Hong Kong, 1973
The communicator at Maggie’s side beeped. Which
caused the other patrons to give her a look. More than being
just a foreigner, she was an angelic looking one at that. She politely
smiled, reached down and brought the comm to her lips. She held it close to
her mouth as she continued walking down the crowded city street, dressed in a
rain slicker.
"Give it to me," Mags said.
"That lead that
you sent us on. We've got a situation over at the Golden Palace," a
man said, his voice worried. "It's something uncanny and
scary and it's got the locals spooked."
"I'll be there in a
jiffy," Maggie said. She snapped the communicator closed and entered the
alleyway. Dropping the rain slicker, revealing a midnight black body
suit, she slung the katana over her shoulders and then jumped to a
ladder to get to the roof.
20130627
A Glitch
Max was the first to recover from the shock; his eyes flickered open
like a television set in the morning. The wave had washed over them,
knocking them off of their feet. "That hurt."
The four of them were getting to their feet. Looking around to see if they could spot anything different, or familiar.
"No kidding," Maggie adding, dusting herself off. "One would think that we should be able to get used to it."
Max grunted.
"What just happened?" Suki asked in disbelief; this was her first shift.
The four of them were getting to their feet. Looking around to see if they could spot anything different, or familiar.
"No kidding," Maggie adding, dusting herself off. "One would think that we should be able to get used to it."
Max grunted.
"What just happened?" Suki asked in disbelief; this was her first shift.
Intro the Cube, Take 2
MAX, wearing a red t-shirt with a Psycho For Hire logo, runs through an UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE. He's being chased by three men).
MAN 1: There he goes, he's rabbiting!
MAN 2: Damn you Cube, just stop!
MAN 1: (pause) Man, this is like deja vu.
MAX glides behind a corner, his mp3 player headphones showing, flings open a door and runs up a flight of stairs. He runs down a hall, gunshots fly. He dives in an elevator as bullets riddle the insides. The doors close. He stands up and straightens his shirt and presses 13. After he presses 13 he hits the stop button. The elevator stops. He hits 13 again and the doors open to a bright light. The sound of techno music fills the elevator.
CUT TO a NIGHTCLUB INTERIOR. MAX and MAGGIE sit at a table.
MAGGIE: You sure it was Big Lo Pi? He's a real scumbag. I hope you didn't lead his thugs here, or else I am going to kick your ass... but I already said that before, didn't I?
MAX gives MAGGIE a wink.
MAGGIE: Oh sweetie, don't tell me that this is just a loop we're caught in? And in seven seconds some hit-men are going to be pouring out of the elevator... again.
MAX: I played the Time Card.
MAGGIE: That was a one-time thing only, for an dire emergency.
MAX just shrugs.
MAGGIE looks towards the elevator, seeing the numbers flashing on the door above the entrance to the nightclub. Her hand reaches underneath the table just as the elevator opens and several dark-suited fully armed men enter the nightclub.
MAGGIE: Well, might as well play this out again.
Time to Kick Some
"You set?" Dex asked.
Max nodded. A cigarette dangled from his lips; he was leaning up against the wall as if posing. A gun hanging at his side and dark sunglasses on.
After all, got to look good. You never know who is watching this, he thought.
"Good," Dex replied, slinging the rucksack onto his shoulder. "Let's rock."
Dex picked up the baseball bat, his pride and joy, his signature weapon, and kicked the door open.
Max glanced back at the rag-tag crew that he had recently teamed up with; a Shaolin monk who was a tiger at one time, a stubborn ninja who killed with silent ease, a street punk with a bible fetish, and a huge street-savvy cop.
Is this my story that's unfolding? he thought. Or am I just a secondary character to one of them?
Max could see the camera angle on the shot. His mind working in overtime, he was going through an unscripted scene, but since this was only a series of movies he felt as comfortable as James Bond. Because Bond was always back in the next movie. Not always the actors who portrayed Bond, but Bond himself.
If I am going nuts, I am going to go out in style.
Dex led the way through the door, bringing that bat down on the head of the first of the Mooks. Max could hear the crack of the Mook's skull.
They always die easy. Mooks are only extras who don't even know that they are pawns.
Of Spiders and Flies
Max lay on his bed, sheets unfurled about him. He was hot and sweat clung to his body like an LA smog. His arms crossed above his head, staring upwards, watching a house fly crawl across the ceiling. He was thinking that he should get up and get going, but he couldn't remember where he was supposed to get to.
The fan by his bed was steadily blowing the air on him, cooling the body but not the mind. His brain, the size of Venus, was on standby waiting for the switch on the power bar to be turned on.
He watched the fly take off from the ceiling and head elsewhere, when suddenly it got caught in a spider's web. The fly trying to break free, its wings fluttering fast, pulling back, but in its attempt it alerted the web's creator.
Max watched the drama unfold. The spider crawled from its hiding spot to consume the blood of its victim. The fly sensing danger fluttered faster but it was a futile effort. The web held it fast. The spider began to pick up pace, but before it reached the target it disappeared.
Max, still lying on the bed, had pulled out a gun from behind a pillow. He was holding it skyward; smoke drifted from the barrel as if it had finished a sexual encounter.
"Not today," he said.
20130626
When An Angel Cries
New York, 2000
Wraith perched outside her window, sitting on the edge and looking up at the night sky. Tears streaked down her face as if an angel was painting on a canvas. It was after midnight and she could hear the heartbeat of the city; it meant a lot to her, knowing that the city was alive.
The wind caressed her like an old lover as her midnight hair danced along the cool summer breeze. She brought a tissue up to dry her grey eyes. She had never seen a soul that was more messed up than Max. She was crying because she had peered into a void of content and had seen the pain that he had gone through, and the pain that was yet to come.
There was a ring. An old fashioned ring. The kind of ringing you hear when watching an old detective movie.
A rotary phone sat on the ledge beside her; she didn't like cellphones. She felt that it took something away from the character; a portable monster that attached itself to your face and sucked the time away.
Who really needs them, she thought as she picked up the receiver. Life is too short to be constantly chatting on a phone.
"Hello," she said. "Yes," she replied. "Okay."
She sat there several more seconds then hung up the phone.
She could hear music from the apartment below her. The young lads below liked to listen to some of the classic alternative music from the 70's; bands like Nectar, King Crimson and Klaatu. Wraith commended them on their taste of music. Which certainly fit the mood she was in.
Heaven is a Cup of Coffee
Pretty George drummed his fingers along the table; he was humming along
with the radio tune. It was something old and classic. His cafe latte
arrived and was placed before him. He smiled at the waitress, who must have been in her late 50's, and she genuinely
smiled back.
Pretty George had a quality about him. The waitress' face went flush and her heartbeat picked up. His eyes locked with hers, showing warmth and tenderness and promising a night of passion so intense that it could melt the butter in 13 states around them.
"You can turn it off now, Pretty," Mags said as she sat in the seat across from him.
Pretty chuckled, and the waitress looked at Mags. And for one instant Mags saw that the woman was intent on doing her harm, but that passed like a shadow from a small cloud. Mags shook her head and smiled; Pretty had that certain charm about him. Potent, but too gentle to be creepy.
"Hello Maggie Mae," Pretty said.
"Let's cut to the chase, Pretty," Mags said. "Did you get the stuff?"
Pretty feigned disgust. "After all these years do you think I don't know what I am doing?"
"Of course not," Mags said. "Just that it was an unusual request, is all."
"That's nothing unusual; it was easier than getting the sweat of Elvis in a vial," Pretty said. He toed the bag underneath the table so that it brushed Mags' leg. And she nodded.
Mags flashed him a smile and asked, "Sweat of Elvis?"
"It's a long story," said Pretty as he brought his latte to his lips. Before tasting what the aroma promised to be heaven, he added with a slight wink, "I shall tell you some morning when you finally discard that lugnut of a wingnut of yours."
Pretty George had a quality about him. The waitress' face went flush and her heartbeat picked up. His eyes locked with hers, showing warmth and tenderness and promising a night of passion so intense that it could melt the butter in 13 states around them.
"You can turn it off now, Pretty," Mags said as she sat in the seat across from him.
Pretty chuckled, and the waitress looked at Mags. And for one instant Mags saw that the woman was intent on doing her harm, but that passed like a shadow from a small cloud. Mags shook her head and smiled; Pretty had that certain charm about him. Potent, but too gentle to be creepy.
"Hello Maggie Mae," Pretty said.
"Let's cut to the chase, Pretty," Mags said. "Did you get the stuff?"
Pretty feigned disgust. "After all these years do you think I don't know what I am doing?"
"Of course not," Mags said. "Just that it was an unusual request, is all."
"That's nothing unusual; it was easier than getting the sweat of Elvis in a vial," Pretty said. He toed the bag underneath the table so that it brushed Mags' leg. And she nodded.
Mags flashed him a smile and asked, "Sweat of Elvis?"
"It's a long story," said Pretty as he brought his latte to his lips. Before tasting what the aroma promised to be heaven, he added with a slight wink, "I shall tell you some morning when you finally discard that lugnut of a wingnut of yours."
Intro the Cube
CUT TO UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE in HONG KONG.
MAX, wearing a yellow t-shirt with a Sunnydale High logo, runs through an underground parking garage. He's being chased by three men.
MAN 1: There he goes, he's rabbiting!
MAN 2: Damn you Cube, just stop!
MAX glides behind a corner, his ipod headphones showing, flings open a door and runs up a flight of stairs. He runs down a hall, gunshots fly. He dives in an elevator as bullets riddle the insides. The doors close. He stands up and straightens his shirt and presses 13. After he presses 13 he hits the stop button. The elevator stops. He then hits 13 again. The doors open to a bright light. The sound of techno music fills the elevator.
CUT TO NIGHTCLUB INTERIOR. MAX and MAGGIE sit at a table.
MAGGIE: You sure it was Big Lo Pi? He's a real scumbag. I hope you didn't lead his thugs here, or else I am going to kick your ass.
MAX gives MAGGIE a wink.
MAGGIE: Oh sweetie, don't tell me that you did.
MAGGIE looks towards the elevator, seeing the numbers flashing on the door above the entrance to the nightclub. Her hand reaches underneath the table as the elevator opens and several dark-suited, fully armed men enter the club.
MAGGIE: You're a real bastard. That's why I love you so much.
Thunder Mourning
Lightning erupted, followed instantly by the crash of thunder. The storm
was right over top of them. Maggie
sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee sitting before her offering an
inviting aroma.
Max was pacing across the floor. Walking to and from the window. His face as stoic as a statue. Maggie knew what it was, though; she had only seen him do this once before. She opened her mouth to say an apology.
"It's not your fault and you know it," Max said.
Max was in mourning; he had grown attached to Suki. She was like a kid sister to him. She was killed trying to protect an injured Maggie.
Max was pacing across the floor. Walking to and from the window. His face as stoic as a statue. Maggie knew what it was, though; she had only seen him do this once before. She opened her mouth to say an apology.
"It's not your fault and you know it," Max said.
Max was in mourning; he had grown attached to Suki. She was like a kid sister to him. She was killed trying to protect an injured Maggie.
Faux News
Police Investigate Weird Accident Shooting
by Hank Markins
BLUDRAVEN, NY. (AP) - When police arrived at a West End neighbourhood to investigate a possible homicide, they found a car wreck with what looked like brain matter and blood on the front seat, dashboard and windows - but no sign of the victim.
Police began searching around the vehicle and discovered several gun shells scattered about. Police began knocking on doors and a lot of the neighbourhood claimed to have seen or heard nothing, except for Lunden Kallen.
Kallen was watching television when she heard a commotion and peered out of her window to see what was happening.
"First of all, there was this flash of light and yelling and screaming," said Kallen, an eyewitness to the event. "There was the fellow who stood on the hood of the car firing round after round at this huge man behind the wheel."
Kallen went on to say, "The car swerved off the road and into the tree sending the guy on the hood onto the lawn there. And the driver of the vehicle got out and was walking towards the man on the lawn."
She describes the driver to be over six feet tall and wearing some kind of gorilla suit, with what looked like a diver's helmet on.
Kallen doesn't know what happened next, since she was scared. She did notice that the man in the gorilla suit seemed to be unaffected by the severe wounds that he suffered.
Police are trying to locate the victim in the gorilla suit, and a caucasian male in torn jeans and a yellow t-shirt with the words Control Freak. If you happen to see them or have any information, phone Bludraven PD.
by Hank Markins
BLUDRAVEN, NY. (AP) - When police arrived at a West End neighbourhood to investigate a possible homicide, they found a car wreck with what looked like brain matter and blood on the front seat, dashboard and windows - but no sign of the victim.
Police began searching around the vehicle and discovered several gun shells scattered about. Police began knocking on doors and a lot of the neighbourhood claimed to have seen or heard nothing, except for Lunden Kallen.
Kallen was watching television when she heard a commotion and peered out of her window to see what was happening.
"First of all, there was this flash of light and yelling and screaming," said Kallen, an eyewitness to the event. "There was the fellow who stood on the hood of the car firing round after round at this huge man behind the wheel."
Kallen went on to say, "The car swerved off the road and into the tree sending the guy on the hood onto the lawn there. And the driver of the vehicle got out and was walking towards the man on the lawn."
She describes the driver to be over six feet tall and wearing some kind of gorilla suit, with what looked like a diver's helmet on.
Kallen doesn't know what happened next, since she was scared. She did notice that the man in the gorilla suit seemed to be unaffected by the severe wounds that he suffered.
Police are trying to locate the victim in the gorilla suit, and a caucasian male in torn jeans and a yellow t-shirt with the words Control Freak. If you happen to see them or have any information, phone Bludraven PD.
A Moment Before We Begin
"You knew?" Max asked. He looked at Maggie with a cocked eyebrow. He had unzipped a sling-bag and took out some clips.
"I know," Maggie replied. She checked the clip in her gun and slapped it back inside the weapon, then holstered the firearm.
"You do?" Max asked. He was in the process of laying 13 clips on the table.
"That I do," she said with a smile. She removed her jacket and dropped it to the floor, took her katana and slung it over her shoulder.
"But how?" Max questioned. He began placing the clips into the webbing.
"Call it a hunch," she replied as she drew the blade. "We can talk about this later. Right now I think we have company."
"Sure, change the subject!" he said mockingly. "After this is done though, we are going to have to have a serious little chat."
Maggie blew him a kiss then walked to the door. Outside the sound of metal feet could be heard.
Max gave Maggie a wink and then added. "Let's do it."
"I know," Maggie replied. She checked the clip in her gun and slapped it back inside the weapon, then holstered the firearm.
"You do?" Max asked. He was in the process of laying 13 clips on the table.
"That I do," she said with a smile. She removed her jacket and dropped it to the floor, took her katana and slung it over her shoulder.
"But how?" Max questioned. He began placing the clips into the webbing.
"Call it a hunch," she replied as she drew the blade. "We can talk about this later. Right now I think we have company."
"Sure, change the subject!" he said mockingly. "After this is done though, we are going to have to have a serious little chat."
Maggie blew him a kiss then walked to the door. Outside the sound of metal feet could be heard.
Max gave Maggie a wink and then added. "Let's do it."
The Big Black Night
It was a dark and stormy night...
A dim light shone in a small room. It offered a balance to the glow of the neon sign just outside the window. Painted on the window was Cube Investigations with the tagline "We Have the Time to Solve The Crime On Your Dime".
Max Cube sat behind a desk, his feet up and his arms stretched back behind his head. A cigarette dangled from his lips; smoke drifted hazily towards the ceiling. He tried not to think since, for some reason, his thoughts were broadcast out loud to no one in particular. And, for some reason, the same or another, everything was black & white.
The music from the radio was loud enough to drown out some of the noise coming from street level, but not quite all of it. Max loved the sound of the traffic below his office. He chuckled to himself. Being a paranormal investigator was a good life.
The phone rang. Max let it ring three times before picking it up.
"Yo," was all that he said.
"Mr Cube?" a voice inquired.
"The one and only," he lied.
"Good." The voice sounded reassured. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question?"
"It's going to cost you," Max said. He leaned forward and butted out the cigarette. He reached for the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. He poured himself a drink.
"How much?" the voice asked.
"Well, that depends on how severe the question is."
A dim light shone in a small room. It offered a balance to the glow of the neon sign just outside the window. Painted on the window was Cube Investigations with the tagline "We Have the Time to Solve The Crime On Your Dime".
Max Cube sat behind a desk, his feet up and his arms stretched back behind his head. A cigarette dangled from his lips; smoke drifted hazily towards the ceiling. He tried not to think since, for some reason, his thoughts were broadcast out loud to no one in particular. And, for some reason, the same or another, everything was black & white.
The music from the radio was loud enough to drown out some of the noise coming from street level, but not quite all of it. Max loved the sound of the traffic below his office. He chuckled to himself. Being a paranormal investigator was a good life.
The phone rang. Max let it ring three times before picking it up.
"Yo," was all that he said.
"Mr Cube?" a voice inquired.
"The one and only," he lied.
"Good." The voice sounded reassured. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question?"
"It's going to cost you," Max said. He leaned forward and butted out the cigarette. He reached for the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. He poured himself a drink.
"How much?" the voice asked.
"Well, that depends on how severe the question is."
The Eight Slugs
New Mexico, 1877
Two horsemen approached, their horses tired and worn out from a long hard run. Now they were taking it easy; if they were to go any faster they would surely perish.
A young fellow was holding the reins of the other horse, leading it along while the rider of that horse was slumped over the saddle, trying to stay on.
"Hold on, Maggie," the fellow said. "Just a little further. There's a medicine man who will take care of you. He fixed me up real good."
Maggie was leaning forward on the horse, holding on with much difficulty. She had lost a lot of blood on the trail and she felt that this would be it for her. She didn't acknowledge her companion because that would take too much effort.
She wasn't doing too well, with 8 slugs in her body. She felt like giving up but her spirit was much too strong.
"We're there," the man said.
"I hope this fellow is a good as you say, Bill Bonney," Maggie whispered.
Two horsemen approached, their horses tired and worn out from a long hard run. Now they were taking it easy; if they were to go any faster they would surely perish.
A young fellow was holding the reins of the other horse, leading it along while the rider of that horse was slumped over the saddle, trying to stay on.
"Hold on, Maggie," the fellow said. "Just a little further. There's a medicine man who will take care of you. He fixed me up real good."
Maggie was leaning forward on the horse, holding on with much difficulty. She had lost a lot of blood on the trail and she felt that this would be it for her. She didn't acknowledge her companion because that would take too much effort.
She wasn't doing too well, with 8 slugs in her body. She felt like giving up but her spirit was much too strong.
"We're there," the man said.
"I hope this fellow is a good as you say, Bill Bonney," Maggie whispered.
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