2025 – A Good Year For Capes & Screams

Two types of movies that I have always loved are horror films and superhero films, and 2025 has been a really good year for both so far.

My favorite horror movies this year are sort of more hybrids than straight-up horror.
Sinners is a really well-mixes action-horror with inspirational ties to a couple of my favorite horror flicks from the ’90’s: From Dusk Til Dawn and Tales From The Crypt Presents Demon Knight. Another old movie that seemed to be reflected here was the mid-80’s Italian horror cult classic: Demons.
Ryan Coogler is one of the most accomplished directors working today, so him delivering the good here was less of a surprise than the several full-blown and catchy musical numbers in the film.

Danny Boyle and Alex Garland coming back for – what I suppose would be considered a legacy sequel (legasequel) at this point – 28 Year Later was probably less of a sure thing than Sinners, but they made a movie worthy of following up one of the tightest and most influential horror movies of all-time: 28 Days Later.
In some ways it’s very different than the original but, considering it’s set nearly thirty years into England being quarantined from the rest of the world, it had to be in order to make any sense.
The fact that all the folk horror and zombie action are window dressing for a young man’s coming-of-age story is an intriguing Trojan Horse job that is much better than it really had to be in order to be considered a success.

Weapons goes even younger with its mysteriously missing kids plot, though only one of the children actually plays a part in the story – at least until its very cathartic ending. It also takes a stronger mystery and humor angle than Sinners or 28 Years Later.
The filmmaker – Zach Cregger – doesn’t have nearly the same resume as Coogler, Boyle, or Garland, but between Weapons and Barbarian he’s well on his way to finding a similar niche as someone like Jordan Peele as someone who can consistently be counted on to putting out horror flicks with widespread appeal

Thunderbolts* (aka New Avengers) and Fantastic Four were the two most enjoyable MCU films since Spider-Man: No Way Home. That Spidey flick was more of a stunt to pull in an avalanche of nostaglia cred – and worked wonderfully as such. But Thunderbolts* is probably a better as a start-to-finish movie, and was a solid effort to make a smaller (by MCU standards) film. It also handles very real mental health struggles with a far more deft hand than one might expect from the MCU. I was very happy when they handed its director – Jake Schreier – the keys to X-Men.

Fantastic Four works for similar reasons – making us actually care about the characters – but also because it is able to truly stand alone as a movie, without needing to have any prior knowledge of the 15+ years of MCU history. In fact, that’s why I was able to bring my kids (9 years-old and 6 years-old) to the movie, and they were able to completely enjoy it on its own merits.

We also took the kids to see Superman – which they loved nearly as much as I did – and they were able to get in on the ground floor for the new DC Universe, which will be shepherded in by James Gunn.
I’ve always liked Gunn’s films, and his TV shows, dating all the way back to movies like Slither and Super.
As someone who grew up on the Christopher Reeve Superman movies, I am not afraid to say that I felt like the new Superman was the best Superman movie. It had all the heart of those first two Reeves films, but it was able to deliver action sequences that simply were not possible 40+ years ago.
Superman, the character, has always been he platonic ideal of non-toxic masculinity.
This is a man with incredible powers who cares deeply for people, respects people, fights for all the people who face enemies and dangers that they could not hope to stand against alone.
But he’s also flawed, and he makes mistakes – but he recognizes and accepts those flaws and mistakes, and does what he can to become the best version of himself.
That’s something that the world really needs to see now more than it has in a long time, and I was so happy to take my boys to experience that on the big screen.

Archangel’s Descent

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.

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America Is “R”-eady!

Deadpool just became the highest grossing R rated film of all time, which is awesome, but I’m not here to discuss Deadpool specifically. Rather, what I’m here to discuss is what that film’s success means for the future of film in a more general sense.

Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) reacts to Colossus’ (voiced by Stefan Kapicic) threats.

The boxes checked off by Deadpool are comic book adaptation, action movie, and comedy film. It would be faulty logic to try and delineate which of these flavors were the biggest reason for it’s record breaking success, as the combination of all three is clearly what led to it. What I’m more interested in is which of those genres will benefit the most from Deadpool’s big win.

We’ll start with comic book movies, as brand recognition certainly factors into box office success. But you can’t really make any more money bringing DC and Marvel characters to life than they already are. These films have made billions of dollars and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

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Also, let’s not fool ourselves into thinking that Deadpool was the first ever successful R-rated comic book adaptation. The three Blade moves were all rated R and – while only the first two were actually good movies – they all turned a profit. Kick-Ass was also received well enough by critics and audiences to warrant an admittedly inferior sequel. The Punisher (2004) and Punisher: War Zone (2008) were not especially profitable, but they were both enjoyable enough to sit down and watch whenever they come on TV some evening or weekend afternoon.

While James Gunn’s Super was very good, it was also an original property, so it may not entirely qualify for this list. But last year’s Kingsman: The Secret Service was a highly entertaining and well-reviewed R-rated comic adaptation. In fact, Kingsman itself did strong enough business to get a sequel greenlit. What I’m ultimately saying is that, even though the money Deadpool made was unprecedented for an R-rated comic book movie, the R rating itself was not.

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Comedies with an R rating never really went away. You can track back even just the past 10 years to the films of Judd Apatow and Paul Feig to see that. The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked UpTrainwreck, Bridesmaids, The Heat, and Spy all made money hand over fist and have strong reviews across the board on Rotten Tomatoes. However, those last two movies lead me to what I believe will be the real genre winner here: action movies.

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Yes, The Heat and Spy were billed more as comedies than as action movies. But they are really just a slight shift in ingredient measures away from films like 48 Hrs, Lethal Weapon, and Die Hard.  Action films used to proudly hoist their R rating before theaters began to crack down on underage viewers buying tickets to those movies. This is why memorable and fun 80’s and 90’s vehicles like the ones listed above, along with movies like Cobra, Predator, Bloodsport, Out For Justice, Con Air, and Face/Off (and numerous more that I could fill out a whole other blog post with) were replaced by a bunch of fairly toothless PG-13 movies.

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It doesn’t seem like the general admission crackdown is going away anytime soon (I might write a post about how the overly Puritan mindset of the American public at-large is doing a disservice to entertainers and those they wish to entertain at a later date) but as long as you can make an R-rated action movie that parents and their tween or teen kids are interested in, then we could see a real Renaissance.

There have been some very good non-comic book “restricted” action movies that have come out just in the past year or two. A few that spring immediately to mind are The Guest, Blue Ruin, John Wick, and The Purge: Anarchy. None of these films carried anything approaching even the relatively low $58 million budget of Deadpool, and none of them had anywhere near the full court marketing press as that movie, but I found them all just as enjoyable.

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There is still a market for “adult” oriented action, you can tell just by looking at some of the biggest television hits of the recent past. Game Of Thrones, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, Daredevil, and Jessica Jones were/are all excellent shows that bring in millions of viewers each week. Every one of those shows is much closer to an R rating than a PG-13 rating and, in fact, three of them are comic book properties. I can also guarantee that nearly half the viewers for these shows are under the age of 18.

You don’t need to be over 18 to want to see this sort of content but, if you are, then you’re not allowed to go to the movie theater and buy a ticket for it. Odds are that 99.8% of them suffer no mental trauma by watching these shows, this I say from personal experience, but now we’re moving back towards that Puritan values problem I mentioned earlier. My point is that, as long as the product is good, and as long as it is advertised and available enough, films of this nature will be successful.

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My theory will get its first real test at the end of May when The Nice Guys opens. Shane Black’s last movie was Iron Man 3, so I suppose it brings a little secondhand comic book brand recognition. But he’s more well known for directing and co-writing great R-rated action films like the aforementioned Lethal Weapon and, one of my favorite action-comedies of the last 16 years, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Yes, there are some big stars in The Nice Guys. But this is not the sort of Oscar bait that most R-rated star vehicles are these days. In fact, it looks a lot more like a fun, old school romp in the spirit of something like Deadpool.

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Obviously, I’m not banking on this as the be-all, end-all, since most of The Nice Guys was filmed before Deadpool was even ramping up its massive marketing campaign. But it bears watching trends over the next few years, and I’m personally hoping we get more of those vintage style action movies that I remember from when I was technically too young to watch them, but watched the hell out of them anyway.

It would be a nice break from the 21st century assembly line of sterile, overly polite versions we’ve been force fed. After all, the famous line does not go “Yippee Ki-yay, Jerkface!”  it goes “Yippee Ki-yay, Motherfucker!”

Batman v Superman v Batman & Superman

I’m about to lay out my take on Batman v Superman, so be warned, there are massive spoilers ahead.

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The majority of reviews were pretty harsh on this movie and, to be honest, mine will be as well. But there were some things I liked about Batman v Superman, so I’m going to hit on those first.

One big positive takeaway was that Ben Affleck and Gal Gadot were both very good in their roles. They really did the best you could expect actors to do considering the material they have to work with. Their performances managed to get me interested in seeing solo Batman and Wonder Woman films. One other sort of character note was that Doomsday was scary as hell, so they nailed that.

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This movie, like any other Zack Snyder film (even Sucker Punch), was great looking. Say what you will about his movies as a whole – and I will do so below – but the guy knows how to work an aesthetic. A more specific example of this is that, like in Man Of Steel, the fight scenes were all very well executed and exciting.

Some of the content from said fight sequences were questionable, but you can’t question that they were purely visceral. I’d like to also single out the scene towards the end where Batman systematically takes out a group of thugs is genuinely the best cinematic realization I’ve ever seen of the Dark Knight in full ass kicking mode.

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Now for the rest.

Batman v Superman was absolutely joyless. Everyone acted like a dick to everyone else, and it seemed like the movie took place in a parallel world where smiles were punishable by death.

I’ve seen Henry Cavill be charming in other things, like The Tudors and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. But he’s not allowed a single moment of levity in this movie. Superman was all dour and depressed and nothing else. You think that you’d got to at least give the guy a chance to show how simply awesome it is to be Superman, but apparently you’d be wrong.

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There’s a montage of him saving people and, in every example shown, he looks like he’s pissed off at having to pull these fools’ asses out of the fire (literally in some cases). That is not Superman. Superman, in pretty much ever incarnation, enjoys saving people and gets a sense a purpose and satisfaction from doing so. Zack Snyder’s version has more in common with Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen, a distant and removed God among mortals doing what we must for no other reason than because it’s expected of him.

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I’m well aware that Snyder directed a pretty good adaptation of Watchmen in 2009, but he clearly didn’t understand that Dr. Manhattan was meant to stand in stark contrast to Superman. He was written to be a version of Superman who lost his humanity, which is quite possibly the defining characteristic of Kal El. Even clinically gloomy Alan Moore wrote a more relatable Superman in stories like Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow and For The Man Who Has Everything.

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Batman, meanwhile, was blowing people up left and right with no regard for whether they lived or died. That works for a certain type of protagonist, but it is not who Batman is. Tossing severe beatings to the bad guys is very much within the Dark Knight’s wheelhouse, and flipping over their cars is par for the course. But Zack Snyder could not lay off the explosions. A flipped car here and there is cool but, for crying out loud, they do not need to explode and ensure that everyone in the theater has no doubt that those dudes are dead.

I was willing to give Jesse Eisenberg the benefit of the doubt in his portrayal of Lex Luthor, even though the trailers gave me some pause. But he played Luthor as a jittery bundle of nerves, which seemed like the exact opposite of an appropriate characterization. I’m all for giving an established character a bit of a different spin, but completely routing out the traditional cold and calculating core of Lex Luthor is doing a disservice to the character.

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Which brings up to the real problem. Warner Bros has never trusted the source material for their DC comics adaptations. Meanwhile, Marvel pretty much films the trade paperbacks panel by panel. As such, WB gave the keys to Zack Snyder and David Goyer, neither of whom seems to have any real affinity for the legendarily storied history of Batman or Superman.

Everything is darker, grittier, more violent, and more melancholic than it ought to be. And this comes from a guy who really liked the dark, gritty, violent Dark Knight Trilogy. But it’s just not the right tone for a movie that includes Superman and Wonder Woman. If I had to guess, I’d say the general flaw in their thinking is that they need to makes things as stylistically different from the generally bright and sunny tones of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As a result, they’ve painted themselves into a corner.

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Yes, Batman should have some edge and darkness. But Superman is meant to represent the diametric opposite of that. If the symbol on his chest stands for hope, then why is his outlook – and the outlook of this film – so hopeless? BvS just came off as Dark v Darker, and this ain’t Punisher v Wolverine (as awesome as that would be). The filmmakers simply pressed too hard for distance between their brand and the Marvel brand, and ended up in a shadow realm.

WB Films should take some notes from their TV brethren. Greg Berlanti and his team have made a fully fleshed out and realized world that is the closest thing to a comic book brought to life ever seen to television. Arrow, The Flash, and Supergirl bring the heart and the fun to the party. In fact, the recent crossover episode they had might as well have been called Supergirl xo The Flash.

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But these shows also manage to hit the darker notes when they need to. The big difference being that they don’t start off somber leaving only a deeper abyss to descend into when they want to raise the stakes. When you feel the need to have Superman beaten down by Batman, blown up by a nuclear missile, and THEN stabbed through the chest by Doomsday in the same night to make a point about how hard it is to be a hero, then maybe you ought to reconsider your starting point.

There were other issues with BvS, such as too many nonsensical subplots, and an Apokolips teasing dream/vision sequence that absolutely no one would have missed had it ended up on the cutting room floor. Yes, it was cool to see parademons, Darkseid’s omega symbol burned into the ground and the classic Apokolips fire pits. But all that ate up 10 minutes of screen time that did nothing to serve the story as a whole.

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Here’s the thing, I did appreciate the film for what it was. It had a lot of heavy lifting to do in order to be the launching point for a new muti-film franchise. It wasn’t what I’d call enjoyable, but I will certainly watch it again when it’s released on home video, even if I happen to zone out through a good half of it. And I am glad that it had a massive, record breaking opening weekend. A unified DC Universe deserves the chance to exist on the big screen. The upcoming films on the slate simply need to do better in terms of quality.

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Maybe giving Snyder and Goyer a little time out, and allowing some DC people like Geoff Jones and CW people like Berlanti a place at the table would be beneficial. I’m not especially hopeful that WB suddenly decides that 80 years of continuous interest can translate to the movies, or that Snyder and Goyer will step back and re-evaluating their vision for the DC Cinematic Universe.

But the world of pop culture and entertainment will be a more interesting place with good, proper DC movies hitting the theaters every year. I just hope they can get out of their own way enough to get it right.

 

 

Goodreads Giveaway

Congrats to all the winners of the DarkLight Redemption Goodreads book giveaway !

You’ll be getting your signed copies soon, and I hope you enjoy the read.

As for everyone else, you can still get the book in paperback or Kindle on Amazon.com, and it’s definitely worth  a look (if I may say so myself).

Superheroes Now Super Available

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

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

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

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

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.”