Posts Tagged ‘PenDragon’


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….


It is weird the things that run through your mind as a disembodied journalist, who has a theological background (though comics and myths already alluded higher meaning to me). As Rick floats through this weird limbo since imploding the dimension once known as Camelot.  Must be Anglican guilt speaking to him (it’s like Catholic guilt, but the inner voice comes with a British Accent) …for it is the story of Salome that speaks into his mind when he notes the small portal spark open and mind push Pen through to his wife.

Time to change things up. Time to be able to step through the horrors forced to be apart of. A child, used a lecherous offering by a megalomaniac villain. Herod Tetrarch. The Herod family was not about their faith or their people, they were about power. They played all sides of Roman Civil wars to ensure they always maintained power regardless of the winner. As Rick sends Pen through he sees the Ashram, Zed reminded him of the Herod family.

Yet this Herod may or may not have killed his own brother to wed his brother’s wife. But only to legally get to the niece.  This is the activity John the (Harbinger) Baptist called him out about publically, and was imprisoned for. But the line about the woman scorned. For it was Herod’s wife/sister-in-law that saw the need to go further. One of Rick’s favourite versions is found in Levi’s reimagining of the Cosmic Christ story in the early 1900’s the Aquarian Gospel.

But it is the lecherous uncle that truly wants Salome, and gets her to dance/strip in his drunken party.  And when she has him so wound up, he states he will give her anything, and that is when the mother strikes stating for her daughter to ask for John’s head on a platter…and yes it does not go well for the young Salome presented with this dead head on a silver platter.

The pursuit of absolute power pushing out anything else. The drive for revenge and being “right”. All warnings for any hero.  Warnings to ensure decisions made do not affect the young or that trauma is not passed down.

Rick’s astral projection was not alone in these ruminations. For next to him, was his old partner, John MacCurtis. Believed dead. Unable to be redeemed after he had been possessed by an insane alien entity seeking to destroy all.  The death if the truth was fully leaked out would have left him tarnished, cast away as a traitor, a fraud. His long hero lineage not seen.

Which brings Rick back to ancient ponderings around the child Salome, and the woman Salome at the tomb. The ultimate healing-redemption for this traumatized-abused child assassin.   For there is growing thoughts after the head on the platter she fled to the streets, and found home within the Christines. Even so to become part of the strong inner circle of women that stood their sacred ground at the darkest time.

“Rick what’s the score?”

“About the same Johnny.”

“Funny I thought we used to have bodies.”

“Okay maybe a bit worse off than usual. But I got Pen to Susan.” Rick said.

Rick’s mind was reeling, they had to get back. Pen was a toggle back to the mortal realm, the earthly what was usually known as Midgard. But there without him, the ancient evil had re-manifested. He could hear the echoes. The implosion of the realm that trapped him here had kept him trapped had allowed for the cell to break open.

John glanced at the small portal as it was about to close. Rick was his friend. Had been for most of his life. Partners in many world saving ventures. Rick had stood by him when he lost his family. Stood by him through the craziness with the Thor possession. Stood with him through the mayoral race. Through being mayor. The dark time and the re-emergence. And even with the darkness seizing his soul again. Yet even with dying so that the world could be saved, and being on the wrong side of good in that moment. His friend came for him again.

But it was time.

Time to truly pay him back.

“Rick!”

His friend turned.

Focus complete.

Energy shared.

Peace earned.

With two final words

“Bionics On!”

As his fist knocked his friend towards the portal that he was tethered to Pen through.

John MacCurtis winked at his friend.

“Give Susie a hug for me.”

Rick’s astral body struck the portal before closure.

A flash of lightning.

As the limbo remaining from Camelot.

As John MacCurtis.

Winked out.

To Be Continued…


Susan’s fingers glided across the tablet looking for information. It had been a few years, but she remembered what her sister would always say about these weird sideways adventures with Rick.  Julia, before she became another victim of the ancient evil in its last manifestation. This thing had made it personal coming back now.

MacKay was off to try and gather the troops up.  She was sitting in his old beat up F-150 with 3 million kliks if there was one. MacKay was in the trailer that Zed had dubbed the ashram. The last person that had seen her husband alive, but William didn’t think it would be good for her to confront him. She had to shift those thoughts, Rick was still alive out there somewhere.  Someday, this twisty turvy city seemed like Riverdale or Twin Peaks, not a run of the mill Sherlock Holmes mystery.

Susan’s finger taps the shut down. “Screw it.” The G.C.F. always had this idea of pushing out the spouses/romantic entanglements. The big bad hero club, and in her heart she believed that could’ve been what caused the dark time of heroes that were less than heroic or anti-hero as the media would say. Her fist slammed into the door hard.

The golden goggles were Kyler’s, but the teenage girl’s face was… “Kyla.”

“Mrs. Saturn.”

“It’s Susan, Kyla, been a while since I changed your diapers.” She hears William’s voice hollering her in. A muscle-bound man on the couch must be the new Johnny Power. Zed rose from a cushion and walked over to her.

His lips curling into a sneer.

“Madame soon to be Mayor.”

“Fuck you.” It was only the second time in her life she had ever decked anyone, the first had been John MacCurtis when it was believed Rick had given his life to save him, this time it was she was done with the immortal alien-godling playing Buddhist. Her knuckles hit his chin and he had spin as he went falling back into William.

Who side stepped and let the entity hit the shag carpet of the trailer. His second visit recently by a Saturn ending the same way. As he pushed up, lightning crackled in his and the air around him swirled with a black hole opening.

A small green dragon about the size of a pen flies out.

And rests on Susan’s shoulder, purring slightly in her ear.

She looks right at Zed.

“What did you do?”

To Be Continued…


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…

 

 

 

 


The Calamity was what it was described as in my own soul. I am one of two folks that remember it, and the only one still alive. It was when a multi-verse came crashing down into a singular reality, much like the Crisis and Flashpoint story-lines in DC Comics, and Marvel Comics (2016) Secret Wars. It was a time when I met other “me” with code names like Pirate, Arrow (John was the sidekick Poison) or went by my first and middle name as the PI Rick Tracy.

The calamity brought all this together and stripped all that away from me. The heroic identities existed but their secret identity had shifted as the primary Rick Saturn was tied to the PenDragon power and the Bionic Knight. Much like the John MacCurtis primary was tied to Herne and the Bionic Archer. Yet is should have been a sign to me that something was awry that during the darkness we fought back by bringing the Great Crime Fighters back together, it was his PinBall self that re-emerged not Herne. It meant the other entity was still existing inside him despite an exorcism that was have supposed to solve that during the Calamity.

Everything coming together as I enter the Camelot realm.

I remember John sharing during the Calamity he entered another realm as a Tulpa and wound up on a journey of spiritual pilgrimage that ended with the Ankh brand emerging on his arm and bringing the Calamity to a close. His awareness began to fade over time of it (the Thor blocking the Herne) but as the campaign heated up for mayor I am not going to lie our family’s drifted. John was up for full disclosure of his super hero past (easy when no powers still there) and could not comprehend why I did not want to unmask with him and endorse him. It was a rift that during the darkness mended mostly because of my supposed death coming into Camelot and bearing witness to Merlin’s passing, and him blessing me fully with the power of the PenDragon.

Now in the armour, with Pen having become scaled armour on my right arm, Excalibur at my side.  Here I am fully powerful. Still don’t comprehend why it does not exist within the Earthly realm, but hey that is a wonderance for another day and time. Here I am gliding through the air over the green valleys towards the…

Okay last time I was here Camelot was gloriously golden and diamonds shining.  Not a burned out hulk of a building with bodies strewn everywhere.  Bodies? But they are of mythical monsters and beings.

In the doorway a short black hair covering, claws…I know that hero. I have fought beside him years ago, he vanished believed dead, but blood is dripping from those claws.

“Badger!” Draw Excalibur and stand at the ready.

The short were-badger turns to me. Teeth bared. Flesh of a troll or a goblin hanging loose and he lets out a roar. More beast than man right now. “You shall die Arthur.”

It is a guttural growl. Seeing me as many in this realm would. As the immortal king of the unified Kingdoms, Arthur PenDragon. Yet if Badger is here, his eyes are glowing with green energy. Herne energy.  “Where is the Wilde Hunt?”

The Badger spins and I view the carcasses. Did the god go mad outside of John?

Or was the god already mad?

Is this why the power does not fully manifest for myself in the earth realms? Is this where I would become more monster than man?  Part of me is thinking I should have brought the rest of the G.C.F with me…but then I would’ve had to explain laying out of Zed to them.

I need in the castle. My arm is warming. I feel Pen’s impulse, the Round Table. Something there. But this thing is in my way. What’s that Pen? I need to release Herne?  How?

I am not killing Badger.

The thing leaps at me.

Badger was an ally.

But in this world. Can this truly be the Badger I knew?

Its claws are powered by mystic energy and I feel it slice through my armour. That’s not supposed to be possible.

Damn that burns.

I land on the grass and roll away.

Okay Pen guide me on reading this.

Eureka!

Herne needed a vessel. Badger those years ago, believed missing/dead had died, but that was when Thor took over John and cast Herne out, Herne not wanting to be dispersed into the Nexus grabbed onto any physical form and brought it to a place it could survive.

Now I need Herne released to renew this realm…no a misread of the impulse of energy. Herne needs to be released to judge this realm for in judging it…judging is wrong word? Seriously Pen what word are you trying to pass through me?

Vanishing point.

Herne needs to be released so this realm will return to pure energy.

Then what?

Get to the table.

Get the heart.

Know John.

Seems simple.

Okay Excalibur are you ready. Move the blade to my right hand.  If this is going to work I am going to have to drive the sword into Badger and??? Seriously, break it?

Exhale slowly… Badger is huffing, growling and moving fast towards me.

Fly fast.

Swing sword out.

Badger hits the grass and rolls back to the entrance.  He is scampering inside.

Chase. Dodge inside. Move around the fires, leap and dodge the bodies. The were-badger-godling is moving towards the Roundtable room.

The huge oaken double doors are burned down and it bursts sending burnt wood timbers and ash everywhere. A chunk slaps hard into the centre of my golden armour darkening it.

The Badger is in the room. I re-adjust my eyes for night vision as I step inside. Trying to track it.

The chairs are overturned. There is bodies of knights strewn about. But in the centre of the table is an orb. That is new I…in the orb a face.

“Help me Rick.”

Damn it. In the centre of the heart of Camelot is the soul of my friend, John MacCurtis.

The Badger snarls and leaps onto the table heading to reach the orb.

Pen sends a shot through my arm.

Stab the orb.

Shatter Excalibur.

But the last two words cause me to move with the sword ready to plunge.

Save John.

The Badger grabs the orb as the tip of Excalibur pierces it.

Green, red and white energy burst.

But those two words flash across my eyes with the unearthly guttural scream I am not sure if it is me, Pen, Badger, Herne, John or all of us…but two words leave my lips for sure:

Live John.

As all goes black

To Be Concluded


As a 12 years old I went off to the young writer’s conference in the city and took a workshop on characters in story from one of my fave authors of the time- Gordon Korman, Canadiana at its finest. The story of his first book published at age 12 was inspirational.  The surreal memoir of the language arts teacher taking ill and the gym teacher taking over and assigning a story for the rest of the school year seemed far fetched, but with my rudimentary understanding of school systems I could see it happening.

The joking he told of trying to tie Jaws and Airplane together in the story and then the infinite wisdom of his Mum, write what you know…and the rest would seem history for the MacDonald Hall (Bruno & Boots) series as he pondered what he actually knew at his age, and that was school, but the idea of characters and then the students having parents seemed daunting—hence a boarding school,  a Canadian boarding school.

I liked that idea, and thought maybe that’s what my life was about, perhaps the grand author didn’t really want to deal with families and that’s why I was orphaned, yet got bored and invented my adoptive parents. Speak to the coping tools of a family massacre tragedy as a toddler.

It always astounds me what runs through my mind as I walk down the hill towards the double wide trailer surrounded by nothing but sand within the city. Zed had taken over the plot and redeveloped it after a Canadian government operation went sideways, and he watched friends die. He left what has been dubbed the Agency, mostly because no one can remember the actual name of the now defunct place and the original budget lines to fund it in the Mulroney-Chretien years was buried under innocuous within the RCMP-CSIS as “Office Supplies-Northern Arctic”.

The front door is open, the screen door is closed. No doorbell, just a simple wind chime hanging, I let my forefinger tap it so it serenades a little as I open the door and step in.

Directly on the right in the living room area, the kitchen has semi walls to enclose, to my left is a display wall that separates a meditation room, there is a full bath and two bedrooms down a short hallway. Within the living room to my left is a collection of meditation cushions/benches as Zed does not believe in furniture. Large fish tank fills the window designed with prism glass so the sunshine coming through creates colours throughout the room.

For the super set in Canada what Zed has dubbed the Ashram (this trailer, surrounded by sand garden) has become a bit of an energy nexus for some of the weirder. It could also be because Zed was the new living form of a fallen perhaps resigned godling-alien, Zeus, that gained the human host a symbiosis and immortality. The good to the Thor entity’s bad that inhabited John. Which honestly means when he calls saying there may be a way or there is information leads me to believe it is true.

“Zed.” The deep maroon robes as he levitates in the centre of the room, lit by sunlight colours dancing, in the evening it will be lit by candles. Also since taking down the younglings that just wanted to kill the bad guy, Zed has not been my favourite person, actually, him selling my secret ID to the agency a few decades back is a major reason I believe he is an idiot and every so often dream of killing him. “What do you know about John?”

He slowly glides down onto his feet. His serene smile makes me want to punch him out, but again I need to figure out what he knows about John, and if the spirit of my dead friend is manifesting to me or is it just my grieving mind and heart playing tricks on me. So yes, sometimes the villain in your narrative can become your ally to get to a truth you are seeking.

“Richard, long time no talk. How are you?” Zed’s cadence is that of a radio announcer, and fills the trailer home turned temple.

I just shake my head, maybe it is the long day, perhaps it is knowing during this I am not drawing a pay cheque, or is it what Susan and I left unspoken around the kitchen table this morning that I may enjoy wielding the power of the Pendragon. At this thought, Pen stirs a little in the inside pocket of my leather bomber jacket. Upside of my partner is that in settings like this, we share a connection along energetic lines in which I can tell if the being (non-human) is bull shitting me or being up front. When dealing with Zed that is always something to keep in mind.

“Zed neither one of us truly are friendly with one another. So, lets speed this up. What do you know about John?”

Zed’s hands vanish into the sleeves of the robe. In the day he would hide twin daggers, one strapped which he was good at using in self defense. Why am I letting the hairs on the back of my next bristle, would he try?

And the flash of steel in the prism colours dancing in the room in the daylight.

Pen leaps from my pocket before I can even react.

A shot of lightning from its tiny green mouth.

Right into Zed’s left red blood shot eye.

A yelp.

Daggers clatter to the ground and he grabs at the eye.

Pen is flapping in the air.

A kick.

I block.

A fist is the most useful tool in close combat.

Make it as hard as you can. Strike as hard as you can in 3 locations on a male attacker: Adam’s Apple, nose or groin.

While blocking, the kick led a left jab directly to his throat.

Zed crumples. Blood trickling from behind his fingers where Pen scored a hit.

Something tells me this was the message.

“Message received about John, Zed.” I look down as Pen lands on my shoulder. “Message received. Oh, and ignored.”

To be continued….