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killer shrike

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killer shrike

Subj: EPITOME COMICS #3
Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 at 10:34:54 pm EDT (Viewed 10 times)
Reply Subj: Guess what I bought this week?
Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 at 06:21:46 pm EDT (Viewed 11 times)

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Epitome Comics #1 “Bad SEED”




The masked man was big. Easily six foot five in his steel toed boots and, as Sergeant Loggia’s grandfather would have said, “as broad as a barn door”. The plainclothes detective could not figure out how this brute could have gotten so close to the hostage without anyone noticing.


“You,” Loggia levelled his service pistol, “release Reverend Davis now! Then get on the ground and place your hands on top of your head!”


The masked man didn’t even look back over his shoulder, “That’s not happening, Sergeant. I have a job to do here and prostrating myself at the feet of Parodiopolis’s most corrupt power-broker is not the way to go about it.”


“Do it, or I will- aw shit!” there was a rush from the crowd as one of Davis’s bodyguards attempted to engage the attacker. He fared as poorly as the others flanking the podium, as the masked man simply waited until he was close enough to wrench the collapsible truncheon from his grip and drop him with a casual elbow to the face.


“I admit your men are loyal, Davis. Or maybe they’re just as rotten as you and don’t want to be found out,” the masked man hoisted the community leader up by the collar of his $3500 suit high enough so that his $450 loafers dangled off the raised dais.


Loggia and several of his uniformed brethren continued to hold the attacker at gunpoint. This was the worst possible circumstance for this to happen under, “This is your last warning! Let go of Davis or we will shoot you!”


“Sergeant, your impotent threats have convinced me you’re a dumbass. I’m going to ignore you from here on out. As for you, Davis,” the masked man shook his hostage so violently he became a blur, “time to confess.”


“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ah! Ah! What?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Davis cried once he stopped spasming.


The attacker adjusted his cowl’s chin strap with his free hand, “Yes you do. It’s not anything you haven’t heard before, only this time its coming from someone who can make you answer.”


Heisting Davis over his shoulder, the masked man leapt off the platform and towards the structure that had drawn the crowds, the press, and presumably the masked man himself.


“Strategies for Equal Economic Development,” Reverend Davis could see his attacker smirk as the identified the non-profit Davis headed, and was currently pinned against, “A lot of promise in those words. But what’s the truth?” The masked man swung a fist back and punched through the brick wall up to his elbow.


“My god, what are you?!” the reverend’s face was ashen as he watched his assailant yank his arm free, dust from the broken mortar caking his glove and arm, “How are you doing this?!”


There was the familiar pop pop pop of gunfire. Davis yelped as he saw the policemen’s bullets strike the back and shoulders of the masked man. The shots did nothing more than put several holes in his double breasted leather jacket.


“I’m the solution to the problem,” he kept smiling. A quick pivot of his heel, and the man had swung Davis around so he was facing the police and the crowd once more.


“Hold your fire!” Loggia ordered.


“Don’t shoot! Jesus, don’t shoot!” Davis flung up his arms.


“Own up, Davis, or next maybe it’ll be you that gets put through this wall,” the masked man cajoled.


“I- I- All right! All right! I admit it! The slush funds, the kickbacks, the money laundering! Its all true. SEED is just a scam!”


“Very good,” Davis’s attacker dumped him to the ground. Stepping over his quaking form, he turned his attention back to the police, “Save your bullets. The only thing they have a chance of doing is ricocheting and hitting someone who doesn’t deserve it.”


“I need a tactical unit to Dubois Park, now! We are engaged with a suspect who is heavily armored and I don’t know what else!” Loggia screamed into his phone.


“As for the rest of you, I hope you got the message. It does not matter where you rank in this city’s pecking order; play fair or become a target of MISTER EPITOME,” the Paragon of Power gave a wink to the cameras and charged through the SEED building’s exterior wall, then several interior walls, until the newly christened six story boondoggle collapsed on itself.



Next: “Of Laws and Supermen”




Epitome Comics #3: “Along Came a Spider”




Reverend Clayton Davis was brought to a small room away from the general visiting area. The guards, whom he did not recognize, removed his shackles and exited.


“Where’s my lawyer?” the head of SEED demanded, “You can’t talk to me unless my lawyer is here.”


A pair of men joined Davis in the room. One in full military uniform, the other wearing a slate grey suit.


“Reverend Davis, I’m Colonel Fitzsimmons. We need to speak with you, off the record. It is in your best interest to cooperate, sir.”


Davis scowled, “You can go to hell.”


The other man, the civilian, perched himself on the edge of the table close enough to Davis for him to find his position uncomfortable.


“I have nothing to say to you either, spook,” the reverend told him as he inched his chair away.


“Mister Epitome found your safe,” the man in gray told him plainly. Shrugging, “Yanked it out from the floor and ripped the door right off.”


Davis looked stricken.


“Whatever you kept in there, he’s got it now. Which, given how much effort you put in securing it, makes us assume is not good for you.”


“How can you let that psycho run free?!” Davis sputtered, “He’s breaking more laws and doing more damage than I have ever been accused of!”


Colonel Fitzsimmons nodded, “Your country agrees with you, sir. That’s why I’m here. In exchange for your full cooperation in apprehending the fugitive, the President and the governor have both signed off on granting you immunity from any potential prosecution that might arise from your current situation.”


“I’m not making any deals until I meet with my attorney.”


“No lawyers, Rev,” Gray Suit explained, “Stakes are too high for them.”


“You’re in rarefied air here. This goes beyond some petty ante corruption charge or your right to due process,” Fitzsimmons’s tone became more severe, “Mister Epitome is a clear and present danger to the nation, and if you fail to help us secure his capture we will bury you so deep down you’ll come up in a different hemisphere.”


Gray chimed in, “Or, we’ll just let it slip you’re cooperating with us on investigating The Cluster and leave you to their tender mercies.”


Reverend Clayton Davis’s eyes bulged out from his head, and his face drained of color. He began to tremble.


“Hhm. Looks like we know what really scares you, huh, Rev?”


“Something’s wrong,” Fitzsimmons moved from his chair towards the increasingly convulsing prisoner, “He’s having some kind of seizure.”


“Damn it. He’s bugged,” Mister Grey leapt up and produced a stilletto.


“Bugged?! How- My Lord!” the officer watched as Grey wrapped an arm around Davis’s head and bent it forward to expose his neck. He could see a small bulge rising and writhing beneath the skin there.


“Grab him, Colonel! Hold him steady,” the agent shouted as he was buffeted by Davis’s wildly flailing arms. With Fitzsimmons’s help, he used the knife to cut an incision into the neck, then taking the tip of the blade to pry out the object buried inside: a tiny metallic bauble with several filaments trailing from it.


Reverend Davis screamed and broke away from the pair. Clutching at the wound, he did a faceplant on top of the table. After a final spasm he became motionless.


The guards rushed back in to the room, “Sir, what happened?”


“Go back outside,” Colonel Fitzsimmons ordered, “We will call you when we need you.”


Mister Grey turned Davis over and checked his breathing and heart rate, “Rapid but stable. It wasn’t enough to stop his heart, at least. It’ll take a CT scan to learn what effects the pulse had on his brain. We need to get him moved to Silver Springs Hospital immediately.”


“What just happened? What is that thing? Who or what is The Cluster?”


Aldrich Grey took his handkerchief and and used it to wrap up the gore stained bauble he had extracted from the reverend, “Classified, Fitzy. Though I can tell you Parodiopolis has more to worry about than just a super-powered vigilante.


“It’s infested.”




Next: “Trouble at the Waterfront”





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