Posts Tagged ‘Speare’


It is a question that is 30 years in the making. Okay not really, but that was a great intro line not to have used it.

But it is 30 years since a type writer first typed out the words “The Adventures of Rick Saturn: The Bionic Knight.” and history was made in my fiction writing as a whole super hero universe was birthed that in junior high became known as the Tyverse (Raganverse following the Reagan era of politics just seemed to pretentious). It saw a plethora of heroes and villains created with literally tens of thousands of pages written over the past 30 years on pulp adventure yarns. Some greats like the Agency, Street Avenger, Johnny Power, Speedster and the Great Crime Fighters and some not so great like Rock Dude, Tigorr, and the Rubber Guy (hey not all can be winners).

Yet the first was a hodge podge origin creation, the story of a teenage orphan being raised by an elderly foster parent couple, the Harumphs. A blonde girlfriend, Susan Kobwash, with a nerdy best friend from a wealthy family, John MacCurtis. Yes, this was Rick Saturn, the dweeb, the bullied who one night while escaping tormentors would stumble into a dump, and have Gerklyn the wise (Merlin’s crazy cousin) bestow upon him a ring of power.

What can I say, it was the late 1980’s. I was a child of the 6 Million Dollar man made for t.v. movies; a passion for knights in shining armour and the Arthur/Robin Hood legends; loved Spider-Man (n0te the story of the group); and a time of cartoons of the Bionic Six and Visionaries. It all became boiler plate for a teenage hero who with the “magic mantra” of “Bionics On!” was replaced with the golden armoured knight hero of Calgary…the Bionic Knight. Added a few years later to some angst of his back story was that his family was actually organized crime, killed in a rival shoot out.

But I digress. This character’s sidekick was John MacCurtis, who too would get a magic gift and become PinBall, and eventually Bionic Archer. As well as other identities…but Rick Saturn would centre on the B.K. identity throughout his career. At times a teenager, who aged, in other moments the elder statesman role of the superhero set like one would read in the Justice Society comics. But always holding to a code of a simpler time. Do right, no killing, good always wins.

A light in the dark. As bionics lost favour, I would drop it, and Knight would become his code name, later it would evolve into PenDragon, and the idea of Gerklyn would recede, to Merlin being his patron as the lineage tying directly back more to the mystical side of Arthurian legend reincarnated would become stronger.Perhaps it was due to tracing matrilineal lines back to Uther that led to this clarity. Each year, regardless of other writing there would be a Saturn story produced.

Which is unique, because in the creative process it was MacCurtis I tended to resonate with more. The sidekick, probably as a younger brother. Even to a time when MacCurtis on the page would act as a Tulpa to journey through a spiritual labyrinth.

Yet here I am re-introducing the Bionic Knight to the reader. For you see, part of the journey as well, is to realize that even though the sidekick may assume the helm (think Wally West as the Flash, even Dick Grayson becoming Batman for a time). There is a point in our own journeys, when it is no longer the younger or the sidekick that our life role identifies with.

There comes a time, when where we are in playing mentor to others we realize, we are not Wally (West, Kid Flash, Flash III) or even Barry (Allan, Flash II) but have become in our own journey Jay (Garrick, Flash I) and perhaps are a sidestep away from being Max Mercury (a sage not affiliated with role).

So this year, 30 years on, I begin to plot a new adventure of an old friend. The hair a little thinner and grayer, with a wife not a girlfriend, a family, mourning the loss of a close friend as seen in the last Speare adventure…

So it is time not for a rebirth or reborn moment for a hero. But a grail quest moment.

Watch closely over the next little bit, for it may not be an old manual type writer pecking away at keys, it may be a netbook onto a blog.

But soon…

the question of Who is the Bionic Knight? will be answered, here…when…

The Quest of Rick Saturn: The Bionic Knight debuts.


Sax’s jaw couldn’t get any lower at the news. Speare was watching as Natan moved towards sweater vest for an embrace.

Natan held open his arms, and the small account man sunk into him.

“Yes Nate, we are one for ever and always.”

“Yet no more, I told you when I left the circles of home, that there was another.” Natan said. His voice a barely audible whisper beyond sweater vest.

The accountant pushes back.

His eyes have the funky greenish flame glow.

Speare contemplates the year that has been.

The global losses on the scholarly, intellectual, and entertainment world to many to remember in the blink of an eye moment like this…so many gone.  The memes on his Twitter and Facebook feed about protecting Betty White so 2016 doesn’t get her.

His personal losses of friends and family. The prophet John Constantine once said with magic comes pain. He just thought it was a throwaway line from a comic, how sadly wrong he was.

To the corporate pain in the city, despite the lived-in evil that needed to be dealt with John MacCurtis had bound so many together in the fight for good.

How at moments like this…

Speare knows what is to come.

There is a silent resignation.

Sweater looks at Sax, then at Natan. Speare is simply collateral damage in this day’s events.

“Then we all go home.”

Why Speare smirks and laughs as the flames erupt…

Because its 2016….

The End.


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.

 

Chapter One

Posted: November 4, 2016 by Ty in Spirituality
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The arrow had struck chest, yet it was not the chest it was aimed at. Speare had done something that if he had thought about it would have fallen under the realm impossible. That’s right, he had vaulted out of the booth almost snake like to tackle sweater down. The chest struck was literally a promotional treasure chest for some Sponge Bob Square Pants Happy Meal toys.

A quick glance up and the screech of truck tires. The shooter was making good an escape. Speare was on his feet and moving out of the restaurant. Not sure if this is something that would fall under the normal restaurant protocols of phoning the police. It was definitely a new one on Speare having a prospective client shot at by a bow and arrow.

By the time he got to the parking lot, the stereo typical fire engine red dually truck was already onto 32 ave NE and flying. Sirens stated that police had been called. It always amazed Speare how each first responder group had their own siren sound. Speare headed back into the restaurant to enjoy his free refill and see if Samuel had any answers as to who would send an assassin archer his way.

Unfortunately once inside, the refill on his McCafe was the easy part. Samuel was no where to be seen. During the futile chase to get a license number, the accountant like man had made his own escape. Speare takes out his flip phone and dials an all to familiar bookstore number.

“Hey Sax why is your hubby referring folks to me?”

Not a very helpful opening line, but it was strange that Natan would refer someone, and not give an inkling that danger could be afoot with the usual deductive fun and games. Speare sipped on his coffee as the constables came in. They looked at the arrow in the display, the shattered glass, and then a Constable Fox noted Speare sipping his coffee.

“Aw fuck me, how did I not know this crazy ass call would somehow involve you?” Fox said. He had been a constable in District five for many years, almost came across some days as a stodgy Irish cop out of Murdoch Mysteries with his world views. But Speare did like him. Speare flipped shut his phone to open up the conversation, Sax hadn’t had time to respond to Speare’s opening salvo anyways, his friend would understand.

“Here’s the quick 411 cause my cuppa is almost done. Bloke name Samuel, looked like an accountant, or that actor out of Little Shop of Horrors, Rick Moranis, had set up a meeting to discuss a case. Our meeting was interrupted by said arrow coming through the window. I went to chase the shooter.” Speare stated.

“And while you nicked out, so did the client.” Fox finished. “Did you at least get the license number?”

“No one ever gets the license number.” They said in unison, sadly this was a dance they had danced more often than either of them wanted to admit to.

Speare continued though, “Didn’t see the shooter, but a dually fire engine read truck bolted out of here heading towards Barlow or Deerfoot at the time after the arrow went through.”

Fox just nodded, scratched some more in his notebook. His partner was handing out statement papers, and checking patrons/staff ID’s. Speare took a paper and wrote out the simplistic tale again just as he had related it. One copy to the cop, another copy to him. He would add it to the collection, two more of these and Speare was certain he could redo the wall paper in his apartment.

The constables cleared the restaurant after recording contact information, and would await some crime scene guys to go over, but really they were not expecting to find much.

Speare headed towards the circle route bus stop that would take him down to the c-train, Sax’s shop was downtown and he needed to go speak with him in person. Maybe either Sax or Natan would have a way of connecting with this mysterious Samuel, or fleshing out a bit more about why someone was shooting arrows at him. Arrows, Speare never for a minute realized he would miss bullets.

 

Sax stared at his store phone. Something was terribly wrong with the referral Natan had made to Speare. Only reason Speare disconnected calls so quickly was either violence or police or both. Yet Sax also did not remember Natan stating he had referred any new people to Speare.

Sax clicks on the speed dial option for home (which is really an upstairs apartment owned with the bookstore). “Hey love, when you get this call back. Something hinky with Speare and some bloke named Samuel.”

The book store door chimes went. He was a smallish Rick Moranis looking man in a sweater vest and bow tie. If Sax was not certain he would swear this man was an accountant from musical theatre. “Hello and Welcome to sax and Such books. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

That’s when the man’s eyes went a brilliant emerald green as he looked right at Sax.

“Where is Natan? Where is my soulmate?”

 


Others have claimed their towns as a Hell mouth or the vortex of horrors, a weirdness magnet…those may be apropos for what existed in Calgary, but truly it was a nexus of weird. A confluence of energies coming together both mystical, extraterrestrial and what some may say is benign to create the epicentre of weird in Canada.

Speare knew this, and it was why he always had trepidation over new cases. They either could just be a very benign divorce or even the usual run of the mill Perry Masonesque murder case or it could literally be hell on wheels bat shit crazy “Conjuring” possession to a simple alien invasion. When it went sideways to the X-Files, it also became very hard to verify payments and without payments well, one became more of a pro-bono investigator which did not pay the bills.

It was these pro-bono style cases that could quickly resemble Episode 3 of the X-Files Season 10. You know the one, where a monster was bit by a man and became a man and lived the true horror of working minimum wage and desperately sought out any ways to become his happy go lucky monster self again.

Speare was hoping this would not be one of those types of cases as he waited in the bustling McDonald’s (best place for morning coffee, over Tim Horton’s, as they gave free refills and a great muffin/coffee deal). The cover of the daily newspaper showed Jason Kenney, a former MP who started seeking the third party leadership while still drawing a salary from his federal job. Speare may not be happy with some of the decisions the current NDP government of the province had been making, but he definitely hoped the PC’s had learned something in their banishment from dictator to third party status to not elect this guy.

The double double was warm, and the blue berry muffin was baked well. To top off the morning he had managed to avoid dealing with the stupidity of the touch screen order system and actually talk to a human being. Bonuses all around.  He scratched the whiskery beard he had been sporting since the last warped case as the client, a rather stereotypical looking accountant sat down across from him.

The small older man, with the bad comb over that barely covered the growing Picard scalp, actually straightened a navy blue bow tie that matched the suspenders showing underneath his cardigan. His moustache with the turned up ends looked like something from a turn of the 20th century barber shop quartet. There could almost be a passable twinkle in his green eyes.

“Mr. Speare?” He said.

“Simply Speare. How can I help you Mr.?”

The man had started to bead sweat profusely simply by sitting, as Spear finished his muffin and took another swig of coffee through the peaked plastic lid. It was time to let the silence do the heavy lifting so as not to guide the wood be client into making false statements, thus creating a false start for the sleuthing.

Bow tie takes another scan around the restaurant. Speare is sure if the cardigan was off, the white shirt underneath would be soaked with sweat around the arm pits. The sweater wore a sweater to cover up the act of sweating.

“Samuel, just Samuel. Look I heard about you.”

Speare chuckles. “Friend of a friend like the telephone game?”

Samuel shook his head. “Uhm, Natan, we are in the same book group. He said I should call you for help.” Natan, formerly crippled husband to Speare’s closest friend Sax. Formerly crippled, because during one of those pesky X-Files like cases he got a spontaneous healing that had reinvigorated the marriage to almost newlywed proportions.

“That is surprising.” Speare said.

“Surprising someone would recommend you?”

“No, Samuel, I am quite good, what surprises me is Natan has friends.” Lame joke, but the stress had to be broken if Samuel was ever going to open up and tell him why he was interrupting his morning coffee.

The accountant is now rubbing hands and looking more nervous, Speare mulled over changing contact messages to say that you had to reveal your referrer and bring them to the first meeting to make awkward situations like this not possible. Sometimes awkward was awkward and sometimes…

The arrow shattered the glass behind Speare’s booth striking chest….

Epilogue

Posted: October 8, 2016 by Ty in Speare 3: Thor v. Zeus
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The night had been crazy. Sax and Natan were back at the bookshop. Speare took the lead and the blame, which had brought him to this greasy spoon with a cup of black coffee that would eat a spoon never mind melt it or make it stand up, and a delicious piece of apple pie with a slice of cheese on top (because apple pie without the cheese, is like a kiss without the squeeze as he was told in childhood) and vanilla on the side.

Agent Louie Regis was a frazzled older Asian man, whose car tended to backfire upon driving, stopping, starting, or simply just because someone looked at it. The crumpled trench coat look reminded Speare of the Peter Falk’s Columbo, and created a hard time believing that this man spoke for a super-secret government agency.

But it was said agency that had spirited away the body of the mayor after the night from hell. Now Speare was mid-bite as Columbo 2.0 kept yabbering on about national security. City Hall had already news conferences the death, letting the city know the original election cycle would hold and the Deputy Mayor would step in interim, this was done as a cost saving measure but also to honour the life of service of John MacCurtis. Funeral would be held in 3 days.

“I should arrest you Speare.”

“That’s nice Agent, but I can assume from the lack of Miranda and cuffs that is not how this is going down?” Speare stated.

Regis finished his cup of coffee, tossed some crumpled bills down to cover the cost, rose, looked at Speare. “We are watching you.” Turned to leave, turned back slowly, “thank you.”

Speare finished his pie and watched the agent depart in his car.

Stepping out into the sunlight, Speare stood quietly in the parking lot as he adjusted his toque, and zipped up his coat snug. Winter was here, there had barely been a summer, and now fall had given way to winter without much fanfare.

An echoey voice came from behind. “Mr. Speare, thank you for finally bringing peace to my friend.”

“No problem B.K.”

A blast of warmth around him as the Bionic Knight took flight.

Speare slowly walked across the parking lot to the bus stop. “Case closed, I fuckin’ hate supernatural sci-fi shit.” He mumbles under his breath.

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.

 


Movies like Star Trek First Contact romanticized first contact with alien species as the ushering age of a golden age for humanity out of the dregs of war. Some Ancient Alien theories show this throughout history as well as laid out through archaeology and religious thought.  Some just benign indifference or is it more like H.G. Wells in War of the Worlds? Stephen Hawking one of, if not the, smartest man in the world has cautioned that alien life attempting to contact Earth may not be benign or ushering in a humanistic golden age.

That is what Speare is discovering lately, the intersecting of alien life and the body politic, the rips in the atmosphere and the weird sky effects causing evolutionary leaps for humanity and creating the persons known as Supras. The way the Canadian government used a super-secret agency and two specific aliens who may or may not be immortal, and each of them who had been visiting the world throughout millennia each took a lead—one of “Prophets” that became known as media darlings, The Great Crime Fighters. The other, a covert black ops team, known as Martyrs.

In their final stand the entity that had possessed the mentor was finally exorcise and believed destroyed.

Then a mysterious woman turned up dead.

The journey revealed that even though the exorcism broke the one known as Natan, the entity had survived and now was back making the Martyrs literally their name sakes. Reesa, Daemon, and Malcolm. Now they were truly gone.

Yet there was a nagging question about the murder that started it all, and that is why Speare was standing in the urbanized garden in a shopping mall. It had been closed for a time as someone had started a grow op in it. Yet here he was, as a bookseller had contacted the other immortal alien to speak with him, for Sax had to care for his lover and spouse, Natan who was formerly in a wheel chair with oxygen, but now stood in a black linen suit that caused his faded red skin to glow almost crimson as they waited for the other.

The saffron robes were a give-away.  The one who had formally been known as Zeus, during his time in Canada and being a super hero, had adopted the name Zed, he was simply known as a mystic-Tibetan Buddhist Monk.

And this is what Speare struck upon. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Greek?”

“Seriously, you have google in this era, and literally have every ancient work at your fingertips and you glanced over the whole golden shower I once was?”

“Point taken. So why?”

“A monk. It was time to take my holistic self seriously, and to learn what it truly meant to be human I felt it was necessary to enter into the life of a refugee driven from home by an oppressive regime.”

Speare nodded. “Any advice on taking out Thor?”

Zed smiled, he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Sadly he has always been a competitor. When he took over John MacCurtis it was because something had snapped, and the dark place this once great warrior had gone through.” There was a visible shudder by Zed. “I was overjoyed when the Martyrs disbanded, and Natan,” he nods to the red man, “had reported Thor’s destruction, the locking of the bunker. Even with the price paid, it was a good day for universal relations.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.” Sax said. It looked to Speare as he was scratching his palm, he had never noted his friend looking this uncomfortable. “But what do we do to shut Thor down for good?”

“Is he back in MacCurtis?”

And that was the golden question to be answered.

Natan smirks as he looks at Zed. “This all started when we believed Reesa was murdered, but what if Reesa was Slick, and Slick was—“

“Thor?”