Blood Sisters

Prologue

Allison Ashton smiled sadly at her naked baby girl as she fumbled with her father’s boot. It was hard to tell which was brighter: the yellow of her husband’s old fashion fold-over footwear, or the sparkling golden radiance that surrounded her daughter, Jenny, like a second womb. This translucent energy felt solid to the touch, like thick rubber, and emitted a slight hum whenever the little girl moved. The phenomena was not uncommon among the population of Earth's New Humans, and was usually referred to as a force-field. It was this force-field that was causing Jenny’s difficulty with Daddy’s boot. Her little hands pushed against the protective radiance trying to grasp the yellow treasure, but it prevented her from getting a good grip, so the boot kept slipping away.

Jenny seemed anything but vexed by this, her playful giggle floating over the faint hum of the field with each failed attempt. Jenny looked over at her mother with her big blue eyes, shifted slightly green through the candlelight wall. With a wide-mouthed coo she smiled at Mommy, which filled Allison’s heart to bursting and she smiled back with a ducky wave prompting more little giggles from the girl. Jenny’s attention turned back to the boot, her brow crumpling in focus. Lightly stroking her fingers over Jenny's bubble, Allison’s thoughts wandered back to her daughter’s birth; nearly a year ago now.

Allison possessed great strength, the upper limits of which had never been tested by the meta-physicians that both studied and provided medical treatment to the New Humans. The meta-doc's that had studied Allison estimated that she could lift the equivalent mass of a small mountain. She had recently moved a supertanker in the Aleutians after it had run aground in a storm, ruining the shorelines and fishing grounds of some Unangan Islanders. Regardless, It had still been full of oil and was pretty heavy. She wasn't too sure about the whole “can lift a mountain” idea after that.

It was Allison’s incredible strength which was likely the cause of little Jenny's force-field. The steel crushing muscle of Allison’s uterus would have doomed any fetus that could not protect itself somehow, and nature had provided. However, it provided too well. The dilemma facing Allison now was how to help her daughter turn the force-field off.

Allison had never been able to touch her baby girl, who had been wrapped in the golden cocoon since before she was born. The meta-physicians told her that Jenny’s metabolism was sustained by the same energy that powered her force-field. They called it bio-mutant energy and many of meta-doc's believed it was this energy that fueled the extrodinary abilities of all New Humans.

The force-field kept Jenny quite safe. She had never gotten sick, she did not need to eat, so she never needed to be changed, and she hardly ever cried. Despite this, her daughter's condition was painful to Allison, who rarely felt pain at all since her body was tougher then a tank.

Despite all of her New Human abilities, Ally reacted to the birth of her child like any other woman. Allison would trade all her might to just be able to touch her little girl. Her longing to cradle Jenny in her arms was ocean deep and her breasts ached for want of suckling. Sadly, all of this was denied to her just as daddy’s boot was denied to Jenny.

Brushing away a tear Allison bitter-smiled as she considered what her husband, Marty Goldstar, had to say about it: “Look at it this way, you can’t feed her, but I won’t have to change her diapers! Personally, I think we made out on the deal.” Marty had a force-field similar to Jenny's, though he could turn his off. He seemed to like that his little girl had a power like her old man, and with his customary optimism just assumed she would figure out how to control it eventually. Allison prayed that he was right.

Allison Ashton was known to the world as the country music star, Ally Ashton, fondly called the Lady from Texas, she certainly lived up to the name. Towering two inches over six feet with a thick athletic frame, Allison had full blond hair to her wide shoulders and piercing sky-blue eyes. Allison had also been openly known as the American New Human hero Miss Liberty since she started making use of her great strength and invulnerable body to try and make the world a better and safer place. Now, as a mother, she felt the need to do so even more deeply.

Allison's efforts had made a significant impact since she donned the mantle of Miss Liberty. In addition to her physical poweress, she could use her immense reserves of bio-mutant energy to rocket herself through the air up to supersonic speeds. She could also project this same energy from her body in destructive flares when needed. As a result of these remarkable gifts, Allison, and those with abilities of similar magnitude, were among the first New Humans that had been designated as omega class New Human. A more powerful generation of New-Hums that had began appearing across the world since the 1970's.

Allison was suddenly brought out of her musing by a popping sound and a bright flash that filled the room. Her hand, which had been resting on Jenny's force-field now held empy air. Looking over at Jenny, who was cooing with glee, she saw that her husband's yellow boot was now inside Jenny’s golden force-field with her. Jenny took the top of the floppy boot in her bare hands and stuck her head in the top, as if exploring a small leather cave.

“Jenny!” Ally gasped with delight “How did you get that in there?!” In reply Jenny just cooed into the boot. Allison sat down next to her glimmering child on the floor, running a hand over the resilient barrier that divided them once again. “Huh,” she exclaimed, finding that the force-field was as intact as ever.

Jenny’s head popped out of the boot and she smiled at Mommy, holding her daddy's boot towards her as if to share it. Mommy melted and said “Oh... thank you Jenny, you hold on to that for now.” Allison’s hand pressed against the field, more then she had ever dared before, until she felt it spark slightly below her hand. The boot on the other side remained out of reach. Six inches of solid steel would be no barrier for that hand, but this bright radiance held her at bay. Ally feared it would harm Jenny if she forced her way inside of it. Jenny held the boot out for a few more moments, then with a shrug went back to exploring it, perhaps the first thing other then her own body that she had ever touched.

“Well Jenny,” Allison said softly. “If you can manage to get the other boot in there too, just hold onto them, I’d rather your father got better looking boots anyway. Those have been out of fashion so long cavemen had more style” she smirked and shook her head in resignation. She loved her husband, Goldie, as she called him privately, very much. However, Goldie thought the height of human culture was reached with Saturday Night Fever and he therefore saw no reason to leave the 70’s behind. He was a disco dinosaur in a hip-hop world.

Ally sighed, looking up at her trophy wall where several framed gold records hung on either side of an enlarged photograph of herself. In the picture she was dressed in her specially made cowboy boots (a gift from the state of Texas), M-Tech gold bracers, blue jeans with a big-buckle belt and the patriotic top of Miss Liberty shaking hands with the last President. Allison had a few different beta-cloth uniforms for Ms. Liberty, but this simple one was her favorite.

On the other wall was Goldie’s vinyl collection and a large photo of Allison and Marty. He was a handsome man with tanned surfer good looks, dressed as the hero Goldstar: a white and yellow outfit that could have come from the Krofft Supershow. In the photo he had his arm around Miss Liberty and the two made quite a pair; Allison was 4” taller then Marty, including the heels on his boots. They both had blond hair and blue eyes. The picture was from shortly after they met and Allison gazed at it fondly for a long moment before returning her attention back to Jenny.

“Hopefully your father’s good looks and force-field are all you inherit from him, Jenny. Otherwise I can’t be held responsible for what may happen,” she smiled and hugged Jenny, getting an armful of humming golden orb, then left her to play with the boot.

Miss Liberty, Allison Ashton, country music star and one of the world's first known omega class New Humans. Goldstar, Marty James Goldstar, her husband, also an omega class New-Hum. They were two of the hundred or so omega class New Humans identified so far. Jenny Goldstar, their daughter, was the first known child of two omega class New Humans.

'What a family I have here' Allison mused, glancing back at the joyful star at her feet. The strongest person on Earth wondered if she would be strong enough to get through the days to come. That is until she looked at her daughter's beautiful face, then she knew she would have to be. What other choice was there?

Blood Sisters

Chapter 1

Cricket was mad. Slowly, she got to her feet. Her torn dirty street clothes and tangled blonde hair were now even more of a mess then usual Still-numb muscles responded sluggishly and under considerable protest. She steadied her 15 year old body, finding her footing and looked up. A short distance away there was a man in a black jumpsuit and body armor, groaning on the ground. Near his outstretched hand was a device that resembled a large remote control, with two thin wires that spiraled out the top, snaked across the pavement, then up into the air to where they were planted in Cricket's chest like harpoons.

With a grimace she pulled out the thick sharp barbs. They had only barely penetrated her armor-like flesh, but it was enough to take her down. "That HURT," she breathed, walking with zombie steps towards the man. He was still groaning, barely conscious, bleeding freely from where his head had scraped across the pavement. Behind him was a small red car covered in more Bondo then paint. It had a noticeable dent right in the middle of the grille. Tangled on the front bumper was the man's squawking communications headset, still connected to the man's equipment belt by a thick black cord. The driver of the car was a young man with long windblown hair. He was standing next to the car in shock. "Oh my gawd! Hey are you okay, dude?!" He looked down at the man in black, horrified. "Dude.. oh god... dude, are you a cop or something?" The driver knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The man groaned again. "Are you okay, dude?!" Just a grunt in response. "Hey, help! HELP! I just hit this dude, I think he's a cop!" The young man was yelling into the air, an edge of panic and desperation giving added weight to his plea.

"He's no cop!" Cricket spat with venom.

She had almost reached where the man lay, still walking with awkward slowness. The young driver looked up, seeing Cricket for the first time. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as someone barked a sharp command "One-Eight-Seven, step AWAY from the agent!" Cricket turned her head to see another man in black... taking aim with another remote control. "Sir!" The agent commanded the young driver. "Get out of there, she is dangerous!" With that, the agent had gotten close enough and activated his remote. Two harpoons shot out of the device towards Cricket. They flew fast and true, but not fast enough. This time Cricket dodged them, the wires arcing over her shoulder as she ducked. The harpoons hit a concrete building behind her, penetrating the wall until they were well out of sight, leaving two cracked holes. A puff of blue smoke came out as the device delivered its charge uselessly into the structure.

Cricket reached the man and grabbed him by his Kevlar vest, her fingers tearing easily into the fabric. The man gasped and looked at the girl in horror. Cricket, numb, afraid, angry and in pain, reacted violently, lifting the man into the air and throwing him across the street. The agent cried out in alarm as he tumbled through the air. He flew over the traffic that had stopped to witness the spectacle on this side of the divided city street, over the median, over the traffic on the far side until he came to an abrupt stop when his body crashed into a city transit bus on the opposite side of the road. The metal side of the bus caved in and the windows exploded out of their frames, showering over the street and into the bus like a thousand razorblades, cutting faces, hands and arms of the passengers. The agent stayed implanted in the side of the bus where he impacted, at the center of a metal and glass crater. He let out a single gasp as his life left him. His neck was at a twisted, unnatural angle and his body was broken, frozen in a lifeless scarecrow pose.

Cricket saw what she had done and stared wide eyed at the man and the bus. Fearful cries of the injured passengers echoed across the street. She felt sick inside as she saw the man's corpse leak bloody tears from the eyes in his crushed head. Her throat tightened and her eyes stung. "Holy... hey... you KILLED that dude!" Cricket heard the red Bondo car driver yelling at her. She turned to glare at him, feeling sick and ashamed. The young man paled, then turned and ran for his life, fearing he was next. Cricket just watched him go, then turned away, feeling sicker. People were starting to call out to the passengers on the bus, rushing to help them. A few people who saw what happened were looking across the wide street, pointing at Cricket and then turning to each other with disbelief and shock. Cricket could not hear what they were saying, but the look on their faces told her all she needed to know.

The sickness in her gut was like a cold rock, weighing down everything inside her. Cricket felt tears starting to come. She was still not recovered from the jolt the first agent had delivered to her. She stumbled down into the subway, breaking the view of her accusers. She sought refuge below the streets, the squeal of train brakes below drowning out the echoes of tragedy above.

***

In a parking place a short distance away was a black Cadillac DTS. Inside there was a spooky man with a sharp crew cut, sunglasses and a black suit. He watched with a dignified frown as the young short-haired blond girl ran down into the subway. With a dry sigh he pressed a button on his armrest and his face disappeared behind a tinted rear passenger window. The man tapped a communicator earpiece and spoke in a low flat tone. “Get me Welkowitz, the 1-8-7 situation has gotten too public, and we need bigger guns.”

The spooky man sighed into the muted sound of the car. He was looking at the back of a much larger man who was sitting in front of him listening to a quiet sports news-show brodcast. The top of his head brushing the ceiling of the car. There was several long moments of silence between them, the radio show droned on in the background. The smaller man started tapping his fingers on his armrest as his patience wore out. He finally spoke to the big agent. “So, you were right”. “Mmhmm.” “Its OK you can say it.” “Nope.” “We needed more then four agents.” “Yup.” “...” “Hows your team doing?” “Better then us.” “How long you going to do this?” “What time is it?” “Five past Four.” “Little bit longer then.” “You know what? You're fired.” “Fine, then you can drive your own skinny ass home.” “Good point.” “Mmhmm.” “Lets go get some coffee, then head back for debrief.”

The big man started the Caddy and pulled out into traffic. The sounds of sirens and frenzy drifted into the shaded windows as the good people of the city came together to manage the scene across from the agents. He deftly drove away from the chaos, safe into the anomymity of rush hour. The big man said “I hear they are going to be issuing us some bullet-proof sunglasses soon.” “Only bullet-resistant actually, they're made in China.” “CHINA?! Well, shit, guess I'll have to avoid gettin' shot in the head then.” “You're out of luck, no one could miss a head that big.” “What time is it now?” “Four eighteen.” “Mmhmm.” The big man turned right unexpectedly, just making the light. “Hey, the coffee place was down there...” “Yup.” “A little bit longer then.” “Little bit.”

Empty Chair

Who is sitting in your empty chairs,

vacant spaces and quiet stairs.

Vainly grasp an ebbing tide,

fading lanterns on a midnight ride.

As time unwinds a gate unlocks,

a beating heart the ticking clock.

Only memory is in the empty chair,

and memory that wants a person there.

Jodi Mushy Stuff

I love you because:

you struggle to know what you believe.

you reject the catechism of greed.

your made to kneel but choose not to pray.

you see only color where others see gray.

when you crawl its to feel close to the Earth.

you carry your shame and don't drag your purse.

your a Muppet that says “fuck it”.

you squish like a marshmallow and hide in the pillows.

you wear leather like a devil.

you painted your halo purple.

you know the riddle of the disco turtle.

I know you just laughed.

your face lifts up my heart.

with you I am a better man.

you keep getting back up.

elephants never forget.

-- For Jodi, 3/14/11

(Blueberry Pi day).

Growing up is leaning to tolerate your body. Growing old is learning to forgive it.

BEHOLD THE POWER of THREE!!!

It even effects how many cookies should be eaten at any one time!

Much needed changes to the DC comics universe!

I find myself completely unimpressed by all the versions of Donny Troy (Wonder Girl). According to "real" myth, the only Amazon to ever marry and have a child was Antiope (who was abducted by Theseus) so I have written a totally new background for Wonder Girl:

The Amazon Antiope in ancient times had been the wife of the hero (and her abductor) Theseus. She had a son with him that she named Hippolytus in honor of her Amazon queen and sister, Hippolyta. Theseus was seduced by Phaedra and tricked into believing that Hippolytus raped her at Antiope's word. He came to murder his son and Antiope. Antiope fled to Themyscira, but Hippolyta would not allow the boy onto the island. Antiope fled but evetually Theseus found her. He killed his son and began to battle Antiope, but was dragged into Hades by the Furies. Antiope, grieved, returned to Themyscria, but she never forgave Hippolyta for the death of her son. Antiope tried several times over millennia to overthrow her sister and become queen of the Amazons, failing each time. Eventually, Antiope was warned that any further attempts would result in her exile from Themyscira. Antiope, of course, did try again and was sent into exile. Antiope went to live in Troy. After Hippolyta created Diana (Wonder Woman) from the clay of Themyscria and named her the Princess of the Amazons, Antiope became enraged. Antiope decided to bear a child to challenge Diana. However, as mighty as the Amazon's are, they are not as mighty as Diana who had been given additional powers from the Gods in answer to Hippolyta's prayers (and because Athena desired a new champion in her gambit to depose Zeus). "Normal" Amazons do not have the ability to fly nor the resilience, strength or speed of The Wonder Woman. When General Dru-Zod escaped the Phantom Zone and threatened Earth (a DC version, not the Superman II version), Antiope seduced Zod and pretended to assist him, taking the name of Dark Angel to obscure her Amazon heritage. Once she concieved, she betrayed Zod and left him to his fate. Returning to Troy, Antiope gave birth to "Donna of Troy" and began to train her, and instill in her a hatred of Wonder Woman. However, Hippolyta had not forgotten Antiope and every year used the Mirror of Athena to scry upon her. In time Hippolyta learned of young Donna, and sent a rare expedition of Amazons from the Island to abduct Donna. Antiope was taken by surprise and was subdued easily. Antiope was given a stern warning from her former sisters that if she threatened Diana, or any Amazon again, it would be at her peril. However, the Amazons do not know that Antiope is Dark Angel. The abduction of Donna has instilled a deep seething anger and need for revenge in Antiope, not just on Diana or Hippolyta, but on all the Amazons, and the Gods themselves. Leaving Antiope to her exile, Donna was taken to Themyscria and raised by the Amazons, who obscured her actual heritage. Thanks to the benevolent rearing on Themyscria the darkness in Donna's soul from her vengeful mother and her ruthless father have been tempered, but still haunts the shadows of her psyche. Eventually, Donna, who always felt out of place on Themyscria, leaves the island,  seeking out Diana and becoming the heroine Wonder Girl. Her true origins remains obscured to all but Hippolyta and her captain, Philippus, who had led the assault on Antiope. Also see more on Antiope and the new character, Spartan below: 

Coffee Thoughts

A committed relationship is washing your favorite mug every day.

An ugly mug is still a mug.

Dishes in the morning is racing the kettle.

You know you needed that big dump when it clears out your sinuses.

Robert McCloskey:

I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.

Alien Cats

Our planet is just a big shiny ball for the Space-Cat Empire!

There is no safety in beauty.

Toast

Like people, bread is usually more interesting when its toasted.

Super-Horticulture.

Superman is basically a very strong invulnerable plant without roots. Appropriate that he was raised on a farm. Like plants... he thrives on sunlight. Fortunately, most plants don't have heat-vision. Otherwise making a salad would be a whole different experience.

Bachelor pains.

The only thing a bachelor likes about fitted sheets is sleeping on them. We don't like to wash them, or fold them. We don't even want to know they are called fitted sheets. I died a little inside when I realized I knew what a fitted sheet was.

More Brownies...

Brownies are a baked chocolate omelette.

The Judge: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Hello, can you hear me? Good.”

I am called The Judge. And I perform what I consider an important public service, a somewhat specialized line of work: I kill people. Not just any people of course, but people that deserve it. Now, you might assume that I mean murderers, rapists, pedophiles, kidnappers, hip-hop artists, that sort of thing. But no. I kill the people that I think deserve it. I can understand your typical murderer or rapist. They aren't really human, but they have a certain honesty about them. Their crimes make sense, part of the natural order of things. Life is violence, we are either violent to ourselves or violent towards others, or both. Just how it is, in many ways these animals don't have the ability to function in any other way, and such behavior falls short of what interests me. No. For something to be evil, for a person to be evil, it must involve a choice. They must understand the evil that they do and have fully embraced it, willingly. Having had the presence of mind or ability to choose otherwise.

True evil, real evil does not reveal itself in such an obvious manifestation as your typical murderer or child molester. It is a quiet cancer of society, hiding among the everyday people that sit across from you on the subway. Real evil looks normal, tricks you into thinking that it is normal, even becomes cloaked in what might be considered legitimate or necessary institutions. Supermarkets are evil. Schools are evil. Churches are evil. As you can imagine, I don't have many friends. But I will bet that as I named those 'wholesome' cornerstones of modern life what they really are, somewhere deep down inside you, you know it is true. If you doubt it, go out into the woods for a week, or lock yourself in a room with only the food and water you need to survive for a while, no TV, no radio, no computer or cell phone, nothing but you and the silence. Then re-enter the world as we have made it. It is a jarring experience. That is when you know evil. It is where I live everyday.

Heart of Darkness: Chapter 1

Heart of Darkness

Chapter 1

The lab was dark and cool. There was an island of light cast from a saucer of spotlights above the middle of the room. A cone of ghost-light fell upon a beautiful young woman, shackled to a flat steel table with metal cuffs and leather straps. Upon her head was a dome of electrodes each with a black cord that twisted across the floor like a thick snake to a bulky control counsel. The woman was pale and disoriented from drugs. Even so, her large ocean-blue eyes seemed to drink in everything around her. Her open mouth was framed with plush full lips painted red. Her perfect teeth and dimples hinted at a smile that could brighten a room like a sunrise.

Echoing through the dark room was a Frankie Laine song that had been climbing up the Billboard charts: Do not forsake me oh my darlin', on this, our wedding day. Do not forsake me oh my darlin'...

The woman's torn clothes barely allowed her any modesty. She had wavy brown hair that was moist from her cold sweat, matted to her wide cheekbones. Her swan-like neck was adorned with a knotted silk scarf, playful and elegant. An ample bosom swelled below a brassiere that strained to break through the remains of her pale green blouse. Snug brown trousers hugged her round hips, tucked into brown leather boots with dots of stippled-out hearts.

...I do not know what fate awaits me. I only know I must be brave, and I must face a man who hates me. Or lie a coward, a craven coward, or lie a coward in my grave...

The voluptuous woman moaned softly, writhing against her bonds. Her smooth skin rose with goose-flesh from the cold steel of the table beneath her. Her back arched and knees bent trying to escape the chill, the leather strapping restraints creaking like a hangman's rope.

I could only scream

When you died
I could only scream.
My Mother my Mother
you were in me.
Wrapped around my bones.

When you died
I could only scream.
A hollow point shell
blew through me.
Drawing a barbed-wire net,

Would I had known you

My Father,
we had 38 years.
Would I had known you.

But under the bluster
and fury was a
silence born long
before me.

It would be better
for a son to
respect his Father,
and still I try
to foster it.

But, I never knew you.

Last Kiss

Last Kiss

I wonder if she knew

it would be the last kiss.

A moist tender parting,

chains of chemicals from

tongues to brain that still

connects us.

Even now, I can taste it.

The memory of her

swims in my brain

sparking patterns

of synapse and nerve

that make me ache,

as the echo of a woman

is no substitute for her presence,

and her shadow, long departed,

still reaches me.

Is it all men?

Is it all men?

Is it all men who
once their seed is planted
taking root or not begin
seeking other gardens

to once again empty
themselves in the moist
fertile ground of woman.
Not that a garden

Take my hand

Take my Hand

Silver girl peeking over

wide eyes are staring

dancing in the bright moonlight

in ladybug shoes

Running wild through the raindrops

jumping in puddles

making the little rainbows

for her to slide on.

Chorus:

Take the hands of the child

Never-land is a cradle

a child in the sandbox

is a world with no fear

please do not let me go

into bitter winter

where people in boxes

dream the world into gray.

Penelope

“Penelope”

Brave Penelope overlooking the sea
holding Telemachus to your breast
you wave your husband off to war
You walk in Ithaca below the olive trees
A widow’s grief you fear
As you stand along the shore.

The suitors come hungry at the scent
Of the vacant throne Odysseus left behind.
You weave Laertes’s shroud
To keep them all at bay
Unraveling it at night
Lest they claim your hand by day.

The Ballad of Christina Green

Six Arizona tombstones
bought with blood and with lead
at 10:10 local time
the desert ran red.

In the City of Tuscon
our six cowboys lay dead
no more riding the trail
the deserts stained red.

Chorus:
The ghosts of Arizona
on the cold desert nights
whisper to us sad stories
asking us 'make it right'
in the eyes of our children
chase away the bad dream
let us all sing the ballad
of sweet Cristina Green.

God Fearing Atheist

God Fearing Atheist

I'm a god fearing atheist, and its your god I fear

your wooden cross death-cult telling me to get saved

from original sin, so that I can get in-to

the next world you say is so much better then this.

This world with its rainbows, rain forests and rainstorms,

does it rain in your heaven, can you watch the sunrise?

Its easy to rape this world, and hoard all its treasure

when you care more about heaven and how to get there.

Eulogy for the Old Man of the Mountains

“Eulogy for the Old Man of the Mountains”

You might have thought stone would stay,

wind and water so slowly sculpt the Earth

it seems the lightest caress to the

span of human eyes.

The Old Man, his granite face

watched over the valley since before

we were here to thank him.

You might have thought he would have

been there still and ever after our

short span with the world.

Brownies

A good cook can make brownies in a white t-shirt and keep it that way.