Jan 28, 2019
Page Twelve!!
Peace in our time?
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
Page Twelve!!
Peace in our time?
PAGE EIGHT
To the rescue!!!
PAGE ELEVEN!
Facts.
PAGE SEVEN!
shit.
PAGE FIVE!
who is she? mysterious...
SUPERFREAKS - Who are they? What do they want? Do they know we call them that?
Page one is dropping soon (27th!) but in the meantime, have a character sheet! These are just some of the folks who will be appearing - Some sooner rather then later…
PAGE ONE! Say hello to Danger Douche ™ and Villain #1 -Scorpo.
...Whippin’
A family can be anyone. Five kids, one kid, no dad, three dads, step mums and third cousins and as many nans as you can carry. Or a family can be you, by yourself, wrapped in a blanket, streaming Die Hard on your laptop and slowly getting drunk on discounted port.
No Face had decided long ago that this was her kind of family.
Grey waves of sleet turned the streets outside to a grit flavoured slush puppy, and No Face snuggled deeper. On the cracked screen John Mcclane was crawling sweatily through an air vent. ‘Come out to the coast.’ he muttered. ‘We’ll get together, have a few laughs...’ She snorted into the bottle.
In an almost unconscious movement, she grabbed her phone from under the blankets and flicked it open. She’d been going through old emails, ostensibly for work, mainly for a laugh. Alan had sent her a twenty one page proposal for a Dangerman holiday album. Hits included ‘Baby it’s Dangerous Outside’, ‘I’m dreaming of a yellow Christmas’ and ‘Danger bells’. Concept art was attached.
‘Idiot.’ No Face smiled as she read her own curt reply. Bored, she switched over to twitter, scrolling through the official christmas wishes of registered heroes from around the world. There was a picture of the infinity squad roasting chestnuts in the flames of Jet Pac’s boosters with the slogan RexCo wishes you an infinite Christmas!
‘That’s a fire hazard.’ she muttered, taking another swig of port. Then she saw something that made her stop scrolling altogether.
‘I’ll kill him.’ she said. ‘I’ll will fucking KILL HIM.’
***
Christmas was loud at the Mansfield ranch. All five Mansfield boys – Alan, Calum, Dylan, Elon, and Big Randy Junior, looking like a flock of gay sheep in multicoloured wooly jumpers – were gathered around the tree singing carols. Badly. Big Randy senior led on piano, roaring out ear splitting chords from beneath a blonde handlebar moustache. Randall ‘Original Randy’ Mansfield watched from an armchair, smoking his pipe.
‘Boys!’ called Mamma Mansfield, coming in from the kitchen with a tray. ‘Pies!’
With a chorus of ‘AH YEAH!’, the boys leaped up, shoving each other aside in a hurry to get to the plate.
‘Aww guys, save me one. Aww, c’mon guys –’
Even at 6 ft 4, Alan was the baby of the family, and the other boys pushed him to the back easily. He stood on his tip toes, trying to get past. ‘Guys, c’mon –’
‘Psst.’ From one of her many apron folds, Mamma Mansfield produced a secret bonus pie and pressed it into Alan’s hand. His face lit up. ‘Yes!’
‘Shhh.’
She winked, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Caroline Mansfield didn’t have much contact with the big wild world aside from the copper plated radio that lived in the barn kitchen, and she wasn’t convinced that most of the shows were liberal propaganda. Still, she was endlessly proud of Alan for making a name for himself in the city. She especially loved hearing his superhero stories.
‘Tell me again about the bank robbery you stopped, Ally.’ she said.
‘Yeah Alan!’ said Dylan, spraying crumbs like the back end of a lawnmower. ‘Tell us!’
‘What’d you say to him after you tripped him over?’ asked Elon.
‘I said…’ Alan paused, letting the silence gather around him. ‘Have a nice trip.’
Explosive laughter wracked through the barn. Even original Randy chuckled into his pipe, promptly taking it out to have a coughing fit.
‘I bet she loved that one.’ said Caroline. ‘Noface.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Alan flicked a lock of hair out of his face. ‘We laughed about it for ages afterwards. She loves my wordfun.’
‘Who’f Norfa’f?’ asked Dylan, freeing a bit of mince pie from the back of his teeth with a finger.
‘She’s Alan’s manager.’ said Caroline. ‘But she’s more like your best friend, isn’t she, Alan?’
Alan nodded, a spot of pink appearing in each of his cheeks. Caroline brushed some crumbs off his jumper, yellow and black, freshly knitted. ‘He’s her favorite client.’ she said, beaming.
No Face herself didn’t know it, but she was a recurring character in Alan’s weekly calls home: a sort of maternal side kick, doling out pre-mission snacks and high fives, woohooing each time he landed a punch, laughing with him afterwards about the fun time they’d just had.
‘Man, that’s cool!’ said Calum, slapping him on the back.
‘Way cool.’ added Elon, elbowing him in the ribs.
‘OF COURSE SHE’S HIS FAVORITE.’ boomed Big Randy Senior. ‘HE’S A MANSFIELD, AFTER ALL!’
‘Aww, guys…’ The pink spots spread to cover Alan’s whole face.
In the landing, the phone started to ring. ‘One second!’ Caroline called, to the phone, bustling through to the landing.
***
As the phone rang, No Face stared at the image on the screen. It was pretty tasteful, for a nude photoshoot. Alan was holding a sprig of holly over his midsection, looking over one shoulder with an expression of faint surprise as if the photographer had chanced upon him frolicking through the forest. The slogan on the base read Season’s Greetings! Love, Dangerman xxx in red and sparkly font.
When the hell did he get this done?
No Face would have been impressed if she wasn’t already filled with murderous rage. The comments were a mix of amusement, confusion, and a few NSFW suggestions about things he could do with the holly. She groaned. Deleting it would attract attention, but so would leaving it up. There was nothing she could do to make the situation better. She could, however, make herself feel better, by calling Alan up to yell at him.
The receiver clicked.
‘Hey, d–’
‘Hello?
No Face’s dipshit was cut short by the sound of a woman’s voice.
‘Hello? Who is this?’ It was muffled, but she sounded middle aged.
No Face took a deep breath, made herself sound civil. ‘This is No Face McBride. I’m looking for –’
‘Noface?’ The woman cut her off excitedly. ‘Oh, my goodness! It’s me, Caroline! Alan’s mother! How are you doing?’
‘I’m good, I just –’
‘It’s so sweet of you to call.’ she went on.‘Really, it’s just so nice. I wondered if you would, but I know you must be busy with your family and everything.’
‘Mhmm.’ No Face hurriedly reached over and muted the laptop. ‘Uh huh, yeah –’
‘Alan’s told me so much about you. You two must make quite the team!’
No Face swallowed. ‘Sure. Could I maybe –
‘I really appreciate you looking after him, Miss McBride. Out there in the city. I know –’ Caroline cleared her throat. ‘I know he’s not the sharpest fork in the haypile. I’m his mother. I know these things.’
‘Hhh – uh, hmm.’ NoFace tried to keep her noises noncommittal.
‘Just tell me –’ She lowered her voice. ‘Just tell me, honestly, is everything okay? Is he doing a good job?’
Silence buzzed down the line from either end.
‘Yes.’ said No Face. ‘He’s – he’s doing great. Amazing, actually. Really really good.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Caroline exhaled as she spoke. ‘That’s so good to hear. You know, I –’
The fuzzy sounds of piano started up in the background, and someone with an impossibly loud voice yelled ‘CAROLINE WE ARE STARTING!’
‘Oh, lemons. I’ve got to go.’
‘Okay.’ said No Face. ‘Um. Goodbye then.’
‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’
No Face caught the first note of another ear splitting carol – ‘WE…’ But the line went dead before anyone could wish her a merry anything. She dropped the phone back into the folks of the blanket, leaned back, and sighed. Night was coming. Outside her window the streetlights were pinging on, an airstrip leading to the sky.
‘Merry Christmas, dipshit.’ she said. ‘Have that one on me.’