Hellboy III - Chapter 5Four Years Later
The Chamberlain, busy with his other duties about the palace, was not in the vestibule when the young princess crept in. She would never admit it to Eli and Micah, but the towering, faceless, black-armed guards frightened her. On the occasions her common-law cousins visited her, she walked past the figures with the same exterior ease her parents wore. Now however, with no eyes on her (as the guards certainly seemed to lack eyes), timidity betrayed her.
Her uncle, the ruling King Nuada, had gone inside moments before, and she would never allow him to see her afraid. He had defeated an entire room full of the mammoth black guards, so Mierles had once told her. Though the thought of a crowd of the dark soldiers converging on her lone uncle only served to render them more terrifying.
Odula had been sleeping when the king arrived, and by the time her mother sent a servant to wake her, court had already been called to session. It had taken her time to dry off and dres
Hellboy III Chapter 411 Months Later
"Then just click 'publish,' and you're done."
Nuala selected the interface button. "And the ones who access this can publish notes to me?"
"Yes, comments. I'm sure you'll have some before the day is out. Of course, some of them will inevitably be ... unkind." The two sat, alone, in throne room's antechamber, leaning over Abe's archaic BPRD issue laptop.
"I can comment back to them as well?"
"Yes. It's completely interactive. This is an excellent way to stay in contact with your grassroots supporters." After Nuala's pregnancy announcement, the disunified collection of human fans and Tolkien lovers had increased in numbers, sincerity, and solidarity. Though Abe had been managing her online public relations, Nuala had since requested he teach her the details and mechanics of internet communications so she could deal with them directly.
"They have been very helpful these past several weeks." Nuala exited the screen and delicately closed the screen onto the keyboard.
Aftermath of SacrificeThe library was unusually silent. No sound came from the stereo speakers, conversation, or even turning pages. The silence itself emanated a heavy presence that warned against disturbing it. Though, with the Bureau currently occupied by the loss of its four top agents, no one seemed very interested in the library, or Abe for that matter. Not even Manning had come to him, flustered, looking for some assurance that "quitting" was just a mood swing that would surely pass. Instead, it seemed that Abe had been quite forgotten.
While the lamps and ceiling lights remained dark, a few, straining embers ebbed away in the fireplace that not long ago had served as a vessel for Princess Nuala's last, desperate attempt to keep the golden army from her brother's control. In the tank, the unlit water stood still, but was hardly vacant. From the far, shaded corner, Abe felt his grief could fill the room several times over without leaving him. Even if a "Popular Songs of Misery" album had existed, he k
Ninety-Nine Point Nine PercentI give the man behind the counter the fake name under which I've registered the hotel room. He hands me the plastic key. There is a small lobby on my way to the elevator, and as I pass it I'm assaulted by one of the stock commercials that plagues every television station.
"Kills 99.9 percent of germs."
They think nothing of a statement like that. To them, it is nothing like "Kills 99.9 percent of gays."
Tonight it is a T.V. commercial that accosts me, but if not that, than it would be an internet add for hand sanitizer or anti-bacterial soap. The happy child using the foaming soap, the smiling mother keeping her family 'safe.' I would like to see the reaction to an anti-mutant soap. I don't even own a T.V., and yet I'm still subject to this genocidal propaganda.
Thankfully, the elevator is empty and I don't have to stand near the offensively 'clean' humans. The United States prides itself on being so germ-phobic, and looks down on the 'degrading' conditions that the third world
Re-Creation, part 6"But I'm really not a bad man. Love me and you'll see! To be good, all I ever needed was to be loved. If you loved me, I'd be gentle as a lamb and you could do whatever you pleased with me."
Erik, from The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux
Surely, he was still dreaming. Either that or he'd lost his sanity. Or he was going to die as soon as Wanda awoke.
Toad allowed himself to breathe again. He looked around with just his eyes. He made sure he could feel all of his body. Yes. He was definitely awake. And the fact that he held a few of Wanda's silken, auburn tresses in his hand confirmed that he had, in actuality, done it with the Scarlet Witch.
Mort quietly turned his head to look at her. She was facing him, still asleep, with most of her hair fallen over her shoulder. He'd always thought she had beautiful hair. He looked at his own webbed fingers wrapped around her soft curls. He heard her sigh, but her eyes remained closed.
Before she opened her eyes, a tidal wave o
Re-Creation, part 5"Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat ..."
from Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte
Mort parked the motorcycle, while Wanda went to unlock the door. As she did, she thanked him for driving her home again. He said, "You're welcome," as he watched the little girl next door put the final touches on her chalk mural. Inside, Wanda offered to cook dinner, so Mort occupied his mind by rewiring the kitchen light fixture so it was safe to use.
"Mortimer," she said, "I want to say thank you, for helping me these past weeks. It's really meant a lot to me, to have you here. You've been so kind to me. I ... I don't really know what would have become of me if you hadn't been here to take care of me." Wanda hadn't looked up from the pot she was stirring while she spoke.
Mort froze standing on the chair under the light. He was facing Wanda's back, and saw only her long hair, pinned