Low Budget Productions Proudly Presents,
A Starfall Comics Comic:
Swamp Patrol
#13: Transfigurations Book One: Genesis
cover: An overhead shot of a mushroom pizza cut in eight slices. Superimposed over 7 of the slices are the faces of the seven members of the Swamp Patrol. The eighth slice is being taken by a dark-skinned hand. On this slice is written TRANSFIGURATION BOOK ONE: GENESIS.
He begins with a story.
"It was many years ago, before thee Insurrection. There were people ov great power, and people ov great courage and dedication. Sometimes these people worked against each other. But sometimes they came together, to protect thee weak and thee powerless, those who were good but could do nothing.
"One ov these groups lived as part of a larger, less united group - a larger Homegathering than any that has been allowed since thee Insurrection. They had to hide themselves from the other members ov this larger group, because not everyone could see thee wisdom ov such bands. So they worked with those few people they could trust not to betray them, and did as much good as they could."
Ted was alone - he often was, these days.
Donna was worried - she often was, these days.
"C'mon, Brill, answer!" she said into the dead ringing of the phone. "Answer!"
Someone on the other end picked up. "...ello?"
"Hi! Is Brill there?"
"...think so."
The muffled sound of a hand being cupped over the phone, and someone on the other end shouting something.
"...ello?"
"Hey, Brill?"
"...i, Donna. I'm ...fraid the phones ...little screwy."
"Brill, have you seen Ted? I haven't been able to find him anywhere."
"...o, I haven't. ...hy? Is something ...rong?"
"I don't know...that's what I'm worried about."
It was cold and damp outside the city, but Arsenal didn't mind. He simply pulled his jacket tighter around his body and ventured further.
How long had it been since he had first heard the voice? He didn't know. Didn't care. Since then it had become the only thing he could think about; he had heard salvation in its voice, redemption, absolution. He had heard the voice of God.
That was why he was returning to the swamp, now. He had been to blind to see the true beauty of what had confronted him that first night. Now, now he was different. He was ready.
re
There it was.
no
unce.
He looked around...no one was there, just like the last time. And the voice came, growing stronger, sensing acceptance.
ren |
ounce |
A whisper at first, |
||
[renounce] |
and then growing louder | [renounce] |
renouncerenouncerenouncerenouncerenouncerenounceRENOUNCERENOUNCERENOUNCE
And he fell to his knees, besieged by the sound, and by a sudden blinding white light that pierced the veil of the swamp, drew fingernails across the blackboard of his retina and bludgeoned his being like a holy sledgehammer.
And then...
before him...
an angel....
An angel surrounded by a golden halo of energy, crickling around diamond wings and a figure, a form so perfect as to be inhuman in its beauty.
"Who..." he trailed off, as he was filled with a sense of knowledge, with knowledge, with a sense.
I am your Redemption.
"Well, this is it," Michael said. "Our new apartment."
Marie went in ahead of him, carrying her bags and one of the boxes of various and sundry things they had packed for the move.
"What do you think?" he asked, praying she would speak to him. She hadn't all trip, except to ask him to turn on the heat in the car. She shrugged and went into the one bedroom that already had a bed in it, where she dropped her stuff.
"Until my bed gets here, I'll be sleeping on the floor in my room," he said. "I figured I owed it to you to let you have a bed on the first night."
"I'm touched," she said as she came back into the living room/kitchen. "Do we have cable?"
"Not yet," he said, bringing in the last pile of boxes from the hallway and depositing them against the wall. He closed the door and walked over, sitting next to her on the floor. "The guy said it should be hooked up in a couple of days."
She got up and walked over to the window. "Pretty crummy view," she said.
"Well, there isn't really much to look at here anyway," he joked.
"I know."
Michael stood up, hesitated, decided not to join her by the window. "Want some dinner?" he asked.
"Sure."
"Anything in particular?"
"Pizza."
He'd have to go out for that. The phone line wouldn't be connected 'til tomorrow. "Alright, pizza it is. Anything on it?"
"Mushrooms. Extra cheese."
"Okay." He grabbed his coat and headed for the door -- it was pretty chilly out there. "See ya."
She never even turned around.
Okay girl get a grip. He didn't just up and disappear -- Ted's not like that. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation of where he is. Now think. What sort of places would he be likely to go? What are his hang-outs?
Ostrander Pizzeria is a bit run-down and grimy, but the service is pleasant and the pizza is top notch, particularly the deep dish almond. Yes, almond. It actually tastes surprisingly good.
Donna Valin walked into Ostrander Pizzeria at ten past eight p.m. It was empty except for a young couple sharing a pizza at the table nearest the door, and an East Indian guy who gave her a funny look while he stood in line at the pick-up section.
She walked over to the guy behind the counter -- Rick, she'd met him a couple of times when the gang had come in for pizza -- and asked him about Ted.
"Nope," Rick said, shaking his head. "Haven't seen him in almost a week. Last time was when the bunch of you came in on...Friday, I think?"
"Oh. Okay," Donna said. "Thanks."
"When you find him, make sure the lot of you come back, 'kay?" he said as she left the Pizzeria. "Free pizzas on the house when you do."
Michael hadn't expected to see one tonight, of all times. Certainly not while he was picking up a medium pizza with mushrooms and extra cheese for Marie and himself for dinner.
"Not tonight," he muttered to himself.
"What's that?" asked the buzzcut guy behind the counter.
"Oh, nothing, I was just talking to myself."
The guy behind the counter nodded. "Here's your pizza," he said, handing the hot and slightly damp box to Michael.
"Thank you." Michael gave the guy exact change and left the pizzeria, heading back to the apartment -- he couldn't call it home, not yet -- and hoping that, at least a little, Marie was starting to forgive him.
He hadn't expected to see one tonight. And he couldn't bring himself to start in on the contract already. Not on his first night in town, not on the night that could make or break his relationship with his sister. Not tonight.
Not tonight.
"What do you -- ?"
Want? It is not a question of what I want. It is a question of what you want.
I know that you want to be rid of your "powers".
Arsenal was still on his knees. The voice boomed, echoed, whispered; it bypassed his ears, slid smooth and ophidian between the lobes of his brain, between the halves of his being.
Do not deny it. As a servant of God, I have looked into your heart. And I have come to you, to make you an offer of salvation.
Renounce your powers. Reclaim your faith, your position in God's embrace. Your salvation is at hand.
"Oh no! Aaaaaaah!"
Marie screamed in mock-horror as the terrible Megalon battled Godzilla on one of the non-cable channels they could pick up with the rabbit ears.
"Look out, Godzilla!" Michael shouted, and the two collapsed in laughter as the rubber-suited Godzilla launched the first ever kung-fu monster attack on the villainous Megalon.
"Yeah!" they cheered, before collapsing in laughter again. Finally, the credits rolled.
"Hoo-boy," Michael said. "Now that was bad."
"Yeah," Marie replied, smiling. "Wasn't it great?"
"Uhhh...More pizza?"
"No way," she said, lying on the floor and warding the pizza box off with both hands. "If I eat another bite, I'm gonna wind up looking like Megalon."
"More for me, then," Michael said, biting into a piece of now rather cold pizza. "You know, I really am sorry we had to move."
Marie grew more sombre. "I know. But...did we really have to? I mean, couldn't you have gotten a job back home? And just what are you doing here anyway?"
"My employer's asked me not to tell anyone."
"I know what it is," Marie said, getting to her knees. "You're a hitman!"
Michael almost choked on the pizza before he noticed she was smiling at him. "Yeah, right," he said. "A wimp like me?"
"A wimp, eh..." Suddenly she launched herself at him, knocking the pizza from his hand and viciously... tickling him!
"No! No...heeheehee...no! Stop it! Marie!! Aaaaaah!" He tried in vain to push her off, convulsing as the tickling got stronger and stronger. "Aiiieee! Uncle! Uncle!"
Marie sat back on her heels, a wicked grin from ear to ear. "I'd forgotten how ticklish you were."
"Well," he said, returning to a sitting position. "I haven't forgotten how ticklish you are!" And the tables were turned!
Finally, after tickling each other into submission until they were completely out of breath, they both collapsed on the floor.
"Phew. I'm wiped," Marie said.
"Me too. Don't forget, you have school tomorrow, little lady." He smiled.
"I know." Marie got to her feet and started to trundle off to her room. "You sure you don't want me to take the floor and let you have the bed?"
"I'm sure. Besides, I don't want to catch cooties!"
Marie growled. "You!" she said, threatening to toss a pillow at him.
Michael smiled. "See you in the morning, sis. I've got to clean up in here, and then I'll hit the hay myself."
"G'night." She closed the door after her.
Michael Srinivathan piled the leftover pizza back into the box, stuck the box in the near-empty freezer, and, after wiping the floor up a bit, went to bed on the floor, marvelling at how, for a few hours, his whole life had managed to seem just fine.