Category Archives: Post-Human Universe

Avengers: Endgame – Closing The Circle

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Talk about a cliffhanger. I posted a spoilers and speculation blog about Avengers: Infinity War way back in 2018, shortly before I took an unplanned three year break from blogging, and never followed it up. That’s like a Star Wars Original & Prequel Trilogy style gap.

But I still didn’t want to leave anyone, including myself, hanging. So, I’m writing this piece to close my own circle with some general thoughts about Avengers: Endgame, and what’s come in the Marvel Cinematic Universe since then. I made some predictions in that blog, and I’m happy to say that I was more right than wrong in my predictions.

Loki and Heimdall definitely died “for real” even though Loki is getting his own time travel-ly series out of it. All victim of The Snap returned, though that wasn’t exactly a long shot. I was right to assume Hawkeye wasn’t snapped, and that the original Avengers squad all survived for a reason – I was also right about the reason being to give them a proper curtain call. Doctor Strange’s apology to Tony Stark did end up being because Tony had to sacrifice his life to save the universe.

Steve Rogers bowed out with a happier ending than I’d suspected. Bucky Barnes likely isn’t the one carrying the Captain America shield forward, so I was wrong about that part. But he, and Sam Wilson, are working together to fill the void, so I was right about the group effort part. Black Widow died, but still has a solo movie coming out (some day) so I was about 50/50 on that projection. Thor is getting a fourth movie, as expected, and they’re keeping Hulk in their back pocket, likely to drop by on the She Hulk series.

As for the movie itself: I loved Avengers: Endgame, and I think the last hour or so of it is the most rewatchable MCU movie out there. The time travel trip down memory lane worked way better than it had any right to. Just the fact that they introduced time travel out of nowhere, and made it work, is a small miracle. Though my faith never really waivered in Kevin Feige and the MCU brain trust.

The Star Wars crew couldn’t even properly wrap up a trilogy with the disastrous Rise Of Skywalker. Meanwhile, Marvel capped out a 20+ movie arc in the most entertaining and satisfying manner possible. Both of these are under Disney’s banner now, but you can see a stark difference in the way they’ve been handled.

I think Marvel has had a looser leash, which worked out for them Meanwhile, they course-corrected Star Wars on-the-fly, likely with a Bible full of studio notes, which ended up being a problem. But, if The Mandalorian is a sign of things to come, and it appears that it is, then Star Wars may soon be rising to Marvel’s standards. Imagine saying THAT twenty years ago.

Now, for how things are looking in a Post Infinity Saga universe.

Spider-Man: Far From Home was the only post-Endgame MCU release so far, even though Black Widow was scheduled to drop a year ago, before the pandemic effed up everyone’s lives for most of the past twelve months. Far From Home was a lot of fun, and a good demonstration of how well Marvel Studios can get themselves back into the flow of smaller, non-universe destroying crossover films. It was very encouraging.

No one has seen Black Widow yet, as I noted above. But I’ll definitely check it out when – and where – I can.

WandaVision is really interesting. I’ll probably post a review of it once the season concludes, since I don’t want to fully judge it without having seen the entire run. It’s pulled the rug out from under the viewers several times already, so I’ll gather up my thoughts about it when standing on more solid ground.

The Falcon & The Winter Solider is coming later this month, and I’m very much looking forward to more of the love-hate-buddy-cop action that those two characters have only been able to hint at up to this point. I’ll probably write that review up after the season (series?) concludes as well.

Loki is up after that in May. Lots of timey-wimey stuff going on there, starting with Loki being not-dead in the first place. But the character is always fun, and time travel worked out nicely in Endgame, so let it ride!

She-Hulk, Moon Knight, Ms. Marvel, Ironheart, and Secret Invasion have all been announced as Disney+ series, and some interesting casting news has come out already. But, it’s also far too early for me to have any real insights.

I’ll judge The Eternals when I know more about it, but I’m not familiar with the title at all, so I won’t make any assumptions yet. But I did watch Nomadland, which was also directed by recent Golden Globe Winner Chloe Zhao. I didn’t exactly know how to feel about the point-of-view in Nomadland, which I think was the point. It was a beautiful-looking film though, that’s for certain, so that’s hooked my interest in Eternals.

Doctor Strange In The Multiverse Of Madness is next up. It’s being directed by Sam Raimi, which sounds incredible. All we know so far is the title and director. But I’m loving the title and the director. It’s still in the early stages of shooting, but I’m fully on-board already. I can’t wait to further examine the mystical corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Or, Marvel Cinematic Multiverse, I suppose). I really enjoyed the back-half of Doctor Strange’s solo movie, and loved his few scenes in Thor: Ragnarok. Picking up where those left off seems pretty awesome to me.

Spider-Man: No Way Home appears set to tackle the multiverse as well, which should be fun. Into The Spider-Verse may have already done this about as well as you possibly can. But the MCU has the bonus draw of bringing in actors and characters from the previous iterations of the Spider-Man film franchise. If nothing else, that should be good to pop the crowd a few times.

Thor: Love & Thunder is deep into shooting, with Taika Waititi again at the helm. Much like Doctor Strange’s new movie, the title and director are more-than-enough to get me into a theater. Plus, Thor: Ragnarok was probably the most fun MCU movie to date, so I’m all-in for more of that vibe.

Captain Marvel 2 and Black Panther 2 are also on-deck. But the former has just started casting, and the latter is trying to figure out how best to address the tragic loss of Chadwick Boseman. Either way, it’s far too early to make any assumptions about either.

I’m happy to finally put a bow on my Infinity War cliffhanger, and can’t wait to share my thoughts about all the interesting stuff that’s coming up in the future.

Archangel’s Descent

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NOW

I

Another dark night. Another abandoned warehouse. Another crew of drug dealers who need to be dealt with. In some ways it’s like a recurring nightmare, or an infinite loop that I’m caught in.

Sometimes I wish I could break free, move on to another city, another country, another world. Someplace where I can leave the weight of Stonebridge City far behind, no longer hoisting it up on my shoulders until it feels like my spine is compressing. Crushing each vertebra into powder until only dust remains beneath my flesh.

But Stonebridge City is my city. That was a decision I made long ago. My carrying of this city is the only thing that keeps it from falling into the abyss, and crashing at the bottom of the fathomless pit below.

That is why I find myself once again speeding through the void of this never-ending night on a motorcycle custom-built for silence and stealth.

Some believe me to be a ghost cloaked in blackness, invisible as it rides amongst the other shadows. But those who contemplate me with fear do so with good reason. The criminal element will always fear the unknown, since those who feed on the fear of others are the ones more likely to be devoured by their own.

And so, they anticipate that whomever, or whatever, lurks in the ether hunts them with the same ruthless intentions that drive their own actions. I may be out here seeking the worst of humanity, but my reason for being out here is not these dregs.

It is the others that I am out here for. The victims. The innocents. The people trying their best to find a glimmer of hope and kindness in an otherwise cruel and hopeless world.

They don’t see me as a ghost, but as a guardian angel. A warrior who is willing to fight an unending war to keep them safe, because he is the only one who can. That’s why those people long ago named me Archangel.

But, if these people knew exactly why I was on this pier going to this warehouse tonight, they might call me by a different name.

“Mr. Angel,” I’m greeted by Chaz as I enter the warehouse. The shaking in his voice is already prevalent, though he’s trying to hide it. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

“I can tell,” I say to him, looking past his shoulder and into the office where I see who I’m looking for.

Chaz is trying to get a read on my expression, which isn’t easy to do since only my mouth and chin are exposed from beneath the helmet. He’s trying to look into my eyes just as hard as he’s trying not to. But the lenses are white-tinted, so he can’t see anything other than his own fearful reflection in them – which is exactly the point of their design.

“What I mean is…we can explain,” Chaz continued, now clearly rattled.

“We?” I ask, still looking through the window to the office.

“Well,” he backtracks, “Donnie can explain.”

“Good,” I tilt my head away from the children in the office, and at Chaz. “Because he’s going to have to.”

There are eight kids in all. The oldest among them is no more than twelve years old, the youngest looks to be nine or ten. Some are trying to make their best grown-up poses as they speak, no doubt emulating the dealers who recruited them. What they’re actually discussing is not important, so I don’t bother enhancing the volume in my earpieces.

The younger ones aren’t even trying to posture. They just look confused, and nervous about what they may be asked to do once they’re trained to run the products, and the cash drops from corner to corner. Two of them are even wearing sweaters with a picture of some cartoon dogs from a kids’ show.

They went from watching cartoons this morning to being coerced into the drug trade this evening. I’ll bet their parents think each of them are playing at a different one’s house right now. Pretend adventurers, real life drug couriers.

I take a moment to compose myself before addressing Chaz again.

“Where’s Donnie?” I ask.

“Out on the dock, Mr. Angel, sir,” he quickly replies.

“Is he alone?” I continue.

“No, sir. He’s got five or six of the boys with them.”

“Packing?”

“Automatics.”

I offer no more than a grunt, before running my thumb over the handle of one of the throwing knives in the crisscrossing bandoliers strapped across my chest. I then nod towards the table at the center of the room that’s littered with narcotics, and high stacks of money.

“Give each of those kids a brick of cash, and send them home,” I tell Chaz. “And make sure they know that, if they if they end up on the street slingin’ this shit, they’re going to have to deal with me. You got all that?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Angel, sir!” he blurts.

“When they’re gone, come and meet us on the dock.”

He scrambles over to the table, and starts gathering up cash in his arms. I walk past him, through the length of the warehouse, and emerge at the docks on the other side.

I can see the lights of the city across the river sparkling through the clear night sky. The skyline is beautiful from afar, but its murky reflection in the inky black water of the river presents a more accurate likeness of Stonebridge City’s true self: Superficially beautiful and outwardly thriving, but with a dark, beating heart beneath the black mirror surface.

Still, that’s a damn sight better than it was before I returned.

Chaz’ count was right, Donnie is standing at the center of five of his most trusted soldiers. Each one has a machine gun strapped across his chest except for the man himself. He invested in a chrome-plated .357 revolver to serve as a badge flaunting his rank.

Of course, you can only see the pearl handle grip, and the shining hammer sticking up from the front of his jeans. I should have known better than to place a man who wears his authority so poorly in a position of power.

Whatever happens here in the next three minutes tonight is on my shoulders. But why should this be any different than anything else in this city?

“Mr. Angel,” Donnie greets me with a self-satisfied smile. “What brings you here tonight?”

“I heard a rumor about you involving some kids, that couldn’t possibly be true. Not after the last conversation we had on the topic,” I reply.  “There’s no way Donnie could be that stupid, I thought. That careless. But then I dropped by to check it out anyway, and imagine my surprise.”

I finally stop walking towards the group when I’m no more than two feet away from the nearest gunman. It doesn’t take more than a shift in my posture for the lackeys to all clear out the space between myself and Donnie.

“To say nothing of the new gear for your boys,” I make a show of looking at each machine gun. “I thought you understood the rules, Donnie. My rules.”

“Of course I understand the rules, Mr. A,” he offers casually, I offer a frown in-response, and he changes his tone “Mr. Angel, I mean. But we were starting to catch some serious heat. Riley’s got the pigs all tuned up, and looking to rock.”

“If the police are closing in on you, then you simply need to be smarter,” I state.

“That why I brought in the youth movement,” he says, as if he feels that was the obvious answer. “The kids transport the merchandise, and the cash, from our buyers and clients. If they get caught, no one does any time other than in juvie, and my crew stays intact.”

“Yes, I know how it works,” I say with a smile that blocks my snarl. “That’s beside the point. The point is that this is my city. We’re in agreement about that, aren’t we?” Donnie nods. “Good. And in my city you follow my rules. Is that equally as clear?”

“Mr. A…” the crew can see my jaw muscles tighten, causing them each to take another step back. “Mr. Angel…”

Without another word I move in closer to him. He doesn’t flinch, which is a bad sign for how I was hoping this would play out.

“I’m trying to make you some money here,” he disputes, his fingers almost subconsciously moving towards the handle of his pistol. “I’m trying to make us all some money!”

“I run the entire drug trade in this city. You work for the man who runs the entire drug trade in this city. Do you think we’re hurting for money?” I growl.

“Man, there’s always more money to make,” Donnie argues.

“We make as much money as my rules allow us to,” I tell him.

“And what about my boys getting busted?” he asks, his fingers twitching around his waistband.

“If you, or your boys, are incapable of doing this job the right way, then you need to find another line of work,” I explain.

He starts to talk again before I cut him off: “But you don’t need to worry about getting arrested anymore, Donnie. See, I gave you a choice last time you tried to bring kids into my business. Leave town, or follow my rules. You chose the latter, and I gave you a second chance. I don’t do third chances.”

“You sayin’ there’s no choice this time?” Donnie says with as much swagger as he can muster.

“There’s always a choice,” I correct him. “But there are different options this time. Option one: You walk down to the nearest precinct, turn yourself in, offer a full confession, and do your time.”

“What’s option two?” he asks, now opening and closing his hand over the .357.

“You don’t want to choose option two,” I tell him straight.

“I ain’t going back to jail, Mr. A,” he says, making a show of not correcting himself this time.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Donnie,” I offer him one last out. “Take the walk, do the time. It’s the only time you’re going to get tonight.”

His breathing has picked up, and his eyes are bulging slightly. He’s scared, but still thinks he has a chance. I wish he was smarter than this, but I’m not surprised that he isn’t.

The throwing knife is out of my hand before he even fully pulls the cannon out of his waistband. I spin it with enough velocity to punch deep through his eye socket, and into his brain.

He’s falling backwards even as he fires his round so far off the mark that I don’t even need to shift my stance to avoid it.

I take note of the gunmen on either side of me. None of them have moved, so I guess they’re all wiser than Donnie. From the corner of my eye I see Chaz standing next to the last goon in line.

“Guns on the ground,” I say, without moving.

Each man in-turn lifts the strap over his head, and places the heavy artillery on the ground.

“Chaz,” I say, turning towards him. “What are my rules?”

“No victims, no violence,” he recites automatically.

“And using children as couriers?” I ask.

“Makes them victims,” Chaz says.

“And carrying machine guns?”

“Invites violence, and risks creating more victims.”

“Congratulations, Chaz,” I say, walking closer to him. “You’re now the boss of this crew.”

“Thank you Mr. Angel, I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Gentlemen,” I say to the rest of the crew as I walk over to Donnie’s body.

The back of his head is lifted off the pavement as I pull at the knife blade. Once the blade is fully removed, his head drops again with a thud. I make a show of wiping the blood off the blade, and onto Donnie’s clothes, making sure the others notice.

 “Take care of this,” I nod towards Donnie’s body, and then gesture for Chaz to follow me back towards the warehouse as the others move in on Donnie. “Donnie’s only family was his mother, right?”

“Yes, sir,” he says. “She’s an invalid, can’t really support herself.”

“Bring her half of Donnie’s share every month,” I tell him. “Keep the other half for yourself. Consider it a raise to go along with your promotion.”

“That’s too generous, sir,” Chaz says.

“That’s just business,” I reply, as my stealth cycle is now in-sight.

“Mr. Angel, what do I tell Donnie’s mom if she asks about him?”

“Tell her the truth,” I say, mounting the bike. “The heat got to him, so he had to go. Anything else?”

“No, sir. I can take it from here.”

“Good. Once Donnie is recycled, tell the crew to take the rest of the night off.”

With that, I ride silently back into the city, for it cannot survive without its dark, beating heart.

Besides, I’ve still got a busy night ahead of me.

FIVE YEARS AGO

I

Off to a pretty damn good start, if I may say so myself.

Good thing too, I’d hate to think I’d wasted half my life training for this, only to blow it right out of the gate. Thus far, that has not been a problem.

After getting back to Stonebridge City a few weeks ago, I was able to find my way back to that decommissioned subway station I’d stumbled upon before I’d left.

Jesus, was that really a dozen years ago? I can’t tell if it feels like a lot more, or a lot less. I suppose it really feels more like returning to a world that I’d left that now feels both alien, and familiar.

Familiar in that everything is the same as when I left. Every street turns into the same corner, and every person moves with the same casual cautiousness that comes with knowing you’re not exactly safe but believing that – since you understand the fear – you can protect yourself from the looming danger.

Yet it’s alien in that I feel like I’m viewing this city with different eyes. All that time I spent with South American paramilitary groups, bleeding edge weapons designers in Europe, and that ninja clan in Japan provided me with new filters through which to see the world.

Looking out at Stonebridge City now, I can see dangerous situations unfurl before they even begin. I can tell the difference between the predators and the prey just by the way they carry themselves. I understand what movements are coming, and which counter-moves I’ll need to make in order to resolve the situation before the first strike is even attempted.

Although, that last belief needed to be tested before I would truly buy-in. I got my first opportunity on Saturday night. It was as good a night as any, since people were out and about late at night, while the wolves in the shadows waited for the calves to wander from the herd.

I moved with the flow of humanity from rooftop- to-rooftop. The architecture in this city was constructed with many building in such close proximity so they could squeeze every last drop of real estate from it. As such, a simple leap is usually enough to cover the space between roofs over a majority of downtown, and midtown.

I found more uses for the grapnel hook gun when I got uptown. Small enough to fit in a holster on my right thigh, but loaded with a tightly coiled, high tension wire that could carry more than twice my weight if the need should arise.

The firing mechanism is designed to be silent, but can easily launch the hook across the width of any of Stonebridge’s main avenues, and embed itself into a brick building on the other side.

Admittedly, I was nervous to try it in the field for the first time, but I knew I had to be able to trust my gear as much as I trust my own skills if I’m going to survive in this life long enough to make a difference.

That being said, it was still exhilarating to swing across those canyons of the city. I imagine the sensation I felt was much the same as a Post-Human feels when first taking flight.

But I quickly moved past that thrill, because I didn’t come back here seeking thrills. I came back here to help people, and to bring justice to those who’ve escaped it. I came back here to save lives. To save this city.

The dark streets below, lightly traversed, made this feel like the place to start. I always remembered hearing horror stories about the careless souls who wandered uptown, walked down the wrong street, and were devoured by the night.

So, I knelt on the ledge, switched the lenses in my helmet to night vision, and adjusted the levels in my earpieces to minimize ambient noise and maximize human voices.

I pick up bits and pieces from conversations happening on the top four floors of the building. Couples arguing about bills, and drunks blabbering about how the world screwed them over are the loudest, and the first that I hear.

I also hear the laughter between friends or family members enjoying the evening together. They’re sharing stories, and memories, and stories that they try to pass off as memories since the truth has been lost to the past.

But this is not what I’m listening for tonight. I adjust the balance levels further with the touchpad controls under the gauntlet on my left forearm.

There’s a different quality, a different vibration that comes from a voice echoing off the walls of the alleys below. These are what I’m listening for. The people in the labyrinth below who are unexpectedly nearing the Minotaur in the center of it.

“Leave her alone!” echoes from below.

“Naw, we’re gonna show her what it’s like to have real men givin’ it to her.”

I can hear the impact of the butt of a pistol cracked on the back of a head. And then a woman’s screams.

I’m across the rooftop, and making a few quick configuration changes to my grapnel gun in a heartbeat. I hook it onto the inside of the ledge, click it into place on the harness at my belt buckle, and then rappel down the side of the building.

The descent feels like a freefall, but I never lose control of it. The two attackers are standing over another man, who’s curled up in a fetal position. The girl is trapped with a ten-foot-high fence behind her, and two thugs standing between her and the entrance to the alley.

I touch down on the ground silently, and release the harness. The men haven’t seen me yet, but the girl has. She looks past them, between them, and views me with a mixture of uncertainty, hope, and fear.

“That’s alright, mama,” one of the men says leeringly. “You don’t have to look at us, as long as you feel us.”

“Feel this,” I say, now within arm’s reach of them.

“Who the f…” the one with the gun turns toward me enough for me to grab, and twist his wrist; wrenching the pistol from his grip.

While his mouth is still open in mid-scream, I crack him across the cheekbone with a pistol whip. He drops to his knees from that blow, giving me room to swing a forward roundhouse kick over his head, blasting his partner’s nose into five pieces with it.

Both are bleeding on the ground, but not yet unconscious. That’s easily corrected with a pair of quick elbows into the base of their skulls. I break out a pair of zip-ties from a pouch on my left thigh, and bind their hands behind their backs.

The girl’s kneeling beside the beaten man and asking him if he’s alright, while I fasten myself once again to the grapnel gun.

“Who are you?” she asks me from the ground. “Are you one of them? A superhero?”

“I’m just someone who wants to help. Call 9-1-1 and find a safe place nearby to wait for the police to arrive,” I say, before triggering the recoil, and ascending back to the rooftop.

Download your copy of Archangel’s Descent for Kindle today!

Superheroes Now Super Available

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Hey All,

Figured I ought to let anyone who drops by know that DarkLight Redemption is now available to purchase in paperback & on Kindle.

You can also borrow it from you local cyber library if you have a Kindle Unlimited Membership, or take a moment to enter the Goodreads Giveaway contest!

Post-Human Universe: Origins

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I posted a blog on the inspirations for the titular character of DarkLight Redemption a few days ago, so today I’ll be discussing a bit about the origins of the Post-Human Universe as a whole.

I love comics and have for most of my life, which is why I-  like many geeks – often daydreamed about writing the adventures of Batman, Spider-Man, Superman, Captain America, X-Men, Justice League and all the usual suspects. Also, like most people, I didn’t exactly have the DC or Marvel people knocking down my front door asking me to write for them. So I ultimately had to create my own sandbox to play in.

The Post-Human Universe is called so because, while the Post-Humans are at the center of it,  the story expands beyond just the Earth. Post-Humans are, simply put, people who have gained extraordinary powers. However, in DarkLight Redemption, I reference aliens from other worlds and even other dimensions. The Universe title is also a tip of the cap to the similarly named Marvel Universe and DC Universe.

As far as the story mechanisms goes, most comic stories are told from the first person perspectives of the title characters. Which is why I wrote DarkLight Redemption from that perspective, and intend to write my future Post-Human novels from it as well. They may not always be narrated by DarkLight himself, but they will all be told in the same manner. Another advantage of the first person narrative is that it plunges you directly into the world around that character with an immediacy that pulls the reader right in.

Tying the reader to a single character is also a good way to avoid several dozen, or hundred, pages of exposition. That’s especially useful here, since this story kicks in twenty years or so after the universe has already been changed in the Post-Human era.  DarkLight himself is also a character who has spent years in a world that may otherwise seem strange to the reader, and so he’s a good guide for the journey.

I pulled some general story and tonal pointers from sources ranging all the way from Watchmen to The Venture Bros. Both of the aforementioned stories, wildly different as they may be, take place in extraordinary worlds made more relatable by the narrators who have lived in them for a while. Watchmen references a history of its world in smaller chunks, which works for the sort of story I was telling as well. And Venture Bros has fun with a world of super people and, while I didn’t quite go as far into the realm of parody, I wanted to keep things light for the most part.

You may notice that this novel is referred to as Book One in the Post-Human Universe. Don’t be scared off by that. I have plans to write several more novels in this series, but each one will stand primarily on its own merits – much like my Venator Series. Believe me, you won’t be waiting years for a conclusion to any of these stories.

If you’ve read this, and you’re interested in checking out DarkLight Redemption, then you should visit Goodreads and enter for a chance to win a copy of the novel. Of course, you always have the option to just buy the novel and leave nothing to chance. Either way, I do hope you decide to give it a shot.

DarkLight: Origins

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Since I’ve just published my fourth novel, DarkLight Redemption, I feel like it’s a good time to discuss a bit about the origins and influences of DarkLight  the character.

I’m a big comic book geek, and have been for a very long time. I love the larger than life action, the colorful costumes, the different spins they put on archetypal characters, really the whole shebang. Perhaps my favorite story trope is the loyal sidekick learning alongside the great hero and being groomed to one day replace him. Something about the idea of such a legacy always appealed to me.

The most famous example of this is Batman & Robin…well, Robins. Dick Grayson was the first Robin, and generally came across as a lot less intense and more personable that Bruce Wayne’s Batman. And while the idea of following around a superhero and learning from him is cool, my greater interest was in the idea that one day Dick Grayson would need to replace Bruce Wayne under the cowl. The idea of such a responsibility is very daunting to Grayson, but he also understands that Bruce will die someday, and he will be the only one who is truly able to step up.

Of course, DC Comics was in no rush to make drastic changes to their most popular character, but they also felt it was a bit odd that Grayson never got any older. So the idea was cooked up to re-brand an older, more mature Dick Grayson as Nightwing. I was fascinated with the notion of allowing a major recurring character to evolve, which is probably why Nightwing became my favorite superhero. He was a guy in his late teens-early twenties who was trying to carve out his own place in the world, while still understanding his place in the line of succession of Batman.

Other former sidekicks got “called up” before Nightwing, most notably his best friend Wally West/Kid Flash who became The Flash once Barry Allen was killed off in Crisis On Infinite Earths. But, eventually, Grayson got his chance to assume the role of Batman in the Batman Reborn storyline after the death of Bruce Wayne in Final Crisis.

A few years before that, however, the character who replaced Grayson as Robin- only to be killed off by The Joker– returned. Jason Todd came back from the dead (the how and why is better left untouched in this limited space) and took up the name Red Hood. He was more of an anti-hero than straight up villain who used the type of lethal force more akin to Marvel’s Punisher than Batman.

Speaking of Marvel, they had a similar story arc at around the same time where former Captain America sidekick Bucky Barnes came back as The Winter Soldier. Both of these characters became major parts of the ongoing adventures of Batman and Captain America. In fact, much like Dick Grayson becoming Batman, Barnes ended up carrying the shield as Captain America after Steve Rogers was killed off.

This is where I’m going to begin to tie everything to DarkLight Redemption. Character-wise, DarkLight is most similar to Dick Grayson. I even pay homage to the period in his run as Robin/Nightwing, when he led the Teen Titan (later known just as Team Titans and then just Titans) which was the inspiration for Varsity Squad in my book. But DarkLight’s character arc resides somewhere between Grayson and Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes, in that he does reluctantly become a supervillain. I’ll leave the specifics of that to be discovered by those who read the book.

There are also, of course, real world inspirations for DarkLight. I believe anyone who had been through – or is currently in – their twenties can relate to the idea of feeling as though they are at a crossroads in their lives. There are many paths that can be followed, and every decision you make leads you farther down one or another.

The sense of trying to make one’s parents, or parental figures, proud while still trying to blaze your own trail is one that I’m sure also strikes a chord in many of us. The legacy they are faced with living up to is far more dramatic that the one that most of us in the real world face, but the idea is the same. Maybe that, more than anything else, is why drew me to the Nightwings, Red Hoods and Winter Soldiers of the comic book universe.

Speaking of universes, I’ll probably be writing something up regarding the influences for the Post-Human Universe at large soon as well. Until I do, feel free to get started on DarkLight Redemption today! You can purchase the book in paperback, or follow me on Wattpad where I’ll be posting chapters weekly.

DarkLight Redemption – Chapter Eight

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So this will be the final chapter of DarkLight Redemption that I’ll be posting here on my blog. The full novel will be available very soon, and you can count on me posting here when that happens.

I will continue to post chapter on my Wattpad page until the novel is complete.

EIGHT

 

 

As much as it pains me to admit it, Elizabeth Stokes was right: The Elemental Executioners had done a job for Weston, and when they came to collect their fees and found out that he was gone, they turned on each other quicker than starving hyenas.

The way I see it, if a tight unit like that can turn on each other so quickly without Weston holding their leashes, then this is a much bigger problem than I’d anticipated.

Which means that I find myself reluctantly flying back to Weston Tower to admit that Elizabeth was right. I’m looking forward to that about as much as getting teeth pulled. As an added concern, I seem to have picked up a stalker.

I thanked Dominatrix, as is proper etiquette when one saves your life, and then took off on my way. I’d expected her to take that as a signal to be on her way, but once again, I was wrong.

I’ve flown around the city twice already, hoping to politely shake her, but she’s kept pace. She keeps asking questions, which I naturally ignore. But not getting a response to one question doesn’t seem to deter her from asking another. And another.

“So where does your power come from? Inner willpower? Radiation from the yellow sun?” She runs down a number of other possible origins before moving on. “I was born with mine. Which was pretty weird. But also pretty cool,” she continues, making me wonder why she didn’t name herself Chatterbox instead of Dominatrix.

“Look, Dominatrix,” I turn toward her, and float backwards for a bit, “I really do appreciate your help, but…”

“Olive!” she calls back excitedly.

“What?”

“My name is Olive,” she replies with a polite smile that looks wholly out of place when surrounded by black leather.

“Okay, Olive, first: You shouldn’t go around telling people your real name,” I say matter-of-factly, “Defeats the purpose of the mask. Secondly: I’m on my way to handle some important business. So I have to say goodbye,” I finish.

“What important business?” she asks, her excitement ramping up again.

“It doesn’t concern you.” I’m irritated, but her vibe is somewhat endearing.

“But I can help!” she offers. “Like I helped back there with the Element Guys!”

“Elemental Executioners,” I correct her. “How long have you been doing this again?”

“I’m still learning the business, and I know you’ve been in it for a while,” she states. “So I was hoping to…y’know…hang with you for a bit.”

I’m getting the sense that shaking her is a lost cause. So I try a different route.

“Okay, Dominatrix….”

“Olive!”

“Trust me, when you’re wearing the mask, you’ll want to stick with codenames,” I explain. “I’m going to see Elizabeth Stokes. She’s got a job that I need to handle.”

“That’s funny. When I asked her about you yesterday, she told me your contract expired.”

“This is a different kind of job,” I clarify. “So if you want to tag along, be my guest.”

She zooms closer to me and stops right at my side. I can make out her emerald green eyes through the mask now. I search the rest of her rounded, pale-ish face, and long straight black hair, but I’m still unable to put my finger on where I know her from.

We coast the rest of the way side by side and land a block away from Weston Tower. The heat’s on after the mess the Elemental Executioners made, so we use one of the secret underground entrances. It’s a converted length of sewer that leads directly to the  basement of Weston Tower.

As the elevator arrives at Weston’s office, the doors open to reveal a smug Elizabeth with an I-told- you-so look on her face.

I’d love nothing better than to flip her off and step right back into the elevator, but there’s too much at stake. So I lead Dominatrix to Elizabeth in a whipped-dog posture.

“Ah, dear Thomas, how lovely to see you again so soon,” Elizabeth purrs.

“Thomas?” Dominatrix jumps in. “Your name’s Thomas?”

“Do you mind?” I ask Elizabeth, ignoring Dominatrix. “I’m trying to maintain a secret identity here.”

“Or do you prefer to go by Tommy?” Dominatrix asks from behind me.

“Apologies,” Elizabeth says without the least bit of an apologetic tone. “After seeing you two on the news, I assumed that you were partnering up now.”

“We’re not,” I correct her and look at Dominatrix over my shoulder.

“Tom-Tom!” she exclaims with a smile.

“Just Tom. Aw hell,” I say, finally turning to face her while I pull off my mask. “Not like this is doing any good here.”

“Thank God!” Dominatrix gasps. “This thing gets soooo uncomfortable sometimes.”

She slides off her mask and pulls off what turns out to be a black wig. She shakes out her short, red hair, and I finally realize who she is.

“Hey, you’re the cute girl from yesterday!” I blurt out.

“You think I’m cute?” she smiles and bats her eyelashes at me.

“No!” I say with a little too much emphasis. “Well, yes, but that’s not…” I take a breath and turn back to Elizabeth. “You were right,” I tell her. The words leave a bad taste in my mouth. “We need to find Weston.”

“Of course I was right,” Elizabeth replies without missing a beat. “But you may have had a point as well. Perhaps it would be best if I do not send you out there. At least not alone.”

“Who’d you have in mind?” I ask. “And don’t say Blynk or Mimic because even I don’t trust them, so there’s no way my old buddies on the right side of the law are going to.”

She doesn’t say a word; she just looks past my shoulder at Dominatrix.

“Who? Me?” she asks, just before a tomboyish chuckle escapes from her. “Niiice!”

“No way,” I immediately argue. “She doesn’t have the experience.”

“She saved your life not fifteen minutes ago,” Elizabeth reminds me.

“The hero types aren’t gonna want to have anything to do with her,” I continue to argue my case.

“As you said, she is new,” Elizabeth reminds me. “It should be quite easy for you to convince them that she’s unsure of her place in the world. You know how those do-gooders adore having the chance to redeem one of us.”

“Oh, I could totally play that up!” Dominatrix interjects, furrowing her eyebrows, “Yeah, I’ve done some bad stuff, but sometimes I have trouble looking at myself in the mirror,” she says with an overdone frown.

Elizabeth and I look at her with a shared curiosity for a few seconds before she breaks into a smile.

“Pretty good, right?”

I tilt my head at her, and then turn back at Elizabeth.

“You will be doing most of the talking anyway,” Elizabeth tells me.

“Fine,” I surrender. “I just need to change first.”

“I get it,” Dominatrix says with a wink. “You’ve gotta stop by your secret lair, right?”

“Yeah,” I answer as the image of my unmade bed and stack of dirty dishes in the sink flash into my mind. “I suppose you could call it that. Meet me at the top of the Empire State Building in twenty minutes.”

“I like it,” Dominatrix nods and puts her wig and mask back on. “Dramatic! Sexy!”

“Convenient,” I add. “It’s the most recognizable building in the city, and I figure you’re new in town.”

“How’d you guess that?” Dominatrix asks as she straightens her wig.

“I know that you have no wish to team up with Blynk and Mimic,” Elizabeth says, before I can brag about my above-average powers of deduction. “But they would be a good place to start. They handled a few other recent jobs for Mr. Weston, so they may have a greater understanding of what he was working on.”

“You mean you don’t?” I ask with genuine surprise.

“Mr. Weston, like all powerful men, does keep his share of secrets,” she says with a bit of hurt in her voice. “Even from his most trusted confidants.”

“Sure,” I say as I pull my own mask back on, “We’ll let you know when we find something.”

DarkLight Redemption – Chapter Seven

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SEVEN

 

 

Okay, so I may have been exaggerating when I told Elizabeth Stokes that the world was better off without Weston. I’m no fool — I know he plays a big part in every aspect of human/Post-Human relations.

That being said, he’s still a really bad guy, and he’d have to be removed from the outside world sooner or later. Weston is a criminal, and he belongs in prison — and yes, I understand how hypocritical that may sound coming from the guy who hijacked a military convoy yesterday.

Truth is, my bigger concern is not him being gone — it’s that someone made him gone. Weston’s got contingency plans for his contingency plans, and he’s got an army of Post-Humans at his beck and call. So anyone who got to him is someone who needs to be feared.

However, that doesn’t change my position that I’m not the right person to go snooping around for him. Yes, it would be different if it were Charles or one of my old teammates with Varsity Squad who’d gone missing. Those are people that I’d be willing to put my life on the line for, even if they hate me these days.

But I’m sure as hell not strolling into every lion’s den I can find to figure out where the world’s most nefarious string-puller has vanished to.

Elizabeth’s worried about everything falling apart, but Rome didn’t collapse in a day. I’d say it’s a safe bet that things will get sorted out before panic engulfs the streets.

I’m about to hop on the subway and head home to make up for last night’s lost sleep when I hear it: crunching metal and shattering glass from about a block away.

I’m figuring that it may just be a car accident when I see a giant ogre made of water towering over the top of the café on the corner. There are a few people who can control water like that, and none of them are on the side of the angels.

I remind myself that I’m retired just before I hear the screams. This isn’t just a heist — people are getting hurt, and I know I can’t just walk away.

My full costume would be extremely cumbersome to wear under my civvies, but I do always keep my mask with me. It’s tucked into one pocket or another; today I pull it out of my inside jacket pocket.

Back when I was LightBlast, I’d do this in case I need to spring into action at a moment’s notice. As DarkLight, I did it in case I needed to make a quick escape. Now as neither, I guess I’m regressing a bit to the former. I pull the mask on, light up and fly up over the café to get a better look.

It’s worse than I thought. The hydromancer is one of the Elemental Executioners. They’re a foursome, each one with control over a different element: water, wind, fire and earth. They can always be found working together, usually under Weston’s orders, but that’s not what I find.

Water Executioner is using his ogre construct to attack Earth Executioner, who uses his power to catapult a car at Wind Executioner, which was the crash I heard. Fire Executioner seems to be trying to play peacekeeper, but to little avail.

“Stop this!” Fire-Ex calls out to all of them. “You’re acting like maniacs!”

“What’d you call me?” Wind-Ex (not to be confused with the cleaning product) growls back.

“Since when did either of you become the boss?” Earth-Ex jumps in. “Neither of you are the boss! The boss is gone.”

“And you’re next!” Water-Ex yells as his ogre drives its fist down onto Earth-Ex.

There are two big problems I see here. The first is that these four guys are generally thick as thieves. Actually being thieves, this makes them very good at their jobs. The other, bigger problem is that this street is teeming with people who are now screaming and trying to escape with their lives.

I’m planning my first move, and it needs to be a good one since I’ve only ever taken on these guys when I’ve had back-up of my own. But, like I’m sure someone has said before, planning is what you do while innocent people suffer. And that’s what I’m faced with here.

In a matter of moments, Fire-Ex sends a flame tornado at Water-Ex, only to have it intercepted by Wind-Ex redirecting the fire at Earth-Ex. Earth-Ex uses his power to pull up an eight-foot length of sidewalk, which deflects the flame tornado. But as the cyclone disperses, the redirected flames set the nearest building on fire.

I can see the whites of the eyes of the people in the building, and I know that my first priority is their safety. I form an energy sphere around the flaming wall and squeeze it down until the oxygen is gone and the fire is extinguished.

By the time I try to make my move on the Executioners, the length of sidewalk that Earth-Ex pulled up has been thrown at Wind-Ex. Wind-Ex managed to slow the launched cement at him enough to get out of the way… only to be clobbered from behind by Water-Ex’s ogre.

I’ve now completely lost track of who’s fighting whom, and it just looks like it’s become a four-way death match. The length of sidewalk is about to crush a pair of young girls before I use extensions of my energy field as arms and pull them to safety.

I can’t just sit here trying to do damage control because I know that sooner or later, it won’t be enough. I need to draw the fight to me and try to get it away from the people on the street.

With two open palms, I fire four energy blasts, one for each Executioner. It’s a cheap shot, albeit a satisfying one, that knocks them all on their asses. Water-Ex’s ogre collapses, drenching them all. They look up at me with fury in their eyes.

“Alright, boys,” I say, pumping up my force field. “That’s enough rough-housing. Time to go sit in the corner for a few.”

“Son of a bitch!” Earth-Ex snarls at me. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“I don’t see any other energy-slingin’ superguy here, do you?” I retort.

“You took him!” Water-Ex follows, ignoring my jab. “I knew we couldn’t trust you!”

“Took who?” I ask just as the ledge of the roof behind me slams into my back.

The force field took most of it, but I still find myself landing face-down on the street. Stupid. I didn’t mind my surroundings, and now this fight’s gonna go down right here. I look up long enough to notice most of the people have fled the scene, so at least I bought them some time.

The water spraying from the nearest fire hydrant now looms over me in the shape of a giant snake. I send an energy blast through its face and manage to hit Wind-Ex, who was hovering in the air behind it. He couldn’t see me through the water construct, and I’m glad I haven’t forgotten all the training Charles gave me.

It’s a pyric victory, though, as a giant fireball hits me. Again, my shields keep me from becoming a charcoaled steak, but I still feel much of the heat on my face.

I launch myself into the air again, just in time to avoid being crushed by a truck that Earth-Ex and Water-Ex send at me. As soon as the truck hits the ground, I send crisscrossing energy balls at the Executioners.

Water-Ex takes it on the chest, and he’s thrown through a nearby store window. But Earth-Ex pulls up another chunk of sidewalk to block the one coming at him. I put enough oomph into the balls to break through the sidewalk, but it only puts down Earth-Ex for a few seconds.

I need to wrap this up before the numbers catch up to me. I fly fast and low and drive my right fist into Fire-Ex’s face, unleashing a low-powered energy blast at the moment of contact. My blast-punch puts his lights out, as it usually does against anyone without super-strength.

Next, I turn around and lift the still-dazed Earth-Ex about twenty feet into the air with a column of energy. I then make the column vanish, and Earth-Ex hits the ground with a thud, putting him out of commission as well.

I try to make my move on the others, but they beat me to the punch.

Before I know it, I’m spinning around in the middle of a water tornado. As I try to get my bearings, it begins spinning even faster. Water-Ex and Wind-Ex are combining their powers, and the gravity of the construct is limiting my movements.

I know there’s a way out of this, but I’m spinning too fast to even get my thoughts straight. I can feel my force field begin to fade, due to my lack of concentration.

Just as the first sprays of water break through my shields, I feel myself plummeting. I hit the ground, and a few hundred gallons of water drop on top of me. I get my head on straight just in time to see Dominatrix dropping the unconscious Water-Ex and Wind-Ex onto the street.

I hear the sirens coming as Dominatrix walks toward me. Before she gets too close, I roll over and vomit. Finally, the world stops spinning a thousand miles per hour, and she leans over me.

“Y’know, if you can’t hold your liquid, maybe you shouldn’t drink so much,” she sasses me in a strangely familiar voice. “Wait,” she says with a finger pointed up. “I can do better than that.”

DarkLight Redemption – Chapter Three

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It’s Monday, which is usually a terrible thing, but on this Monday you get to enjoy Chapter Three of DarkLight Redemption!

THREE

 

 

I know what you must be thinking: Hey, I thought this was just a guy in over his head. But here he is, taking briefcases full of cash from criminal masterminds. What gives?

So allow me to offer some context. Post-Humans (often referred to by the public at large as Posties, though I can never tell if that’s meant as a slur) first appeared a little less than twenty years ago, which means that I’ve never really known a world where super beings didn’t exist.

No one really know the why or how. Maybe the stars were properly aligned. Maybe the mad scientists of the world unleashed something. Or maybe it was just time for the world to change.

It was strange because people who had been ordinary their entire lives suddenly began exhibiting these powers. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it — it just happened.

There are two theories that I think hold some validity. The first is that Earth had its first encounter with extraterrestrial beings at around that time. And the second is that Charles Porter made a breakthrough in his work with dimensional barriers.

I can’t prove a connection to either event, and I wouldn’t even know how to start explaining Charles’ work since he’s a world-renowned physicist, and I never even finished my second semester of community college.

Instead I’ll focus on my personal history. It was all pretty boring. My dad’s worked in construction for thirty years, and my mom’s a veterinarian. My sister, Maggie, just graduated college with a degree in sociology, which I have no doubt my parents will use to try and guilt-trip me into going back to school.

When I was a kid, I loved reading all about the superheroes. Half the comic books on the shelves were non-fiction, if you can imagine that. All the action seemed to be in the major cities, so growing up in the quiet suburbs, I always longed to visit a big city and see a super fight in person.

When I got old enough to travel to Manhattan myself, I would take the train in every weekend just hoping to come across a Post-Human showdown. It was stupid and morbid and dangerous, but if you can’t do dangerously stupid morbidity when you’re fifteen, then when can you?

One day, I got my wish — and it nearly killed me.

I was in midtown when the wall of a bank evaporated. It didn’t explode; it just sort of went away. A Postie named Moleculon was robbing it. He has the power to manipulate any physical matter that he’s touching. And yes, that’s as terrifying as it sounds.

In this case, he touched the wall and transformed it into a gaseous state. Again, not a physicist, so I have no idea how one turns brick into gas. But Moleculon did it nonetheless. He was making a break for it when MasterBlaster arrived on the scene.

MB and The Paradigm became the faces of the superhero movement about fifteen years ago when they were both in their early thirties. Not P.H.A.T.E.’s government-sponsored version of the movement, mind you, but the real one.

The Paradigm was your classic all-star quarterback type: all brawn and media-friendly smiles. MB came across as more of a thinking man’s hero. His insightful brown eyes expressed a great intelligence, but his square jutting chin showed that he could take a punch. MB is a pretty big guy in his own right, so you know he can throw a punch as well.

Seeing him in person was just as awesome as I’d imagined it would be. MB flew down from the sky, glowing blue and wearing the red and gray costume that I’d seen in photos and drawings for years. Here was the heroic masked man swooping in to save the day! Classic.

Moleculon turned some cars to gas, blew them toward MB and then resolidified them. MB took a pounding, but his force field deflected most of the impact. The whole fight only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like an hour while I was watching it.

But losing track of time was less of a problem than losing track of where I was. And so I ended up too close to the action, and Moleculon grabbed me.

He held me in front of him like a human shield as MasterBlaster set down on the ground. There was yelling back and forth — I don’t really remember details, but it was your typical chest-beating stuff.

What I do remember is that my entire body began to feel lighter. I felt like I was disappearing — and in fact, I was. Moleculon was threatening to turn me into smoke if MB didn’t let him escape.

Not surprisingly, I was getting the sense that would happen anyway. Moleculon had killed before, and I didn’t doubt he would again. MasterBlaster must’ve felt the same way since he quick-drew a narrow energy blast, which shot through Moleculon’s shoulder.

At the same moment that he fell, my body seemed to come alight, and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a laboratory. MB was unmasked and running some tests on a machine. He introduced himself as Charles Porter and told me that I’d been changed on a cellular level.

When Moleculon had a hold on every atom in my body and Charles blasted him, my cells became infused with the same kind of power that Charles’s had.

I, of course, thought that was awesome. But Charles warned me of the dangers of carrying that sort of power without any understanding or training. I agreed on the spot to join up as his sidekick, LightBlast. I came up with the name myself.

I say “agreed” to become his sidekick, when “forced myself into the job” might be more accurate. Either way, Charles took me under his wing, and we got our superhero on together. For five years, I partnered with Charles, even starting my own superteam with other teenaged Post-Humans.

There was no adult hero equivalent, as most team-ups ended up being temporary. Egos and such always end up getting in the way. But my team, Varsity Squad, stuck together. I came up with that name as well, and I’m not sure if I’m more embarrassed by that one or LightBlast.

At any rate, I was living the dream. Beating up bad guys, fighting off alien invasions, and just enjoying all that comes with having superpowers. I felt invincible, like nothing could touch me. And then Maggie got sick.

She got hit with something new, rare and nasty. Fast, too — in fact, most cases ran their course from first symptoms to death in less than a month. I had no options and little time to find some.

There was no widely known treatment at the time, and to get Maggie enrolled in the experimental testing would have required pulling a number of strings that my family simply did not have access to.

I went to Charles first, hoping that he might know something I didn’t. He called his friends, mostly other Post-Humans, but nothing came of it.

That’s when I had to make a hard choice. There was one person I knew of that had the sort of resources I needed to save my sister. So I went to Drake Weston and made a deal with the devil.

As it turned out, he had the inside track on a treatment for the disease. He’d run a few tests of his own, and each one was a success. The only reason he hadn’t cashed it in yet with the world medical community was because he was still waiting to see if the cure would last.

I didn’t have time to wait and see whether the treatment would kill Maggie, as the sickness would take her long before then. So I agreed to work for Weston, and he agreed to get my sister enrolled in his own private treatment study.

Five years later, my sister is alive, and I’m finally done paying off my debt to Weston. It took betraying all my friends and most of my principles, but I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Maggie’s heart beating.

But what about the money? you may still be asking.

Well, Weston could have had me doing his bidding for free if he wanted. But, always one to take preemptive action to avoid future complications, Weston made sure that all his employees were well-compensated.

I did try to refuse the first few payments, but I eventually caved and accepted. Say what you will about my wobbly moral compass, but the money helped me buy my pub. And having that will allow me to walk away from LightBlast, DarkLight and my whole messy past once and for all.

DarkLight Redemption – Chapter Two

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Enjoy Chapter Two of DarkLight Redemption. And, if you like what you read, please spread the word.

I’ll be back on Monday!

TWO

 

 

Secret identities are a surprisingly rare commodity these days, but I’ve managed to keep mine intact. My choice of costume helps since my mask offers nearly complete facial coverage.

It’s constructed of a spandexy space-age material that covers the top of my head to my nose. It extends down my neck as well, just leaving my mouth and jaw exposed. I haven’t shaved for a couple days, so I’ve got a decent amount of scruffiness happening. But that’s hardly a distinctly identifiable feature.

The eye holes are pretty wide, but lots of people have blue eyes. I’d once considered an open-topped mask so I could work the whole hair-dramatically- blowing-in-the-wind thing. But dirty blond hair coupled with a strongish jawline, six-foot-tall athletic build and blue eyes does form a decent Wanted poster.

Since you asked, my costume is two pieces: top and bottom, long sleeves and pants. I wear gloves, too, because if you can’t keep your fingerprints to yourself, then you can’t keep a secret identity.

Color scheme is charcoal gray with midnight blue trimming. The mask and the symbol on my chest are both blue. The symbol is an eight-pronged crystalline compass. I’ll be honest: It doesn’t really mean anything — I just thought it looked cooler than a stylized DL. Get it? For DarkLight?

Yeah, I thought it was lame, too, which is why I went with the other thing. Anyway, no cape for me, though I was tempted by the thoughts of it billowing badassedly in the wind. But it really wouldn’t serve any purpose besides getting in the way.

Unlike many other Post-Humans, my costume is neither spandex nor leather. It’s not skintight because, while I’m in pretty good shape, I’ve hardly got what you’d call a herculean physique.

Truth is, I did try a full costume made out of the same material my mask is made out of. But I sweat through it in ten minutes, and it bunched up in all sort of uncomfortable crevices.

So I go with a nylon/canvas hybrid. It looks good on me, and I’ve got a full range of motions, so I’m happy with it. That being said, I fold it up and drop it in my duffle bag before making my way to Weston Tower.

I put on a suit because I’d look just a suspicious going to a meeting with Drake Weston wearing a t-shirt and jeans as I would wearing my costume. He does have several subterranean entrances to the building, but they’re generally saved for emergencies.

After signing in at the lobby desk, I’m escorted to Weston’s private elevator and sent up. They don’t bother sending security up with me since I’ve been here plenty of times before.

Weston has some contingency plans in place in this building since — while he may be the most powerful man in the world — he’s still just a man. This is why every light in the building emits an energy signature that interrupts the powers of any Post-Human under them.

He sold the technology to the government a few years back for a couple billion dollars. It’s mostly used by P.H.A.T.E. for imprisoning captured supervillains.

One thing you have to hand to Drake Weston is that he knows how to play all the angles. I’d respect the man even more if he weren’t a power-hungry megalomaniac.

When the elevator doors slide open, I’m met by a pair of the most beautiful big green eyes I’ve ever seen. Once I get past them, I take in a view of short red hair, pale skin and tall, lean gorgeousness.

She smiles at me, and we nearly bump heads as I’m leaving the elevator and she’s getting in. Pretty smile, too. This is the kind of girl that could get me in trouble, especially if she’s got business with Weston.

I manage to grunt out half of a couple of words. Think I was going for either “Pardon me,” “Excuse me,” “I’m sorry” or “My bad.” Naturally what came out sounded like “Perdexmesorrbad.”

She gives me a sweet, smokey chuckle and replies, “S’noprobkay.”

Seems she’s as bad at this as I am. We exchange friendly smiles and swap spots. The elevator doors slide closed, and I find myself in Drake Weston’s office.

A woman with a different sort of beauty walks over to me. Elizabeth Stokes, AKA Whisper, greets me. She’s got a sharp aristocratic nose, chin and cheekbones, long, wavy black hair and eyes to match. Black eyes, I mean, not wavy. I’m not even sure what wavy eyes would entail.

She always seems to have a slight smirk, which I always notice because I never look her in the eyes. See, Elizabeth can take control of a person’s mind for twenty-four hours if she looks them in the eyes. Even though her powers are nullified here, just like everyone else’s, it’s a force of habit.

It’s a really hard habit to break since I once found myself in a thirty-foot-wide crater in Paris with no memory of the previous day after the first time we met. News reports filled me in about missing works of art afterward. That was before I got into the villain business so it was all quite embarrassing.

I would have ended up in one of the Post-Human prisons myself if my mentor, Charles Porter, hadn’t found the artworks and returned them. Never could pin it on Whisper, though.

Charles Porter, AKA MasterBlaster, is one of the first and greatest superheroes in the world. He’s also one of the main reasons that I hate myself every time I walk into this building.

“We heard that you ran into a little trouble, Thomas,” Elizabeth tells me in her vaguely Eastern European accent, and I regain my train of thought.

“I wasn’t expecting BioBorg to be with the convoy,” I reply.

“And we were not expecting you to waste escape time playing with exploding cars,” Elizabeth retorts, her smirk stretching a bit wider.

“Now, now, Ms. Stokes,” Drake Weston says in his baritone voice as he walks out from behind his desk. “Our young man accomplished his mission. That’s all we ask for in the end.”

“Yes, Mr. Weston,” Elizabeth says, and I smirk a little when hers shrinks.

“It’s always good to see you, Tom.” Weston offers a handshake, which I reluctantly accept.

His brown hair is perfectly sculpted and parted to the side. The suit he’s wearing costs more than the gross national product of some small countries. His calculating eyes and strong chiseled chin always make me feel like I’m a dumb teen sidekick again.

Weston is not yet fifty years old, and he’s owned a chunk of the world for nearly half that. Last year he was named both Forbes‘s Most Eligible Bachelor and Fortune’s Most Powerful Man. It wasn’t his first time topping either list.

I owe the man a great debt, but I never stopped wishing I could find a way to get him locked up. He’s just too damn good, though, and no one has ever been able to put together a strong enough case against him. An army of lawyers and a ledger filled with all the right names will do that for you.

“How is your family?” Weston asks in a way that is friendly and menacing at the same time.

“They’re well,” I say through a forced smile.

“And the bar?” he asks. “How’s business these days?”

“People always need a drink,” I say as he finally releases my hand.

Only three people in the world know my secret identity: Charles Porter, Elizabeth Stokes and Drake Weston. The only one of them who isn’t a morally impaired evildoer is the man whose trust and faith I betrayed.

Weston only mentioned my family and the bar I own to remind me that, even though I’m finished working for him, he still holds all the cards. This is the one man who could destroy the strongest of Post-Humans just by picking up the phone.

I follow him to his desk. He walks behind it and gestures to the chair across from him.

“Please, have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand, if that’s alright.”

“As you wish.” Weston remains standing as well.

He crosses his arms across his chest and looks out his seventy-fifth-story window. He views New York City the same way he views the rest of the world: as a chessboard. And he is the grand champion.

“You’ve done some great work for us, Tom,” he says without looking at me.

“Not sure that’s the way I’d put it, Mr. Weston.”

“No, I’m certain that it is not.” He finally turns to look at me. “I realize that you find the jobs I asked you to do rather repugnant, but at least I spared you from the worst of it.”

It’s true — I’ve been involved in numerous heists, but there were lines he’d never asked me to cross. That was for his benefit as well as mine since even I’m not sure how I’d respond to such a request. While I’m sure he’d considered it, it was not a headache he wanted to deal with.

My lack of response is response enough for him.

“What will you do now?” he asks. “Will you go back to thwarting the nefarious plots of Post-Human criminals?”

“Honestly, I’m tired of the whole scene,” I reply. “I’d just as soon toss my costume in the trash and spend the rest of my life tending bar.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” Weston says. “MasterBlaster has filled your old position anyway.”

“I’m too old to be a sidekick,” I say like the over-the-hill twenty-five-year-old that I am.

“Indeed,” Weston replies. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the new LightBlast, would you?”

“No,” I reply in regards to the young man wearing the title that I used to carry. “Just that he’s been active for a bit over a year. Which means that I’m shocked you don’t already have a three-inch-thick file on him.”

“I will eventually,” Weston nods. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in staying on with us, would you?”

“No, sir, I would not.”

“I thought as much,” he says. “If I may ask: What did you think of our new girl?”

“Dominatrix?”

“Yes.”

“She did her job.”

“She did,” Weston agrees. “We have high hopes for that one. She’s the first second-generation Post-Human to become active.”

“Is that so?” I ask, trying to hide what interest I do have in her.

“We see enormous potential in her,” Weston finishes and walks out from behind his desk. “I’ve always seen great potential in you as well, Tom. It’s just a shame that this is the end of the line for us.”

My pulse quickens for a moment, as I’m not sure whether or not I should take that as a threat. I hear Elizabeth walking up behind me, and I realize that I could be in trouble.

I turn so I have them both in my line of sight, just as she holds up a briefcase.

It’s a familiar case. I’ve collected about thirty of them under these same circumstances. Elizabeth opens it up to show me the cash within, and she closes it after I’ve seen it. Once it’s snapped shut, she hands it to me.

I look back to Weston, who extends his hand once again and says, “I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavors, Tom.”

I accept the handshake and then make my way back to the elevator. I step inside and turn to face the office once more. Elizabeth stands next to Weston, and they’re both watching me.

“If you change your mind about my offer, you know where to find me,” Weston calls as the doors close in front of me.

DarkLight: Redemption – Post-Human Universe – Book One – Chapter One

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Hello Readers!

I’m trying something a bit different with my new novel, and that something is giving it away for free – one chapter at a time.

Since DarkLight: Redemption is a superhero story, and most superhero stories are told one monthly issue at a time, I’m releasing this in a similarly serialized manner.

Fret not, though, because I won’t just release one chapter a month. I’ll be rolling it out twice a week to completion. I’ll try to keep them regularly rolling out every Monday and Friday.

And so, without further adieu, here is the first chapter in the first book of what I’m calling the Post-Human Universe.

Enjoy!

ONE

 

 

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