Post by johncheese on Apr 16, 2018 12:10:31 GMT -5
Hi guys, was just free writing and thought I'd introduced the Justice League Characters that will be appearing in my series.
Hope you Enjoy
John
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Dice fell onto the table to reveal a pair of snake eyes, before bursting into flame to form a burning spade shape. As the flames got higher a scream sounded and the silhouette of a young child being snatched away from a falling dying figure could be seen burning against the darkness behind it.
**
Turtle Palms Retirement Home, Tampa Bay, Florida
With a gasp the elderly man with short grey hair and sparkling brown eyes awoke with a start from his sleep. Blinking once, twice he focused on the other dozing members of the retirement home he lived in, before getting to his feet, his slippers scuffing across the floor as he headed for his room.
“Mr Dodds, it’s not time to go back to your room yet.” The nurse at the counter stated as Dodds shuffled past her.
“There’s not time Monica, I need to go.” Dodds replied as he reached the bottom of the stairs up to his room. “It’s urgent.”
“Okay Mr Dodds but you be careful, you’re not as young as you once were.” Monica replied with a roll of her eyes. As far as she was concerned Mr Wesley Dodds delusions over being a superhero were just that, delusions. Most of the residents at Turtle Palms Retirement Home had some kind of dementia, and while Mr Dodds was far from losing his memory, his imagination did lead him to come to some strange situations.
Getting up to his room, Wesley bolted the door behind him and walked over to the closet before lugging a footlocker out of the wardrobe. Popping it open he looked at the gas-mask held inside as well as the futuristic looking gas gun sitting next to it. “Am I really needed?” Dodds asked himself as he weighed the gun and looked deep into the eye-sockets of the mask. “Is there place for the Sandman in such a modern age?” He sighed before closing the trunk and sitting down on his bed head in hands.
The dream was so realistic, so reminiscent to the ones he’d had so long ago that he knew he had to act but how. Could he really deal with this himself or should he call the police? Without even thinking he realised that he’d slipped a dark brown trench coat over his clothes and was reaching for the mask, instinct taken over.
“Once a hero…” Wesley sighed as he pulled the mask over his face.
**
Wesley felt alive as he sat behind the wheel of his 1938 Dodge Plymouth and drove past the Seminole Casino. While it had seemed obvious that his dream had been pointing there Wesley knew better than to trust the obvious answer and decided to focus on the importance of the snake eyes on the dice, and as such headed for the old abandoned Snake Farm on the edge of the city. The police were out in force, apparently a six-year-old boy had been snatched from her parents by an unknown assailant.
Arriving at the farm, Wesley looked at the rundown buildings before stepping out of his vehicle and heading for the only one that still looked sturdy enough to hold its own weight during the next hurricane season. Parts of the dream were bugging him, he was sure he had got the location right and was positive it was related to the kidnapping but the other images made no sense.
“I’m bored, I want to go home.” A little voice pleaded, shocking Wesley out of his thoughts as he saw an elderly man dressed in pinstripe trousers, waistcoat and smoking jacket walk past the window, his quaking hands holding a gun.
“I’m sorry son.” The kidnapper wheezed as he looked down at where the boy was being held. “Not till my friend gets here.”
Wesley recognised the accent coupled with the man’s outfit. Known in criminal circles as ‘the Gambler’ Steven Sharpe was an old foe, emphasis on the world old, who’d been ancient when Sandman had last fought him in the seventies. Something seemed wrong though, the Gambler was a man who lived on the roll of the dice, he wasn’t a kidnapper, so what had set him on this new path. Debating with himself over whether it was a trap Wesley saw the Gambler turn and look at something across the room, giving him the window, he needed to get inside. Unfortunately, his age had other ideas, while Wesley did manage to get inside, he didn’t manage to do it unnoticed as the Gambler levelled his pistol, a modified derringer, at the Sandman’s masked face.
“My old enemy.” The Gamble coughed as he looked at the boy and smiled. “The Sandman means no harm Steven, he’s just come to talk to your grandfather.”
“You kidnapped your own grandson for what?” Wesley asked. “Revenge? Am I to expect more old enemies to appear?”
“No.” The Gambler replied sadly. “Steven go outside.” The old villain ordered as he kept his pistol levelled at his old enemy. “My friends could have been the cops, maybe someone like you. I…I wanted to see if I could do this one last time.”
“So, did I, now put the gun down.” Wesley ordered as the Gambler looked at the derringer and then at the Sandman. “You’re lucky I came and not the cops, they could have killed you.”
“It would be better than this.” The Gambler coughed as he lowered his gun. “I don’t want to die like that, I want to die as I should of, fighting in the alleys for what I had taken.”
“What do you mean better?” Wesley asked as he darted forward and snatched the gun off the Gambler.
“I have lung cancer, its terminal.” The Gambler sighed as he bowed his head. “I’m a fool, why did I bring my grandson into this? What if he got hurt?”
“He wasn’t and you can still make this right.” Wesley stated as he put an arm round his former foe. “Old war horses like us need rest, we’ve fought our fight, now it’s time for the young’uns to take up the mantle. I also wanted to know if I could do this, if I could still be the Sandman. I guess answers will never be found unless you try. Now let’s make this right.”
“It used to be so simple.” The Gambler sighed as Wesley lead him outside to where the villain’s grandson was gawping at Wesley’s car.
“Maybe in hindsight.” Wesley replied as he opened the door and helped young Steven into the car. As he did he heard a shot and a cry as the Gambler fell to the floor, his hand clenched round a second pistol.
“I made it right, old horses should die fighting.” The Gamble croaked as his grandson screamed as he saw his dying grandfather. “You know it to be true, you just don’t see it yet.” Restraining the boy, Wesley realised that he had failed to stop the crime his visions had warned him of.
“Perhaps I’m not needed, not relevant after all.” He thought as he turned the boy away from his dead grandfather. “Perhaps it’s better if I’m not involved at all.”
**
Darkness engulfed the shining golden tower, the angels who guarded it swooping to the ground to crowd round a shackled giant, their long knives flashing as they drew them. Screaming as his liver was ripped out, the giant’s black blood oozed across the floor to form five figures shackled together backlight by the sand, now formed into a white winged figure. One by one the figures broke as the blood drained away leaving only the winged figure until it took flight, coming closer to the dreamer.
Wesley Dodds woke up again, it wasn’t over it was just the beginning.
Hope you Enjoy
John
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dice fell onto the table to reveal a pair of snake eyes, before bursting into flame to form a burning spade shape. As the flames got higher a scream sounded and the silhouette of a young child being snatched away from a falling dying figure could be seen burning against the darkness behind it.
**
Turtle Palms Retirement Home, Tampa Bay, Florida
With a gasp the elderly man with short grey hair and sparkling brown eyes awoke with a start from his sleep. Blinking once, twice he focused on the other dozing members of the retirement home he lived in, before getting to his feet, his slippers scuffing across the floor as he headed for his room.
“Mr Dodds, it’s not time to go back to your room yet.” The nurse at the counter stated as Dodds shuffled past her.
“There’s not time Monica, I need to go.” Dodds replied as he reached the bottom of the stairs up to his room. “It’s urgent.”
“Okay Mr Dodds but you be careful, you’re not as young as you once were.” Monica replied with a roll of her eyes. As far as she was concerned Mr Wesley Dodds delusions over being a superhero were just that, delusions. Most of the residents at Turtle Palms Retirement Home had some kind of dementia, and while Mr Dodds was far from losing his memory, his imagination did lead him to come to some strange situations.
Getting up to his room, Wesley bolted the door behind him and walked over to the closet before lugging a footlocker out of the wardrobe. Popping it open he looked at the gas-mask held inside as well as the futuristic looking gas gun sitting next to it. “Am I really needed?” Dodds asked himself as he weighed the gun and looked deep into the eye-sockets of the mask. “Is there place for the Sandman in such a modern age?” He sighed before closing the trunk and sitting down on his bed head in hands.
The dream was so realistic, so reminiscent to the ones he’d had so long ago that he knew he had to act but how. Could he really deal with this himself or should he call the police? Without even thinking he realised that he’d slipped a dark brown trench coat over his clothes and was reaching for the mask, instinct taken over.
“Once a hero…” Wesley sighed as he pulled the mask over his face.
**
Wesley felt alive as he sat behind the wheel of his 1938 Dodge Plymouth and drove past the Seminole Casino. While it had seemed obvious that his dream had been pointing there Wesley knew better than to trust the obvious answer and decided to focus on the importance of the snake eyes on the dice, and as such headed for the old abandoned Snake Farm on the edge of the city. The police were out in force, apparently a six-year-old boy had been snatched from her parents by an unknown assailant.
Arriving at the farm, Wesley looked at the rundown buildings before stepping out of his vehicle and heading for the only one that still looked sturdy enough to hold its own weight during the next hurricane season. Parts of the dream were bugging him, he was sure he had got the location right and was positive it was related to the kidnapping but the other images made no sense.
“I’m bored, I want to go home.” A little voice pleaded, shocking Wesley out of his thoughts as he saw an elderly man dressed in pinstripe trousers, waistcoat and smoking jacket walk past the window, his quaking hands holding a gun.
“I’m sorry son.” The kidnapper wheezed as he looked down at where the boy was being held. “Not till my friend gets here.”
Wesley recognised the accent coupled with the man’s outfit. Known in criminal circles as ‘the Gambler’ Steven Sharpe was an old foe, emphasis on the world old, who’d been ancient when Sandman had last fought him in the seventies. Something seemed wrong though, the Gambler was a man who lived on the roll of the dice, he wasn’t a kidnapper, so what had set him on this new path. Debating with himself over whether it was a trap Wesley saw the Gambler turn and look at something across the room, giving him the window, he needed to get inside. Unfortunately, his age had other ideas, while Wesley did manage to get inside, he didn’t manage to do it unnoticed as the Gambler levelled his pistol, a modified derringer, at the Sandman’s masked face.
“My old enemy.” The Gamble coughed as he looked at the boy and smiled. “The Sandman means no harm Steven, he’s just come to talk to your grandfather.”
“You kidnapped your own grandson for what?” Wesley asked. “Revenge? Am I to expect more old enemies to appear?”
“No.” The Gambler replied sadly. “Steven go outside.” The old villain ordered as he kept his pistol levelled at his old enemy. “My friends could have been the cops, maybe someone like you. I…I wanted to see if I could do this one last time.”
“So, did I, now put the gun down.” Wesley ordered as the Gambler looked at the derringer and then at the Sandman. “You’re lucky I came and not the cops, they could have killed you.”
“It would be better than this.” The Gambler coughed as he lowered his gun. “I don’t want to die like that, I want to die as I should of, fighting in the alleys for what I had taken.”
“What do you mean better?” Wesley asked as he darted forward and snatched the gun off the Gambler.
“I have lung cancer, its terminal.” The Gambler sighed as he bowed his head. “I’m a fool, why did I bring my grandson into this? What if he got hurt?”
“He wasn’t and you can still make this right.” Wesley stated as he put an arm round his former foe. “Old war horses like us need rest, we’ve fought our fight, now it’s time for the young’uns to take up the mantle. I also wanted to know if I could do this, if I could still be the Sandman. I guess answers will never be found unless you try. Now let’s make this right.”
“It used to be so simple.” The Gambler sighed as Wesley lead him outside to where the villain’s grandson was gawping at Wesley’s car.
“Maybe in hindsight.” Wesley replied as he opened the door and helped young Steven into the car. As he did he heard a shot and a cry as the Gambler fell to the floor, his hand clenched round a second pistol.
“I made it right, old horses should die fighting.” The Gamble croaked as his grandson screamed as he saw his dying grandfather. “You know it to be true, you just don’t see it yet.” Restraining the boy, Wesley realised that he had failed to stop the crime his visions had warned him of.
“Perhaps I’m not needed, not relevant after all.” He thought as he turned the boy away from his dead grandfather. “Perhaps it’s better if I’m not involved at all.”
**
Darkness engulfed the shining golden tower, the angels who guarded it swooping to the ground to crowd round a shackled giant, their long knives flashing as they drew them. Screaming as his liver was ripped out, the giant’s black blood oozed across the floor to form five figures shackled together backlight by the sand, now formed into a white winged figure. One by one the figures broke as the blood drained away leaving only the winged figure until it took flight, coming closer to the dreamer.
Wesley Dodds woke up again, it wasn’t over it was just the beginning.