By Paige McKee
(c) Copyright 1997, Lisa "bum" McKee. This document may not be copied unless done so with this message attached.
Generation X is (c) Copyright of Marvel Comics Grp. WitchBlade is (c) Copyright of Top Cow Entertainment. All right reserved.
Clarice Pezzini could never have claimed to have it easy. For starters people didn't seem to appreciate her kind in the small town of Red Dog. Course it could be because her "kind" was Italian and she had a purplish tint to her black hair and she was born with unsightly marks on her face. She's been roaming this town for the past month, getting stares and watching mothers gather their children close as she walks past. Even the strapless wonders at the saloon whispered when she walked by.
That was the past. That was before she found the artifact and became the Blink Blade. The blink blade was like a band that fastened itself around her left arm. She tried to remove it but to no avail. When trouble arises it encompasses Clarice's body in a metal armor of sorts and if she wants to go someplace it teleports her there instantly. She only found this amazing technology a few days ago but it has already changed her personality greatly.
"Drink?" the bartender asks her as he leans over.
"I need one." Clarice mutters. In the past few days she's fought against such murders as The Orphan Maker and the Synch, It's as if they have been seeking her out. She sips her RC cola slowly and looks around in a corner a girl about her age stands up and a man winces in pain. She probably kicked him under the table.
"Who's that?" Clarice asks, not really interested but trying to make small talk.
"Dey call her The Husk."
"That's a dumb name if you ask me." Clarice mutters as she looks down at her drink.
"Yep. But de bum thought that de way she was before when she was workin' for that Amalgam company was even worse so she hired her and brought her here."
Clarice watches the girl leave. "Any relation to those bounty hunters that came through last week?"
"You mean the Hex group. Nah, I don' think that she wants anything to do with that leather clad Jono Hex character, but I could be wrong. That's for the bum to decide."
Clarice looks down at her wrist for a second, the BlinkBlade still there. "Who's this bum character?"
"Some say she's the all powerful force. One hell of a manipulator, dat's all I know. Has a clan called the Warrior Nuns, Also goes by the Peaceful Terrorist, That's all I know."
Clarice shrugs. "You know quite a bit for a bartender."
"Actually I'm just a machination of the narrative." He smiles.
Clarice looks down at her soda then back up to the still smiling bartender, then back down to the soda. "I'm done. Thanks." She says and leaves her half full soda on the counter and walks out the door.
Clarice rounds the corner and is almost run over by a stage coach. Clarice was never one to utter any expletive, she comes close however to breaking the rule. Out of the coach stagers a small man with an oversized grin and a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes, and resting over his nose.
"I am D.O.A. and-"
"Hold on. D.O.A? What DOES that mean?" Clarice asks.
If the gnome like man looks up at her she can't tell because of the hat. "Deliverer of April?" he replies as if it's a question.
"You don't *KNOW* do you?" Clarice accuses.
D.O.A looks down at his feet, "no." He stammers and kicks a small rock like a child shunned.
Clarice simply looks down at the interesting but very under used character. "Can I help you with something considering you clichÃ© like almost ran over me with your stage coach?"
"Oh yes. I have a mission for you. I've even provided you with a sidekick ma'am."
Clarice only raises an eyebrow at that. D.O.A. continues "her name is Gabrerial and she will help you find your way, granted she gets her self into trouble but-"
"WRONG SHOW YOU IDIOT!" A voice thunders down from the heavens. Clarice looks up and around, She couldn't have been the only one to hear it, but she's the only one to look for the source.
"You have no side kick." D.O.A. simply amends, as if thunderous voices were a mainstream thing. "You are to go to Texas, there you will locate Mr. Saint Of Killers and his family and save the town."
Clarice simply looks more confused than before.
* * *
Clarice wanders into the town of Rusted Root. Word was spreading fast about a plague of sorts that just wiped out another town. Clarice had other problems though. She had to hunt down and stop a man from becoming the near invincible Saint of Killers.
"I figure he should walk into this bar at any second now." D.O.A. says from under his large duster.
"How would you figure-" Clarice starts but the doors opening and a tall built man walks in looking very emotionally distraught. "Oh. I guess that's him."
Sooner than anyone can imagine the two are in the streets of the dusty city. Doors shut and blinds pulled of the small stores lining the street. The BlinkBlade armor encompasses Clarice, ready to teleport her away or to fight. The future Saint of Killers reaches for his gun. Not a word is said and-
"HOLD IT!" Clarice shouts
The Saint of Killers does so. "How DID we get outside so fast?" Clarice asks. The Saint of Killers looks confused himself.
"Hey! Can't you do anything right?" Clarice foolishly insult the Saint of Killers. "No. NOT HIM! YOU! WRITER!" Clarice exclaims and... HEY! Wait a second, she's addressing me. I walk into the scene, "What?" I ask irritated, I mean here it is 4 am I got back from working down at the radio station at 12 am and I'm generally just in a cranky mood.
"Okay. We have a problem here. For starters... do ANY of you writers realize I talk in rhyme? Huh? Do ANY of you?" Clarice asks as she puts her hands on her hips.
"YES!" I shout back, "I wrote you in rhyme in-"
"Yeah, and what's with that? why haven't you posted any more of that "Halloween-Nothing" saga?"
"HEY! Don't get mad at me Blink, it's
not MY fault that a bunch of cult members killed themselves. It's in bad
taste to post
Clarice throws her hands in the air, "And THIS isn't in bad taste?"
I slap a hand to my forehead, "Christ, I needa drink."
Again the hands go to Clarice's hips "You're underage, you can't drink."
"I'm a college student."
"You still shouldn't drink and you should finish your homework and not be writing this."
"Great. My Jimminy Cricket is a teleporting near invincible mutant with purple skin."
"Okay, I have other questions for you. Starters, What's DOA stand for and what does TIC stand for?"
"Deliverer of April Fools jokes and TIC? I'm not allowed to say." I say as I maturely stick out my tongue. "Now let's go watch Gargoyles eh? I mean Owen's lack of grin knowin' who he really is... what a way to start the morning."
"Are you sure you haven't already started drinking?" Clarice asks as she looks at the coffee mug in my hand.
I rub the now increased throbbing in my forehead, I hate when characters I write talk back to me. "Okay, whatever kid. Hey Happy April Fools, and I don't care how many nice cards and flowers you keep sending, your still in my stories."
I don't turn as I walk down the street but I can hear the sound of Clarice fuming and growling. I smile. I love this day.