Posts Tagged ‘Webcomic’


Lightspeed (Photo credit: i be GINZ)

I push the throttle to full and plunge through the void as existence blazes past me as no more than a perpetual glowing wall.

I have no idea how much of a lead I have on them, I’m mostly running on hope that I have any legitimate gain at all. The more I think about it, the more I get the sickly paranoid feeling that they’ve already caught-up, and if I went back to the cargo hold, I’d see them slithering through the shadows.

I don’t even know for certain where I’m going, and moving at these speeds without a destination isn’t normally considered safe—the navigation computer has been blaring its warning alarms at me since I entered into the jump.

I need time to think—I need to find somewhere to stop and hide, and come up with a plan. But nowhere is safe—not even for a minute’s rest.

I swear I can feel their miasmic breath across the back of my neck. I look despite sense, and see nothing but the empty cabin and my own reflection across the panels—staring back at me—mocking me with my repeating questions of fight-or-flight.

They killed her—she’s dead—and all I can do is run for my own life—running into oblivion fueled with cowardice.

I look down at the navigation, and see the Return Home on its menu—it would take me headlong back to them. Chances of getting out alive pretty much don’t exist, but I could sure as hell make them feel my pain.

I hit the return, and the warning alarm finally calms. I flip open the red panel, smash the glass below, and flip the switches that begin the count-down.

I sit back in my chair, and wait.

Samurai Duel

Samurai Duel (Photo credit: warpafx)

I unsheathed my sword with a fluid movement and presented its sheen as a warning towards my opponent, “Come for me!”

With my taunt fueling him, he shot from his spot, and I charged from mine. Our blades struck and found flesh, drawing lines of blood.

I fingered at the wound that stretched up my right bicep, and he, wondering if I just removed his appendix for him.

“Draw!” We heard in slurred voice from the side-line, our only available witness to the duel.

“Draw?” my challenger questioned, “Well, what the hell are we supposed to do with that? Who hit who first, you drunk old fool?”

The witness narrowed his eyes at the assigned label, “I told you, boy, it was a draw. You both drew your bloods at the exact same time. Now if ya want, you can both hack at each other all night, but I imagine we’ll all be sober before that gets us anywhere and completely forget what the point was.”

My opponent threw his arms out and looked more defeated by the witness than me, “Well… what…” He looked at me with increasing exasperation, “What the hell are we doing, then? Are we gonna go again, or what?”

I just looked at him, and with barely a thought, I drew my dagger, and draped the blade across my opposite bicep, creating a sting of red.

“There,” I said sheathing my blades, “My blood is drawn, now let us go back in and drink before the feeling sets in.”

My opponent stared, stunned and at a continued loss, “But… you insulted… my wife, wasn’t it? That can’t go… you-know-what, screw it…” He finally said and sheathed his blade while walking back towards the pub, “You’re buying the rounds—I did win after all…”

The Gunslinger

The Gunslinger (Photo credit: The mofoJT)

So, ‘Natural Selection’ is done, and all that remains of it is the past posts that you can read and re-read ‘til your foot gets stuck from kicking yourself in the ass for not pushing for me to continue the project. But don’t fear, as a bonus for you, I shall provide you here with the DVD Extras. These are bits that I wrote in ‘Elimination’ that ended up getting changed for one reason or another, some of the bits got recycled, in what you got, while the rest was simply left in the scrap file (I’m sure I had to of mentioned this before, and if I haven’t, I am now: never delete large amounts of writing no matter how bad you think it is, always put it in a scrap file. There will always be bits in it that you’ll find useful that you would have lost otherwise—plus, it gives you something to put on your website to appeal to the fans—I’m going to have those some day)

This is the original version of how it started just after Bahb hit the button. I tried writing Father with a cliché Southern-draw, so trying to figure out his dialog was always interesting, making this speech fun to write, but in the end, it was just too much “blah, blah, blah” with nothing happening and was killing the pace. So, I pushed back the zombies (the fight with them was going to start in this story, but then decided it was more dramatic to end it with them coming), I put Bahb’s guards back because I couldn’t figure out any way to get him a weapon that wouldn’t just leave him hiding behind the aliens for most of the story (even though most of his efforts of fighting were useless, I needed to keep the concept of him not backing down—since that’s the direction that kept getting chosen, so I wanted to keep that reflected as such):

What is that—Oh-dear-god—“

There was a slight pause, and a popping sound that came from the other PA speakers, and Fathers voice came over all of them at once, “Attention, my children, this is your father. It would seem that Hell has opened its floodgates and we are in the direct path of its fury. You are the greatest of a whole new species of mankind—now is the time that you must prove yourselves! Now is the time you must fight for the survival of this species! Defend our children, defend our families—“

A load groaning sound came across the speakers, followed by the sounds of multiple gunshots, and them the speakers suddenly cut out.

The room was flooded with a red strobe and a blaring alarm, and the capsules containing Soo and the other alien began to drain of their fluid.

They’re waking up now…” the unknown voice announced in Bahb’s mind.

The glass chambers started rising up in sync and the two grotesque creatures slumped over and dropped to the flood with a wet slosh, and with tentacles splayed about randomly. They lay limp and seemly lifeless in pools of excess liquid. Just as Bahb began to work up the courage to try to check them for signs of life, the being he knew as Soo began to move a tentacle, and then another, and then started to push herself upright. Shortly after, the other began to do the same.

Bahb went over to Soo and crouched to her level, “Are you ok?”

Soo looked at Bahb with a slit eye at the end of a long stalk, and directed the other towards her companion. Bahb looked between them, and notice they had their stares locked on each other.

“Am I missin’ something?” Bahb asked.

They’re talking… I can hear them…” The voice stated, “Would you like to hear them too?

“That would be—“ A piercing pain shot through Bahb’s mind, with him clasping his head with his arms, barely managing to stay on his feet. He suddenly heard the sound of thousands of voices, frantic and screaming. Slowly the voices began to calm, and filter down to fewer and fewer, until Bahb heard a conversation between only two.

…they tried to hide him from us… the experiment is ordered to be brought to an end… all results so far must be cleansed…


We are to retrieve the evidence of their violation… otherwise, everything must be subjected to elimination…

And so it must be… no one can escape the Selection!

“What the hell is the damned ‘Selection’?” Bahb blurted out, “Everybody that has anything to do with this damn crazy cult keeps going on about ‘there’s no escaping the Selection’ or some crap—what the hell—“

A sudden sound like a surprised gasp sounded through Bahb’s mind from the two creatures. The one that was Soo suddenly began to melt into an abstract of itself, a multi-colored blob, phasing into a shade of skin, and sprouting arms and legs, and becoming the woman that Bahb had come to recognize as Soo—also naked again.

Soo examined Bahb with her infinitely dark eyes, “Bahb, were you able to hear us just now?”

“Um… yes…” Bahb answered with uncertainty.

With Bahb’s single word, he was alerted to the metallic sound of an unsheathing blade behind him. He turned and saw a man with long black hair, darkly tanned skinned, and narrowed black eyes, standing with his right armed formed into a long blade directed at Bahb’s temple.

Bahb narrowed his eyes to match that of the alien, “Is there a problem?”

Who is this? He is not one of them…” Bahb heard in his mind.

He was useful in getting in here… he may continue to be…” Soo’s mind responded, and then out loud to Bahb, “Bahb, how were you capable of hearing us communicating before?”

“Present tense—I still can,” Bahb responded, “And I really don’t know the how of it. There’s another voice that I’ve been hearing since I got here, aside from Scarlet’s and yers. I assumed it was me losing my mind, but then the crazy started becoming a bit more functional that is probably normal for crazy.”

The other entity I detected earlier,” Soo announced in her mind.

Is it the evidence?” The other asked.

“If you and yer naked friend here are just gonna stand here mind zapping each other, I’m gonna go back to finding Scarlet now,” Bahb interjected.

Bahb walked to the doorway leading to the outer lab, while grabbing a couple of lab coats and tossing them in the direction of the aliens, “If you don’t mind, you two are make it feel drafty in here.”

Bahb went to the main door. He glanced out the window noticing that his two guards seemed to no longer be anywhere in sight, “They must have been pulled away by whatever that commotion over the PA was…

“Commotion?” Soo asked walking up behind him.

“Damn’it, is that thing still on—am I gonna be permanently incapable of a private thought?” Bahb said and continue, “When Father was speaking earlier, something was responded to with gunfire.”

Kyriakos’Dionysodoros’Eli’Mongkut’Jorje,” Soo’s mind blurted out.

Gesundheit…” Bahb responded, “Ok, that joke is weirder when it’s in my head. You mean that Jorje guy from the cemetery? What about ‘im?”

“Jorje guy?” The other alien responded out loud for the first time.

“They should have been here at least a month ago…” Soo said, “The hibernation must have weakened the signal… I am not sure what they were doing between time… no matter, the elimination has begun, and we must complete the mission now…”

Soo’s counter part crossed his bladed limb through the door and it fell to fragments before him.

“Not to sound like I’m criticizing the quality of yer handy work, there, but it was actually locked from the inside—where we presently are,” Bahb pointed out, “You happen to have a name?”

“Irfan’Ramachandra’Arjuna’Tafadzwa’Gaun” The alien responded while walking over the destroyed door and into the corridor.

“Ok…. Gaun… what’s the plan? If you two are gonna start escaping, that’s fine, but I still gotta find Scarlet before I go anywhere—with or without the either of you,” Bahb paused, “But, I’m not gonna lie, I’d rather have at least one of you incase I come up against another Evo along the way.”

“I believe the ‘Evos’ will be indisposed,” Soo responded, “However, I will accompany you, while… Gaun… continues our mission.”

Why are—“ Gaun started in his mind.

Silence! Follow my command!” Soo responded with Gaun simply giving a subservient nod and began making his way down the corridor at an unreal pace.

And this is the alternate final fight between Bahb and Soo. Originally, Bahb actually got Father’s pistol-cannon, because I just completely loved the idea behind that gun, but after re-reading what I wrote, I declared that the fact that I just juiced Bahb up like a Super-Evo wasn’t really being sold the way it needed to be. So, I took away the gun, pointed out the healing, the reflexes, the strength, and just hand-to-hand stuff:

Bahb gripped the pistol-cannon and became one with it, turning on his heels; he aimed at the charging Soo, and fired an explosion of thunder, sending its giant bolt through her chest, and being followed by another being sent through her right shoulder, completely removing her bladed limb. He then went to his feet and moving toward her, fired again, and again.

When he reached her, and stood over her switching body, it was phased between her human and original state in a fit of chaotic confusion. Bahb crouched down, and threw his fist through the grotesque thing that was Soo’s face until he felt soil behind it.

Part 1:

Selective Breeding


Bundled (Photo credit: Bart Heird)

Father was awoken by a screeching scream, “Violation!” No other words, but a sensation of searing in the back of his mind, like a blazing path leading from him to the cause of the disruption.

He sat-up in his bed with the burning in his mind, while still dazed between wake and dream. The sensation bared the essence of his daughter, Kk’rin, and something else… something—“Oh, god, Kk’rin… what have you done now?”

He threw back the bed sheets, and walked quickly to the intercom, commanding that a carriage and retrieval party be assembled. Then he opened his wardrobe and began readying himself as best he could.

— — —

Kk’vin’s sister’s screams could be heard almost a full mile before the carriage carrying her even reached the compound’s gate.

“You can’t do this! You can’t keep me here!”

Kk’vin stood above the wall watching as it approached, and gave a slight wave to the men below to open the gate and allow the wagon through.

“Father, are you listening? I’ll get out at the first chance I get, you can’t keep me here!”

Kk’vin just shook his head as he listened to her pleas with even more energy than last time they brought her back. If it was anyone else, Father would have simply used his gaze and kept her from even opening her mouth, but with her, he just let her go as if punishing himself for some personal sin.

Kk’vin began climbing down the wall as the gate closed. He walked passed the farming zone where a group of children laughed as they played a game chasing each other through the corn field. He took in the sights of his family in the Church of the Evolution hard at work, allowing the compound to flow seamlessly. Father was only gone a short while retrieving Kk’rin, but Kk’vin hoped that the time of him being in charge would make his Father proud.

Kk’rin’s screams died out as a couple of his brethren carried her into the medical complex. Father wasn’t very clear about the conditions that spurred the urgency to retrieve her this time, so he had at least hoped that the stop at the complex was just an overly precautious Father giving his daughter a routine check-up.

Kk’vin approached the wagon and Father just now began to get out. The look on his face was filled with concern, and regret.

“You didn’t allow her words to get to you, did you, Father?” Kk’vin asked.

Father looked up at him with eyes that looked ancient and tired, “No, my son. Your sister has a right powerful set of lungs in her, and a tongue sharp enough to stab straight through her Father’s tender heart with precision, however…” he paused in a pained search for words, “I fear that she may have done something I simply do not know how to fix.”

— — —

Father left his son by the wagon to finish whatever chores he had left, and walked towards the sterilized room where his daughter was being prepared for her induction. The message glowing in his mind had shifted, “Elimination!” with the blazing path glowing like a sun.

What am I supposed to do now? He asked himself as he stared through the observation window at his struggling daughter.

He opened the door to the sterile smell and Kk’rin’s screams that were silenced as he forced his power upon her, an act he always regretted doing to any of his children.

Men in pure white that almost blended with the walls came in, and he nodded to them to begin. They went straight to work as Kk’rin groaned incoherently.

“You can’t… you can’t do this…” she managed to get out as the building pain in her gave her surges passed his hold over her.

My child, he thought as he looked away from the source of his own pain, I wish there was another choice.

“Please!” her scream echoed in his mind.

— — —

Kk’vin sat outside, anxiously waiting for any news of his sister as the door to the sterilized room finally opened up. One of his brethren came out dressed in pure white, randomly blotched with red, carrying what looked like a bundle of blankets. Kk’vin would have concluded that he was simply disposing of a pile of soiled linen, if the bundle didn’t suddenly begin to scream with a screeching wail.

As he started to creep a peek into the bundle, Father came out of the room.

“Kk’vin,” he said with such a commanding tone, that Kk’vin couldn’t help but bring himself to attention, “I need you to find this man, and cleanse him of his sins against the Church of the Evolution,” as Father spoke, his mind projected an image into Kk’vin’s head—A gunslinger, by the name of Bahb.

“Yes, Father”

— — —

Kk’rin lay on a cot attached to the wall of a cell she had been in many times before as her version of a “time-out.” They were still examining, poking, and prodding and every other kind of test they could think of, on her neonate son in a complex just a building over. She could feel every sensation running through the child’s mild in wonder of all the new sights so clearly, they almost felt like her own. It was an odd feeling of displacement—a growing consciousness for nine months inside of you, blind to anything beyond you, but now a building over and seeing everything.

She forced her mind away from her child for the moment, and focused on the mind of Father, “Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do to keep me this time?”

She found him in the lab with the creature. He watched as the tentacled thing hibernated in its tube. She could hear single words being transmitted, “Violation,” “Elimination,” and “Retrieval!”

Her mind was suddenly struck with the destruction of her son’s screaming, and then images started flashing. The images made little sense, but the last image she saw was that of Bahb dieing, and a black haired woman she never saw before.

She quickly sought out the mind of Bahb, and, though it was much further away, she was able to find it almost instantly, as it was a mind she looked for many times before and knew it well. So far, he was alive and well, riding into a town towards a saloon—but the sensation of another well known mind wasn’t far behind him—Kk’vin. His purpose wasn’t difficult to determine, as his mind was flooded with determination to find his target and make his Father proud.

She immediately got to her feet and examined the cell. She escaped many times before, but it only gave Father more things to redesign after and make more complicated for her.

“Complicated… but never impossible.”

Part 2:

Process of Elimination

The Walking Dead

The Walking Dead (Photo credit: andres musta)

Kk’vin watched as the tube filled and the odd liquid surrounded the other creature. Father looked over at Kk’vin and he awaited his disappointment. He failed his mission to dispose of Bahb as he was told, and lead him to their home.

“Something is not quite right…”

“Yes, I know Father,” Kk’vin began to plead, “I’m sorry, I’ve failed you—“

“Failed me?” Father interrupted, “You mean the Bahb fella not being dead? Don’t you worry yourself about that, my boy, you went up against the scorn of your sister to get to him, and you would have definitely been a much better man than I if you had succeeded through that. Besides, after examining the child, I have some interesting ideas that could make Bahb worth having around.”

“What do you mean, Father?”

“It’s gonna take me a bit of preparation to work out the kinks, but based on what happened with his and Kk’rin’s child, injecting Bahb with a pure form of our enhanced blood may make him quite powerful.

Kk’vin looked at him Father and wondered if his scientific curiosity was getting the better of his sanity, “Father—as interesting as that would be—why would we want to do that? Wouldn’t that just make him a threat to us?”

“My boy, I believe that is a risk we would have to take, for I have a feeling that this one,” Father gestured towards the newly hibernating creature, “may have set a trap for of that something completely insane may be the only option left.

“I need you to go out with your best men, and back track their path here. I need to know exactly what’s coming for us.”

“Yes, Father” Kk’vin acknowledged and began making his way outside the complex.

He gathered five of his brethren, and they prepped and mounted their horses. They directed towards the gate, and started heading towards the west where the Church of the Evolution’s attackers came from. It wasn’t too difficult for Kk’vin to pickup on their trail, with the burning of psychic energy from both of them there was the think odor of a thunderstorm deep in his own mind.

They followed the trail for almost a full day before Kk’vin’s horse suddenly reared up without warning and tossed him to the ground hard, slamming him to his back with a thud that made him gasps for breath. He stood with a fist angrily directed for the horse, “What in the hell is yer problem, ya damn beast—“

He stopped himself short, as he saw, all around him and his companions, thousands, upon thousands of bodies. Some were rather fresh, while others were at many different stages of decay to the point of barely holding together.

They seemed to go back further than his keen eyes could see. Some just lay in the open trails, while some were propped up by rocks and vegetation as if they were puppets that just dropped from having their strings cut.

Leaving their horses, they continued to follow the path of corpses to trace where they came from, and the bodies simply continued seemly forever.

Eventually they came to an area surround with an iron fence, with only the destroyed headstones scattered about to inform them that it was a cemetery—at least, it was prior to its residence vacating their resting places.

“Setup camp,” He commanded to one of his men, “I want to know what the intention was here before we go on.”

Almost a month passed of Kk’vin sending reports back from the Death Camp to Father back at the compound, which mostly informed him that an ocean of dead bodies isn’t as excite as one might initially think.

Kk’vin had just finished writing yet another uneventful report and was about to send a rider with it, when a sudden surge of an unfamiliar sensation struck his mind. He braced his head in his hands as if to hold his skull together, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement—movement that he knew should not have existed.

The bodies that surround him, that have surround him for weeks that he grew accustomed to as piles of rocks, and just as mobile, suddenly started rising. First, it was slow and sluggish, like a man getting out of bed after a long sleep, but they slowly increased from staggering shambles, to a pace of determined destination.

“Stop them!” Kk’vin ordered to his men who already had pistol-blades drawn only in wait for the order.

Heated bolts flew through heads, and blades slashed through limbs and necks. Their efforts brought every target made to an end, but there were more targets than bolts between any of them.

As Kk’vin had one by the neck and stabbing his blade though its skulls with a squeeze of his trigger for good measure, he heard the screams of one of his men as one of the corpse had lunged on top of him and began to devour his face until it looked like bloodied hamburger. Kk’vin directed his weapon and blasted the abomination until it stopped moving.

“We need to get back to the compound! We need to warn them!” Kk’vin yelled at anyone still living and capable of following his orders.

He began a sprint eastward, slashing and firing continuously at targets as he went.

Blazing a trail of re-dead bodies through a field of still determined bodies, with the rest of his party lost to join the piles, Kk’vin was able to reach the compound gate. Sounds of battle came from the other side, and he had feared that he was some how too late. He grabbed his pistol-blade by the hilts and stabbed them into the wall, using them to pull his way upward. As he reached the top, he saw the entire Church in the thralls of battle against one of the creatures, and mostly losing.

Passed the mass of battle, Kk’vin saw a form dressed in his usual black splayed out in the middle of the compound—Father… no.

His need to grieve for his Father was immediately interrupted by the sound of screeching, like a thousand newborns scream at once in his mind. He looked towards Kk’rin’s dorm where her and her child were being kept, and the other alien stood in the doorway, holding the familiar bundle.

Kk’vin launched himself from the gate, and charged towards the creature, “Stop!” He shot a bolt through her shoulder hoping it’d be enough to lose her grip, “You can’t take him from us!”

The creature simply gave an arrogant smile and leapt passed him and the blazing battle.

Kk’vin reached the doorway, Bahb lay writhing in pain from the screams he didn’t know how to control, and Kk’rin lay with her limb and skull sliced in half in perfect section, “Kk’rin! No!”

Part 3:

Selective Memory

The Gunslinger

The Gunslinger (Photo credit: Drewdlecam)

Silhouetted all around Gaun coming towards the compound seemed to be thousands of staggering corpses. Bahb’s eyes grew, as he remembered the odd moment with Soo in the cemetery.

They came at the gate in a full charge, with Bahb having no idea what else to do; he jumped back down and took position to prepare for the oncoming battle.

What am I supposed to do now? Father’s pistol-cannon is still over there—should I get that? What about the blood, I don’t have Kk’vin’s anymore, but what if I used Scarlet’s, or any of these other dead Evos? Why do I have this odd sensation that I should be steampunk? What am I supposed to do?

This question simply continued to echo in Bahb’s mind as the gate creaked and cracked, and eventually collapsed beneath the horde of the dead. The remaining living Evos screamed, and fought, as Bahb saw a dead claw come across his face.

— — —

I awoke in my bed in a cold sweat. I got up from my bed and walked out to the living area. Uncle Gaun was there plucking at a data pad.

Uncle Gaun looked up at me, “You had that dream again?”

I nodded, “Same one mostly, I see through my father’s mind, but he keeps making these weird choices, and eventually, he just can’t make a choice at all anymore, and it kills him.”

“Interesting,” is all my Uncle said, which is as much elaboration as I normally got from him, “Your training is in about 30 minutes, you should prepare.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

I went out the front door and took in the view of the clear golden sky, over the valley of red desert, and made my way to the training facility to train for leadership of the invasion force.


Voting (Photo credit: League of Women Voters of California)

You may notice that I’m almost a full week behind on my weekly posts. Part of this was being busy with a lot of things; the other part was that I was trying to decide what I want to do with the continuation of ‘Natural Selection.’ As it is, I have 2 votes (I’m not counting the one person who voted for ‘other’ on title with no suggestion, or giving a vote on the theme—that in itself irritated me enough to lead to my present state of thinking on this whole thing). This project is intended to be fun for both my blog readers, and myself. If I’m not getting any votes from those reading, then I’m only to assume this indicates that you are not interested, and therefore, no fun from you is being had. And, in turn, this means I am also not having as much fun, especially if I start to feel like I’m practically begging and spamming for votes—that part is in no way fun for me.

So, I am declaring some rules for ‘Natural Selection’:

  • There will be a minimum of 5 votes on all polls given at the end of a section. Any fewer than 5 votes and the story will not move forward.
  • A poll will run for no longer than 4 weeks, if the goal of 5 votes has not been met, the project will be over (I’m not going to keep rechecking the poll months+ after).

These rules apply immediately—meaning, the poll has now been running since June 11, 2013… today’s June 22, it’s now 11 days old; there are only 17 days left before I declare this project dead (that’s July 9). If the readers that really want to see what happens next want this project to continue, then you may want to get to work on getting some votes in. I promote most of my posts on my FB, Twitter, etc at least once after posting, but for the polls, I have been pushing a bit more to try to get votes—I will no longer be doing that; they will now be given the same one time promo as everything else—the rest is up to you.

If it happens that this project is killed off, then that is simply the way it must be. I will be disappointed, but I have plenty of other things that I have to do to take up my time, so it will be a minor loss.

I will still put out the alternative POV story for the anniversary no matter how this turns out.

I’m going to start you off with two of some of the oldest stories of mine I could find (not the oldest I have, the older ones are just in hard-copy and packed away, and I don’t feel like looking for them right now—maybe later). The first was a character test-run (I mentioned I do short-stories for characters, to help me figure the character out, and to see if I can make any use of them—this is one of the first in that exercise). The Raven… I first invented this character a long while ago (I honestly can’t say how long ‘cause he’s been around for a bit). I first drew him with a costume that was a bit like the Batman Beyond consume, but more bird like (but mine came first, they stole it), after that, I tried upgrading his costume a bit so he would look less like Batman, it was basically the same design, but more armor looking… and then ‘Knight Quest’ started and this was when I started to get my first dose of believing I was being watched.

I have notebooks upon notebooks filled with comics drawn with this character and others (don’t ask where any of them are, I can’t find them, and it actually is bugging me). So, time moved on, and after the Raven had been in hibernation, I came across Flash 4 (when Flash was still fresh and new and very few even knew what it was yet, but it was cool), and after seeing Stan Lee and, etc use it to make little web-comic cartoons, I thought I would try my own hand at it. So, I re-invented the Raven one last time. This time, he kinda had a bit of the Crow to him (though I kept re-drawing him to fix that, it just kept happening anyway). In the end, I found out that drawing pictures over and over with stories was harder than they made it look, so I decided to just stick with the stories ‘cause I’m better at those anyway—and I scrapped this character all together after a computer crash happened and caused me to lose his entire Genesis story (it pissed me off).

This story doesn’t really get much into a back-story beyond vague hinting, but in general, if you’ve ever seen the new version of ‘the Beauty & the Beast’ on CW, they stole the Raven’s back-story and gave it to the Beast… because they’re watching me.

The Raven:


[working title]

215804_1025101264962_8312_nRunning, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with a gliding finesse. His eyes burning red, hunting for the source of a woman’s screams.

The wind rushes his nose as he moves. The strong smell of exhaust from hundreds of badly neglected cars and trucks, and decomposing garbage haunts the night air. Filtering his senses, he can smell the vague sent of a cheap perfume. He can hear the sound of a couple of men shouting and struggling screams of a woman.

“Ple-s-! Som—dy h—p m—!”

“Wi’ ya’ shu’ dat bitch up!”

“Come’on whore, ya’ know ya’ wan’ it, now jus’ qui’ playin’ har’ta ge’ an’ give I’ up ta’ da’dy!”

The voices are coming from the next alley. He flies across with one last leap. He stands at the roof top of an old five story apartment building that’s in such bad condition that anyone that didn’t live there wouldn’t know if it was abandoned or not. He gazes down into the dark alley below. His eyes adjust almost instantly. His mind analyses the situation in a matter a milliseconds:

Two men. One Woman.

The woman is in about her late teens to early 20’s. Dark brown hair, medium skin tone. She’s wearing a cherry-red dress that appears to have been violently scuffed and torn by the two men.

One man is leaning his weight into the woman trying to restrain her. He appears to be in his early 20’s. He is trying to use his hands to hold the woman’s mouth closed. His hair is dark and greasy. He’s wearing a worn-down, plaid hunting jacket. Judging from his skin tone, his arms probably have more holes than a pin-cuisine from shooting either heroine or at least a close relative. With an intoxicated coordination, the man is trying to pry the woman’s legs apart and pull down his own pants while still holding the woman down at the same time.

The second man is holding a six-inch jackknife switchblade to the woman’s throat, yelling slurred profanities. He looks to be around the same age as his friend, his complexion not nearly as drugged. He’s wearing a black, torn-sleeved tank-top. He has long hair to about the middle of his neck, poorly tied back into a pony tail, with the sides roughly shaved.

207545_1025101184960_7748_nThe Raven steps forward leaving only the back half of the heel of his boots to balance him on the edge of the building. He leaps down, spreading out his arms like they were wings. His long trench-coat catches the wind as he descends into the alley acting almost like a parachute. He lands crouched in between a dim light and a dark shadow, his coat almost covering him completely.217672_1025101224961_8029_n

The two men look over with a stunned expression, not sure what to make of what they’re seeing. The Raven slowly rises with a sinister motion that sends a slight chill through the air. The man with the knife quickly grabs the girl away from his shocked friend and pulls her in front of himself holding the knife as firmly to her throat as his shaking hand can, peeking out from behind her.

“I don’ know who da’ fuck you are or wher’ da’ fuck you came from, bu’ you bes’ start movin’ along before thi’ bitch’s life becomes suddenly shortened… an’ we know you don’ wan’ tha’ on yo’ conscience, now do ya…”

The Raven glares at the man with his eyes of burning blood.

“Hol-ly’shi’! Wha’da’ fuck are you!?”

The Raven’s arm quickly extends slightly towards the man, in the same instant, the gleam of a small throwing-star flies from his hand. The star sticks into the back of the man’s hand causing him to suddenly jump in pain dropping the knife. The girl stumbles and trips into a pile of trash on the side of the alley wall as the man throws her down.

The other man takes out a small .38mm revolver that was stashed in his pants and gets a shot off. The Raven quickly moves his left shoulder slightly back, and the bullet just barely grazes the arm of his coat.

The man fires frantically. The Raven jumps into a forward flip in the air. Right after the man fires in vain his sixth and last shot, the Raven lands directly in front of the man. The man steps back in surprise while in the same motion the Raven smashes his rock solid fist into the man’s face, knocking him back a couple of feet, and landing him unconscious with a broken, bleeding nose.

207557_1025101624971_888_nThe man with the tank-top finally managed to painfully pry the razor star from his hand. He quickly picks up his knife from the alley ground and charges at the Raven ready try stabbing him in the kidney or the around the ribs. the Raven quickly turns, blocking and grabbing the man’s arm, and using the man’s motion to redirect the knife into the man’s solar-plexus. The man gives out a short gasp with a look up disbelief of what had just happened. The Raven throws the man down as he dies.

206661_1025101104958_7200_nThe Raven walks over to the woman still lying in the alley waste shocked and frightened. The Raven looks at her face. She reminds him so much of Amber. He bends down to her offering his hand. The girl jumps back slipping and tumbling through papers, boxes and broken bottles as she tries to get away.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. Are you OK…?” The Raven’s eyes readjust, slowly fading back to their natural color of sky-blue.

The woman calms down a little, and nods.

The sound of approaching police sirens begin flood the air. Someone must have reported the gunfire, not because they were afraid something was wrong, but most likely because it was keeping them awake.

The woman looks down the alley as one of the police units pull up. She looks back to see old newspapers blow by, and empty air.

— — —

215292_1025101704973_1479_nFrom the roof above the alley, the Raven perches. Hidden in the shadows looking down, and watching as more police arrive and begin to investigate the area. He watches the girl as she gets interrogated and escorted to the back of an ambulance.

“Do you feel better now, yushi…?” a voice from behind him says.

The Raven glares from the corner of his eye at Kuro’Tori, “I’ve told you to stop calling me that…”

“You are avoiding the question. Did saving that girl from torture make you feel like you were saving your Amber Hane…? Did killing those toxic infestations passing themselves off as human beings make you feel like you were battling the H.A.W.K.  soldiers…? Did it make you feel better…?”

“Fuck you, Freud—I saved the girl’s life because she was in trouble and I was able to do something about it… Why can’t you just leave it at that…”

“Because you know that you cannot…”

Without looking the Raven knows that Kuro’Tori had left. He thinks to himself, “God, I hate that guy…” He stares down to the alley, “…why does he always have to be right…”

(to be continued… )

No… it will never be continued. But don’t worry, I scrapped and recycled his character and inserted him largely into other characters you’ll be seeing later.

Next is a character that I created and wrote a story for entirely as a joke—the Ice-cream Man. He was a villain, basically the story of his creation is: I was working on building the webpage for my webcomic for a good portion of the day, then I noticed my girl-friend at the time sign on, so I decided to take a break and IM with her a bit (AOL used to be cool once too). While we were BSing about whatever and I was telling about what I was doing, the ice-cream truck started going down her street, and she typed at me, “The Ice-cream Man!” This merged with my already comic-book drowned mind and the Ice-cream Man was born. I used to have a bitmap drawing of him that I did on MS-Paint, but I’ve somehow lost track of it (it’s unfortunately, it was pretty cool—bloody ice-cream scoopers and cones—I liked that guy). I was going to let him be one of the Raven’s villains at some point, even had the first few frames for his flash-comic done for him (nope, don’t have it anymore), but he died with the Raven, and no part of him remains.

The Ice-cream Man:

Genesis of

the Ice-cream Man

Once, a mild mannered ice-cream vendor… But one day, while driving his ice-cream truck down the suburb streets, humming along with the grinding high-pitched tune of Turkey in the Straw, the unsuspecting ice-cream man stopped for a group of innocent looking children.

He went to the back of the truck to receive the children’s orders, but the children were ordering too much… too fast. The ice-cream man couldn’t keep up. The children started becoming restless, and out of control.

The poor ice-cream man tried to withstand them… but they were just too much. The children started rocking the truck until it eventually started to flip as the ice-cream man is thrown into an open freezer and the door slammed shut… … …

Hours later…

The ice-cream man managed to pry the freezer door open. All around him, ice-cream everywhere… flames and destruction… chaos…

“They must pay… they must all pay!”

The ice-cream man swore vengeance against all children and the parents that raised them…

“I will destroy them all as… Ice-cream Man!”


brains! (Photo credit: cloois)

Someone tell my brain it’s only allowed to work on one project at a time. It keeps insisting on coming of with more and more side-projects, and it’s making it very difficult to get things done… I guess it’d be cool if it could at least learn to prioritize, but, no, it simply believes in trying to do all the projects at once.

So far I have to finish at least the first book of ‘Ravenblood,’ and then I also have more side-projects cropping up… ‘Natural Selection’ keeps taking my attention, which is cool (sort’of, but part of my brain wants to do more with that too, which simply can’t be), but now a couple other things I was playing with are insisting that I play with them more, and I simply don’t have that kind of time. I did a BS excerpt using my detective character, a character I have had pretty much no chance to make use of yet, but that little bit got my head running on trying to figure a way to finish it–it wasn’t even meant to be finished, it was completely meant to be only BS.

More importantly, if I do come up with anymore side projects, it has to be at least something that could be possibly submitted to something other than simply posted here, which seems to be the issue with a lot of them so far. ‘Natural Selection’ is pretty much stuck here, I see no way around that, which is cool, as I said, gives me a web-comic writer sort of feel I guess (which also hints at something that my brain keeps telling me I should do with NS–thank god my drawing skills are badly out of practice–although I did at least try to draw Bahb once). But, yea, I could always use money as a possible motivator, and something that gets me out there a bit more than this blog and its cute little stories…

So, damn you, voices, one at a time, and wait your turn!

PS: I’ll probably be posting ‘Natural Selection’ soon, and… dear’god, if the voices don’t shut’up, also a ending and/or re-write to ‘Mist’…