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Post by starlord on Mar 13, 2010 23:52:01 GMT -5
Another terrific issue. I have to agree that the dialogue between Trickster and Flash was riveting to say the least!
exceptionally well written. Candyman intrigues the daylights out of me.
Keep up the great work!
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Post by starlord on Mar 12, 2010 14:36:21 GMT -5
Hi there. I rarely do this for my own stuff but I'd love for you folks to check out New Outsiders #49. Not only have Don Walsh and I had a blast with this cross-over, we've worked really hard to put this together. Well, Don't carried the heavy load to be honest, so he gets most of the credit. Anyway, for those who have been kind enough to read this book for so long, a LOT happens in this issue that ties into many threads that have been hanging since the murder of Vito Bertinelli. Not that I could blame you if you don't want to. I myself have been horrible about commenting on the books I've read as well. I will try to make that up. But if you all could take a peak, it would be great. Also not only is there a brilliant cover by Jamie but there's also an interior art piece that pretty much says it all. The New Outsiders: We know drama! (Or at least really bad mellow drama)
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Post by starlord on Mar 12, 2010 2:07:50 GMT -5
WOW! WHOA! I know I'm late here but I'm glad I stayed up late to read this.
Have to agree with David that Charlie has never been better than he is on this title.
I LOVED the Guy/Lobo showdown was my favorite, but then I'm a sucker for everything Guy Gardner. I'm also loving the fact that Chloe has been enveloped into this title as a strong supporting character. Now I only hope that Hal steps up to the plate as the daddy.
Amazing cover as well. But you killed Hank?!?! Oh come on! I was just getting used to him as a Green Lantern!
Ahh well, I have a feeling that maybe Hank's story may not be over... please... ?
Excellent job everyone!
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Post by starlord on Mar 5, 2010 22:52:43 GMT -5
I hate to see her go. I've really enjoyed the book. But I'm elated that Birds of Prey is returning.
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Post by starlord on Feb 8, 2010 9:59:23 GMT -5
Very awesome Brian. Great first issue, introducing the kids and getting the story off to a start right away. Great pacing and characterization. Thanks Chris. I've got big things planned for these kids, with Connor and Cassie coming up first. In fact if you are as big a fan of what is going on in the Superman titles as I am, there's going to be some major shockers coming that will effect that end of the DC2 Universe as well.
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Post by starlord on Feb 8, 2010 9:56:26 GMT -5
Couldn't agree with you more, Charlie, and you are not the only one that noticed the Mia situation. That will be rectified soon. I think maybe it's time for Mia to kick some baddy butt.
Glad you enjoyed the rest of the issue though. It's taken me a while to feel like I've hit my stride with this title, but focusing on the city as well as some new supporting characters has helped.
As always, thanks for taking the time.
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Post by starlord on Jan 22, 2010 16:18:17 GMT -5
I really liked this issue for how different it was. You don't usually see a story take place entirely from one character's perspective the whole time, but i really helped you get to know Bart really quickly, which is good, since he's going to be starring in his own ongoing and everything. I'd never done a first person straight through before either, so I'm glad you liked it. I was very nervous. I'm very happy that came across okay. It was really the major thing that I wanted to bring out first. Sounds like it worked. ;D Because of his 'origin' it really didn't make sense to bring him in in a spectacular fashion. Part of me wishes I could, but I'm hoping that the story pays off in the end. Well... yeah. Had I had the time (my own personal that is) to really flesh this out more, it probably wouldn't have gone down like it did - not entirely at least. Knowing I was going to do this in a one shot made me cramp things a bit more. I totally agree with you here and good catch. Of course the Simpsons will live forever! I'm looking foward to more speedster as well. Can't wait to see Pat's debut next month. And thanks everyone for taking the time.
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Post by starlord on Jan 22, 2010 16:11:53 GMT -5
A wonderful issue that fully brings Impulse into the DC2 after catching glimpses of him last month in the Christmas special. That word best describes this issue: Wonderful. I didn't know how Bart would translate to prose, a lot of his Impulse characterisation dependent on little caricature asides that occur only to him, but the repeating refrain of FOCUS worked really well. It was nice to see every single great thing about Bart Allen make an appearance here. Max Mercury. Nice. Just... this issue was brilliant. It's great to see The Flash get back on track, and I can't wait to see Pat's run begin next month! Thank you, Brian, for delivering so hard on such a brilliant project. Young Justice should rock, right? ;D I'll be happy if Young Justice passes. But I'm glad you enjoyed the issue. I'm really looking forward to reading Pat's run as well. Thanks for letting me play in the sandbox, but I'l be honest with you. As much as I love this title, I would NEVER want to write a Flash story. Waaaay to hard for me.
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Post by starlord on Jan 22, 2010 16:09:30 GMT -5
AND IMPULSE HAS ARRIVED! Awesome issue! I liked how you had Bart keep his past a mystery from just about everyone and the cover up with "Barney" was a good attempt at a save for his own impulsiveness haha. I liked Max's uncertainty about Bart but that he was also willing to give the kid a chance. I think it was a great idea to write Bart's scenes in first person. Really got you into his thoughts, which as we saw were pretty quick and he got off track pretty easily which was hilarious. And the fact that Bart first came up with the Impulse name after blurting it out was perfect. His meeting with Wonder Girl was well done (giggity giggity) and looking forward to how he interacts with Robin and Superboy in the upcoming Young Justice series. Great issue! Thank you Sir! Of all the young'uns, he is the hardest to write for me. I think I get him, but transferring it into a story is not easy for me. The interaction with Wonder Girl was probably my favorite scene to write. As for his interaction with the other two... you might have to wait until issue #2 to get to see that.
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Post by starlord on Jan 22, 2010 15:51:38 GMT -5
Please let us know what you think!
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Post by starlord on Jan 22, 2010 15:48:16 GMT -5
Green Arrow Issue #27: “The Star City Tango” Written by: Brian Burchette Cover by: Rik Mertens Edited by: Don Walsh New York City may be known as “The city that never sleeps”, but when it comes to the West Coast, Star City had gained that honor. How did the smaller city deserve the notoriety when it stood along side such cities as Los Angeles, Coast City, and Seattle? Simple: in the last five years it had become a major hub for illegal trading, and the syndicates that grew up around it, in large part because of the shipping lines to and from Asia and the South Pacific. Star City had so far avoided a true mob war, however. In that aspect they were way behind the more dangerous cities like Gotham or Chicago, where mob violence and turf wars were as common as a Starbucks on every corner. So what was coming down the pike, as they say, was something that the Star City Police Department was not prepared for... except for one man... The guys in his precinct had nicknamed him “Bulldog” early in his career, long before he had earned his detective's badge. His father had christened him Jebediah Lawrence Marshall, Jr. He was crowned with the nickname after the night of January 18th, 2003, when his partner and he were chasing down a rapist and murderer who had escaped from a mental hospital in Portland and had made his way down the coast to their fair city. After four dead bodies, twelve rapes, including that of a fourteen year old girl, and two months of intensive search, Jeb and his partner, Officer James Downing, had cornered him in an old paper-mill just outside of town. Downing had gone in the front, while Jeb circled around back; both hoped they would be the one to capture them. Orders were to stay outside until they received proper backup, but neither of them were one to listen to orders. By the time Jebadiah had made his way through the broken down loading dock, his partner had already confronted the psychotic who the press had nicknamed the Portland Monster. Jeb was able to follow the voices until he was practically right on top of the killer. Unfortunately the “Monster” heard his movement at the last second and dodged the blow Jeb tried to deliver. The man had a knife and was quick enough to stab Marshall in the side before Jeb could grab his arm. Though he went down quickly, Officer Marshall, Jr. was not out. He grabbed the killer’s legs, holding on until his partner was able to fire two shots that took the Monster down. By that time, Jeb had been stabbed four more times in the back. Still, he held on, never allowing the man the chance to take off. From that moment on, he was called Bulldog by his co-workers. He was a disheveled looking detective. It appeared as though he hadn’t ironed nor washed his cloths in weeks. Though not a dirty person, his appearance always gave that misconception. After making detective, he found himself on the receiving end of a rather nasty divorce that had left him bitter about life in general. Even now, two years later, he roamed the streets of Star City on his off time, rather than go home to his apartment on the lower west side. There isn’t a cop in the force who knows the city better than he does; which is why Amara Hunter of the D.E.O. went right to him when the organization began to take an interest in the meta human gangster who had become known as Brick. At first Bulldog rejected her request for help, but after a rather private incident with his older sister, he decided it was time to get in the middle of the bizarre world of super heroes and villains. He had not particularly cared for any of them, including Star City’s own Green Arrow. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate what they did, but at the same time he couldn’t help but wonder which side started it all? If there hadn’t been the rise of people like Superman or Green Lantern, would the world have had to deal with crazies like Polaris or Lex Luthor? Okay, scratch Luthor, his kind would always be creeping around in the world. So here he was, walking the streets of the Star, pretending to be something he wasn’t; just in hopes to catch wind of this new criminal mastermind who called himself Brick. All but the very top man in his precinct believed that The Bulldog had gone over the edge after what had happened to his sister; which was exactly what the D.E.O had hoped for. After a couple of well-placed phone calls, he was now considered a dirty cop. That particular reputation would have been something to wear like a badge in cities like Gotham or Hub, but here it was more than frowned upon, it was practically a death sentence if discovered. Two nights ago he had been waiting for a contact that was supposed to finally hook him up with Daniel Brickwell, but true to his nature, he saw a young blond girl roaming the streets so late he went to scare her back home. Amara Hunter, who had been disguised as a street walker, had stepped in to get him back where he had needed to be. It wasn’t in time, though, as the contact had witnessed the scene and left. He had been chewed out royally by Hunter that night, but hadn’t really cared. A young girl like that didn’t need to be on the streets at that time of night. He did what he had to do – bottom line. Two days later he sat at a rather good greasy spoon, waiting once more for this guy to show up. Once again he would be disappointed, but in a way that would possibly benefit him if he played his cards right. When the first gun shot went off it actually startled him. He cursed himself for his slow reaction as he dove from the booth, coffee splashed onto the Formica table. Except for the staff, he had been the only one in the restaurant when the first and then the second shot fired. The waitress screamed, the cook swore, and Jeb sprang for the door. He made it out and around the corner of the building in less than five seconds, more than enough time to see his contact lying in his own blood, two bullet holes in the back of his head. It didn’t surprise him, really; but what did was the fact that the killer was still there, holding the smoking gun in the cool night air. The man’s black leather trench coat flapped in the mid-winter breeze as he eyed what he believed to be the dirty cop in front of him. “Been waiting for you, Bulldog. My employer would like to have a word with you.” “And if I say no?” He could think of nothing better to say at the moment. “You didn’t live this long cause your stupid.” The man smirked. Jebediah shrugged and allowed himself to be taken. He had no idea where he was going, but he had always trusted his gut, and his gut was telling him this was the way in. ******* Mia Dearden was not panicking. She kept telling herself that as she looked out the window of the small apartment every couple of minutes. It was the window that Connor sometimes used when he came back from a night of patrolling. It had been nearly sixteen hours since she had last been in contact with him; highly unusual for him. It seemed she couldn’t go four hours without him calling to check up on her... now there was nothing. Smack dab in the middle of her teen years, Mia had been through more in her short life than most teenage girls. Having been kidnapped and sold into white slavery, she would have lived out a life of horror had it not been for her father and the original Green Arrow – Oliver Queen – who had come to her rescue. After all this time she still struggled with that trauma... and more.... Since her father’s untimely death, she had been having a recurring nightmare that would not go away. It was always the same scene that had replayed itself over and over. The moment that she had taken a life – the life of the man who had tortured her, the same man who had been about to kill Connor Hawke. * * In Green Arrow #17She had convinced herself that what she had done was for the best, that there had been no other way around it. She had even convinced Connor that she was fine; the truth was she hadn’t been since they had returned. Too much had happened. There were some days when she felt as though she were barely hanging on to her sanity. The constant nightmares were not helping. At least she could breathe a sigh of relief that the ghost of her father was no longer haunting her; though that made her kind of sad as well. With a glance at the clock for the tenth time in less than five minutes, it finally sank in that he was not coming home anytime soon. Something was definitely wrong. She had two choices at this point: call the emergency number that Connor had given her in case this event was to happen. It was a number that went directly to the personal phone of Batman; or... she could go out and look for him. Connor would want her to do the right thing, or at least what he told her. After ten seconds of careful consideration, she decided to find him herself. The idea of calling Batman was the scarier option. She opened her closet and stared at the bow that Connor had bought her. She had a little training, but not much. Should she...? “If you carry it with you, you must make sure you are prepared to use it,” a female voice said softly from behind her. Mia jumped before turning around. The woman was dressed all in black, a plain face mask covering everything but her eyes and nose. Her accent was thick, and the bow that she carried in her hand was impressive to the eye. Mia’s eyes widened as she recognized the woman from her talks with both Connor and Ollie. Yet, it was impossible... this woman was dead! “Shado?” She whispered in disbelief. “You... you’re dead.” “No, child, I am obviously not. Nor is your father. That is why I’m here. We were plucked from the clutches of death by the Shadow Thief.* * In Green Arrow #17“He... he’s alive? Where!? Where is he?” In her excitement she went toward the assassin, but stopped short when the woman pulled her bow up. “Do not come near me child. I have only told you this because in the time that your father and I were forced to work together, I gained a respect for the old man. He is alive and well and will return when he is finished with his adventure. He... misses you.” The last statement was said with obvious amusement in her tone. “My friend is missing. Will you help me find him?” She blurted it out before she had thought about what she was asking. She had just asked a known assassin to help her find Green Arrow. That was rich! It appeared that Shado had thought the same thing because she burst out in a throaty laugh, lowering her weapon slightly. “No.” Then she headed back to the window she had jimmied open and disappeared into the evening skyline. Mia thought she was going to faint. Her father was alive! ALIVE! Now she definitely had to find Connor. She had to tell him. They had to find Eddie! Going back to the closet she grabbed her coat and headed for the door. She decided not to take her bow; Shado’s words still lingered in her mind, but she was determined to find him. The small whine of her new Jack Russell caught her attention. She tossed him a treat she had had in her pocket and promised him she would be back soon. When she got outside into the chilly evening air she stopped on the stoop and looked around. She realized she had no idea where to start. Not totally true, she thought to herself. Every morning when Connor came home he blabbed on and on about where he patrolled and even what routes he took. If she could remember what he had said, it would be a start. Mia made a mental note to herself to actually begin paying more attention to her friend. ******* Waking up again, Connor found himself surrounded by a couple of doctors who had a grave look on their face as they stared down at him. They must have been physicians for the D.E.O. It was now his second run in with this particular organization. During his brief tenure as Golden Arrow he had met agent Chloe Sullivan who had been a key player in their final battle against Asad Fara.* * In Green Arrow #17“I’m assuming I’ll live?” he asked them in a dry voice. The one closest to him spoke in that typically reassuring doctor’s voice. “You’re going to be just fine. There was a little internal bleeding, but we stopped it easily. You’ve got three broken ribs and numerous contusions. You’re a very lucky man.” “I’ve always thought so.” “Alright, doctors, give us a few minutes please” said D.E.O. agent Amara Hunter from the door to his room. “Just a few minutes, Agent Hunter; the boy needs his rest.” “Yes, yes, I know the routine.” She stood at the door, giving them the look that they were to leave. They nodded and left without another word. When she approached him a warm smile appeared on her face. “I’m glad to see you’re going to make it. You took quite a beating.” “Thank you. I’m assuming that’s why I’m here? The beating I took from Brick the meta-human that your people have been investigating?” “You’re quick, I like that. It had been a while, we weren’t sure you remembered. Yes, that’s exactly why we’re still in this city. One of our remaining loose ends while the DEO's busted up and doled out to other groups.”* She had a note of bitterness in her voice. * Check out The Guardian mini-series for more details-editorWith no care for politics, Connor instead asked, “The other agent – Sullivan? Did she have her baby?” Amara chuckled. “Oh yes, not to long ago. Both mother and child are healthy and doing well. I’ll send them your regards. Director Sullivan said you were a bright young man, polite, serious. I have to tell you, I’m glad this is the Green Arrow we are working with. Your predecessor had a reputation for being a bit... difficult.” “That predecessor is also my father. Although he does have a reputation for being... passionate. Unless I misheard you, I could have sworn you just said we are working together. I don’t remember when that happened, actually.” “Well I may have spoken a bit prematurely, but I’m hoping that you will help us. We need to bring Brickwell in, but to do so, we also need to catch him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. My partner was recently killed trying to do just that. It was on Director Sullivan’s recommendation that I contact you for help.” “If you know he’s a meta, then why don’t you just go in, throw a net over him, and drag him away?” “You almost sound like your father just then. Being a meta isn’t illegal... yet. And I will admit that he is very smart. We’ve yet to be able to pin anything down on him; though we know he’s got quite an operation in Star City. The local police are also helping us with the investigation. They’ve got a man working hard to infiltrate his organization. But I figured you’re this city's lead hero and we could use all the help we can get. Especially as I lose budget and manpower each day.” It did not surprise him that he sensed she was holding something back; his father had constantly harped to him about trusting people with government authority. He would say that their motives were always deeper than what they told you. Connor also knew to ask too many questions would get him nowhere at the moment. “Alright, I’ll help you. This Brickwell fellow needs to be removed from society anyway. What do you want me to do?” “Exactly what you’re doing. Patrol the streets, check with your contacts. If you hear of anything that we can use, contact me.” “That seems relatively easy,” Connor mused. “Then you haven’t been dealing with Brick long enough,” Amara grunted. “The guy is good; super smart and super strong. Trust me.” Connor chose not to respond to the comment, his mind already working on this own theories. ******* The Bulldog was led down a side street in the fast growing area between 12th Avenue and Farmer Street that had been dubbed Star City’s very own Little Italy. He kept his head down, but his eyes were everywhere, and made sure he memorized every step they took. He was ushered down steps and into a side basement entrance of a small Italian baker. The aroma of fresh bread was overwhelming and Jeb made a mental note to come back there someday to purchase a warm loaf. When the door shut behind him he had to let his eyes adjust to the dim single light that hung over the mostly empty room. Except for two chairs that faced each other in the center, the place was bare. He was grabbed and roughly pushed down in front of one of the chairs as the other gentleman knocked on the inside door, once, announcing their arrival. Within seconds the door opened and a well dressed man in his early sixties appeared. Jeb was used to surprises; but inside he was thrown by the sight of notorious mob boss, Anthony Scarapelli. He eyed the man coolly as the infamous godfather sat down in the chair directly in front of him. “Detective Marshall, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” Anthony said. “You have quite a reputation in these parts. Is it too bold of me to assume you are aware of who I am.” “I know who you are,” Jeb said with a deliberate brusqueness to his voice. “If nothing else, the cliché of this room pretty much tipped me off.” Ignoring the remark, Anthony continued. “It has come to my attention that you are looking for some off-duty work. My men here were kind enough to stop you from making a huge mistake. Mr. Brickwell is not the type of employer that you really want to be working for.” “And you are?” “My pay is good, my fringe benefits are much better than his. A longer life span, for one. My Las Vegas and Hub City businesses are proof of that. I have a business proposition for you, Detective. One that I think can benefit the both of us.” Bulldog eyed him suspiciously, but inside his heart was racing. What were the chances that he could nail two big crime bosses in one operation? “Go ahead, I’m listening.” ******* In the third neighborhood that Connor was known to frequent, she began to wonder if her idea had been a good one after all. The first night had been unsuccessful, but she still didn’t want to give up; still didn’t want to call for help. She felt, in her heart, that it was her job to find Green Arrow. He had always been there for her, and now it was her turn. As she walked through the more derelict sections of the city, she began to doubt her choice. This feeling increased when she saw the four young men headed right for her, only a few yards away on the same side of the street. They were all in their late teens or early twenties, and all of them looked at her with like a pack of hyenas. Mia knew she had two choices: turn and run or continue to move forward with the hope that the training Connor had given her so far would be enough to fend them off. In an instant she chose the first thought, still insecure about her own limited abilities. She turned around on a dime and sprinted down the street the way she came with. She could hear the young men run after her, with war cries, laughing as they chased her down. She turned a corner quick, headed west back toward a safer neighborhood, and hoped that she could reach someone before they caught up with her; unfortunately her prayers went unanswered as she was suddenly tackled and brought down hard onto the concrete sidewalk. “Hey Joey, nice catch. Don’t throw her back, I think she’s big enough to keep... for a while at least,” One of them shouted and the others laughed as she struggled to get away from the one who had pinned her down. Before she knew how it had happened, Mia found herself on her back with the one called Joey straddling her; his knees pressed hard on her arms. He grinned at her before raising his head and letting a howl into the deserted street. “Who goes first?” Joey called back to the other three. When there was no answer he turned his head to see what the silence was all about. His eyes widened as he saw his three friends lying unconscious on the ground. A masked, blond man standing in the middle of them with his bow drawn. “I believe you would want to get off of her before you apologize,” Green Arrow said. Joey cursed in shock before he leaped to his feet and ran down the street away fromthe weapon pointed in his direction. He only got several feet when he felt the blunt arrow head strike him in the back of the head; after that there was nothing but blackness. Mia stared at Connor. “Oh my God, thank you! I really thought I was a goner.” “What are you doing in this part of town?” Connor asked, a not of irritation obvious in his voice. “Looking for you!” Her anger flashed at what she knew was going to be an argument. He wouldn’t even allow her a chance to be relieved that he was alive; something that ticked her off. “I believe the agreement was for you to call the number I gave you if I disappeared for more than twenty-four hours. I’m positive I paid the phone bill this month.” “Where the hell have you been?” She screamed at him as she ran up to him. What she really wanted to do was hug him, but he wasn’t allowing it and that too, was making her mad. “It’s a long story and one that we can discuss after I get you back...” “Well there you are!” A voice cried out from above them. They both looked up to see a dark haired man in some kind of uniform on the edge of the roof, an arrow nocked and pointing right at them. “I was beginning to think I’d never find you in this city, Green Arrow. It would have been a disappointment since my employer went to so much effort to spring me from prison.” “Do I know you?” Connor asked curiously. His own fingers were flexing as he gauged the distance between all three of them. He knew exactly who this assassin was, but he didn’t necessarily want the other man to know that... yet. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Merlyn and I’ve been hired to kill you. Feel free to try and fight me first. I’m dying to see if you’re any better than that loser of a Green Arrow that came before you.” Raising an eyebrow was all the reply Connor gave him, choosing to let his actions speak for him as his hand flew up as quick as lightning and fired an arrow. He suspected that Merlyn would block it with his own arrow, which he did. The new Green Arrow then fired four more in rapid succession, counting on catching him off guard as he fired different angles on all arrows. Merlyn was just as quick, just as agile as he blocked every single shaft with arrows of his own. They stood there, measuring each other up. Then Merlyn sighed. “I didn’t think so.” He then leaped off the building and right toward the waiting Green Arrow.
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Post by starlord on Jan 2, 2010 4:09:52 GMT -5
Wow am I falling behind on this title, and how unfortunate since I really loved this issue!
I will say that I wasn't hip to Katar in this, he seemed a bit mellow for my liking, but the chest comment made me laugh out loud and wake up my daughter... Nice! ;D
Your take on Dr. Light II was dead on, though! Excellent stuff there. Good to see Firestorm hanging around and can't wait to see what's going on there.
The JLA is a very hard team to write, and I'm happy to see that it's continuing in such a strong way after Don's most excellent run.
5 stars for both story and cover!
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Post by starlord on Jan 2, 2010 3:53:25 GMT -5
I'm glad Susan found this or I would have missed it too. I'm sorry we couldn't have worked together on this either, but I wish you all the best of luck. Oxford! How awesome is that! Please don't be a stranger. Pat and I will do our best to make you proud of Impulse! Be well and don't be a stranger.
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Post by starlord on Jan 2, 2010 3:50:49 GMT -5
Excellent issue!
Garth and Tula have been very strong characters through this story and I couldn't be happier. It's great when a writer gets the fact that the supporting roles have to be just as strong as the lead. You're doing a terrific job with not only those two but the rest of the cast as well.
I'm chomping on the bit to read the final chapter on this. Please don't leave me waiting to long.
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Post by starlord on Dec 31, 2009 2:17:57 GMT -5
Arrgghh. Let's get Justin back on that horse! Another outstanding issue. I love the Crimson Avenger and you are really doing him justice here. Not a bad note in this song. Great job with both cover and story. Keep it coming and I'll keep reading. (And not just because Ollie's here. )
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Post by starlord on Dec 31, 2009 2:12:32 GMT -5
WOO HOO!!!!!
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Post by starlord on Dec 26, 2009 1:26:45 GMT -5
thank you everyone who has read this Christmas special. It really was awesome, wasn't it? Every story I read was special in it's own way and I really think it was the best Christmas issue we've put out yet. There had to be something for everybody in this one. Another thank you to Jamie Rimmer for the beautiful cover and all the writers for their contributions. To those who have commented on my two entries, I thank you for reading and responding. I promise I'm going to do my best to make Young Justice fun for everyone. My goal is to make it a DC2 title with both the fun and the teenage pathos that PAD put into the book. And that Christmas party was indeed a huge self indulgance that I had wanted to do for a few years now. Like I said, it was my Christmas Card to the staff of this great site. Next to my husband and kids, this place and all of you here is what makes me want to get up every day and endure the never ending rat race. Here's wishing you a blessed New Year!
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Post by starlord on Dec 26, 2009 1:17:03 GMT -5
Finally!!! Well worth the wait and a perfect return for our original Dark Knight. Kudos to everyone for pulling this off in a perfect way that I can almost guarentee DC will not do half as well as what you guys did. Everything was really perfect down to the last detail in this story, but what amazes me personally is the whole Jason/Hush story. I'm VERY intrigued with this story and hope to see more of it in future storylines. Standing ovation to everyone for an incredibly masteful story. Now let's get Dick back as Nightwing where he belongs! 5 stars for everyone on this issue and 7 stars for the best Batman arc I've read to date.
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Post by starlord on Dec 26, 2009 0:56:43 GMT -5
Let us know what you think. Personally, I'm really intrigued on where this story is going. Also want to give Jay a huge apology for not having this up earlier. I got lax on checking my emails over the holiday. Sorry about that, Sir.
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Post by starlord on Dec 26, 2009 0:54:13 GMT -5
The Teen Titans [/i] Issue #48: “The HIVE War, part one” Written by: Jay McIntyre Cover by: Jamie Rimmer Edited by: Brian Burchette[/center] A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon. ~Napoleon The most persistent sound which reverberates through men's history is the beating of war drums. ~Arthur Koestler This story takes place after the events of Secret Society of Super Villains #6-1- Deathstroke, The Terminator was not having a good day. His last battle against the Titans had not gone well. He had lost Rose and failed to kill even a single one of them. He must be getting soft. Then there was the business with the Ten, and the Society. He sighed. He wanted to get back to the business of killing the Titans. He was busy with about a half dozen things, these days; but that was the core essential for him, the one job he'd never finished. Both the original reason he'd been involved, and the later HIVE employment were now annulled. He quietly sipped hot tea in a darkened room, one of his safe houses, and turned his mind to his strategy for taking them down. His most successful efforts so far had been taking them down one by one; he would return to that paradigm. Yes. But this time, he was thinking about poison-- THUD. He did not freeze, not even for a moment; he could not afford to. He went into a snap-roll along the floor, hot tea flying and staining the carpet, something he barely noticed. Were the Titans attacking him? Or one of the Society's enemies. Either was a possibility... THUD. No. Dull mechanical rote attack, by machinery no doubt. He had a fairly good idea who this was. A sickening sensation settled into his gut. THUD. He safehouse hadn't lost power, or at least not yet; he turned on one computer. THUD. The scanners quickly confirmed who it was. Of course, now that they had scanned him, they'd know he was here. THUD. They had probably sent strike forces to each of his safe houses they knew of. A simultaneous attack on each one, so if they missed the first time he would have had no advance warning; he had to give them credit, they were learning. THUD. Two armored units and about fifteen soldiers. As recently as six months ago, he might have considered such a relatively small force an insult to his pride; now he was just grimly determined. CRASH!! They were in. The HIVE did not forgive betrayal or failure, and they had come for him. -2- The Titans were all on top of the roof except for Troia, who was putting the final touches on Beast Boy's new costume. Gar himself was in civvies; but since he had no secret identity to speak of, this was allowed to him. Their newest member, Scarlet Wing, sat staring at the New York skyline. She had internalized a lot of her grief, but was still somewhat quiet and depressed. It wasn't every person who had destroyed their own universe. Oh, it had been the right thing to do to save the true reality and all that, but quite understandably the girl was taking it hard. She was still skittish around Troia, who had been a pyrokinetic sociopath in her world, and it would probably take her a while to get past that, too. But she listened as attentively as the others to Nightwing. "...it has been a while since Deathstroke came for us," he was saying, "And we've heard rumors of his activities elsewhere, but it's a good bet he'll be coming for us again, soon." "Don't forget the HIVE," Starfire murmured. "Just because he failed them doesn't mean they're going to give up." "No indeed," Nightwing agreed. "They've been keeping a low profile; from what we gathered about them they preferred to be a clandestine operation. But in light of their failures with Deathstroke, they may try something more proactive. "Terra," came Troia's voice over the intercom, "Bring your boyfriend down here, his costume is ready." Scarlet Wing frowned, watching them go. "Don't they take it seriously?" "Take what seriously?" Cyborg asked. "Our mission." There was some laughter at that, which died down quickly. "Each of them takes it serious," Kid Flash said from where he was sitting with Raven. "They just hide it; Beast Boy with humor, Terra with sarcasm." "I don't mean to criticize," the winged girl said, folding her arms and looking away. "After all, you've all been so kind to me. It just seems...improper, somehow." "Rest assured," Nightwing said to her, "That anyone who doesn't take this seriously could end up dead." -3- Deathstroke could have met the HIVE head on, charging into them swinging his sword. He could have blasted away at them with his guns, or hurled a grenade. He did none of these things. The HIVE soldiers came tromping in, guns and energy staves at the ready. No cowled and robed operatives had shown themselves, at least not yet. The leader was better armed and armored, though. "No sign of him yet, but scans confirm; he's here." "He's hiding?" one of his followers protested. "Never thought him that much of a coward." At first Deathstroke wondered if even a HIVE brat so could be so stupid as to believe that, then he smiled in the darkness, realizing it was a ploy to draw him out. "Well he did fail against the Titans," the leader responded. "Perhaps he's lost his nerve." They waited a second more, then when it was clear he wouldn't take the bait, said; "Stay together, don't get separated. That's just what he wants. In fact...yes, contingency four, I think." There was a dull whump as gas canisters landed on the floor. Their hissing penetrated the rooms. Again, Deathstroke approved. Their own armor and helmets protected them from the gas; that was the reason why none of the hooded leader types was present. He had his own gas masks of course, but at least they were using their brains. They were learning. His approval went up another notch when, upon realizing their gas was having no effect, their leader shouted "Fire!" and the room erupted in the thunder of weaponry. -4- "Tad-ah!" Beast Boy proclaimed as he came out onto the roof, wearing his new costume. It was mostly silver, with a much narrower band of black. "So, what do you think?" "Very post modern and minimalist," Kid Flash said. "Why, Garfield," Raven put in, "Are you trying to become a straight-up hero on us?" Cyborg frowned and put on a mock serious tone. "I knew Terra was a bad influence on him." "Hmph!" Terra crossed her arms. "I'll have ya know that I suggested something symmetrical in red and white. This was all his idea." Scarlet Wing cocked her head. "How strange..." "You're one to talk, miss striped stockings!" Terra called back, but even Scarlet Wing could see she meant it as an amiable jape. Her eyes flicked instead to Troia, standing behind the silly pair. The protege of Wonder Woman looked back, understanding her gaze. "I'm not her," she said quietly. "I know," Scarlet Wing said, looking down. "It's just--" The proximity alarms went off and the whole tower shook. Starfire shot off the roof without having to be told. Scarlet Wing recovered from the shock and, with a snap of her wings, was just behind her. Beast Boy and Troia followed. Four armored units, over twenty soldiers armed and in armor and helmets, and one hooded HIVE overlord were waiting for them. "You idiots," Starfire said with real venom. "Yes, you would think so," The HIVE leader said. "But it will be one of your last thoughts. No more games; no more hiding; it is time for you to die." He lifted his power staff and fired, but Starfire fired right back. The two kinds of energy met and formed a shockwave of power that caused the HIVE leader to stagger and blew Starfire and Scarlet Wing back, but they recovered quickly. Beast Boy shot past them in a form of a bat, and reached down to grab the leader by his hood and yank him painfully into the sky. Starfire and Scarlet Wing had recovered by now; Starfire blasted soldiers with starbolts, and Scarlet Wing threw three egg-splosives at the lead armored unit. Troia was coming down behind them now, and Raven had teleported in; Nightwing was swinging down from the roof, and Terra and Dagon had come bursting through the front door. Kid Flash was already wreaking havoc at super-speed. But now the HIVE was firing back. -5- Deathstroke dropped and rolled as the bullets tore through his safe house. Three or four of them buzzed over him, and one even ricocheted off his space age polymer chain mail armor. Yet still he did not strike back. Instead, he rolled right and stabbed hidden panels on the floor in quick succession. Another three bullets bounced off his armor as he did so, and a plasma bolt flashed overhead. At his touches, a small channel opened in the floor and he dropped into it, landing painfully in the enclosed space below. Another frantic stab and the panel slid shut once more. He was buying time, waiting for them to get exhausted and frustrated. But he had to give them credit; they were more disciplined and determined than they had been during the debacle at their base. Forcing down the frustration of that reminder he drew his left hand pistol and his smaller, right hand rimfire gun. And waited. At last, the bullets and plasma fire died down (though one shot had punched through the floor and ricocheted off his leg, leaving a bone bruise that caused him to grit his teeth in pain). Now, at last, they began to spread through the safe house’s four full rooms and bathroom, searching for him. But they were still wary, believing him at best wounded, not killed. Yes, they were learning. "Stay alert," the leader said. "I don't like it that he didn't shoot back even once. We know he's here, and we know he's not dead yet." "Waste no time, we have to find him," said another. "Word from high command; units eight and nine have begun the attack on the Tower as well. As expected, the brats are putting up stiff resistance. Units four through seven are en route to back them up. Units one, three and five are on their way here." Slade was stunned. They were attacking the Titans as well? At the same time as himself? As bold as it was, it was also foolish. They should have focused all their resources on him first, or on the Titans first. On the other hand....now would be the perfect time for him to go after the Titans himself...once he dealt with this situation. Now, at last, as he paid close attention to the creaking sounds of them tromping overhead, now when one of them made the mistake of stepping directly over his hiding place.... Now Deathstroke finally struck back. -6- Troia absorbed three plasma bolts at point blank range. She did not bother to use her bracelets to deflect the energy weapons; Diana had taught her that lesson long ago, before she even joined the Titans. And in any case she could take a lot of physical punishment. Which is no to say it didn't hurt. It just made her angry. She grabbed the front end of one of the armored units and, almost casually, flipped it over. Beast Boy carried the leader over the Lower Bay, dodging his plasma bolts and taunting him all the way. "Thank you for flying punslinger airlines," he quipped. "We hope you enjoy your fishing expedition." "My what?? You little--!" Beast Boy let go. "Au revoir," he called. To his credit, the leader was determined; he let fly three shots on his way down to the cold water. Beast Boy's bat form had to shy sideways to avoid the last two of them. A HIVE soldier was doing his best to pry Dagon's helmet off and expose him to the daylight. Dagon responded by slamming him hard into the pavement. Kid Flash was back in action at full power at last, reveling in it. He almost casually knocked a couple HIVE soldiers aside, then began pummeling an armored unit. The vibrations caused the crew inside to become almost physically ill. Raven wrapped her soul-self around a HIVE soldier and forced him to confront his own worst nightmare. Terra wreaked havoc, knocking soldiers aside like ninepins with her rocks. Nightwing was having the least luck. It was all he could do to avoid enemy bullets and plasma bolts. "Concentrate all your fire on the weakest of them!" a sergeant inside one of the armored units shouted. "Finish them quickly and efficiently! No more games!" Nightwing still managed to duck and dive and avoid, but as the others moved to protect him, some of them finally began to get hit significantly. A stray plasma bolt slammed into Dagon's ankle. He screamed and went down. A bullet grazed the top of Raven's left shoulder. Troia was surviving the attacks just fine, but the collective impact of four plasma bolts at once knocked her over. Scarlet Wing howled as a plasma bolt punched through her right wing. Her wings were part of her, complete with nervous system, and she dropped to her knees, clenching her teeth and shuddering. -7- The HIVE had a new base. While several of the old bases still existed and were maintained, the new one was not buried underground or in the mountains. Rather the new command post for North American operations was in a Portland skyscraper in the Pacific Northwest. The HIVE had always prided itself as being advocates of high technology, and the new base was no different in that sense. What had changed was that they were seamlessly interfacing with the modern world. Instead of hiding underground, they hid in plain sight. Three ranking members sat, watching operations through various monitors. Deathstroke was finally fighting back; it was good they had sent reinforcements. Ever since the Eclipso event, they had been relatively low-profile. Even during that occasion they had tried to stay out of the public eye. And certainly they still wanted to keep their bases and headquarters secret; even more so than before, if such was possible. But as far as their actual existence and operations and goals, their previous clashes with the Titans had taught them: Enough. Enough was enough. They had to confront the Titans directly, and take them out. And Deathstroke too, for failing them. No more games, no more waiting. No more acting through intermediaries, unless such wanted to join the organization outright, and support its goals. The soldiers believed in their technocratic vision. Their scientists worked hard to make that future. And not just in combat; slowly they were infiltrating the media, the political parties, the business, and above all, the ordinary citizen's life. It was time for the HIVE to step out into the open. It was time for the HIVE to stand on its own. -8- Deathstroke's first five shots killed their targets, then it was time to move. He dropped his guns and rammed his sword up through the foot of another trooper, then at last came bursting out of the hiding place in the floor, sword swinging. But even so he stayed as low as he could, trying to both avoid enemy fire and cut as many of them off at the knee as he could. It was neither kindness nor mercy; most would bleed to death, or he would finish them off later. But for the moment, he needed to take them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. Four of them actually had the opportunity to track him and fire. Two bullets intersected at the same point on his ribs; their momentum forced the polymer chain mail into his flesh. He gritted his teeth and swung his blade; the two shooters responsible would never get up again. That left the leader and one other soldier. He tried to run the leader through with his blade whilst kicking the other man away. The kick was successful; the sword thrust was not. The leader parried with his power staff. Normally Slade would be amused by a duel. If he were facing the Titans, perhaps he would have. Now he had no time for it. Two hard strikes was all it took to knock the man's staff away, and then the fatal follow through cut him down. This gave the last soldier time, however, to recover, pick up his own machine pistol, and begin firing. Deathstroke snap-rolled to the right, his armor taking a few hits, and one bullet zipping dangerously close to his head. As he rolled, he dropped his sword and pulled two shiruken from his belt. He threw one; it caught the man in the shoulder, but he kept firing. A bullet slammed into Slade's left wrist. Grimacing in pain, he threw his other shiruken for the man's face, but to his credit, he ducked. Which allowed Deathstroke to lunge directly at him like a battering ram. He slammed his head into the enemy's armored abdomen, knocking him back into, then through, what was left of the wall into the kitchen. Still somewhat dazed from the collision, Deathstroke nevertheless got his hands around the man's throat. The man punched and kicked desperately, but Deathstroke just held on, fingers like a vice, until there was a harsh rattle and the man expired. He could have just snapped the man's neck, but he was not feeling merciful towards his former employers. He crouched there, breathing heavily for a moment, waiting for his accelerated healing to kick in. When it did, he stood up slowly and carefully. He moved to the door, knowing what he would see there. The two armored units tracked their weapons to him. Just as they opened fire, he back flipped. Heavy artillery seared past him on both sides, and for a moment he was surprised that neither had hit him. But even before he came out of the somersault, he realized that was not their intention. The both shots detonated behind him, knocking him forward, even as what was left of the safe house came down on his head. -9- Troia stood up and began pounding an armored unit into submission. Terra screamed in rage and grabbed three of the HIVE soldiers in stone fists. Cyborg punched and kicked and used his white noise cannon. Beast Boy returned, saw the situation, shifted to Elephant form, and trod on one of the armored units treads and bent it's guns with his trunk. Teeth grit and eyes watering, Scarlet Wing pulled a special device Cyborg had made for her from her belt, and tossed it on top of the last armored unit. Electric energy sparked all over it, shorting its power out. Nightwing was finally able to stop dodging enemy attacks, and actually took a couple troopers down with surgically precise kicks. The blurring speed of Kid Flash and Starfire's starbolts took down the rest. Raven began healing herself and the others. Her powers worked on Dagon, but more slowly. He would rather have limped back into the tower and drank a refrigerated blood pack, but he didn't think there was time, and he spoke aloud the reason why: "That was too easy." "You call that easy?" Scarlet Wing said wonderingly, as Raven's power healed her injured wing. "They seem tougher than the Allegiance soldiers i remember." "We've clashed with the HIVE many times before," said Nightwing. "After all we've been through against them; I doubt they'd give up this easily. "It was most likely just the opening salvo," Starfire agreed. Sure enough, they heard the clanking, whirring noise of more armored units, and the screams as the citizens of New York scrambled to get out of their way. The next wave of HIVE soldiers was almost upon them. Continued....!
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Post by starlord on Dec 16, 2009 0:21:27 GMT -5
Now this is what I'm talking about-- wait, how many times have I said this when reviewing this title? I mean, time after time, I'm thoroughly impressed, and I don't see a problem with that... though I don't want to sound like a broken record... THIS WAS BRILLIANT. It's great to see all these threads come together in a linear fashion, and even though I read the Annual, it's cool to see that it's a smooth and easy read even without. The characters are themselves, the action is top notch, and that moment with Black Canary Snr was gut-wrenching-- but then again, I missed a line and thought that she and Rex were going to do something different with the Miracle-- BUT I DIGRESS. Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you about this issue, but I'm really excited about the possibilities for this arc, and where it could go. And I love that, even facing the challenge of two lifetimes, your characters still sparkle with the trademark with that has become synonymous with this title... that, and sordid, heart breaking tragedy, that is. Brilliant work, Brian, I'll be following this you-know-where! Thank you Charlie, you make me blush. Don and I have been working feverishly to make this enjoyable and compelling for readers of both titles. I hope it pays off. Make sure you check out Danger Trail for part 2 and then be back here in a couple of weeks for part 3. Oh, and you might want to check out the just released DC2 Christmas Special for what could possibly be the most bizzare New Outsiders story, ever.
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:35:58 GMT -5
Let us know what you think!
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:33:46 GMT -5
Office Party or A Merry Mary Sue Christmas [/b] Written by: Brian Burchette Edited by: Charles HoM[/center] Deep in the heart of Mid-Town Manhattan there is a seemingly innocent looking office building, surrounded by other high rise buildings of different shapes and sizes. This particular building, on this particular Christmas Eve, is anything but innocent. Housed in this fifteen story building are the offices of the legendary DC2! You can find the writers holed up on the twelfth floor, the keyboards that are usually clacking away are silent, as is the rest of the office. We must go one floor above to hear the Christmas music that is playing, the tree in the employee lounge is lit up bright, as are several of the art department employees. This is DC2’s annual Christmas party. But this year it will be different then other years. Sure, good natured ribbing will be flying as fast and loose as Ramon Villalobos on a Saturday night, but with the entrance of two late employees, the mood of the celebration is about to change. Flying through the door to the lounge at the same time, Chris Paugh and House Of Mystery nearly got stuck in the door frame. “Guys, look what we found in the basement of this place.” Charlie shouted in an accent so thick you could have cut it with a paper knife. “I found it; he was busy hitting on that blond secretary in that small office in the corner of the basement. Still don’t know what they do down there.” “She’s secretary for some small time magician who does Bar Mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings. Her name is Lilly, by the way.” Chris said with a wink. “So what exactly did you find?” Jay McIntyre asked, putting down a tattered copy of The Judas Contract. “It’s an old crystal ball, but I think I figured out whose it is.” Charlie replied with a glance to Chris. “What you got there, Chuck?” The voice of Scott Krueger asked as he walked up behind the English lad. Scott was followed closely by David Charlton and Brandon Herren. “A magical crystal ball.” “Of course it is.” David chuckled as he made his way past the small group of on lookers to find his bottle of Scotch that he had hidden away behind one of the plush couches. “Hey, who took my bottle?” He called out seconds later. There was a thump in the corner and everyone turned just in time to see Pat Owen sliding down the wall, a contented look on his face. Out of the restroom came cover artist Paul Johnson, still holding David’s bottle. “Here ya go, pal. Your turn.” He stopped to see David looking at him, then placed the bottle tightly in Pat’s hand before the Aquaman writer’s backside hit the floor and he began to snore. Paul grinned. “I told him not to do it.” Then he stumbled off towards the food table where Ellen Fleischer stood in a warm conversation with Boris. “Every year...” David mumbled. Others were now gathering around the supposed magic ball. Mark Bowers and Roy Flinchum seemed taken with the smoky center that seemed to swirl in animation. “Perhaps it does have magical attributes.” Mark suggested. “Did anyone ever tell you that you sound like John Lennon?” Roy asked suddenly. “Once, yes.” “Well try it out.” Jamie Rimmer shouted. A hush then filled the great lounge as they all waited to see what Charlie was going to do. Charlie looked at all of them before handing it to Mark. “You’re the boss, you do it.” Mark then rolled his eyes. “Oh for Pete's sake, there is no such thing as magic and I’ll prove it to you. Hmm... Let’s see.” He glanced over at writer Brian Burchette who was doing his annual grazing at the buffet table while Susan and her husband looked on with a mixture of disgust and fascination. “Okay, oh magic crystal ball; bring to us the DC2 Outsiders so that we may celebrate Christmas with them.” Nothing happened. Brian didn’t even look up from the food table to acknowledge the idea. Then, as everybody started laughing, there was a sudden gust of wind that nearly knocked everyone over. When it had stopped, standing in the middle of the party, was The New Outsiders (though with close to 50 issues in the bag we’re not quite sure how new they are anymore). Shocked silence filled the room. The only sound was that of Pat snoring heavily a strange ghostly weeping sound that never seemed to stop. The staff of the DC2 had become accustomed to this disembodied noise. Some of the senior staff members believed it to be the gentle sobbing of an employee who had disappeared many years ago; right after a botched attempt at a Superman story that showed the Man of Steel striking a young girl. “Where the funny underwear are we?” Grace of the New Outsiders was the first to speak. “And why did I just say funny underwear when I wanted to say frog hopper. HEY!!!” “Then again, I could be wrong.” Mark stated, unruffled by the turn of events. Batwoman stepped forward. “Where are we?” She demanded, looking squarely at Scott and Brandon. There eyes bulging, Scott blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Dear God, that uniform design looks even better in real life.” He nudged Brandon. “Yeah, can I cook or can’t I?” The young artist said with a satisfied smile. “This is a bit hard to explain.” David said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you all mingle with each other and Barbara and I can figure out what is going on here.” “How do you know my name?” Babs demanded. “Trust me; none of you have any secrets in this place.” David assured her. “HA!” Brian snorted from the buffet table. They all turned to him. He chose to blush and refocus his efforts on demolishing the crab puffs. “I don’t have time for this; I promised my mother I’d pick her up for five o’ clock Mass.” Huntress growled. “And could you two please stop drooling on me.” She barked at Charlie and Chris who suddenly seemed attached at her hips. Diana threw up her arms. “Slutty Sally is at it again.” She saw the food. “Okay, this interests me.” Scott Cook and Samantha Chapman walked past the group as quickly as they could, but Grace shouted for them to stop. “Hey, you two flower wads. How come I can’t get out the word I want to say?” They looked at each other before Samantha stepped forward. “Perhaps because it’s not a word you need to be saying here. Really, does that cussing help you out at all?” Grace said nothing, just gave her a look as her face turned several shades of red. Scott Cook took a step forward, grabbed Samantha’s arm from behind and slowly backed them both up and out the door. “Hey guys, I just finished Editing DC3’s new... WHOA!!!” Don Walsh said as he walked in on the bizarre situation. “Mark finally sprung for the strippers this year!” “Do I look like a stripper to you?” Manhunter asked with her arms on her hips. “Dressed like that you do.” Don answered innocently. Later that evening Don would admit to not remembering much of anything after that point, but would continue to sneeze out spiked egg-nog from his nose for the next two days. “So what do you say, you wanna see how it works?” Plastic Man was heard asking Susan and Ellen over in the corner. Ellen turned to her friend. “I’m not sure who I find more repulsive at this moment... him, or Brian for obviously creating this monster.” “You hitting on my wife, pal?” Jamin asked the elastic hero with a suspicious look on his face. “Zowie! Nope, not me. I’m going to go over there.” “Excuse me, Ms. Huntress.” Jay McIntyre said softly. When he caught her attention he cleared his throat. “I’d just like you to know that I was dead set against having you violated in the way that you were. I tried to talk him out of it.” “WHAT!?! WHO???” Jay pointed innocently at the short, bald, fat man who was taking in the entire scene with the same gusto that he was inhaling the shrimp cocktail with. Jamie Rimmer walked over to Brian. “They are all beautiful, aren’t they?” “Oh yeah. Some of the most independent and radiant women I’ve ever seen created. And those uniforms are amazing.” Jamie nodded in agreement, the two of them standing there for a second before Jamie reached over and slapped Brian on the back of the head. “Hey, what was that for?” “For not writing Nightwing.” “Right there with you brother.” He sighed before he realized that Huntress was towering over him. “Oh this can’t be good.” Then he felt himself being dragged out of the room by the back of his shirt. “Where you guys going?” Brandon called out. “Payback.” Was all Huntress said as she pulled the door open and marched through. Back at the buffet table, Roy Flinchum was looking around as if he had lost something. “Hey, did someone take the summer sausage I brought? I was going to cut it up.” The door slammed shut. “Alright, this needs to farming stop right now!” Grace shouted in frustration. She threw up her arms in surrender. “I give up. Frost it!” “Bloody hell! This gives me a great idea for a story.” Charlie shouted as he ran out of the room. The others hadn’t even had the chance to turn away from the closing door when it reopened and Charlie came rushing back in. “Who wants to edit it for me?” “Nobody’s going to believe me at all.” Steve Howard said in awe. “I don’t believe me and I’m living it. Excuse me, do you mind if I do a portrait of you?” He asked, walking up to Black Canary. “Go away.” “That would work too.” Steve said as he walked away quickly. The door to the office David and Batwoman had been in opened up and the two of them came out. “Alright, folks, I think we’ve figured it out.” David said, clapping his hands for their attention. “Magic was what brought you here, so it’s obvious we need magic to send you back, and who could be better suited at that than Zatanna herself.” Barbara looked around. “Hey where is she, anyway? I know she was here when I went into the office.” The door to the EiC’s office suddenly opened and a disheveled Zatanna walked out, adjusting the hat on her head. She was soon followed by Mark who was tucking his shirt back in. “Did you need me?” “Obviously not as badly as Mark did.” Ramon muttered. Huntress came back into the room, happier than she had felt in years. “Let’s get out of here.” “You got it.” Zee stated as the New Outsiders gathered back in the middle of the room. “Thanks for having us.” She called out before uttering the words backwards and casting the spell they needed to head back to where they had come from. “Really? That had to be the last thing she said?” Susan asked to a stunned crowd. Slowly, one by one, all heads seemed to turn to Mark, who stood there looking back at them; his expression that of a seasoned poker player. He said nothing, just opened the door back to his office and walked in. He heard the sounds of the Christmas party begin again as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk. “It’s good to be the king.” He sighed. “Excuse me, Sir.” A small, squeaky voice called out to him from the floor. Looking down, Mark was more than taken aback at the white bunny that was looking up at him, a concerned look on his small, fury white face. “I got knocked out of the hat and seemed to have wandered off. Any chance you can send me back to the pretty girl you were violating... preferably sometime before Easter gets here.” The Ever Loving End
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:32:57 GMT -5
The Lord of Misrule Where the Birds of Prey step onto the Christmas Trail By Don Walsh Edited by: Brian Burchette “C'mon, stop dragging your feet, will you?” Kendra Saunders, a.k.a Hawkgirl, said to her two friends as she stood impatiently inside the front hall of Jonni Thunder's house. “We're going to be late.” “You know, last year, I had to send a Christmas Spirit to haunt you into going,” Dawn Make-Strong-Move reminded her friend as she looked up from the easy chair she sat in. Feet hung over the arm of the chair, swaying a little in their sandals as she spared Kendra an arched glance. “You sicced your boyfriend on me,” Kendra countered with a snort. “He has a lot to learn about being a Christmas Ghost.” “He worked the holiday whammy on your sleeping behind, girl,” the woman also called Manitou Dawn said with a smirk. “And can we not bring up my ex again?” “Okay, okay, I'm here, I'm ready,” Jonni Thunder said as she finally arrived from her upstairs room, a bag in one hand. She was dressed in her typical tailored, impeccable look, coiffed and manicured, a stark contrast to her two friends. “I'm still not sure about this though. I mean, I don't even know your grandfather.” “He's fine with it,” Kendra said with a playful tap to Jonni's shoulder. “He's looking forward to meeting you. Said something about wanting to meet the latest version.” Jonni's eyes widened at that, and clutched her bag tighter. “Really? But...well...I guess. But I'm not a Christmas person.” “Like I am?” Dawn joked as she stepped up to the others. “It's okay. Cyril's a cool guy, and it's not about all that stuff we see on commercials and read in papers. There's more to all of this. It's okay. You'll see.” “I guess,” Jonni sounded unconvinced. “Let's get going,” Kendra said as she wrapped her strong arms around her friends' shoulders and ushered them from the house and to the car. “I'm the butt-kicking tough-skinned action girl, but you know what? I've got family, and I'm finally getting to like the thought. And if you'll pardon the chick-flick moment, I want to add to it. So indulge me.” Jonni chuckled, and gave a wry smile as she packed her bag in with Dawn's and Kendra's, then slid into the passenger seat. “Okay. I think I can go with that. I asked for it, after all, didn't I? But I warn you, I want to hear no dogs barking Christmas carols, got it?” The car pulled out of the driveway and headed out; maneuvered through city streets, and merged onto the highways, left the city behind and motored out into the snow-covered rural lands. Christmas card-like in its images, even Jonni started to warm up to the trip as Kendra told her how she and Dawn discovered some of the strange magic of this time of year; and how her grandfather, Cyril 'Speed' Saunders would get wrapped up in it. “I hope I got the directions right,” Kendra said as she looked around at the wintry wonderland. “This seems to be taking an awful long time.” “Is it more than a little strange that Hawkgirl has lost her way?” Jonni teased as she carefully threaded her car over the snowy, slick roads. “I'm Hawkgirl, not Homing-Pigeon Girl,” Kendra replied and stuck her tongue out. “Thank goodness. Man, could you imagine trying to be a terrifying scourge of crime with that for a name?” Dawn continued to tease Kendra. “Kite-Man would finally feel cool.” Kendra turned to pretend to threaten Dawn, and instead narrowed her eyes and stared out across a field. “Stop!” she said suddenly. When the car had halted, she climbed out and looked over the area. “I remember that big rock over there,” she explained. “The turn off to Grandpa's place should be right here.” “But there isn't a turnoff,” Jonni pointed out. “I'm beginning to think you're right, Kendra,” Dawn said as she stepped out of the car now and paced up into the deep snow. “I'm getting the sense that this is taking longer.” “Hah! Though so!” Kendra said with a smug look. “Pop the trunk. I want my wings.” Soon enough, the three women were headed across the snowy hillside, Hawkgirl flying overhead. “I see the house up ahead!” she called back down to the others. “Thank goodness, because this wilderness is doing nothing for my Donna Karan slacks,” Jonni grumbled. “They weren't meant for hiking through frozen tundra.” Dawn laughed and shook her head. “I'll take you to a real wilderness and we'll see how you do with the Donna Karan then.” They crested the hill and looked down at the mansion, surrounded by men and women in black suits, armed and wary, on guard for intruders. “Wow, your grandfather's guest list is bigger than you told me,” Jonni said with an incredulous look. “That's not right at all,” Dawn said as she swung her arm in a sharp arc and let her tomahawk appear in her grip. “Something's very wrong with all of this. There's a spirit at work here.” “That's your bailiwick,” Kendra said as she swooped closer. “Jonni and I will cover you.” The three heroines sprung into action, with Dawn using the sudden eruption of combat from Hawkgirl and Jonni Thunder to slip into the mansion. “Okay, I don't know what sort of villainy you're up to, but I've got...you...cornered?” Dawn stopped suddenly in the dining hall and looked at the feast that was underway. Cyril Saunders and Harriet Cooper-Saunders at the head of the table, food and drink and talk filling the chamber with warmth and the Christmas glow. All heads looked up from the table and stared at her, tomahawk out and ready for battle. “Speed?” “Cyril, please,” he said as he looked at the young woman. “Kendra finally made it?” “Yes.” Rima stood up and stepped to one side, as Cyril saw how the Amerindian woman stared at his wife. He glanced at Harriet, then to Rima, then finally sighed heavily. “Saturnalia?” Rima looked at Dawn somberly as the scene around the four of them slowed, everyone else as if frozen in amber. “When did you figure it out, Speed?” Harriet asked as she stood up and moved from the table. Her image wavered, and slowly shifted to a young-looking woman in a Romanesque toga. She was slight of build, and short of height, even shorter than Rima. “Pretty early on. Rima told me to enjoy, so I let things slide. King can be a jerk sometimes, but he's not going to set up internment camps for political dissidents. And Steven bossing around the likes of the Demon's Head in place of his grandfather?” He laughed at that. “I see. You're not mad?” Her eyes were clear, and sparkled like diamonds as she watched him shake his head and give a wan smile. “Good. This wasn't revenge, or a trap, or some plot for world domination.” “What was it then?” “I've always liked you, Speed. You're heart is like my people, like a Lord of Misrule,” she said with a wide mischievous grin. “Even when you were spoiling my plans with your friends, it was all in good fun. You know that, right?” “Some part of me, yeah.” “I...I wanted to give you a Christmas present, for all the good you've done, Speed. Not just me.” She looked at him, her face quavering for a moment. “I got permission first. It was a present, Speed. A grand and glorious Christmas, picture-perfect, one for the painters and poets and carol-writers. Being who I am, I had to upend things, of course, thus your friends being the villains, but..but they were still your friends, and...I did have permission to be who I was, Speed.” Cyril Saunders stood in place and looked at the mischievous young holiday trickster he'd met seven decades before, and felt Dawn and Rima each move close and support him as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “Merry Christmas, Speed.” Saturnalia stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. “You were one of my favorite mortals. Thank you.” “Thank you, dear. Thank you.” He watched her fade from view, and the world shimmer and shift and the dinner started up again; King, Steven, Silver all returned to who they were, as Kendra and Jonni finally stormed the dining room doors. “What's going on? Grandpa, are you okay? Everything good here?” Kendra asked as she floated over to Cyril, as the other diners rose in response, confused, trying to understand what had happened, where the sudden arrivals had come from. “I'm great, Kendra. Wonderful.” Cyril looked over at Rima and met her gaze and then looked at everyone else. “One last grand and glorious Christmas adventure.” He hugged Kendra tightly, and looked over at Dawn and Jonni. “Cyril Saunders. You must be Jonni Thunder. I met your great-grandfather once. If you'd let me, I'd love to give you a present, and tell you about him.” Jonni fingered the family heirloom in her pocket, the ancient, weathered wooden thunderbird and smiled. “I'd love that, Mr. Saunders.” He looked over the room full of friends and family and felt at peace for the first time in a long, long time. “Speed. My friends call me Speed.”
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:32:12 GMT -5
An Emerald Christmas Written by House Of Mystery Edited by: Brian Burchette The following story takes place after Green Lantern #25 Hal Jordan wasn't in Kansas anymore. Except he was-- and it wasn't yet something he was used to. He smiled at that thought, as he flew green and true toward his destination, spiralling through the night sky toward Smallville. Chloe Sullivan, mother of his child, and long time resident of Smallville before life took her a ways away, was staying in her best friend's home, Kent Farm. Chloe Sullivan had known Clark Kent's true nature from the early days of his heroic career in Smallville, fighting off meteor rock infused freshmen and the odd metahuman who stumbled across the freak-capital of America. Hal always loved to hear those stories from Chloe's lips. When she would rush around saving Clark's ass when he got in too deep and too eager, discarding rogue Kryptonite meteors and returning him to vim and vigour. As a Green Lantern, Hal Jordan had seen the universe. He'd seen over-verses and under-verses, and in all his hard travelling and long weeks gone, he'd never met anyone like Superman. And no other race, none he'd ever met, were as allergic to their homes as much as Kal-El of Krypton was. His daughter. Jessica. The most valuable thing in his whole life, able to be held in his arms, reliant on him and Chloe for pretty much anything... he laughed as he streaked across the sky, nearing Smallville. Wonderful. His aura sparked, as it was wont to do when his thoughts shifted from pure and emerald to affectionate and caring. He didn't need to focus right now, he needed to hurry up... he didn't want to be late. Green Lantern landed in the woods beside the road outside the entrance of Smallville Farm, and transformed his flight-suit into his usual shirt, jeans and jacket. He felt the crisp snow shift underfoot as he walked, and basked in the cool glow of the moon. Christmas Eve, and everything was quiet, and everything was beautiful. Soon enough, he passed the security detail that were positioned at the gate leading in to the farm. Hal Jordan gave them a smile, and handed them the coffees he'd picked up on his way here. "Here you go boys." "Colonel Jordan, you're a life saver!" said the first man-in-black. "Didn't know they had a Starbucks in Smallville though... weird as." "Life's full of little surprises, and besides, you're working Christmas duty. It's the least I could do," replied Hal, "Any trouble?" The second agent shook his head. "None at all, s'all quiet. Director Sullivan's guests just left. Ms Lang and Ma Kent, I mean." "Sounds good," nodded Hal. "I'm headed in." "See you soon, sir." Hal jumped over the gate, and walked slowly toward the farm itself. His ring regulated his body temperature so he removed his father's jacket, and carried it over his shoulder. "...A beautiful night." Soon enough, he was at the doors of Kent Farm, and unlocked the front door. Chloe was waiting, holding their daughter in her arms. "Colour me surprised," she said, a mischievous look on her face. "You made it." "I told you I'd make it, didn't I?" shrugged Hal. "I'm not going to miss our daughter's first Christmas. How's she been?" "Like you don't already know," laughed Chloe. That one was true. Hal had a construct monitoring every single biological function of his daughter, the ultimate security blanket. He'd learned that you can never leave something too unprotected, and he wanted to know, at a moment's notice, if something was amiss. Then again, getting a call whilst battling The Tattooed Man just to burp his daughter was a bit much, wasn't it? Regardless... "Fine, you've got me. Good night?" "As good as any others," smiled Chloe. "And yours?" Hal scratched the back of his head, and then smiled at Chloe awkwardly. "Spoke to Jim, they wanted to know... well, they wanted to know if we'd like to go visit them tomorrow for dinner? He wants to meet his niece." "That would be nice, of course," nodded Chloe. "And how was the Justice League Christmas party?" "Postponed, had to put down Kulak the Sorceror and Warlock of Ys before they stole South America. Long, elaborate story." "One for bedtime?" asked Chloe. Hal laughed. "Indeed." Chloe gently gave Hal their daughter, and then headed for the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" "I'm alright. If you don't mind, I want to take Jessica out for her first night flight." Chloe hesitated for a moment, a puzzled look on her face. The look softened within moments, as she remembered the stories that Hal had told her before, about his father, about their flying together, about the dreams and stories that they both shared... and she smiled. "Sure. Just wrap up nice and tight." Hal lifted up Chloe, who giggled with glee. "Y'hear that, my beautiful little baby?" Hal's ring unravelled his uniform over his body, and wrapped Jessica up in an emerald bubble. "We're going flying!" He began to float up off the floor, and then phased through the roof of Kent Farm, and out into the night sky, leaving Chloe alone in the farmhouse. She looked at where Hal and Jessica had once stood, and then bit down on her bottom lip, not knowing what to do-- she then exhaled, and turned back to the kitchen, and began to make a mug of hot chocolate. Her daughter would always be safe. Forever and always, with him as her father. Meanwhile, Hal Jordan, baby Jessica in tow, soared up into the sky. He held her close as they breached the upper atmosphere and reached orbit. There, Hal's ring made the bubble containing his daughter spread and grow, until it surrounded the both of them and they were together, looking out at the stars. "This is where your daddy works, sweetheart," he said quietly, "this is his office." He pointed out to a distant star, "over there is where his blue bosses work," and then began to rock Jessica to sleep. "You'll meet the nicest alien you could ever meet when you're old enough. Kilowog can't wait to meet you. Even Salaak wants to say 'hello'. You're a child of the universe, and it's your playground, you know that?" He looked down at Jessica, and saw that she was sleeping. "And no one will ever hurt you, because I'll always be there for you. You'll never want for anything. Your aunts and uncles in the Justice League will be there if you want them to... though Uncle Bruce is going to take a lot of explaining... yeesh. We'll spend New Years with your Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, but here's hoping little Bart isn't developing any speed powers yet or that could be a headache..." He laughed to no-one in particular, and then sighed. "I wish you could have met Baby Carrie. She was a delight. You would have been such friends." Hal breathed out heavily, and leaned back, taking them through re-entry. He concentrated hard, ensuring nothing would get into the bubble, and then, just as silently as he left, he was back in Smallville, and headed back inside. He quietly put Jessica to bed, and then headed downstairs to Chloe, who handed him a mug of hot chocolate. "Good talk?" "When aren't they?" smiled Hal. "I just laid out her life for her." Chloe sipped her drink, and then sank into the sofa in front of the fire. "So what's it going to be? Budding test-pilot? High-faluting air-force colonel? Follow in daddy's footsteps, either way?" "Whatever she wants, it's hers," he said gently. "Going to have to be careful with that attitude, aren't I? Don't want to spoil her, ha." He sat next to Chloe, and she took his hand between hers. "I don't care what she does, as long as she's happy. She's our daughter, and she deserves to be happy-- that's all that matters." Chloe rested her head on Hal's shoulder, and he leaned in to her. "Indeed it is." The End
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:31:17 GMT -5
The First Day of Christmas Beginning a trip down the Christmas Trail By Don Walsh Edited by: Brian Burchette Cyril Saunders woke up early on Christmas morning and glanced toward the window from his bed. His was a sleepy face, and he yawned and stretched, as he saw the snowy slopes toward the rear of his mansion. He sat up in the bed and stretched his arms out, then scratched the back of his head. He pulled himself out of bed and wrapped himself in his thick robe, jammed his feet into warm slippers, then shuffled out of his bedroom. He stepped out into the hall and glanced around. Something felt off to him. It seemed bad enough that he'd not had his usual Christmas Eve adventure. That had disappointed him; made worse by the fact that none of his comrades came to visit. Nor had Kendra, and that made his shoulders slump. He was so sure he'd changed her around last year; her and her friend Dawn Strong, and the ghost Kit. They were grand company. His cousin Greg had mentioned being too wrapped up making sure the extended family that were the Law's Legionnaires were all given a grand Christmas, and that was understandable. But no Kendra? None of his other friends? He had reached the foot of the grand staircase when he smelled the delicious breakfast aromas. This made him perk his head up, and he moved with a quicker step to examine the dining room. “It's about time you were up, sleepyhead,” Harriet Cooper-Saunders chided Cyril with a joyous smile as she laid the breakfast food out. “Eat up, eat up. We've a lot of work to do before everyone shows up! I'll need lots of help with the dinner fixings!” He watched his lovely Harriet scurry around the table, head over and hug him. She'd filled out in her old age, with her auburn hair curled up in a prim style, with laugh lines and rosy full cheeks, but she was still his beautiful... “Harriet? But...that's not...” “Not what? Did you have that awful dream again, Cyril?” She tsked as she guided him to his table and set his food before him. “Well, never you worry about that. Today is all glorious Yule and family, close and extended.” His mind rolled back to the days of Speed Saunders, running the Danger Trail; the wars against Vandal Savage, the sad outcome of Harriet's betrayals-- “Get the door will you? I have my hands full with turkey gizzards!” Harriet called out from the kitchen. Cyril staggered down the main hall, reached the double doors, and opened them timidly. “Argent? But...wait, I know...” “You never get tired of that joke, do you, Uncle Speed?” the woman with the platinum locks said with a brilliant smile and a big soft hug. “Happy Yule!” “Silver St. Cloud,” he mumbled. “It's...wonderful to see you.” He hugged her back, then held her even tighter. “Great to see you too, Unc, it really is,” Silver said as she stood in shocked in his embrace. “Mind if I come in now? It's kinda chilly out here.” “Of course, silly, silly me, where is my head, dear,” he said as he escorted her into the foyer and closed the door. “How are things back in that Green and Pleasant Land?” “Under control, Unc, under control, thanks for asking,” she said with a laugh as they headed for the dining room. “Decided to come out early and see if Aunt Harriet needed some help with dinner.” “I'm sure she'll be happy for it,” Cyril said, and began to enjoy the golden holiday morning, and watched Silver walk off to the kitchen as he settled in for breakfast. He chewed slowly at some sausage, sipped on the coffee and stared after the kitchen door. What next? he mused silently. He finished and then went back to his bedroom to change into a fine suit of clothes to greet his guests. They slowly arrived through the mid-morning: King Faraday arrived first, as always, followed by Steven Savage, Jr., and then finally the Daughter of the Didi, Rima. “How goes Societies, Steven?” King asked as they sat around the parlor, sipping sherry and admiring the tall green tree festooned with lights and bulbs; garlands of holly strewn across the rafters and lit candles adding to the flickering glow of the warm fire in its place. “Very smoothly, now that the upstarts were put into their place, King, thanks for asking,” Steven replied in that velvet voice of his. He puffed at his cigar and looked back at his friend. “And how is the International Union? I heard about the Zandian disturbance, and all I could think of was the troubles that little dot of land has given us over the years.” “True, true, but not after this last dealing, rest assured,” the thick-set master of politics answered with a raised glass. “This is a good Yule, I would daresay, with little left to roil the harmony of our world.” “A wonderful achievement, I'm sure,” Silver said as she refilled her glass. “And long overdue. Grandmum would be so proud of you all.” Cyril watched all of this, the four of them chatting so eagerly over past victories and current demands of office, and smiled, but only slightly. The warmth of the season, the joy of the day, undercut by a strange sense at the back of his neck. “You're not wrong, my friend,” Rima said softly as she stepped behind his easy chair. “Not wrong at all. I know that I help my Amazonian counterparts to control the southern hemisphere, from my jungle home, but it's not right. Not at all.” Cyril reached up over his shoulder to touch the jungle woman's hand, with a look of relief in his eyes. “So what now? How do we handle this? This must be my annual adventure, my challenge to the season's arrival for this year. Just have to get to the bottom of what's happening.” Rima squeezed his hand firmly. “I don't think so, Speed.” “Cyril, please. I've not been Speed in...” “Speed Saunders, listen. I don't understand what is happening,” Rima said as she watched the others chatting happily, old friends one and all. She felt the papery skin that surrounded what was left of the flesh on Cyril's aged hand, and squeezed again, gentle and tender. “But this, I don't think this is your adventure. Not your trail. Not Danger, not Christmas, not...it's not your trail. Not anymore. This is a gift, of sorts. I think...” She choked on the words and he sensed the sorrow in his dear jungle friend. “I think this is for you to enjoy.” Harriet glanced over at the two of them and toddled over to them. “What are you two whispering about over here? All hush hush? Cyril, are you misbehaving again?” “No dear. No. Rima, she was just telling me how special this all is. And she's right, I...I should appreciate it.” He stood up and put an arm around Harriet's waist, guided her to the mistletoe, and kissed her, with decades of pent-up emotion pouring from him. “Good, Speed. That's what I want to hear,” she answered, eyes wistful, and then she hurried off for the kitchen. “Silver, ready to help me serve?”
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:23:27 GMT -5
“THE GHOST OF PRESENTS PAST” Written by: Susan Hillwig Edited by: Brian Burchette 1871:[/i] “Good to see you up and about, Mr. Hex,” Malloy said to the customer that just stepped into the general store. “Been wonderin’ when you’d be back in town.” “Just tryin’ tuh take it slow, is all. Don’t want tuh go an’ bust muh damn leg all over again.” It had been six weeks since Jonah Hex had been injured while hunting up in the mountains, and though his leg had healed enough to bear his full weight, there was still an obvious limp in his walk as he made his way to the counter. “You’re lucky a busted leg is all you got. Ain’t many folks that’ve walked away intact from bein’ jumped by Injuns.” “Thet may be so, but they ain’t the reason muh leg got broke. Not directly.” Jonah leaned against the counter. “Put a decent hole in muh arm, though, but it weren’t nothin’ tuh write home about.” “That’s not the way the Hartley gal tells it,” Malloy said. “She makes it sound like you was bleedin’ like a stuck pig while you fought off the whole damn tribe barehanded.” “Miss Hartley has exaggerated things a touch.” Jonah paused, then asked with a slight amount of apprehension, “Whut else is she sayin’?” “Not much, least not about herself. She talks to damn-near everybody about you, though.” He waved a hand towards the street, saying, “She’s workin’ at the hotel in exchange for room and board, if you want to see her.” “No, Ah don’t.” Outwardly, Jonah tried to show no emotion, but inside was a different story. His mind had been fixated for six whole weeks on what happened between himself and Emmylou Hartley up in those mountains, part of him wishing that he could wipe away that indiscretion while another part of him reveled in the memory of it. He supposed that, if he was a more religious man, he’d go have a sit-down with a priest and confess his sins, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was tell anybody about this. Good Lord, if word of what he did ever got back to... “...Mei Ling?” “Whuh?” Jonah snapped out of his rumination at the sound of his wife’s name and stared at Malloy. “Whut did yuh say?” “I said, ‘How’s Mei Ling?’” “Fine...Mei Ling’s fine.” Suddenly remembering why he’d come into the general store, he said, “She sent me tuh pick up a few things.” Malloy nodded. “Figured this wasn’t just a social call. Got a list?” Jonah produced one from inside his coat, and Malloy set about tracking down the items. As he plucked things off the shelves, he asked Jonah, “So, the two of you gonna come into town for the New Year’s party?” “Reckon thet depends on her. The baby’s been makin’ her feel a mite poorly the last few days.” “Well, there’s still a couple more weeks ‘til the party. A lot can change between here and there.” Malloy set some items on the counter. “Surprised that young’un ain’t popped out yet: your wife was lookin’ pretty close to ready last time she stopped in.” “Ah know, but the doc says the baby won’t be gettin’ here ‘til early February.” “Well, if that’s the case, he’s gonna be pretty dang big when he finally arrives.” Jonah answered, “Thet’s because he’s half-Texan. Yuh know everything’s bigger down there.” The two men had a good chuckle over that, and Jonah felt some of his unease fade away. As Malloy walked off to get some more items on the list, Jonah let his eyes wander over the other merchandise displayed nearby on the counter: jars of brightly-colored penny candy, a stack of woolen blankets, and a single wooden box. To Jonah, the last item looked to be about the right size and shape for cigars, and not being one to pass up a good smoke, he opened the lid to see what kind they were. The items that lay inside, however, were certainly not cigars. They were soldiers; two dozen in all, each about three inches high and cast in lead -- half of them resembled Colonial minutemen, the other half British redcoats. A few of the tiny men were on horseback, and a few more were kneeling down to take aim at the enemy with their miniscule flintlocks. There was even a pair of cannons nestled within the felt-lined box. Malloy saw Jonah looking at the box and said, “Oh, I see you found my little battalion.” He came over and pulled out one of the soldiers, saying, “I got them from a company back east, along with some other toys. There ain’t a lot of kids livin’ in Cheyenne yet, but I like to keep a few things on hand for Christmas, just in case. Rest of ‘em sold, but nobody really seems interested in these fellas.” “Thet’s a shame,” Jonah said quietly, his gaze not moving from the box’s contents. “Yeah. Reckon the War’s made a lot of people think twice ‘bout lettin’ their boys play with toy soldiers.” He shrugged. “Christmas ain’t for another week, though. Might be able to sell them before that.” Malloy put the figure back in place, then went back to work. Jonah continued to look at the soldiers, pulling off one of his gloves so he could run his bare hand over them. There was a series of scars across the palm of that hand, once very evident but now stretched and faded as his hands had grown and acquired newer wounds. He could still remember how those scars looked when they were new, however, and what it had felt like to receive them. It’s hard to forget your first battle. He closed his eyes, and it all came back to him... * * * * * * 1841:He keeps his eyes closed because Ma tells him to, but she doesn’t tell him why, even though he keeps asking her as she steers him down the hall very early in the morning. Jonah is three, and he is always asking questions, like why does snow melt inside the house but not outside, and where does Pa go when he puts all those bottles in the wagon. It’s been a long time since Pa last rode away with the bottles, but Jonah doesn’t mind because Ma seems happier when Pa isn’t home. She smiles, and she dresses pretty, and sometimes somebody will visit with her while Jonah plays outside. Jonah doesn’t always know who they are, but they’re always men. Jonah thinks they might be friends with Pa, but when he asks Ma about them, she doesn’t tell him, just like she won’t tell him why he has to keep his eyes closed right now.
He knows when he reaches the main room, because he can feel the warmth from the fireplace (and that’s why the snow melts inside the house, he remembers that), and Ma tells Jonah to stop and turns him just a little to the right, and then she says Open your eyes, so he does. He opens them very wide because he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing, and he asks Ma why there is a tree in the house, and Ma tells him that it’s a special tree, a Christmas tree. Jonah knows what Christmas is, and he knows about baby Jesus and the manger and the special star in the sky, but he’s never heard of a Christmas tree before, and says so. And then Ma tells him about how her grandparents came from a place called The Old Country, and that they would always cut down a tree and decorate it for Christmas. She calls it a tradition, and though very few people outside of The Old Country do it, she wanted to teach this tradition to her son. This doesn’t make a lot of sense to Jonah, but he thinks the tree is very pretty with the little candles sitting on the branches and the ribbons wrapped around it. Then Ma brings him closer to the tree and sits him down and hands him a wooden box tied with ribbon like on the tree. She says This is for you, and Jonah pulls off the ribbon and opens it. His eyes open even wider now when he sees the toy soldiers, all blue and red, and he looks up at Ma and asks if all of these are really for him and she says Yes every one of them, and Jonah throws his arms around Ma’s neck and kisses her.
After breakfast, Jonah sets up his soldiers all over the floor. They march in straight lines in front of the fireplace, and they fight battles beneath the tree, and around midday Ma joins him and tells him about another Christmas a very long time ago when General Washington (who Ma says is the man in blue on the little horse) took his soldiers across the Delaware River to surprise the British. So they make up a new game by laying a blue scarf of Ma’s on the floor and putting a small piece of kindling on it for a boat, and Jonah plays Crossing the Delaware until suppertime. Ma serves up a whole chicken for just the two of them, and Jonah eats very fast so he can go back to his soldiers. He plays until Ma tells him it’s time for bed, so he carefully puts his soldiers back into the box and places it back under the tree. He asks Ma how long can they can keep the tree in the house, and Ma says As long as you want, and Jonah says he wants to keep it forever, and Ma scoops him up and hugs him and carries him down the hall to his bed.
In his dreams that night, Jonah is riding the horse and the blue soldiers march behind him and their guns go pop-pop-pop and make the red soldiers fall down. He laughs and claps his hands and all the soldiers get back up so they can play again under the big Christmas tree with its ribbons as wide as a country road and candles that sparkle like stars. They’re halfway through their third fight when Jonah hears thunder rumbling over the battlefield, and suddenly he’s not a brave blue soldier anymore, he’s a scared little boy, because the thunder isn’t thunder, it’s Pa yelling, and Jonah sits up in bed and he can hear Ma crying as Pa calls her a whore, a stinking whore. Jonah doesn’t know what the word means, but he’s heard Pa say it many times before, especially after Pa’s drank a lot of those bottles that he puts in the wagon.
Jonah gets out of bed and creeps down the hall to the main room, where he sees Pa standing over Ma, and he still has his coat on as he hits her and says that he can’t leave her alone for one damn minute without her spreading her legs for any man she sees. Ma denies it, but that just makes Pa angrier, and he starts grabbing things and throwing them and making an awful mess. Then Pa grabs hold of the Christmas tree and knocks it right over onto Ma, and then he kicks the box of toy soldiers and it flies into the fireplace and breaks apart. Jonah screams NO! and runs towards the fireplace, and he sees that the little lead soldiers are melting from the heat and their fine paint is burning off. Then he sees one of the soldiers laying on the hearth and it looks okay so he grabs it and it’s HOT but Jonah won’t let go, not even when Pa smacks him and knocks him to the floor. Now Pa is yelling at him and hitting him and Jonah is so mad at Pa that he yells and hits back, but it’s useless, he’s only three, and soon he can’t stand up anymore and he falls to the floor again but Pa doesn’t stop hitting him. Then he hears Ma shout and she gets up and grabs Pa’s arm, and Pa turns his attention back to her while Jonah lays on the floor and cries because his hand hurts and his body hurts and he wishes that Pa would just go away and never ever ever come home.* * * * * * 1871:[/i] “I’m glad you’re home,” Mei Ling said as Jonah entered the bedroom. She was laying on the bed, resting on her side to try and take some of the pressure off her legs and back. “I kept imagining something terrible was going to happen to you.” Jonah sat next to her, saying, “Yuh gotta stop doin’ thet tuh yerself, sugar. Just ‘cause Ah had one little accident don’t mean thet Ah cain’t take care of muhself no more.” He leaned close to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Feelin’ any better?” “Still tired, but I’ll be all right.” She rested a hand on her ample belly. “Some days it feels like I’ll be pregnant forever.” “Thank the Lord thet it ain’t gonna be so.” He laid his own hand over hers, then said, “Think the two of yuh are up fer makin’ some supper tonight?” She nodded, and Jonah helped Mei Ling to her feet. As they made their way down the hall, Jonah spied Ironjaws padding across the floor towards the kitchen table, and before he knew it, the wolf had its front paws on the table and started nosing around inside the satchel Jonah laid upon it. “Hey, quit thet!” he shouted, but Ironjaws was too absorbed by the interesting smells in there, so Jonah grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck and yanked it away. “Dammit, if’n yuh want tuh stay in the house fer the winter, yo’re gonna have tuh learn tuh listen.” The lecture went right over the wolf’s head, and it tried to go back to the satchel the moment Jonah let go. Grabbing Ironjaws again, Jonah knelt down in front of the animal and stared it right in the eye, saying, “Ah’m gonna lock yuh in the barn if’n yuh don’t quit. Yuh hear me, yuh damn flea factory? Ah’m gonna march yer furry butt right out there an’...” “What’s this?” Jonah turned his attention away from the wolf and saw Mei Ling pulling a wooden box out of the satchel. Before Jonah could say otherwise, she opened it and looked at the tiny soldiers laying inside. “You bought toys?” she asked. “Just...just the one,” he replied quietly. Mei Ling smiled at him and said, “I would have thought you were a bit old for toys.” “It ain’t fer me.” He stood up and walked over to her, paying no mind this time to when Ironjaws went back into the satchel. “Ah thought maybe it’d be nice fer the baby. Not right away, of course, but maybe when he’s a few years older...” “What if he’s a she?” Mei Ling interjected. She’d been teasing him about the possibility of it being a girl for months now. Jonah shook his head, refusing to be baited. “Ah don’t care whut the baby is, Ah just...Ah want them tuh have it. Thet’s all.” Mei Ling could see something lurking in Jonah’s eyes as he spoke. He’d been acting a little odd the past six weeks, and while this was odd as well, it was a decidedly different sort of odd. She could tell that there was some meaning behind Jonah’s desire to buy the soldiers, and though he didn’t voice it now, perhaps he would later on. Okay,” she said, and set the box down upon the table. “I don’t like the idea of our child playing with such a thing, but if you want them to have it, I suppose I can agree.” Slowly, Jonah drew her into a hug, and after standing there together for a while, he said, “Ah was thinkin’ on the way home.” “About what?” “Well, Ah know yuh ain’t Christian an’ all, but Ah was wonderin’ if maybe we could set up a Christmas tree.” “What for?” A rare expression of warmth came over Jonah’s scarred face. “It’s a tradition,” he said. THE END
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:22:23 GMT -5
“Miracle Monday” Written by David Charlton Edited by Brian Burchette A light dusting of snow swirled off the busy Metropolis street as Lois Lane approached the crime scene, clutching her coat tightly around herself in the cold December air. The police cars had it blocked off, but with a quick wave of her press pass she was allowed through. Superman was already there amidst the wreckage of a battle that had all but demolished the street corner. He was talking to Inspector Henderson, but Lois’ attention was on the body. Where there was Superman, there was never a dead body. At least, never before. “Who was he?” Though she hadn’t spoken especially loud, Superman turned at the words, glancing from her to the dead man in some sort of high-tech battle suit. “He called himself Shockwave,” said the Man of Steel, and in his voice was something Lois had rarely heard before, a kind of sad weariness that bespoke of discouragement. “I’ve never met him before today. His battle suit looks like LexTech, though.” Taking a tentative step closer, Lois studied the anonymous visage of the dead man, looking up and down the remains of his shattered suit. “What happened?” she asked, turning back towards Superman. He looked up at her, caught by the abruptness of the question. “He started shooting up this street corner, taunting me to come out and face him. He has some sort of hypersonic cannon attached to the suit. I got here just as it was overloading. Unfortunately, his suit seems to be powered by a Kryptonite power cell, so I couldn’t get very close. Then he just… exploded.” “He seems to be the only casualty,” Lois looked around, noting the lack of ambulances. “Superman shielded us,” came the voice of a little girl, bundled up and waving her mittened hands at Lois. “He saved my friends and me.” “That’s what Superman does,” Lois gave the little girl a wink, then knelt by the body, peering unflinchingly at the face. “Inspector Henderson, this man’s name is Atticus Wembly. He was a security guard for LexCorp for years. He disappeared after Luthor went underground. You shouldn’t have any trouble verifying this; guy’s got a record a mile long.” “Mind telling me how you know that, Ms. Lane?” Inspector Henderson made a quick motion to one of his detectives, who immediately got on his mobile device to check it out. Rising to her feet again, Lois shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I oughta know; he escorted me out of LexTowerOne on numerous occasions. We were practically on a first name basis. Would’ve been on my Christmas list if he hadn’t pushed me out of a moving car once. Nasty piece of work, this guy.” Superman, who had been keeping his distance due to the lingering effects of the Green K power cell grunted and shook his head as he took to the air. “Wait!” Lois called after him. “I have just one question…!” But he was already gone, a red and blue blur streaking across the sky. Lois swore under her breath as the forensics team moved in. She made way for them, turning at the sound of her name called in a familiar voice. Clark Kent made his way through the crowd beyond the police cordon. He waved at her and tripped over a curb. People laughed but he ignored it, belatedly flashing his press pass to the uniformed officers who moved to keep him back. Nevertheless, they eyed him dubiously as he slid awkwardly past them, onto the crime scene. “Sorry I’m late, Lois, traffic is awful during the holidays, but I came as soon as I heard. What happened? Looks like I missed the action.” He craned his head around, low and high, steadying the glasses on his nose. “What else is new, Smallville?” Lois gave her colleague an affectionate, if patronizing, smile. “Luthor sent one of his goons after Superman again. Same old story. Except this one had a slightly different ending. Said goon was hoisted on his own petard.” “Huh? No need to get vulgar, Lois…” “Shakespeare, Clark. Means he was done in by his own villainy. No fault of Superman’s.” “Oh.” Clark Kent watched as the crime scene investigators began removing Shockwave, AKA Atticus Wembly from the ill-fated battle-suit. “Well, knowing Superman, I doubt he feels that way.” Remembering the tone in the Man of Steel’s voice, Lois could only nod. “I think you’re right. I think Superman takes this sort of thing very personally. I think he thinks he can save us all, good and bad alike, you and I along with poor dumb Wembly here--- maybe even Luthor himself. But every once in a while, I think he gets a good look at human nature for what it really is… and maybe that never-ending battle looks more and more like an uphill battle.” For a moment the two reporters stood there in thoughtful silence, the snow drifting lazily before them. Then Clark cleared his throat, glancing at Lois sidelong. “What did you want to ask him,” he asked in a voice more assured than his usual tone. “You said you only had one question.” As if hearing something new in her colleague’s voice, Lois gave Clark an appraising look, but saw only the same old Smallville. “Heard that, huh?” “Well, I was pretty close-by when you called after him,” Clark hid his embarrassment of her sudden scrutiny by cupping his hands to his mouth and blowing, rubbing them together for warmth. Lois was always struck by just how big those hands were… “It was nothing, Clark. A softball. He was looking down, and I wanted to cheer him up,” she jammed her own frozen hands into the pockets of her coat, and looked back up into the darkening sky, as if searching for signs of him. She seemed to be deep in thought, however, and it was a long time before she said: “I was going to ask him what he wanted for Christmas…” ~S~ The next morning, the Daily Planet carried an article by Lois Lane entitled: “What Superman Wants for the Holidays.” It was the type of story that folks read at the newsstand over their steaming morning lattes and passed around the office, asking each other: “Hey, have you seen this yet?” That edition sold out, and the newspaper went back to press for a Late Edition, much to the delight of Editor-in-Chief Perry White. “We’ve got a bona fide phenomenon on our hands,” he waved the rolled-up paper around the bullpen, slapping it into his open palm with a satisfying smirk. His staff had caught his infectious excitement, and the newsroom bustled with enthusiasm and pride. Copies of the early edition were everywhere, and even sports writer Steve Lombard was caught reading it in his cubicle. “Lois, I just got a request from the AP to run the article nationally in tomorrow’s papers. You might just get that second Pulitzer out of this!” Under most circumstances a declaration like that would have had Lois Lane beaming from ear to ear, but instead she remained hunched over in her chair, idly bouncing the tip of her pencil against her desktop, lost in thought. Across from her, Clark Kent cast surreptitious glances at her as Perry parked himself at her desk, unfolded the newspaper and quoted: “… after years of seeing the worst humanity has to offer, after saving us from ourselves time and time again, after seeing us living down to our lowest expectations of each other, I simply cannot say what Superman wants for the holidays, but I can say what I would wish for him: that for once in our history of apathy and avarice, in our long struggle against each other instead alongside each other, I wish that for once--- if only for one day--- we could embrace the spirit of this season, and be the people that he sees, the people he wants us to be, the people he fights for and believes in. What do you give a man who has everything? A day off.” There was a spontaneous smattering of applause, led by Perry himself. Lois acknowledged it with an uncharacteristic humility, waving away the attention. Perry let it continue for only a moment before he said over it: “Alright, people, that’s enough. We have a Late Edition to put out, so get back to work. “Nice job, Ms. Lane,” Jimmy Olsen set a cup of hot chocolate down on Lois’ desk, grinning broadly. “My pal’s going to love this!” he said as he hurried after Perry, who was calling for him. When they were gone, Lois looked over at Clark and asked, “Do you think he’ll see this, Clark?” Clark Kent set down his copy of the Planet, looking bemusedly at it. “Oh, I’d count on it, Lois. I don’t see how he could miss it. All of Metropolis is talking about your article.” Lois nodded thoughtfully, and began tapping her pencil on the desk again. ~S~ “Surrender, Superman! You will never defeat King Kosmos!” The bulky behemoth towered over Superman, fists poised to smash downward. Superman caught the descending blow one handed, and he swung his other arm up into a crushing uppercut that sent the hirsute cosmic barbarian crashing backward across the blasted alien landscape of their battlefield, the third moon of Joxum. The insectoid people of the lunar mining colony cheered as Superman took a moment to catch his breath. He waved back at them with a relieved smile: King Kosmos was stirring slowly in the wreckage of the hover-cart he’d smashed into, making pitiful noises. The distress call had come into the Fortress of Solitude from Joxum, a planet in the Ar-Kalian Star Cluster, where Superman had a few years earlier befriended a race of gentle ant-men who had aided him in destroying a large comet of Kryptonite heading towards Earth. He had told them if they ever needed him, all they had to do was activate the distress beacon and he would come. So when would-be intergalactic conqueror King Kosmos invaded, subjugating the planet and two of its three moons, they called--- and Superman came. But he had hated leaving Earth and Metropolis unprotected. Was poor Shockwave the opening gambit in Luthor’s new assault on him, or just a wild shot in the dark? Nor could he stop thinking about Lois’ article. It had touched him, not just what she had written, but that she had read him so accurately. He had been disheartened. How long would he have to strive against the worst of humanity’s impulses thrown against him, how much longer would he have to save them from themselves? Would they ever learn? He didn’t often allow himself to think like that: he loved being Superman, indeed he could be nothing less. The melancholy had lasted only a few moments. What he really remembered was the look on Lois’ face, the heartfelt sincerity of her words as one soul reached out, yearning to understand and console another… The glancing blow from behind caught him off guard. He whirled around, shaking off the energy blast that had shredded his cape. Descending from the sky was a garishly-clad figure much like the still-woozy King Kosmos, only this one was younger, with longer hair, and carried a Braalian magno-hammer. The new arrival glowered down at Superman and said, “You may have found my father an easy match, Kryptonian, but you’ll rue the day you tangled with Kid Kosmos!” Superman rolled his eyes and tossed back the tatters of his cape. This was going to take longer than he had first thought… ~S~ It had been a strange day. Lois was all but alone in the newsroom, amidst the leftovers of the Planet Christmas party, most having gone home long ago; only one or two of the cleaning crew remained, and the lights had been dimmed. To say it had been a slow news day was an understatement. It usually did quiet down around the holidays, but nothing came in that day, at all. Perry had been the first to notice it, thinking first that the wires had broken down, or the telecom system was on the fritz. But a few quick calls to the police precincts, hospitals and fire departments all told the same story: nothing to report. At first, Lois’ reporter’s instincts told her something was up--- how could this be? No purse snatchings? No domestic squabbles? Not even a car accident or a kitty up a tree…? This had to be a statistical impossibility. And unless there was a chimpanzee typing out the Complete Works of William Shakespeare somewhere, she wasn’t buying it. Then the letters started flooding in. And the emails. And the phone calls. Mostly from Metropolis, but from all around the world, too. All in response to her article. And it was all the folks at the Daily Planet could do that day to keep up with it. “Listen to this one,” Jimmy had read to them a post from the paper’s website: “Dear Daily Planet, a few years ago Superman saved my life. I used to live in Suicide Slum, and I had fallen in with a bad crowd. We had just knocked off a liquor store when Big Blue cornered us. I didn’t go to jail because I was underage, but I got probation and put on work release: the judge made me clean graffiti off the streets for eight hours a day, five days a week, for a year. At first I was hassled by other gang members, who kept me busy cleaning their signs off neighborhood walls. Then one day I noticed that I was being watched, though I suppose ‘watched over’ is a better way of putting it. That first time, he shared a pretzel with me, and we just talked like normal people for a few minutes before he had to go save the world or something. The gangbangers stopped coming around, and eventually I was able to clean up my streets. I don’t have to do it anymore, but I still do. In fact, I started a street-cleaning company that employs neighborhood kids, and together we’re transforming Suicide Slum. He still comes around every Friday afternoon. He likes mustard on his pretzel. I would do anything for Superman, and I know I’m not alone. Thanks for the great article.” And the outpouring did not stop there. A spontaneous movement had begun on the internet the day the Planet had published Lois’ article, involving people from every city in the world, to “give Superman a day off!” It called for everyone, young and old, rich or poor, to do their part--- if only ever for this one day--- to watch out for each other, to do good, in short, to be like Superman. And that, Lois Lane supposed, was what had happened. Sighing in contented, bemused disbelief, Lois Lane left the darkened newsroom, nodding cheerily to the cleaning crew and entered the gilded elevator. As the doors were closing, she glimpsed a familiar sight out the 38th floor’s window, and instead of pressing the button for the ground floor, she went to the roof. He was there, standing with one foot on the crenellated roof’s edge, under the world-famous and softly illuminated globe of the Daily Planet, gazing out in wonder at the brightly lit city. Taking in his slightly worse-for wear appearance, she quipped “Rough day at the office?” “I was off-planet,” he told her, glancing quickly from her and back out over Metropolis. “I was gone all day… Lois, what’s going on out there?” Sidling up next to him, she admired the panoramic rooftop view of the city. “I guess you are.” He looked a question at her. “It’s the most remarkable thing. You’ve touched so many lives. So many people are inspired by you. This is their Christmas present to you.” “Are you telling me there’s peace on Earth?” He asked, incredulous. Lois smiled crookedly. “I wouldn’t count on it lasting very long. We are a deeply flawed race.” Superman laughed, and Lois could only hear genuine joy. In spite of the cold, she felt a warmness in her chest when his hand slipped into hers. “You did this. It was your article---.” She cut him off firmly. “No. This belongs only to you, Superman. You’ve shown us that great good is possible. You’ve given us something to strive for. And today, you just may have made us all better people.” That last was pushed out though a growing lump in her throat. Superman could only stare at her wide-eyed, a profound humbleness on his open, honest face. After a moment, all he could manage was a softly-spoken “Thank you.” Lois nodded and squeezed his hand tightly, leaning into his body. She rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for several minutes, enjoying that singular sublime moment, as Metropolis and the world bustled peacefully below them. After a while, Lois sighed. “Of course, it is slightly ironic that you were gone most of the day, fighting space villains by the looks of you.” Superman rubbed his still aching chin where Kid Kosmos had gotten in a lucky shot. “I wasn’t going to point it out. It’s the thought that counts.” “No, I like it.” Lois averred in mock appreciation. “Adds a little O. Henry-type twist to the whole thing.” Smiling ruefully, he asked, “Well, Ms. Lane, as it looks like I have the night off, would you like to have dinner with me?” “I thought you’d never ask…” ~S~ “… and all around the world that day, it’s said, there was no crime or villainy, and every man, woman and child honored Superman in their hearts and by their deeds. And for the last thousand years we have commemorated that day which came to be called Miracle Monday, when Superman showed us that it is possible to be as good as you could be--- even if it’s only for one day a year.” Wynn Allon slowly closed the storybook on his lap, and looked over to his wife Marta. Between them, their son Gim had fallen into a happy slumber, a smile lingering on his young face. “He never gets tired of hearing that story,” Marta Allon whispered to her husband, the small family basking in the low, warm glow of the nearby Menorah. “He always says he wants to be just like Superman when he grows up… To fight the never-ending battle, too. Maybe he’ll go into the Science Police Corps.” “Happy Miracle Monday, my dear.” Wynn Allon leaned over their son to kiss his wife. “Happy Miracle Monday, darling.”
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:21:24 GMT -5
“Yes Timothy, There Is a Santa Claus” Starring: Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl Written by: Brian Burchette Edited by: Charles HoM Perched high above the Gotham City Skyline, Tim Drake, dressed in his evening uniform of red and green, surveyed his surroundings as the first snow fall of the season rained down gently upon the city. It seemed to him that even the snow, white as it was as it fell from the sky, couldn’t make it to the streets below without being tarnished by the city that he lived in. Dressed in his Robin attire, Tim leaped from one of the many gargoyles that adorned the older buildings. The young man free fell for several stories before shooting a line from his grappling gun. He allowed his momentum to carry him across the gap between the two buildings, releasing the cord at just the right moment so he could land perfectly on the roof that was kitty corner from where he had just been. Crouching, a big grin crossing his face, he admitted to himself that he still got a high from what he had just done. It was a feeling he hoped he would never get used to. It wasn’t the only reason he was feeling joy this holiday season. Bruce was back! It was a Christmas miracle that had reminded him of all that he was lucky to have in his life. After the death of his father, he had found himself spending most of the holiday reflecting on all he had lost in his life; this year was already better. Still, with all he had to be thankful for, he couldn’t deny the sense of loss for things passed. Not only his parents, but the life he once had... the friends he had made. Sure he was going to Gotham High, playing the part of the dutiful student, but with all of his extra-curricular activities, he really had no time for a social life. Even if he had, what was he going to talk about? ”Hey Tim, did you see Marcie at the dance last night? She was looking hot.” “Sorry, wasn’t there, but you should have seen the way I took out Black Mask. It was a real rush, you know what I mean?” Nope, wasn’t going to happen. While his mind raced with his personal thoughts, his body had been continuing its journey across rooftops, swinging between skyscrapers, leaping from building to building. So lost was he in his thoughts that it took him a few seconds to realize he had wandered farther south of the city than he had planned. Not a good thing. Both Bruce and Dick would be wondering where he had disappeared to by now, and he hadn’t planned on going so far from the party they were throwing at Wayne Tower. He had just needed to get out and get some air, away from the tuxes and formals. Away from all the adults. Turning to head back, knowing he was already in trouble, he made another leap back to the previous building he had been on; genuinely surprised when he miscalculated and began to plummet towards the ground. Training had taught him not to panic, though, as he pulled out his grappling gun, taking careful aim, and squeezing the trigger just as he felt himself being grabbed by the waist and propelled sideways at a much higher rate of velocity. He panicked just a little. “Don’t struggle, buddy, I gotcha.” The young male voice next to him said. Still holding the grappling gun, its roped end flapping in the wake of the flying figure, Tim turned his head to see the dark haired teenager who was soaring through the sky with him. He recognized the black shirt with the red S immediately. “Superboy?” “The one and only, and you’re Robin, the Boy Wonder – pleased to finally meet ya. You’re welcome for the save, by the way.” “Yeah, uh, I was doing okay by myself, thanks, and I don’t really use that Boy Wonder tag line. That was the Robin before me.” “The Robin before you? Wasn’t he like the first Robin?” “Actually no, interesting story, really: It turns out... WAAAHHHHH!!!!” Tim cried out in shock as the wayward grapple finally connected to the corner of a building which caused his to suddenly be jerked out of Superboy’s arm and sent him hurdling back like a bullet towards the sandstone wall. “Oops!” Conner said but never lost his momentum when, with a quick turn, he shot after Robin and grabbed him before he had become something akin to a bug on a windshield. “Sorry about that.” “Not entirely your fault, but could you do us both a favorite and stop for a second.” Just like that they stopped, hovering nearly a half a mile over the city of Gotham. This, Tim found, was almost as disconcerting as the feeling of flying; way cool, too. “What are you doing in Gotham?” Tim asked. “Uhh, long story, but basically I was forced to come here for some boring party which I ended up ditching as soon as I could.” Robin had barely put two and two together when a female voice echoed up to them from the street below: “Get out, everyone, while you still can.” They both looked down to see a young girl, her blond hair seeming to shine like the sun; a stark contrast to the gray hues of her surroundings. Her red t-shirt was just as bright, bizarrely reminding Tim that this was the Christmas season. “Whoa!” Superboy whispered in awe. “She is gorgeous!” Suddenly both young men were conscious of the fact that Conner’s arm was securely wrapped around Tim’s waist as they hovered there. “You think maybe we should... uh...” Robin motioned down towards the blond girl. “Oh yeah.” Superboy agreed and before Robin could blink they were on the ground. The two boys found themselves in the middle of a holiday nightmare as people were running everywhere, screaming hysterically. Robin was the first of the two to see what they were running from. Three giant nutcrackers were marching down the Gotham streets, destroying parked cars and the sides of buildings in their path. “That’s not something you see every day.” Superboy noted out loud before turning to the young woman. “Hi there, my name is Superboy, what’s yours?” Cassandra Sandsmark was bracing her feet the best she could as she continued to hold up the side of a McDonalds. She looked at him with amazement. “Really? You want to do this now?” “Yeah, probably not.” Conner agreed. “Alright, let me help you here.” Putting his arms next to her, using the power that had been granted to him by a benefactor that he had hardly known; they were able keep the wall up until the last of the patrons had scattered. “Where did those things come from?” Robin wondered out loud. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” The girl said. “Going to make sure they don’t go any farther, though.” With that she shot into the air, her left arm stretched in front of her and her right one tucked close by her waist. “I’m with her!” Superboy shouted as he took off after her. Robin watched as the two of them began to pound into the nutcrackers, causing the metallic monsters to begin popping nuts and bolts towards the ground. There was something about the giant robots that seemed familiar... something he had read... a while ago... “So now you want to tell me your name?” Superboy asked as he slammed his fist into the side of one of the nutcrackers, causing it to waver. “My real name... no... But I guess you can call me Wonder Girl if you want.” “I didn’t know there was a new Wonder Girl on the scene.” Conner replied, striking blow after blow to the misfit toy. “It’s a secret... Wonder Woman doesn’t know yet, either. Now do you mind, I’m focusing here.” She said as she pounded her own robot hard in the face. “They’re slowing down, but we’re not really stopping them. Got any ideas?” “Really big walnuts?” “Hey, where did that other kid go?” Cassie scanned the ground but saw no sign of Robin. Superboy frowned. “No idea, but that is kind of weird. Alright, I’ve got an idea. Full speed... high and low. Which do you want?” “I’ll take high; with that haircut of yours I’m guessing you might want the down low?” She gave him a wicked grin as she soared into the crisp night air. “What does that mean?” Conner wondered as he flew off in the other direction, hovering for a second to catch his bearings as well as gauge Wonder Girl’s direction. Nodding, they took off from their perspective areas, each of them striking the same pose with their arms stretched out in front of them, fists clenched tight, even the same look of determination on their faces. They struck with the power of two ton trucks. The nutcracker ripped apart at the waist, exploding with pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere. Both kids stopped short, realizing their error as hundreds of pieces of metal began to rain down onto the Christmas shoppers. Their inexperience hindered them from instantly leaping to protect the innocent, but to their amazement, the shrapnel was suddenly swept up by a huge cyclone of air, all of it landing neatly in a pile at the end of the street. “What was that?” Wonder Girl asked. Conner shrugged. “No idea, but that was tits.” “What do we do about the other two? We can’t do the same thing, and they are both heading towards Wayne Tower and the party.” “Hey! You were at the Christmas party too?!” “Uhh, I mean, you know, this isn’t the moment to have a conversation.” Cassie looked around. “You could fly them out of here.” He scratched his head in thought. “Yeah, but where do you want me to take them too? Out to sea, you think?” “Well, that would be a start. We’re going to need to find out where they... hey!” Wonder Girl realized the final two nutcrackers had stopped moving. Standing tall and motionless in the middle of the street, they looked almost regal. “Guess that’s that, then.” Superboy said with satisfaction. “Now where did Robin run off too?” “Right here.” The other two turned to see him coming down the street with a bound and gagged figure that Conner recognized from Metropolis. “Toyman?!” Robin nodded. “Yep, I knew I’d seen those robots before when I was going over Batman’s files. Once I figured out where they came from, I figured he was after something, having come all this way from Metropolis. Those things had to be a distraction for something else. So I searched for any worthy news items and came across a charity event where they plan on auctioning off issue number one of Sergeant Patriot. It’s worth almost half a million. Sure enough, he was there trying to take it.” Cassie and Conner stared at him for a moment as he gave them a most innocent look. “Yeah, we figured that out too.” Connor finally said before turning back to the nutcrackers. “So what are we supposed to do with them?” “Anybody got some really large walnuts?” Tim asked. Conner grinned, giving him a wink. “Nice. Guess we should take Toyman in before we go our separate ways.” “It’s such a boring Christmas party.” Robin sighed, nodding at the other two’s realization that they were all going to the same place. “By the way, I’m Tim.” “Wassup Tim. I’m Conner.” “Cassie.” The blond girl announced with a small wave. “You know, it’s still early and since it sounds like we’re all heading back to the same place, maybe we could stop off and do something else on the way?” Tim shuffled around. “I’m not sure. The right thing to do is head back before anyone sends out a search party for us.” “You always do the right thing?” Wonder Girl asked him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Well... yeah.” “Oh Timmy, Timmy, Timmy.” Superboy said with a chuckle as he wrapped his arm around his Tim’s shoulder. He gave Cassie a wink. “I think our new friend here needs to loosen up a bit. What do you think?” She giggled in response. “I think this is turning out to be the coolest Christmas party I ever didn’t go to. So after we drop this guy off, what you guys say we find some more crime to stop. I mean this is Gotham. We just have to turn the next corner to find it, right?” Walking down the street between Wonder Girl and Superboy, Robin couldn’t help but smile to himself. He was a rich kid this year; two Christmas miracles in one year. How did he get so lucky? “Hey, Tim?” Conner started as they walked down the snowy streets, the Christmas lights blinking around them. “What is a down low?” “Excuse me?” Tim choked out. “Hey look, isn’t that the Robinson Park Christmas Tree over there?” Cassie asked, quickly changing the subject. Tim looked at up at Conner who had forgotten his question to try and find a tree that didn’t exist. He broke out laughing as he hoisted Toyman over his shoulder. Two blocks back, another young man watched the three of them leave. He was cold, lonely, and his auburn hair was matted down by the wet snow. He had wanted to go up to them, to say hello, but he was afraid... he couldn’t. He thought about turning around, going the other way, but that wasn’t how he was built. He went on his impulses, and this one told him to follow them. As soon as the thought raced through his mind he did just that; disappearing in a flash. The End
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Post by starlord on Dec 15, 2009 22:20:37 GMT -5
'Twas the Sivana Before Christmas (A Tale from Earth-S) Written by Don Walsh Edited by: Samantha Chapman “Hee hee!” cackled the World's Wickedest Scientist. “I, Thaddeus Bodog Sivana, have come up with the greatest comeuppance for that...that...Great Christmas Ham in the history of vengeances!” The bald-headed, shriveled peanut of a man practically danced around the odd contraption set on a tripod in the fluffy white snow. It hummed softly, small blinking yellow and green lights indicating the steady flow of power within the metal box. On top rotated a small mesh dish, and transmitter pointed skyward. ”Father, I wish to let you know that I have alerted Captain Marvel to this scheme,” spoke the feminine voice through her father's earpiece. “Oh so what? Even with his speed, he can't get here in time to stop me from flicking the switch that will begin my Epidermal Mythomerger,” Sivana shouted back with a sneer, and a sudden stop of his frolic. “And I must say, Beautia my dear, that I am less than thrilled you've found some way to evade my new anti-Red Cheese motivators in your programming.” He reached over and flicked the switch. “But too late!” Just then came a whoosh and the sudden appearance of the World's Mightiest Mortal. Captain Marvel's small black eyes looked down at Sivana, muscled arms crossed over the red-garbed barrel chest. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. All this over an annual box of coal?” he chided his arch-foe. “Too late! Too late, Marvel! Even if you stopped my machine, the commands have entered the ether! You can't stop it! Only I know how to reverse it!” He cackled again and poked his finger into Captain Marvel's chest, and then grunted in pain as he bruised the fingertip. “All those fools dressed up in their monster Krampus costumes will become the real thing!” ”Father! How could you? Captain, please, Krampus is a fun festival game, but if the mythomerger truly makes the costumes turn their wearers into creatures, they'll become horned monsters determined to punish whoever they imagine as naughty! Switches used to spank children worldwide!” Beautia reported in great concern. Captain Marvel laughed and let the machine run. “Really? Well then, I'm just going to stand here and let Sivana have his way this time.” “What? What are you up to? Didn't you hear my daughter? Santa's partner, turned into a genuine terror? Tarnishing his compassionate, charitable reputation? In this day and age, it will never recover, ever!” Sivana snapped back with his mouth set in a frown. “Why aren't you trying to stop it?” “Well, honestly, because I'm going to need to stay here for your sake, you snake,” Captain Marvel said, and held his hand up. He counted off, a finger curled into his palm with each second that passed. Sivana watched, and wondered, then his eyes widened behind the thick round lenses when he heard the noises in the distance. Hoof beats tramped through the snow, switching sounds floating through the cold night air, gleeful malevolent chuckles filtering into the scene. “Oh...no...” “Oh yes, Sivana. Sure you don't want to reverse your machine now?” Captain Marvel asked with a grin as dozens of Krampus creatures poured in, all with their birching sticks, all charging for the most evil of mad scientists. “Let's face it, who else would attract these creatures more then you, the World's...” “Yes, I think we have that established, you...you...Big Red Cheese!” Sivana said as he turned to his machine, tore open a panel and quickly reconfigured the wiring, all the while crying out from the occasional lash on his scrawny behind. “There! There...go away!” he demanded as he started the machine again, and the monsters turned back into confused costumed people. “Now to get to work,” Captain Marvel said as he used his speed to return the people to their homes. When he returned to the scene of the crime after the last poor soul had been brought back, he sighed. “Merry Christmas, you twisted maniac. I'm sure I'll see you again.” Sivana teleported into his room and tossed the failed machine into a corner with a scream of frustration. ”Father, while you were gone, he came! Look!” Beautia said as she used her robotic limbs to display the new external hard-drive she'd been given. ”And your present is over here.” She indicated the ribbon-wrapped high-grade lump of coal on his bench. “Bah! Humbug!”
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