Superfreaks/ACRA: Superfreaks Season 2 Trade Etherback #3 (Collecting #'s 11-15)
Martin Phipps
martinphipps2 at yahoo.com
Wed Jun 13 05:58:59 PDT 2007
Michael King, Mary Bailey and Lana Lewis: crime scene
investigators. John Phelps, Mark Johnston and Tom
Jackson: police officers. Jack Greenspan and Edward
Bailey: medical examiners. Alan Russell and Cliff
Murdock: lawyers. These are the men and women who
are truly our last line of defense. But what about
the capes whose cases they have to investigate?
Should they be considered a help or a hindrance?
SUPERFREAKS SEASON 2 #11
GENESIS
PART I
9:15 am
"Who the Hell are you?"
"Ethan Stanley Boyle."
"Where's the other guy?"
"He can't be here."
"Why not?"
"Legal reasons. But don't worry." Ethan grabbed
hold of his cigarette and exhaled some smoke. "I'm
just as good."
"Really?"
"Of course. I'm E. Stan Boyle."
"Not... the other guy."
"No, E. Stan Boyle."
"Not... the other guy."
"No, E. Stan Boyle."
"Not... the other guy."
"No, I'm E. Stan Boyle."
"Fair enough. The girl is in her room."
"Which room is that?"
"The one where all the screaming is coming from."
Ethan nodded. "Over there then."
Ethan opened the door and went in. Young Stephanie
Baxter was strapped to her bed.
"You!" she said when she saw Ethan. Her eyes were
solid black with no discernable pupils.
"Yes, daemon, it is me."
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Do you think you can exorcize
me from this girl?"
"No," Ethan said as he pulled out a gun. "I'm going
to destroy you by killing the girl."
"You wouldn't!"
"Don't count on it!" He pulled the trigger three
times. There were three distinct bangs heard.
The daemon resumed laughing. "Blanks! I knew you
were too much of a pussy to kill a little girl!"
"Don't be so sure," Ethan said. He grabbed the girl
and pulled her out of the bed, breaking the straps in
the process. He then threw her out the window. They
were five storeys up.
The girl landed safely on a huge airbag that had
been placed in the street.
Ethan pulled out his cell phone and quick dialed his
friend. "Chuck? Talk to me!"
>>The girl is no longer the daemon's host.<<
"Are you sure?"
>>Absolutely. Because I am now possessing your
friend.<<
"What?"
>>And now you will go to jail for the murder of
Stephanie Baxter.<<
Ethan ran to the window and looked down to see Chuck
Huxley smashing Stephanie Baxter's head on the road.
10:58 am
Detective John Phelps was pissed.
"We have witnesses that saw you throw the girl out
the window!" he said.
"The girl landed safely on the airbag!" Ethan
insisted.
"So you say. Maybe you missed. Maybe the girl
bounced off the bag and hit her head on the ground."
"That's not how it happened!"
"Then tell me what happened!"
"It was my friend, Charles Huxley."
"You had an accomplice?"
"No! He was possessed by a daemon!"
John rolled his eyes. "You think I haven't heard
that one before?"
"Perhaps this time it's true," Detective Michael
King said. "I just finished examining the body: death
was from blunt force trauma to the head, consistent
with her head hitting the ground."
John nodded. "Right. She fell and hit her head
after Ethan here threw her out the window."
"Unlikely. From five stories up, you would have
expected other bones to be broken. Also there was
blood spatter on the ground."
"So?"
"So that means she hit the ground more than once.
That's not consistent with falling from a great
height. It's consistent with somebody repeatively
smashing her head on the ground."
"What? You mean there'd be no blood spatter if she
had just hit the ground?"
Michael shook her head. "No. If she hits her head
then the skull gets crushed and she bleeds out but if
she is hit repeatively then blood is spattered over a
wider area."
"Okay."
"I also found a depression in the air bag consistent
with the girl hitting it from five stories up. I
found hairs on the airbag that I expect will match the
victim. There would appear to have been a struggle in
which the girl was pulled off the airbag and smashed
against the ground."
John nodded. "Okay. Fair enough." He turned to
face Ethan again. "So who's this Charles Huxley?"
"He's my friend. We've been working together for
years."
"As?"
"Daemon hunters. I can tell when a person is
possessed by a daemon."
John laughed. "Really? And so you go around
killing people who are daemon possessed?"
"It's not like that. We're trying to scare the
daemons out of the host body. If the host dies then
the daemon dies."
"So, like I said, you're killing the hosts to get to
the daemons."
Ethan shook his head. "That's not necessary. When
the daemons leave the host's body they need to find
another host to occupy or they'll die."
"How long do they have?" Michael asked.
"It depends on the daemon. Stronger daemons can
last longer."
"But in a city like Pepperton, isn't it easy for a
daemon to find a new host?"
Ethan frowned. "Normally a daemon will enter a body
when it is asleep."
"But your friend Charles wasn't sleeping, was he?"
Ethan shook his head. "No... and that's the part
that was weird. Most daemons aren't strong enough to
possess a body while it is still awake."
"How long have you been after these daemons?"
"A few years. But people have been daemon hunting
for centuries. We don't know where they first came
from but we have reason to believe that they are a
dying breed and that there are very few of them left."
Michael nodded. "Natural selection."
"Excuse me?"
"Daemon hunters have been killing daemons for
centuries. The weak ones were killed first. The ones
that survived were the ones that broke the rules."
"I guess."
"Wait," John said. He pulled John to one side.
"Are you seriously buying this crap?"
Michael smiled. "I'm keeping an open mind. We do
know somebody who would be an expert regarding these
matters."
PART II
1:01 pm (the same day)
"Mary Jones?"
Mary looked up and saw Lana Lewis carrying a
cardboard box.
"Actually, I call myself Mary Bailey now," she said.
"Right. You got married. How is that going?"
"Fine. I'm pregnant."
"Right. Michael told me." She juggled the box.
"So... where do I put this?"
Mary tilted her head to one side. "Over there.
That desk is yours."
"Okay." She put the box down. "So we're
neighbours."
Mary sighed. "Great."
Lana frowned. "Are you okay with this?"
"Okay with what?"
"Me coming in here and becoming a senior CSI based
on my FBI experience."
"Why would I have a problem with that?"
"You tell me."
Mary smiled. "You don't think I'm being friendly
enough."
Lana sighed. "We're going to be working together.
I was thinking we could be friends. If we work on
cases together then it would be easier for you to take
time off when you have your baby. And then you can do
the same for me."
"You're going to have a baby too?"
Lana smiled. "No. Not yet. But I might. Michael
and I are going to get married. He did tell you,
didn't he?"
"He told me."
"So I figure we can think of ourselves as family."
"Family?"
"Sure. We were already coleagues in the
investigation business. Now we're coworkers. Soon we
will be friends... hopefully. Maybe later we will
raise our kids together."
Mary nodded and smiled. "That doesn't sound so
bad."
"I would have thought it was a pretty good deal,
actually."
They both laughed.
1:30 pm
"Does his story agree with what you know about
daemonic possession, professor?" Detective Michael
King asked Pepperton University Paranormal Studies
Professor Vincent Stomper.
Stomper nodded. "I've heard of daemon hunting
cults."
"Now hold on," Ethan said. "I don't think cult is
the right term. These daemons are real."
"I didn't say they weren't," Stomper said.
"So how do we fight it?" Michael asked.
"I have just the thing," Stomper said, "but it's not
here. Perhaps you can come with me to my apartment.
I live right off campus."
"I don't think that would be a problem," Michael
said.
1:45 pm
"Excuse me?" Doctor Richard Reed asked the stranger
in his lab. "Can I help you?"
"Ah! Doctor Reed! I'm Peter Hanks." They shook
hands. "I'm here to get a sample from the body of the
alien who Extreme killed. The one from the
Anti-Dimension. The one that shot beams of high
energy particles from his hands."
"For what reason?"
Doctor Hanks hesitated. "Can I speak to you frankly
as one scientist to another?"
"Sure."
"Alright. I was thinking that a sample of the alien
DNA could be used to determine if it could be possible
to enhance an ordinary human being and give him the
ability to resist injury, spontaneously heal, gain
super strength, perhaps even flight and then perhaps
this process could be duplicated and we could create
an entire army of such fighters."
Doctor Reed nodded his head for a moment. "Oh,
well, alright then. That seems perfectly in order.
Nothing wrong with that. Go ahead."
1:59 pm
"So what's this?" Michael asked.
"This is the spirit sword," Professor Stomper said
as he swung it in front of his guests. "It looks like
an ordinary sword."
"But it's not an ordinary sword, is it?" Ethan
asked.
"No. It isn't." Stomper swung the sword at Ethan
and the sword passed harmlessly through him."
"Holy shit!" Detective John Phelps said. "What the
Hell did you just do?"
"Relax," Stomper said. "This blade doesn't harm
people. It only harms the daemons that possess them."
"I had heard of such a sword," Ethan said. "I
thought it was a myth."
"It's not a myth," Stomper said. "And now, it's
yours."
"Mine?"
"Of course. You are the one who has the ability to
spot those who are possessed by daemons. It is only
logical that you should be the one to weild the
sword."
"Now hold on," John said. "This man is a suspect in
a murder investigation."
Michael sighed. "He's the one man who can identify
Charles Huxley," Michael said, "and the man best
suited to kill the daeomn inside of him."
PART III
2:47 pm
"Hey," Officer Tom Jackson said. "Is that him? Is
that Charles Huxley?"
Officer Mark Johnston looked through the windshield
of their squad car. "Looks like him. I'll pull over
so you can talk to him."
"Hey! Charles Huxley!" Tom said.
Charles turned and looked at him. His eyes were
black with no discernable pupils.
"Holy shit!"
Charles picked up the squad car and threw it across
the road and into the building on the other side.
"Mark! Mark! Are you okay?"
Mark nodded. "Yeah. Good thing we had on our
seatbelts, eh?" There was a bit of blood on his head
from where the frame of the car hit him as it crushed
down on him. "I think we'd better radio for back up."
2:59 pm
"Tom and Mark said they spotted Charles Huxley on
main street," Detective John Phelps said. "And they
said he lifted their car and threw it across the
road."
"Are they okay?" Detective Michael King asked.
"Just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious."
"This is bad," Professor Stomper said from the back
of the car.
"Thank you, Psychic Girl!" Ethan said with dripping
sarcasm.
Stomper glared at the daemon hunter next to him and
sighed. "Perhaps I am not needed on this quest," he
said.
"On the contrary," Michael said, "we need as many
experts as we can get today." He pointed to an
overturned squad car. "Is that them?" he asked.
"I hope so," John said. "I hadn't heard of any
other squad cars being thrown about."
John pulled the car over to where Tom and Mark were.
"Which way did he go?"
"That way," Tom said. "Be careful."
"Shouldn't the Extreme Force Six be involved in
this?" Mark asked.
"By all means contact them," Michael said. "We
might need them. But I don't want to wait around.
We've got a plan."
John rolled his eyes. Attacking a daemon with a
magic sword that isn't there: great plan. He drove
off in the direction Tom had indicated.
3:05 pm
"Is that him?" Michael asked.
"That's him," Ethan said. "He's possessed by the
daemon all right."
"Drive up next to him," Michael told John.
"And if he picks up the car?"
Michael nodded. "Ethan, you'd better act fast."
"Got ya."
John grimaced. "Sounds like suicide to me. Why
don't we just stop here and draw our guns?"
"The daemon won't care if we kill Charles: he'll
just find another host. We have to strike while he's
still in him."
"Fine," John says, "but I'll include my
recommendation in the report."
"Duly noted," Michael said.
John pulled the car up next to Charles and Ethan got
out to face him. Charles' eyes were still black with
no discernable pupils.
"You again," the daemon in Charles had him say.
"You can't hurt me."
"Oh yes I can!" Ethan said as he raised his sword.
"What's that supposed to be?" the daemon asked.
"Your destruction!"
Ethan struck Charles body. The daemon screamed.
Charles eyes went back to normal.
"What happened?" Charles asked.
"Don't worry," Ethan said. "It's going to be okay."
"Actually, it's not that simple," Michael said.
"We're going to have to take him back to the station
and charge you with the murder of Stephanie Baxter."
"What?" Ethan and Charles both asked.
"The law doesn't recognize daemonic possession. "We
will, however, give you a full psychological
evaluation with a mind towards having you plead
temporary insanity. I take it you have no memory of
what happened?"
"What's he talking about?" Charles asked. "How did
I get here?"
John sighed. "Is there any chance that this could
all be an elaborate hoax?" he asked.
"That's for a jury to decide." He spoke to Charles.
"Get in," he said.
Ethan nodded. "They're right. Come on, Charles.
I'll slide over. Vincent, do you mind making room for
us."
"Not at all," Vincent said. "It's not that far to
the station, after all."
6:25 pm
>>I'm back with Harry Roy, former member of the
Electric Youth as Arrow Boy and recently released from
Pepperton State Prison for the murder of Edward
Alexander Goodhead. Harry, what's next for you?<<
>>No superheroics, that's for sure, Larry! I've put
that behind me! I've finally realized that there's no
glory to be found in taking the law into your own
hands! It's up to regular law enforcement to enforce
the law!<<
>>Have you considered a career in legitamate law
enforcement, what with your experience as a costumed
adventurer?<<
>>Larry, with all due respect, I doubt if they would
take me seriously. What I did would hardly be
considered a righteous shooting after all. I shot a
man in cold blood. The fact that he was a known
criminal who had killed somebody close to me doesn't
change what I did.<<
Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior pressed the mute
button on his remote control. "No, it doesn't," he
said. He pointed to the now silenced Harry Roy. "You
will pay for what you did to my father! That I
swear!"
6:30 pm
Somewhere in Pepperton, an old man woke up. His
eyes were black with no discernable pupils. He sat up
and looked out the window.
"That... hurt," he said, "but what doesn't kill us
just makes us stronger. And next time there won't be
anything that will stop me!"
SUPERFREAKS SEASON 2 #12
APOCALYPSE
PART I
Ten years ago
"Dad?"
"What is it, son?"
"What do you do?"
"Excuse me?"
"What's your job?"
"Oh," Edward Alexander Goodhead said. "I'm a
businessman."
"What kind of business do you do?"
Goodhead's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to
know?"
"My teacher asked me to tell you--"
Goodhead grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Why
would your teacher want to know my business? Who is
she working for? What could they possibly hope to
gain by--?"
"Dad!" young Edward said, now clearly frightened and
with his eyes welling with tears. "She asked the same
question to everybody. It's our homework assignment!"
"Ha!" Goodhead said with a laugh. "A clever scheme
indeed! Your teacher asked everyone, did she? But
does she really care what the other kid's parents do?
I don't think so! This is some mad plot to meddle
into my business! Well you can tell her that it won't
work! No outsiders may interfere in the Goodhead
family business! Do you understand me, son? Nobody!"
"Yes, Dad," young Edward said. A single tear leaked
from his right eye.
"Enough of that!" Goodhead said. "Be a man! My
God, you'll be in high school soon! It is up to you
to carry on the Goodhead family name! You must not
embarrass this family! Do you understand me?"
"Yes, father!"
Goodhead nodded and released his son from his grip.
"Good," he said, "no begone with you. I have work to
do."
Young Edward peered over his father's desk. Upon
seeing this, Goodhead immediately slapped him across
the face.
"I know what you are thinking! I will not have you
spying on me for your teacher! That is final!"
Young Edward nodded sadly and then he meekly walked
back to his room.
One year ago
"Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior?"
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm Jeff Munn. I worked for your father."
"So?" Edward shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not
interested in my father's business."
"You're going to have to start being interested in
it," the man said, "because it is all yours now."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father is dead."
"Dead? How?"
"Shot in the head with an arrow."
"Shot in the head with an arrow? Who would do such
a thing?"
The man shrugged his shoulders. "Most likely the
assassination was arranged by the Extreme Force Six."
"The Extreme Force Six? Why would they have him
killed?"
"Some of your father's business practices required
him to venture out of the bounds of the law."
"And for that they killed him?"
The man nodded. "You will be trained in your
father's business. It is what he would have wanted.
That way you will be able to one day use the resources
you now have to one day get your revenge."
One week ago
"It does not serve our company's best interests to
fund this kind of research," Jeff Munn argued at a
Goodhead Corporation company meeting.
Goodhead Junior was nonplused. "This is my company,
Mr. Munn. I will do with it as I see fit."
"With all do respect, we on the board here have the
necessary business know how to keep this company
afloat."
Goodhead Junior smiled. "I remember you, yourself,
telling me that my father would have wanted me to run
this company as I saw fit."
"Yes, but--"
"Are you now telling me that I am nothing but a
figurehead? A patsy who will continue business as
usual so that you all may continue to finance your own
schemes?"
"Our so-called schemes are what is keeping this
company solvent!"
"Do you respect my authority or not?"
"I--"
"Answer the question!"
"Please understand, we are here to help you to--"
Goodhead Junior pulled out a gun and shot Jeff Munn
between the eyes. He fell backward onto the floor.
"That was a yes-no question," he said. He looked at
the other members of the board. "This company is not
a democracy. People here are to do as I say or," -He
waved his gun at the body of Jeff Munn- "face early
retirement." He smiled. "This meeting is over."
His entire board of directors spontaneously
applauded him.
"Yes, yes, very nice. Now somebody clean up that
mess!"
Today, 9:15 am
"Care to tell me what you think?" Pepperton Police
Detective Mary Bailey asked.
"Is this a test?" Pepperton Police Detective Lana
Lewis asked back.
Mary shrugged her shoulders. "It's our first case
together. I thought I'd give you the opportunity to
examine the crime scene ahead of me."
"Well, if you put that way, it sounds like you're
doing me a favour."
Mary smiled. "Well?"
Lana nodded. "First of all, this isn't the primary
crime scene. This is a body dump."
"And why do you say that?"
"There's very little blood and none of it is
splatter. It looks as though somebody shot this man
in the head and dumped the body here for us to find."
Mary nodded. "I agree."
Lana smiled. "So what do I win?"
10:58 am
"What do we have here?" Pepperton Police Detective
Michael King asked.
"His name is Jeff Munn," Pepperton Chief Coroner
Jack Greenspan said. "Mary and Lana brought him in."
"What do we know about him?"
"We know that he worked for Goodhead Corporation.
He was a member of their board of directors."
"Goodhead Corporation? As in Edward Alexander
Goodhead?"
"That's right."
Michael nodded. "Alright. I'm officially taking
over this case."
"Is that wise?"
Michael sighed. "If Goodhead Junior is anything
like his father then he isn't going to like anybody
snooping around his business."
Jack gave him a disapproving look. "They're adults,
Michael. And Lana is a former FBI agent."
"And Lana is going to be my wife. It's natural for
me to want to protect her."
"She might not want her protecting her."
"Tough. I'm also her immediate superior. If she
wants to complain then she can speak to John but then
he'll tell her that it is _my_ decision who gets
assigned to what case."
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Just as long as you
know you won't be getting any tonight. That's all."
1:23 pm
"I'm afraid if you want to come in here and treat
this company as a crime scene," Goodhead Junior told
him, "then you are going to have to get a warrant."
Michael was non-plused. "And waht if we find
something? It would reflect badly on you if you were
to officially go on record as being unco-operative."
Goodhead Junior smiled. "I'll take that chance. We
Goodheads place a high regard on privacy."
Michael nodded. "Alright. But I'll be back
tomorrow with that warrant."
"Perhaps you will. Perhaps you won't. This company
makes a significant contribution to this city's
economy and I doubt if any judge in this city will
issue that warrant."
Michael nodded. "I see. Well then, I'll be sure to
investigate as to exactly what 'contributions' this
company has made, specifically in regards to any that
may have been deposited directly into the bank
accounts of any judge who would refuse to issue me a
warrant."
"Are we done here?" Goodhead asked coldly.
"I think so. For now."
Goodhead nodded. "Fine. The way out is the same
way you came in."
Michael nodded. "Alright." He left.
A few minutes later, Doctor Peter Hanks walked into
his office.
"Did the cop see you?" Goodhead asked.
"No," he said.
"You're sure?"
"Your men had me locked away the whole time he was
here."
Goodhead nodded. "Good. Because I don't want
anyone to guess what we're up to. Is the formula
ready?"
Peter nodded. "It's ready for human testing. All
we need is a volunteer."
"You have a volunteer," Goodhead said. "Me."
PART II
One week later, 9:31 am
Harry Roy was walking along the road, minding his
own business, when somebody in black body armour and a
black mask flew down and grabbed him off the road.
The flying man held Harry in the air well above the
streets below.
"What the Hell?"
"Don't give me that crap!" the man in the mask said.
"You knew this was coming!"
"Knew what was coming?"
"You killed my father!"
"I didn't kill your father!"
"Didn't you?"
"Well--"
"Do you even know who I am?"
"Who are you?"
The mask retracted so Harry could see his face.
"I'm Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior."
"Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior?"
He nodded. "Edward Goodhead was my father."
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
"Okay so I did kill your father."
"That's what I thought!"
"Wait! Your father killed my mentor! I killed him
out of revenge! If you kill me now then that would be
no different from what I did!"
Goodhead shrugged his shoulders. "So? I'm the bad
guy, remember? I'm supposed to be able to kill
without remorse."
Goodhead threw Harry down to the streets below...
but he was caught by Extreme just in time. Extreme
carefully placed Harry safely on the ground and then
threw up to where Goodhead had been hovering.
"You've been a bad boy, Goodhead," Extreme said.
"Bite me!" Goodhead told him.
Extreme just smiled. "You know, Goodhead, you just
tried to kill my friend here and he's going to testify
to that effect so, whatever else happens today, you're
going to go to prison for a long time."
"Ha! Your friend killed my father and was out after
only a year!"
Extreme shrugged his shoulders. "Some people would
call that a long time. In any case, there are two
ways this can go down: the easy way or the hard way.
Trust me, you don't want it to go down the hard way."
Goodhead snorted. "Don't be so sure. My powers go
beyond flight! I'm also super strong! Maybe strong
enough to beat you."
Extreme sighed. "Alright then. The hard way it
is."
10:22 am
"What the Hell happened to him?" a nurse at
Pepperton General Hospital asked.
"He resisted arrest," Extreme explained.
"Amazing!" Doctor Joel Horner said. "He appears to
be healing right before our eyes!"
Extreme nodded. "Then we've got a problem. We're
going to have to move him to a secure facility."
"I'll make arrangements," Detective Michael King
told him. "There's no doubt a suitable cell waiting
for him at Pepperton State Prison." He sighed. "Are
you absolutely sure that the amount of force you
applied was necessary?"
"If I had applied more force than necessary,"
Extreme told him, "then he'd be dead now."
Michael nodded. "No doubt."
"We should leave the patient to rest," Doctor Joel
Horner said. "It's only right."
Michael nodded. "Fine. We'll have two officers
stationed outside the door."
10:55 am
An old man wearing sunglasses wandered into the
hospital and spoke to the lady at the reception desk.
"I'm looking for Edward Alexander Goodhead's room,"
he said.
"Room 301," she said.
"Thank you."
The old man took the elevator to the third floor.
Officers Mark Johnston and Tom Jackson were standing
in front of it. He walked up to them.
"Excuse me but you can't go in there," Mark said.
"That boy is my grandson," the old man said.
"I don't think so," Mark said.
"What's with the sunglasses?" Tom asked.
The old man pushed the two officers aside and went
into the room.
"Stop!" Mark said.
The old man took off his sunglasses. His eyes were
solid black with no discernable pupils. Suddenly the
pupils faded and his pupils returned.
Mark and Tom followed the old man into the room.
"Where am I?" the old man asked them.
Suddenly, Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior woke up.
His eyes were solid black with no discernable puils.
PART III
One week later, 9:01 am
Judge Kevin Matthews addressed the jury at the
inquest into the death of Edward Alexander Goodhead
Junior.
"This is not a trial," he said. "The members of the
Extreme Force Six are not to be found guilty or not
guilty. Our purpose here is to simply determine how
Mr. Goodhead died and what the circumstances were.
There is no question of Mr. Goodhead not having died
at the hands of the Extreme Force Six. That is not in
dispute. The verdict you will render today is whether
the act commited by the Extreme Force Six was
justifiable, excusable or criminal.
"I remind you of the meaning of these three terms.
A justifiable act is one which is commited when no
other option was available, say for example in order
for the perpetrator to save his own life or the lives
of others: acts commited in self defense fall under
this definition. An excusable act is one which is
commited under duress and under circumstances in which
one can understand and excuse the resultant act: this
includes any act commited when the perpetrator is in
legitamate fear for his or her own safety or the
safety of others. Such a fear need not seem
reasonable after the fact: this then includes cases of
temporary insanity. Finally, a criminal act is one
which is, in fact, a crime. It need not be a
premeditated act. If you find the death of Edward
Alexander Goodhead to be a criminal act then this case
will go onto trial at which point the question of
whether or not it was premeditated would be
considered.
"As this is an inquest and not a trial, no witness
is to be considered on trial and cannot be compelled
to answer any questions that do not have any direct
bearing on the case. The witnesses are, nevertheless,
to be considered under oath and can be charged with
perjury should they be found to knowingly provide
false testimony. Pepperton District Attorney Alan
Russell and Pepperton Public Defender Roger Roeper
each have the right to call witnesses to this inquest.
"Mr. Russell, you may call your first witness."
"Thank you, your honour. I call Extreme to the
stand."
Extreme got up and literally glided over to the
witness box. The bailiff swore him in.
"Mr. Russell, before you begin, I must remind you
not to ask Extreme any questions about his personal
life. The remaining members of the Extreme Force Six
have already vouched as to his identity."
"Understood, your honour." He walked over to the
witness. "Extreme, could you tell us in your own
words what happened on thst afternoon one week ago?"
Extreme nodded. "I had just returned to Extreme
Headquarters. Water Lord, Amazing Woman, Weapon
Alpha, the Human Spider and Mr. G were all there.
Suddenly, somebody crashed through the wall. It was
Goodhead."
"Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior?"
"Yes. We had fought once before, that very morning.
He had tried to kill Harry Roy and I stopped him. He
ended up in Pepperton General Hospital. And yet here
he was, stronger than ever.
"I under estimated him. He defeated me easily. My
teammates all rushed to fight him but, even together,
they were no match for him. It didn't make any sense.
Then Professor Vincent Stomper arrived with Ethan
Stanley Boyle."
"Can you explain to us who these people were?"
"Yes. Professor Stomper is a professor of
paranormal phenomena at Pepperton State University: he
had helped us out once before with a case involving
two high school girls whom the local police suspected
of being involved in witchcraft. Ethan Stanley Boyle
we had never met before but Stomper vouched for him:
he was, apparently, a daemon hunter and he carried
what he called a 'spirit sword'."
"So Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior was now a
daemon?"
"They said he was possessed by a daemon, yes.
Professor Stomper claimed that he had sensed the
merger of the daemon with Goodhead and knew that their
combined power would be a real threat so he contacted
Mr. Boyle and the two of them came by Extreme Force
Headquarters right away and had arrived only minutes
after Goodhead himself. Boyle claimed that his sword
would stop the daemon but when he swung his sword at
Goodhead, he only laughed at him."
"So the sword had no effect on him."
"Supposedly it did. Goodhead became weaker.
Stomper told us that we would have to kill Goodhead to
kill the daemon inside of him and that this was the
only way. Certainly there seemed to be no point in
subduing him: Stomper told us that he would only be
weak initially after being struck by the sword and
that he would be back to full strength within
minutes."
"So what did you do?"
"We piled on on. Fists, feet, retractable claws,
webbing, we threw everything we had at him." He
looked over at the jury. "When we were finished, it
was quite clear that he wasn't getting up."
Alan Russell nodded. "Thank you. No further
questions."
"You may step down," the judge told him.
The remaining members of the Extreme Force Six were
then questioned, one at a time, as were Professor
Stomper, Ethan Stanley Boyle and Harry Roy. The
officers involved in the Stephanie Baxter murder case,
Tom Jackson, Mark Johnston, John Phelps and Michael
King were also questioned.
"Detective King," Alan Russell said, "Professor
Stomper claimed that killing Mr. Goodhead was the only
option that they had. Do you agree with this claim?"
"I trust Professor Stomper's judgement in this
matter," Michael said.
"But it wasn't the daemon who would have wanted
revenge against Extreme but Edward Goodhead himself.
If it was the daemon who was in control then why would
they have gone to Extreme Force Headquarters?"
"I believe Professor Stomper already answered that
question."
"I am now asking for your opinion."
Michael nodded. "As Professor Stomper said, the two
of them may ahve formed a kind of symbiotic
realtionship: the daemon may have at all cost wanted
to keep control of Goodhead because he was so powerful
and Goodhead would have actually wanted to be the
daemon's host because the daemon made _him_ more
powerful. The question of who was actually in control
would have ultimately been irrelevant because they
were now acting as a single entity, neither of them
wanted to be separated from the other. And together,
they were a grave threat indeed and, as Professor
Stomper correctly surmised, would have remained a
great threat until they were both dead."
"In your opinion."
"In my opinion, of course. You _did_ ask for my
opinion."
"So I did."
"No further questions."
"You may step down," the judge told him.
He got up and returned to where he had been sitting.
"Are there any more witnesses to be called?" the
judge asked.
"No, your honour."
The judge nodded. "Very well then." He turned to
face the jury. "You will now deliberate based on what
you have heard. You will be given as much time as you
need to reach your decision while you are sequestered
in the jury room. Bailiff, please escort the jury
outside."
"Yes, your honour," the jury said.
The jury were brought to their room to deliberate.
Extreme went to speak to Michael.
"Thanks again," he told him.
"No problem," Michael said. "I was only telling
them what I believed to be the truth."
"Are you quite positive this will go our way?"
Michael thought for a moment. "There's no question
that the Extreme Force Six was attacked and that you
were acting in self defense. The question comes down
to whether or not you were ligitamately in danger. I
think that the evidence precludes the fling of any
criminal charges."
Extreme nodded. "Let's hope the jury agrees."
The jury came out again after only about a half an
hour.
"Have you reached a verdict?" Judge Matthews asked.
"We have," the jury foreman said.
"Could you hand the verdict to the Bailiff?"
The jury foreman handed the verdict to the Bailiff
and the Bailiff handed the verdict to the judge.
"I see," he said. "Please read the verdict so that
the court may hear it."
"We find the death of Edward Alexander Goodhead
Junior to be justifiable."
Roger Roeper breathed a sigh of relief as did almost
everybody in the courtroom.
"That's good right?" Extreme asked Michael King.
"Absolutely," Michael said. "Justifiable is much
better than excusable because it would now be much,
much harder for Goodhead Corporation to sue the
Extreme Force Six for wrongful death. He did, after
all, attack you in your own headquarters and cause
considerable damage. If anything, you should think
about suing them."
"Don't think we won't," Water Lord said from the
back of the courtroom, his powerful hearing having
picked up their conversation.
"The city will also file criminal charges," Alan
Russell said, "against anyone responsible for the
human experimentation that led to Goodhead getting his
powers."
"Is that sort of human experimentation illegal?"
Extreme asked.
Michael nodded. "It is if we can show that they
knew what Goodhead was capable of and what he might do
if he had the powers."
Alan Russell nodded. "It would be the same if they
had handed Goodhead a gun."
"We could get them for conspiracy," Michael
explained.
"Good luck with that."
"Thanks." Michael turned to look at Water Lord.
"And good luck with the lawsuit."
Water Lord just grunted in reply.
SUPERFREAKS SEASON 2 #13
"OPERATION SECRET GALACTIC CRISIS-WAR OF
INFINITELY LEGENDARY STORM 2 TIE IN"
9:30 am
[There's a bomb on a bus.]
What?
[There's a bomb on a bus.]
"Hello?"
[I'm in your head.]
Pepperton Police Detective Michael King was not used
to hearing voices in his head.
[There's a bomb on a bus.]
He thought only crazy people heard voices in their
heads.
[It's set to go off.]
He didn't think he was crazy.
[What do you do, Mike? What do you do?]
"Where is the bus?"
[Oh but that would be too easy.]
"Give me something."
[How about a name?]
"Okay."
[Tim Crouch.]
"Who's he?"
[He's the driver of the bus. Find him and you find
the bomb.]
Michael left his office and went to look for Edward
Bailey.
"I need you to find somebody for me."
"Who?"
"Tim Crouch."
"Who's he?"
"A bus driver. I need you to find out what bus he
drives."
"Does he drive a city bus here in Pepperton?"
"I don't know. Check city buses first and then
Greyhound buses."
"Alright."
Edward did as he was told and eventually he found a
match.
"Tim Crouch is a driver for Greyhound bus lines bus
number 1862."
"What's it's route?"
"Cross country from here to Orange County,
California."
"Where would it be right now?"
"According to their schedule they'll be leaving the
station right at ten o'clock."
Michael grimaced. "It's almost ten o'clock now.
Thanks."
10:02 am
Michael drove down to the Greyhound bus station and
managed to catch the bus just as it was coming out of
the station. He stood in the road in fron of the bus
and waved his badge. The bus stopped. He went to
speak to the driver.
"What the Hell is your problem?" the driver asked
him.
"There's a bomb on this bus and it's set to go off,"
Michael told him.
"There is a bomb on this bus," one of the passengers
said, "but you're too late: it's already started."
The passenger pointed to one of the TV screens on the
bus that was playing the movie Catwoman.
1:02 pm
"Do you mind telling me just what happened this
morning?" Detective John Phelps asked him.
"It seemed as though I was getting a tip."
"A tip? From where?"
Michael sighed. "It was a voice in my head."
"A voice in your head? You can't be serious."
"I know it sounds crazy."
"It _is_crazy."
"But, John, think about all the things we've seen
these past couple of years."
"So? If I believe you when you say you hear voices
in your head then I'm going to have to believe every
lunatic in the assylum."
"I'm not crazy."
"Michael, _nobody_ thinks they're crazy. Sometimes
it's because they _are_ crazy."
Just then a figure appeared amongst them. He was a
medium height, thick set, hairy man who appeared to be
in his early forties.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It was me."
"What was you?" John asked.
"I was the voice in his head."
"Who are you?" Michael asked.
"I am... the Beyonitor."
PART II
1:10 pm
"The Beyonitor?" Detective Michael King asked.
"Yes," the Beyonitor. "I have spent time monitoring
your universe from beyond and I decided it was time to
cross over."
"So you're the one who kidnapped my daughter!"
Detective John Phelps said.
"Your daughter?"
"He's John Phelps," Michael explained. "Katherine
Phelps was his daughter."
"Ah," the Beyonitor said, "little Kitty. She's a
lovely young girl. You must be so proud of her."
"I just can't tell you exactly how much it creeps me
out to hear you say that," John said.
"Why did you send me on such a wild goose chase?"
Michael asked.
"Wild goose chase?"
"Why did you make me waste my time like that?"
"Ah. I see. But I wasn't lying. There _was_ a
bomb on that bus and, alas, it had already 'gone off'
by the time you had gotten there." The Beyonitor
laughed.
"Very funny."
The Beyonitor nodded. "Yes, you're right, I must
apologize. What was very funny for me must have been
very annoying for you. How can I make it up to you?"
"Don't bother."
"I know! I will grant you a wish."
"A wish?"
"Yes. One wish."
"Fine. I wish I had a million dollars."
"Done."
"Done?"
"Absolutely. Go check your bank account."
Michael looked at John. "Are we done here?"
John nodded. "Sure. You're sane. Me? I'm not so
sure: I'm seeing god-like beings appearing out of
nowhere."
"Very funny."
1:29 pm
Michael went to the bank and checked his account.
Sure enough there was one million, two thousand three
hundred and fifty five dollars and sixty three cents
in an account which should only have had two thousand
three hundred and fifty five dollars and sixty three
cents. He went into the bank, flashed his badge and
went to see the manager.
"There's been some mistake," he told the bank
manager.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, my account says I have one million, two
thousand three hundred and fifty five dollars and
sixty-three cents. That's one million more than I had
yesterday."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Perhaps somebody transfered money into your
account."
"Could you check it for me?"
"Alright."
Michael waited in the manager's office for almost
half an hour while he and his staff looked at
paperwork regarding his account. Then the manager
came back in.
"There's no record of any transfer of one million
dollars into your account."
"So it's a mistake?"
"It would seem to be."
"Then fix it."
"It's not that simple. I can't simply take one
million dollars out of your account without knowing
where it came from."
"But if it's a computer error?"
"Then there should still be an explanation.
Computers do not make mistakes on their own. The
money _had_ to come from somewhere."
"So I couldn't take the money out?"
"No. Not under the circumstances."
"I see." Michael sighed. "How many accounts, in
total, do you ahve at this bank?"
"About two thousand."
"I see. Tell you what. Divide the one million
dollars evenly amongst the two thousand accounts here
at this bank. Then presumably where ever the money
came from they would be getting back some of their
money."
"That's logical."
"Can you do that?"
"There'd be a considerable service charge."
"Take the service charge from the one million
dollars first and then spread what's left evenly. Can
you do that?"
The bank manager nodded. "It would take a while to
do all that. We can continue looking for the glitch
in the meantime. You should have you account back to
normal by next week, with a few extra hundred dollars
in your account and our thanks."
"No problem."
2:11 pm
When Michael got back to his office, the Beyonitor
was still there.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. "I gave you one
million dollars and you gave it away!"
"It wasn't my money. It was the bank's money."
"How do you figure that?"
"I didn't put one million dollars into my account.
If I took one million dollars out then I would be
stealing from the bank."
"Not if it's your money."
"But it wasn't my money. You obviously don't
understand economics. You can't just create money,
not on paper, not electronically: it has to be backed
up by actual goods and services. Otherwise the money
is worthless and the economy grinds to a halt."
"That's not your concern."
Michael sighed. "Even if the bank had been fooled
into thinking the money was on the up and up, I would
still have known I had stolen from them."
The Beyonitor also sighed. "What do you want me to
do?"
Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. You
can try curing diseases, feeding the poor, being a
real hero instead of getting involved in mischief all
the time."
"You want me to be a hero?"
"Sure."
The Beyonitor thought for a moment. "I have an
idea."
"Great."
2:17 pm
"I'm in for ten," said Ultimate Man.
"I'll see your ten and raise you fifty," said the
Master Ninja.
"I fold," said Chesspawn, putting his cards down.
"Me too," agreed Gun Guy.
"I think you're bluffing," said Mr. Angry.
"Hey Guys," Raymond Heck said, "I'm getting this
weird feeling of deja vu."
Just then the Beyonitor appeared amongst them.
"Who are you?" asked Ultimate Man.
"What the Hell do you want?" asked Mr. Angry.
"I'm the Beyonitor and I want to join the Legion of
Extreme Fans."
"Does that mean you want to join the poker game?"
Chesspawn asked.
"I don't think you understand," the Beyonitor said.
"I am an extremely powerful being. I can make this
group into this world's premiere superteam!"
"How do you figure that?" Gun Guy asked.
"Well, for starters, do any of you people actually
have any powers?"
Mr. Angry gave him a dirty look. "Just what are you
implying?" he asked.
"Alright. Never mind then."
"Fine," the Master Ninja said with a sigh. "So what
are _your_ powers?"
"Mine is the power to do absolutely anything."
"Anything?" Master Ninja asked.
"Anything."
"Such as?"
"Absolutely anything."
"So that means you are _all_ powerful?"
"Pretty much."
"So why do you want to join this group?" Mr. Angry
asked.
"Why not?"
"That's good enough for me," Chesspawn said.
"Welcome to the Legion."
"Yeah," Gun Guy said. "You're in."
"I agree," Ultimate Man said.
Raymond Heck sighed. "Fine. But you're writing
your own roster entry."
PART III
9:15 am
"So... how do I look?" Lana Lewis asked refering to
how she looked in your wedding dress.
"Great," Mary Bailey said.
"I'm sorry I didn't come to your wedding," Lana told
her.
Mary shook her head. "Don't worry about it. We
hardly knew each other then."
"And yet now we're like sisters."
"Are we?" Mary asked with her head slightly tilted.
"Does it bother me that I said that?"
"No."
"I mean, you did agree to be my bridesmaid."
"I know."
"Do you know that's how Michael thinks of you? Like
a sister?"
Mary nodded. "Sure. It's the nature of the job:
when you're on a case, you've got each other's back.
There has to be complete trust." She sighed. "So,
no, I don't mind the analogy. It's just that we've
only been working together for a few months."
Lana nodded. "We'll also be placing trust on you
for the next two weeks."
Mary's eyes widenned. "I know. I hope we'll be
able you cope without you and Michael for two weeks."
"Maybe you can bring Edward out into the field with
you?"
"Do you think he's ready for that?"
"You should know. He's your husband."
Mary nodded. "He's been out in the field a couple
of times. I just don't know about him carrying a
gun."
"He should be alright as long as he has a uniformed
officer with him at all times."
Mary nodded. "So... are you ready?"
Lana sighed. "I think so. Give me a few minutes so
I can make my grand entrance, okay?"
9:20 am
"Is she coming or not?" Michael King asked.
Mary laughed. "She says she wants to make her grand
entrance."
The organist started to play "Here Comes the Bride".
"I guess that means she's coming," Edward Bailey
said.
"Thank you, Psychic Girl!" Mary said to her husband.
Lana did indeed walk out just then. Frank Lopez
proceeded to take pictures of her walking down the
aisle.
"Well?" Mary asked him. "What do you think?"
Michael sighed. "I can't wait for the honeymoon."
Lana took her place next to her husband-to-be.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"Thanks," she said. "You look handsome too."
The minister waited for the music to start and then
began. "We are gathered here today to join this man
and this woman in holy matrimony," he said. He then
proceeded to have the couple exchange vows and rings.
"I now declare you man and wife," he said, finally.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Michael stepped forward and gave his wife a kiss.
Lana then turned and threw the bouquet into the crowd.
It looked like John Phelp's daughter Katherine was
going to catch it but Naomi Chen, the precinct's
receptionist, deftly snatched it away, much to John's
relief.
"Good catch," he said to her.
"So I am," she said with a smile. "Are you
interested?"
John refused to answer, especially with his daughter
glaring at him.
Michael and Lana were on their way out of the church
when a now familiar figure appeared in front of them.
"You!" Michael said.
The Beyonitor nodded. "Yes, it's me."
"So. You're back."
"Yes," the Beyonitor said. "I am here to
congratulate you on your wedding."
"Well, thank you."
"And I am also here to thank you."
"For what?"
"For inspiring me to become a hero! I have finally
found somewhere where I am needed!"
"That's good to hear."
"So once again I am in your debt."
Michael nodded. "I see."
"How can I repay you?"
Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Alright then, how
about a pizza?"
Lana sighed. "Oh come on! A man with god-like
powers asks you what you want and all you want is
pizza?"
Michael smiled and grabbed her hand. "I have al I
could ever want right here."
"Fine. But maybe I want some pizza too."
"Hmm," Michael said. "Good point." He reached into
his pocket and took out his wallet. He handed the
Beyonitor ten dollars. "Tell you what. You go buy
one small pizza with that. Then you do whatever it is
you do and make enough pizzas for everyone in the
city. Feed the multitude!"
"Why stop there?" Lana asked. "Why not have him
feed the whole world? There are a lot of starving
people!"
The Beyonitor's eyes widenned. "That could take
some time," he said.
"Fine," Michael said. "Tonight you can feed all of
Pepperton and you can get round to the rest of the
world when you get round to it. Deal?"
"Deal," the Beyonitor said. "And if it all goes off
without a hitch then I can make it an annual event. A
pizza festival!"
"Fine," Michael said. "Just don't expect people to
worship you in return. If you want to do good for
people then it should do it without any strings
attached."
"Excuse me?"
"Without any pre-conditions."
"Ah, yes, I see." He waved the ten dollars. "I
will do as you ask." Then then disappeared.
Lana smiled at her husband.
"You did a good thing today. Because of you, the
whole world is going to be fed."
Michael nodded. "I just hope he makes sure to keep
all the pizzas warm. There's nothing worse than a
cold pizza."
"Ew. I know what you mean."
SUPERFREAKS SEASON 2 #14
SHRANK
PART I
9:57 am
"What do we have here?" Pepperton Detective Mary
Bailey asked.
"A guy was being mugged," Detective John Phelps told
her, "and this big guy in dirty old clothes showed up
and beat the mugger to death."
"A vigilantee, huh? Did the witness see where he
went?"
"Nope. He said it happened too fast."
"Thanks."
Mary and her husband, Edward, moved in closer to the
body. Frank Lopez was there taking pictures of the
scene. Edward had spent most of his career in the lab
and was only out helping his wife because their boss
was away.
"Awful lot of blood," Edward said.
"That's usually how it is," his wife told him.
"Looks different in photos," he said.
Mary nodded. "Smells different too."
Edward curled his nose. "I was going to say."
10:02 am
Officer Mark Johnston had just came from having
breakfast in the donut shop when a crazed man ran up
to him.
"You have to help me!" the man said as he grabbed
the officer's shirt.
"Now hold on!" Mark told him. "What's the problem?"
"I've been poisoned."
"Poisoned?"
The man nodded.
"By whom?"
"I don't know. I can guess."
"Okay," Mark said, "just slow down."
"I can't slow down!"
"Why not?"
"If I slow down then the poison will act more
quickly and I will die sooner!"
"Okay, okay, just tell me your name."
"I'm Peter Hanks."
"Alright, Peter, who would want to kill you?"
"I'm not sure."
"Do you have any enemies, Peter?"
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."
"Then why would anyone want to poison you?"
"I don't know!"
"Okay. Where do you work? What do you do?"
"I work for Goodhead Corporation."
"Goodhead Corporation?"
"Yeah. I'm the one who developed the formula that
gave Edward Alexander Goodhead Junior his powers."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"So how come you're not in jail, Peter. I mean,
Goodhead used those powers to try to kill Harry Roy.
That makes you an accomplice."
Peter nodded. "Right. I got immunity."
"Immunity? How?"
"I was given immunity from prosecution in exchange
for testimony against Goodhead Corporation."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Mark sighed. "Don't you see? If you were going to
testify against the company then people working there
would have motive to kill you, wouldn't they."
"Hey, yeah! Yeah!"
Mark nodded. "Okay. I'm going to need you to come
down to the station with me."
"No! No! It's too late for that! I'll be dead and
I won't be able to testify!"
"You'll be able to make a statement."
"You'll have nothing! There's only one thing left
for me to do!"
"What's that?"
Peter wasn't a violent man but desperate times
called for desperate measures: he hit Mark squarely in
the face and knocked him out cold with a single punch.
The poison obviously had made him stronger! Peter
grabbed the officer's gun. He noticed how big it
looked in his hand. Then he noticed how baggy his
clothes were.
"My God," he said, "the poison... it's causing me to
shrink!"
11:31 pm
"Did you examine the epithelials we found on the
victim this morning?" Mary asked her husband.
"Yeah. I even ran it through DNA."
"And?"
"They're not human?"
"Not human?"
"Nope."
"Then what are they?"
"They're Neonian."
"Neonian?"
Edward nodded. "Yep. The DNA is a perfect match to
Extreme himself."
PART II
1:02 pm
"I appreciate you coming in," Detective John Phelps
said.
"I heard that you had my DNA," Extreme said.
"Word travels quickly."
"Yeah, well, I needed to know what it was about
before I'd come down."
"Alright. So now that you know why you're here can
you tell me why your DNA was found on our murder
victim."
"I can't explain it."
"No? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I didn't kill anybody."
"Then explain to me who would have your exact same
DNA."
Extreme shrugged his shoulders. "The only way that
it could be my DNA is... if it came from my clone."
"Your clone?"
"My God. We assumed he was dead. Killed by the
killer from the Negative Dimension."
"Who?"
"Bizarre Extreme."
2:31 pm
"So did you check the DNA again?" John asked.
"The DNA is still a match," Edward told him.
"So how can we tell whether it came from Extreme or
his clone?"
Edward smiled. "There's the DNA from the nucleus.
That's a match to extreme. But then there's the
mitochondrial DNA. That's a match to the mother."
"The mother?"
Edward nodded. "Sure. At the early stages, the
clone embryo grows inside of a living woman. It is
only when the fetus is viable that it gets transfered
to an incubator, given fast acting growth hormones and
grown into an adult clone."
"My God."
"It's the only safe way for Extreme to get an
ordinary human female pregnant. That and sperm doning
I suppose."
"Too true," John said, thinking back to that time
Extreme accidentally killed a woman while having sex
with her. "So our suspect is definitely Bizarre
Extreme and not Extreme himself then?"
"That's what the evidence tells us," Edward told
him.
John nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
2:45 pm
"Frank?"
Frank Lopez looked up from his computer. "Yeah,
boss?"
"Frank, we've identified our suspect as Bizarre
Extreme."
"Okay."
"He looks exactly like Extreme but our witness said
he had a beard. Could you draw a picture of what
Extreme would look like with a beard?"
Frank smiled. "I can do better than that." Frank
called up a picture of Extreme on his computer.
"Okay," John said, "but we want a picture of him
with a beard."
Frank laughed. "Just wait." Frank imported the
Extreme photo into his paint program. "Now watch
this." Frank used the software to draw a beard onto
Extreme's picture. "How's that?"
"Great. Can you print it out for me?"
"Sure."
3:02 pm
"Thanks for waiting."
"No problem."
John showed him the picture. "We confirmed that the
attacker was Bizarre Extreme. This is what we believe
he looks like now."
Extreme nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you, but
I think I'm going to know him when I see him. He is,
after all, my clone."
"Just bring him in for us," John said. "The mugging
victim says he was only trying to help."
"I won't hurt him if I don't have to," Extreme told
him. "Bizarre Extreme is, after all, like a son to
me."
PART III
3:30 pm
"Two murder victims in one day?" temporary
replacement CSI Edward Bailey asked.
"Some days are like that," his wife Mary, a full
Pepperton City Police Detective told him.
"So what do we have this time?"
"Looks like our victim was shot as he was coming out
of his car."
"Right. I'll look around for the gun."
Mary smiled. "It's not going to be that easy," she
said. "Killers usually dump their guns in a trash can
or in a river. They don't make it that easy."
"Oh really," Edward said as he picked up what
appeared to be the murder weapon. "Then what's this?"
3:36 pm
Extreme flew down as soon as he spotted the usually
buff homeless man crouched in an alleyway.
"Bizarre?" he asked. "Is that you?"
"Father?" he asked.
Extreme nodded. "Yes. It's me."
"Don't take me back. I'm not a child. I can help
people."
Extreme raised his eyebrows: the last time he saw
Bizarre Extreme, he could barely speak.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but you don't belong out
here."
"I don't want to go back!"
"Bizarre, you killed a man."
"He was a bad man. He was hurting that man."
"That may be," Extreme said, "but it wasn't
necessary to kill him."
"I didn't mean to."
"I'm sure you didn't," Extreme said. "You see, you
don't know your own strength: you forget how fragile
these humans are. That is why you must come back with
me."
"No!"
"No! I won't go!"
Extreme sighed. "I'm afraid you're going to have
to. What you did was a crime. And even if you didn't
mean to do it, it was still wrong. You can't stay
here."
"Yes, I can! You can't make me come with you!"
"Actually, I can. Don't make me do this, Bizarre.
It doesn't have to be this way."
"Go away!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!"
Extreme sighed. "I can't do that."
"No!" Bizarre Extreme attacked him but Extreme held
him back.
"I'm stronger than you, Bizarre. You know how this
is going to end."
Bizarre got a better footing and managed to put
Extreme off balance and threw him against a wall.
"I won't go!" he said.
"Okay," Extreme said, impressed by his 'son's'
strength and determination, "but you're going to have
to kill me then. Is that what you want?"
"No."
"Then release me."
"I won't go back!"
"You will go back!"
"No!"
"Look, Bizarre, we have people there who can teach
you."
"They never taught me. They treated me as a child."
"They did try," Extreme told him, "but you've
developed since then, haven't you?"
Bizarre Extreme nodded. "I'm not stupid. I'm smart
now."
"So you are."
"I'm not a child!"
"No, and you're not going to act like one, are you?
You're going to do as I say."
Bizarre Extreme loosened his grip on his 'father'.
"Alright," he said.
"That's better. Come on. Fly back with me to
Extreme Force Headquarters. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"Alright then."
5:01 pm
"Where have you been?" Detective John Phelps asked
Officer Mark Johnston.
"Some guy attacked me. He stole my gun."
"When?"
"This morning?"
"Where have you been since then?"
"I was knocked unconscious."
"Nobody took you to a hospital?"
Mark shrugged his shoulders. "That's Pepperton for
you. Nobody wants to get involved."
"And you just got here?"
Mark nodded. "Just came to a half an hour ago.
Why?"
John sighed. "Mark, your gun has been used in a
homocide."
"No!"
"I'm afraid so. It's definitely your gun that was
used to kill Goodhead CEO Joel Byrne early this
afternoon: the bullet matches the bullet that killed
Craig Franklin a year ago. You know, the
Exterminator?"
"I remember?" Mark said. "So what happens now?"
John sighed. "I'm going to need your badge," he
told him. "Pending an investigation into this murder,
you're off the force until further notice."
SUPERFREAKS SEASON 2 #15
THE ANT-SIZED MAN
PART I
9:02 am
"Explain to me what happened, John," Detective
Michael King asked.
Pepperton City Police Detective John Phelps sighed
before answering his collegues question.
"Goodhead Corporation CEO Joel Byrne got shot a few
days ago as he was getting out of his car and
returning to work from a lunch break. The weapon used
to kill him belonged to Officer Mark Johnston."
"Is there any reason to believe that Mark was the
one who actually fired the gun?"
John shrugged his shoulders. "Mark claims that he
was unconscious at the time. He says somebody jumped
him after he had finished breakfast. He says that the
guy who jumped him must have taken his gun."
"Who did he say jumped him?"
John thought for a moment. "Peter Hanks. Mark said
he had to have been on drugs or something."
"Peter Hanks?"
"Yeah."
"He's an employee at Goodhead Corporation."
"Was. He got immunity from prosecution in the
Goodhead Junior case in exchange for his testimony
against the corporation."
"Really? And where is Peter Hanks now?"
John shrugged his shoulders. "Disappeared."
"Along with his testimony then."
"I'm afraid so."
Michael nodded. "Okay. I'll take a look at the
body before I speak to Mark."
"Okay." John smiled. "Welcome back, by the way.
Did you have a good honeymoon?"
Michael nodded. "Oh, yes, indeed, but I'm too much
of a gentleman to go into any more detail than that."
John smiled weakly. "Fair enough."
9:29 am
"Do you still have the body of Joel Byrne?" Michael
asked.
Jack Greenspan nodded. "Sure. He's right over
here." Jack pulled opened a drawer and the body was
inside. "It's your typical gunshot wound to the
head... except for one thing that was a bit odd."
"What was that?"
"The angle at which the bullet hit him."
"Explain."
"The path from the entry would to the brain made a
roughly forty-five degree angle with the horizontal,
which means that the victim was either lying on the
ground when he got shot --"
"Or the killer was very short and shot him from
below."
"Or he could have just been crouched down waiting
for the victim I suppose."
"Perhaps. Anyway, thanks."
9:52 am
"What did you notice about the man who attacked
you?"
Officer Mark Johnston looked at Detective King
suspiciously. "So you believe me when I say I was
attacked."
Michael nodded. "The doctor's report was
inconclusive: he said you'd suffered a mild concussion
but he couldn't say if you'd been unconscious or not.
But you're still innocent until proven guilty."
"Fair enough. He said his name was Peter Hanks."
"You told John that he was on drugs."
"Not on drugs. Drugged. He said somebody had
poisoned him."
"Who?"
"He wasn't sure. But then... oh God..."
"What?"
"I told him that it could have been somebody from
Goodhead who had drugged him. That must have been why
he took my gun. That's why he killed Byrne."
"Alright. What else can you tell me about Hanks."
"He was short. Really short."
"How short?"
"He couldn't have been over five feet tall."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I remember that because I thought it was
strange that somebody so short had such a strong
punch. Also, I remember him grabbing me."
"So maybe he lifted you up and that's why he seemed
short."
"No. No. He really was that short."
Michael fished through the files he had with him.
One of the files he found was Peter Hanks's employment
file that Detective Phelps had retrieved from Goodhead
Corporation a couple of days ago. He showed it to
Mark.
"It says here that Peter Hanks was five feet ten
inches tall."
"No, that can't be. I'm barely that tall myself and
I was definitely almost a foot taller than him."
Michael nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
10:12 am
"Mary?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"You investigated the crime scene where Joel Byrne
was killed."
Detective Mary Bailey nodded. "That's right.
Edward and I were both there. It was Edward who found
the gun."
"Did you find any trace of the killer at the scene?"
"No. None at all."
Michael nodded. "What we're looking for might be so
small that you could have missed it. I'm recommending
you go back to the scene with a portable vaccuum,
vaccuum all around the crime scene and sift through
what you pick up."
"Alright. Can you give me an idea what I'm looking
for?"
Michael nodded. "The killer."
PART II
10:32 am
"Doctor Leonard?"
Doctor Sameul Leonard, Pepperton City forensic
psychiatrist, looked up from his desk. "Extreme!
What brings you here?"
Extreme sighed. "Doctor Leonard, it's about Bizarre
Extreme."
"Your clone?"
"Yes. He killed a man a few days ago. I want you
to take a look at him."
"You want me to tell you if he was legally
responsible?"
"Yes."
"And if I find that he was?"
"Then I'll trust your recommendatioon and we'll do
as you suggest. Whatever that might be."
11:22 am
"Did you sift through the contents of the vaccuum?"
Mary nodded. "I sure did. First I sifted out the
small dust particles and then I sifted again to remove
any pieces of stone that got picked up."
"What did you find."
"This. At first I thought it was some kind of grub
but then I looked at it under a microscope."
"Let me see."
"Be my guest."
Michael looked through the microscope at what
appeared to be an ant-sized man. He was dead, of
course.
"What is it?" Mary asked.
"Not what. Who."
"Alright. Who is it?"
"It's Peter Hanks."
"You're kidding."
Michael showed her Peter Hanks's picture and Mary
took another look to confirm that it was him.
"How is this possible?"
"I believe that somebody at Goodhead Corporation
poisoned Peter Hanks with a poison that caused him to
become smaller and smaller until he eventually
disappeared, thereby not only killing him but causing
his body to be disposed of in the process."
"Ingenius."
"But Peter managed to live long enough to steal
Mark's gun and kill Joel Byrne."
"So that gets Mark off the hook. He was obviously
telling the truth."
"Yes, but we can't prove that Peter Hanks was
poisoned. All we have is this single bit of trace
evidence."
"This single bit of trace evidence is all that is
left of Peter Hanks."
"Exactly. So I'm wary of doing any tests on him and
then losing all the evidence we have."
"I think Edward will know what to do."
11:47 am
"Absolutely. I do know what to do," Edward told
Michael.
"What then?"
"Well, first of all, we need to take pictures of him
just in case he's no longer recognizable when I'm
finished with him."
"Fair enough. What then?"
"Then I cover him with an epoxy. Sort of like when
a fly is stuck in amber. When the epoxy hardens then
we'll be able to make fine slices that can be examined
under a microscope. That way we'll be able to see his
miniaturized internal organs and everything. This
will prove that this was the real Peter Hanks and not
some elaborate hoax."
"Do you think you can also get a DNA sample?"
"Sure? Do you have anything I can compare it to?"
Michael nodded. "John got a hair sample from his
home. Not only was he a suspect in Byrne's killing
but he was also a missing person."
"Until now."
"Until now. I'll get that hair sample to you ASAP."
"Great."
1:01 pm
"Bizarre Extreme?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Doctor Samuel Leonard."
"Another doctor?"
"Yes."
"Am I sick?"
"That's what I'm here to determine. Bizarre, you
killed a man a few days ago. Are you aware of that?"
Bizarre nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Can you tell me why you did that?"
"He was a bad man. He was hurting another man."
"Do you think he deserved to die?"
Bizarre shook his head. "No no no. I didn't know
that I would kill him just by hitting him. If I had
hit myself like that I would barely have felt it."
"I see. So do you understand now that what you did
was wrong?"
"Yes. Very wrong. I won't do it again."
"I'm sure you won't."
1:55 pm
"Any results, Edward."
Edward nodded. "I've been able to preserve
incredible detail," he said. "The drug just made him
smaller and smaller until he couldn't breathe. He
suffocated to death."
"I see. Did you isolate the drug?"
"I think so." He showed Michael a piece of paper.
"This is the chemical composition of the drug."
Michael nodded. "And you're sure this is Peter
Hanks."
"DNA is a match. It's him alright."
"Excellent. This might be all we need."
PART III
3:32 pm
"Why are you here, Detective?" current Goodhead
Corporation CEO Mitchell Spitz asked. "Detective
Phelps was here just a couple of days ago asking
questions."
"There's been a development. We found Peter Hanks."
"Did you?"
Michael showed him a picture of Peter Hanks's body,
one that had been enlarged several times until a clear
picture of his face could be seen.
"That's him alright. What is that he is laying on?"
"A microscope slide."
"What?"
"Mr. Spitz, Peter Hanks was shrunk down to the size
of an ant. He then died from suffocation because he
couldn't breathe at that size."
"Astonishing!"
"We believe that the poison used was manufactured
here at your labs."
"Absolutely not possible. We don't manufacture
poisons here."
"I'm afraid I can't take your word for it."
"What do you suggest?"
"I'm going to have to search your labs."
"No. Not without a warrant."
Michael showed him the warrant that the judge issued
him half an hour ago.
Spitz sighed. "What do you hope to find?"
"I already know the chemical composition of the
poison that was used. And I do have a degree in
chemistry so, don't worry, I do know what I am looking
for."
3:35 pm
"Doctor?"
Doctor Samuel Leonard nodded. "Yes. Right. Your
clone."
"Bizarre Extreme. Did you finish talking to him?"
"Yes. He's become quite lucid. He's almost
eloquant, if fact."
"He's made a lot of progress. What I want to know,
doctor, is if he's a killer."
Doctor Leonard shook his head. "No. He's not. And
I will testify to that effect if there should be an
inquest into the victim's death."
"Perhaps we don't need to go through that."
Doctor Leonard nodded. "I'll recommend against it.
If anythingm he'd tried as a juvenile. He's barely
two years old, isn't he?"
"It was two years ago that he was placed in
incubation, yes."
"I think under the circumstances he's made a lot of
progress indeed. Perhaps he will one day be a hero
just like you."
Extreme smiled. "Hardly. He's no where near as
strong as me and never will be."
Doctor Leonard laughed. "I wasn't talking about
physical strength so much as pureness of heart."
"Right. Thank you, Doctor."
"You're welcome."
5:55 pm
"Sorry to keep you both waiting," Michael said.
"That's quite alright," Detective John Phelps said
in reply.
"What have you got?" Officer Mark Johnston asked.
"Well, I found traces of poison they used on Peter
Hanks."
"So it definitely was somebody from Goodhead
Corporation that poisoned Peter Hanks then?"
"I can't prove that. But it does show that they
were ultimately responsible, which gave Peter Hanks
motive for wanting to kill his former boss."
"So then he attacked me?"
"And took your gun. Edward found that his body
didn't deteriorate at all from the poison: he just
found it harder and harder to breathe as he got
smaller and smaller."
"Smaller and smaller? So that's why he was so
short! And why his clothes were too big for him!"
"Exactly. And as he got smaller, he would have
gotten stronger: his muscle density would have
actually increased."
"Which is why he was able to knock me out?"
"And why he was still able to pull the trigger even
when he had shrunk down to the size of a child: Jack
found it odd that the trajectory of the bullet was
upwards; Peter was literally standing under Joel Byrne
when he shot him."
"But he then shrunk down to the size of an ant?"
John asked.
"Yes. It must ahve been hard for his small hands to
hild onto the gun so he dropped it at the scene near
the body. He then must have collapsed from a lack of
oxygen: but he didn't die right away and the poison
continued to work on him until he had shrunk down to
ant size."
John sighed. "This all goes into the file. We're
slowly building a case against the whole company."
"Aren't you forgetting something, John?" Michael
asked.
John nodded. "Right. Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"These are yours." He handed back Mark his badge
and his gun. "No hard feelings?"
"Of course not. You were just following procedure."
Michael smiled. "Good to have you back, Mark."
Mark smiled. "It's good to be back."
THE END
Martin
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