The Dragon 2200 # 8 The Dragon: 2200

# 8

by Brian Campo (bcampo@hotmail.com)

This is a work of fan fiction. The Savage Dragon and all related characters are owned by Erik Larsen, and I do not contest
that ownership. This story is in no way official and it should not be taken as such. All characters in this story not owned by Mr.
Larsen are owned by me, though I would gladly loan them out if asked nicely.

Warning: This story may contain graphic violence, sexual situations and harsh language. If you shouldn't be reading it, don't.

Visit the Dragon 2200 homepage for back issues and covers (http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/dragonifshome.html)

Maxine stood with one hand shielding her eyes as she watched the armored gunship with the Lone Star flag on it's side circle the Chicago Municipal building. It dropped slowly out of the cloudless sky and angled toward the landing pad that Maxine was standing next to. It's turbines kicked up the wind and had her neck-tie slapping her in the face. She pinned it down over her chest and tried to smile.
. She was excited and had to fight to keep from fidgeting. She took a quick look down and confirmed that her appearance was just as immaculate as it had been the last time she checked, only a minute before. Even though Monday was her day off, she was dressed in her uniform and it was even more neatly pressed and creased than usual.. This was the first time that her father had seen her since she had left Texas months before, and she wanted him to know that she was succeeding. That she had what it took to be a good cop in the city of Chicago.
Not that he had ever doubted her. He had instilled a sense of duty and self respect in her when he first took her in as a child and it had stuck with her through the years. She had spent the last nine and a half years trying to make him proud, because anything less would seem like a slap in the face in light of what he had done for her. He had never asked for much from her. Just love and respect. It was Maxine that felt that she had to push herself to earn all that he had done for her. If anything, he sometimes suggested that she was pushing herself too hard. More often than not she proved him wrong and succeeded in whatever endeavor she had undertaken at the time. Failure was not even an option for her.
The engines on the gunship began to wind down, and the door on the side slid open. Her father, John Armstrong (or as the Americans knew him, SuperPatriot.) stood in the doorway. He gave her a nod of recognition and then stepped back into the ship. He emerged with Paul Heston in tow. Heston was wearing a pair of SS inhibitor cuffs that no doubt were specifically calibrated to negate his powers. Maxine instantly recognized the prisoner as the man who had electrocuted her and nearly killed her early last week. From the look of surprise that crossed his face, it was clear that he recognized Maxine, too.
"I thought I killed you, pig!" he spat in her direction.
John gave him a bone rattling shake and said, "That's my daughter you're talking to. You should be quiet." He spoke in a quiet but stern tone. He didn't need to raise his voice. When she was a kid, that tone used to be enough to bring Maxine to tears.
Paul clamped his mouth shut and looked scared. John dragged him roughly across the landing pad and towards one of the doors leading into the court house. Maxine followed behind them, keeping quiet. She knew that her father was on duty until he turned the prisoner over to the Federal Marshals inside, and that they would have plenty of time to talk when he was done.
The Marshals inside took custody of Paul and signed the papers that John had brought with him. They stuttered and stammered when they spoke to John, clearly nervous in his presence. SuperPatriot was still very much a legend here in Chicago, remembered for all the times he had saved the city from certain destruction. The fact that he had abandoned the United States for the Texas Republic hadn't diminished his fame or changed people's opinions of him.
People understood why he left the States behind, and many agreed with him. When Washington surrendered Atlantic City to the Daemonites it had been the last straw for the old soldier. It stank of cowardice, which clashed with his "Never Surrender" way of life. The way John saw it, it was like telling any terrorist group or invading force that the US was a push over for anybody that showed them a little back bone.
The US military had begun building up around Atlantic City after the Daemonites took over, preparing to go in and clean the place out. At this point, the Daemonites started making claims to being a minority (much like the Vampire Nation had recently tried in Hong Kong). Just the thought that they might be oppressing a minority and the fear of what the voters would think was enough to throw the government into a panic. They started cutting deals and pretty soon the state of New Jersey belonged to a parasitic alien race. The next thing anyone knew, there were reports of death camps in Atlantic City and millions were dead. By the time the military was allowed to intervene, most of the human population in New Jersey were either dead or being used as host bodies for the Daemonites.
Public opinion turned against the current administration and the government finally decided to let the military deal with the situation. After a short campaign in Jersey, the Daemonites were rooted out and killed, but in John's opinion it was too little, too late. He had seen the United States fail it's own people one too many times and he wasn't going to put up with it anymore. He packed what little he owned and headed to the recently seceded Republic of Texas. He had remained there for the last twenty three years. While many had wished he had stayed, no one held it against him that he left.
The Marshals thanked John for his help and then escorted Paul Heston down the hall. John stood and watched them for a moment, and then he turned to his daughter.
"Hello, Maxine." he said.
She gave him a smile as she stepped close and wrapped her arms around his metal frame. "I missed you, daddy."
He patted the back of her head affectionately but did not return her embrace. After all these years, he was still not comfortable giving someone a hug using his cyborg body. When Maxine released him and took a step back a few seconds later he dropped his hand to his side. "You look good, Maxine. Chicago must be agreeing with you."
"Well," she said with a grin. "we've had a few disagreements. I'm bringing it around to my way of thinking, though."
He laughed, emitting a strange electronic barking sound that had a way of disturbing some people. She was used to it, and laughed with him.
"Let's go somewhere where we can talk." said Maxine.
"I'd like that." said John.

"I want my lawyer." Paul snarled at the two marshals.
"You get your lawyer after we get you booked." said one of the marshals. " In the meantime, Shaddup."
They ran him past the desk sergeant, getting his fingerprints and pictures. The fingerprints were tricky, as they had to get them while he was still wearing his cuffs. There was no way that they were going to take those things off. They had him bend over and hold his hands out flat while they ran the hand scanner over the ends of his fingers. When they were finished there they escorted him to his cell. Paul was pushed inside and the door was slammed shut. They yanked on the door a couple of times to make sure it had latched securely and then turned to walk away.
"Hey!" shout Paul. "Wait."
"What." asked the Marshall.
"What about the cuffs? Aren't you going to take them off?"
"I could, but we'd have to knock you out until the end of the your hearing." said the Marshall before he left Paul alone. This was only a holding cell. They didn't have the security here to control a Freak with access to his powers. Paul was going to live in those cuffs until the judge decided what they were going to do with him.
The Marshals went back their desks and finished up the paper work for Paul, making sure that they hadn't missed something. It wouldn't be the first time that a crook had got off the hook because of a misspelling on a extradition paper. Each document was checked and double checked by both men, making it near impossible for some little mistake to get past them. When they were finished, all of the papers were date stamped by the computer and then put into a manilla envelope that was also date stamped. They were just sealing it closed when they heard a scream from the direction of the holding cells
They were on their feet in an instant, racing for the cells. As they closed in on Paul's cell they saw the prisoner inside get thrown forcefully against the bars. Blood splattered out into the hallway. Paul had an expression of terror on his face.
"Help." he pleaded, one of his arms reaching through the bars toward them.
They were coming up in front of the cell now and were shocked to see a man mounted on horseback in the six by nine cell with Paul. The man raised what looked like a broken saber above his head and sliced at Paul with it. Paul's head banged forward against the bars and then flipped backwards, no longer attached to his neck. Paul's body slumped, still held up by the arm that was sticking through the bars.
The two marshall's pulled their guns and took aim at the horseman. The intruder charged forward at them, passing through Paul's body and the steel bars. The next thing they knew, he was in the hallway with them. He turned the horse expertly, using it's weight and size to throw them out of the way. The horse turned towards the doors leading out of the building and took off at a run. Both Marshals opened fire, filling the hallway with the loud roar of their weapons. If any of the shots hit home, the horseman showed no sign. He kept going and disappeared through the closed doors.

The sound of gunfire grabbed Maxine and John's attention, making them look across the street towards the courthouse. A moment later, a man on horseback materialized out of one of the doors leading into the court house. The horse spun in a couple of circles, as if the rider was trying to decide what direction it should go. The two marshals who had taken Paul Heston earlier shoved their way out the double doors behind the rider, firing their guns. He jerked in his saddle, as if he had been hit.
Maxine was halfway across the street before she realized that she was reacting to this situation. "What am I thinking?" she thought in a panicked voice. "I'm not even armed."
John ran past her, his arm forming into a machine cannon. Maxine grabbed him by the crook of his arm and shouted, "No, Dad!"
He turned and focused his lenses on her, looking at her like she was insane. "What do you think you're doing, Maxine? A criminal is getting away."
"This isn't your jurisdiction." said Maxine. " No matter what he's done, if you catch him he'll walk."
John stared at her for a moment and then he let his arm change back to normal. "Well, you better hurry." he told her. "He's getting away."
He was right. The horseman had taken off and was already to the end of the block. She sprinted after it but realized after a few seconds that this wasn't going to work. There was no way she was going to catch up to a horse running on foot. Sirens blared behind her, and she turned to see a patrol car speeding toward her, in hot pursuit of the horseman. She waved her arms frantically and the car slid up next to her. She yanked the passenger side door off of it's hinges and jumped in.
"Go! Go!" she shouted at the driver. "Follow that horse!"
The driver, a young african american woman, was naturally shocked by Maxine's actions. She took a couple of seconds to pull her wits together and then she threw the car into drive and punched the gas. The car fishtailed and then shot forward, quickly accelerating. The car door was left spinning in the middle of the street.
"Get me right up over him." Maxine told the girl. The driver nodded in response, skillfully maneuvering the car through the traffic and closer to the fleeing horseman. Maxine leaned out of the open doorway, blinking at the wind that was blasting her in the face. Only about two car lengths separated them from the rider. They were drawing closer with every second.
The rider was hunched forward in his saddle and giving his horse all of it's reign. This was top speed for them. Maxine was right over them now, with only one foot still in the car and only one hand hanging on to the roof of the car. Trying not to think of what would happen if she missed, she jumped out of the car.
She landed on the horse behind the rider. The horse stumbled when her weight dropped on it, momentarily loosing it's gait. A second later it recovered and was moving forward at a run. Maxine reached forward, wrapped her arm around the rider's throat, and jerked him back. He slammed his head back, cracking it into her nose. She felt the cartilage in her nose crunch and her eyes watered from the pain. She used her free hand to deliver two solid kidney punches to the rider, blows that the horse seemed to feel, too. It faltered and threatened to fall. The horse came to a stop and began to turn in circles, responding to the confusing messages coming from the rider.
"I'm not afraid of you." Maxine heard the rider say. He reached for the sword hanging on his belt. She grabbed his arm and jerked it back, keeping his blade out of reach. He twisted his arm, trying to make her loose her grip. With his other hand he yanked the horse's reign to the left, turning it toward a building. He jammed the spurs on his feet into the horse's side, goading it forward. It raced forward toward the building. As they got closer to the brick wall, Maxine got a strange feeling, like she was flying. Like the horse was no longer solid beneath her. Like she was moving forward on her own momentum. The horse and rider passed through the solid wall of the building, but Maxine ran right smack into the cement. A moment later she fell, hitting the ground on her back.
"Owwwwwww." she moaned.
Her already sore nose had been hit again. Unsteadily, she got to her feet and wiped at the blood draining from her nostrils with her sleeve. To her left she spotted the door leading into the building. She went through the doors, finding herself in some kind of office building. The employees were in a panic, many of them hiding behind their desks. It was clear that the rider had been this way.
"Which way did he go?" she asked them. They all pointed towards the back of the building. She ran that way and kept asking the same question. People kept pointing farther back. She kept going and exited through a back door. She found herself in a alley with a couple of dumpsters full of shredded paper. The sound of hoof beats to her left drew her attention, and she saw the horseman making tracks for the mouth of the alley. Another twenty feet and he was going to be in the open street.
Maxine stepped out into the alley and grabbed the side of one of the dumpsters. She gave it a yank and hefted it into the air. With a "graugh!!" she pivoted, swinging the dumpster up and over her. She pitched it like you would pitch a baseball. The dumpster clanged down the alley, clonking off of the walls and crashing through a fire escape. It hit the ground on one corner, ricocheted and bounced back up into the air. It slammed into the back of the horse and rider, hitting them hard enough to stop them in their tracks.
The horse stumbled, looking like it was going weak in the knees. It stumbled to the side and fell against the wall of the building. They started to loose their solidity, going blurry and transparent. Then, with a shudder, they dissolved. In their place was left a naked man.
He looked like he was in his mid twenties, very skinny with a pale complexion and black hair. He was on his knees , trying to use the wall next to him to help him get to his feet.
Maxine just stood there for a moment staring at him. What ever she had thought would happen when she threw the dumpster, that wasn't it. She shook herself out of her trance and started down the alley towards the man.
He got to his feet and struggled to find his balance. Still leaning against the wall for support he turned toward her and watched her as she came closer.
"He's not you enemy, Miss Chalmers, and neither am I"
"Who are you?" asked Maxine. "And what do you have to do with all of this?"
"I am the Phantom Master." he told her. "I control him."
"Nice costume. You're under arrest."
"You haven't caught me yet." he said. He pushed himself out away from the wall, getting steadier now. "And why would you want to? We're helping you. Don't tell me that anyone is going to miss the people we've killed."
"We don't need that kind of help. You're a murderer and you make me sick. Are you going to come along peacefully or do I have to beat you into the ground?"
In answer, the man took a martial arts pose. Max gritted her teeth and cursed under breath. She was hoping that he would go peacefully. She really didn't want to do any hand to hand fighting with a naked man. There was nothing more awkward then throwing down with a naked opponent. It didn't seem to bother him at all. He just stood there with all of his bits and pieces hanging out in the open, ready to take her on.
Max skipped forward, bring her hands up to block any blows her might try to launch at her. When she was still five feet away from him, he lashed out with his right arm. She didn't know what he was doing at first, she was still well out of swinging range. Then she felt something grab the front of her shirt. She looked down, and could see nothing there. Her shirt was bunched up, though, like an invisible hand was grabbing it. Then she was flying to the side and slamming into the wall. The naked man had thrown her in pantomime at the same time. He threw a punch with left hand and she felt a sharp crack on the right side of her head.
Max scrambled to her feet and jumped again at the naked man. He threw a forward kick into the air and Maxine took an invisible blow on the chin. He reached out with both hands and made claw shapes with them. Maxine felt something grab her forearms. He threw his head forward violently and Maxine's nose broke again. Her arms were released and she stumbled back wards, barely able to get her eyes open. They kept crossing, and she couldn't focus on her opponent.
"We're not that different, you and I." she heard him say. " I saw you that day, the day when you tried to arrest Paul Heston. You weren't too gentle with him. I wonder how close you were to doing what I do." He paused for a moment. "I wonder why you got so angry. It was those kids in their chains. They really made you mad, didn't they? Perhaps we have more in common than I thought. Perhaps, you too were raised surrounded by bars, chains and bad men."
Max blinked the tears out of her watering eyes and glared at the blurry shape of the naked man.
"Struck a chord, have I?" There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice. He crouched down and then jumped into the air. His leap took him twenty five feet into the air onto the remains of the fire escape Maxine had destroyed earlier. He clambered up the rickety metal steps, making his way to the roof.
"Think about what I said." he called down to her. She watched him disappear over the top of the building and knew that there was no way she could catch up with him. She leaned back against the alley wall and then let herself slide to the ground. She wore a scowl on her face. She really hated it when they got away.

"I let him get away." she said to her father when she got back to the court house. A couple of cops had offered to drive her the mile back but she had turned them down, opting instead to walk the distance and allow herself to cool off. By the time she got back to where John was waiting for her she wasn't so angry anymore. Just a little depressed. She had wanted to prove herself to him and she had failed horribly.
"They get away sometimes." said John. "You'll get another chance. From what you've told me, this guy is a repeat offender. I doubt he'll stop now. You'll get him next time."
"You never let them get away." she said. "You always get your man."
"I wish that were true. I've had them slip off the hook, too. Besides, there's a couple hundred years of experience on my side. You've only been doing this for a few months. You're going to be a great cop, Maxine, but it takes time."
This was starting to feel a little too much like the lectures he gave her when she was a teen. She changed the subject. "When do you have to be back?"
"We're supposed to leave here in half an hour." said John. "You know how it is. There's always work to do when you're a Ranger."
She pouted that he had to leave so soon. "I wish we had more time."
"You could always take some time off and come down to Texas and visit sometime. Daphne asks about you all of the time."
"Maybe I'll do that in a couple of months. It would be nice to see every body on the base again."
"Do you have many friends up here?"
"A few." she said. "My partner is a good guy. He runs his mouth a lot, but he's got a good heart. I live with his mom and she's very sweet to me."
"You have anybody special?"
Max smiled. "There's someone. He's a police photographer." She was already starting to forget about loosing her perp earlier. It was just nice to be talking to her dad again, just like old times.
"Does he treat you well?"
"I wouldn't be with him if he didn't. You know that, dad."
"When do I get to meet him?" asked John.
"Maybe I'll bring him to Texas with me when I come. You have to promise to behave yourself, though. No Terminator impressions or anything."
"You're boyfriends never have any sense of humor."
"They might think it's funny if they knew it was a joke first. I think they miss the joke when they have to change thier pants. Promise me, Dad."
"I promise that I'll be good." he told her.
"Then I'll put in for some time off in a couple of months."
They continued to talk until it was time for John to leave. She walked him back to the gunship and gave him a hug before he could get on board.
"Thank you." she told him.
"What for?" he asked.
"Everything. Everything you've ever done for me."
"Max, honey, by being my daughter you've repaid me a thousand times over. Any man with you for a daughter could consider himself the luckiest man in the world."
She held onto him for a little longer, resting her head on his broad metal chest plate. She could hear his mechanical heart pumping away in there and it reminded her of those first nights when he had brought her home. The nightmares she suffered had been so bad and she was so scared of being alone that she would sneak into his room where he sat recharging. She would crawl up into his lap and fall alseep with her head on his chest, listening to his heart pump.
Reluctantly, she let him go. He told her good bye and then walked up the ramp to the gunship. A minute later, the gunship lifted off and turned south. She waved as it disappeared into the distance.

That night, Janet shook Maxine and woke her up.
"There's someone at the door for you." she said.
Maxine blinked her eyes, trying to wake up. "What time is it?"
'A quarter to two." said Janet. She looked as tired as Maxine felt.
Max crawled out of bed and grabbed a robe from the hook on the back of her bedroom door. "Did they say what they want?"
"No. They look very serious, though. They also look like military."
That scared her. Had something happened to her father? She walked to the front door and opened it up, afraid of what she might hear. There were three men standing out there, all of them dressed in uniforms. The twin lightning bolts on thier shoulder patches said that they were United Nations men. Why would they send United Nations people if something had happened to her dad?
"Maxine Chalmers?" said the man in front.
"Yes?"
"We were sent to ask for your help."

Half an hour later she was dressed and came out the front door putting on her jacket. The men had inisted that she come with them. Because of security concerns, they did not feel comfortable discussing thier business in front of Janet. Maxine had gotten dressed as fast as she could and rushed out the door. Two of the men were already sitting in the front of their car, and the third was holding the back door open for her. She got in and slid all the way over, making room for him to get in, too. The driver started the car and they lifted off into the air.
"I'd like to know what this is about, now." said Max.
The man in the passenger seat turned around so he could look at her. "What I am about to say to you is confidential. You are to tell no one. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Are you aware of the situation in Hong Kong? (Sansker 2200: A Change of Heart...read it.)"
"With the vampires?" asked Maxine.
"That's right. The UN made the decision tonight that we are going to stop that situation. We have been instructed to list our nations strongest SPB's (super powered beings) and choose from that list the individuals that would best fit our needs. You are on that list. We are asking for your help."
"Why me? There are lots more stronger people around here. Mr Wonderful for one."
" He's a very nice man, but we're looking for someone who is more of a thinker, if you catch my meaning. You have a good record going with the police, you have a good scholastic record and though it's not common knowledge, we are aware of who your father is. We feel you would benefit our mission greatly, Miss Chalmers."
"What are we going to be doing?"
"Irradicating the Vampire Threat in Hong Kong."
Max looked out the window while she thought about it, watching the lights of the city speeding by below her. "Are we going to kill them?"
"We will do whatever we have to do to nuetralize the threat. If they end it peacefully, we will be content with arresting the leaders. If they fight us, we are instructed to show no mercy."
She thought about her father and the daemonites in Atlantic City. What would he have done if he was in her place. She realized that she already knew the answer.
"I'll do it." she said.



~Fin-Fan-Fic-Fanatics~Letters and comments from readers. Do I rock or do I suck? Write me and tell me what you think. If you don't want your comments put in this letters column, or if you want them taken out, please let me know.

After a bunch of procrastinating, rewrites and writers block, Dragon 2200 # 8 is finally out. And I've yanked most of my hair out. I have this file I keep of all the stuff I edit out and rewrite and it double in size this time around. I'm finally happy with the direction I'm taking it. I've always wanted to finish off my Sansker 2200 series and this will be my opportunity to do that.
Here be the letters:

The Doc
Man, dude, I gotta say. I was hella impressed by your story. This's my first time reading them, and I only got to issue 3, but i'll be sure to finish the rest soon. I wasn't sure what to expect at first, but your elaborately descriptive passages drew me in pretty quickly. I mean, who else takes time to describe a dude talking with his mouth full, and spitting out fragments of pickle, bread, and what have yee? Pretty awesome, man. Makes me wanna get on the ball and finally get my own 'Children of the Hourglass' yarn up 'n' runnin'.

The Laboratory (Home of the aforementioned children.)

As always, it's cool to hear from a new reader. Those first few issues, I spent a lot of time developing the personalities for the main characters of the series. I see so many fan fic series that people write that are justreally skeletal when it comes to characters. I figure, let you get to know these people and you will care all the more when big things happen to them. It seems to be a formula that works. Thanks for the kind words, drop by again.

You know, even though you said you hate drawing the covers to issue 1 and 3 weren't half bad.
The Former Forum Art Critic

Man, do I hate drawing. It's one of the most frustrating things in my life (aside from the five year old). The reason the first cover looks so good is because I had the help of inker and colorist extrordinare Sheldon Parsons. He is a kick ass artist in his own right and puts me to shame with everything he draws. You can see his art here. If you want to see the rest of my artwork, go here. I have a bunch of photomanips, quite a few drawings and some wallpapers in there.

hey there, dude.

Ya know, I hate fan fic stuff more than anything. I dunno, it's just always....really bad. I'm
not much of a reader, either. Never have been. I'm more of a visual guy, I guess. You've had
this little Dragon thing going on for quite a while and I've always supported it even though I
never read it. Well, today I decided to read it for the first time. I just finished reading the
intro deal and I gotta tell you--I am impressed. I printed out the first issue so I can read it
in my leisure time. It's just a lot of fun, it reads really smooth and it's Dragon related! It's
a winner. Folks have been going on about it for a long time now, but I JUST now got around to
start reading it. I like it a lot. Which says a lot because I hate everything :^) I suppose
that's about it.

I wish you nothing but the best.

--Mark

Thank you. The majority of the fan fic is pretty bad but there are quite a few jewels out there. I hope this series continues to impress you. Thanks again.

While there was something oddly familiar about the beginning, with the
children telling what they wanted in the story, I totally did not see
the ending coming, where grandma and grandpa turn out to be Skylar and
Fen. After I read it, though, that seemed familiar, too. Not a
complaint- supposedly, there's only about 19 plots you could ever choose
from (or 11, or 7, or 3, depending on who you ask). You seem to have
knack for tapping into plots or themes that are very familiar; even if
you can't quite remember where you've heard them before. Kudos.

Maybe stuff seems so familiar because of the way I get inspired by stuff I read and watch. When I read a book or watch a movie I'm always thinking, If I were the one making this, I would have done this or that differently. Stories, characters and plots spring from that. Brother Two Legs was inspired by a combination of The Talisman, Beauty and the Beast, Discworld, and a hundred other things.

Similar to the "real pussycat" comment, in my last e-mail, concerning
Dragon 2200 #6, it seems you've characterized another idiom in Fen- a
young, male lyncanthrop in a wool pullover? Can you say "wolf in
sheep's clothing?" Ha! LOL! I love a good play-on-words; especially
if you can make a good character out of it. Very cool, Mr. Campo.

These things aren't intentional, but they crack me up when you pick them out.

One other thing: I thought you'd said that you and your wife were
working on the children's story? Sooo... how come only your name graces
the by-line, chum? Just wondering. Not fishing for a name or anything,
but even us bachelors know that you don't miss a chance to give your
significant other credit where credit is due. :>)

Because I wrote the story. She used her arts and crafts skills to make the actual books. The actual books give her credit. I wouldn't steal her credit. (cause I'm afraid of her. She's mean like that.) Her name is Dott.

Anyway, on to D2200 #7: Cool. Jumped right into things... right into
the sack... right into action... just right into it. I was disappointed
that you didn't get to the part about Heston meeting the ghost again,
but I'll be back for more. And of course, that's the intention, isn't
it? Yes, indeedy. Well, it's gettin' long, so I better jet. Later,
and kudos on both stories.

Sincerely,
C.L. Bishop

As you know by now, Heston and the ghost did meet again, and Heston met his end. (I say the dirty bugger deserved it.) Thanks for writing. I appreciate it.

The Crow: A Sinister Tune
http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo/ARNY.html

The Crow: Dark Age
http://www.angelfire.com/or/crowffa/darkage.html

The Crow: Leaving the Game
http://www.angelfire.com/or/crowffa/leavingthegame.html

Sansker:2200
Sansker: A Change of Heart (incomplete at this time)
http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/2200.html

Sin City: Postcards from Maui
http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo/sincitypfm.html

Sin City: Friends
http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo/sin.html

Spawn: 1899
http://angelfire.com/or/bcampo/DORT.html

Sansker: Strike of Midnight (only one issue, incomplete)
http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/strikeofmidnight.html