Post by HoM on Sept 18, 2009 5:57:51 GMT -5
“Do you like playing with toys? I do.”
A yo-yo twirled in front of the face of bank manager, Charles Sherman, who rested on his knees, staring up at the figure speaking to him. The man in front of him was short, wearing a dark purple sweater vest with a red bow tie neatly knotted at his collar. A large mask resembling a doll head with an everlasting smile covered his face.
“The yo-yo is one of my favorites. Such a fun little toy.” The masked man said, his voice child-like. “It’s so simple but you can do so many things with it.”
The yo-yo coiled back up into the palm of his hand and Sherman stared up at his visitor in terror. Shadows wheeling out large bags of money slipped by behind Sherman who continued to peer fearfully at the yo-yo.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sherman’s pupils shifted upward to look into the cold, unmoving smile that was pasted onto the mask. The yo-yo came down again, this time spinning only inches away from the bank manager’s nose.
“Do you like to play with toys?”
Action Comics
Issue Forty-Five: "Toy Soldiers" Pt.1
Written by Pat Owen
Cover by Joe Jarin
Edited by House Of Mystery
Edward Lytener sat at his desk, fiddling with a pencil while he stared at the story on his computer screen that talked about current status of stem cell research. It hadn't taken him too long to write the entire story and now he found himself with absolutely nothing to do.
“These are the kinds of days that you miss having Lex Luthor around.” Lois Lane, who was sitting at her own desk a short distance away, said. “At least there’d always be interesting stories.”
“I’d rather have boring days than Lex Luthor running the city.” Clark Kent said, seated at his desk across from Lois.
“Well, you’re used to boring days, Smallville.”
Clark peered up from behind his bull-rimmed glasses.
“Why’s that?”
“You grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere. How more boring could you get?”
Clark pushed his glasses back up his nose, shrugging. He couldn’t argue with what seemed like the truth. If only Lois knew that his life was far from boring. Perry White’s office door burst open and he stuck his head outside of the entrance. His face was red and veins were protruding from his neck, looking incredibly anxious.
“We just got a call from the Corner Street Bank, people. They were robbed by the Toyman!”
“Toyman?” Clark said, his blue eyes gazing up from behind his glasses.
“Isn’t he dead?” Jimmy asked through the mutterings and rumblings of the office.
“Yes.” Lois said suddenly and all eyes fell upon her, including Perry’s. “I wrote that story like a week ago, remember, Chief? Winslow Schott was found dead in his hospital bed after being in a coma for months.”
“And you’re absolutely sure he was deceased?” Perry questioned her.
“I have the police reports and everything, Chief. Schott was dead as a doornail.”
“Well apparently, his ghost is haunting banks. Lane, I want you and Kent to go to Corner Street Bank and find out as much about this as you can. Then get back here once you have some information. We need to have this slapped onto the front page of tomorrow’s paper.”
“He used this yo-yo like a weapon to get past the security. Then he went after the tellers. He only talked to me for a few minutes before he struck with me with the yo-yo.”
“And what did he say to you?” Lois asked.
“He just wondered if I liked to play with toys…then he knocked me out.”
The bank manager was standing in the lobby of the bank with Lois and Clark, while police officers investigated the scene, speaking with the tellers and security guards.
“He was wearing this mask, a rather disturbing one, of what looked to me to be a doll head. It covered his entire face.”
“Anything else you can remember about him?”
“…Well, he sounded like a kid if that means anything.”
Lois scribbled down some notes on her pad while Clark scanned the lobby.
“And what made this, exactly?” Clark pointed to the West wall which had an enormous hole through it, as if a bomb had gone off. Security tape stretched across it as people walked by on the sidewalks outside.
“That’s where that car drove through.” The manager said but seeing the reporters’ curious expressions continued. “There was this car, a real big one, that drove into the wall. It was like this great big race car. And when I say big, I mean it. Twice the size of a tractor trailer…at least.”
Clark and Lois walked up to the opening in the wall, looking at it closely.
“The car crashed in, and these metal claw things came out of it, taking the money from the vault.”
“Was Toyman in it?” Lois asked.
“No. It came just before he did. I’m not sure if he left in it though. I was kind of... unconscious.” The manager stifled a weak chuckle.
“Well that’s helpful.” Lois said irritably. “Did they catch any of this on your security cameras?”
“No, our power was cut before that car came.”
“Well I’m going to need a little more than-“
“Lois!” Clark said and Lois turned to him, confusion on her face. “Thank you for your time but I think we’d ought to be heading back to the Planet…right, Lois?”
Clark gently took Lois by the arm and walked with her toward the door, leaving the baffled bank manager to his business. After they were out of earshot, Clark glanced over at Lois who was taking deep breaths.
“Sorry. Reporter mode was kicking in. Tends to happen when I don’t get enough information on a story like this.” Lois sighed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll recover.” Clark said, a thin smile on his face.
“Is that a hint of sarcasm I’m picking up, Smallville?” Clark merely shrugged, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the streets. “Well you have to admit though that he wasn’t making it easy for me to keep my cool. He met Toyman, came face to face with him, and he couldn’t even give us more than that?”
“I actually thought he was quite informative.” Clark said
“Yeah? What did he tell us besides what we already knew? We already had assumed that this wasn’t Schott and from how he described this Toyman, that’s now a fact.”
“He told us about that car.”
“He did but not much. We don’t know anything about the car besides its extremely large and is like a race car. We need details about it. Details.”
Concrete flew through the air in a wave of debris as an enormous car crashed through a building down the block from where Lois and Clark were walking. Clark stared down the street in horror while citizens ran in a frenzy away from the vehicle which was now racing down the street into the distance, slamming through the other cars in the streets with little effort.
“That detailed enough, Lois?” Clark asked, already running towards the nearest alley, loosening his tie.
“Yea-- hey! Where are you going!?”
“To find a phone to call the police.” Clark called back.
“You do that, Smallville. I’ll get a jump start on the story. Taxi!”
Clark sprinted into the alleyway, while Lois closed the door to the taxi. In seconds, the majestic image of a man soaring through the air, a red cape flowing behind him, filled the sky.
Superman flew past skyscraper after skyscraper, observing the wreckage below. In a navy and crimson streak, he zipped down onto the sidewalks, lifting up every flipped car and putting them upright in the blink of an eye. He made sure everyone was alright and only found minor injuries. In seconds he was already back into the air, the street cleaned up and the damages repaired.
It wasn’t Flash fast, but the Last Son of Krypton was no pushover in the speed department.
He would prove that.
“This is going to be oh-so much fun!”
Giggles sounded from behind the everlasting smile on the puppet-like mask. The small man stood in front of a large table and on that table, replicas of all of the banks of Metropolis were standing on a large laid out map of the city. A strange looking track was sprawled out on the map as well, each part of the track going down a different street.
On a counter across from the table with the map lay was a set of monitors, all of which showed different blocks of Metropolis and on one of the monitors, the enormous car crashed through the street with a red and blue shape closely behind.
“Ooo-boy! Looks like we’re about to play a game of cops and robbers! I haven’t played that in a long long time! This should be a blast!”
The masked man ran along the table where the bank replicas stood and going down the track above 63rd Street on the map was a hot wheels car; an exact duplicate of the gigantic car that was barreling through the real city. The man placed two fingers on the hot wheels car turning it onto the track that went down 65th Street and sure enough, the monster of automobile on the monitors turned down the very same street.
“Fun, fun, fun.”
Superman soared above 65th Street, repairing as much damage from the car as he could while still keeping up with the destructive vehicle. He took in a deep breath and let out a blast of freezing air from his lungs when he passed by a flipped oil tanker that was on fire while also speeding down onto the street to fix downed cable wires in a blink of an eye.
The Kryptonian hero launched through the sky, seeing the juggernaut car knock the cars in its path into the air. Superman shot past the windows of dozens of buildings, of dozens of scared workers, dozens of innocents who were at great risk if this kept up.
Superman caught up with the runaway machine with uncanny agility, swooping ahead of it, turning his entire body around to face the oncoming automobile. He put his arms out in front of him and when the car made impact, he grabbed hold of its hood with both of his hands, lifting it off of the ground.
The cars’ wheels spun furiously while the Man of Steel held it completely off of the ground, repositioning his hands underneath it. Slowly, he rose into the sky, the automobile raised above his head.
The masked man watched in horror from his hideout while his machine ascended further through the clouds. He put his face up to the monitor and plastic karaoke machine microphone.
“That’s cheating!”
Superman glanced up at the underside of the car, raising an eyebrow. He squinted hard for a second and suddenly he was staring into the wires and inner workings of the vehicle. He could make out the shape of a small speaker on the inside, complete with a tiny camera.
“You obviously don’t understand how to play the game!” The same child-like voice shouted from the speaker.
“This isn’t a game, ‘Toyman’.”
With his unmatched strength, the hero smashed his fist through the car, grabbing hold of the camera. He ripped it out of the car, holding it firmly in his hand and then threw the destructive Hot Wheels car as far as he could, watching it burn up as it left orbit.
The everlasting smile on the mask remained but the face underneath was filled with contempt. The man slumped back in his chair, rewinding the now static-filled screen to the last image it had received.
“It’s not a game.”
Rewind.
“It’s not a game.”
Rewind.
“It’s not a game.”
The man ground his teeth together, gazing at the confident and strong jawed face of the man as he spoke those terrible words.
“Not a game, Superman? We’ll see about that.”
“Vengeful spirit? A bit of a stretch there…”
Edward Lytener leaned against Lois’ desk, the front page of the paper in his hands with a picture of the damage to the bank accompanying it.
“I don’t think so. There’s a whole group of readers who are into supernatural twists. Sure, it’s not really my forte, but I think it works here.” Lois said matter-of-factly.
“If you say so… hey, wasn’t Clark with you, though?”
“He went to go find a phone so I could chase the story but never came back here…” Lois said, just noticing Clark’s disappearance.
“He’s probably interviewing the witnesses who saw that car joyriding through town. Caused a lot of damage from what I’ve heard. Lucky the Big Blue boy Scout was there.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Looks like the media has finally caught onto you.”
“Really, Slade? And why do you say that?”
Deathstroke crouched ominously on the pillar above a man donning a jester outfit. His body however, seemed to be entirely made of wood, each limb clattering along with every movement he made. This puppet-like jester also went by the name of Toyman.
Deathstroke tossed a folded newspaper next to Toyman who’s head clicked ever so slightly to the side at the sight of the headline.
“You believe this to be me, do you, Mr Wilson?”
There was a brief pause.
“No. But I’m interested in seeing your reaction.”
“You expect a reaction from me? My deepest apologies but I’ll have to disappoint you.” Toyman said.
Deathstroke rose to his feet.
“You killed Schott to prove that you were the real Toyman, right?”
Toyman creaked his wooden head a little.
“Correct.”
“Then why should this man be any different?”
“And why do seem to care so much?” Toyman questioned.
“Because I know a few things about honor. And when someone wishes to take the name you’ve tried so hard to gain and smear their own mark all over it…is not something to take lightly.”
Toyman remained silent, looking back to the front page of the paper while Deathstroke chuckled smartly through his mask.
“Thought so.”
“And how am I to find this imposter then?”
“You really don’t give me enough credit.”
“Preston’s Toyland Emporium.”
“Cool name for a toy store.”
Clark Kent was sitting at the rather old looking computer in the living room of the farmhouse he grew up in, with Conner casually sunken into the cushions of the couch, watching TV.
“When I X-rayed this,” Clark held up the small camera. “I found that name labeled on the inside.”
“So this Toyman guy does his weekend evildoer shopping at a toy store…is that supposed to be surprising?”
“I looked up the history of the Emporium and it says here that it went out of business a few years back…when Winslow Schott first turned to crime. But surprisingly, that wasn’t the most interesting part.”
“Oh?” Conner shifted his attention from the TV screen to Clark.
“The man who owned Preston’s Toyland Emporium was-“
“Preston?”
Clark looked up from the rims of his glasses to find Conner with a wide grin on his face.
“I’m right, right?”
“His name was Preston Schott.”
The smile on the doll head mask shone brightly while the man walked through the darkened aisles of the once very successful Toyland Emporium. Each step he took, passing by the shelves of intricate and beautiful toys brought back memories of the glory days for the store; the days when the marvelous toys seemed to give off a magnificent golden glow.
Aww, that golden glow of those wonderful toys.
But those days were gone. Gone like the primary inventor of those fascinating gizmos and gadgets but he and the store would never be forgotten…not ever.
The short man stopped, straightening his red bow tie which rested neatly at the collar of his sweater vest. There was strange sound in the air. He swung his masked head around, peering down the long rows of unmoving shapes and figures.
“Who’s there!?” The man hissed, pulling out a super soaker that he had filled with acid from the shelve next to him.
This man and his now late accomplice had transformed this once innocent shop into a market of death where almost every toy was lethal. Where they had once been jack in the boxes, there were now exploding pattleballs.
“Who’s there!?” The man repeated in his child-like voice as the noise drew closer.
The sound of clattering wood jingled through the aisles as the man crept through the store, aiming his acid filled super soaker around in caution. The store grew silent once more when the man came upon the puppet section of the store. Strings stretched down from the high ceiling and the man scanned the area for anything suspicious.
Suddenly, he came upon the sight of one of the puppet’s backsides, a life-sized puppet dressed in a jester outfit, with no strings attached to any part of its wooden body. The short masked man inched closer, his finger tightening on the trigger of his weapon.
“You seem to harbor quite the affection for toys.”
The man frowned beneath his plastic smile and his eyes widened. The puppet’s head craned completely around, now staring at the masked man. A smile crept across his wooden face.
“So do I.”
A yo-yo twirled in front of the face of bank manager, Charles Sherman, who rested on his knees, staring up at the figure speaking to him. The man in front of him was short, wearing a dark purple sweater vest with a red bow tie neatly knotted at his collar. A large mask resembling a doll head with an everlasting smile covered his face.
“The yo-yo is one of my favorites. Such a fun little toy.” The masked man said, his voice child-like. “It’s so simple but you can do so many things with it.”
The yo-yo coiled back up into the palm of his hand and Sherman stared up at his visitor in terror. Shadows wheeling out large bags of money slipped by behind Sherman who continued to peer fearfully at the yo-yo.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sherman’s pupils shifted upward to look into the cold, unmoving smile that was pasted onto the mask. The yo-yo came down again, this time spinning only inches away from the bank manager’s nose.
“Do you like to play with toys?”
Action Comics
Issue Forty-Five: "Toy Soldiers" Pt.1
Written by Pat Owen
Cover by Joe Jarin
Edited by House Of Mystery
BBBBRRRINNNG
Edward Lytener sat at his desk, fiddling with a pencil while he stared at the story on his computer screen that talked about current status of stem cell research. It hadn't taken him too long to write the entire story and now he found himself with absolutely nothing to do.
“These are the kinds of days that you miss having Lex Luthor around.” Lois Lane, who was sitting at her own desk a short distance away, said. “At least there’d always be interesting stories.”
“I’d rather have boring days than Lex Luthor running the city.” Clark Kent said, seated at his desk across from Lois.
“Well, you’re used to boring days, Smallville.”
Clark peered up from behind his bull-rimmed glasses.
“Why’s that?”
“You grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere. How more boring could you get?”
Clark pushed his glasses back up his nose, shrugging. He couldn’t argue with what seemed like the truth. If only Lois knew that his life was far from boring. Perry White’s office door burst open and he stuck his head outside of the entrance. His face was red and veins were protruding from his neck, looking incredibly anxious.
“We just got a call from the Corner Street Bank, people. They were robbed by the Toyman!”
“Toyman?” Clark said, his blue eyes gazing up from behind his glasses.
“Isn’t he dead?” Jimmy asked through the mutterings and rumblings of the office.
“Yes.” Lois said suddenly and all eyes fell upon her, including Perry’s. “I wrote that story like a week ago, remember, Chief? Winslow Schott was found dead in his hospital bed after being in a coma for months.”
“And you’re absolutely sure he was deceased?” Perry questioned her.
“I have the police reports and everything, Chief. Schott was dead as a doornail.”
“Well apparently, his ghost is haunting banks. Lane, I want you and Kent to go to Corner Street Bank and find out as much about this as you can. Then get back here once you have some information. We need to have this slapped onto the front page of tomorrow’s paper.”
* * *
“He used this yo-yo like a weapon to get past the security. Then he went after the tellers. He only talked to me for a few minutes before he struck with me with the yo-yo.”
“And what did he say to you?” Lois asked.
“He just wondered if I liked to play with toys…then he knocked me out.”
The bank manager was standing in the lobby of the bank with Lois and Clark, while police officers investigated the scene, speaking with the tellers and security guards.
“He was wearing this mask, a rather disturbing one, of what looked to me to be a doll head. It covered his entire face.”
“Anything else you can remember about him?”
“…Well, he sounded like a kid if that means anything.”
Lois scribbled down some notes on her pad while Clark scanned the lobby.
“And what made this, exactly?” Clark pointed to the West wall which had an enormous hole through it, as if a bomb had gone off. Security tape stretched across it as people walked by on the sidewalks outside.
“That’s where that car drove through.” The manager said but seeing the reporters’ curious expressions continued. “There was this car, a real big one, that drove into the wall. It was like this great big race car. And when I say big, I mean it. Twice the size of a tractor trailer…at least.”
Clark and Lois walked up to the opening in the wall, looking at it closely.
“The car crashed in, and these metal claw things came out of it, taking the money from the vault.”
“Was Toyman in it?” Lois asked.
“No. It came just before he did. I’m not sure if he left in it though. I was kind of... unconscious.” The manager stifled a weak chuckle.
“Well that’s helpful.” Lois said irritably. “Did they catch any of this on your security cameras?”
“No, our power was cut before that car came.”
“Well I’m going to need a little more than-“
“Lois!” Clark said and Lois turned to him, confusion on her face. “Thank you for your time but I think we’d ought to be heading back to the Planet…right, Lois?”
Clark gently took Lois by the arm and walked with her toward the door, leaving the baffled bank manager to his business. After they were out of earshot, Clark glanced over at Lois who was taking deep breaths.
“Sorry. Reporter mode was kicking in. Tends to happen when I don’t get enough information on a story like this.” Lois sighed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll recover.” Clark said, a thin smile on his face.
“Is that a hint of sarcasm I’m picking up, Smallville?” Clark merely shrugged, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the streets. “Well you have to admit though that he wasn’t making it easy for me to keep my cool. He met Toyman, came face to face with him, and he couldn’t even give us more than that?”
“I actually thought he was quite informative.” Clark said
“Yeah? What did he tell us besides what we already knew? We already had assumed that this wasn’t Schott and from how he described this Toyman, that’s now a fact.”
“He told us about that car.”
“He did but not much. We don’t know anything about the car besides its extremely large and is like a race car. We need details about it. Details.”
KRRRACKSHH!
[/b]Concrete flew through the air in a wave of debris as an enormous car crashed through a building down the block from where Lois and Clark were walking. Clark stared down the street in horror while citizens ran in a frenzy away from the vehicle which was now racing down the street into the distance, slamming through the other cars in the streets with little effort.
“That detailed enough, Lois?” Clark asked, already running towards the nearest alley, loosening his tie.
“Yea-- hey! Where are you going!?”
“To find a phone to call the police.” Clark called back.
“You do that, Smallville. I’ll get a jump start on the story. Taxi!”
Clark sprinted into the alleyway, while Lois closed the door to the taxi. In seconds, the majestic image of a man soaring through the air, a red cape flowing behind him, filled the sky.
Superman flew past skyscraper after skyscraper, observing the wreckage below. In a navy and crimson streak, he zipped down onto the sidewalks, lifting up every flipped car and putting them upright in the blink of an eye. He made sure everyone was alright and only found minor injuries. In seconds he was already back into the air, the street cleaned up and the damages repaired.
It wasn’t Flash fast, but the Last Son of Krypton was no pushover in the speed department.
He would prove that.
* * *
“This is going to be oh-so much fun!”
Giggles sounded from behind the everlasting smile on the puppet-like mask. The small man stood in front of a large table and on that table, replicas of all of the banks of Metropolis were standing on a large laid out map of the city. A strange looking track was sprawled out on the map as well, each part of the track going down a different street.
On a counter across from the table with the map lay was a set of monitors, all of which showed different blocks of Metropolis and on one of the monitors, the enormous car crashed through the street with a red and blue shape closely behind.
“Ooo-boy! Looks like we’re about to play a game of cops and robbers! I haven’t played that in a long long time! This should be a blast!”
The masked man ran along the table where the bank replicas stood and going down the track above 63rd Street on the map was a hot wheels car; an exact duplicate of the gigantic car that was barreling through the real city. The man placed two fingers on the hot wheels car turning it onto the track that went down 65th Street and sure enough, the monster of automobile on the monitors turned down the very same street.
“Fun, fun, fun.”
* * *
Superman soared above 65th Street, repairing as much damage from the car as he could while still keeping up with the destructive vehicle. He took in a deep breath and let out a blast of freezing air from his lungs when he passed by a flipped oil tanker that was on fire while also speeding down onto the street to fix downed cable wires in a blink of an eye.
The Kryptonian hero launched through the sky, seeing the juggernaut car knock the cars in its path into the air. Superman shot past the windows of dozens of buildings, of dozens of scared workers, dozens of innocents who were at great risk if this kept up.
Superman caught up with the runaway machine with uncanny agility, swooping ahead of it, turning his entire body around to face the oncoming automobile. He put his arms out in front of him and when the car made impact, he grabbed hold of its hood with both of his hands, lifting it off of the ground.
The cars’ wheels spun furiously while the Man of Steel held it completely off of the ground, repositioning his hands underneath it. Slowly, he rose into the sky, the automobile raised above his head.
The masked man watched in horror from his hideout while his machine ascended further through the clouds. He put his face up to the monitor and plastic karaoke machine microphone.
“That’s cheating!”
Superman glanced up at the underside of the car, raising an eyebrow. He squinted hard for a second and suddenly he was staring into the wires and inner workings of the vehicle. He could make out the shape of a small speaker on the inside, complete with a tiny camera.
“You obviously don’t understand how to play the game!” The same child-like voice shouted from the speaker.
“This isn’t a game, ‘Toyman’.”
With his unmatched strength, the hero smashed his fist through the car, grabbing hold of the camera. He ripped it out of the car, holding it firmly in his hand and then threw the destructive Hot Wheels car as far as he could, watching it burn up as it left orbit.
The everlasting smile on the mask remained but the face underneath was filled with contempt. The man slumped back in his chair, rewinding the now static-filled screen to the last image it had received.
“It’s not a game.”
Rewind.
“It’s not a game.”
Rewind.
“It’s not a game.”
The man ground his teeth together, gazing at the confident and strong jawed face of the man as he spoke those terrible words.
“Not a game, Superman? We’ll see about that.”
* * *
'A NEW TOYMAN IN METROPOLIS: COPYCAT OR VENGEFUL SPIRIT?'
'A NEW TOYMAN IN METROPOLIS: COPYCAT OR VENGEFUL SPIRIT?'
“Vengeful spirit? A bit of a stretch there…”
Edward Lytener leaned against Lois’ desk, the front page of the paper in his hands with a picture of the damage to the bank accompanying it.
“I don’t think so. There’s a whole group of readers who are into supernatural twists. Sure, it’s not really my forte, but I think it works here.” Lois said matter-of-factly.
“If you say so… hey, wasn’t Clark with you, though?”
“He went to go find a phone so I could chase the story but never came back here…” Lois said, just noticing Clark’s disappearance.
“He’s probably interviewing the witnesses who saw that car joyriding through town. Caused a lot of damage from what I’ve heard. Lucky the Big Blue boy Scout was there.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
* * *
“Looks like the media has finally caught onto you.”
“Really, Slade? And why do you say that?”
Deathstroke crouched ominously on the pillar above a man donning a jester outfit. His body however, seemed to be entirely made of wood, each limb clattering along with every movement he made. This puppet-like jester also went by the name of Toyman.
Deathstroke tossed a folded newspaper next to Toyman who’s head clicked ever so slightly to the side at the sight of the headline.
“You believe this to be me, do you, Mr Wilson?”
There was a brief pause.
“No. But I’m interested in seeing your reaction.”
“You expect a reaction from me? My deepest apologies but I’ll have to disappoint you.” Toyman said.
Deathstroke rose to his feet.
“You killed Schott to prove that you were the real Toyman, right?”
Toyman creaked his wooden head a little.
“Correct.”
“Then why should this man be any different?”
“And why do seem to care so much?” Toyman questioned.
“Because I know a few things about honor. And when someone wishes to take the name you’ve tried so hard to gain and smear their own mark all over it…is not something to take lightly.”
Toyman remained silent, looking back to the front page of the paper while Deathstroke chuckled smartly through his mask.
“Thought so.”
“And how am I to find this imposter then?”
“You really don’t give me enough credit.”
* * *
“Preston’s Toyland Emporium.”
“Cool name for a toy store.”
Clark Kent was sitting at the rather old looking computer in the living room of the farmhouse he grew up in, with Conner casually sunken into the cushions of the couch, watching TV.
“When I X-rayed this,” Clark held up the small camera. “I found that name labeled on the inside.”
“So this Toyman guy does his weekend evildoer shopping at a toy store…is that supposed to be surprising?”
“I looked up the history of the Emporium and it says here that it went out of business a few years back…when Winslow Schott first turned to crime. But surprisingly, that wasn’t the most interesting part.”
“Oh?” Conner shifted his attention from the TV screen to Clark.
“The man who owned Preston’s Toyland Emporium was-“
“Preston?”
Clark looked up from the rims of his glasses to find Conner with a wide grin on his face.
“I’m right, right?”
“His name was Preston Schott.”
* * *
The smile on the doll head mask shone brightly while the man walked through the darkened aisles of the once very successful Toyland Emporium. Each step he took, passing by the shelves of intricate and beautiful toys brought back memories of the glory days for the store; the days when the marvelous toys seemed to give off a magnificent golden glow.
Aww, that golden glow of those wonderful toys.
But those days were gone. Gone like the primary inventor of those fascinating gizmos and gadgets but he and the store would never be forgotten…not ever.
The short man stopped, straightening his red bow tie which rested neatly at the collar of his sweater vest. There was strange sound in the air. He swung his masked head around, peering down the long rows of unmoving shapes and figures.
“Who’s there!?” The man hissed, pulling out a super soaker that he had filled with acid from the shelve next to him.
This man and his now late accomplice had transformed this once innocent shop into a market of death where almost every toy was lethal. Where they had once been jack in the boxes, there were now exploding pattleballs.
“Who’s there!?” The man repeated in his child-like voice as the noise drew closer.
The sound of clattering wood jingled through the aisles as the man crept through the store, aiming his acid filled super soaker around in caution. The store grew silent once more when the man came upon the puppet section of the store. Strings stretched down from the high ceiling and the man scanned the area for anything suspicious.
Suddenly, he came upon the sight of one of the puppet’s backsides, a life-sized puppet dressed in a jester outfit, with no strings attached to any part of its wooden body. The short masked man inched closer, his finger tightening on the trigger of his weapon.
“You seem to harbor quite the affection for toys.”
The man frowned beneath his plastic smile and his eyes widened. The puppet’s head craned completely around, now staring at the masked man. A smile crept across his wooden face.
“So do I.”
