csyphrett

1 Logan Major studied the regional papers at his dining room table. He owned an interest in most of them. He leaned back in his chair. The front pages covered a series of thefts in Wisconsin. No one had seen anything, no one knew anything. What could he do about it? “I’m going now, Dad,” said Brady Major. “Will you need me after school?” “I don’t know, Brady,” said Logan. He looked out the window of the dining room. “These thefts are something new. Someone with a power is out there. We’re going to have to look into things but not until we know more.” “All right, Dad,” said Brady. “Let me know when you’re ready.” “Thanks,” said Logan. “Have a good day, son.” Brady smiled as he walked to the front door. He vanished out the door to catch his bus to school. Logan stood. There had to be more information than what he saw in the articles. He needed to talk to his investigators and find out if they knew anything more than what was printed. There had to be something there he could use. He stacked the papers together and placed them on the table. He pulled his phone. He checked the time on the face. His editors wouldn’t be in the office for another two hours. Logan put the phone away. He headed for his room. He needed to get his suit and head into the office. He should get in at the same time as some of the staff. Once he had a better picture of things, he could decide what to do about the thefts. Logan dressed and went to the garage. He climbed into his old Datsun and pulled down his driveway. He paused at the motorized gate so it could open for him to drive out. He turned and headed into the city. The paper sat in the middle of Walton Pond, opposite the city hall and police center. That saved time for when the crime reporters needed to follow up a story. He pulled into a slot in the public parking lot that serviced several of the businesses around the paper. He got out of the car and headed into the office. He waved at some of the writers and editors as he went to his work space in the middle of the staff area. He put his suit jacket over his chair as he sat down. He checked the paperwork in his in box before he called over to the editor. “Hey, Ken,” said Logan. “Who’s covering the Mercury Diamond theft?” “Phillips,” said Ken Hanson, the city editor. “He’s covering all those strange robberies.” “I would like to talk to him,” said Logan. “I want to know more about these thefts.” “I’ll tell him to come up and talk to you,” said Hanson. “What’s your interest?” “I want to pressure the police into stopping these thefts,” said Logan. “Maybe we can get mileage out of the scenes of the crimes.” “They won’t like that,” said Hanson. “We’re not here to make the police happy,” said Logan. “I’ll tell Phillips to talk to you,” said Hanson. “I’m going over financials at my desk,” said Logan. “I’ll be here for a while.” “All right,” said Hanson. “Do you need anything else?” “Not right now,” said Logan. “I may need more later.” “See you later, Logan,” said Hanson. Logan hung up. He leaned back in his chair. He checked his calender. He had meetings with the board, financial advisors, and had to look into buying into another radio station in Minnesota. He could put some of that off if Phillips could give him some lead to the thief. There had to be something everyone was missing that he could use. He went through his paperwork, sat through his first meeting, and then went over how much money he had flowing through his holdings with his advisors. Phillips arrived while he was ushering his hedge fund manager out of the conference room. “You wanted to see me?,” said Phillips. “Come in,” said Logan. He gestured at the conference room. “You are just in the knick of time.” “I got held up,” said Phillips. He wore a jacket and tie with jeans. He settled at the table and pulled out a small tablet from its carrying case. He set the tablet on the table so he could reference it. “I was in court when Ken called.” “I want to know how much you know about these unsolved thefts that are going on,” said Logan. He sat down at his place at the table. He had paperwork to fill out. He put that aside in a small stack. “The police have some forensics details they aren’t sharing,” said Phillips. “The gist is our guy can take locks and protective measures apart and then escape.” “How is he getting in?,” asked Logan. “I think the police think he can fly, or he has some kind of swing line he uses,” said Phillips. “Some of those thefts took place in high rises with cut out windows.” “Do you have pictures?,” asked Logan. “Some,” said Phillips. He opened a file on his tablet. He showed Logan the illegal entries he had taken pictures of with his phone. “I couldn’t get pictures of some of them. The police had cordoned off the scenes and the victims fixed the damage as fast as they could.” “I want you to go around and take pictures of the scenes,” said Logan. “Leave them on my desk.” “What’s going on?,” asked Phillips. “I’m interested in how these thefts are being done,” said Logan. “I can’t ask the police to give me a tour of everything. You, on the other hand, can go in and look around and ask more questions. Eventually the government will take an interest. There will be problems, and conflicts of interest. If we can identify this thief, and how he’s operating, maybe we can stop things from escalating.” “The government will want to take over the investigation,” said Phillips. “And they will tell us less than the police,” said Logan. “I don’t want to verify a press release from some suit.” “Do you want the pictures I already have?,” asked Phillips. “Yes,” said Logan. “Print them out and put them on my desk. I’ll tell Ken that I want you to examine the scenes of the crime before I have to get to this other meeting.” “All right,” said Phillips. “I have some other stories that I am working on.” “Are they life and death?,” asked Logan. “I don’t know,” said Phillips. “I’m trying to verify that someone in city hall is embezzling money for one. Then there is the Garret murder. I’m still trying to find someone who will talk to me about it.” “The kid on Thirteenth Street,” said Logan. “He took a stray bullet. No one wants to come forward to say which gang fired the shot.” “Exactly,” said Phillips. “They’ll stonewall you too,” said Logan. “Go ahead and get those pictures for me. It’ll give your embezzler time to steal more money, and Buddy Garret isn’t going anywhere at the moment. If someone comes forward, go back to it and cover it.” “You don’t think I can find anyone who will?,” asked Phillips. “You aren’t threatening enough,” said Logan. “People fear the shooter more than they fear you. If you haven’t dug up anything by now, you never will.” “All right,” said Phillips. His expression said he didn’t agree, but he wasn’t going to argue with his boss. “Did you dig up anything about the shooting?,” asked Logan. “Not much,” said Phillips. “The police think the Ardvarks and the Razorbacks started squabbling for turf. Guns were pulled and fired, and one bullet hit Buddy Garret in his chest. He died at the scene.” “Do you know who the shot callers are in either gang?,” asked Logan. “My source said they think a Deshawn Barden runs the Razorbacks,” said Phillips. “The other name they gave me was a Buck Clinton for the Ardvarks.” “Did they give you street addresses?,” asked Logan. “Sure,” said Phillips. He wrote down the addresses and handed over the sheet from his notebook. “I’m going to give this to someone and hopefully he will be able to do something about one of these gangs,” said Logan. “Don’t tell anyone I did this. I don’t want the police thinking we’re interfering in their investigation.” “I understand,” said Phillips. “Do you think he can get someone to talk?” “I don’t know,” said Logan. “If he can’t, at least we tried to crack this.” “All right,” said Phillips. “Is there anything else?” “I might need to talk to you when you have the pictures to get your opinion on things,” said Logan. “Let me know if you dig up enough to identify the embezzler.” “I thought you just published the paper,” said Phillips. “My grandfather and father helped build the city,” said Logan. “I try to help protect it now that they are both gone.” “I can see that,” said Phillips. “You thought about going into politics?” “Politicians have to answer to someone else, generally a lot of someones depending on where they got their money,” said Logan. “I only have to answer to myself and whomever owns part of the papers. And since I publish the paper, I don’t really have to answer to anyone else unless someone buys enough of the others’ holdings to have me removed.” “How likely is that to happen?,” said Phillips. “I don’t know,” said Logan. “But I have some things that I am trying to get done and this thief is stirring up trouble. So he has to go. Then I can try to get the money I need for my projects.” “What projects?,” asked Phillips. “I’ll let you know when I have them in the bag,” said Logan. “Go get the pictures. I have to make my meeting.” “All right,” said Phillips. He packed up his tablet. “Why the concentration on the entry points?” “No one knows who this thief is,” said Logan. “We all suspect he is powered up. If we can match the power to a known villain, we can identify the thief and help the police with their manhunt.” “And if we can’t,” said Phillips. “Then he’s someone who’s never been caught, or totally new,” said Logan. “Let’s see what we can find out before worry about that.”

I had one where Kolchak and Galgo are trapped in an elevator by masked gunman CES

I'll get a final roster up tonight, and then post for polls tomorrow. CES

The Shield 1940 1 Frank Flanagan walked into his lab in New York. He had converted a space underneath a factory he owned part of for this place under the city. He put the cares of the business world away while tinkering with things that drew his interest. He doffed his overcoat and hung it on a coat rack next to the door. He looked around. Everything looked ready to help him with the mysteries of the universe. Flanagan went to the shelf with his log books on it. He wrote down everything about an experiment as he did it. It saved him a lot of trouble of redoing something he had already done. He had two projects he was working on. He planned to create the next generation in bullet resistant cloth. The other project was trying to find a chemical mix that he could use to boost his physical and mental abilities. He admitted that both were failures at this point. The formulas he had tried on his rats killed them. Some became very violent and tried to eat their way through their cage bars. Some curled up and died. He performed autopsies on all of his subjects and most had their brains explode inside their skulls. The cloth burned up under the treatments he tried. He could not get the fiber to react the way he thought it should. He sat down at his work desk. He went over the experiments one by one. He frowned at the results noted in his changing script. He saw something that might be doable. He needed to mix the necessary things together. If this worked, he might be able to at least get his brain chemical to do more than cause gray matter to explode in their bony enclosures. If it didn’t, he would give it up so he didn’t have to cut up another mouse again. He got the bottles of chemicals from their shelves and placed them on his work table. He consulted the log book. He mixed together lower portions of each ingredient and put it in a stand over a Bunsen burner. He turned the flame up and watched as the chemicals started to simmer. The phone rang. He turned from the burner to go get it. Who would be calling him now? “Flanagan,” he said into the receiver. “This is Arnold Courtland, Mr. Flanagan,” said the caller. “I am calling to see if you thought about our offer.” “I thought we talked about this,” said Flanagan. “I don’t want to sell. I have something I’m working on. I’ll call you back when I’m done.” “Wait, Mr. Flanagan,” said Courtland. “I can double our offer.” The chemicals reached a steady boil in their container. Smoke gathered under the lid. The bottom of the glass turned black. “I have something cooking,” said Flanagan. “I will call you back, or you can call my office tomorrow. Good night.” Flanagan hung up the phone and went back to his heating set-up. He frowned at the bubbles roaring against the top of the flask he was using. He reached for the control knob on the burner. The flask shattered and covered him with the chemical mixture and broken glass. He fell to the floor. He tried to get out of his shirt and tie. Fumes put him to sleep while he struggled with the soggy mess. Flanagan woke up hours later. He didn’t know where he lay at first. He looked around and saw the small amount of damage to his equipment. He should not have answered the phone. He examined the log book. He had put down every chemical he had planned to use on the last page. He realized he had heated the mixture longer than he had intended because of his talk with Courtland. He had no way to know how many minutes the formula had boiled before it cracked the beaker. He figured at least two minutes, but he wasn’t sure. He wondered when his brain would explode and kill him. He sat down at his desk. How much time did he have? What could he do with it? The rats had died within minutes of their injections. So he should be dead in a few hours. He didn’t like the thought, but he could fall over at any moment. How did he want to spend his time? He couldn’t do a lot in the time he expected to die. Maybe he could figure out what was wrong with the fiber while waiting. He could give the formula to his partner to create suits for the army. He went back to the log book. He looked at the section that he had set up for the fiber. He read everything in a second. He frowned as he thought about the different chemicals moving in harmony to do what he wanted. He wrote down the formula he felt would create a breed of toughened fiber. He just needed to create some to make sure his formula worked. Flanagan took off his stained shirt and tie. He threw them in the metal trash can he used for failed experiments and went to his spare living quarters to clean up and get a new shirt. He went back to his office and unplugged the phone when he had his new shirt on. Why did Courtland want his company so much? It didn’t make sense. His operation was small and specialized in chemical engineering to make things. Some of his patents had been applied to aircraft, but that was just enough to keep the business going. He supposed the patents were valuable enough if added to something else. He considered the implications for a few moments while gathering up some string from a small pulley and vat he had built. He didn’t have enough information. He wondered how much Courtland would lie to him if he asked him what was going on. He expected something was going that he didn’t know about yet. He should go over his books again. Then he should go over all the contracts his company was involved in. He had feeling the answer was in one of those two places. He had talked informally with Courtland several times about his company. The man refused to take no for an answer. Maybe he should ask his staff to dig into the man. Maybe they could find an answer for him. He worked on the fiber for hours. The hard part was making sure that his creation didn’t break apart, rot away, or become so immobile that no one could wear it. It took him several tries, but he thought he had it. He tried to cut, burn, and bend the strands. They slightly reacted, but not anything like they should. He poured more of the chemical into a mold. He went to his bedroom and got another shirt. He pressed that down in the mold with the mix. He closed the top on the thing. Sleeves and tail stuck out of the lid, but that wouldn’t affect the chest area. Flanagan waited for an hour before he opened the lid. He smiled. The shirt seemed to be stiff as a board and hard as rock. He tried to set fire to it, cut it, or tear it. He couldn’t do any of that. He got his chair and took it to the end of his lab. He placed the altered shirt in it. He got his thirty eight from his desk. He fired into the shirt. He whistled. The material stopped the slugs cold. Flanagan laughed at his partial success. He needed a way to turn this into something someone could wear. How did he do that? He threw the empty brass and the crushed slugs in the failed experiment trash can. He put the gun back in his desk. He walked back to consider the shirt and its bulletproofing. He inspected where the bullets had struck. He found indentations in the front surface. He pulled the thing away from the back of the chair. Nothing penetrated to the back. The chair was untouched. Flanagan considered the evidence. He could make more of the stuff to stop heavier caliber bullets, and knives. The weak points were going to be whatever he used to join the two molds together. He realized that if he wanted to make the stuff into something usable, he might need to know how drilling worked on it. He could use that to put screws in to hold two halves together around the wearer. Did he have a drill in his lab? He looked around. He frowned when he didn’t see the required equipment. There should be one upstairs. He could take the bulletproof ex-shirt upstairs to work on it. The night crew knew him well enough to let him work on his business without bothering him. Once he was sure that the screws would work, or not, he could think of other ways to make a shirt out of his mix. He paused to consider that he probably was going to die before he figured out the problem. He checked his watch and smiled that he had already outlived the first rat he had tested on. He wondered how much more time he had before he keeled over. He carried his burden through the factory floor until he found a drill press. He asked the man using it to let him have five minutes. The guy stepped back from the machine. Flanagan put on safety glasses and put his vest under the drill. He spun the machine’s engine up and then lowered the bit against the hardened shirt. He checked it after five minutes. A hole was there, but it had taken longer than what he would have thought. He thanked his worker and took the shirt off the drill stage. He had something really tough compared to normal protective suits. A knight clad in one of these could take as many arrows as he wanted. He had to get his formula really tested before he tried to patent it, and put it on the market. He had a game changer in his possession. Something crashed through a skylight. He watched it fall to the factory floor. He realized the object had a lit fuse. He screamed at his people to get back as he ran forward with the vest in front of him. He fell on the object, covering it with his new invention. The explosion sent him flying.

epilogue Tribe smiled at the way his garden had grown. The turtles had been a big help as far as he was concerned. He should have thought about calling on their help sooner than this. He had rebuilt his garden on stages. When the Dreamtime shook, his little place should be all right. And the turtles guarded the edges of his spot from any intruders as best they could. He caused his ponds to connect the separate sections together. Fish emerged to swim in the slow moving water. He nodded at their bright colors moving through the clear streams. He placed several trees to cast shadow over everything. The dream sun waxed and waned, and so did the heat it produced. Shade provided a welcome respite. Maybe he could create a slow wind. That would cool things a little too. He thought about that as he set up a circle of rocks to meditate in when he wasn’t trying to improve his little space. He closed his eyes and thought about putting similar stone circles around the edges of his garden. They would be good markers for the boundaries. He pictured it in his mind. He just needed the right kinds of stone to mark his circles. He might be able to shape them into replicas of animals to serve as his totems in the spirit world of the Dreamtime. The turtles hissed at something moving outside his little circle of influence. He went to the edge to look at what had attracted their attention. He spotted the winged shadow of a bunyip flying across the ephemeral sky. Tribe watched the monster go about its business. As long as it kept away from him, and didn’t hunt in the real world, he was content to let it go. He couldn’t kill every monster in the Dreamtime. The place just spawned more to fill those gaps. There had been a time when he had hunted bunyips, yowies, and other things across the Dreamtime. He had decided to give that up. No matter how many he chased down, there were always more. Now he just watched them and made sure they wouldn’t cause him any mischief. Tribe went back to the center of his space. He smiled at the way the garden looked. He didn’t know how he could improve things. His vision was better than he dreamed. He watched as the turtles settled in next to the streams. They didn’t seem to want to move back into the Dreamtime. Usually they came and went. He frowned at the behavior. Then the birds arrived. He looked around at the dazzling colors. He scratched his face. He had never seen so many birds settling in one place in the Dreamtime. What was going on? Trees sprouted for the smaller birds. Herons and water birds congregated around the streams. They glared at him as he tried to figure out what to do. Where were these animals coming from? He concentrated. His memory failed him. He usually saw them moving at a distance. He noted that the streams were widening, pushing the boundary of his space outward. A crocodile the size of a tourist bus floated into the water way. It hung like a log within reach of the other animals, but did nothing. Some of the birds used its head and back for a perch. Other Tribes appeared out of the Dreamtime. They mostly looked like him. He frowned as they examined his space. What were they doing here? “Hello, brother,” said the eldest of the other Tribes. “You have done wonders here.” “What is going on?,” said Tribe. “I thought you had all evaporated into nothing.” “We are always here in the Dreamtime,” said the eldest. “That is our legacy. It seems you have done well.” “This is the best I have been able to build the garden since I started,” said Tribe. “Some trouble in the real world tends to ruin it when I have things half done.” “The garden is not what we’re talking about,” said one of the other Tribes, holding a staff of power in his hands. “You’ve saved the world, Stupid.” “I don’t understand,” said Tribe. “The lens you stopped the thieves from getting allows anyone with the right equipment to open doors to other places,” said the eldest Tribe. “Some of those places would have warped the Dreamtime, turned people into monsters, and ruined part of the ecology of the world.” “The authorities still have the lens to use as they see fit,” said Tribe. He looked at his predecessors. “I haven’t really done anything.” “They aren’t going to use it,” said the eldest. “They have a lot more sense than that.” “They are storing it away from people like Assault,” said the next oldest. “Exposing him also stopped a lot of mischief from happening.” Tribe nodded. He realized suddenly why they were there. He had saved the Dreamtime as well as the real world. And they wanted him to know how grateful they were. “Will this stay like this?,” he asked. He waved his arm to indicate the changed space around them. “Why would it?,” said the eldest. “You have to work a bit harder on the real world if you want your garden to grow.” “I have to work harder for my garden to grow?,” said Tribe. “In the real world,” said the eldest. He waved his arm to encompass the Dreamtime. “This place is created by reality wanting something more, perhaps trying out something that hasn’t worked right yet. It is our duty to maintain it, but also to maintain reality as best we can. That is why there is a Tribe, and why there always will be a Tribe.” “The humans have their own protectors,” said Tribe. “They don’t need me. My garden needs me.” “This is nothing without humans,” said the second eldest. He waved his staff. Desolation stretched out on all sides from where they stood. The trees burned down to spindly scarecrows. The birds and smaller mammals were ash. Turtle shells littered the broken ground. The streams became dry channels. “This is what you stopped.” He waved the staff again. Everything returned to normal like a painting being worked on around them with invisible hands. “You are nothing without the humans,” said the second eldest. He leaned on his staff. “What do you think will happen if you do not answer the call when you hear it?” “I understand,” said Tribe. “I don’t like it.” “No one ever does,” said the eldest. He smiled. “You saved the world, and the Dreamtime. What will you do next, guardian of reality and protector of humanity?” “I don’t know,” admitted Tribe. “I think I will think on things for a while.” “Remember that we will be watching you, brother,” said the eldest. “Don’t let us down.” The youngest of the other Tribes walked out of the garden first. Then the others one by one. Some of them he knew, and had dealt with before they had evaporated. He watched as his garden shrank with each departure. The birds flew away first. He frowned at the sight of a loon walking on the water, stepping on the crocodile, and then launching itself into the air. Other animals trundled out of the space. The additional trees shrank back into the ground. He watched as the roots pulled in with the trunks. The water dried up. The streams shrank into something only turtles would be happy with bathing in sometimes. The long crocodile settled on its tiny limbs beside one of the streams. “That one is mine,” said the second eldest. “He is waiting for us to go home.” “I do have one question,” said Tribe. “Why don’t any of you protect the real world?” “Because once you are dead in the real world, you are only alive in the Dreamtime,” said the second eldest. “And even then, you need a lot of thought to become real again as we have to talk to you and encourage you.” “You may never see us again,” said the eldest. “You will be the greatest of us if you work at it.” “A worthy successor,” said the second eldest. “Right now, you need a lot of work.” “I will try to live up to your high expectations,” said Tribe. “Good luck,” said the second eldest. He walked across the grass, clucking at the crocodile. The monster huffed at him. Then they walked out of the garden, fading away like the rest of the Tribes. The eldest walked down through the garden, inspecting everything with his eyes. The turtles hissed at him. He smiled back. He turned in a circle to take one last look at the area. “This is a good start,” he said. “A good start. A few more centuries, it will be great.” “Do you really think so?,” asked Tribe. “It might look like this,” said the eldest. He raised his hand. A mountain of terraces turned around a waterfall leading to a river into the Dreamtime. Animals that once existed, still existed, never existed outside of a dream shared space on the mountain. Plants of every kind shared space with the menagerie even when they shouldn’t. He lowered his hand and the dream vanished. “That was all a dream,” said the eldest. He raised his hand again. A man, woman, and five children appeared. They wore loincloths and paint. The man carried a spear and a boomerang. The woman carried a club. She stood in front of her children. He dropped his hand to let the family disappear. “I saved those people,” said the eldest. “They were real. Their legacy continues today in their descendants.” “That made them important?,” said Tribe. “No,” said the eldest. “They created the idea of us. That is what makes them important.” He turned and slipped away over the edge into the wilds of the Dreamtime. He waved as he went. “That’s a hard thing to consider,” said Tribe. One of the turtles hissed in reply. “I know I will never have a garden as big as that.” the end

marvelocity is a book detailing some of Alex Ross's work at Marvel. I was amused to see that he had needed multiple versions of characters and he threw in the Nick Hammond Spider Man, Reb Brown's Captain America, and Lou Ferrigno's Hulk, and Rex Smith's Daredevil and other television heroes. CES

I'm optioning Kolchak the Night Stalker, and Marty Coslaw CES

A report said someone in Pakistan tried to cut out a video in country and blew up the network by mistake because they put global on it. CES

Everybody should have nine picks. I am a couple behind. I am going to put my last few in tonight. Look over the draft and make sure I got it right. CES Certified The first pick is location. Bangor, Maine The second pick is the monster. Randall Flag Four heroes John Constantine Stephen King Rose Daniels Wil Wheaton as Gordie Lachance three options Dream Demons Allen Moore Death Tribble The first pick is location. Tokyo, Japan The second pick is the monster. Gojira Four heroes Doctor Daisuke Serizawa Professor Bernard Quatermass Irma Vep Chuck Norris three options Oxygen Destroyer Psybolt The first pick is location. Cabin outside Morristown Tennessee (Evil Dead) The second pick is the monster. Count Orlock (Nosferatu) Four heroes Cal Denham (King Kong) Mia Dolan (Lala Land) Micheal Dorsey (Tootsie) Peter Vincent (Fright Night) three options Dr. Strangelove Pariah The first pick is location. Gray 17 (Babylon 5) The second pick is the monster. Micheal (Stargate: Atlantis) Four heroes Micheal Garibaldi (Babylon Five) Ellen Ripley (Alien) Ash Williams (Evil Dead) Leeloominaï Lekatariba Lamina-Tchaï Ekbat De Sebat (5th Element) three options Wraith Bugs (Stargate: Atlantis) Csyphrett The first pick is location. Castle Rock The second pick is the monster. Janos Skorzeny (Werewolf) Four heroes Owen Pitt (MHI) Johnny Smith (The Dead Zone) Roland of Gilead (The Dark Tower) George Bannerman (Cujo) three options Janos Skorseny (Kolchak the Night Stalker) Mister Khan The first pick is location The Straits of Messina The second pick is the monster Scylla Four heroes Sgt. Frank Rock (Our Army at War) Peggy Carter (Captain America/Agent Carter) Indiana Jones (Raiders of the Lost Ark) Professor Trevor Bruttleholm (Hellboy) Three options

The journal reports someone stole a meals on wheel van. CES

The eighties Lion-O didn't have charges so that would depend on the background of the character CES

My next pick is Roland of Gilead CES

Irma Vep is allowable. CES

I am going to pick George Bannerman, the killer of Cujo for my third hero. CES

She's from Oklahoma. Why is this a surprise? CES

This is the roster at the moment. Check to make sure I put everything down right. Everyone should have a location, a monster and three of your four heroes/three options. The sixth pick will be today. I also would like to extend a welcoming hand to Mister Khan whom I don't think I have seen around in a while. Glad to have you back. CES Certified The first pick is location. Bangor, Maine The second pick is the monster. Randall Flag Four heroes John Constantine Stephen King three options Death Tribble The first pick is location. Tokyo, Japan The second pick is the monster. Gojira Four heroes Doctor Daisuke Serizawa Professor Bernard Quatermass three options Psybolt The first pick is location. Cabin outside Morristown Tennessee (Evil Dead) The second pick is the monster. Count Orlock (Nosferatu) Four heroes Cal Denham (King Kong) Mia Dolan (Lala Land) three options Dr. Strangelove Pariah The first pick is location. Gray 17 (Babylon 5) The second pick is the monster. Micheal (Stargate: Atlantis) Four heroes Micheal Garibaldi (Babylon Five) Ellen Ripley (Alien) three options Wraith Bugs (Stargate: Atlantis) Csyphrett The first pick is location. Castle Rock The second pick is the monster. Janos Skorzeny (Werewolf) Four heroes Owen Pitt (MHI) Johnny Smith (The Dead Zone) three options Janos Skorseny (Kolchak the Night Stalker) Mister Khan The first pick is location The Straits of Messina The second pick is the monster Scylla Four heroes Sgt. Frank Rock (Our Army at War) Peggy Carter (Captain America/Agent Carter) Indiana Jones (Raiders of the Lost Ark) Three options

Meet Dr. Eli Yodi, super genius. Dr. Yodi can make a teleporter gun from a spatula, a flashlight, some computer chips and a mirror. No one wants to make this absent minded professor to get dangerous. CES

The Scar Crow uses razor sharp straw and vicious crows to rob targets. He is deathly afraid of fire. CES

One Million Words Timeline 5000 BC- The Murmur tries to summon the Destroyer and is opposed by Nobody, Cain, Memphis, Al-a-Din, and others in the Destroyer. The line of Kings is created by the Destroyer. 1670- Bill Crenshaw is killed by a pirate hunter known as El Rey (The reincarnated King) in Crenshaw. 1935- Bobby Benson takes over from Cain in the Heir. He becomes the Mark. 1938- Sir Laurence Fletcher starts the Commando X program with its first recruit, James Rafferty. The mission is to investigate smuggler Mick Brown for the Secret Service. 1955- Barney Strife takes over for Joe Carlson as Herocles in Inherit the Monsters. 1956- Enemies of The Mark wound him and kill his friends and fellow spark bearers. He lethally retaliates against them. Will Williams and Ann Baker were killed. The Mark’s human side was wounded. Barberossa, Dr. Sybil, the Butterfly, Koal, and the Spine were all killed by The Mark in the End of the Light. 1964- The Hazard Scouts help the Park Service with an animal enrager. 1969- The Mark helps his alternate Earth counterpart, Captain Spark in Across the Divide. The Hazard Scouts are decimated by an unknown enemy in Showdown in a Small Town. Only Marty Morgan, the Animal Boy survives. 1976- Cassie Troy cements her prophetic abilities by stopping a summoned monster in a church for the life of her friend, Hector, in Cassie’s Knife. She is abetted by Nobody. 1979- Marty Morgan leads Corona, Cog, Finch and Ren against Watson Security and their superpowered minions, The Squad, and rescues Barry Nicklaus and Cortez from imprisonment in Revenge of the Scouts. 1986- The Mark meets Eleanor, Carrie, and Money. He introduces them to Spiffy, and Cassie Troy in the Sisters. Mark Hadron develops his lamp and begins to gather the original Lamplighters in Light the Lamp. 1990- Eleanor, Carrie, and Money help the Robot Rangers fight a building come to life in Tokyo in the Robot Ranger Rescue. 1992- Pablo Estevez introduces his trainee, Henry Harkness, to his mentors and Cassie Troy at the Good Eats Diner in the Four Musketeers. 1995- Shirou Morita becomes M-37 after touching an orb left over from the Apartment Man’s attack on Tokyo in M-37. 1996- Dr. Yamada tests a radioactive coat for M-37 in Testing for M-37 1997- M-37 responds to an earthquake in M-37's First Flight. 2002- Lynette Harkness is born to Henry and Martha June Harkness in Happy Birthday. 2010- Jason Parley gains the sword of the King during a bust of cultists and their summoned monster in Return of the King. Al-a-Din and his butler deal with a bombing in Master and Servant. Memphis helps Moshe and Sara Levram against the Dog Maker in Duel in the Desert. Tanner Lerner and Darla Huitt gain their powers from a meteor in Ink Buttons. 2014- The Lamplighters are decimated. Three are killed. Mark Hadron lost an eye and had a hand punctured. 2015- Jane Hillsmeirer talked to Mark Hadron about restarting the Lamplighters in The Hermit. Jason Parley, the modern King, threatened a deal of nonagression with the local mobster in A Parley. Denver McGinty picks up Kisara, Princess of the Genn, on the side of the road and drops her off in New York City in Girl on the Road. The basis for Lamplighters West is formed when four women ask Hadron for help dealing with Crenshaw the ghost pirate in Splinter Cell. Marcel Hobart is the first new recruit for the new Lamplighters in the Interview. Rangifer Tarandus, The Reindeer, evades the Black Wolves trying to save a town in Norway in Special Delivery. Patty Page, Kathy Baker, Lin Qi, Jean Lopez form the Lamplighters West and take on Crenshaw with the help of Mark Hadron in Blue Flames over San Francisco. Roland Givens is embedded with seven spirits by Amenophis and the Sons of Set despite interference from Tanner Lerner and Lynette Harkness in Button Pushing. Bobby Iger and Maria Garcia-Lopez join the Lamplighters after a talk with Harry Cho in Recruited. 2017- The Mark is killed by the Queen of Genn in Make Your Mark. Lynette Harkness helps fight the invasion in her training suit in New Girl.

I am so glad to reach 200k. Hopefully I can clock the next 200k a little faster. CES

Inherit the Monsters 1955 3 Strife stepped back. How did he stop a thing of smoke and fire? He needed more information. The group around the dragon didn’t look like they wanted to talk. And shooting them didn’t seem the right course of action. Maybe he could get something out of the two nitwits he had knocked out. He waved at the white man standing in the door of his house as he ran across the yard. He didn’t know if the man saw him, or not. He didn’t have time to save him while he tried to secure his captives so he had someone to squeeze for knowledge. He grabbed the two men and dragged them behind the house. A stream of green flame ripped through the wooden structure as he took cover. He slapped one of the men in the face. He needed to wake him up so they could talk. The first slap didn’t work. He did it again. A groan answered his effort. Strife grabbed the man by the neck with one hand. He slapped him with the other. “How do I stop that lizard?,” Strife demanded. “I don’t know,” said the summoner. “Hoke was the one who found the book, and stuff. He said we could wipe out the blacks.” “What book?,” asked Strife. “Hoke found this book when we looked through Joe Carlson’s house,” said the stool pigeon. “He took it home. He showed us some stuff, so we threw in with him.” “Did you take the body?,” said Strife. A beam of flame blew up a tractor in the yard. “Hoke said he couldn’t find the fuel he needed,” said the summoner. “It was the last place we looked.” “I want you to grab your buddy and run,” said Strife. “I’ll try to draw that thing off so you can get out of here.” “Good luck on that,” said the summoner. Strife helped the man to his feet. He picked up the other captive. He draped the man over his buddy’s shoulder. He turned the man around. “Count to thirty and start running,” said Strife. “Try to keep low. I don’t know how well it can see in the dark.” “Got it,” said the summoner. Strife ran down to the other side of the burning house. He pulled his thirty eight. He couldn’t see it working on the monster hovering above him. On the other hand, shooting the circle of callers might do something. He stepped out from behind the crackling wood. He started firing at the circle. He just needed to attract attention. It didn’t matter if the summoners died at this point except as revenge. Green flame lit up Strife’s world. The pressure of energy on the air sent him flying. He hit a burning tree and kept going. Strife picked himself up. He hurt all over. Pieces of his skin flaked away as he tried to figure out why he was still alive. Smoke filled his mouth and nose. He inhaled and let it rush into his lungs. He had a lot of questions. He put his survival down as a fluke. He looked around. His pistol was nowhere to be seen. How did he fight back against that thing? He took a moment to look at the setup. He felt he had time since the thing thought he was dead. The wounded summoners still maintained the circle around the base of the dragon. He had gotten lucky and shot at least one of the men in the head and he had joined his leader. The dragon rose above the circle. It glared at the world. It didn’t try to cross the circle’s line. Maybe it couldn’t. How did he get rid of it? Maybe if he could put the fire out, that would put the dragon out. How did he do that? There wasn’t any water around as far as he could see. He saw a well. He couldn’t get the water out of that fast enough to put the fire out. He needed something else. He couldn’t cover the fire with dirt fast enough to put the flame out. The Mark might be able to do strong man things like that, but he couldn’t. Strife looked around. He saw an outcropping of rock in the distance. It stood above the mowed grass. He couldn’t lift that with his bare hands. He saw a bulldozer. He wondered if the thing would burn him again if he could get that started. He ran for it, using the remaining trees as cover. He climbed up into the seat. He smiled when he saw the keys were still in the ignition. He turned over the engine and put the machine in motion. He lowered the blade so it scraped up the top of the ground as it rolled forward on its treads. Green flame touched the metal. Strife threw himself over the back of the machine. He didn’t want to be caught in an explosion. He landed in the fresh dirt. The tractor kept trundling forward. The top of it glowed under the assault of the dragon. The lizard reached down and picked the hot machine up in a paw. It flung the bulldozer away with a flick of its wrist. Strife looked at the pile of dirt. It was so close. A few more feet and the fire would be covered up. What did he do now? Flame reached for him. He threw himself clear. He caught a glimpse of the caravan. The cars and trucks still had their lights on. He realized the engines were still running. He might be able to make his plan work after all. He sprinted for the closest truck. He ran in front of bursts of burning air. He grabbed a rake on the way. He snapped it in half with a shrug of his arms. He hoped that this worked right the first time. He opened the door of the truck on the driver’s side. He jammed the stick in, and released the brake. He jumped clear as the truck sped off. Strife sprinted to the second car in line. He jumped behind the wheel. He released the brake and hit the gas. He squinted against the whips of flame reaching for the truck. He winced when it blew up in a ball of fire. He watched the dragon whip its head around to shoot at him in the fast moving car. He only needed to last for a few seconds. He saw the beast open its mouth. He gritted his teeth and kept going. The car plowed into the pile of dirt. It drove the soil on top of the flame. Strife turned around in the circle to spread it over the bonfire. He spun out on the other side of the circle. The dragon shrank with part of the fire put out. It turned to hiss at Strife as he looked at it. He got out of the car. He looked up at it. The dragon opened its mouth to fry him again. He ran into the circle. He stamped the remaining flames out with his bare feet. It hurt, but it had to be done. He brought his foot down on the last spot and extinguished the bonfire for good. The men fell. Blood poured from the wounds he had inflicted earlier. The smoke dispersed. It took the dragon with it. Strife looked at the devastation. He shook his head. He wondered how much worse it would have been if that thing had been able to wander around. One of the summoners had come through the mess without getting shot, or burned. He looked around in a daze. Strife walked over and punched him in the face as hard as he could. The man went down with a twisted jaw. Strife decided that maybe he shouldn’t hit people as hard as he could from now on. He seemed to be a lot stronger. The deputy decided that he needed something to wear. He couldn’t walk around without his clothes. He paused. He had lost his wallet, and his pay. He went and took the dead men’s wallets. He looted the living summoner last. He walked to where he had left his car. He needed to call in and see if he could get a fire department out there to put out the flames. Maybe he could get someone to take over for him so he could go home and get his other uniform. He reached his car and was glad he had left the keys in the ignition. He opened the trunk. He pulled out a blanket and turned it into a kilt until he could get some clothes. He looked through the wallets. He found one for Hoke Mosh. He read the address. He decided to go out there and look around. Maybe he could find whatever they had left from Joe Carlson. Strife sat down behind the wheel. This had already been a long night, and it wasn’t midnight yet. He grabbed the mike. He had to call this in. Then he was going to look around Mosh’s place. “Sheriff’s Office,” Strife said into the mike. “Anybody there?” “I’m here, Barney,” said Orrie Zabbai. “How’s it going at the cemetery? Anybody show up to dig up any more dead people.” “I wouldn’t know, Orrie,” said Strife. “I’m out here at three five five seven Old Savannah Road. There’s fires, and dead men. You might want to send the State Police, and a fire department.” “What?,” said Orrie. “You heard me,” said Strife. “You might want to get things going. I have to get a new uniform. I’ll write everything up when I get back to the office.” “Wait!,” said Orrie. “What am I going to tell the sheriff?” “Tell him there was some kind of gas explosion,” said Strife. “I think he should hurry. He might find some survivors out here.” The deputy put the microphone down. He looked in the mirror. He saw a pinpoint of light. He got out of the car. A man in a dun coat puffed on a cigar as he led the two guards and the old man from the burned down house on the road. “You again,” said Strife. “How’s it going, Deputy?,” said the man in the coat. He helped the others sit on the side of the road. “Who are you?,” said Strife. “What do you know about this?” “I’m just a nobody,” said the man in the coat. He made a half shrug in his coat. “I was passing through and saw things needed a nudge. You came through all right. Good job.” “Getting me burned to a crisp was a nudge?,” said Strife. “You’re more of a hero than I thought,” said the man in the coat. “Joe’s old protections worked like a charm, didn’t they? If I were you, I would think about who else might want to use that old book Mosh wanted from Joe. It might prevent a lot of trouble if you found it first.” “We’re not done,” said Strife. “Time’s wasting,” said the man in the coat. “And put some pants on.” “You think you’re funny, don’t you?,” said Strife. “A regular Jack Benny,” said the man in the coat. He puffed on his cigar as he turned to walk away. “You did a good job, Deputy. Joe would be proud you’re taking up his mantle as the next Herocles.” “I don’t want this,” said Strife. “Who does?,” said the man in the coat. He vanished into the dark. “Are you guys all right?,” asked Strife. The old man nodded. The surviving summoners looked at the ground. “I have to go,” said Strife. “Help is on the way. I told Orrie this was a gas explosion. I think you three should do the same.” The old man nodded again. Strife got in his car and drove to Hoke Mosh’s trailer on the other side of the county. He found Joe Carlson still guarding his book in an easy chair while watching television with embalmed eyes. The deputy took the book from the dead hands. He took it outside and set fire to it. He ignored the wailing in the air as it burned. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or not, but at least no one would use the book again. //201481

6 Tribe wondered what he should do. Assault wanted Clonus to do something. He was not going to be pleased if that didn’t happen. On the other hand, he could tell the press he had captured Clonus and he was turning the criminal in to the police. That would let Assault know he couldn’t use this pawn to get what he wanted. That would leave Assault free to get some other cat’s paw to carry out his scheme, and get him what he wanted. If he knew what Assault wanted, he could fake stealing it and turning it over. Taking on Assault could be extremely dangerous, and he didn’t want to get killed because he misread the other man. Maybe he could bait some kind of trap. He should call the authorities and let them bait the trap. He preferred to work on his garden in the Dreamtime. He frowned. If he didn’t do something, Assault could keep trying until he got what he wanted. He didn’t want that. The damage to the Dreamtime would be immense. It might not recover. He had to set the trap and capture the fugitive on his own. Then he could hand him over to someone who could keep him locked up and away from people. Part of a plan sprang into his mind. He just needed a way to get Assault somewhere he could battle without hurting anything. Assault had a reputation for using his powers at full power despite not needing to do that. Clonus’s phone rang. Tribe hesitated for a second. He picked it up and took the call. “Yes,” said Tribe. He tried his best to imitate Clonus. “Are you ready to move?,” asked the caller. “Where and when,” said Tribe. He tried to stay as close to Clonus’s voice as he could. “The pickup is a convoy that will be heading for the dock yards at nine,” said the voice. “The prize is a little box in a truck marked 01956. The box will be marked hyperspacial lens.” “Where do you want it brought?,” asked Tribe. He tried to sound as much like Clonus as he could. “Take it to the usual place,” said Assault. “I will pick it up there.” “All right,” said Tribe. “I will drop it off for you.” “I want one of your clones guarding it until I can pick it up,” said Assault. “I want to be sure it’s the right thing.” “Guarding things costs extra,” said Tribe. “That will be fine,” said Assault. “Get the lens and be at the meeting place. I will put half of your charge into your account. How much do you want?” “Ten percent,” said Tribe. “Fine,” said Assault. He didn’t sound like it was fine. He sounded like someone contemplating getting rid of his cutout instead of paying the money. “I will meet you at the drop off at about ten,” said Tribe. “I will be there,” said Assault. “Make sure you have it in hand when you get there.” “You don’t have to worry about that,” said Tribe. “Your lens will be in your hands almost as soon as I can grab it.” Tribe cut the connection. He expected Assault to arrive to kill Clonus before the man knew what happened. He also expected Clonus to present a clone so the rest of him could make an escape. Clonus would never risk a meeting with Assault if he couldn’t get away in some fashion. Now all he needed to know was where was the usual meeting place. Clonus would know, but he doubted the multiplying menace would want to give that up him. He grabbed the side of Clonus’s skull. He sifted the contents as gently as he could. Assault had known where his subordinate’s base was and had been given to dropping in. Another meeting place was a spot in the center of the city near the city’s financial district. Tribe frowned at the implication. He had to meet Assault and take him before he did anything destructive to the city. He also had to hold Clonus until he could be handed over to the authorities. He couldn’t let his mental grip on Clonus go. The villain would recover his ability and try to escape. It also didn’t seem like a good idea to take him to the meeting. He definitely could not take Clonus into the Dreamtime. That would cause too many problems for that frame of reference. He decided that he should take Clonus to the police and leave him with them. It wasn’t the best solution, but he had no way to hold Clonus except to keep him asleep. The police could do that better than he could. Then he had to meet Assault. It would be better if ten of him met Assault, but he didn’t have that ability in his repertoire. He would have to figure something out when he reached the battlefield. The first thing he needed to do was call the police and have them come to the house and reclaim the stolen property. He could hand over Clonus then. Then he needed to use the remaining time to get to the meeting with Assault. He opened Clonus’s phone and called the emergency service. They would direct his call to the appropriate response without making him jump through too many hoops. “Emergency,” said the phone. “What is the nature of your problem?” “I have captured a burglar and claimed his goods,” said Tribe. “I need powered assistance.” “What is your name?,” asked the operator. “Tribe,” said Tribe. “Is this some kind of joke?,” asked the operator. “No,” said Tribe. “I am calling from the villain’s phone. I have captured him and recovered the articles that he had stolen as far as I can tell.” “Give me your address,” said the operator. “I’ll call the police and have them come out there.” Tribe gave her the address, a description of the house and for sale sign out front. She asked him to stay on the phone and he did so. He checked Clonus every few seconds to make sure he stayed knocked out. He talked to the operator to report the arrival of the first policeman on scene. Once his identity was confirmed, and the identity of his capture, a van was dispatched from the Special Branch. It would have a cell that could hold Clonus in place until they had him in a real prison cell. Tribe waited until the van arrived. Once Clonus was locked down in the back, he started back into the city on foot. He had to get to that meeting and talk to Assault. Then he could go back to the Dreamtime and work on his garden in peace. Tribe headed for the biggest road. Once he was there, he could hitch a ride into the city. Then he could change transportation to get to the meeting place with Assault. He reached an on-ramp and jogged up until he was on the shoulder of the road. He felt stronger with the transient population all around him. Now he needed a ride. He spotted a cargo van going his way. He waited for it to pass before jumping on the back bumper. He pulled himself to the roof of the boxy cargo holder and sat down to wait for his exit. Tribe watched the signs. He spotted his coming up. He stood and waited for the right moment. Then he jumped from the cargo truck, landed on the rail of the overpass, and then dropped down to the street below. He landed lightly. He jogged toward his destination, cutting through open areas where possible. He wanted to be there before Assault got there. He didn’t want the villain ready for him. He wanted to be in place and ready to spring on him when he showed up. Tribe reached the courtyard. Tables with benches were placed around the edges of the cobblestone platform. A small park surrounding the spot produced enough trees to give him cover to wait. Several buildings hovered over the scene like giants. He stood in the trees and waited. He still had time. The only problem he foresaw was the possibility that Assault was watching the robbery. He would know something was wrong if he knew that Clonus hadn’t did his part of the job. A red flash sparked on the other side of the courtyard. A man in scarlet and gold walked out of the trees. He paused when he didn’t see his employee. “Clonus?,” asked Assault. He examined the small courtyard with suspicion. “He couldn’t make it,” said Tribe. He stepped out of hiding. “Do you want to come along quietly?” “No,” said Assault. His eyes threw two lances of red fire at Tribe. The thin man dodged to the right. The city supported him better because of the location, but he still didn’t want to get burned to a crisp. The beams sliced through one of the concrete benches easily. Tribe reversed course as the beams swept after him. He leaped the beams and landed almost within reach of the red ravager. Assault looked at him. Two holes blew through his chest. “I’ll have to settle with Clonus later,” said Assault. “At least you won’t be able to tell anyone else about me.” Tribe looked at the two holes through his chest. He looked at Assault. He punched the man in the face. The cracking of bone rewarded him. He staggered forward. He grabbed a leg trying to kick him away. He put Assault asleep with a mental yank of his brain. Tribe sat down on the cobbles. He closed his eyes. He started forcing the wounds to heal so he wouldn’t evaporate into nothing like the Tribes before him. Assault could wait the minutes this would take.

The Harvest Moon controls gravity but his control is cyclical. The bigger he is, the more force he can exert. At least three days out of the month, he is powerless. CES

Spectrum news sticker says court to hear on protection of Pacific walruses CES

Inherit the Monsters 1955 2 Deputy Strife shook his head as the sun went down. He had been on the scene at the cemetery for hours. The sheriff still hadn’t called back to release him. Abandoning his post looked good at the moment. He doubted anyone else was on the way to take over for him. The sheriff probably forgot to release him. It had happened once before at a wreck heading up to Atlanta. The sheriff had allowed him to stand on the side of the road after the cars and passengers had been cleared out by tow trucks and ambulances. His explanation was he had forgotten to send the all clear. Strife grumbled in the descending dark. Goldbricker probably forgot him again. What did he do about it? He checked his watch. He would give the goobers one more hour. After that, he was going back to the office and checking out. Strife saw a spark in his mirror. He got out of the car. He looked out of the gate. Something burned in the distance. Earle City didn’t have a fire department. Out on the edge of the county, he might be able to call a company from one of the bigger municipalities. He needed to see where the fire burned before he did that. Strife got back into his car and turned it around. He headed out of the gate and rolled toward the glow. If he got back to the cemetery and it was empty, a fire took precedent over a graverobber. The sheriff should have sent one of the others to sit on the cemetery. Sitting in place for hours seemed to be all they were good at doing. Strife realized the burning was on a farm back off the main road. He wondered if they were burning debris. Should he bother checking it? He decided he was still on duty for the next forty five minutes. He might as well at least look at it. He pulled up to a gated fence. He got out of his car. The fire burned behind the farmhouse. He thought he saw people out there. He decided to check it. If it was the owners, it had gotten him out sitting on his butt. If it was trespassers, it had gotten him out of sitting on his butt. The fence consisted of wooden slats fixed in upright planks. The gate rested awkwardly on its hinges. He didn’t bother opening it so he could drive up. He jumped the fence and marched across the lot toward the farmhouse. He wondered what was going on. It didn’t seem right to have a bonfire. Maybe it was the Klan. Strife walked over to the bonfire. The figures he had seen were pylons stuck in the ground. Little flags flew from their tops. He looked at the farmhouse. A family stood there. The father had a bleeding cut on his forehead. “Anybody want to tell me what’s going on?,” Strife asked. “These people came and set our yard on fire,” said the mother. “Then they danced around the flame, and said some things. Then they piled into their cars and left. Their leader said they had some more fires to set.” “How long ago was this?,” said Strife. “About sundown,” said the woman. “They said that was the best time to do their business.” “They hit you, sir?,” said Strife. “I tried to stop them,” said the father. “The one guy hit me. He told me to stay out of the way. This was the end of negras.” “Really?,” said Strife. “Let me put this fire out, then I’ll go look for these idiots.” The deputy walked back to his car. He opened the trunk. He pulled out the fire extinguisher he got from one of the volunteer fire departments around Earle City. The sheriff didn’t want to spend money on the equipment, so he spent money out of his own pocket to get the thing. He had wanted it in case he had to deal with a vehicle fire. Now he was going to put it to putting out this bonfire. He walked back to the fire. He primed the extinguisher and then let a white cloud attack the flames. Two minutes of spraying blasted the burning pile to smoldering ashes. Strife nodded when the fire emitted smoke and nothing else. The extinguisher had been a good idea. He pulled the pylons out of the ground and stacked them up next to the burnt grass. “I have to go look for these idiots,” said Strife. “I’ll come back and file a report if I can find them.” “Be careful,” said the woman. “They sounded like crazy people.” “Go to the doctor and get that crease looked after,” said Strife. “I’ll look around for these guys. If I catch them, I’m going to need someone to press charges.” “It won’t be us,” said the man. He pushed his children into the house. “It would be our word against a bunch of white men. That would never fly.” “All right,” said Strife. He picked up the fire extinguisher. He walked back to the car. He put the red sprayer in the trunk as he thought about his next move. He got behind the wheel. A bunch of whites burning blacks’ property was the problem. Where could he find the whites? He decided to cruise along this part of the county. He expected to see something if he drove along far enough. He didn’t need witnesses if he caught this group redhanded with their hands on the gasoline. He noticed a light in the distance. This could be the group that he wanted. He rolled forward to get a closer look. If he could catch them in the act, it was the hoosegow until the sheriff decided what to do about the charges. The lazy goof would probably cut them loose so they could continue their rampage. A caravan of cars and trucks rolled out of a driveway. They turned and headed away from the police car. Strife paused at what he should do. Should he stop and help with the fire, or chase after the line of vehicles? He braked the car and jumped out. He grabbed the extinguisher from the trunk and ran up to where another family watched their yard burn. The fire had been built around a tree and it stood framed against the sky. Strife aimed the sprayer at the flame and threw out a cloud of white over it. He sprayed as much of it down as he could. Then he handed the red can to whom he thought was the most qualified adult there and told him to keep at it until the foam ran out. He ran back to his patrol car. He had to get after that caravan before they started another fire. Once he had that done, he could run them in for arson and destruction of property. Strife got behind the wheel of his car and rolled down the road. He could still see lights in the distance. They winked at him as the trees and other growth blocked them from sight. He didn’t bother to put the siren or lights on. He didn’t want them to see him coming. They might keep driving out of the county if they saw him coming on after them. He slowed to a stop when he lost sight of the caravan completely. He got out of the car. He looked around in a circle. Where had they gone? He spotted three red lights moving perpendicular to the road he was on. He realized they had turned off on one of the farm roads ahead. He had to hurry if he wanted to stop them from burning anything else. Strife got back in the car and rolled along. He kept his eyes scanning for the right turnoff ahead. He nodded when he came to a gravel road and saw the brake lights ahead. He backed up and turned onto the road. He wheeled down that more cautiously as the patrol car bounced on any irregularity in the road. He pulled up under a tree to assess the danger he might be facing. He counted about fifteen men in what looked like costumes from Ben Hur. Some of them poured gasoline on the ground. Others hammered pylons like the ones he had seen at the other properties into the ground. A couple of the men pointed rifles at the house and shouted for the people to stay inside. If he wanted to stop the men, he had to do something about those rifles. He couldn’t count on them not shooting at him when they saw his badge. It was time for him to get to work. He got out of the car. He pulled his pistol and circled around in the dark. He didn’t think any of the working men paid him any attention. Once he was close enough to do something about the guards, things would get exciting. Strife came on the first man with a rifle while the man was watching the house. He wasn’t watching behind him, or to one side. The deputy whacked him on the head as hard as he could with the butt of his thirty eight. The man groaned as he fell to his knees. Two more whacks stopped that. Strife searched his victim. He took a wallet, loose money, and a bag of something. He didn’t look into the bag. He put everything in his pockets before he picked up the rifle. He put the thirty eight in its holster. Strife looked around. No one seemed to be looking at him. The other guard watched the preparations for the bonfire. His rifle rode the crook of his arm so he would have to adjust his grip to bring it up to shoot. The second man never saw the wooden butt that knocked his lights out. Strife looked at the group of men preparing the bonfire. They had gathered around the perimeter, standing outside the pylons like the wooden stands marked a do not cross line. One of the men pulled out a lighter to set the bonfire ablaze. “Stop, or I’ll shoot!,” said Strife. “Just put the lighter down, and everything will be all right.” The man with the lighter looked at him. His eyes glinted in the night. He smiled to show rotten, crooked teeth. He thumbed a flame into life. “I will shoot you,” warned Strife. “Put out that flame, and step away. This is the last time I am going to tell you.” The man dropped the lighter into the gas soaked grass. Blue fire ran through the grass. A shape formed into a word that vanished under a layer of smoke. Strife shot the man. He felt that he couldn’t let whatever was going on keep going, and shooting the leader usually stopped that. The man looked at him in anger, but he didn’t fall down like the deputy expected. The group of men laughed as their leader advanced on the deputy. Smoke trailed from the man’s mouth. “Now is the time that I impose my will on your petty species and wipe out your civilization,” said the man. “You can’t stop me now that I have made the call.” Strife shot him again. This time he put the bullet in the man’s head. He might be wearing a bulletproof vest. Shooting higher should take care of that. This time the man did fall down. Smoke erupted from his mouth and nose. It fled to the other men that had formed the circle. Their eyes changed as Strife watched. They took on that red glint and smiles as they regarded the deputy. “Give up, or face the consequences,” said Strife. He pointed the rifle at the closest man. “You are too late to do anything to stop me, man,” said all of the group at the same time. “I have made the call.” Something reared out of the drifting smoke. It looked down on the farm with burning eyes. Strife took a step back. He had seen a lot of things in Korea, but nothing like this. If someone had told him he would come home from killing Chinese and Koreans to face a dragon of fire and smoke, he would have punched them in the face. //199414