CLASH #301 – FIND IT, NOW

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “FIND IT, NOW!”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Click.

Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.

In a dusty dirty back room somewhere in Olympus, Zeus stands inside a room alongside Ares, Mick Gordon and a whole host of Arcadia Police Department officers. There’s a lot of talking amongst themselves as Zeus figures out his next move.

“Quiet,” he says, hushing them all into an immediate silence. “You’re all correct in your assumption that a threat has been made to Arcadia; more notably, Olympus.”

Ares folds his arms.

“We’re still trying to understand what that threat is, so do not jump to conclusions,” The Bodyguard reminds them.

“Should we just shut Olympus down?” Jackson Cade steps up with a suggestion. “We can protect everyone in it if we shut it down until we know more about the threat.”

Zeus looks to Ares, then to Mick Gordon, who rolls his eyes.

“No!” He responds defiantly. “Shutting this place down isn’t an option.”

Just then, into the room bursts a masked Hermes, carrying yet another note. He frantically passes it to Zeus.

“There’s a bomb,” he breathlessly tells him. “They’ve told us to give back Ace Lawton, or they’ll detonate it. Where is he being held? I can retrieve him if needed sir.”

Zeus shakes his head.

“That’s also not an option,” he says, looking at Ares who shrugs. “Ace Lawton was a traitor and was handled as such.”

He begins pacing the room.

“But that doesn’t matter because I’m surrounded by the greatest force in Arcadia; the APD. I want you guys to search Olympus high and low for that bomb. It has to be here somewhere, and you need to find it, now!”

As the officers begin exiting the room and making their way to do a complete search of Olympus, Mick Gordon pulls Jackson Cade to one side.

“What’s your fucking problem, kid?” He asks sternly. “Do you want me to fire you?”

Jackson shakes his head.

“I’m sorry sir,” he apologizes sincerely. “I just wanted to help.”

“First you interrupt Ares once we’d delivered Lawton to him, and now you’re making suggestions to the Barron?” Mick asks with a look of confusion on his face. “You’re gonna get yourself noticed, Jack.”

“About that,” Cade interrupts. “Did you find anything?”

Gordon shakes his head.

“Not yet, but these things take time. If you keep opening your yapper, I wouldn’t be surprised if we lose you too,” Mick says, shrugging his shoulders and walking away.

Cade lowers his head, taking a deep breath.

“I’ll find him,” he says to himself, determined. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “PORTFOLIO”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Jackson Cade stands just outside a large yellow door. 

The Gallery.

“I hope this tip pays off.” Cade mutters as he opens the unlocked door and enters into a large hall.

Taking a moment to adjust his vision, the APD officer is taken aback by what he sees.

Arranged like an art gallery, with carefully lit exhibits, are nothing but grotesque scenes.

Bodies. Twisted, mutilated, and torn to shreds.

Art, indeed.

His face pale with shock, Cade looks at all of these victims, knowing that he’s truly found the one he’s looking for.

“Welcome to my nest, little Eagle.” 

Cade whirls around, pointing his weapon at an utterly unconcerned Jasper Redgrave.

“I’m going to bring you in.” Cade asserts, readying his rifle.

Redgrave merely smiles.

“On what charges, officer?” He replies, sidestepping the advancing Perseus. “I don’t think there’s any law that determines how bodies are disposed of.”

Jackson, already troubled, stops. 

“There are laws against murder. And Zeus’s law will be followed.” 

Shaking his head, Redgrave walks over to where his sword is leaning up against the wall.

“You have no proof I killed these people, perhaps I just found them and took them? If you’re so determined to be go ‘by the book’ little Eagle, then I suggest you find the killer. Or perhaps you’d like to take in my portfolio a little longer? You might learn something about real art. See anything you like?”

“You’re sick.” Cade growls.

“I’m no more sick than those who would embalm or cremate corpses. At least I do something productive with the bodies of the dead. I’m sure you’ve wondered what happens to those who’ve met the business end of that rifle of yours, haven’t you?”

No answer. Redgrave smiles.

“Ah,” he begins. “Not a killer, then? Not yet anyway. The APD has a habit of turning all of it’s little Eagles into ruthless killers.”

He leans in, coming so close to Cade that the young man can feel his breath on his neck.

“Like me.”

With force, Jackson shoves Redgrave into the wall, his rifle pointed at his neck. 

“No more games. Let’s see how you handle a real interrogation.”

Redgrave merely nods, letting Cade cuff him without a fight. As he’s being led off, Redgrave offers no resistance.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, little Eagle.”

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “AGENT DE LA MUERTE”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Backstage, in the heart of Olympus, El Mariachi Muerte walks the halls, preparing for his match later tonight. On his back is his precious guitar. As he walks through a set of doors, he’s set upon quickly by two fleeting hands, which in all the confusion manage to push him down into a cushioned chair. Across from the chair is a desk, and in a high-backed chair, facing away from Singing Death, a figure sits.

El Mariachi Muerte looks up at the hands that pushed him into the chair and finds that they’re attached to a vision of pure horror, a woman in a blood-soaked hospital-blue dress and white undershirt. She half-sneers, half-smiles at Singing Death.

“Why have you brought me here?” Singing Death asks, feeling the discomfort of the guitar digging into his back.

“Quiet, patient,” the woman says.

“Patient?” replies El Mariachi Muerte.

“Oh, Nurse Frightingale, there’s no need to be so cold with our new patient,” the figure in the chair says, before swinging around to face his foe. He too is soiled with blood, down his yellowing smock, and on his mask and wide, low-brimmed hat. “After all, this is just an informal catch-up. He made no appointment to see us about any specific ailment, did he?”

The nurse, who had begun loading a syringe with a clear liquid, a smile on her face, looks suddenly disappointed, and drops her arms to her side.

“Shame,” she says, and steps back into the dark corner of the room.

“I presume you are Dr. Death,” says Singing Death. “I have heard of you, of course.”

“That’s good, because it will make my questions so much easier,” the Hood Doctor replies. “I couldn’t help but overhear your beautiful song last week, and I just needed to get you here to speak about that. Make sure you’re all fine and well. In the head.”

Muerte looks puzzled. Dr. Death continues.

“You see, my Mariachi friend, the song you sang, of the death of a sweet, sweet woman. Well I can’t help but notice it sounds an awful lot like a patient of mine who was unfortunately rendered deceased not so long ago. A lovely woman with a swallow inked on her arm. It sounded like you were singing about her because you knew her – but this is impossible. I keep my patients confidentiality as a pillar of my morals.”

Singing Death stands from the chair, having had enough of this inquisition.

“Señor, I’m sure your patient was as sweet and lovely as you say. And I’m sure you gave her the best care you could. But understand this, my friend, I am an Agent De La Muerte. An agent of death. The songs I sing are not purely for pleasure, no. The songs of death I sing are vivid stories come to life. I bring death upon those I sing of. There is no way you could have saved this woman from her grizzly end, if indeed she is the same woman I sang of.”

The Hood Doctor makes to respond, but before he has time, Cantando la Muerte is gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “INSTIGATION”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Deep within the confines of The Bleak are we once again greeted with the sounds of distant yelling and seemingly endless sounds of struggling and fighting that come from within this decrepit part of the slums.

“I knew this place still needed help, though I suppose that’s all that can be asked of me when the savior of this place is so inefficient.” Kpavio is once again roaming through the many pathways of The Bleak, the Skull now looming over the deceased body of yet another thug taken down ruthlessly yet swiftly. He examines him for hidden weapons when an arm wraps around his neck!

“You were told to stay away from my district.” A cold, familiar voice seeps out, filling Kpavio’s ears for a mere moment.

KPAVIO’S HEAD GETS SLAMMED INTO A NEARBY WALL AND HE CRUMPLES TO THE GROUND!

The Skull tries to look up before a foot comes crashing down heavily upon his neck, keeping him stuck on the ground and leaving him to only assume the owner.

Mannfred Curze.

The Night Haunter has been stalking Kpavio since he entered the district, seemingly unseen in the darkness and unheard until he wished to be heard. He leans down, keeping Kpavio forced to the dirt as he speaks.

“Outsiders don’t belong in The Bleak, these are my people, my terrible, hellish people. This is your last chance to leave before you join the victims of my haunt.” His voice is quiet yet sharp, speaking with authority before removing his foot from Kpavio’s neck. The Skull slowly rises, looking Mannfred in his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re part of the reason it’s a hell, you’re a horror just like them and all you’re doing is proving this place needs me.” The Skull’s face is unseen, but we can hear the sneer in his voice.

“I know,” Curze says, unaffected by his enemy’s words. “Now go.”

Kpavio stands there for a moment, sighing as he backs away into the darkness. “I’ll go, Mannfred. But soon, soon I’ll be back. Arcadia needs a hero.”

The Skull disappears, Mannfred looking down at the corpse Kpavio left behind as we fade to black.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “TREASURE”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Previously Recorded

In among an expanse of rock and nothingness sits a field of clovers. Empty to the naked eye, but a small figure appears from within its hidey-hole in a rock. Knick Knack looks about, noticing the coast is clear and he whistles into the empty air.

Soon, he is joined at his side by Tallywhack and other figures appear from all over. Behind rocks, within little caves. They all converge on the Cloverfield, to where a large rock stands. The lookout taps the rock, an intricate rhythmic pattern. The entire Cloverfield seems to open up and the earth itself rumbles. A dwelling of sorts erupts out of the ground, a little like a tavern but only half-sized.

“Home! Bout feckin’ time.”

Tally pushes past his brother and slips inside the hideout. He re-appears moments later with a fresh bottle of whiskey, taking a long glug. He tosses it to Knick Knack, who promptly follows suit.

“To the victor, the spoils! Let’s ‘ave a looksey.”

The pair disappear back into the rock expanse they were hiding in, appearing again moments later dragging Blacktooth’s treasure chest. They drag it inside Cloverfields and sit it in the middle of the tavern floor.

“What’cha think, Knacky? How many credits you think are in there?”

Knick Knack’s eyes gleam.

“Blacktooth’s prize? Enough to fund his entire operation. We’re feckin’ rich Tally.”

“Drinks on us tonight lads!”

With that, Tallywhack takes to the treasure chest lock with a crowbar, popping it off and flipping open the lid.

The excitement in the air soon dies right the fuck down.

“What the feckin’ feck?”

“That’s not gold. Tally… You feckin’ promised.”

The treasure chest that the Lucky Charms had just dragged halfway across Arcadia is full to the brim, not of gold, but of body parts.

Severed limbs, Fingers, chunks of flesh.

Knick Knack reaches into the chest and pulls free a dismembered arm. He turns it over in his hands for a moment before slapping Tallywhack across the cheek with it.

“You told me it was gold, you feckin’ bastard.”

Tally opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a whistle from outside. A whistle that is cut abruptly short.

“They’re here.”

They barely have time to close the chest before the door to Cloverfields bursts open and one of the Lucky Charms family comes falling backwards, a cleaver in his chest.

“Get out here, ya’ fucking little shits…”

The voice of Blacktooth brings them abruptly back into the present.

“Bring my treasure with ya, or yer going to lose more brothers today.”

Knick Knack looks at the severed arm he is still holding, noticing something. A golden ring, glinting on one of the fingers.

“Tally. We can still make something of this ruddy chest.”

Tally opens the window, looking outside into the field of clovers where Blacktooth and a dozen of his mercenaries stand. He tosses a round ball, which instantly starts letting out smoke. Before long, the entire air of the field is thick with smoke.

Knick Knack taps a lever behind the bar and the tavern itself plunges back beneath the level of the ground – with the Lucky Charms still inside it, along with Blacktooth’s ‘treasure’.

By the time the smoke clears, the field of clovers is simply that again. The dwelling, along with the Lucky Charms and the treasure, is gone.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “NARRATIVE”   [/edgtf_highlight]

The House of Sovereigns.

Inside Zeus’ palace of a home, The Barron resides. Instead of being in Olympus tonight, Ares has suggested that for now, he remain safely and securely at home. He isn’t best pleased about that, but if Olympus does go boom, no-one needs Zeus to go boom with it.

Zeus, however, isn’t alone.

Stood opposite him is none other than Colt Ramsey.

Ramsey hands the Barron a packet and watches as he opens it, taking a peek inside. With an expression of frustration on his face, he looks at the photographs given to him by Colt and shuffles them back inside the packet.

“Has anyone else seen these?” He asks.

Colt shakes his head.

“No,” he confirms. “I didn’t even know what I’d managed to capture until I developed them today. I do however have some alternative photos for a somewhat different narrative if you’re interested?”

He pulls another manilla packet from his back pocket and hands that to Zeus, who looks inside and comes back with a wry smile.

“You did this?” He asks with a chuckle.

“I did,” Colt replies with a stern expression. “I have my reasons. I think if you followed this narrative instead of the other, it’d be better for everyone.”

Zeus thinks about it for a moment.

“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for coming to me, Colt,” Zeus says with a handshake. “It won’t be forgotten.”

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “CHILD”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Destructo Boy. The young hero to be walks through the slums looking for something… or rather someone. He dips around a corner and soon finds himself looking at a ramshackle homestead where we see The Arcadian Mummy sitting on a rusty chair cleaning beneath his bandages with scavenged medical supplies.

“Burned Man?” Destructo Boy’s voice rings out, The Burned Man putting down his bottle of saline and glancing back at the hero, seemingly unenthused by his presence.

“Hero.” He speaks bluntly, standing up from his chair and wrapping up the hand he was cleaning. “Is there a reason you’ve come to my door or are you simply patrolling a safer level?”

“No! I’m… I’m just here to make sure Doom didn’t come for you again. I heard what he said about your condition, I figured he’d be back to get you if he could.” The young hero speaks with conviction, slinging the Kingdomblade over his shoulder as he speaks. However, this simply elicits a tired, if not sympathetic chuckle from The Mummy.

“You’re kind, I can tell. But like I said, you’re nothing more than a child. You have good intentions, yes, but men like Doom? They’ll devour you. I know what the evilest of Arcadia is capable of, my wife and child… they know even better than I do. If you want to do me a favor, Hero, then you’ll stay away from Doom-“

“Never. Men like him won’t stop unless someone steps up to stop them.”

The Burned Man simply sighs again, walking past Destructo Boy as he does. “I see. Well, think on it. I’d hate to see the evils of this place take another kind soul.”  The Burned Man walks off out of sight, Destructo Boy frowning as he does.

“I’ve thought on it. I just think Arcadia needs a little Faith.”

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “you!”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Narcissa Balenciaga is pissed!

Striding with purpose through the backstage area, the Fashionista blows through an open door before coming to a pause.

“You!” She yells.

The ‘you’ in this instance is the black-clad woman sat cross-legged on the ground. Candles surround her, lit with a sickly green flame, providing the only light in the room. Runes have been scrawled into the walls. 

This is Gemini. Not the sweet girl we met last week, but the witch.

The witch.

Her eyes open, studying Narcissa up and down with a leering grin.

“Finally!” Gemini declares. “My dear, I knew you’d come for me.”

Shaking her head, Balenciaga is more pissed than she was to start.

“You turned me away, you psycho. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I don’t want anything to do with your bullshit!”

Floating off the floor, Gemini comes to a standing position. She leaves her circle, and gets uncomfortably close to the other woman.

“I saved you.” The Void huskily whispers. “You would have died if not for my help, and my help does not come without cost.”

“Yeah, you did.” Narcissa responds, creeped out by the Witch. “And you’ve also been inside my mind ever since, taunting me.”

“A mere hex.” Gemini responds dismissively. “Now that you’ve found me, I’ll be glad to remove it. We have work to do.”

“We?”

Narcissa steps away, shaking her head.

“There is no ‘we’ here. Whatever you want from me, take it. I’m going to bring Zeus down, not participate in whatever devilry you’re conjuring.”

Gemini’s eyes squint into a glare, yet her lips retain her smile.

“Oh, I’ll take it. Don’t worry about that. You have one week to prepare all information you have on Zeus and his cronies.”

“Deal.” Narcissa snaps back. 

The Fashionista gets up in Gemini’s face, an assertive finger raised up to point.

“And don’t ever think you can just order me around. I don’t fuck with creepy people like you. Bitch, I’m fabulous, and you aren’t worth my time.”

Narcissa stalks off, still pissed but with new purpose.

Gemini chuckles, blowing a thin wisp of air out between her lips.

The candles go out.

Darkness.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “ONE MORE CHANCE”   [/edgtf_highlight]

Ringside.

In the middle of the ring to no fanfare or fuss, Felix Foley stands before us a humble man with a microphone. He looks around the adoring fans, showing a glimmer of a smile.

“Mr. Wolfe,” he pleads. “I know you’re in the back. Could you come out here, please? I really need to talk with you; just you and I.”

There’s a moment of silence.

A pause if you will.

Just then, Gunfight by Sick Puppies begins to play as Damien walks through the entrance to a chorus of boos. He stops before turning the corner, producing a microphone of his own as the music fades away.

“What do you want, Foley?” He asks, making his way up the steps onto the stage.

“I want you to reconsider the denial of my application,” he asks sincerely. “I know our first meeting didn’t go so well and I apologize, I really truly do.”

Damien rolls under the bottom rope and gets back to his feet, straightening out his suit.

“No!” He replies to boos from the crowd. “Men like you have no place educating the youth of our World. Arcadia will be better off without you.”

That statement brings tears to Foley’s eyes.

“P-Please,” he begs, tears streaming down his face. “The children are all I have. I must teach them. I must! Please just give me one more chance.”

“P.. P… Please,” Damien mocks, rubbing his eyes. “Pwease help me, Mister. Pwease. You’re a joke, Foley.”

Darkness.

Just then, smoke begins filling the arena, the entrance, and the stage. All we can see is darkness, and smoke floating around before us. The lights then begin flashing red.

All around us, red bursts.

Followed by a scream.

Static.

When the lights come back on, Damien Wolfe is unconscious in the middle of the ring and Felix Foley is stood across from him, his eyes widened with fear.

What the hell just happened?

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “HERO TO ZERO”   [/edgtf_highlight]

“Stubbins Doom! I’m here on behalf of the people of Arcadia to take you down!” The voice of Destructo Boy rings out through the Doom Factory, bouncing off of the glass bottles and machinery as he walks bravely into the lab. In the center of it sits Stubbins Doom, the Doctor watching as a drone with a broom attached begins to sweep the remnants of last week’s drones off of his floor.

“Oh no! The hero has returned! Whatever am I to do? Shall I call the daycare?” He barely seems to be paying attention to Destructo Boy, the hero angrily walking towards him with his Kingdomblade in hand ready to attack! But Doom simply snaps his fingers and a chain shoots from the ground and wraps around his ankle!

“Pity, that was supposed to wrap around your neck. Calibrations for later.” Doom stands up from his chair and walks towards Destructo Boy, tapping a few more buttons on his glove and watching as three more chains go out that snap shut on his other ankle and his wrists. “Thankfully I can aim those ones myself. Now, are you here to play hero again or are you going to apologize for impeding my progress?”

Destructo Boy fights against his restraints as Doom walks around him, looking him up and down before Destructo Boy can blurt out “I’m here to put a stop to you!” However, this merely gets a chuckle from Doom who stops in front of him.

“Stop me? Allow me to dumb down a simple math equation for you so that you can understand why you can never stop me.”

Destructo Boy looks on in confusion as Doom speaks, clearly unsure of exactly where this is going.

“What do you get when you take a Hero, divide by Stubbins Doom and subtract experience?”

“What?”

“Zero.”

DOOM TAZES DESTRUCTO BOY IN THE CHEST! JAMES FAITH JACKSON DROPS TO THE GROUND!

“Drones! Get this boy out of here. Then get me a coffee, room for cream.” Doom snaps his fingers as his drones do exactly that, Destructo Boy lifted out of the Doom Factory while Doom is handed a delicious freshly brewed coffee.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “EYES IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD”   [/edgtf_highlight]

After that incredible Tag Team Match, everyone has left the ring except Grimskull – who demands a microphone and rolls to the outside, standing on the edge of the stage. With thousands of fans looking at him, he finds himself in a position of comfort.

“Were you entertained?” He asks to a cheer from the crowd. “The bloodshed and the violence here in Arcadia is the ultimate endurance for our very freedom.”

The crowd seem to be listening.

“I talk about pain, not as if it’s the enemy, but as if it’s our greatest asset in the dream of being completely and utterly free,” he says powerfully. “If you were to follow me, you’d gain such enlightenment from what you perceive to hurt. There are many ways to gain freedom of your mind here in Arcadia, but none are like mine.”

WHAM!

Suddenly, a steel chair slams into the head of Grimskull from behind, sending him tumbling over the edge of the stage and into the crowd. The audience reach up, capturing his fallen body as we look to cloaked members of the Third Eye!

They now stand atop the stage, one with a steel chair in hand.

Vision is no-where to be seen, but the audience lower Grimskull to the ground, separating as if to give him some room. Numerous people begin kneeling in servitude around him, having just witnessed such a violent act.

The Third Eye storm away, tossing the steel chair down and heading out of the crowds eye before things turn nasty.

Cut.

[edgtf_highlight background_color=”#dddd80″ color=”#000000″]   “TICK, TICK… AUGE!”   [/edgtf_highlight]

With the Main Event over, Narcissa Balenciaga grabs her Double Feature Championship and drops to her knees in exhaustion.

However, within seconds, she’s not alone.

Because surrounding the ring, having stormed it from every direction at the Arcadia Police Department. Zeus and Ares soon make their way out from the entrance and up the stairs, watching as she carefully rolls to the outside and squeezes past the police.

They’re not here for her.

Jackson Cade rushes under the ring and carefully pulls something out – a bomb. A ticking device that strikes fear into the heart of everyone at ringside, As the fans quickly head towards the exit, Cade places the bomb down and grabs a pair of wire cutters, carefully cutting the red wire.

0:05.

0:04

0:03

He cuts the green wire.

Zap.

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of the relief, numerous members of the APD walking over to congratulate the young recruit on a successful deactivation. In the meantime, Zeus and Ares have entered the ring.

They’re here for a different reason.

With a nod in the direction of Mick Gordon, they watch as the Sheriff storms the ring surrounded by men, approaching one as he gets back to his feet, stopping him at his knees.

“Caesar XL,” Gordon says. “You’re under arrest.”

The ginormous mountain of a man looks absolutely flabbergasted. He looks around him, looking at the guns drawn and pointed in his direction. Zeus approaches, kneeling before him.

“You’re under arrest for terrorism against Olympus, against Arcadia and for plotting my assassination,” Zeus says angrily. Caesar frowns, but soon smiles. “You Uprising bastards will learn, one way or another.”

Just then, XL lunges forward, throwing Mick Gordon from him and snapping the handcuffs in one fell swoop.

He rushes towards Zeus…

HOSTILE DOWN!

HOSTILE DOWN!

SUPERKICK BY JACKSON CADE!

CADE DAMN NEAR TOOK HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!

As Caesar XL falls to the canvas with a giant thud, Cade is patted on the back by Zeus in a sign of respect for saving his ass. Ares, meanwhile, isn’t too impressed.

“Get this piece of shit down to interrogation,” Zeus demands of Gordon and the APD. “Let’s find out what he knows.”

As the APD pull an unconscious Caesar out of the ring, Jackson Cade shares a look with Ares, who grimaces.

Cut.