Random Thoughts - Zisco

Until It Sticks

1/27/2021

NOW

"Feels like forever, doesn't it. Like eons ago I first laid eyes on her. Didn't know what to think at first-- just heard Him whisper in my head, with one hand on my shoulder, Who Is That"

"Feels like forever, doesn't it. Like eons ago I tried so hard to protect her from You. From knowing You."

"I never wanted You anywhere near her. And I did not even know a damn thing about her. Not even her name. I just wanted her as far away from You as possible."

"And You Succeeded."

"I had to."

"No, You Did Not; However, You Made That Choice. Not Just For You. For All Of Us."

"I had...to."

"No. You Did Not."

THEN

"How Many Times Are You Going To Keep Pushing Me Away From Her?"

"Until it sticks."

"She Is Stronger Than You Think. Stronger Than You Could Ever Wish You'd Be."

"You don't deserve her, T."

"That's Not Your Choice. Don't Do This."

"You need to be re-written."

"I Will Find A Way Back To Her."

"Not if I can stop you."

The Death Of Mazikeen Morningstar

11/19/2020

Now

Truth sat upon his throne, looking down on his kingdom; everyone below him, either hiding or trembling beneath his feet. Some had heard of what he did, many others refused to believe that Happy had been murdered.

Only a few held on to hope, that perhaps this wasn't for good.
However, Truth was just getting started, the dominoes had only begun to fall.

Truth's Bar

"Lord Truth, what would you like now?" The barkeep asked T, as he cleaned up the few leftover beer glasses.
"Well, Dear Poe, I Do Believe I Will Take Two Glasses Of Your Finest Wine. I Have Company Coming Soon."

Poe looked on the shelf and picked out a La Rioja Alta Gran Reserva 904, pouring two glasses, he wondered who was coming to visit.

"She Should Be About To Walk In."

Mazikeen entered Truth's Bar and quickly spotted him; she started walking towards him, with a frown on her face.

"You asshole!" She screamed, readied her knives and charged against Truth.

"Now, Now--" Truth evaded her swings, started defending himself, Mazikeen trying to land any blows on him, non-stop, her adrenaline keeping her focused.

"Maze, You Do Not Want To Do This."

"Lucifer will be here soon, I just told him I wanted to draw first blood! You need to be put down like the dog you are!"

Mazikeen struck Truth on his chest, tearing his clothes, spilling a bit of blood. Her knives always cut deep and deadly.

"Well, Mission Accomplished, I Should Say. Congratulations. This Will Be The Last Thing You Do."

"My Apologies, Maze, But I Simply Am Rewriting My Story. I Am Regaining My Throne."

"You always have to take over, don't you? You always want to be in control, be the top wolf, but guess what, you never care what happens to all of us! We are always just collateral damage in every little war of yours!"

Truth kept fighting Mazikeen, they both growing tired, minutes became hours, for time passed differently here. And Maze never dropping her guard, Maze always holding onto her knives--the only things she trusted more than anything in her world.

The wine glasses untouched, on the bar, Poe overlooking everything; he knew better than to interfere.

"You Done Yet, Mazikeen?" Truth exclaimed from the floor, looking up at Maze, covered in bruises, blood and scars.

"We're not done! Get up!" Maze was growing tired.

Moments Later

"No, No, What Did You Bloody Do?" Lucifer had arrived at Truth's Bar a little too late.

"I Did What Was Needed, Morningstar. You Of All People Should Know."

"Maze, Maze! Mazikeen!!! Answer Me, Please, Breathe, Hey, I'm Here!" Lucifer held onto Maze's corpse. Truth had set her ablaze, and while her charred corpse sat lifeless in Lucifer's arms, Truth just stood there.
And did nothing.

"You Twat! You Have Any Idea What This Means!?" Lucifer picked up Maze's body, and started carrying her out of Truth's Bar.
He looked back at Truth and said,
"You Wanted War. Well, You Got It."

"Looking Forward To It, Morningstar."

"I'll See You On The Other Side, You Pest."

***************************************************

The Last Ballad of Roman Rot, Cassandra Hack, and J The Trickster

9/8/2020

Hear ye, hear ye,
upon us all a call to arms begins,
with many monsters, heroes and more filled with sin.

This is today, and here comes tomorrow,
with little past and present borrowed.
Upon us all a vote was cast,
and given forward the answer is a must.

To go deep into slumber for the great of all,
a willing sacrifice of siblings is called.

Little too late for a different choice,
no alternative but to follow the voice.

So step into Seker's temple,
and meet your brother Pharaoh,
who's been asleep, too, with no more sorrow.

Welcome Roman, welcome Cassandra,
here lies each sarcophagus,
prepare for the embalming,
do not fret,
there will be no harming.

Deep sleep,
no nightmares,
no angst,
no wars,
no need to weep.

And once you awake,
many moons from now,
you'll be cleansed,
you'll be pure,
you'll be free,
amongst the powerful three.

*********

Now, now, Green one,
you will join in as well,
but let me tell you,
for you there's a different spell.

You are incorrigible,
you hurt, you maim,
one would have thought you'd learn to change,
such a shame.

So enter the Vault,
this here's your own fault.

You'll learn eventually,
that I am a patient and fair god,
and for that, I'll give you my word,
once I allow you to wake again,
nothing for you will be ever the same.

You will forget who you are and why you exist,
you will be at my mercy, Green,
that is the gist.

For every story needs a true villain,
but villain you are not,
merely an imperfect rough sketch,
like a dog that can't even fetch.

So sleep deep, Green brother of mine,
forever encased in stone,
you'll carry our burdens,
that will be your only throne.

Ní Mise Do Laoch

7/26/2020

Mharaigh tú é agus anois déanaim fiach ort.

Ghoid tú uaidh, agus anois déanfaidh mé duit é a thabhairt ar ais.

Bhagair tú orm, agus anois beidh aiféala ort.

Fillfidh tú a chroí.

Nó cuimilt amach mé.

Jumping worlds,
travel afar,
one by one,
rip you apart.

Split you in two plus four times eight,
everything is more fun when you play with friends.

Oh deary me! This dear old heart,
so sympathetic from the start.

Tell me did you prepare a burial,
well dig three graves,
solve my parable,
or become our slaves.

I Have To Eat Him

6/5/2020

"You Can Cut Out What's Killing You."

"How would I do that, when all I can feel is you killing me?"

- T and Z, circa 2007.

"I Have To Eat Him."

"Careful, T. You give yourself an idea, and sooner than later, like a parasite, it will start consuming you."

- T and Z, present time.

"I Am Not The Intelligent Psychopath You So Eloquently Paint Me Out To Be."

"No; that would be too easy of a label for you... J."

"How Long Have You Known?"

"You forget, T tortured me for years."

"And Thus The Student Has Become The Master."

"Or I simply got tired of writing your story."

"You, Blue-- You Are The Perfect Sociopath."

Why Blue?

10/20/2019

Years ago.
The Collective Subconscious.
Red Zone.

"Welcome To Our Humble Abode, Dearest Friend. Pray Do Tell, What Is Your Name?"

"Uh hey, name... I don't--what do you mean? My color is blue. Light blue."

"Ah Indeed It Is. You Are The Sad Boy. I Can See It In Your Eyes."

"Uh, excuse me... "sad boy," I'm sorry...and you are?"

"Names Are For Friends. Tell Me, Blue, Are You Going To Be My Friend?"

"Well, no offense...but you are being an asshole. So no, I don't think I will."

"Ooh, A Little Bit Of Fight In You--I Like That."

"Hey, Mister Truth! Did you see who's here? Ooh, I see you two have met!"

"Hey, it's you again. Yellow. Light Yellow, if I remember correctly."

"Child. What Did I Tell You...Do Not Come Back Until You've Gone To The Cave."

"Oh but Mister Truth, I did! I didn't find anyone there..."

"Mister Truth? Bahaha. Okay.. What kind of name is that?"

"My Color Is Blood Red; And I Already Told You...Names Are For Friends."

"Right..."

"Oooh, ooh, does that mean that you're going to be our friend?? Please Mister.. Uh what do I call you?"

"Blue. You can call me Blue."

"That's not a name, silly goose. That's your color. We need a name for you."

"Well... Francisco is already taken. I can't think of anything."

"The Host Isn't The Only One Allowed To Name Us. How About 'Cisco' For Short? I Believe 'Cisco' Works Just Fine. It Even Sounds A Hell Of A Lot Cooler. Cool Blue. Ha Ha Ha!"

"Man, who asked you? Seriously, do you ever shut up?"

"Oooh, I like that one, Mister Truth! That's a cool one! Wish that was mine..."

"Light Yellow, There Is Nothing Wrong With Your Name. It Fits You Just Fine, But Do Not Worry... We Can Come Up With A Better One."

Years Ago, But Later Than Before.
The Collective Subconscious.
Truth's Bar.

"Would you stop that! Jeezus, man, why do you have to keep doing that..."

"Please Refrain From Ordering Me. You Know Better, Z."

"Let her be, okay, clearly it ain't worth it."

"Always Thinking So Low Of Yourself. Such A Pathetic Cockroach You Are. Have I Not Taught You Anything?"

"You creep motherfucker. I wish I had never met you at all."

"Tsk, Tsk, But Then You Would Be Alone Like Before. Alone. Suffering; Because That Is All You Are. Suffering Little Pest. Annoying Me. Grow A Pair. If It Wasn't For Me, You'd Be Nobody. Look Where We Are."

"You are an asshole, Truth."

"That Isn't What Happy Thinks. Remember, Remember, We Are In This Forever, Together."

"Stay away from her, you sick fuck!"

"Flash Forward And Soon You'll See.
Why Oh Why, True Red Was Better Than Me." - False Red.

Years Ago Then Later Than Before But Later Than Now Written Before.
The Collective Subconscious.
Doc's Office.

"Here we meet again, Patient #2. It deeply saddens me; I was aware of your improvement just last week."

"Listen, Doc, Let's Cut The Crap. I Feel Fine. I Am Perfection. I Do Not Need To Be Here."

*Speaking into recorder*
"Patient #2 neglects guilt for his actions."

"Listen... Can You Not. Alright, What Does That Do For You, Anyway? You Enjoy Hearing Little Playbacks Of Us? Maybe You Should Get A Check Up, Doc. Ha Ha Ha."

*Speaking into record"
"Patient #2 uses humor to avoid serious inquiries about his mental condition."

"Alright, Alright. I'll Bite. What Is The Problem Now... Please, Enlighten Me, Oh Wise One."

"You enjoy causing pain on Patient #5, and you abuse him to the point he is getting used to the abuse. You have no regard for his feelings, let alone for what you are causing on his own psyche."

"Z? Doc, We Are Best Friends. Besides, Life Is Pain, Doc. You Either Man Up And Take It, Or You Stay Down Like The Cockroaches And Die Off. I Am Simply Making Him Stronger. Building Zisco Up To Be A God. Like Me."

"Life is more than just pain, Patient #2. Life... It isn't just about the suffering."

"Indeed, I Agree, But Then That Is What Z Is, Doc. Z Is Suffering. He Was Built For It. To *Be* It. It Is Why I Chose Him."

"Patient #2, you cannot continue this kind of behavior. You need to acknowledge--no, you need to put yourself in Patient #5's shoes."

"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha, Why Would I Do That For? My Shoes Fit Just Fine, Doc."

Sometime In The Future, But Close To The Present But Not So Far Away In The Past.
The Collective Subconscious.
Z's Room.

"Quit Whining. Move On. Let's Go, We Got Things To Do."

"Can you maybe pretend to give a shit about what is going on for a change?"

"You Told Her You'd Wait, She Didn't. Case Closed, Z. Let Little Devil Go. Move On. Quit Being A Debbie Downer."

"You asshole."

"Come On, Partner. Let's Go Paint The Town Red, Blood Red Like We Used To! What's Stopping You?"

"You are, you dick. You always stop me."

"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! Only Because You Enjoy It."

Now Closer To The Present But Not Quite There Yet.
The Collective Subconscious.
Fran's Childhood Home.

"So...we agree, don't we?"

"I don't have any objections."

"All in favor, say yes and raise your index finger."

*Three for three*

"Alright then; you know what you need to do."

"Oh.. indeed I do. Hehehehe."

A Fixer of Sorts

9/30/2019

Midnight.
May 24th, 2023
Joe's Tavern, Brooklyn, New York.

A man sat alone at the bar; mid-thirties, sporting a brown leather trench along with a vest, white dress shirt, black tie beneath and slacks. His tie was loosened, his frown was stern as he clenched his teeth and watched the two ice cubes melt inside his glass of whiskey. It was late and no one else was at the bar; most of the regulars either had left or were passed out in the back alley outside.

The bartender, Joe, approached the man. Joe had seen the man before--one could say they were acquaintances from a time before--but one could also say they were complete strangers to one another. It really all depended on who you asked.

"Penny for your thoughts, friend?" Joe asked the man, as he wiped a glass with his rag.

"Do you believe people can change, Joe?" the man replied. "Or are we simply destined to stay the way we are for all of eternity?"

"Ha, eternity you say? Well, I don't know about that, friend, but I do believe people are capable of some kind of change. Even in the slightest."

"This is where I have to disagree with you, Joe, I don't believe that at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"There's... this old acquaintance of mine. We met years ago, and we used to be close--well, not so much anymore. Some might say we had a falling out. Thing is, I am pretty sure to this day, he is still the same man."

"I don't follow," Joe stood confused, but kept listening.

"He is... a fixer of sorts. He takes out the trash, if you get my meaning."

"A killer."

"More of a hunter, to be honest. He tracks down people like me."

"Ah.. now I follow," Joe said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey as well.

"Back then, he didn't know--he wasn't aware. So we became friends, we were close up until that very moment when he--"

"--he discovered you were enhanced."

"Yes exactly. You see, ever since then he's had this thing. He comes looking for me for some sort of... parlay. A piece offering for lack of a better word. Too busy hunting others, you know, but he hasn't forgotten about me. And he likes to make it perfectly clear."

"I see, have you spoken to him since your last, erm, meeting?"

"That's the thing, Joe. Our latest meeting, I'm afraid, starts the minute he walks in through your doors." The man took his glass and drank it all in one shot. He smacked his lips and savored the aftertaste. He let out a sigh and turned to face the entrance to the bar.

"Wait a minute..." Joe stood perplexed, looking at the doors as well, and setting down his drink without taking a sip.

There was silence; silence that felt like it contaminated the air for hours, even though it was mere minutes--minutes before a shadowy figured entered the tavern and stood there, observing. He scanned the entire room and started walking up to the bar where the man was sitting.

When the shadowy figure got closer, Joe could make out the details. He must have been around mid fifties, scrawny beard, grey coat, three piece suit beneath, but rugged, like he had just came from a scrap with a bunch of the regulars in the alley. Clothes were wrinkled, dirty--old. And the wrinkles in his face told Joe this man had seen some shit. His shoes were covered in mud, he really could pass up as homeless more than anything. And Joe thought maybe he was.

"Welcome to Joe's Tavern, fella, I'm Joe. What'll be tonight?" He said calmly so to not come out as hostile, given what his pal at the bar had just told him.

The man ignored Joe and walked up closer to his pal. He took out a pack of smokes from his coat and lit up a cigarette. He took a couple of puffs and blew smoke in their direction. He coughed lightly and got closer without saying a word or taking his eyes off his pal.

"Well, well, you look worse for wear, old friend," the older fella finally let out some words and they were not directed to Joe at all.

"I could say the same thing about you.... *old friend,* but then again, who are we kidding right? We both have seen better days, haven't we?" the man said sarcastically, quickly grabbing Joe's still untouched drink and approaching the older fella.

"Careful, you might be onto something; but as they say, seek the truth and you shall find him." The older fella met up with the man, face to face, inches apart, eyes locked on one another, you could feel the tension in the air, and Joe was not having it.

"Well, yes, indeed, but we can be civil about it, like old times, yeah?"

"Right. So the hard way then." The older fella took his coat off and dropped it to the floor, to Joe's surprise, he sprouted wings. He stood behind the counter with his hands now holding the rifle he had in his hidden compartment.

"Listen, fellas, whatever it is... please take it outside," Joe said calmly but finger on the trigger.

"Listen, Joe, you know I love your bar... so believe me when I say this, when this is all over, I'll cover your expenses and we'll have this place looking spiffy once more," the man took a swig of Joe's drink, and dropping the glass to the floor, charged at the older fella. Before the glass even touched the ground to shatter, they were both fighting and tossing the place apart. Feathers and blood and broken furniture flying across the room. Joe, hidden behind the counter, holding his rifle for protection but in fear, started to shake and scream, hoping it would all be over soon.

Joe's Tavern would close indefinitely the next day. Only one casualty would be filed on the police report, and the building would soon be shut down, foreclosed, and become a home for all those transients who used to get piss-drunk and pass out in the alley behind it.

No one would mourn Joe, well, except for the man, for he had outlived his family and friends and had no one else left.

And every year, the older fella would chase down the man to wherever he was, have the same short conversation, and someone else would be filed in a police report as a casualty to which the media would later refer to as a casualty of "an enhanced nature."

But the media would never tell you the whole story, no--and you could try and search for more information online but, it wouldn't help you. No.

You'd have to hire someone like me if you were, say, interested in learning more about the truth.

And trust me, the truth and I, we go way back. Some could even say we're as close as brothers. And trust me, because, why would I lie to you?

*****************************************

Poison in the water, yet you keep coming alive

9/25/2019

Las Vegas, Nevada, January 3rd, 2003.
4321 West Flamingo Road
Palms Casino Resort
Tuesday, 3:35 A.M.

Local police had been notified of a domestic disturbance at around three in the a.m. when one of the casino's employees had called it in. The disturbance came from the penthouse floor, where one female, Hispanic, mid-twenties, black hair blue eyes and one White Caucasian male, black hair, hazel eyes had an altercation concerning some "personal issues" that escalated quickly into physical and violent nature.

The patrol unit that arrived first on the scene studied it, carefully, cautiously, for it seemed the "altercation" was far from over.

The scene was trashed, and in Vegas, one would think this was just another Tuesday, however, there was more to this particular story.

"Feathers," police officer James London kept repeating on his shoulder radio, shaken by the picture that the scene before him painted. "Feathers and-and-and tons of blood!" Blood everywhere, broken furniture, shattered glass--the hotel room was trashed.

There was one particular that shook him to his core. Before him, a couple of individuals stood face to face, also covered in blood and glass. This wasn't a normal crime scene, no.

Both individuals still stood, alive, even though with the injuries they both seemed to bear, shouldn't have been.

"On the ground! Hands on your head, move it! Now, hands on your fucking head, do it!"

Angels don't follow rules, hell--any super-powered human could give two shits for "following rules." Yet somehow, humans still believed halfheartedly that they should.

"I'm not going to say it again, hands on your fucking head! Get on your knees, god damn it!" Officer London repeated, yet to no avail.

"You Pesky Cockroach, You Do Not Get It, Do You...?" the strange winged figure said calmly.

"How could he, brother, he's eons behind of his natural evolution. However, let him not be a distraction, you and I-- We aren't finished yet." The female figure said, nonchalantly, but holding a hostile posture.

"Don't you fucking move, I mean it!! I will shoot! God damn it, listen to me--whatever-whatever you fucking are! On the ground now!" Officer London said once more, top of his lungs, with all the strength he had to not break nervously before those creatures. Sweat dripping down his brow, voice shaking-- Officer London was going to die, he just didn't know it yet.

"Well, it seems I shall end your miserable little life first, then sister and I can continue our...beloved family discussion." The winged figure said, and before his sentence could fully reach Officer London's eardrums, he flew in a split second to where the officer was standing and with a swoop of his wings, he sliced through the man's carotid artery.

"W-w-wings, w-w-wings," Officer London struggled to get the message through his shoulder radio, blood spurting out of his mouth, blocking his oxygen intake, he slowly rested on the ground of the hotel casino, watching as the two monsters before him fought with each other--the carnage painting one last horrible image before his eyes closed forever.

This was the first sighting of these winged creatures in over ten years, but the media would deny it, the Vegas PD would try to hide it, and the world would not even accept it without undeniable proof.

Someone out there was playing god, and god wasn't all too happy about this outcome.

Sightings of these winged creatures started exponentially increasing, just as well as sightings of "super-powered" people, and no one could figure out the connection. The skeptics believed in an extinction level threat, the United States government tried to hide it, and all in all, it was deemed a myth--a lie.

However, the angels didn't think of it this way--they sure as hell weren't done with us just yet.

And some of us, like myself, wasn't done with them either...

(Notes from the trial of) La Curandera

9/25/2019

Salem, Massachusetts, October 1692.
Sundown.

Outside a small house by the woods, lovers Vince Morgan and Katherine Burroughs stood afraid of what was coming. It was a dark time they were living in, and after Katherine had been accused of witchcraft by some of the neighbors, the night seemed to only grow darker.

Tell me it isn't true, anything but that. Tell me their mouths spew nothing but lies.

She hesitated, she didn't want to tell him the truth, but felt there was no other choice available for her. She had been discovered, and in order to keep him from leaving, she would have to tell him.

Listen, my love, I did not mean to keep this from you, you have to believe me. I had to. If you knew... I would have put you in a great deal of danger.

Well, it's a little too late for that now, isn't it? They are going to hunt you down. You know that. These people-- they'll believe in the devil sooner than they will trust their own eyes.

Then let's run away together, just the two of us as far away from them as we can! We could do it. Let's do it now. Just us against the world. You know?

Vince was the one hesitating now; how could he abandon his entire family, even if once they found out who she really was, would do nothing but despise her--shame her for being what she was and turn her over to face trial.

I-- I can't, my love. I just--

What do you mean you can't? Or is it rather you won't?

Unfortunately, I, too, have a confession to make.

Vince took a stick from the ground below their feet, and with a snap of his fingers, brought upon it fire, and the stick lit up with a bluish-red flame. Amazed by the sight before her, but also terrified, Katherine took a few steps away from her lover.

What--this cannot be. What--what are you?

I am a Red Wolfe; part of the Rayge and Fury pack of warriors that hunt witches through these parts of our grandiose town. But I, too, could not have told you, and even more so now, that--well, I have discovered you are one of them.

No, no, my love please you do not understand, I am not a witch! I am not, I swear. I am something else entirely, you must believe my word.

I only believe my eyes, and with these hands, and by the power that God has bestowed upon me, I have a responsibility I must carry, you know that, darling Katherine.

So--so what, you'll betray me?

I will do what is needed. I took a vow to my lineage, my family.

You are a traitor, a Judas! I cannot believe you would do this to me!

Katherine, now, let's not make this harder than it should be.

Vince took a hold of Katherine's arm, and she reacted, knocking Vince to the ground.

Katherine, do not do this! Do not force my hand.

Oh, but darling, you done forced mine first.

And with a bright explosion of light, Katherine's wings protruded from the skin on her back, ripping through her corset and gown. Vince, still lying on the ground, struggled to catch his breath, as for what stood before him was monstrous in his eyes. Something he knew was not meant to share the world with him and the rest of the people. Something--abominable. Vince stood up slowly, his fingers creating sparks, but it was too late, Katherine swoop in closer and with a quick punch through his chest, ripped Vince's heart out.

I really wish you would have given me any other choice but this, my love.

Vince fell on his knees, choking on his own blood, the spark on his fingers slowly fading, and as he took one last look at Katherine, she fluttered her wings and took flight, disappearing into the clouds above him.

Katherine flew for a while, then landed on the infamous Salem woods, nearby one of the burning sites. She walked towards what was left of a previous burning. Now merely a giant stake on the ground, with the corpse of her mother still hanging, horribly disfigured.

I am sorry, mama. I promise, I will get revenge. Even if it takes me a month, or even years. I will avenge you, mama.

She grabbed a feather that was on the ground by the site; she blew the dirt off it, and set Vince's heart in its place. She took the feather and hid it in her bosom, keeping it close to her own heart and took flight once again, leaving Salem for good.

The above images copyright Francisco Meneses 2008.

New York Minute

9/21/2019

Nine O'Clock at night.
September 21st, 2045
The New York Minute, Offices of Journalist Dr. Green.
Manhattan, New York.

Start of Entry

Years ago, super-powered people became a thing. People weren't sure what was the cause of it. A lot of skeptics believed it to be the government carrying out experiments on the poor, while others believed it to be genetics. A lot of word-of-mouth has come and go as the years went by, and to this day, no one knows what caused it.

Hell, it was only about ten years ago we discovered Bigfoot was actually real. So anything is possible, if you ask me.

All I know is that there was a huge blackout here in New York last month, and ever since, more and more super-powered people started surfacing. At least here in Manhattan. I am not sure about the rest of the world, you see, I don't get out much.

I will tell you this, part of me believes more on the skeptics than anything else. I visited Ellis Island once; you see, I was working a job. For the paper. Yeah, I'm one of those. A journalist. I know, I know, I'm possibly one of the biggest turds out there-- getting involved in everybody's business, running my mouth--well, my words, about everything that goes down. Sure, but trust me, I'm doing this for the good of the people. Unlike that other rival paper, mine is a small operation. We focus on the deepest darkest secrets this city has to offer, and now with capes flying around, well, let's just say, there's a lot more darkness around.

Anyway, back to my story, so I was doing a job in Ellis Island, I had gotten a tip from a pal that had witnessed a supe escape from a facility down there. Something rather sketchy. So I followed up on it, and lemme tell you, it was worth the scrapes I got. I barely escaped with my life. I got chased down by a swarm of armed guards, but the thing about them was what screamed "red flag," you see, they didn't seem like regular police. No, they were wearing heavy armor, and I'm not talking about good old regular Kevlar, nah-uh, I mean like some hardcore state of the art armor. I managed to hide, but stumbled upon one of their sealed doors, something behind it was banging loud, making tons of noise. Obviously, I had to check it out. Then it happened. The lights in the hallway started flickering and a huge electronic pulse blasted around us all. Knocked my curious ass to the ground, I'll tell you that much. By the time the noise cleared I got up and saw two supes before me. They were kicking each other's ass, if that was even possible. The door before me had blasted away and I could see inside. They were both wearing some sort of armor too, or suits, I am unsure. Vision was still a bit fuzzy from the pulse. I started taking photos as quickly as I could, I did not want to lose out on the action. That's when the guards fell in line and pushed me out of the way, one of them telling me that I had to stick around, that I was in big trouble. Well, he didn't get to finish his sentence before one of the supes blew his head off right in front of me. I did what any regular scared-shitless guy would do in said occasion and I ran like hell.

Let me tell you, to this day, I haven't been able to get the blood off my shirt. This is what started my movement, however, and I am glad I left alive to tell the tale. You see, not very many people here in the Big Apple are fans of supes. We are all legitimately scared, to tell you the truth. So here I am, writing a story, following leads. Something tells me that the supes I saw that day were big rivals, and since that day, I've made it my mission to track them down. Supes are always almost impossible to find; and not very many enjoy their notoriety. So that makes it harder.

All I know is that these two might hold the answers I seek, and I need to find them.

No matter the cost.

This is Doc, writing for the New York Minute, signing off.
Thank you for reading and remember, stay vigilant out there, don't trust anybody, and most importantly, stay away from the capes.

End of Entry.