DC2 Showcase Issue #3

7

The night resounded with a metallic clatter as a trash can was knocked against a wall by a terrified Vic Stone as he ran through the rain, tears streaming down his cheeks. He ran like he had never run before but unlike before he felt no rush. No thrust of adrenaline powered him down the road. His body was different and he had lost the weakness that made him human. He had lost the very barriers that needed to be broken in order to really compete. He was too good for himself. He wasn’t and never would be human again. And knowing this he crashed through the bleak, stench laced alleyways of a forgotten neighborhood.

After almost an hour he stopped running. Vic found that he was still breathing steadily and was not gasping for air. Although this realization didn’t faze him, not as much as having his arm transform into a gun. He stopped because he could no longer recognize where he was. He had wandered back alleys and tripped through indescribable atrocities before, for reasons that he wishes never to think of; but here he feels alone. Here he feels out of place. He continued, however, in the same direction only now he is walking rather than running. As he walked he took in the sights around him however nothing was truly visible as all was coated in a heavy sheet of shadows that his eyes would not penetrate, at least not to begin with.

<INFRARED SENSORS INITIATED>

Everything lit up around him with an eerie red glow, light and dark were detectible in different shades of soft or intense red. He walked steadily now and no longer truly shocked by each new ability he found his body had. He had quickly discovered a solution that explained his new body and from then on he was not fazed by himself. He knew now what had happened on that operating table. He had worked out that it was not simply drugs that the surgeons had used to alter his body. But still, he could not work out why. Why him? As he walked, the red light around him gradually became intense and looking up the air was flooded with a ghostly red that engulfed everything so that he couldn’t see clearly.

<INFRARED SENSORS OFFLINE>

He found that what he was looking at was in fact a lamppost. The new senses, no matter how incredible, would take some time to master, he thought to himself, and possibly longer to work out what they all were. And then as if his very own curtain call a scream, presumably female, echoed up to him from an alleyway. A choice now was upon him, was he to run and hide himself, act as though he was still Victor Stone, ex-track star or did he do what he had just been weighing up in his mind? Vic carried on walking. He walked past the alleyway where the noise had blatantly come from and carried on, his eyes shut tight as he tried to mask his thoughts. He tried not to see the image of his mother looking shamefully down on him. The scream came again but this time Vic knew what must be done. He turned and ran into the alleyway and said out loud:

“Initiate civilian defending proto…thingy!”

<CIVILIAN DEFENSE PROTOCAL INITIATED>

For the second time that night his arm was replaced by a radiating weapon of solidified liquid metal.

“That’ll do nicely.”

8

Vic stood before the wooden door that led into that steel prison that was currently home. Behind those doors, in the house somewhere was the man responsible for destroying all things he loved and now he had to tell him that he needed help. He had to tell him that the doctors he paid to save his life had turned him into some kind of Cyborg. Vic took the handle in his hand and twisted it slowly with dread. He opened the door and for a minute stood alone. When he called out his father’s name however no one replied. He walked further into the house and called out again and as he did so something sharp stuck into his arm and he felt a liquid pumping into him. He instantly collapsed and colors began to melt and collide until there was nothing but blackness; and the pain was gone.
When he finally came to he found he was once again strapped to a hard metallic table. He blinked once…twice…three times as he adjusted to the light. He felt weak…physically and mentally. He wanted to scream and lash out and attack whoever was around him, except he couldn’t see anyone yet. Then they came floating over him; hands. Hands just like before. Just like when he last found himself on a table…the time that changed his life. That turned him into something else. Quickly the question that had plagued him over the last few days. The question that had haunted him…why had they chosen him? Faces appear. Faces hidden in green latex. Masks over their mouths. Just like before. Except for one face. It loomed over Vic’s docile frame. The face was pale with dark brown, unkempt hair and wild bristles. A familiar face. The face of his father.

“Hi, Vic.” He said calmly. Vic wanted to leap from the table and rip out the twisted S.O.B’s throat, but he couldn’t.

“You did this didn’t you?” Vic asked in a dozy hum. Whatever had knocked him out in the first place had obviously restricted him from getting angry. Some kind of sleeping drug.

His father simply nodded in reply to his question so Vic asked another.

“Why?”

“Vic, you know I told you that you survived the accident at the lab.” At the mention of the accident Vic wanted to cringe but couldn’t he simply tried to nod. “Well, you were seriously injured and we had to use some break through technology to…rebuild you.”

“What else did you do? What about the voices? Was that you?”

“Yes, son. I’m sorry you had to go through that but it was necessary so that you would not be overwhelmed by the upgrades we made.”

“Why, couldn’t you just fix me up?”

“Son, you were almost dead….”

Vic repeated his question. “Why didn’t you just give me back what was missing? Why the gun arm? Why everything?” his voice was still calm however, only due to the drugs.

“I…I can’t. I’m a scientist and if we could improve…”

“I was a guinea pig!” He father had no reply. After a few seconds Vic remembered that the hands were hovering over his body. “What are you doing now?”

“We planted a chip at the stem of your spinal cord that would restrict the functions of your new implants so that they would only be active in serious conditions; as I assume you have experienced due to your introduction to your new arm. See this was originally designed to be a military project so some of the basic functions are still in place as we didn’t have time to remove some of the more complex…”

Vic had stopped listening. “You put something in my head to control my body.”

“It was necessary to stop you hurting yourself or anyone else.” Everything seemed to be necessary. Vic knew the truth. His Dad couldn’t resist turning his good for nothing son into his greatest experiment. Vic however still was unable to express his pain and hatred.

“Dad.” Vic asked again. “What are Mennonites?”

“What?”

“Deploying Mennonites?” Vic replied, quoting the ‘voices’.

“...Oh you mean nanites? Nanites are the microscopic mechanical machines that run through your cybernetics body parts much like blood does through the rest of you. They can collect and construct at incredible speeds due to the vast numbers and are what can transform you arm into that weapon you experienced. They also help construct certain programmed disguises. Currently they will only create a disguise that makes you look….less unique.” Here he paused. Vic knew what word he should have used. He should have said ‘to make you look normal.’

“Anyway. We are now removing that chip as we think you will be able to handle it on your own. There will be no more restrictions, nothing but you controlling yourself. You will be able to control everything you do like any other person.”

“No more voices?”

“No more voices. However as the basic programming is still there you also have the choice to verbally override your functions so that the new implants will not do anything unless you verbally command it. This was originally set in place in case an enemy override system was installed into the military equipment. It was the militaries idea of insurance.”

“You work for the military?”

“No. The U.S government came to S.T.A.R labs asking if a project could be commissioned and offered a hefty sum. However I still own rights to the technology so I was able to save your life with it.”

“What will happen to me? Do I belong to the government? To you?”

“Vic, you are you and thus you are a free man. Rest now and when you wake again everything will be fine.” Vic knew that wasn’t true. He knew he would never be fine again and he knew his father’s use of the technology to revive his dying son was nothing more than another great obsession with science and his job. Nonetheless Vic closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep…thanks to another injection. And indeed when he awoke things were not fine.

10

Vic had managed to catch a cab, literally just outside his door. He had grabbed a wad of cash from off the counter and ran down the stairs not even thinking to lock the door. He had rushed straight into the back of the taxi and given his the name of his destination before he had even noticed the driver. When he did calm down a little, he saw the driver was Puerto-Rican in origin, shaved head small goatee and dreary old clothes. A taxi driver would make plenty of money in this neighborhood, not like the hood were he used to hang with Romeo, the two cents people paid ‘round there was to get out of the slums and the drivers accepted whatever they were given. This trip might cost a little more, the driver might make an honest buck or two.

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio, friend?” Were the first words the driver spoke. He sounded friendly, sounded like a man who was happy with his life. Vic doubted he would ever sound that happy. He just shook his head instead.

The radio flicked on and made various wiring and buzzing noises with brief interjections of crackling words before the driver found the station he wanted.

“Traffic report. You wanna be on the other side of the city, no? Then we gotta know the fastest way, see.” He said turning to wink at Vic.

The radio was poor and only fragments of sentences were picked up:
<…South side of city heavy build up…traffic back for…rumors that a fight…Superman busy taking out…don’t head this way if…work on time.>

“Good thing we headed north then, huh?”

Vic just smiled. However, the report had made him feel slightly better. He was glad Superman was distracted. This way he had Romeo all to himself (if he was there) and this also meant Supes wouldn’t be there to stop Vic from doing…whatever had to be done. This was his fight and for once he wasn’t taking the easy route out. The next bit of news confirmed something else:

<…Headed North…okay though…apparently something may…at Afg…Embassy…police received call…presumably a prank…traffic clear for now.>“That’s were you wanna go, ‘kay?”

“Yeah.” Vic answered because now he knew Jetson was there. Now he knew that this was real and he knew that this time there was no going back because this time he was responsible and now he could do something about it.

Once out of the cab, Vic Stone raced into the foyer of the giant skyscraper that he knew housed the Afghani Embassy. He raced across the clear black marble floors disregarding the wet floor signs and skidded straight over to the receptionist. She was tall and slender with jet-black hair that came to her shoulders. She had perfectly pressed black clothes and perfectly filled nails…the whole aura of perfect was shattered however by the chomping of the gum in her mouth.
“I need to get to the Embassy.” He demanded.

“Do you have any kind of appointment?” She asked…Vic really hated receptionist he just decided…this being the first one he’d met.

“It’s urgent!” he cried.

“Unless you have an appointment…”

“Someone is gonna blow up the embassy. Terrorists will blow up the Embassy!” his voice was layered with enough panic for her to start becoming unsettled. She reached for the phone and started to dial, all the time her eyes were on Vic.testing him, judging him. She dialed:

9-1…

Vic pressed the button and stopped the call. “Listen. This is serious but don’t involve the cops. Just tell me what floor the Embassy is on.”

The receptionist wasn’t budging.

“Young man, if you don’t leave I’m getting security again and then calling the cops and don’t ever try scaring me with all that terrorist crap. You know just as well as I do that if there were terrorist Superman or some other hero would know sooner than some street urchin and already be here!” At this point Vic concentrated all his focus into his left arm and watched as for the third time it become something other than human. He stared into the eyes of the receptionist and said calmly: “Superman’s out to lunch.” He got the floor number.

He had got four levels up in the elevator before a revelation struck him. He didn’t tire. He knew this from the other night and nonetheless was taking an elevator that was probably slower than him. He quickly got out and in less than five minutes Vic had powered up another thirty-two flights of stairs. It had also got him excited enough to really want to bring an end to this all right now.

Momentarily everything around Vic seemed to stop…then the air started to rush by and he truly knew he was going to die. Vic realized he had leapt from thirty-six stories with no means of saving himself or the people below and he was pretty sure the bomb wouldn’t stop when it smashed against the sidewalk…along with him. His brain seemed to be working at such a high speed that things seemed to almost move in slow motion. Obviously whatever Vic’s father had done to his mind had made him function as fast as…well…as a machine. Options shot through Vic’s mind…possibly solutions but only one outcome seemed possible based on Vic’s current knowledge: he would die. Suddenly it hit him…he could no longer think of options that would work so then he would need not to think.

“Voice recognition override!” Vic shouted to the whistling air. However he had no way of knowing if it had worked so he continued with his plan. Vic didn’t know what he could do besides the gun and infrared eyes and a few other gadgets but hopefully by shouting random solutions one of them would have to work.

“Activate wings.” He screamed aloud but the howling wind quickly whipped the words from his mouth before he could even here them.

“ACTIVATE WINGS!” he shouted louder this time, just managing to here it trailing off into the sky. Nothing happened.

“INITIATE ROTARY BLADES!” Again nothing. So he defiantly wasn’t used form military plane or helicopter technology.

“ACTIVATE PARACHUTE.” Nothing.

“ACTIVATE BALOONS!” He was getting desperate.

“ACTIVATE HELICOPTER BEANIE.” Really desperate, and gravity showed no signs of relenting. Vic’s mind was rushing so fast that he had time to calculate a thousand things that could happen and still they all involved him dying.
He looked up and saw a silhouette standing in the shattered frame of the window stories above him. He squinted in the sunlight and concentrated all his focus to make out the face. There was a mechanical whir and he felt his left eye tingle and suddenly he found he was looking straight at the face as though the eye had some kind of zoom lens. The shock made him twitch and this caused him to twist and falling face the other way, towards the ground. And as his focus changed his vision returned to normal but he had seen the face. The smirk spread across it. It was Romeo.

“Jetson.” He growled through his teeth. But no sooner had words left his mouth, his feet erupted and flames consumed his souls burning away his shoes and singeing the rim of his jeans. The hurtled him towards the ground at speeds he had never thought possible. The blast, wherever it had come from, was rocketing him to the ground and this time gravity was on the losing side, as the flames were doing its job infinitely better.
Suddenly things hit him like a brick wall. Options changed now. He now had a library of knowledge on him self that started to make sense. His brain started to list them before he could even think:

∙ His left arm transformed into an energy projection weapon.
∙ His left eye had both zoom and infrared functions.
∙ The left side of his faces was undamaged by a punch and also seemed to have no nerves sensors
∙ He could run at fast constant speeds without tiring for some time.
∙ He could release jets of flame from his feet

That was it…jets. He’d said Jetson but the voice override initiated as ‘Jets On’. This reminded him:

“DISENGAGE VOICE ACTIVATION.”

His brain had processed this fast enough that he was still falling but the ever-present sidewalk was coming to meet him fast. The information his hyper-activate brain synapses had just formulated left him with an option he could cope with. He continued to plummet and waited just for the right time. “A little closer…a little closer.” He mutter to himself and then:

”NOW!” Literally inches above the ground he maneuvered his body so that he was parallel to the sidewalk. However, he lost his balance and hit the ground but was still propelled by the jets of flame from his heels as he shot across the road. He had twisted himself in time so that the left side of his body scraped across the asphalt, tearing his clothes and ripping away artificial skin that up to this point had had not known to be artificial. His metallic ‘skin’ was also sending sparks flying behind him and he gripped the bomb close to his chest with his right arm.
Planting his hands on the floor and swinging himself around Vic violently attempted to dodge the oncoming traffic. He succeeded but only in time to see a more threatening opponent looming before him. A wall. The brick layered foe kept barreling towards him, or rather he towards it and soon he was left with only one option left other than plowing straight into it. Vic allowed his face to be propelled across the sidewalk and through strew litter and various other things left by passers-by…and their dogs. He ticked away the seconds mentally.

3-2-1…

“NOW!” he screamed aloud. As he did so he planted his hands of the floor and pushed his body upwards so that he was parallel with the wall and was pushed upwards by the perpetual flames.

For hours, it seemed, he was scrapping that metal and steel obelisk with the side of his face. He felt no pain in the left side of his face but still the wind alone was enough to make him clench his teeth into a tiring grimace. He rocketed gradually up the never-ending plane and felt insects collide with his face…he heard the diminishing noises of cars far below him screaming to a halt and he heard to the fastening ticking of the bomb.

The bomb! He had almost forgotten he was holding it in his arms. H had almost forgotten the very reason he had fallen from a thirty-six-story building. Vic clenched his teeth and with every ounce of mental will still in his body he willed the jets to amplify. There was what could almost be called an explosion as a great upsurge of devouring embers stretched across his legs. He climbed the swelling thermals and rocketed over the lip of the roof and in an instant he found himself.

The jets subsided and he was sailing through the rippling clouds. There was no noise up here, just peace. His troubles drifted off with the birds and he found for the first time he was truly free, no restraints or shackles holding him down just the endless sky stretching before him. He could fly, he was actually soaring with the birds and it was the greatest experience he had ever felt. The only noise here was the whistling of the wind and the steady tick of the…

“CRAP!” Vic passed the explosive into his left hand and used all of his cybernetically enhanced muscles to launch the weapon into the sky. Unfortunately he too was still traveling upwards and it took him a few seconds to realize this. Swiftly however a single thought cut the jets and he plummeted back to the very earth he had just felt so free to leave. He fell just as before though this time he was too close to the roof, he assumed, to perform any kind of life saving maneuver.

Suddenly the air was torn as a giant blast sent ripples through the sky and pieces of burning debris falling to the earth like ting flaming snowdrops. The explosion knocked the falling teen and sent him spirally out of control towards the level cemented roof, Vic had no choice as to what direction his limbs would flail. He didn’t however hit the roof, instead he clipped the lip of the building and twisted himself just in time to grip it with the iron grip of his left hand, his life literally resting in his very fingertips.

11

The wind whipped his dreadlocks into a frantic dance and the clouds slipped in between his fingers as he sailed through the golden evening sky. Returning home, Vic found that to fly sure beat paying a guy to drive you. However it wasn’t a pleasant journey. The drive there had flooded Vic’s mind with adrenaline and planning, now there was no plan. No hyper-functioning brain telling analyzing every option. There was just him and his all too human thoughts. He would have to confront his father, he would have to tell his father how he had been invited to become a hero and how he would prefer to live with these fantastical strangers rather than remain with his own flesh and blood.

He knew that what waited before him, the life he would chose would ultimately decide the person he would become. But in his head he knew that stopping Romeo had been something more profound than he had known. He had to make a decision and now he had a clear idea of what it would be. He convinced himself that the decision he would make would turn his world into a new place of hope and wonder and that from this point on his life would be one of better himself. From now on, he told himself, life would be good. If only he had known what would happen next.

Vic touched down in an alley several blocks from his father’s apartment so as not to draw attention from the neighbors. He walked the fifteen minutes to the house contemplating on how to tell his father that he despised him. Lacing his hand onto the silver staircase he climbed up the looming steps until he came to his father’s apartment, one of many three stories, up market attached house that ran along this neighborhood.

He stopped outside the door with his eyes closed and meditated on the next words to leave his mouth. He reached for the door handle, still with his eyes closed, and twisted the handle but something was wrong. Opening his eyes he found the door was already open slightly. It didn’t make sense. As a scientist Vic’s father was a stickler for perfection and was very firm on security, Vic’s father was not one to let his ethos corrode (however shoddy his morality already was.)

Vic warily stepped into the doorframe and looked around. All the lights seemed to be out and only the golden glint of sunlight seeping through cracks in the pulled down blinds bathed the floor of the spacious sitting room. Everything felt wrong; maybe his father knew. Why did he think his father wouldn’t know, the whole thing must have been broadcast on every TV station in the States? Vic called out hoping that his father would answer and hoped even more that he hadn’t been watching the news. There was no reply. Vic called again and waited, this time he heard something, a muffled moan or sigh from the other room. Vic rushed in and what he saw made him almost sick.

Lying slumped on the floor was his father and as he approached him he saw the man’s neck was twisted around and there were no signs of breathing. Vic fell to his knees before his father and could do nothing to hold back the tears. Through the sobs Vic frantically flipped his father onto his back and with a sickening crack twisted his head back to its correct position although the bones no longer held it firm. Vic screamed like a mad man to try and awaken his father but his cries could not stir a dead man. He tilted back his father’s chin, lightly pinched his nostrils shut and placed his lips on his fathers and breathed heavily. He then pressed his clasped hands onto his father’s chest but it didn’t work. He tried again and again and again, his pace quickening each time and the tears streaming down his cheeks. He pounded his linked hands against his father’s neck until he heard the sickening crack of the ribs beneath his metal arm.

He fell backwards and rested on his knees staring at the lifeless thing that lay crumpled before him. How many times this week had he wished to see this scene and now it was true he didn’t know what to do. This was the man who had effectively killed his mother and turned him into an inhuman monster but the emotions collided inside him and all he could do was grip his father body and cry and cry and cry until he could cry no more.

Slowly a realization hit him. Someone had done this to his father and that person could still be here. A floorboard creaked behind him and spinning around he leapt to his feet just in time to be smothered in a foul smelling liquid…gasoline. Vic recoiled and when he looked back he saw Romeo standing in front of him with an empty red petrol can in his hand. Vic lost it. He grabbed Romeo by the throat with his left hand and slammed him into a wall and gave him a left hook. He released him so that he could slump to the ground. Romeo began to crawl away from the menacing figure towering above him behind Vic’s left arm, now transformed, and was pointing straight at him.

Coldly Vic asked, “Give me one reason….”

The reply was simply and cutting “Because I’m innocent.”

“No one’s innocent Romeo.”

“Damn right.” With that Romeo swung open the huge metal door that was now in front of him, a reinforced door that led to his father’s small laboratory. And as he slid the door shut he tossed a lit match to Vic’s feet and the whole world set on fire. Inside the whole door was rocked by a colossal tremor and heat made the door too hot to touch. Romeo waited for the door to cool and for the sound of crackling and falling debris to stop before he opened it and ventured into the blackened wasteland.

Everything was layered black and flames rose from every angle thanks to the gasoline he had coated the house in before Vic had returned. He suddenly spied his old friend piled on the floor, his left side facing towards him, glowing amber as it reflected the flames. Romeo stood inside the well-vented, air-conditioned compression room between the large blast proof door and the second door into the lab. He watched his handy work, watched Vic’s life burn away before him and saw that it was good. He was more than proud of himself. More than pleased watching Vic….until he stood up.

Romeo walked back aghast and hit the second door when he saw his old friend rise up out of the ashes. A layer of what looked like metal liquid flooded his body and when it resided into Vic’s skin he was left without a scratch. Slowly Vic searched the room and finally laid eyes on his quivering would-be assassin. Romeo wanted to run, he wanted turn and open that lab door and lock himself in, even if he had to die in there it was better than facing whatever it was that Stone had become now.

He looked at his old friend with growing terror, the only signs that he was still even Vic was the right side of his face is right arm and part of his right torso; besides that he was some kind of black Terminator. Romeo couldn’t move, couldn’t run he just sat there slumped against the door…petrified. Vic advanced and gripped Romeo by the shirt collar lifted his to above head height.

“Why?” Vic’s question was sincere but Romeo found no words came to his lips.
An anger unlike anything he had ever known burnt within Vic. All he could think of was destroying Romeo. Maybe he should have been stronger. Maybe if he had more self-discipline he could have handed Romeo over to the police. But even Vic wasn’t that strong. Vic felt something swell up inside him and he knew he had power. He knew there was something else in him, some weapon that had been built into him far greater than just the gun his arm could turn into but as he didn’t know what it was he had to release this power another way.

“Voice override.” He said to no one and then added a phrase that sounded scientific enough that it might provoke him to respond. “Maximum security threat. Take offensive strategy.”

As he said that, he knew the nanites were collecting to construct another latent part of his cybernetics. He felt his chest almost breath and a metal plate slid away and as he looked down he saw that there was now a glowing red almond shaped…something between his pectoral muscle and the robotic replacement on the left side. Vic then looked up and stared into Romeo’s eyes with nothing but disgust.

“Initiate.” The glowing almond orb flooded Romeo in a brilliant crimson light that didn’t touch his clothes or the wall around him…only Romeo. Vic continued to watch as the light intensified and steam began to seep from Romeo’s pores and watched his friend gasp for breath and try to scream. He watched as his once friends dark skin blackened and continued to watch as the steam escaped from every possible orifice as the water inside Romeo’s body heated at an incredible rate. And then it stopped. Romeo’s body froze and then broke apart into a thousands particles like dust and then each particle fizzled away in a red spark. It was over. He was finished. Vic fell to his knees again, still gripping Romeo’s shirt and let the tears run down his cheeks.

He had emotionally worn himself out but the tears flooded his face. Vic crawled on his hands and knees through the charred remains of his house…searching in the blackness for something he desperately needed. He touched something metal and picked it up. It too was black and unrecognizable so he brushed off the dirt and soot and revealed a small glass panel on the ‘T’ shaped metal object. He pressed the single button on the side of the object and the screen sprang to life. Quickly the image of Kid Flash appeared.

“Wally, here.”

“Kid Flash?”

“Oh, hey Vic. How ya doing?” Vic wiped the tears from his face with the back of his human hand and sniffled.

“Vic? Are you okay? Did you need something?”

“Yeah…” Vic asked, “When can I begin?”

The end?

Nebiros towered over Daniel Patrick Cassidy who just seconds ago was driven to the ground by the monster. Marla Bloom, Sharon Scott, and Norm Paxton stood there seemingly unable to move as Nebiros eyed them curiously.

“Which of you called me to this place?” He spoke as he stepped over Dan Cassidy barely giving him a glance as he continued to eye his potential victims, less then ten feet in front of him.

“What is going on Marla?” Norm Paxton, the principle photographer, uttered as he began to slowly take a step backward, “This thing! What the hell is this thing?”

“Hell?” Nebiros growled, “Hell is where you will all spend your final days…as you slowly digest in my stomach!” An unearthly sound came from the creature as he began to laugh.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Marla began to cry as she tripped and fell onto her backside. “It wasn’t supposed to be real!”

Sharon who had remained silent up to this point began to scream as the large bulky creature made his move toward her. She closed her eyes as Nebiros opened his large mouth to reveal hundreds of sharp teeth and long slithering tongue. There was a large thud as the creature fell face first on the ground just inches away from the trembling Sharon. She opened her eyes to see Dan Cassidy in the Blue Devil suit holding his trident into the back of the creature.

“Who brings a book to a dance?” Dan said as he reached up to adjust the headpiece on his custom.

“Dan!” Sharon yelled as she realized what had just happened. She jumped up as Dan pulled the trident out of Nebiros back and stepped over him.

“Dan I…” Marla began to say as Norm reached down to help her up.

“I don’t care right now Marla. Lets get out of here before this thing wakes up.” Dan said as he grabbed hold of Sharon arm and the group began to move quickly toward the exit of the movie lot. Dan hurt all over and was mad and confused. But his only concern right now was getting as much distance between them and whatever that creature was back there.

The ground beneath him rumbled and Cassidy turned as Nebiros stomped toward him. Marla and Sharon were already through the doorway and Norm paused and looked back at Dan.

“Go!” He ordered Norm, “Get them as far away from here as possible!” Without hesitation Norm took off and Dan closed the door behind him. He turned and with trident in hand stood there as Nebiros stopped and looked over at Cassidy.

“I was unaware that there would be another here looking to feast, little blue…devil.”

It was then that Dan finally realized that he was still in the Blue Devil suit. Was it possible that this creature thought that he was a real demon?

“You came here to feed?” He yelled through the voice amplifier in his mask. “I found the humans first. You will just have to go back where you came from now.”

“It doesn’t work like that brother. This you must know.” Nebiros stated, “I was called here by one of the humans and I won’t leave until I have fed on her bones.”

He must have been referring to Marla. What did she do? Dan slowly began to put the pieces together. Just a short while ago Marla causally let him know that it would be Wayne Tarrant in the lead role of the Blue Devil movie and the only work he would see on the picture would be from this suit that he wore. But then she came running onto the set, disrupting some still shots claiming that it all went wrong. She and Wayne were together and…My God! Did they call this creature up in hopes that he would grant wishes like a genie? Dan wasn’t aware that such creatures existed outside of the Saturday afternoon matinees. He did know that he had to find a way to get rid of him then he was going to find Wayne Tarrant and kill him!

Epilogue One:

The Underworld-

Nebiros stopped screaming when he hit the ground with a thud. He slowly raised his head up when he heard a voice speak from the throne in front of him.

“Such screaming from the…how did you put it? Ah yes, Nebiros ruler of a vast empire in the dark world.”

“Many apologies my Lord. You know how I get when I am around humans. I wasn’t aware that you were watching.”

“You weren’t aware of many things it seems. You weren’t aware that you were dealing with a human and inadvertently empowered him with energy that didn’t belong to you.”
The demon prince spoke as he looked down onto the trembling Nebrios.

“I am sorry my lord. Allow me a chance to redeem myself.”

“No. You have done enough damage for one day. And as for being sorry…yes you will be very sorry, as will Daniel Cassidy. Leave me now.”

“As you wish Lord Neron Caesar.”