Chapter One

Posted: August 20, 2021 by Ty in Bionic Knight Pulps
Tags: , , , ,

Welcome back dear reader, when last we were in the pulps of the Bionic Knight– Prologue and now we rejoin our tale…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The Canadian penny fell into his hand. The voice he heard was gravelly. The house they had been in no longer existed. Green flame and dust replaced with…soil? Sod? Gnarly wiry trees that resembled the sketches from their old storybooks. What was that tree called? Robin Hood’s tree? No that was what the uneducated would call the known historic home and hiding place of the legendary outlaw.

“Major oak?” they gasp out, any strength in their vocal chords gone. “Sherwood Forest?”

A chortle? Or was it a chuckle? It was definately that sound of mirth between a full belly laugh and a simple snort. They struggled for their eyes to focus in the weird reddish orange moonlight. Smoke? Yet no smell of campfire? Where was this timezone? A crunch of leather soul on the ground. The outline of armour? Or rather leather breeches and chainmail with a cloak, maybe the outline of a sheather sword. Had the explosion killed them? Put them in a coma? Was this some rather twisted hallucinagonic Dungeoans & Dragons game? And why the hell did this penny keep turning up? The Canadian government had stopped making them, yet…

The gravelly voice came from a shadowy head that resembled…an elk? Or just horns of a helm? “Yes and no. My home, but not the forest of your realm.”

Realm? A shoulder roll, the middle aged body reminding themselves they were not hte villain they had once been. But this was beyond experience. But truly was it, they had after all been on of many incarnations of villainy. But that was a long time ago, when heroes did heroic things, and villains did villainous things, heroes beat villians and put them in jail, not the new era where there was no hope of redemption arcs for many villains. Mostly due to the hero being a bit anti-heroic with dealing out death.

“Who?”

Under the helm, their eyes focusing a bit better. One good eye. The eye patch, the form. Not the Bionic Knight, but familiar none the less. Is that a quiver? An end of a long bow? “Archer?”

That sound was definately a chuckle. An outstretched arm. “You knew me as Bionic Archer, sidekick of your nemesis, Bionic Knight. It has been a long time, and many realms away since I have heard that name.”

They accept the help up, and lock eyes with the good eye. An emerald green staring back from behind the helm. He pulls off the helm, revealing the scarred bald head and scratchy snow coloured beard. “Killer Face, what number are you?”

A glance away in shame. He knew who they were. “A name I haven’t heard for many years myself. I was released, declared cured. A lifepast.” A glance to the penny. Penny for their thoughts? “I’m…” what was their name? It had been so long since anyone had actually cared to ask. Let alone inquire what they were thinking? Upon release he had blended into the background at a shelter ran out of church basement, working for romm & board, some spending cash, as the on-site groundskeeper/janitor. What had pulled him to the house? Seeking answers? Confirmation? Forgiveness? Retritbution? Reconciliation? “Harry.”

“Welcome, Harry. To many in this realm I am Herne, in the next realm I am Robin. But my friends calls me John.” A fog or smoke. Now seated within Major Oak. To high backed chairs, and… “my friend, do not be afraid of the beverage, it is tea. I know you are what we used to call straight edge so no mead.” Another chuckle. The voice less raspy, the voice–

“It was your voice that came to me, calling me to the house.” Harry said.

John smiled as he sipped his tea. Crunched on a piece of biscuit with jam. “Yes, it is part of the plan of the return.”

“The return?”

John stroked his whiskery beard. “Your realm needs a protector, PenDragon or Herne we are unsure. What is sure, is that myself the Knight will not, cannot return.”

“But I am a killer.”

“There is a time for everything under the Heavens, and nothing new within the realms. Is not everyone who is humble, and seeking, allowed forgiveness? If of course you can forgive yourself?”

“Wha?”

A spark of green flame, the same penny once more in the palm of Harry’s hand.

“If I can forgive myself?”

The flame consumed the person Harry in the chair of Major Oak, as John gave a belly laugh.

The fog rolled through.

And this realm moved on

without the one called Harry.

Comments
  1. Chapter Two | Ty Ragan, Psy.D says:

    […] Chapter One […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s