GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 5

 

In a world where everything was so big and loud, the museum was smaller than Percival expected. It reminded him of a Town Hall he had seen once. When they went through the double doors, Percival paused at yet another bewildering view. Glass cases with relics of the war filled the single room building from corner to corner. Uniforms, sabers, and guns were all on display from both sides of the conflict. In the middle of the room sat a cannon. Seeing it like that, was eerie in its silence. Percival wondered how many men it cut down on its journey to this resting place. For the Captain, it was literally yesterday that these things were active and in use. Now they were displayed with the wear, fading and rust of generations. Percival gazed at the ring on his finger and realized that, he too, was a relic. He wondered if soon he would show his age like these items around him.

“Welcome to the Civil War Museum,” said the heavy man behind the counter. He had a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip and thick glasses that made his eyes look bulged. “I’m Reginald. Is there anything I can show you?”

“Actually, there might be,” Vicki said. “Do you have information on officers who were in the war?”

“I have info on the major historical figures. If you aren’t looking for that, I have some files on soldiers who fought here in Louisiana. What’s the name?”

“Colonel Amon Le Fey,” Percival piped in.

“Le Fey, Le Fey,” Reginald repeated as he moved towards a filing cabinet. “Union or Confederate?”

“Confederate.”

Reginald pulled a thick book from the top of the filing cabinet and opened it on the counter. He leafed through several pages.

“Aha, there is a Colonel Amon Le Fey listed in here.”

“Great!” Vicki said. “What does it say about him?”

“It says; he led a regiment of soldiers away from the Battle of Irish Bend to engage incoming Union reinforcements led by Captain Louis Percival.”

Vicki shot a look of surprise to Percival who shrugged.

“It goes on to say it was a bloody fight that ended with the disappearance of both leading officers.” Reginald adjusted his glasses. “That’s easy enough to believe. A lot of soldiers went to unmarked graves back then; even officers.”

“Does it say anything else about Le Fey?” Percival pressed.

“Yes. It says he owned a sugar plantation a bit south of the battle site. That would all be dangerous swampland now.”

“That’s where I have to go. Thank you, Reginald!” Percival turned and walked out of the building.

“What?” Reginald looked after him dumfounded.

“It’s okay. He just does that. Thanks, sweetie.” Vicki followed Percival out to the car. “What are you going to do?”

“ I’m going the way my pistol pointed and Reginald said.”

“You know you can’t just go stomping through the swamp right? You’re going to need a boat or a pirogue; probably a pirogue.”

“What’s a pirogue?”

“A smaller boat for navigating narrower places in the swamps. Look, I think I know where to drive so we can get a look okay?”

“Alright.”

Percival didn’t want Vicki along too far into his dangerous mission. He didn’t want to endanger her. If anything happened to her, he doubted he could ever forgive himself.

They travelled back roads and lesser highways several miles south. The further they went, the thicker the surrounding wilderness became. They didn’t have to go far before any distant view was blocked out by tall cypress trees. Spanish moss hung long from branches and water shined between the bases of the trees. The sun barely shone through some places, making them dark and eerie. Finally, they came to a place where the only driving left was off the road. Swampland stretched out around them for miles.

Percival stepped to the edge of the road to survey his chances of passage. A small alligator splashed into the water and vanished. From where Percival stood, travel on foot was impossible. He could see he would be up to his waist in water with nothing to hold on to but cypress trunks. As he looked around, there were no paths available in any direction. Vicki stood not far behind him.

“Do you have any more of those gold coins?” Vicki asked.

“A couple, why?”

“I saw some shacks near an off road. Maybe someone there will let us use a pirogue.”

Percival nodded and they got back into the car.

The small community of shacks was built on posts over the water accessible by long elevated walkways. Vicki parked the car in a muddy lot with a couple of trucks and another car so they could walk to the wooden docks. The walkways were well built, thick and solid with heavy logs. Percival could tell right away that these were people who could live off their environment. Animal skins could be seen in one area but mostly there were crawfish traps and fishing equipment. There were several pirogues all around. Every shack had at least one and there were seven shacks in all. The shacks were made from various materials of wood and metal. Percival brought out the bundle that held his sword and pistol. Vicki had wrapped them in a small blanket.

The first man they came to eyed them suspiciously from rocking chair. He appeared as old as the swamp with leathery skin and calloused hands. He was thin and sinewy, but he didn’t look weak. When asked about a pirogue, he said nothing but pointed to a shack at the far end of the walk. As they followed his directions, they felt the eyes of the community watching them. They were watched with interest. One woman even came out of her shack to watch them. It was the kind of observation that made Percival and Vicki uncomfortable. Expressions on the people’s faces weren’t the welcoming kind.

Short Fiction: It's a Blitz! (Part 1)

Metallic clanking echoed up and down the street. It took its half of the road out of the middle. New York City traffic stumbled to halt as the big machine rolled into place. The treads bit into the asphalt tearing chunks loose and leaving a trail. Worried exclamations of people sounded all around, and horns blared. Small shops lined either side with patrons filling the sidewalks. Everyone stopped to regard the tank-like vehicle and its smooth shiny surfaces. It had no hatch, or visible weaponry and it didn’t move for several minutes as people gathered.

The police arrived and an officer started knocking on the metal hull.

               “All right, come on out.”

A whirring sound responded to him and panels opened on either side of the vehicle to reveal speakers. From the front and back even larger speakers rotated out from the hull. The speakers started to blast the opening to the song ‘Ballroom Blitz’ as more panels opened on the head of the tank. Large gun barrels protruded from five sides of the upper portion. People were already running at this point. As the song reached “All right fellas, let’s goooo” the guns began firing and the top of the tank rotating. The volume of the music could easily be heard over the blasting of the cannons.

Store fronts exploded into confetti sized debris. Most cars were below the line of fire, but trucks were cut in half. Light poles fell over like fresh mowed grass. People ran, screamed, or threw themselves to the pavement. The guns fired well above their heads, but debris still threatened to kill many.

When you can move at twice the speed of light, sound means nothing. There isn’t any. Electrode could see the paths of heavy caliber bullets lined up in the air. He could see people on the verge of being trampled as they fell under the panicked crowd. He had a choice to make. He could grab bullets or grab people. At his speed, he could collect all the bullets currently airborne and remove them. If he did, he would have to compensate for the speed of the bullets or risk blowing his own hands apart in the process. Where ever he moved them, they would still have their own velocity and direction to deal with. He could cancel that velocity for some, but not all. So, people it was. He had been told to remove the people anyway. After all, he didn’t come alone.

Electrode, with care for his own velocity against human bodies, removed everyone from close proximity to the death machine. He took them to the lower level of a nearby parking garage. There were enough large buildings between the machine and the garage that it wouldn’t be hit at all. While this task seemed to be done instantly, for Electrode it was a painstaking process of care and control. He could never forgive himself if he splattered someone’s mother all over a wall.

As the firing and music continued, Electrode’s partner watched the sidewalks clear of people so he could do his part. He floated in the form of simple air, unaffected by the enhanced bullets flying through him. They called Sandstorm the most powerful elemental in the world. Even with such a title, this would not be so easy. Buildings in close quarters and a sewer system with active gas mains provided complications. He couldn’t just command the street to uproot on the machine without collateral damage and greater threats. As it were, the bullets were about to cleave through close buildings and into the ones beyond.

A loud CRACK sound told Sandstorm that Electrode was in the fight. As the nuclear electric man, Electrode had more than just speed. He struck the vehicle with a powerful strobe of nuclear lightning.

 

               “That didn’t get through the hull! It’s insulated too well!” Electrode shouted.

               “I have an idea.” Sandstorm made his voice boom through the air.

               “Well do it quick. This song and destruction combo is getting annoying.”

               Sandstorm could manifest himself as any combination or elements or weather. He even made himself a giant at times of various combinations. He flew over the top of the tank machine and manifested himself as a giant humanoid of pure iron ore. He landed on the top swivel and grappled the cannons. The barrels twisted under him and a loud screeching noise sounded. Metal within the turning apparatus ground together and snapped as the sides blew out. The music slurred and stopped.

Still in his giant form, Sandstorm gripped the top of the tank and tore it off to see who was driving. He dropped the junked lid in disgust and turned back to a normal sized human being.

               “Fry the inside of that please.” Sandstorm said.

               “Who’s in it?”

               “No one. It’s a robot and I don’t want any surprises.”

               Electrode jumped up on it and melted everything within in a bright flash of power.

               “Who made this? The Raven?” Electrode asked about one of their worst enemies.

               “I don’t know. Raven usually tries to kill us, not everyone else. This isn’t like him.”

               “Professor Zombie?”

               “Again, why? Zombie wants to turn everyone into his hench-people. This doesn’t work for him either.”

               “Terrorism?”

               “That’s a possibility. There’s definitely a psychological approach to this with that song. Whoever did this, wanted to create a presence for themselves.”

               “Showmaster.” Electrode nodded. “This would definitely be like him, but who would be paying him?”

               “That’s the million-dollar question.”

(Yep, that's where this one ends, folks! Who is behind this bizarre attack? Be sure to follow for new stories, articles, and updates.)

No Trespassing (Blog fiction)

The great fan of the air boat roared in their ears as they sped across the waters of southern Louisiana. They held their guns ready for anything in their path on the way to the meetup. The buyer wanted sufficient tree cover in the swamp for the purchase. Lemmy didn’t like the idea but he had drugs to sell. A buyer’s eccentricity could be tolerated most of the time. The coordinates led to an arrangement of shacks on stilts over the water. No one lived in them. They were entirely for deals like this. They were meant to look like some swamp person’s little hideaway. Something people in those parts left alone on general principle.

“There. There they are. Pull right up to them.” Lemmy said to his pilot. He adjusted his tie and tapped a finger on his machine gun strapped over his shoulder. Two more boats of Lemmy’s boys followed them in.

Booker and his guys were in row boats and pirogues. They came out of a part of the swamps you couldn’t take an airboat through. He preferred using thick trees to cover his exploits and knew he was tough to follow. He smiled revealing gaps from missing teeth and the sun shined on his bald head. Lemmy and his boys were suits and ties. Booker’s were scrap shirts and jeans. Lemmy liked machine guns while Booker’s guys carried rifles and shot guns.

Lemmy gave a friendly salute as his boat came nose to nose with Booker’s.

“You think you could pick and uglier place to meet?” Lemmy joked.

“What? You don’t like the greenery?” Booker gestured in a wide sweep of his arms. “This is home. Don’t talk bad about my home now.”

“Take it easy. I’m just busting your balls. I got your order here. Two waterproof plastic crates of white gold, just like you asked.”

“Excellent. We have your money the same way.”

A loud and low growling sound echoed through the shacks and across the water. All the men did double-takes of their environment to see what did it. They saw nothing.

“What the hell was that?” Lemmy said.

“Probably just the rugaroo. Legends around these parts say there’s a monster. Oooooo. Ha. I don worry bout it none. It’s not real.” Booker laughed.

That’s when a shack exploded off its stilts and flew over their heads with a savage snapping of wood pillars. Lemmy dropped to his knees while two of his men went into the water. Booker fell off his boat with a splash. The beast in the shack’s place stood 14 feet tall and nearly as wide. It had the head of the biggest alligator you could dream of and stegosaurus plates reached up from its back. Gator hated evil in his swamp. The legends were true.

Gator had been watching Booker and his men. He knew these men were up to no good and in his swamp to boot. Ever since evil men used science to make him into a monster, he patrolled his swamp. Not even littering college students escaped his wrath. But he only scared those. These men needed more convincing. Gator was happy to oblige. With a whip of his thick powerful tail, he turned the shack he hid behind into a flying arrangement of kindling.

Men yelled in terror at the sight of him and opened fire in panic. It didn’t matter what kind of guns they had, the bullets were worth less than falling acorns. Gator let out a roar that rippled the water and pushed boats away. Then he charged into their midst. He snatched a rowboat out of the water with one enormous hand, flinging its occupants into the air. He threw that boat at one of the air boats, smashing both to bits. More men were thrown into the drink. Two were severely injured.

Gator didn’t want to kill anyone. He did want to make sure he left a lasting impression on these men to never come here again. Another whip of his tail capsized every one of Booker’s remaining boats with a powerful splash and wave of swamp water. Another stilted shack collapsed into so much driftwood garbage. In moments, only Lemmy remained on his boat and all others were trashed. Booker stood up in the water choking for breath.

Gator grabbed Booker up out of the water and put him on the airboat next to Lemmy. He took up both plastic containers of drugs in one huge hand and showed them to the men. Gator cocked his arm back like a professional baseball pitcher and threw the two containers out toward the Gulf of Mexico. The two shocked men watched as over a million dollars in cocaine flew out of sight into the distance.

Gator turned back to the men and roared in their faces as they screamed like children. Lemmy felt himself defecate.

Gator left them with one word before turning and lumbering away.

“GO.”

Before disappearing into the trees, Gator picked up some wreckage and threw it at the last standing shack, reducing it to splinters.

Now they knew the legends were true. Word still got around. It’s his swamp. No trespassing.

Update: Game Cards and Short Story Lineup!

Development continues for all things Galaxy Zento this fall! I do love keeping my roster full of fun things to do. I keep my personal deadlines fairly loose, but there is much to look forward to!

CUSTOM CARD OFFER: I have the artwork for two custom cards for owners of my board game. The special offer still stands until Thanksgiving. Anyone who purchases the Galaxy Zento board game is going to get their own personal character card that only they can play. The cool thing about this is that you can be pretty much anything or anyone you want to be for the custom offer. As you can see from the artwork, one person chose a ranger style elf and another chose a variation of the serial killer, H. H. Holmes. I'm not going to show you their stats but I will tell you this;

The ranger has a ranged attack of 10 spaces. When he get's played there will be no safe place on the board from him. Holmes will drop traps on other players whenever they come out of the main deck against him. It doesn't matter where those players are on the board either. That's just a couple examples of how powerful you could be. All of these customs will sport high character defense and abilities to use magic, making your character the envy of your gaming table. So if you are the kind of host who likes to worry or abuse your players, this is perfect for you. It won't guarantee you to win every game, but you'll sure play like a bad ass. Here's where to get it: LINK.  Note that the game is made print on demand but you should still get it in less than a month or near.

SHORT STORIES: I've been hard at work on the next book of short stories, GZ Tales Vol. 2. I've got a great lineup of killer tales. Keep in mind that they continue a history from Vol. 1 and other stories. They will also connect to future stories. Check out these titles:

London Fables: Explosive candy canes and a trapped bell tower are just the tip of the iceberg when Blacktide and Nyhtwulf to go London to stop a terrorist plot. London may never be the same.

Shadowplay: An invisible killer is practicing his craft on New York's homeless population. Anthony James and Panther Steele have to track down an alien psychopath before he ups his victimology.

Anubis and Horus at the Castle of the Demon King: He's the baddest villain that GZ will ever know and this is just his introduction. Brace yourself.

Brother Whale: The aquatic hero, Killer Whale is an alien to Earth and the last of his kind. When he discovers whale poachers, the kid gloves are off!

The Fight in the Dog: You're going to love seeing justice delivered to these creeps. The animal shape changing hero, Dolphin Man is called in to help stop an animal fighting ring. It's justice animal style!

That's just half the roster for what is going to be a blast of a book! If you haven't  dived into GZ yet, you still can! Just hit the link in the top right corner of this page to my Author's Page! Read the first three books in any order you want! You'll find the stories stand alone well.

COLORING BOOK: Yeah! A coloring book! Why not? I've already posted free coloring pages at the GZ Facebook page. But there's going to be a lot more than that to work with in the coloring books. I'm doing lots of touch up art to make it more worth your while too. Each book will be based on the history of the stories so you can almost follow along from them!

Plans are still moving for the first expansion to the board game that will introduce new characters, traps, and spells. They'll come with instructions for customizing your board game experience. Seeing artwork of multiple artists may also be possible here. The adventuring continues! All I can say for sure is to stay tuned as I continue to crank out the hits. I swear, there's too much going on in my head!

The Gator: No Littering

Joey G. crumpled the beer can and tossed it in the water off the side of the small boat. Marco watched it bob on the water with slight disdain. He knew he shouldn't have come along on this trip. Joey and Rich were friends but also idiots. How did he always let himself get talked into these things? Marco promised himself he would grow a backbone someday.

"Do we really have to toss them in the water?" Marco asked, knowing what the response would be.

"What's the matter, Marco? What do you care about some swamp?" Joey threw his head back for another long swig out of a beer can. He stole the alcohol from his father and they took the boat without permission. He thought this was the best place for underage drinking and smoking. "Besides, if I take the cans back with me, my old man will find out."

"You're a wet blanket, Marco." Rich said as he opened a can. "You aren't even drinking with us."

"I'll stick with my soda. At least one of us can be sober enough to find our way out of here."

"Well, we're going to sleep it off are your place when we do." Joey said.

"Why my place?"

"Because your mom is out of town, stupid. I can't go to my house stinking of beer can I?"

Marco didn't answer. Joey was a bully among other things. It wasn't a good idea to make him mad.

"Oh look! There's an alligator in the reeds! Wow, he's huge!" Rich said.

"He probably doesn't like us littering in his swamp." Marco mumbled.

"So what?" Joey crumpled his second can and threw it. It bounced off the alligator's nose with a light metallic sound. The creature narrowed its eyes, but that went unnoticed. "What do you think of that?"

The hulking form that rose from that water was beyond any alligator the boys had ever seen. It rose an easy ten feet above them all to its full 14 foot height. Water cascaded from its body in loud splashing. Only the growing growl was louder. It had arms and legs like tree trunks, rippling with powerful muscle. A long powerful tail erupted form the water and waved back and forth behind it. From its back were high armored plates like those of a long extinct dinosaur; the stegosaurus. The broad head could swallow a groan man's torso whole and it opened to prove its size. The growl ended with a sharp inhale of air before the blasting roar pressed the boys flat into the boat and blew all their hair back.

As Gator roared in their faces, the boys screamed like death was imminent and wet marks appeared on all their shorts. As the echoing thunder subsided and the great mouth closed, Gator turned his attention to the tiny bobbing aluminum can. He scooped it up, engulfing it his giant clawed hand. With a light thrust he bounced the can off Joey's head. All three boys already shook in terror. They flinched and screamed. When they stopped screaming, Gator pointed at the other floating can.

"PICK.... UP....."

Joey looked at the can and back at Gator. "Oh.. uh...yeah. Pick up.... sure. Pick up." Joey grabbed at the can and clumsily bounced it back and forth in his hands as he tried to grab it. It landed in the bottom of the boat.

Gator reached into the boat and picked up the 12 pack box of unopened beer. He crushed it in his fist and sprayed them all with the contents before dropping the fizzing package back in the boat. Then he gripped the boat, turned it around, and gave it a small push.

"HOME."

Joey grabbed for the paddles. "Give the me the paddles, man!"

"HOOOOOOME!" Gator roared and the bellow of his voice pushed the boat. The three boys screamed some more. Rich and Marco splashed at the water to make the boat go faster.

As Gator watched, the three boys didn't stop screaming until well out of sight. He sank back into the murky waters, satisfied that these three troublemakers wouldn't be back.

Links to the Showcase short stories

In case you missed any of them up to now, before I post the first of GZ Legends. Here are the links to all the showcase short stories so you can read and catch up. I hope you enjoy them!

Boston Masters, Dealing Death

The Last Nursery Rhyme

Demon Jack

Becoming Osiris

The Target

Road Rage


Very soon here I will be posting GZ Legends number 1. This is just to get folks a way to catch up on the stories that have been done.

As I explained in my last post, the stories that are coming up will all be linked together. Just wait till you see how.

Thanks for reading and following and adding your "likes". It's all very much appreciated!

Galaxy Zento wants YOU!

This is what is about to happen.

Many of you have been reading the Showcase Short stories and I thank you.  Now to step it up a notch.

Starting this weekend I will be posting a short story series I'm calling GZ Legends. I plan to post a part 3x a week.

And we need YOU to help it get around. Share links, share on facebook, give it a twitter tweet, email it, whatever it takes. We need to make some noise! Can you make some noise?

We need to see likes climbing on the Facebook page. If you "liked" Galaxy Zento, make sure to pass it around. Make sure to check it out regularly because the kid gloves are OFF.

Yesterday we recieved a response from an agency checking out the Chessmen novel and Galaxy Zento. While they wrote they were highly impressed with the world building of both, they still had to decline.  What's awesome about this is that I made them take about four extra weeks to struggle with that decision. That tells me I'm doing something right and it's time to light a big ol bonfire with this. You can help!

Not only do we need the likes on the facebook page, but COMMENTS! We want your interactivity, right here on this blog and right on the facebook page! Chime in and be active with us!

Where does Galaxy Zento really expect to go?

Current goals are as follows!

1: Publish at least one series of novels (but more are in writing phase and planning right now!) and currently that's the Chessmen series. Unlike GZ Legends, you will only see excerpts of the Chessmen.

2: Publish several games based on the GZ universe. This includes a revision of the current role playing game (which may be tested ONLINE in post by post format) and a card game.

3: Graphic Novels are on the table for discussion but require more from an artist that I am capable of. So that is in idea stage.

4: Circulate to all of you and go the convention circuit with even more cool products to show off for GZ and all it's original characters and alien races.  This includes Gencon, Dragoncon, Wizard cons, and Comicons.

5: Finally, I want to do good things with Galaxy Zento to give back. That's why I will be contacting Autism agencies and offering the support of Galaxy Zento and it's creator (me). I don't know what that will entail right now, but I'm going to do it.

For some of this, I'm sure I'm going to be needing a new Galaxy Zento team of people willing to put into this as it's built. So be watching. And even if that doesn't happen, I'll be right here building!

Products and T-shirts are already available and will help support efforts of Galaxy Zento.

So watch closely, and remember, you will want to know what happens next!

Showcase: The Last Nursery Rhyme

The Last Nursery Rhyme

Roddy looked anxiously up and down the dark street before walking up to his front door. It was a quiet night on the little London street. Roddy would have preferred some noise. The silence was too unsettling. One more glance before he turned his key in the lock and he quickly slipped inside. As he shut and locked the door, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the light switch.

As the light came on, rough hands grabbed him from either side. Two large men had ahold of him. Roddy let out a cry of surprise and fear as they spun him around to face his living room.

“Now, now, Roddy,” said the man who sat in Roddy’s favorite arm chair. “Don’t want to annoy the neighbors do we?”

The man wore a red striped barker’s jacket, straw hat and white pants. From his jacket breast pocket, a glossy candy cane stuck out. He wore round wire rimmed spectacles and held a cane made entirely of finger bones. Roddy knew this horror to be the crime boss called, Mother Goose. Since this was also his boss, Roddy felt cold.

            “We have something important to discuss, don’t we, Roddy?” Mother Goose smiled with un-nerving calm.

            “I didn’t do nuthin’, MG, I swear. I been good for you, real good,” Roddy pleaded.

            Mother Goose stood up, “Is that so?”

            Roddy nodded fast, hoping his boss would buy it.

            “That’s not what I heard,” Mother Goose shook his head slowly with an exaggerated frown, “You know, Roddy, we had a very large shipment come in from New York last week. A shipment we were very careful to conceal in every way.” Mother Goose moved closer to Roddy, “Oddly enough, however, that shipment was seized.”

            Roddy eyed the cane and hoped that all he would have to do is lose a finger to it. Most mistakes were made up for that way because Mother Goose like the Yakuza way of doing things. But Mother Goose was far more sinister than they could ever be.

            “You listening, Roddy ol boy?” Mother Goose tapped Roddy on the forehead with the cane.

            “Yeah, Mother, but I had nothing to do with it, I swear. Whoever told you I did is lying to protect himself, MG!”

            Mother Goose leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper, “Do you mean to accuse the Hag of being a liar, Roddy? Would you like to say that to her face then?”

            At this point, Roddy didn’t know which way was out of the frying pan and into the fire. No one messed with the Hag, not even Mother Goose. Roddy shook his head ‘no’ as the color drained from his face.

            “Right! So we’ll just deal with this right here! That means just one thing to do!” Mother Goose smiled

            Roddy prayed to lose a finger, even a hand.

            “Tie him to the chair in the corner boys and make it nice and tight. We can’t have him moving a single muscle,” Mother Goose ordered.

            “What?” Roddy cried out, “Ah no, MG, not Little Jack Horner, anything but that!”

            “Well, what did you expect, Roddy? I have a mult-million dollar shipment to retrieve. Did you think one of your fingers was worth that much? Your whole arm isn’t worth that much.”

            “Take em both!”

            The two rugged men tied Roddy down to the chair around his torso, legs and arms. They even put a strap around his neck. The chair had been bolted to the floor earlier. Roddy couldn’t do much but wiggle fingers and turn his head slightly.

            Mother Goose lifted a pie from a nearby table, “I hope you like this, Roddy. I made it just for you.” He set the pie in Roddy’s lap where Roddy shivered and stared down at it in horror. Mother Goose continued, “Now do be real still and set a good example, won’t you?”

            “Please, MG, come on! I can turn this around!”

            Mother Goose smiled and walked out the door with the two henchmen Next to those men, Mother Goose was a small man, but neither of them would cross their boss like Roddy did.They closed the door behind them and walked out and across the street. Across from Roddy’s house was an adjoining street and the three men walked down that way a good distance from the house to a waiting red sedan.  Mother Goose turned to look at Roddy’s house and reached into his pocket.

            Roddy’s face streamed with tears and he glanced around desperately and finally began to shout, “Help meeeee! Somebody help m….”

            The explosion brought daylight to the little street as Roddy’s house became a giant ball of fire and debris. The concussive force of the blast shattered windows on cars and nearby homes. The house next to Roddy’s was caught up in the blast and on fire. Next came the clatter of falling debris and car alarms.

            “Ahhh, fireworks and music,” Mother Goose mused, “how beautiful. Well, off we go boys. Mother has work to do.”

            The three men climbed into the sedan and drove away. Roddy made a terrible mistake and for that, earned his last nursery rhyme.

Showcase Origin: Demon Jack!

The Origin of Demon Jack

DJ Wilde 2012

Carter Henderson grasped a fist full of weeds and pulled them from the well churned earth of his garden. The pumpkins were getting big and soon neighbors would be buying some of them from him. He grew all sorts of vegetables in his garden and shared much of them.  After long hours working for the post office, Carter’s way to unwind was gardening.

After pulling a few more weeds he edged forward on his muddy knees to reach some more. No weeds would be choking out his plants this year. The next one was a thick weed. He grasped it and pulled. It resisted. Thinking it must have a long root, Carter adjusted his grip and gave a good hard pull.

In the first split second, his back felt like it was hit with a sledgehammer. In the next split second he saw flames and the sound of the explosion deafened him. With nearly instantaneous results he saw bright fire and knew only searing agony, then darkness.

People around Carter’s block stepped out of their homes wondering at the sound. The column of smoke could be seen for blocks.

“Hey, that’s Carter’s yard!” people exclaimed and from deep in a dull state, Carter could hear them.

Carter moved a leg first, then an arm. He felt no pain, but still saw flames. He also felt something else, something in his mind that moved. It was the strangest sensation Carter had ever known.

Neighbors burst through the gate to the back yard but came to a stumbling halt at the sight before them. The crater was nearly 20 feet across and the garden was gone. Something in the smoke was still burning, and it moved toward them. As it came into view, the neighbors started to scream. What Carter understood even less, was the eerie laugh that seemed to be coming from his own mouth.

Miles away, in downtown, New York City, Larry Peters entered a federal building with a package. He dressed in his usual black leather jacket and jeans. His long blonde hair draped around his shoulders. The receptionist smiled and buzzed him through the security doors. Larry was well known in the offices of the FPA (Federal Protection Agency) as the member of an special response team called PAC (Parahuman Activities Commission). He was better known by the name Blacktide.

Blacktide rode the elevator, wishing they would change the music and soon stepped onto the floor of his office. At his desk he saw a large dark image that looked like a shadowy werewolf with great black wings. Despite the muscular bulk of the creature called Nyhtwulf, he balanced on the edge of a desk on the balls of bare though clawed feet.

Blacktide handed Nyhtwulf the package, “You really need to use a chair,” he teased shadowy partner.

“Chairs and my wings don’t fit so well,” Nyhtwulf said as he tore open the box, “Ah you got just the ones I like!” Nyhtwulf pulled out a handful of foil wrapped cubes of cream cheese and popped them into his wolfen mouth.

“I don’t care what you say,” Blacktide poured himself a cup of coffee, “I am never eating anything with the wrapper still on it; especially cream cheese.”

“But it’s so delicious that way!”

“And it’s all yours.”

Blacktide and Nyhtwulf

“Blacktide and Nyhtwulf!” came the earshattering shout of Commander Henry P. Larratus, “In my office!”

Though the shout was enough to make most people run with conviction, the two put down their morning edibles and walked back to the office of their manager.

The balding man at the desk in the large office banged his smoldering cigar into an ash tray as they walked in. “Did I sound like you should take your time? You both need to head to this are of Great Neck right now! You’ve got a live one.”

Larratus tossed a paper across the desk that Blacktide scooped up. As he did the paper disintegrated in his fingers slightly. Blacktide controlled the power of his energy aura in time not to destroy the whole paper.

“Isn’t the wolf in your head to help you restrain that?” Larratus asked.

“Well, yeah, but things can still get singed, Boss. That’s why I still don’t shake hands. We’ll get right on this. Looks like there’s no time for my motorcycle. Nyhtwulf, you’ll have take us.”

Nyhtwulf put a clawed hand on his partner’s shoulder and the two of them vanished like dissolving shadows.

“I hate it when they do that,” Larratus chomped his cigar, “gives me the creeps.”

Back in Great Neck, the first police car screeched to a halt before the haunting scene blocking their way. It stood tall with humanoid arms and legs of green and had huge pumpkin enveloped in fire, hovering over the body as its head. In the pumpkins face appeared a wide mouth with natural and sharp looking teeth. Its eyes were angled in cruel rage but its laughter echoed. Within the view of mouth, nose and eyes, all that could be seen was fire. Unlike a jack-o-lantern, the features were disturbingly natural.

The two officers watched as long thorny vines extended from where they were wrapped around the thing’s forearms. It drew back and arm and sent the end of the vine at the car, like cracking a whip. The impact crumpled the front of the police car and both officers leaped from the vehicle for their lives. Right after that, a jet of fire came from the pumpkin’s mouth and turned the car into an inferno.

From within, Carter watched it all in horror. This was his body and he couldn’t understand how to make it stop. He screamed but the only sound that made it outside was the despicable laughter.

“Geez, who ordered the salad flambé?” Blacktide commented as he and Nyhtwulf appeared on the scene.

“I’ll come in from the air,” Nyhtwulf spread his wings and jumped into flight.

“And I’ll take him from the ground. Let’s wipe that smile off ol’ Jack’s face.” Blacktide couldn’t help but think of a jack-o-lantern as he rushed forward. He could see that it noticed both of them.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to give up?” Blacktide asked as the air around his fists darkened with disintegration energy.

In response, the fiend lashed out another vine that hit a nearby telephone pole. The pole snapped like a toothpick and fell toward Blacktide who just stood there. Blacktide carries an auro around his body that disintegrates any solid object before it can touch him. In the past, it’s been very useful against bullets and other weapons. The remains of the pole fell around him on the ground.

Blacktide could see his partner was ready to swoop in on their opponent. Blacktide held back a fist and threw a shadowy projectile at the beast, hitting it in the chest. It staggered backwards slightly with what seemed to be a cry of pain. Nyhtwulf flew intangibly through the creature’s body. Normally, when Nyhtwulf does this, he can scramble brain waves and life force of any living being. This time, he found himself thrown down the street.

Nyhtwulf regain his footing with natural agility and shook his head to ward off the effects of the severe dizziness this attack gave him.

Blacktide watched in amazement as the hole in the creature’s chest sealed up and that distraction cost him. A thorny vine wrapped around his throat and the thorns bit into his skin. They smouldered, but did not disintegrate as most things did.  It pulled Blacktide toward it and spoke.

“Must pull the weeds,” Its voice crackled with the roaring flame around its head.

Nyhtwulf flew into the air to rescue his partner and the pumpkin head spun in the flames to face him.

Fighting Demon Jack

“Yes, come closer, I’m going to kill him anyway,” it rasped.

Nyhtwulf veered to his partner and grabbed him. Nyhtwulf made his friend intangible just like him and flew him to a rooftop. Blacktide knelt on the roof choking as Nyhtwulf used his supernatural abilities to heal his friend’s neck.

“I think those thorns were poison,” Blacktide said, “I was blacking out. Thanks, partner.”

“My pleasure, you are healed, but there is bad news.”

“About healing me or the Mr. Halloween party?”

“The second one. There are two minds in this creature, one is human and filled with terror. The other is demon.”

“Demon? You mean like you?” Blacktide asked.

“Not like me, but demon all the same. When I tried to fly through it, the combination of life energies repelled me.”

“Great, so we can call him Demon Jack and he has multiple personality disorder.”

“Come back weeds!” Demon Jack called from the street as he lashed away at buildings and parked cars. Thorns flew like bullets and even stuck into brick walls and metal. “Weeeeds!”

“Well, I can’t disintegrate an innocent person, we have to do something else.”

“I don’t think I can separate them, but if you can distract it, I may be able to switch the minds that are in control.”

“Distract it,” Blacktide said, “Great, my favorite part of the job.”

The roof they stood on shook.

“Okay, I’m going to drop through the roof and come out the front. I’ll get Jack’s attention. You do what you can do.” Blacktide increased his disintegration aura so that he dropped through the roof and into the pharmacy below. He rushed past toward the front of the store and noted the fire extinguisher on the wall. He grabbed it on the way out.

Most of the area was evacuated except for a small shop across the street with a crowd of onlookers inside. Blacktide hated it when people didn’t follow emergency proceedures, but he didn’t have time to worry about them now. He ran into the street and came up behind Demon Jack.

“Hey!”

It spun to face him with vines reaching like thorny tentacles. “Ahhhh, there you are, weed.”

Blacktide aimed the canister like a fat magic wand instead of bothering with the hose. “Careful, contents under pressure!” With his disintegration ability, Blacktide swiped a hand across the top of the fire extinguisher, releasing everything in it at Demon Jack’s head. It was a direct hit and Demon Jack’s vines flailed in all directions as he fought to get the fire retardant off of him.

Nyhtwulf swooped in and hovered behind Demon Jack. In his intangible form, the vines couldn’t touch him. Nyhtwulf thrust both of his hands into the back of the flaming pumpkin and endured a shock like grabbing a live powerline. He held on and could feel the two minds within. Thanks to the distraction of the fire retardant, the mind of the demon was preoccupied and unprepared to deal with Nyhtwulf’s intrusion. As mystical fire mixed with extinguisher filled the street with smoke. Blacktide had to back up in order to breath. He covered his face with part of his leather jacket.

After agonizing moments, Blacktide heard the wingbeats of his partner, forcing the smoke away to reveal the more humble looking, Carter Henderson. Nyhtwulf had ahold of Carter by either shoulder.

“Oh, help me,” Carter cried, “It’s still in me. It wants to come back.”

“We know of a hospital that might be able to help you, but we have to know what happened.” Blacktide said.

“I don’t know. I just pulled a weed and it exploded in my back yard,” Carter looked around at all the damage, “I couldn’t stop it.”

“Yeah we know, where’s your yard?” Blacktide pressed.

“We don’t have much time,” Nyhtwulf said, “What I managed was temporary.”

Carter hadn’t gone far from his home and led them to his yard quickly. They surveyed the scene of the crater that used to be Carter’s garden.

“I just pulled a weed right here.”

Nyhtwulf flew into the crater that was easily ten feet deep, “It was no weed that did this.”

“What you got?” Blacktide called after his partner.

Nyhtwulf held up a chunk of half glowing stone. “A meteorite. It must have struck just as he pulled that weed. He never knew what hit him. I sense traces of the other mind on it.”

“Oh no!” Carter stumbled backward, “he’s coming!”

Quickly, Nyhtwulf jumped out of the crater and phased a hand through Carter’s forehead. Carter trembled with a few spasms and fell over. “We have to get him somewhere, quickly. I scrambled his brain waves but he will recover soon and change.”

Blacktide nodded. “Take him to the hospital.”

The Powers University Hospital was the place to take people with powers that needed help in anyway. Blacktide had once committed himself there to keep his powers from hurting others. But that was before meeting Nyhtwulf.  Now the University took in Carter Henderson and worked quickly to see if they could hold Demon Jack at bay. As for if they did, that is another story.