Posts Tagged ‘Killer Faces’


The 1996 made for t.v. Doctor Who movie proves what can go oh so wrong with a less than 90-minute re-boot/re-imagine. That is they got bagged down in kitchen sinking the explanation. I hope that isn’t this type of story as we move towards election day. I made a promise to my wife that this would be come her time, especially after my last time saving the universe. The only quest, Rick Saturn (that’s me gentle reader) of the left-hand tremor and foggy brain is going on is battling the school board to see my twins with special needs as full kiddos who should be able to get to school on time and get educated.

Yup. The once great crusading journalist, and super hero…is destined to stay at home parentdom if S.K.S.’s polls are to be believed and she coasts into the Mayor’s office, I will be the spouse of Her Worship Susan Kobwash-Saturn. Only a few days left.

And I just watched the ring of power of Camelot launch out of a Husky House diner parking lot to find a new host.

Why?

William Shotgun MacKay—former villain turned best buddy (or only buddy still alive) basically stating that it is time for a new Bionic Knight, bearer of the PenDragon to stand on the front line, with the ancient evil revived.

I wipe sweat okay tear away as I leave the diner from paying. McKay is waiting by his truck.

“How long?”

“I dunno. It found me when a hero was needed, and I just kind of hung around.” I respond.

He laughs. “I guess that sums up our generation of hero, just hung around.”

I nod and begin walking home. He hollers at me. “One last thing, my friend.”

I turn to the old grizzled killer who is learning a new way. “What?”

“Get in and see.”  McKay said.

It is the least I could owe him. I still feel the magic within me, it is a dull thrumming, for the years I communed with other realms. Since my return what used to exist as a small pet dragon, simply is within me now. It feels good, not a loss, to put the power out there to claim another pure of heart.

What did Shotgun want to show me?

It had been left a smoldering wreck, but he had bought it and replaced the double wide with a log cabin. It was the new ashram, or as McKay phrased it, “Sanctuary. Figured the crew needed a place to come and get away. Also…”

“You always hated the noise of the downtown apartment.” I said.

The old guy just nodded and snorted. Leaning against his truck. Part of me wondered where the ring went to settle.  A slight hand tremor. “Do you think we will get back to normal anytime?” Mckay has new scars due to his run in with K. I know he wants me back as the Knight, but a promise is a promise. And well, damn it, there is simply a time to step back and let others stand up. Besides, with him running the Killer Face Cult, it has been low key in the city.

“Johnny and Speedster have been out on patrols.”

“And?”

“Quiet. Too damn quiet. When it got quiet like this back in the day Rick…”

“Was usually just before you and a couple of the other yokels would try something.” I said.

Shotgun laughed. “And here I thought only the Flash talked about his Rogues so fondly.”

“It was a different time man. Too many saved universes. So many deaths.” It’s a pregnant pause over what is left unsaid. We had outlived so many of our friends. One of the things I believe could be wrong with me is PTSD. Maybe therefore it was so easy to step back and place house parent and let Susan shine even thought I know new evil has arisen. “John couldn’t change the city.”

“those demon aliens took him down, but in the end, he tried.” Shotgun said.

A crackle from inside the truck. A scanner. Police scanner. So old school. But clear as day.

No code.

Just an exclamation.

“Bloody hell the Cult has exploded. Bionic Knight on site! GCF inbound. Need all hands!”

McKay smirks.

“I can get the bus man. Get going those brats need ya, you old bastard.”

To Be Continued…

 

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“Every story has three parts, the beginning, middle and the twist.”

-R.L. Stine (Goosebumps Movie 2015)

                Mystery floats up. His eyes look through the window. There is probably an altar with flammables, but I cannot speak to his theatrics or if he would just look for a sprinkler to light up…

                When the wall explodes inwards sending sandstone and wood careening inside and the screamo music turns to screams.

                Mystery lets out a cackle “for Zed.”

 

The Street Avenger is a legacy hero. Many generations tough mo-fos battling from the shadows and keeping Gothic City safe from hooligans and villains. I had the privilege of battling many during my less than heroic past years, some may say I was one of said hooligans, but I was rarely caught. Douglas Katz was one who perished at the hands of a World War II villain known as K, it was short hand for what the Third Reich had dubbed him, “Nazi Killer” (ever the creative ones those puds). He was what was known as a tri-kinetic (telepath, telekinetic, pyro-kinetic).

Said K looked like he perished in the same battle that claimed Douglas’ life. But K was a monster that survived and came back to almost wipe out the whole family of generations, but a new hero rose for a time and defeated K.

During that battle Mystery came out.

Recently he has rejoined the Great Crime Fighters, and stipulates that he is Douglas (not Kevin as I mistakenly believed, old man memory I tell ya). During his recent renaissance, he has shown low levels of telepath (or is it simply over active empathy and intuition?) and a glimmer of pyro-kinesis.

Fast forward to the attack on the Ashram and the surgical assault and assassination of Zed, which led us to the cult-gang Killer Faces, brought us outside their temple (in genius tax exempt organized scam if I will) and the idea to drum out the punks by a simple act of triggering what I hoped would be a sprinkler system.

Instead I get a wall exploding in ward. Security alarm going off. Folks from the cult and neighbours with their phones out video taping, and sirens in the back ground on their way here. Sure, technically we are the heroes, but not really the well know variety. The upside is the exploding wall has silenced the god-awful music sounded like a cat being skinned from the inside out.

“Where is Killer Face?” Mystery’s voice echoes.

I draw my double barrel and as I look upon the armed goons coming over the wall wish I wasn’t packing rubber buck shot in this one.

“We are Killer Face.” Sounds like an off key Greek Chorus. Aim and fire. More screams as I open and load more cartridges.

Mystery is floating into the temple. His telekinesis is tossing folks, some bleeding from being hit by flying wall sandstone and wood. Hoping some of those sirens are EMS, there’s going to be a few hurting units inside. Mystery does not look or sound happy.

Never realized how much Mystery was…mean.

Another volley of rubber buck shot, reload and fire again. Groans but I am at the wall.

Mystery knocks out one KF member. A large gorilla looking man is running his way. His back is turned. I aim to fire rubber and knock him off attack, but Mystery whirls. A jagged piece of wood flies loose from the wall flying through the right eye socket of the assailant.

Ok, Mystery missed the memo as the cult member drops dead.

“We don’t kill mate.”

He whirls in mid-air. His fedora flies off as his eyes flare with crackling blue flame. “They killed Zed. They started this war.”

“So you will end it?”

“Damn straight, Will.”

I feel a telekinetic push knock me back hard on my back. I catch around the altar one shrouded in black cloaks, a middle-aged man with that Charles Manson look and a dagger in hand. The Bishop himself. “We killed no one tonight, it is murder sabbath!”

Wind is out of my lungs when I hit the dust.

I stare at the way the wall came down.

The Ashram.

I hear again the Bishop screaming they killed no one.

Can’t get to my rifle. But in my boot, my hunting knife. A bit awkward but throw while he’s distracted.

The temple wall.

The ashram.

Street Avengers were never tri-kinetics.

K was.

Douglas helped his nephew beat K once and for all then retreated into the shadows.

Shit how could we all have missed this.

The knife leaves my hand as Mystery is focused on the leader of the cult.

Sirens are closer.

A screech of pain. My knife hit his shoulder.

Mystery wheels around to focus on me. Hopefully this Bishop sees his opening. “Do not think you will not join Zed tonight William.”

“Precisely you murderous sanctimonious sack of shit.” If I could stand I would spit for emphasis, but I think I bruised or broke a rib when I landed.

Cars are screeching.

The Bishop screams trying to rally the disillusioned troops.

Mystery sticks out his arm and catches the Bishop by the throat.

“Killer Face Prime I presume. Consider this your 2 weeks notice.” When a neck is snapped it is an eerie sound. Even though he was a murderer, that was cold. The body crumples down onto the dust of the yard. “If you wish to live, I am the new Prime.”

There appears to be no dissension in his new ranks.

Mystery touches the ground before me.

Police have the temple surrounded.

The kerchief is loose and Mystery lets it fall away.

Zed once told me it only takes a little bit to embed your presence into another. The human mind like a computer, a skilled telepath could create a Trojan horse virus to embed their essence into another for a complete take over.

The eyes I stared into I remember from the past. A cold killer’s glare. One crafted in the very bosom of hate.

“K.”

“Very good weakest link. This temple is my home, these worshipers are now my followers. This city will be mine. Let your sniveling heroes know their time of life is limited. This city will be mine.” His face turns into a sneer. “Let your friend Rick know, I will have his head on a pike.”

I watch as he floats back into the temple.

A new evil begins….

 

 


I hate Killer Faces. They are the worst, its not just an intricate street gang, but one wrapped in a wanked out killer cult motif they try to tie back to weird practices of the occult and esoteric or so the revolving door of Killer Face Prime that leads them. I say it’s a revolving door because there is no way it is the same dumb ass running the show for over 30 years, but stranger things have happened.

The most twisted thing is that they pooled money and purchased a “temple” for their “services” where they gather to hear the gospel (keep in mind ancient word gospel was a political statement) according to K.F.P… The temple they purchased was a deconsecrated Anglican church. Which keeps its doors locked unless you have this week’s password. Which is why currently Kevin—sorry Mystery—an ol’ Shotgun are waiting outside.

They haven’t kept up well with landscaping, grass is so brown its blowing away in the dust, and five trees would have more life if they were driftwood.

Over the solid oak double doors is a cross that is stain glassed images of the stations of the cross. If I was a religious man this would be sacrilegious in my mind. Instead it is quite in genius for the scam, the members of the gang/cult unbelievably tithe to the temple so they are not only used as canon fodder, but also pay for the privilege.

Mystery is still trying to get a telepathic fix, but he is not a strong telepath, so its not the easiest thing to do. Part of me wants to knock and open and just see what happens. But, I also am not a young man, and I counted at least 50 inside and that was for the 20 minutes we were watching before service began. No telling how many may have arrived earlier.  Can’t believe this collection of idjits got the drop on Zed.

“Ready Kevin?”

“For the last time Shotgun, my name is not Kevin.” Mystery said.

“Oh right, sorry it’s Mystery.”

“No, you daft wanker, my name is Douglas, Kevin was my dad. What B.K.’s fist back in the day rattled your brain too much back in the day.” Mystery retorts. I can’t help the laughter escaping. Damn, he’s right. Kevin was entering retirement due to being crippled at the hands of K, and it was Doug that was the Street Avenger during the early days of Rick. The one that others believed was killed but no body was ever found. “Besides I wanted to use Enigma, but that was during Rick’s turn at being touch brooding mystery tech man. So, I took Mystery instead.”

I nod as the weird screamo wafts and hurts the ear drums out of the temple. “Why not use Street Avenger?” Valid question it being a family legacy name and all.

He dips his hat at me. I see a little flame crackle in the corner of his eye. “My nephew was the last Street Avenger. He gave his life and the lineage ended with him. I honour my family by continuing the fight, and letting a good, honourable death stand at the end of our legacy.”

Sometimes it is true, the heroes have darker souls than the villains.

But that spark.

“How strong of a pyro kinetics?

“Why?” His eyes follow mine to the cracked open windows around where the sanctuary would be. And I believe if this was a cartoon there would be a lightbulb going off above his head. If the temple is up to code he would set off the sprinklers, if not…well humans are resilient in survival.

Mystery floats up. His eyes look through the window. There is probably an altar with flammables, but I cannot speak to his theatrics or if he would just look for a sprinkler to light up…

When the wall explodes inwards sending sandstone and wood careening inside and the screamo music turns to screams.

Mystery lets out a cackle “for Zed.”

To be Continued…


Speedster called, but she’s still laid up at home and Johnny Power is playing nursemaid. That left the mysterious, Mystery to float down to the ashram to investigate. I know he likes to play off that he is this living enigma, but truly that is for those outside of the know. Not ol’ Shotgun have you though. This was a Street Avenger. It appeared the villainous K (a Nazi super-killer) had done him in, but left him in the sewers with amnesia for years. He finally regained his memory, a Kevin Katz. But still hiding from his true self. A tri-kinetic, low level, part telekinetic, telepath with flickering’s of pyro kinesis.

I stand at the gate. The ashram has seen better days, burnt out, by my old eyes, from the inside out.  The metal burst in such a way to look like a tormented lotus in bloom. At the centre, pipes twisted into an upside down cross.

Puff intakes as I light a Cuban and begin walking towards the floating man in the billowing trench coat and fedora. Rumour had it that Zed was some ancient alien entity that our ancestors in Greece called Zeus, in Rome, Jupiter. His latest form to survive he had taken on the monastic form.

But here he was stripped to the skivvies, upside down like tradition tells us they did St. Peter. The glimmering fires I can see the scourge marks on the back. But his throat is slit. Who knew alien-godling-immortals bled chartreuse. If I wasn’t processing information to spot some clues I am sure I would laugh.

“Will.” Mystery’s voice sounds like a bad impersonation of the Shadow radio voice.

“Mystery.” I know who he is. He still won’t admit it. Not worth the oxygen having the same argument over and over again. Wonder though if he remembers the many times we tangled back in the day. Ah the bad ol’ days, sometimes it is hard to not want to take that path again, so comfortable like a worn pair of Levi originals they used to sell with Harley’s. The new path still takes breaking in of the new jeans creases.  But breaking in is the way to repay my karmic debt, as Zed once intoned it to me.

Now I am looking at—friend is to strong a word—colleague? Bit more, teammate just hanging there. “Any idea when rescue gets here to cut the poor bastard down?” I ask.

Mystery softly lands before me. “Rumour has it, Rick called in a favour to allow me to attempt to see if I could capture anything from his essence.” It is a telepaths trick, for those a bit stronger, that they sometimes if they respond quick enough can grasp a bit of synaptic energy and replay the last moments for clues. “Sadly, we were too late.”

I nod slowly, but my eye catches a blinking green light. Mystery’s eye slit (only thing visible between fedora brim and black kerchief) moves to the blinking light. I take a puff on my cigar as I move and squat. I go to click the flashing button on the cube, reminds me of that asinine power saving power bar the government gave me for free a few months back.

Mystery uses a telekinetic push and holds my hand still. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Well, I either press it and it goes boom, or we wait till the flashing stops and its goes boom, either way boom.”

I actually believe Mystery laughs as he releases my hand and I double tap (yes I loved Zombieland too) the button.

The blinking stops.

I exhale a little, didn’t think I was holding my breath.

Mystery looks at me, I give him my best Han Solo grin as the box pops apart and a beam opens wide with a whir. Hologram. I really hate this sci-fi shit. Not as much as the godling-alien murder crap, but its in the top 20 things I despise (though surprisingly not as high yuppified coffee bevvies).

The image is simple.

How did they manage to pull of murdering an entity whose twin existed and required literally the Son of the Devil to exorcise?

Mystery exhales. “Killer Faces.”

To Be Continued…