Posts Tagged ‘City’


City Hall. Mayor Susan Kobwash-Saturn’s office.
It’s raining. Lightning dances, as the gods goat hooves rumble through the sky. Why is it always raining on night’s like this in a story? Some cosmic writer must believe it sets mood or something. The office door creaks open, as lightning, and LED light illuminate the darkened room.
“Who the hell are you?!”
Should have expected that response. The day Susan became mayor, her and the council forced the administration to allow flow of ease for citizens in what her hope stated was “reclaiming the people’s buildings.” So things like check points, metal detectors, forceful non-loitering policies were cast aside. And her personal assistant knew me, so by the time I got up here he just let me in. Though it looks like he forgot to inform the deputy mayor before going home for the day.
“Deputy Mayor Lola.” I remove my hat and nod my head. “William MacKay at your service.”
“I go back to the original question, who the hell are you?” said the deputy mayor. She obviously did not keep up with news of most kinds if that question was till hanging. I point to a picture on the wall of Mayor Kobwash-Saturn, with the G.C.F. Her eyes go to the picture.
“Oh, you are one of those.” She states as she moves across the room, and glides into the seat behind the large mahogany desk. “So what do you want?”
I chuckle. Where to begin? The fact she was acting mayor for the next few months because of the Saturn family vanishing without a trace. Yet she had not filed papers yet to run. “Because the wolves are ready to devour the sheep, and you are on the sidelines watching.” Before Susan ran for office, the mayoral battles, like most elections within our province had been a vote against or to stop something. Not for something. She gave the citizens something to vote for.
I was battling the siege of the hatred and the darkness that tried to take deep root in this city on the vote day. It was not pretty, it was messy, but the vote rolled through. Hope won more than one battle that day. She had gone on to challenge the status quo. To get multiple levels from blaming one another in the round about avoidance game, to begin working together. To get county and civic leaders working together across the urban and rural divide. The politics of unity are not as lucrative as the politics of division. The capital on hate is a lot higher than hope. When she vanished, many were happy and started coming out of the woodwork.
“A bit melodramatic. The mayor will return, run and win. Another checkmark in a few months.” Deputy Mayor Said. Her eyes though fixate on the greying whiskers and jagged scar across my face. She really has no clue about who I am.
I wink at her and she seems unsettled. “I would suggest you google me. I am not prone to the melodramatic. Mostly I am called uncouth or a curmudgeon. I mean this with no disrespect.” I figure she must be interested as I am not being tackled by security, or the police constables I know had been assigned to each member of council since the vanishing. “I am not locked away as a dangerous offender cause the chap in the armour in that pic vouched for me. Trusted me to mentor the younglings that protect this city and this world. We are prepping for something that is major bad ass coming our way, but I like to multi-task.”
She laughs at that. Her android phone is out, and I see the tapping. She literally is googling me. Damn I’m old. I see her eyebrows arch in shock. “So, Mr. Mackay was it?”
“Wil is fine.”
“Wil. Why the visit if this big bad is coming, why multi-task over a civic election?” The Deputy Mayor is not stupid. She understands it looks ludicrous, technically municipalities have no constitutional rights or jurisdictions. “I mean we oversee roads, builds, emergency services, and waste disposal. What does it matter?”
“Simple Deputy Mayor. Susie, well, whether it was a hit, a kidnap, a cosmic or extra-terrestrial event or bloody magic—is gone. The void is there. We can either keep hope moving forward. Be the pebble in the pond with the ripple outwards, that may cause change further outwards to other levels of governance or we can let the ripples stop now. You believed in her?”
Deputy Mayor Lola pushes her hair back and tucks it behind her ear. Her young brown eyes fix on me. Studying my facial creases and crow’s feet. Probably wondering how one gets such bags under the eyes, cauliflower ears, and a nose that defies description. Very few scrappers left on this side of the ground. “You know the answer to that, Mr. MacKay.”
“I know what your actions showed, but now it’s time for you to act. Are you ready to step into the big shoes, or are you still Acting Mayor Rajni Lola?”
“You pretentious asshole my friend is missing!”
I pull a cigar out of my storm rider pocket, snip the end, and begin lighting it. “She was the only person that ever truly believed in my redemption. She is gone. So, will you be her legacy?” The Acting (Deputy) Mayor slumps into her wingback Corinthian Leather chair, looking very young as the lightning dances. “I am here for my friend, asking you to do what she cannot right now. Will you be the voice for the people against the wolves at our gates?”
I turn and begin leaving the office. I know the puffing cigar annoys the no smoking polices and I don’t really care. Was this whole people’s revolution of hope truly only propped up by one person? A very soft voice reaches my ear. “I believe in hope, Wil.”
I nod as I walk out. Who knew multi-tasking could work?

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The Ashram. My front porch. The kid and me, two cups of coffee.

A plot of land I quasi-inherited, squatted upon with the demise of the immortal alien life essence that was Zeus existing as a bi-sexual Zen monastic. I wish I could say the history of life in this City got easier as the story went along, but well, it has been a journey-quest—what is more than a quest? Mystical experience of the super hero operatic variety.

The weird questions being the mentor of the new generation of hero. The Ashram is 3 double wife trailers, one is mine (that is, the home of William “Shotgun” MacKay as the papers call me, when I used to be the villain killing for a living, and for the past 20ish years being the hero). The other two are split between the young heroes that make up the Great Crime Fighters. Canada’s super heroes. They have had many incarnations, and there is the dark time, that brought back the core that then passed on their legacies before their own transitions. Our greatest hero was the Bionic Knight. He was a punk ass teenager I attempted to kill many times, before he helped me become a hero. As a middle aged man, PTSD due to a life of literally saving the universe and mourning took hold of him. He was struggling through some neurological challenge as well that we were never too sure if it was magical or electrical. The power source that made him a hero, check that, that gave him the super powers of Camelot (yes that Arthur bloke) was the PenDragon force. It found a new host. A new punk ass kid, working through her own mourning as the Opioid crisis claimed her little brother, almost lost her with that. Rick talked her back. That was his real name, Rick Saturn, the first husband of our city’s mayor, Susan Kobwash-Saturn, father of two beautiful special needs twins.

A few months ago in a McDonald’s two aliens revealed themselves, George and Dragyn, because what caused the exodus of the stars to earth was coming. A few scant weeks after that Rick vanished.

Not only him, but his family. A few months left on her term as mayor. A successful run.

“Shotgun, why me?” I take a sip from my coffee, leaning on the porch rail, Beth Venus, she’s the new punk ass with the power of Camelot. Also, very anxious and unsure of why she was chosen.

Remember it was a bit of the same conversation I had with Rick after my conversion to the light, and he shared who he was. He shared at 16 years old receiving the power scared the crap out of him, having to find his way. Thinking it was like a maze, but really it was more like a labyrinth. Only one path, however winding, to the source at the centre. A metaphor I have shared with Beth many times, but she is not used to long journeys. Like most in our technological age, she wants it now. Who knew there would be a time when I would think Johnny (Johnny Power- flies, invulnerable, super strong) and Kyla (Last name, Storm, her father Kyler was the Speedster, she is of the same super-speed, with an attention span to match, though Johnny’s can be worse).

“The PenDragon knows who it chooses, your path is to walk the inner Labyrinth to find the dragon within.” Believe that is the way Rick phrased it to me once, hopefully it sounds Yoda enough.

“Quit with the Spock crap. Why me?! Do you think I wanted to be the hero of all the multi-verse?!” Beth screams. Nights like this I am happy the Ashram is on its own little hill away from other neighbours.

Remember the argument when Susie (Susan, Rick’s wife) decided to run for Mayor. John MacCurtis, Rick’s best bud formerly PinBall, formerly Bionic Archer (of Herne and Hood variety) who gave his all had left vacant. He had started a path for a just city. Susan had the passion to complete it. Her concern was Rick stopping being a hero so she could do it, he trusted the power to find th te right host.

“Find you, and the power will co-operate.” I know great pep talk take away for a teenager. Find yourself. The purpose of adolescence.

Susan leveraged every connection she had made, John had politically and Rick had as a former journalist, politico and pastor. The Bionic Knight came out in favour of her, which also helped, and the G.C.F. backed her too. It was time to fully leave the dark, it was time to embrace the light. The Council and Administration were excited over more positivity where every person was seen as a citizen who shared the same rights of Canadians promised in our Constitution and Charter for a just society.

She moved beyond tweet policies, and quick solutions. She pushed for solutions that worked for the individual in community. Moving the conversation from simple accessibility and inclusion to belonging. From housing to homes. From work to vocational purpose. From debt to actual living wages and thriving. From reaction to pro-activity in building a world. Reconciliation and restoration not vengeance. Not looking at integration or reintegration for those who are coming from institutional life whether it be medical, mental health, addiction, corrections or shelters but true connectivity, belonging and living. She pushed hard (and had the death threats to prove it) to all levels of government that any relapse, recycle, recidivism or re-housing/re-shelter rate that was not absolute 0 had to be re-framed for what it was:

A RE-TRAUMATIZATION rate of the person and community.

Susie got the we were all in this together.

Beth is nervous because the council is pushing forward her agenda of transformation and other levels of government are working it as well with her missing. But the forces of darkness and hate are brewing.

“Fuck Will. Incels, Alt-Right, Whiteass sympathizers, So-Cons, its going back to the non-heroic age. We can’t keep the keel.” I love Beth’s passion for nautical movies.

The non-heroic age was a time when heroes rose up based around vengeance, where they played at being judge, jury and executioner. Where it was fuelled by institutional hate, misogyny, and more money makes right, privatization over public good… and every problem could be solved by the taxpayer paying low taxes, and when hit with a road block of any variety by bucking up and pulling themselves up by their boot straps. For you see we are not connected at all, we are all only individuals swirling in this world.

“And why does it matter to you girl? Just toss the ring, let it find another then.” I say.

Beth looks down at the Celtic cross ring on her righthand ring finger. She had ben through the ringer. She knew why her brother succumbed to drug use. The constant emotional and verbal abuse he had endured, and the non-heroic age, non-just society answers peddled onto him. The lack of belonging sapped him to the point of being nothing more than the chemicals that remained in the body after his soul had long crumbled into the darkness.

 

“Because I see through the political correct titles placed upon bullshit movements that basically mean, bully, abuser, Nazi asshat.”

“And?”

“And…I want the world we are building not the one we deconstructed.”

I simply nod. It’s coming, and these kids, may all the gods be with us, for what ever is coming looks to have taken the big guy off the board.

–and that scares the piss out of me.


The announcement went off well. MacKay was happy to see his frenemy’s wife make the announcement while Rick was still missing. It was what happened in the square after that was shocking for that thing to have left the shadows and strike in mid-day light was not the usual scope.

If this was the United States of America the victim would’ve been described as a young co-ed. Truth is she was a first-year university student, first generation Canadian, Sheik judging from the female style turban. And eviscerated. A y-section on the chest like one would’ve used for an autopsy. MacKay flashed credentials he was impressed still worked currently of “non-officially sanctioned” heroics, but there was still respect for the old guard. Yes, the old guard that even rookies knew the story of MacKay’s crossover, during one of the major universal saves, and a well-placed shotgun blast that took out a Killer Face (numbers become irrelevant when triple digits get hit) and saved a hero’s life.

But the slashing violence of this death. The young constable is grey. MacKay wipes some sweat away from his brow, and acknowledges how naked he feels being out and about without his usual double barrel sawed off. But he checks the young man’s badge. Larpe.

“Constable Larpe. Special Agent William MacKay of G.C.F. division. This is an old murderer resurfaced.” MacKay said. He quickly flips open his phone, and hits a speed dial.

“Zed, MacKay. Get the kids together.”

The Constable is on his radio calling it in. The sirens are creating a vibration throughout the downtown core. The thunder clap means rain, and rain means that evidence will soon be washed away. But evidence is not what is needed at this point and time.

A touch on his shoulder, MacKay whirls to swing and stops short. “Bill.” Susan said.

MacKay grimaced. She had heard the scream and crossed the road like he had after the announcement. Showing why she should win at being mayor. Her eyes see the body and don’t even blink as soon first responders are everywhere. The psychic flash dances across her eyes. MacKay knows she already has seen the energy signature.

“You coming Susie?” MacKay asked.

Susan looks at her old friend. And knows what he knows. The ancient evil is back. Re-manifested as it knows the PenDragon is absent.

To Be continued…

 

 

 

 


Walt Longmire. Leichtman (Lie to Me); Sherlock (from Elementary); Sherlock (from Sherlock); Spenser; Jesse Stone; Rake and Patrick Jane (Mentalist) were his type of main characters.  Susan chuckled at the thought as she stood on the steps. She clearly stated he had a type, Rick would always deny it saying what is so similar about them all? She pointed to the A-hole with a golden heart scenario.

Every time before he had vanished, over the last few decades…five for sure the world thought he was dead.  Each time he claimed her as his lightning rod. The Lois Lane to his Superman (thanks to the New 52 there may be a generation that will never get that reference) or the Linda Park to his Wally West (Flash). Every time he spoke the simple mantra, Bionics On; or leapt into some social justice war zone (literal and figurative) for his life as a journalist.

Twins. Special needs. One income through a dying entity—the free press. Now conglomerated and shrinking, the City news room continually being shrunk. Yet Rick Saturn survived.

Until their Mayor died.

The mayor, John MacCurtis. Childhood friend. The three of them dubbed the Three Musketeers; the Scooby Gang of Canadian Super Heroics as she back benched the Bionic Knight and PinBall. Then later The Bionic Knight and Bionic Archer. Then de-powered Archer, sought a life, was married, had a child, a dog…ran for mayor. Revealed to the world the truth of who he was.

And won.

Stood over as the heroics turned dark.

Stood with the re-united Great Crime Fighters and revealed the PinBall was live again.

John MacCurtis.

Mayor. Possessed by an alien entity. Finally, freed. Died. Rick believed at his friend’s grave his spirit spoke to him unsettled.

Cashed in savings.
Took a leave of absence.

Rick began a quest to free his friend to eternal rest or new life.

Susan pushed the blue hair out of her eyes. Staring up at the steel and glass building that reflected sunlight. Fresh rain beaded off. News cameras always were around. Always a free podium. How John would use these vultures to get things done for the better.

Money had run out at home.

Interim mayor has been arrested on embezzlement charges.

Election time according to Municipalities act is stipulating the time for election is nigh after four years with no incumbents.

Rick promised he would return. Promised it would work out.

Now there was no musketeers.

Just her.

And a city that needed help.

Kids that needed a Mum with a job.

Susan wipes the tear from her eye. Chasing John’s ghost took her soul. “But I’ll be damned if he’ll take my love.”

Susan steps to an empty podium, pulls off the white sheet covering it from the rain. A reported looks at her, she nods. Taps a microphone to a burst of static.

More turn.

“Hello, my name is Susan Kobwash-Saturn. You knew my friend, John MacCurtis as a hero and your mayor. You read my husband in the Chronicle as he battled for what was right. Today I honour both of their lives. Today I look at our amazing city, and realize it is not the city that I grew up in. It is not the city that I want to continue to raise my daughters in. I could just leave, but that is not the answer. No. I want tmy city back. So today I take the first step in reclaiming this city for its citizens. Today I Susan Kobwash-Saturn, put the big money candidates on notice. Today I am running to be your mayor.”

In the far back in a lumber jack jacket with well worn wrangler jeans, a grizzled looking man with long salt and pepper hair watches the announcement. A sheep skin work glove takes a half smoke cigar from his mouth. His one good eye winks at the lady on the stage unknown to her. He lets out a guttural chuckle and ponders that fifteen years ago it was this spit fire that had driven the tip of a dagger through his left eye to save the life of the Bionic Knight and changed the course of his life from villain to hero.

William “Shotgun” MacKay tips his fedora as he walks away from the reporters shouting questions at someone he once wished dead who had become a friend. “Bout time ya lived your passion Susie.”

The Election Begins…

As the storm rolls back after dark…

As in a public plaza an woman watches a man.

A flash of steel.

A scream.

To Be Continued…

Chapter Thirteen

Posted: October 8, 2016 by Ty in Speare 3: Thor v. Zeus
Tags: , , , , ,

Natan was down. Interesting his blood was blue and spreading on the laminate of the office. The bullet had taken him in the right shoulder. In one fluid motion Sax raised his bow, it had been years but like riding a bike the arrow was loosed through Slick’s gun hand sending the weapon flying. A yelp escaped her lips.

Speare’s hand tightened around the war hammer.

Slick’s good hand produced a second gun, she was an ambidextrous shooter and it was aimed squarely at Speare. Sax had another arrow knocked.

MacCurtis looked at his bodyguard and to the two still standing. Natan appeared to be entering shock. His eyes had rolled back in his head and he was mumbling something that sounded Latin.

“Welcome boys, it has been a while Sax and Natan, Speare you were always a beard on this enterprise.” MacCurtis said.

A beard? A set up. A diversion. A jive. Something to distract. Time Speare thought to put some cards on the table. “Slick, or do you prefer Reesa?”

“Reesa’s dead Speare, my Dad always thought you were a wank—“She did not get to finish her sentence as a red lightning bolt sliced through her chest.

Red energy began crackling around MacCurtis, his eyes moved to a solid blue colour and his hair and beard began growing. Sax let the arrow fly and another. They turned to dust before clearing the room. “It is time you boys lived up to the name Martyrs.”

Natan’s mumbling in Latin grew louder.

“So MacCurtis or is it now Thor?” Speare asked.

“There is no difference. That child thought he had stripped us apart, yet forgot that the entity and host are one.” MacCurtis laughed out loud. “And the best part is that you will die Speare as the nice bow on top of this gift of renewal.” Blue energy shot from MacCurtis’ eyes but stopped three inches away. Shock was on his face.

Plan part one, Natan’s spell contained. Speare raised the hammer, and another piece of shock crossed the Mayor-Entity’s face. Speare winked. “We are ready to rock.”

“You truly think this plan of Zeus’ will work and this little spell from the seed of Lucifer will hold!” MacCurtis yelled.

Speare moved quickly across the room. An alarm went off and sprinklers started. Smoldering flesh of Slick had created a smoke hazard and triggered the fire alarm. Media would be here soon, not every day there is a fire at City Hall. Sax would be good on trying to spin a cover story if this worked.

The hammer slammed square into MacCurtis’ chest and knocked him hard against the windowed wall of the office. Cracks started to appear. Speare knew if he fell through he would escape the containment spell. Which would create a huge issue.  This whole adventure had started out like a warped Spenser novel, but had quickly deteriorated into something from the mind of Alan Moore or Clive Barker.

Speare hated the supernatural, it was never clean and easy to solve this problem. Mix that crap in with alien sci-fi junk and it was a bad day at the office. Speare crouched low and upper cut with the top of the hammer. “You have no clue ya bastard how much I have this occult-sci-fi shit.”

MacCurtis was dazed. This was going to take finis to use the spike on top, the dazed man, Natan was still using the incantation so all the lightning was swirling around him.  Sax exhaled slowly he still had an arrow trained on MacCurtis’ eye just on the off chance something went askew.

Blood was trickling from MacCurtis’ mouth, and his teeth were loose, a loogie of blood and a few teeth splattered against the shield. “You shall be the Martyrs of my rise to power. This world will be mine.”

Sax burst out laughing. “Dude every night I make love to the supposed Anti-Christ, you jack ass ain’t no world dominator.” He let the arrow fly. Natan winked.

The arrow pierced the one solid blue eye. Speare double gripped the handle of the war hammer and from the crouch drove upwards with the spiked hammer into the entity’s heart. Releasing the handle as MacCurtis fell backwards into the already cracked window through and down wards from seven stories up to the plaza below. Speare and Sax moved towards the shattered window and peer down at the body now impressed into cracked concrete with gawkers, smart phones recording, sirens wailing and phone calls happening.

Natan’s voice subsides.

Sax looks to Speare.  “It is nights like this that remind me why I just want to sell books.”

 

 


Lightning cascaded across the sky. John stroked his formerly salt and pepper, now more salty beard.  “Zed, old friend, is it truly time for this to end.” No answer came. He had a long life. Many lives over many different types of stories, there was moments as he watched the rain fall that he truly felt he was living more inside a comic book than the real world with the types of adventures he had.

His smartphone vibrates, MacCurtis glances down, Rick Saturn, lifelong friend. But in this moment he did not see him as his a friend or even the partner he was in the old Great Crime Fighter days, but as a reminder of where John was now. Alone, and waiting for those he once called proteges that he led into a life of mayhem and murder. Who knew the murder of Reesa would start the end game, then finding the body of Daemon in the gutted bunker, and now Malcolm dead as well. Just Sax and Natan left.

Much more death than when Thor had control of him, yet there was something more to be thought of in all this.  From the corner of his eye he notes Jacqueline moving from the couch in his office towards him. “Going to answer that boss?”

John just shakes his head. It shocked him to find out that the crazy former agent Jake “Shades” Slick had a daughter, he always thought the man whore was infertile or at the very least was smart enough to get a vasectomy. But here was proof.

The phone’s annoying ring tone that was a factory setting signals Rick had left a voicemail. John looks to the clock on the phone, 15 minutes until the kids arrival. The last of the Martyrs, who depending on what one believed about the murderers in the last several days were living up to their names.

“Remember the plan Jacqueline, when they walk in…”

“I shoot them both and drop the extra guns so it looks like I stopped an assassination attempt, but what about Speare boss?” She asks.

John chuckles. “Speare is an idiot, we will easily pay him off.” The thunder cracked loudly and the lights dipped. The Mayor wondered if the privatized energy companies were screwing around with the power grid once more. One of the worst things Ralph Klein ever did on the day California proved de-regulated/privatized power didn’t work, was to then follow through blindly, the one thing he hoped by being in office was to follow the money in the city to see who got the pay offs for the privatization. Unfortunately the tracts were covered to well.

Another flickering, what was the term—brown out?

A loud crack. The room was bathed in lightning.

3 new forms?

Then blackness.

A thud. A bullet shot.

Speare felt the stickiness of blood on his cheek as another flash of lightning illuminated the room. “Oh shit.”


An immortal sociopathic alien entity has been playing with the lives of Supras and Canadians for many years. Years ago, Speare’s friend’s husband came back from the Purgatory between H’el and Valhalla having sacrificed his physical health to vanquish the entity and release its hold on one John MacCurtis, the current mayor of the city.

Yet a string of murders starting with a mystery lady named Reesa has laid the ground work that this entity is not vanquished, and there is a strong possibility that the first victim is actually alive, under an assumed name as the mayor’s hired gunsal, and well, said hired gun was actually carrying the current resurrected sociopathic entity.

This was confirmed in a night meeting, in a closed urban garden with the immortal alien entity known colloquially as Zeus, but the past 40 years had been the hero to Canada known as Zed. The monk that had opened a gap in time and space to reveal a weapon that may do what Natan had been unable to do in the in between.

Zed held the ancient war hammer of the mythological Norse God of Thor. It was tipped with a spike.

Natan smiled at his lover as he reached for it. “Run him through and poof.”

Zed nodded, “but first you have to get him to leave his host and face you as himself.”

Sax looked to Speare, “basically abandoned the one we believe to be Reesa.”

“What happens when this thing leaves a host?” Speare asked.

Natan cracked his knuckles.  “It de-aged MacCurtis, but he was alive when he was possessed, erased most of his memories of the time, until the reawakening of the Great Crime Fighters the past few years.”  Speare nodded, others dubbed it the renewal of hope, but same thing when the true heroes came back. “However if Reesa were dead when taken possession of, there would be but dust left.”

Natan advances towards Zed, “I will finish it this time.”

Speare sidesteps swiping the hammer. Zed laughs. “No, Nate, look you and Sax have a chance at living a life without boundaries, let your love shine. This is the crap I do for my pay cheque.”

It is Sax’s turn to laugh. “You actually think if you pull this out the mayor will pay you?”

“It’s an election year, there is nothing like occult and alien conspiracy in the office to drive paying of invoices on time to ensure proper cover up.” Speare said.

“Speare, I failed the first time to end Thor, I need to finish it.” Natan said.

Speare simply shook his head and hefted the hammer. “No.”

“How will you get him out of, what does she call herself currently, Slick?” Natan asked.

Speare paused, he had not thought that far ahead rather than just try his normal annoying ways to goad the entity to hopefully striking out and creating an opening.  The truth was Speare was more focused on keeping Sax’s husband alive so they could enjoy the weird spontaneous healing this case had inexplicably brought for him, rather than having him come even remotely close to tangling with this thing again.

A quick glance back and Zed had pulled a Batman.

From inside his coat pocket Natan pulls out a smart phone and swipes across John’s number. “MacCurtis, Sax and I need to see you at your office, 30 minutes. Someone murdered Malcolm.”

Some things Speare had not thought out on stopping, that phone call was one. 30 minutes to end game.