Post by thekillingjoke on Jan 9, 2012 19:00:57 GMT -5
Batman #7
By Cornelius Spunkwater
----
Texas
Gordon hops on one leg and holds to Wayne who carries him easily so and they stop among trees afrost and eerie to hide. Many screams of maddened men do go past unnoticing dear Gordon and Wayne fearing for their lives. Soon it becomes clear and they make way slow because Gordon’s pain holds them. Gordon says: Just leave me right here.
But Wayne ignores him and carries on strong til they reach below where two horses don’t wait. Instead they die by hand of Blackfire’s song. His minions sing peaceful at salvation’s gate before they shut it. Gordon and Wayne watch.
What now? Gordon asks.
Escape at any cost.
Wayne rests Gordon between trees and says: Stay awake. He sprints toward cultists with teeth bared and rips out one throat and another. They scream with what blood splattering. One is scared to lift his weapon and runs fast for the encampment. A shot explodes through Wayne’s heart and he falls.
Blackfire rests beside dark blood. He runs a stake through to murder Wayne’s heart. He is paralyzed and Blackfire says loud: Someone bring me a blade. We have some work to finish. The work of the Lord.
A crowd makes haste bringing a blade while Blackfire jerks Wayne by his hair and the congregation sings merry: Feed us him doomed to damnation.
Across a rock Wayne’s head is set to die and Blackfire raises the blade. From darkness yonder a shot hits Blackfire’s shoulder and the blade flies and another shot strikes a cultist who wanders. The torch he carries hits the ground and then several others follow so the night is black. Silence stands for a spell.
Gordon stirs when a lantern glows and heels shuffle and clack in the dirt. This soul pulls the stake from Wayne’s chest and waits for him to rise. He coughs hard and rolls about til he finds energy enough to sit and say: Goddamn my heart hurts. I need a drink.
The man hands whiskey by the flask to Wayne but he refuses it and the man says: Boy, thought ye wanted a sip. Reckon it’s to yer likin if ye know what I’m getting at.
Wayne takes it and draws heartily and within moments it’s empty and shut. The wounds heal there. Wayne says: Thank you kindly. But we need to get the hell away from here before they come back.
Hop on back my horse and let’s go then, he says.
I’ll just come on my own. Take the sheriff or he’ll die.
Wayne gets Gordon unconscious from the tree and sets him on back the horse. The man mounts and before riding says: Good luck deputy.
Wayne starts digging fast because these seconds do count as the sun rises and day breaks between leaves. For now this shallow bed is the sleep of dreams.
Night falls and ground breaks. The dirt shifts aside and Wayne rises along this frozen section of land. The man says: Found a place to hide I see.
Who are you? Wayne asks.
When the sun goes down I’ll be whoever ye want me to be. But why don’t you call me Monk for the sake of simplicity.
Reckon that’s fine by me, Wayne says and loads his guns.
Monk watches and takes a swig from the flask.
That whiskey in there this time? Wayne asks.
No it ain’t. It’s whore’s blood.
How long you been following me?
About everywhere for a while I reckon. We share the same blood. I figured we both could use a friend.
Maybe so. You inclined to help me kill these sons of whores?
By Cornelius Spunkwater
----
Texas
Gordon hops on one leg and holds to Wayne who carries him easily so and they stop among trees afrost and eerie to hide. Many screams of maddened men do go past unnoticing dear Gordon and Wayne fearing for their lives. Soon it becomes clear and they make way slow because Gordon’s pain holds them. Gordon says: Just leave me right here.
But Wayne ignores him and carries on strong til they reach below where two horses don’t wait. Instead they die by hand of Blackfire’s song. His minions sing peaceful at salvation’s gate before they shut it. Gordon and Wayne watch.
What now? Gordon asks.
Escape at any cost.
Wayne rests Gordon between trees and says: Stay awake. He sprints toward cultists with teeth bared and rips out one throat and another. They scream with what blood splattering. One is scared to lift his weapon and runs fast for the encampment. A shot explodes through Wayne’s heart and he falls.
Blackfire rests beside dark blood. He runs a stake through to murder Wayne’s heart. He is paralyzed and Blackfire says loud: Someone bring me a blade. We have some work to finish. The work of the Lord.
A crowd makes haste bringing a blade while Blackfire jerks Wayne by his hair and the congregation sings merry: Feed us him doomed to damnation.
Across a rock Wayne’s head is set to die and Blackfire raises the blade. From darkness yonder a shot hits Blackfire’s shoulder and the blade flies and another shot strikes a cultist who wanders. The torch he carries hits the ground and then several others follow so the night is black. Silence stands for a spell.
Gordon stirs when a lantern glows and heels shuffle and clack in the dirt. This soul pulls the stake from Wayne’s chest and waits for him to rise. He coughs hard and rolls about til he finds energy enough to sit and say: Goddamn my heart hurts. I need a drink.
The man hands whiskey by the flask to Wayne but he refuses it and the man says: Boy, thought ye wanted a sip. Reckon it’s to yer likin if ye know what I’m getting at.
Wayne takes it and draws heartily and within moments it’s empty and shut. The wounds heal there. Wayne says: Thank you kindly. But we need to get the hell away from here before they come back.
Hop on back my horse and let’s go then, he says.
I’ll just come on my own. Take the sheriff or he’ll die.
Wayne gets Gordon unconscious from the tree and sets him on back the horse. The man mounts and before riding says: Good luck deputy.
Wayne starts digging fast because these seconds do count as the sun rises and day breaks between leaves. For now this shallow bed is the sleep of dreams.
- - -
Night falls and ground breaks. The dirt shifts aside and Wayne rises along this frozen section of land. The man says: Found a place to hide I see.
Who are you? Wayne asks.
When the sun goes down I’ll be whoever ye want me to be. But why don’t you call me Monk for the sake of simplicity.
Reckon that’s fine by me, Wayne says and loads his guns.
Monk watches and takes a swig from the flask.
That whiskey in there this time? Wayne asks.
No it ain’t. It’s whore’s blood.
How long you been following me?
About everywhere for a while I reckon. We share the same blood. I figured we both could use a friend.
Maybe so. You inclined to help me kill these sons of whores?