Posts Tagged ‘Mystery’


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…

 


Best way to understand the new Johnny Power in action is he reminded him of the Eleventh Doctor, the one that seemed to have adult ADHD or even Hammy off Over the Hedge on the energy drink. It’s usually Speedster’s that have focus issues, but in this new duo it was the leaping over tall buildings and super strength that produced the focus issues.

The Evil was moving rapidly towards the red headed woman dressed for a night out of clubbing. He pegged her age mid-20’s if she was a day…and soon she would join the previous victim. Power is flitting about all over, thankfully Speedster he noted is trying to get a deeper focus with the rumbling skies, flashing lightning and fog.  Fog was new. The Evil was trying to cover its tracks.  He had to stop the advance upon the victim.

What the hell had MacKay been thinking sending these two out into the hunting grounds?

* * * * **

Susan turned to the words. MacKay aimed his shotgun as the dust cleared.

Zed dusted some of the splinters off him. His robes had burn holes.  The skin that was burnt began regenerating as it is what ancient immortal alien beings hiding on earth from those that would destroy them do.

Susan glanced at the immortal being, he appeared to almost be cowering behind MacKay, attempting to still look strong.  The words though kept ringing in her ears. “Bionics on.” Only two others had used that phrase, her best friend and lover, and his best friend. Who was back there?

Pen wasn’t providing any insight, he had startled awake and was softly growling.

Sheath lightning fills the Ashram (double wide) again.

Thunder cracks.

Another voice as the trailer whites out with lightening.

“The Great Crime Fighters I presume.”

* ******

The fog fills in the hunting grounds surrounding the four. He loses track of whom he believes The Evil’s prey to be.

“J somethings coming.” Speedster said.

Power attempts to leap up out of the fog that is at six feet high and rising.

Mystery’s eyes lock onto the prey only… she’s no longer there. “A mirage.” It comes out as a whispering hiss. How could he have missed that.  The Evil was not after another normal mortal but… “a supra.”  He whirls on his wing tips.

The fog turns to fire.

“Fuck me. I know this evil.”

 

* * * * * * *

Another flash of lightening as the dust cleared.

The armour shimmered.

The sword was drawn in a parry formation.

The helmeted eyes crackled with green flame.

“Step aside villain. The godling must perish.” A voice that resounded as a Greek Chorus.

Susan moved in front of MacKay much to his protestations. Her eyes locked on the armoured figure. No recognition from the Knight before them. But there was a pull she felt to look into the reflective helmet.

“Who are you?” Susan asked.

The figure in the armour stepped forward again. “I am the PenDragon. The one this world calls the Bionic Knight. If you stand with this thing called Zed, then you are my foe.” The sword thrusts forward. “And you shall die.”

To Be Continued…

 

 

 

 


He watches the duo that Shotgun, his old adversary, dubbed “Thunder and Lightning”- passionate kids that they are for this line of work. There were two other duos that had the names Thunder and Lightning. Legitimately it wasn’t a nick name to the first, but rather their pseudonyms in a Circus Freak Show that they used as their base of operations for committing crimes. Thunder was the bearded strong woman, Lightning was a mad scientist, she had turned herself literally into electricity. The man remembers his Dad sharing stories of battling them.

The other were young heroes like these two, run away caught up in adventures. Died far too young as a government used them on a message far to dangerous.

But the media had always dubbed the tandem of Johnny Power and Speedster with it. Confusing yes, but wasn’t the world of super heroes such.  These two had done good in their short careers. The man remembered the original Johnny Power that this one had replaced, they had shared many a beer after successful adventures, and saving the universe. This Speedsters grandfather and father he remembered fondly as well. A pretty good BBQ burger maker they were.

Now he watched as they staked out around the hunting ground. MacKay was attempting to keep them safe by giving them busy work. Unfortunately, the busy work had placed them on the hunting path. The ripples of energy were speaking to it. It was back.

He adjusted the kerchief around his face and fixed his fedora. His long trench coat billowed a bit in the wind as his feet floated off the asphalt. The air rippled with thunder, and literal lightning began flashing.  It is coming.

The man floated towards the two standing around the cathedral where the last victim was struck.  The night was falling, and the clubs were opening.

The hunt would begin.

These two would try their best but they are not fully trained, he needed to keep them in sight.

The red head fell behind her group of friends due to the heals she wore. If you could see as he saw, you would see the white teeth glittering from the shadows.

  • * * * * **

MacKay adjusted his worn beaver hide cowboy hat.  The silver highlights in Susan’s hair shimmered with the sheath lightening through the window the trailer dubbed the Ashram. Zed had disappeared into the back bedrooms.

Susan studied her old friend’s face. The crow’s feet were deeper, and the graying whiskers were more salt than pepper now. “This was easier when I was the one playing the villain.”

Susan looked at the haunting in the man’s green eyes. He wasn’t lying to anyone, he had been cast in the role of mentor for this new generation. Not the role he was comfortable in, the old villain turned hero still struggled with the code of villainy in his new reality. But without John and Rick, he was what they had. Hopefully J.P. and the Speedster were up to the challenge of battling the ancient evil.

Pen rested nuzzling her neck. “Probably was, but you wear the white hat well kemosabe.” Susan said. A creaking sound from the back room in the double wide. MacKay’s hand picks up his 12 gauge and he motions with his finger for quiet. He slowly pulls back the triggers. Zed had been levitating, he wouldn’t be creaking.

“Zed?!” MacKay shouts.

Door splinters and an ancient godling alien fly down the hallway with two simple words in a burst of lighting inside.

“Bionics On!”

To Be Continued….


And the game begins anew.

-Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology (2017)

It was the ending quote of a re-telling narrative of the Norse Myths. For the uninitiated, the Norse Myths are the stories of the Vikings Gods. Thor, Odin, Balder, Loki, Freyja, Frey, frost giants, Dwarfs, trolls, Fenris Wolf, Midgard Serpent and the litany goes on. They are stories of beings that age, can be injured, die…and yes with the story of Ragnarok tell the end of everything, and it begins again. I encourage anyone who loves legends of old to pick this up. This is the closing (beginning) quote after Balder & Hod with children of other gods pick up the pieces (images of the gods that have died in Ragnarok) and place then on a new chess board.

But why does it matter in a post about the Great Crime Fighters? For you see as I read through these tales of very human deities. It struck me. Unlike what Morrison would say with the Justice League of America that it reflects the Pantheon of the Greek-Roman Olympus. The heroes in the Tyverse, with their foibles, humanness, and yes, legacy characters (ala the ending/beginning of Ragnarok) show that these are the myths that really informed shaping the pulp adventures backdrop.

The Great Crime Fighters were a coming together of heroes to make the world better. The acronym came out of elementary math class of Greatest Common Denominator, and how my mind plays with such things. Much like Thor with other Asgardians on journeys. Here we saw many groupings over the past 30 years in the G.C.F., some awesome (if I do say so myself), some not so awesome. But what held them together was a sense of adventure, even during the “government years” that saw under the umbrella the “Prophets” which were the heroic team for public eye, and the “Martyrs” a wet works-Task Force X version of anti-heroes to do dirty jobs.

Then they vanished, and the time of the non-hero, vigilante took hold. But in the stand of City Hall with the Bionic Knight and PinBall, the heroes of the Great Crime Fighters returned…Johnny Power, Speedster, Zed, Shotgun. Older but willing to be heroes.

Yet were they all older?

Remember what was said about legacy characters?

In the Quest of Rick Saturn, the team was alluded too as those that would support Rick in his journey for his friend, John’s, resurrection. Yet he turned down Zed hard.

So who are the new G.C.F that will be bounding onto the screen without warning?

William “Shotgun” MacKay – a former hit-man/super-villain, now a grizzled veteran that works to train new heroes in heroics. His nickname comes from the fact his left arm used to be a shotgun but during an unknown mission in Afghanistan, his gun arm was destroyed and his arm actually regrew.

Speedster– Kyler Storm was the Speedster that fought along the Bionic Knight, during the City Hall throw down it was believed he had come out of—well being missing… the truth is it was his daughter, Kyla, stepping into her father’s running shoes. Power: Super speed.

Johnny Power- Strong. Able to fly. Darn near invulnerable. Johnny Power has been dubbed the Thunder to Speedster’s lightning in the press. The original Johnny Power was almost immortal, and if not for a contained implosion linked to a singing thong on a downed mad scientist robot, he would be guiding his friend’s daughter. The Power part of Johnny came from the Djinn that merged with a human host. At the death of Johnny Power the first, an essence of the Djinn escaped and found itself connecting with John Jackson, a teenage run away that came to know Shotgun after attempting to pick his pocket.

Mystery –  Like his name implies, he is an enigma. No one knows where this telekinetic who shows glimmers of pyrokinesis and possibly telepathy came from. Rumours have it that he was the son of a Street Avenger, uncle to another Street Avenger, and himself served in the role until “dying”. Yet Mystery, is simply Mystery.

Zed- Zed is simply Zed. Shotgun does not trust him, and Zed does not trust Mystery.

What questions arise when an ancient evil comes a calling? One that before could only be silenced by the power of the PenDragon—a power lost in the Camelot dimension as seen at the end of the Quest of Rick Saturn the Bionic Knight…

Great Crime Fighters Together!

Coming Soon.


Speare had learned that sweater vest was not a good shot. Sax was not so sure, but as the question hung in the air. “Where is my soul mate?” Speare noted the Vest’s hands went to a hip holster (did they still even make those?) and a quick draw that would leave McGraw shy.

Sax dodged as the gun went off.

Speare used a flying tackle.

The bullet splintered a book case and came to rest in a stack of the Bard’s Spirit by some spiritual bloke. Vest’s hand let the gun go and skitter across the laminate as Speare used his right forearm across the guy’s throat to pin him to the ground.

A gacking sound from Vest or had he called himself Samuel? Speare relents on some pressure to only have a forked tongue strike out and smack him clear in the eye.

“AH!” Speare rolls back as out of nowhere Vest connects with a roundhouse.  That catches Speare’s chin and sends him down. Not what he was expecting from the accountant type. Speare tries to shoulder roll up only to have a knife slice and stick into his right shoulder throwing his roll off and landing him on his back.

Vest is now standing over him. Speare’s eyes look to where the gun should be.

Not there.

Vest’s hands.

Clenched but empty.

A crack of a shot. Wood of a bookshelf and some newly shot book pages’ rain down.

“Okay sweater vest halt, desist and quit trying to act macho to my private eye friend with the knife in his shoulder.” Sax’s voice is bordering on what would be classed as a Dad voice.  “And answer me simply why the fuck you are calling my husband your soul mate?”

“Because honey, we are married.” Natan’s voice entered the silent bookstore like liquid silk.

 


Speare hated the smell of closed up spaces. It didn’t matter if it was a dwelling place, a store or in this case a hyper classified government bunker for a team of supra’s doing black ops, they all broke down to the old man smell mixed with heavy amounts of dust, and the same thick layers of cobwebs.

This one also looked like it had been an extra set on Saving Private Ryan. Slick was jumpy with her hand resting on her glocs as they moved their way through what was the control room. John fumbled with a control panel cover to get at wiring.  Whatever had gone down here had also ended with the government not paying the power bill. He muttered under his breath about jump starting the power back up. Sparks, obviously in the dark illuminated by smart phone light John didn’t match the right colours.

Creaks. Skittering sounds. Speare knew it wouldn’t be rats, Alberta had a rat patrol that for the most part kept the province rat free, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t mice, voles, gophers, badgers or worse, skunks—not enough lemon juice in the world for the last one.

The sound of a vacuum wooshing. “How damn! Not bad for a colour blind mayor.” John MacCurtis exclaimed.

Colour blind? Speare shook his head as what was dubbed the control room came alive with light, the monitors were smashed, wires were dangling and sparking, one heck of a fire hazard is what this bunker had become. Not to mention dust bunny.

“What are you hoping to find boss man, this place has been scrubbed.” Slick said.

Speare tuned out the chit chat between boss and employee, as he noted there was a door slightly askew in the corner of 1100 square foot room. But that was just a guess off the top of his head as he moved to it. With all the stainless steel looking like something out of Star Trek, and the Tesla coils he was sure Minion from Megamind would state were from a dealer in Switzerland…

A wooden closet door. It was stuck. Speare pulled on the door knob and the whole door came ff the hinges, a thud before he could brace himself dust and cleaning supplies, mops, and brooms falling out and then a solid 200 lbs of dead weight slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground.

Dead skin flaked off across Speare’s bald had and caught in his stubble as the body’s head bounced off his. Two bullets landed square into the now empty closet, Slick was in a squawt with both guns drawn and fired.

MacCurtis leapt over broken furniture and moved the corner. He heaved the body off of Speare and let out a gasp.

“Oh shit.”

Speare took a moment to regain his senses and brush the dead skin and body dust off as he slowly rose up and looked at what had hit him. It was a male, more mummified than decomposed, let appeared as if it had some of the skin flayed from his back. His face was deformed.

“A guard?”

“Good guess Speare, but no. After the last stand here when I exorcised the entity from me, the government came through, collected the dead, took other causalities to the hospitals and debriefed the living. The bunker was sealed and the program closed.” MacCurtis stated.

“So this body came in after sealing?” Speare asked.

Slick holstered her weapons like a gunfighter out of an American western Dime Novel and walked over to where the body was found.  “Know this Mummy boss?”

John looked at the mummified scarred face.

“Reesa,  I will always love you.” Daemon said stealing a quick kiss before tearing out into the desert in a dune buggy. The girl laughed as Malcolm, the large albino, fired the gun from the top, she slightly used her telepathy to push people’s mind to confusion.

Daemon, her love, met at the house ran by MacCurtis. He had been saved from a fire that his addict mother could not be, he still bore the scars. But the flames also gave him something else that night.

A large fence door loomed, that crackle in the corner of his good right eye.

A bolt of lightning and outwards to freedom from the camp.

John knelt down, crossed himself, it had been years since he had attended a Mass, but it seemed appropriate to begin his own reconciliation work with this piece with his past. He then placed his thumb on the dead boy’s forehead, and drew a cross on his forehead, his lips, and the chest where the heart would be.

Speare watched the scene. The religiosity of it all, MacCurtis was seeking redemption in this process, it was why he had sent the Bionic Knight away. But how does one claim redemption from a time when they were possessed by an extraterrestrial entity? His body, possibly his mind, but did he have culpability for actions?

A group of adolescents to young adults used for essentially suicide missions by his own government. Somehow they survived, when one didn’t it fell apart. This bunker was destroyed during MacCurtis’ exorcism, but after sealing the bunker someone killed this mummy and left them here as a message.

“John, who is it?” Speare asked.

John looked at this detective who had been brought into some of the darkest parts of his soul. Pieces he never wanted to think about, parts he wanted to remain dead. A detective that was friends with one of the kids, the Martyrs. Yet they had survived and moved beyond what Thor had attempted to do.

“His name is Daemon, no one knew his last name. Like all the Martyrs he was found in the system, and brought to the house to be trained and used. He was alive at exorcism, and after.  He was Reesa’s boyfriend.” MacCurtis said. Speare was not sure if that was a tear of sorrow or just the build-up of dust.

“So then the next obvious question—how the hell did he wind up dead in here after it was sealed?”

“By Jove Slick I do believe we will make a detective out of your thugness yet.” Speare retorted.

The air felt like it crackled around them. Another mysterious body, thunder rumbled over her. Speare looked at John, “who exorcised Thor from you?”