoke hissing and spitting from the vents lining his crimson battlesuit. He put one knee forward, and took a fighting stance.

 

Drury unfastened his cocoon gun, his finger wrapped around the trigger. His other hand, reached down to the holstered pistol strapped to his waist.

 

Gaige, slowly and fearlessly, unhooked a curtain rod from the closest window, and held it like a spear.

 

Jenna, reached into her purse, and pulled out a spinning powerdrill.

 

Joey, stepped in front of Drury, his katana raised, sweat dripping down his brow.

 

"Done letting empty costumes take the fall for you, huh? Good for you, kid."

 

Franco, covered his face with his hands, hopeful that Carson wouldn't recognise him.

 

"Oh, and nice suit, by the way. You can wear it to your funeral," Carson barked at Drury.

 

"Oooh, nice banter!" Drury retorted. "You can use it at-"

 

Drury swallowed. "Ah, forget it."

Veronica, Summer and Ken

 

[Continuation of the F2K, Vol. 3 finale; "Flash Forward"]

 

K. --- Who else knows about this?

 

S. --- I don't... No one. I don't know.

 

K. --- What was she thinking? [he lets out an angry grunt]

 

S. --- We were partying really hard last night after the showcase. Barbie and The B.Girlz were drinking like fish ...BTW, I don't know how that girl does it. She doesn't even have a hangover.

 

K. --- Summer! This is serious!

 

S. --- She didn't seem like it was that bid a deal. But looking back, I guess that's because... maybe she was a little out of it.

 

K. --- We were never going to tell anyone about Chelsea. Ever! I can't deal with this! I... I... I've got to get on set. Sum' you have to keep this quiet. I can't have this blowing up right now.

 

S. --- I swear I haven't told anyone... and I won't!

 

K. --- Good! Keep it that way! I gotta go. I've got to get on set...

 

- - - - -

 

V. --- Forget that Sassy tea... This is an exclusive so good, it should be fattening!

 

_____

 

>>> For this scene I put Summer back in her complete look from "Flash Forward". I even straighted her hair from the curls she's been sporting lately. I wanted it to look as if I shot both scenes at the same time, even though I didn't. Ken's actually not wearing the same thing he was from the first shot. Before, he was wearing a tux without the jacket.

...just a little behind the scenes insight ;-)

"So.. That's what happened to her..." I say, as tears still roll down my cheek.

 

"Yeah.." Jessica muses, closing the journal before placing it on her nightstand.

 

"I feel like there are better ways to cope with what happened, than going straight to drugs. What is this stuff anyway?"

 

"I tried Andy, I tried!" Jess replies, raising her voice slightly. "But no amount of music, or therapy stopped the nightmares. I know you're just trying to help, but unless you've been in the places I have these last two years, you have nooo idea.."

 

"Okay ookay, I'm sorry. Obviously I can't force you to stop, cause at the end of the day, that's your own choice to make, but can you at least give me some details as to what this new signature drug is? Since I'll probably run into this at somepoint while ya know, being a superhero." I say, trying to stay quiet so her parents can't overhear.

 

"Uh, sure.." Jessica hesitantly says, eyeing the yellow powdery substance.. "It's called Euphoria. Pretty self-explanatory with a name like that. Upon taking it, you feel happy, and free, like nothing in the world can take you down."

 

"Any side effects?"

 

"Nope! At least, none that I've seen anyway.

 

"Hmm, okay.."

 

"Also, before you ask, there's a website." She says, pulling out her laptop from underneath her bed. After logging into her computer, it takes about a minute or so before she pulls the website up on the browser. Never thought I'd see the day when supervillains have their own websites set up for distributing their own product. Almost like they want to get caught or something..

 

"So this Euphorium guy that keeps getting mentioned, have you met with him?"

 

"No. All the dealings I've ever done have been through middlemen. Sorry."

 

"Figured as much. Nah, it's all good. You've been a big help already. Thanks.."

 

"Probably going to regret telling you in a minute or two, but yea, no worries. Anyways, as much fun as reliving this rollercoaster of emotions has been, I should probably hang out with my sister. Haven't been there as much I should be."

 

"Sister?" Jessica has a sister? I don't remember that..

 

"My sister.. Danika.. You really don't remember her either?"

 

"What??! Ohhh, Danika, right.. Sorry, for a second there it felt like my mind went completely blank." Huh, that's strange.. Not sure how I forgot something like that. Not even out of high school, and I'm forgetting simple things. Definitely not a good sign.

 

"Weird.. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, alright?"

 

"Yeah, sure thing!" I say with a smile, giving her a hug before I leave her room through the window. Thankfully her neighbourhood doesn't have too many security cameras, so it should be fine to fly for a bit.. I still get that adrenaline rush every time I fly. There's nothing cooler than being able to soar above the city skyline. Of course, my stomach starts grumbling.. Guess I should get something to eat then. I make my way to the nearest 7-11, landing in a nearby alleyway. I arrive at the 7-11 minutes later. Opening the door, I make a beeline to the slushie station, where of course I get the biggest size possible. Probably going to get a brain freeze, but it's totally worth it. Wait, there's a sour patch kids watermelon flavor now?! I'm soo down! After mixing a few other flavors in, I walk towards the register. There's no lineup either, sweet.

 

"Is that everything for you today?" The cashier asks unenthusiastically. I'm about to nod, but then I remember that I should probably get something to eat.

 

"Could I also get two slices of that buffalo chicken pizza please?" He nods, walking over to the food warmer display, grabbing two slices, before putting them on a plate, and placing it on a counter.

 

"That'll be five fifty-seven." He says, before pressing a few buttons. I nod, pulling out my debit card, and tapping it on the screen. I'm able to gobble one piece down before I'm even out the door. I barely even get two sips of my slushie before my hand starts to glow. Awwh man!

 

---------------------------

Elsewhere (POV Switch)

 

There's the money.. Just gotta get to that truck. Six goons on each side of the deal, piece of cake. Jumping off the ledge, I land right into the middle of the two groups,

 

"Hi there." I say with a smirk, and a wave, as both sides start shooting at me, and the opposite side. No surprises here, they're all terrible shots, so I'm able to roll out-of-the-way relatively easily, using a nearby car as cover.

 

" You set us up! " One of the thugs yells, as the firefight starts.

 

"So, I'll take this as a no to just letting me have the money then? Fine, we'll do this the hard way.." With the snap of my fingers, my alters appear. They're big enough of a distraction for me to get close to the goons dressed in purple. Grabbing the pistol from one of them, I shoot another, right in the knee. Almost the start of a bad meme right there. Anyways, moving on! One of the stray bullets from the other side nicks me in the shoulder, but thanks to the upgrades Leon put in recently, it's not a big deal. Though it does ruin the paint job, ugh. My alters use each other as springboards, to propel them towards the goons. Lots of grunts, cracks, and screams later, my alters are done with that side, as I'm still stuck dodging these wimpy punches this guy's throwing. It's like he's never been in a fight before, or something. The palm of my left hand hits his jaw, as my right hits him right in the ribcage. My alters are about to move in to assist, when I shake my head.

 

"You all had your fun.. Let me have mine." And even though they all think they're not the alternates, they shockingly obey. Grabbing a smoke pellet from my belt, I smash it down in front of me. Always so careless with their bullets when they can't see.. Sure enough, the goons end up doing half the work for me. Two left.. Leaning against the top of the car door, I laugh, as I backhand the goon, sending him flying right towards one of my alters. He knocks the goon out pretty quickly, even though I told them not to interfere. Ugh. Only one now. He unloads his entire clip on one of my alters. Well, bye bye alter number 2-5-8-3-7, it was nice knowing ya.. While he's reloading, I'm able to kick him into a nearby street lamp. Me and my army of alters surround him, and he puts his hands up into the air.

 

"Please! I surrender! Don't kill me." He screams. I shrug, as I look around at my alters. Most of them just shake their head.

 

"You idiot. If you'd just let me go and take the money, we wouldn't have had to do this the hard way.. Just think of this as a teachable moment." Ah yes, surrendering.. Even though he's reaching for a gun now. I shoot him right in the shoulder, and upon collapsing onto the ground I search him for the keys, and sure enough, it's in his jacket pocket. Walking towards the truck, that's loaded with money, I can't help but smile.

 

"You actually let him live? Weak.." One of the other alters says, as I get in the driver's side of the truck.

 

"Want to call 9-1-1? Be my guest! I've gotta pay for this super suit somehow, so I'm cashing in!" As we pull out of the lot, I notice a speck of orange following us through the rearview mirror. Looks like it's gonna be a long night after all.

Now traveling with a rough-around-the-edges Iakaru, Nathan and Ozz make the quick jump from Targonn to Garel, the last lead that Nathan has on Mayla's trail.

 

Ozz’s way off-planet, it turned out, was a con he was pulling on an old customs droid he found in a back alley and kept in a closet on his ship. While thrown out, it hadn’t been disconnected from the network, which meant, like its counterparts, it still had the authority to grant passage off-planet. However, unlike most customs processing droids, it was nearly blind and was missing a couple judgement processors. It was extremely willing to help anyone it saw, even ‘Captain’ Ozzamandes Sabaran, and ‘Inspector’ Bookard. Nathan felt a little bad as the droid gave them a jaunty salute and validated their transport token, but it just seemed pleased to still be doing its job.

 

The token got them through, and Nathan and Ozz finally relaxed as they passed through the security blockade. After giving Ozz the coordinates where he wanted to go, Nathan looked around the cockpit of Ozz’s ship, the Lucky Star, appreciating the few spots that didn’t have stains.

 

“Where’d you get your ship? Isn’t this an old Separatist Shuttle?” he asked.

 

Ozz raised a finger. “Aha! No, it ain’t. You know the famed, graceful curves of the Sheathipede shuttle?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Note the lack of ‘em on this beauty. This is a knock off from the secondary market. This, nerd, is a Carrapede Shuttle! Built by Schar Enginnering, ruggedized, of course…and cheap as hell. But hey, she’s still pre-Empire! That means no transponder.”

 

“Pre-Spaceflight too, from the look of it.”

 

“Well, safety nerd, why don’t you go ahead and tell me where I could use some handrails, okay? Would that make you feel safer?” he cooed.

 

“It might,” Nathan popped back.

 

The shapes of buttes stood dark against the waning violet sunset. Domed spires ringed with warmly glowing windows sat clustered together on the badlands, crowning the sprawl of Garel's capital city.

 

Like a lot of Outer Rim planets, Garel came out of the war the worse for wear. Just after the battle of Endor, the Empire carpet bombed the capital city's spaceport, leaving the planet with a few new craters to dent its already pockmarked surface. What was left wasn't much more than a few landing pads and a trading outpost. The trading outpost they were looking for.

   

Targonn's Capital City, downtown, at the Balasti Cafe. Two weeks ago.

 

Nathan leaned forward, eyes bright. "How'd you end up on Targonn, anyway?"

 

"Well," she'd smiled. "It was on my way. Garel didn't have what I was looking for." She paused a moment. Nathan watched her eyes flick up and away as she recalled something. "But I did like the Quartermaster. A Mon Calamari in the spaceport, crusty but...likeable, you know what I mean? Like he'd get a job done, even if he moaned and complained while doing it."

 

Nathan had grinned. "Yeah," he nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. That description fits...everyone I work with."

 

She had laughed, tossing her head. Something in his stomach twitched, and a nervous grin broke across his face. He'd made her laugh. Stang, what a sound.

   

Mayla had come through here before moving onto Targonn. It was the best lead Nathan had.

He and Ozz left the Lucky Star accompanied by the hiss of its exhaust vents. Nathan was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice a man loitering nearby, watching them closely. The two would-be bounty hunters passed right on by, heading for the only building on the landing pad.

 

The small trading post seemed to hold a monopoly on the right to service the landing pad. Crates and spare parts and who knows what else littered the dusty lavender ground outside.

 

There was a chair atop the trading post from which the Quartermaster kept lookout. Mostly for competitors, and profitable opportunities.

 

Nathan and Ozz approached the small building cautiously. Maybe one of the hunks of machinery leading to the door was a motion sensor, because once they'd gotten within two meters, they heard the whooshing of a door on the second floor. The bulbous head of a crusty Mon Calimari appeared to assess whether they were a threat or a sale.

 

"Hello!" Nathan called. "You're the trader, right?"

 

The Calamari muttered something under its breath before responding. "Something you need?" he barked.

 

"My partner and I could use some supplies."

 

Nathan noticed Ozz give him a skeptical look, probably over the usage of 'partner' to describe their relationship. Nathan shrugged; it got the point across.

 

"Oh, good, good..." said the Calamari, his manner softening considerably. He had seemed ready to blast them, now it was just obvious he wished they'd never shown up. "I'll open the door, why don't you two come on in and look around?"

 

The shop was as cluttered as the grounds outside: all sorts of bits and bobs covered the shelves. Surplus and second-hand buys that the trader (who's named was Aarjab) had never bothered to organize.

 

"What's your name, stranger?" Aarjab asked, while they poked through piles of merchandise.

 

Nathan hesitated. There was a chance he was wanted on Targonn, and that could've reached Garel already. "Janus. Janus...Buttes."

 

"No, your real name."

 

Nathan's heart skipped. "...what?"

 

"Hah, I just say that to everyone! You should see the look on your face! Always throws people off! You looked real familiar though."

 

Nathan grumbled over this unnecessary added stress until he approached the counter with a jacket and harness, and a few other items more suited to adventuring than his safety inspector uniform.

 

"This gonna be it?" asked the Mon Calamari, beginning to check the items and decide what he wanted to sell each of them for.

 

"Actually, there's one other thing…" Nathan said sheepishly. "A girl might have come through here recently, someone I'm looking for. Young woman, brown hair, cheerful smile."

 

The Mon Calamari eyed him up suspiciously.

 

"What's this about? Some sort of…local trouble, is it?"

 

"No, not at all. I...she's a friend."

 

"Say, boy. What was your name, again?"

 

Nathan couldn't stand the huge, staring eyes glaring at him. "...You know what, fine," he threw up his hands, losing his nerve. "My name is Nathan Bookard. The other name was, uh, an alias. I try to play it safe, you get it."

 

"Bookard, aye?"

 

Nathan nodded, hoping desperately he hadn't just made a big mistake. He tensed as Aarjab reached under the counter, flinching when he whipped out a...datapad.

 

Well, that was alright.

 

"Girl was here again a few days ago. Left this here, said to give it to you. Paid me to keep it safe and not look at any of the data. I dont care about some datapad, but I'll take the credits..."

 

Nathan took it and turned it on. "What's the lock code?"

 

"She said to tell ya, er....'Cafe'. Said you'd get it. I don’t have a clue what it means, if you don't. Don't whine to me."

 

Nathan knew what it was. He entered 'Balasti'. Access granted.

 

Ozz had approached the counter to make his own purchase. He looked over and raised an eyebrow.

 

"What's that for?"

 

"Give me a second. I've got no clue."

 

Nathan tapped to enter the singular file within. His he widened as he read its contents. Ozz couldn’t bear the suspense.

 

"What! What does it say, kid? Is it a bank transfer?" He asked hopefully.

 

"Holy Karf. No, but, effectively, it's pretty close, Ozz."

 

"Free money?"

 

"Well, we'll have to do a tiny bit of work. It's a manifest, Ozz. Names, descriptions, locations...it’s a list of all the active, undercover Imperial spies working for Moff Pyerce!"

 

Ozz looked glum at the mention of work instead of free money, but he gradually processed what this meant. "The crazy guy, the one the CFS has bounties for? You've got to be kidding me...that's going to make hunting them a breeze for you, ain't it?"

 

"Uh, yes. It might help a bit, yeah. I mean, we'll have to do a bit of tracking, but...this…this is great."

 

"I can practically smell the payday from here," Ozz grinned dubiously. "Who's it from?"

 

"There's a message about that..."

 

Nathan read it for himself.

 

Hi, Nathan.

 

I really hope you're okay. I bet that by now you know what I was doing on Targonn. But maybe you also noticed that a particular vulnerability you and I discussed went unnoticed by the Imperial attackers. I hope Targonn's defense force mopped the floor with them. I gave them bad Intel to make it easier.

 

I've been having doubts for a long time about my place in all this, and our conversation was kinda...the nail in the coffin. But you don’t just 'quit' on the Empire. I can't just leave. So I'll do what I can until I find a chance to jump ship.

 

You're the only person I know who isn’t an Imperial, Nathan. I need your help.

 

The information on this manifest should help you expose my coworkers. Please, please help me do this. I've seen what the Empire can do, I've heard things, rumors, of Pyerce's plans. I don't want people to die. Please don’t let this chance go to waste.

   

I really hope I see you again.

 

Affectionately,

 

The Girl from Balasti Cafe

   

Nathan's heart soared in his chest, and a grin stuck firmly on his face. Ozz tugged away the pad despite objections and read it for himself.

 

"''Only person I know who's not an Imperial'...well, 'least we know it's not because of your qualifications,” he mused.

 

"Hey, that's nice."

 

"And just so you know, this doesn't mean she's in love with you, okay, nerd boy?"

 

"Wow. Didn't want to soften that one, huh?"

 

"I'm just saying! I don’t want you getting your hopes up. I hate it when humans cry." He finished with the datapad, looking at Nathan with a particular gleam in his golden eyes. "We better hit the road! Let you get to doing your nerd thing, and making me money! This is quite the little advantage we got here! Long as it's real and your girl's not double-timing us here."

 

A man came through the door of the shop. Aaftab took issue with this. "HEY! Only one set of customers at a time! Wait your turn!"

 

"I think not," said the man. He started forward, reaching for the datapad.

 

"Hey!" Shouted Ozz, and he wrestled against the human. "What's the big idea? That's our golden ticket, pal!"

 

Nathan reacted. He shouted, jumped in and threw an awkward, inexperienced punch at the man's face. It landed well, but it hurt like the dickens.

 

The man staggered back and drew a blaster pistol from his coat.

 

"Not again!" Nathan yelped. "Ozz, look out!"

 

Nathan pulled Ozz out of harm's way, but Ozz wasn't the target. One of the several shots fired hit the datapad. There was a shower of sparks as it was sent flashing into scrap.

 

"NO!" Ozz howled, clutching uselessly at the ground.

 

The spy wasted no time, and turned to bolt out the door. Nathan started to follow, but a groan from behind the counter stopped him in his tracks.

 

The trader was hit.

 

"Aaftab! Hey!" Nathan shouted, rushing to the Calamari’s side. The blaster bolt had struck his torso. Acrid black smoke curled off the burnt carapace, his coverall's burned away around the spot of impact.

 

Unpursued, the spy sprinted down the landing pad, past the docked starships to a sleek black shuttle near the end. He had a real head start.

 

"Nerd, he's getting away!" Ozz called, but Nathan had no chance of catching up now. Ozz would have to stop him somehow else.

 

"Wait, he's running past the Lucky Star!" The Iakaru realized, and he fumbled for his remote fob in his coat.

 

"This'll stop him in his tracks!"

 

Just as the spy was passing the Lucky Stat's engines, Ozz pressed the button that triggered the ship's afterburners. The rear ports flared to life with a bright flash of ion engine. The only problem was that Ozz timed it wrong. The engine flare didn't stop the spy in his tracks...it engulfed him, turning him into soot.

 

Ozz stared at the spot the Spy had been in disbelief.

 

"...Whoops. What goes around comes around, I guess? That never happened."

 

"Did you kill him!?"

 

"Engine misfired, that's all. Definitely not. Hey, let's get that guy some help, we gotta leave this planet as soon as possible."

  

Nathan was able to get the Quartermaster emergency help quickly enough that he was taken out of critical condition. He was going to live. Not that Nathan got a thank you out of it. He was also explicitly told there would be no discounts.

 

Or a datapad with a manifest of all the Pyerce spies.

 

"What wretched luck! What a blasted, stupid thing to have happen to poor ol' me!" Ozz moaned as they sat in the cockpit of the Lucky Star, preparing to depart. "I hate these Imperial spies! They're like annoying, shooty bugs!"

 

"Yeah, they're the worst. I wish I could have read that message at least one more time, too..."

 

"I think you're missing the point here, nerd boy...we had information! We had leads! Now we got nothing!"

 

"Oh yeah? Not nothing. I read those files for a few minutes, right?"

 

Ozz let himself feel a hint of excitement. "...You tellin' Ozzie you remember some of what you saw?"

 

"I just might. Bits and pieces, enough to get us started on the hunt. Maybe enough to find Mayla. And if we find her, we can free her, and she can help us hunt down the rest. This is a good plan. I like this plan. Of course, this only works if you still want to travel with me."

 

"...Fine, it's the best we got. I want a payday, Bookard. I don’t have time for debt collectin’, I’m not leaving your side ‘till you give me what you promised."

 

"Try not to incinerate the next spy, then."

 

"That never happened," Ozz said quickly.

 

"Sure. Boy, I’d hate to be the safety inspector overseeing those afterburners…”

 

Ozz grinned toothily. “Why do you think Schar Enginneering went out of business?”

 

“Well, no payday this time…hey, it's not a total loss: I got this nifty jacket!"

 

Ozz glared out the viewpoint as he busied himself with preflight checks. "If I didn't need what's inside your brain, I'd flush your stupidly optimistic smartarb out of my ship. I swear I would."

 

Nathan leaned back in his swat, his heart full as he remembered the contents of Mayla's message. 'Affectionately...'

 

He chuckled at his cranky companion.

 

"Uh-huh. You'd have to learn your ship, first. Your inertial dampener is on."

 

"...How'd you..."

 

"Same systems installation package as the loadlift speeders at the plant. Safety inspector, remember?"

 

"Shut up, or I'll make you inspect the outside hull once we leave orbit."

 

Nathan smiled. "Seriously though, anything I can do to help?"

 

"Oh, we’re bein’ serious now…yeah, actually, you know what? Go ahead and program our heading into the navcomputer. Where do we start our search, nerd boy?"

 

Nathan stood, and started to tap the answer into the controls of the computer.

 

"The fourth moon of Yavin."