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Next Dawn Comics Present
www.soljo.org/ndc/
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A Soljo Publishing Production
www.soljo.org
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CRUSADE
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SEASON ONE
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PART ONE: Into the light.
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I can see his hand. He is clutching a pair of aces. And some rubbish. But he
doesn't see those all he sees are those big guns. He thinks he's won, he
thinks he holds all the aces. He's wrong because I can read him like a tabloid,
him and the other sharks at the baize table.
I know exactly what their thinking. I know that he's thinking about using his
poker winnings to buy heroin for two. He can already see his wife's smiling
face as she shoots up. How very romantic.
It's my gift. I can see into peoples heads. And reach into their soul. A gift,
a gift from the Demons.
I didn't always have abilities. Well maybe I did, I just didn't know about it.
One day I walk in to my local and bang, I'm assaulted by a barrage of voices.
Men, women and some who weren't sure, all talking to me at once. I didn't know
what was happening, one moment I 'm waving at my friends, the next I'm under
attack. I had to leave, I had to find somewhere quiet. But I couldn't find any
where, I could still hear the thoughts of the friends I left in the pub.
I'm only holding couple of twos. I think it's time to beat a hasty retreat.
The aces aren't always the best hand. A combination of low cards will have him
beat. The big guy to my left has just such a hand. He's got three sixes. Those
sun glasses may protect him from the regular crooks but not from me. I throw
down my cards in disgust. It looks like these two are determined to take each
other out of the game. Good, more money for me.
You'd think a nice dark alley would be the quietest of places. On that night
it was the noisiest. I could still hear the pub. Loudest of all though was
Cassie. When she waved I saw her mind excite and the emotions flood through
her. I saw her concentration switch from her boyfriend Dan, to me. I always
thought that I was deluding myself, I never suspected that she felt the same
way I did all along. I always shied away from actually asking her... I mean
look at her. How could someone who should be strutting down a Parisian catwalk
ever want me? But she did, she always did. All I needed to do was ask.
It's one down and one to go. The chips are stacked against me, but that's never
been a problem. The eliminated players are stood around the edges of the room,
mulling over their losses. One on one, the way this game was meant to be. This
player has a big weakness, he's too confident. Even though I'm still here, he
believes there can only be one winner. He's right, but that winner is me. This
isn't over confidence, it's not even confidence, its knowledge.
Where do you turn when you are confused? To friends, to your best friend.
Milton has always been there, in his own way. Whenever I go to his place I
always feel that I play second fiddle to his toys. He always could make things.
Improve domestic appliances so they work better, faster, longer. But I know
that as far as people are concerned I'm top of his list. I told him what
happened and he nearly dropped his coffee. But he believed me.
"Why don't you use your new skill," he suggested.
It began with cards. Milton thought that life hadn't dealt us a fair hand, so
why not adjust the balance. I won. Every time. And I made some pocket money.
But it wasn't enough. Then came a discovery. One night we were sat in the flat
watching a film. It was late and neither of us could be bothered to get up. I
was thirsty. I could see the beers in the kitchen but I really didn't want to
get up.
"Wouldn't it be great if they'd come to me."
"Try it," Milton sniggered.
So I concentrated on the cans. They began to shake. I tried again and they
lifted into the air, hovering in the middle of the room. Milton jumped to
his feat. He walked around the cans, waving his hands around them. He stood
silent for a moment.
"Steve, I think it's time to graduate from card school," he said.
Graduation day was glorious. The sun was shining and the bank was full of
money. We planned it for weeks. I trained myself, sharpening my telekinetic
ability. Milton made gadgets to aid us. Disguises, bags for the money and a
plan, a simple but effective plan.
We turned up at the bank in our disguises. I say disguises but they were more
like costumes. Milton described it as urban camouflage. Mine was very simple,
just a grey suit. Milton knew I had my own tools should there be any trouble.
Milton's suit had more pockets than a pool table. Each pocket stuffed with
equipment. A sunny day in the big city and we were about to join the rich list.
We walked into the white, disinfected bank. We paused as I sent a mental
message to the customers that know would be a good time to leave. It was just
the staff and us.
"Act as though we aren't here and this will be over very quickly," said Milton.
Milton went to the staff door and pulled a small explosive device from his
pocket and placed it on the lock. I watched the thoughts of the cashiers. One
went for the alarm, but I knew what they were doing before they did and they
were elevated from the ground away from the alarm and dropped at the other
end of the room. The explosive blew the lock and we were in.
"You lot are going to be trouble aren't you," said Milton.
He took a small device from his pocket, threw it in the room then stepped out.
The bank staff stared at it, I sensed their fear as the gas spurted out.
"You didn't need to do that," I said.
"They're easier to handle when they're asleep".
I took the keys and locked the front door. We didn't need any heroes
interrupting us. The closed sign adorned the entrance. We found the safe,
with a little help from the bank manager's memory. He was even kind enough
to give me the combination. Not that he knew anything about it. The money
went in our bags and we walked out the back door.
Aces. Now I hold all the aces. I may only have a pair but so does he. And
they aren't aces. It's time to convince him that it's time to go all in. I'm
getting tired. I dislike manipulating the mind of others but sometimes needs
must. I really do need to hit the hay.
The robberies continued in a similar vein. Soon we were front-page news.
Except no one had a clue who we were. Milton's masks were amazing, our own
mothers wouldn't have recognised us. Then Milton got ambitious. He wanted
more technology and his target was a research laboratory. But not any lab,
the lab where Cassie worked. I couldn't do it. He said he'd do it himself.
I couldn't let him so I talked him out of it. He must have changed his mind.
One morning I slept late and Milton had gone. Milton never got up before me.
I knew he'd gone to the lab.
When I arrived at the lab there was a large hole in the wall. He was
definitely in there. I entered into carnage. The lab was in pieces. The lab
workers strewn across the floor in varying states of consciousness.
"Stop it please, why are doing this." I could hear the voice in the distance.
It was Cassie.
I ran into the next room. There they were, Milton restraining Cassie.
"Let her go," I boomed.
He did, turning his attention to me. I could feel his anger. I knew what was
coming. He plucked small explosives from his pockets, flinging them at me.
However, they posed no problem as I redirected them skywards. They exploded
harmlessly above. Milton came at me throwing punches, but before each one I
could see what he planned and could counter each strike. Milton knew it so
changed his tactic. He threw an explosive at Cassie I had to stop it. It was
enough to take my concentration from Milton and he pinned me to the ground.
I could do nothing as he pummelled me.
Then Cassie leapt on him. Flailing wildly at Milton. But he overpowered her
flinging her fragile female frame off his shoulders and against the wall. She
slumped in a heap. Rage filled me. I lifted Milton off of the ground and
propelled him skywards. Away from me. Away from her. Cassie lay in a broken
pile on the ground. She was breathing. I gathered her in my arms and headed
to hospital. She's still in hospital, unconscious and comatose. But she is
still with me. She is my Ghost.
The chip pile is huge. All his money, all my money. All the money, soon to
be mine. Now she turns up. Cassie is next to me. Rather, her soul is. She
looks at the table.
"That's a lot of money," She says, "I hope you're giving it to orphans".
My opponent turns his cards over. A pair of sevens.
"Aren't you talking to me?"
I put a finger to my lips in a ssshhing motion.
I turn my cards over and start to scoop up my chips. As soon as he sees my
cards you don't need to be psychic to know he's angry.
"Time to run," my Ghost tells me.
I never noticed how big this guy was until he stood up. Six feet tall and
five feet wide. He pulls a knife and throws it at me. I slow it down and
twist it in the air so that I can grab it by the handle. He is shocked but
it doesn't last long. I drop the knife, wave the window open and escape into
the alley-way. I wave the window shut and run. And keep running until I find
a park bench that looks inviting. I sit down and take what few chips I
pocketed out.
"You're not going to be able to cash those," says the Ghost.
"I guess not"
I throw them in the bin.
"Don't you ever think you that this is a waste of time?"
"Regularly."
"It could be time to change."
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Crusade.
Written By ChickenSoup.
Characters By ChickenSoup & PaRiS.
Cover Art By PaRiS.
New Dawn Comics (www.soljo.org/ndc/) part of Soljo Publishing (www.soljo.org).
All Storylines, Contents & Characters Copyright Next Dawn Comics & Soljo
Publishing 2004.
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EOF
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