Before…
Mattie Franklin was not connoisseur of food, but she knew what didn’t like.
“This,” she made a face, the teen cringing as she sat on a roof edge, her feet dangling high above the city streets of the forever crowded Manhattan. She resisted the urge to spit it out, swallowing the mouthful of dough, cheese and other, unidentifiable ingredients with supreme force of will. “This is the worst pizza I’ve ever had.”
“But,” her companion, the silver haired youth by the name of Johnny Gallo was quick to defend himself, “you got it fast.” He was likewise sat beside her, perilously positioned at the apex of the high-rise residential complex, one that well beyond the financial means of both of them.
“I think I would have preferred not getting it at all,” Mattie remarked, making another face and sticking out her tongue, perhaps hoping that some fresh air would cleanse her of the aftertaste. She made a point of closing the pizza box placed between them, wishing that she could also place a ward upon it to contain evil.
Perhaps if she had aspired to be Doctor Strange as opposed to Spider-Man, she would be able to.
“Look,” Johnny sighed, getting defensive. “I don’t make the pizza…”
“You just deliver it,” Mattie clarified, eyeing up the sleeve of her old teammates jacket and wondering if he would notice if she wiped her fingers off on it. She decidedly did not want to lick them clean.
“Exactly,” the former Slinger, former New Warrior, former vigilante in general reasoned.
“Like the bearer of bad news,” Mattie patted him on the back, smirking in distracting fashion. Johnny shook his head, and the teen girl took mercy, “Alright, I admit, it’s the quickest I’ve ever gotten a Pizza.”
“Damn right,” the older youth nodded, accepting the validation and not quite realising that he had just been used as a napkin.
“So,” Mattie, looking marginally more serious, nudged the young man’s elbow with her own. Of all the former New Warriors, he was the only one she’d really stayed in touch with. “This is really it; this is you now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, for just a second looking pensive. “For now, at least. It’s a job.”
“No more being Ricochet?” Mattie questioned. She’d made a similar decision herself, albeit for different reasons.
“I’m still Ricochet,” Johnny stated, although the conviction wasn’t quite there. “It’s just time that Ricochet paid some bills.” He paused for a moment, before becoming aware that the girl that he had come think of as a sibling was staring at him, “What?”
Noncommittal, she shrugged.
Johnny shook his head and sighed, standing quickly and pulling his mask up, the silver haired youth disguising his identity with the visage of his once heroic alter ego.
“I’ve got to go,” he slung his delivery bag back over his shoulders, readying himself to head back to the pizza parlour for a fresh pick up. “New York won’t feed itself.”
“Hey Johnny,” she stopped him at the last second, pursing her lips in thought. “You really think that we can do this? Be normal?”
“I hope so,” he shrugged again before stepping forwards and diving off the roof edge, plummeting earthwards towards a flagpole with superhuman dexterity. “I don’t have it in me anymore to be otherwise.”
Mattie Franklin was not connoisseur of food, but she knew what didn’t like.
“This,” she made a face, the teen cringing as she sat on a roof edge, her feet dangling high above the city streets of the forever crowded Manhattan. She resisted the urge to spit it out, swallowing the mouthful of dough, cheese and other, unidentifiable ingredients with supreme force of will. “This is the worst pizza I’ve ever had.”
“But,” her companion, the silver haired youth by the name of Johnny Gallo was quick to defend himself, “you got it fast.” He was likewise sat beside her, perilously positioned at the apex of the high-rise residential complex, one that well beyond the financial means of both of them.
“I think I would have preferred not getting it at all,” Mattie remarked, making another face and sticking out her tongue, perhaps hoping that some fresh air would cleanse her of the aftertaste. She made a point of closing the pizza box placed between them, wishing that she could also place a ward upon it to contain evil.
Perhaps if she had aspired to be Doctor Strange as opposed to Spider-Man, she would be able to.
“Look,” Johnny sighed, getting defensive. “I don’t make the pizza…”
“You just deliver it,” Mattie clarified, eyeing up the sleeve of her old teammates jacket and wondering if he would notice if she wiped her fingers off on it. She decidedly did not want to lick them clean.
“Exactly,” the former Slinger, former New Warrior, former vigilante in general reasoned.
“Like the bearer of bad news,” Mattie patted him on the back, smirking in distracting fashion. Johnny shook his head, and the teen girl took mercy, “Alright, I admit, it’s the quickest I’ve ever gotten a Pizza.”
“Damn right,” the older youth nodded, accepting the validation and not quite realising that he had just been used as a napkin.
“So,” Mattie, looking marginally more serious, nudged the young man’s elbow with her own. Of all the former New Warriors, he was the only one she’d really stayed in touch with. “This is really it; this is you now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, for just a second looking pensive. “For now, at least. It’s a job.”
“No more being Ricochet?” Mattie questioned. She’d made a similar decision herself, albeit for different reasons.
“I’m still Ricochet,” Johnny stated, although the conviction wasn’t quite there. “It’s just time that Ricochet paid some bills.” He paused for a moment, before becoming aware that the girl that he had come think of as a sibling was staring at him, “What?”
Noncommittal, she shrugged.
Johnny shook his head and sighed, standing quickly and pulling his mask up, the silver haired youth disguising his identity with the visage of his once heroic alter ego.
“I’ve got to go,” he slung his delivery bag back over his shoulders, readying himself to head back to the pizza parlour for a fresh pick up. “New York won’t feed itself.”
“Hey Johnny,” she stopped him at the last second, pursing her lips in thought. “You really think that we can do this? Be normal?”
“I hope so,” he shrugged again before stepping forwards and diving off the roof edge, plummeting earthwards towards a flagpole with superhuman dexterity. “I don’t have it in me anymore to be otherwise.”
ISSUE 2
"SHATTERED GLASS"
PART 2
BY
EMMA WOODS
"SHATTERED GLASS"
PART 2
BY
EMMA WOODS
Now…
“Defiantly not Spider-Man!!” Ricochet yelled in the cramp confines of the sewers, his startled yell echoing back and forth between the fetid walls in ominous fashion. He backstepped or, thanks to his superhuman agility, all but vaulted himself into reverse as the six-armed perversion of an arachnid hero bounded towards him, fanged maw gaping wide and taloned fingers extended.
Barely avoiding having his face chewed off his skull, Johnny Gallo flipped backwards onto his hands, his gloved appendages splashing deep in contaminated water before spiralling back up onto his feet, staying just ahead of the red and blue coloured monstrosity that was only known as Doubleganger. Shifting his momentum on a dime, Ricochet bounded forwards, ducking low and leaping beneath a renewed lunge of his cannibalistic foe, darting forwards to create whatever distance was still possible in the claustrophobic tunnels.
Upon landing, he tucked, rolled, pivoted and crouched, slickly pulling from his sleeves a duo of disks that he held ready, watching as Doubleganger likewise navigated his environment with inhuman grace.
The creature, however, was a horror to behold, multi-limbed and skittering up the darkened, curved walls with twitching, unnatural movements that chilled any observer to the bone.
Clinging to the ceiling, Doubleganger arched his head back and screeched, pointed jaw distended wide as he wailed in warning.
“Nope,” Ricochet decided, expertly flinging the duo of adamantium laced disks into the air towards the abomination that, once, could have replaced Spider-Man. “Less of that, please!”
The two projectiles shot through the air, clearing the distance in less than an eye blink and yet, still, Doubleganger was too swift to be caught unawares. Contorting in a manner that should be impossible, the creature launched itself free from its perch and, with predatorial intensity, bounded back towards Gallo, twisting and turning his misshapen frame to deftly avoid the impending, blunt force trauma.
Missing him by a hair’s breadth, the disks bounced off the brickwork and, living up to their owner’s namesake, ricocheted off one wall and rebounded off the opposite, doing so a half dozen or so times in a smattering of seconds, seemingly picking up both speed and momentum as they did so…
Doubleganger bounded towards Johnny, saliva dripping from his jaws, the one-time adventurer crouched low and waiting… as his disks returned, his expertly aimed toss returning the projectiles to sender, albeit slamming into the back of the Spider-Man imposter’s skull on the way to him.
With the solid, one, two connections to the back of his head sending Doubleganger reeling, Ricochet took advantage, flipping himself backwards and slamming his right foot upwards into the underside of his already stunned foes jaw. The young man returned to his feet a second later, deftly catching both of his previously hurled weapons back out of the air as he did so and, with his adrenaline surging, the former New Warrior was feeling pretty pleased with himself.
Unfortunately, Doubleganger was far hardier than anything based on human anatomy should be. With a fresh wail, the monstrosity was already moving, bodily hurling himself into Gallo with enough incredible force to knock the air clean out of him and send them both barrelling to the ground.
“Defiantly not Spider-Man!!” Ricochet yelled in the cramp confines of the sewers, his startled yell echoing back and forth between the fetid walls in ominous fashion. He backstepped or, thanks to his superhuman agility, all but vaulted himself into reverse as the six-armed perversion of an arachnid hero bounded towards him, fanged maw gaping wide and taloned fingers extended.
Barely avoiding having his face chewed off his skull, Johnny Gallo flipped backwards onto his hands, his gloved appendages splashing deep in contaminated water before spiralling back up onto his feet, staying just ahead of the red and blue coloured monstrosity that was only known as Doubleganger. Shifting his momentum on a dime, Ricochet bounded forwards, ducking low and leaping beneath a renewed lunge of his cannibalistic foe, darting forwards to create whatever distance was still possible in the claustrophobic tunnels.
Upon landing, he tucked, rolled, pivoted and crouched, slickly pulling from his sleeves a duo of disks that he held ready, watching as Doubleganger likewise navigated his environment with inhuman grace.
The creature, however, was a horror to behold, multi-limbed and skittering up the darkened, curved walls with twitching, unnatural movements that chilled any observer to the bone.
Clinging to the ceiling, Doubleganger arched his head back and screeched, pointed jaw distended wide as he wailed in warning.
“Nope,” Ricochet decided, expertly flinging the duo of adamantium laced disks into the air towards the abomination that, once, could have replaced Spider-Man. “Less of that, please!”
The two projectiles shot through the air, clearing the distance in less than an eye blink and yet, still, Doubleganger was too swift to be caught unawares. Contorting in a manner that should be impossible, the creature launched itself free from its perch and, with predatorial intensity, bounded back towards Gallo, twisting and turning his misshapen frame to deftly avoid the impending, blunt force trauma.
Missing him by a hair’s breadth, the disks bounced off the brickwork and, living up to their owner’s namesake, ricocheted off one wall and rebounded off the opposite, doing so a half dozen or so times in a smattering of seconds, seemingly picking up both speed and momentum as they did so…
Doubleganger bounded towards Johnny, saliva dripping from his jaws, the one-time adventurer crouched low and waiting… as his disks returned, his expertly aimed toss returning the projectiles to sender, albeit slamming into the back of the Spider-Man imposter’s skull on the way to him.
With the solid, one, two connections to the back of his head sending Doubleganger reeling, Ricochet took advantage, flipping himself backwards and slamming his right foot upwards into the underside of his already stunned foes jaw. The young man returned to his feet a second later, deftly catching both of his previously hurled weapons back out of the air as he did so and, with his adrenaline surging, the former New Warrior was feeling pretty pleased with himself.
Unfortunately, Doubleganger was far hardier than anything based on human anatomy should be. With a fresh wail, the monstrosity was already moving, bodily hurling himself into Gallo with enough incredible force to knock the air clean out of him and send them both barrelling to the ground.
**********
“HEY!!” Mattie Franklin complained as she stood aghast on the sidewalk, suddenly doused in a great deal of freezing, polluted rainwater thrown up by the passing of a speeding car. As vocal as her protest was, it fell impotently on deaf ears, the perpetrator of her current discomfort and now sodden jeans long gone down the busy streets. “Unbelievable,” she lamented, forlorn at the now dishevelled state of her attire before releasing a deep and sorrowful sigh, readjusting her backpack stacked full of textbooks.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Mattie muttered, continuing on her way to class amid the hubbub of humanity.
“This is the darkest timeline.”
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Mattie muttered, continuing on her way to class amid the hubbub of humanity.
“This is the darkest timeline.”
**********
Were his circumstances not so dire, Ricochet would have folded foetal with his need to gag and wretch, the stench of the monstrosity’s breadth practically overwhelming. Pinned beneath the muscle laced mass of Doubleganger, Johnny was forced to strain for every single inch of leverage, jutting his head sharply to one side to just barely avoid his assailants’ massive jaws snap shut about his cranium.
“Sh*t!” he cursed, struggling as his multi limbed foe sought to make him a main course. “Get!” he grimaced through clenched teeth, sloshing in fetid sewage water and fighting for his life. With a deep inhale, he jammed his knee up against the Spider-Man imposters chest and, with an equally sharp exhale, he rolled backwards onto his shoulders, shoving Doubleganger free from atop of him with a forceful kick, “OFF!!”
With a screech, the red and blue abomination was flipped up, over and, much to Johnny’s chagrin, landed deftly on his taloned feet, nimbly riding out the toss that would have disorientated normal men. Skittering and hissing, Doubleganger scaled the walls of his dreary environment before splashing back down into the sewage, spittle spraying from its lips as its keen senses…
…for once couldn’t quite keep up, Ricochet on him on in a flash!
Johnny sprinted the short distance between them, leaping at the last moment before nailing Doubleganger with a solid dropkick. He hit hard, momentum lending his strike additional force that damn near buckled the reinforced ribcage of the six-armed killer and, at the very least, sent the base creature flailing.
Landing on his back, Ricochet immediately whipped back up to his feet, practically spring boarding to readiness with a sleek kip up. Doubleganger was equally quick to recover, drooling as it skidded and scrambled its way up onto all eight limbs, but Johnny’s adrenaline was surging, re-plucking a duo of disks from his jacket and, with a swift spin, tossed the projectiles into the air.
Swiftly, Doubleganger dodged aside one and then the other as it bounded forwards into a fresh leap, learning from its mistakes as the sleek missiles bounced off the walls and returned as swiftly as they had left.
Ricochet’s eyes opened wide just slightly as his weaponry of choice failed to make contact, his target evading both as they sliced through the air on their way back to him. He caught them but, as a curse almost made it to his lips, Doubleganger was on him before he could brace.
“Shi…” was all he managed before the distance between them became zero and, with a fanged maw stretched open wide and swallowing his vision, Johnny felt a blinding hot pain flash across his midriff…
“Sh*t!” he cursed, struggling as his multi limbed foe sought to make him a main course. “Get!” he grimaced through clenched teeth, sloshing in fetid sewage water and fighting for his life. With a deep inhale, he jammed his knee up against the Spider-Man imposters chest and, with an equally sharp exhale, he rolled backwards onto his shoulders, shoving Doubleganger free from atop of him with a forceful kick, “OFF!!”
With a screech, the red and blue abomination was flipped up, over and, much to Johnny’s chagrin, landed deftly on his taloned feet, nimbly riding out the toss that would have disorientated normal men. Skittering and hissing, Doubleganger scaled the walls of his dreary environment before splashing back down into the sewage, spittle spraying from its lips as its keen senses…
…for once couldn’t quite keep up, Ricochet on him on in a flash!
Johnny sprinted the short distance between them, leaping at the last moment before nailing Doubleganger with a solid dropkick. He hit hard, momentum lending his strike additional force that damn near buckled the reinforced ribcage of the six-armed killer and, at the very least, sent the base creature flailing.
Landing on his back, Ricochet immediately whipped back up to his feet, practically spring boarding to readiness with a sleek kip up. Doubleganger was equally quick to recover, drooling as it skidded and scrambled its way up onto all eight limbs, but Johnny’s adrenaline was surging, re-plucking a duo of disks from his jacket and, with a swift spin, tossed the projectiles into the air.
Swiftly, Doubleganger dodged aside one and then the other as it bounded forwards into a fresh leap, learning from its mistakes as the sleek missiles bounced off the walls and returned as swiftly as they had left.
Ricochet’s eyes opened wide just slightly as his weaponry of choice failed to make contact, his target evading both as they sliced through the air on their way back to him. He caught them but, as a curse almost made it to his lips, Doubleganger was on him before he could brace.
“Shi…” was all he managed before the distance between them became zero and, with a fanged maw stretched open wide and swallowing his vision, Johnny felt a blinding hot pain flash across his midriff…
**********
“Keys,” Mattie muttered quietly to herself whilst in an increasing state of exasperation, rummaging fruitlessly through the confines of her bag in search of the illusive items. “Keys,” she muttered again, growing short on patience as she stood outside her dinky apartment. “Come on, don’t make me break down my own door…”
“Everything ok?” one of her fellow tenants on the eighth floor questioned from down the hall, the young man in annoyingly high spirits.
“Fine!” Mattie forced a smile, anything to encourage the bystander to her crappy day to move on. “Everything’s fine,” she insisted, still blindly rummaging amongst her belongings. The calves of her jeans were still wet, her trainers remained sodden and all she wanted to do was go to bed and forget about this whole…
“Keys!” she announced victoriously, pulling them from her bag and exhaling a deep breath of relief. “Keys,” she continued to say to her neighbour down the hall as if that explained everything. “I have keys. Everything is fine.”
“Ok,” her neighbour nodded back, painfully earnest in his politeness whilst letting himself into his own apartment. “Have a good night.”
“I will,” she insisted, retaining the pretence of a grin until he was out of sight. Not waiting a moment longer, she opened her front door and hustled her way inside, immediately kicking off her wet shoes and not caring where they flew. With equal indifference she dropped her bag of heavy books somewhere down the hallway and almost instantly began to undress, only one thought on her mind which was to jump into the shower.
She stopped the moment she realised that her window was open…
For a brief moment, she paused silently on the spot, measuring her options before, ducking low, she began to inch forwards down the corridor, her whole-body tense like a coiled spring. Steady to not make a sound, she noted the broken glass scattered across her carpet and, as she edged towards one corner that allowed her to peek into her living room, she spotted the smallest of movements. Someone was splayed out across the floor, and they were bleeding…
“Mattie,” an all too familiar voice croaked as her own breath caught in her throat. An instant later she was moving, all sense of subtlety abandoned as she dashed on over to her friend, Johnny Gallo bleeding out in her front room.
“Mattie,” he croaked again, one arm wrapped about his midriff as he couched up red.
“Shhh,” she attempted to console him, uncertain, hesitant on how to act.
“It won’t stop,” Ricochet rasped, the last of his strength pooling from his wounds. “It won’t stop,” he coughed, staring blankly into the void as he wounds refused to heal.
“Oh God, Mattie, it won’t stop…”
“Everything ok?” one of her fellow tenants on the eighth floor questioned from down the hall, the young man in annoyingly high spirits.
“Fine!” Mattie forced a smile, anything to encourage the bystander to her crappy day to move on. “Everything’s fine,” she insisted, still blindly rummaging amongst her belongings. The calves of her jeans were still wet, her trainers remained sodden and all she wanted to do was go to bed and forget about this whole…
“Keys!” she announced victoriously, pulling them from her bag and exhaling a deep breath of relief. “Keys,” she continued to say to her neighbour down the hall as if that explained everything. “I have keys. Everything is fine.”
“Ok,” her neighbour nodded back, painfully earnest in his politeness whilst letting himself into his own apartment. “Have a good night.”
“I will,” she insisted, retaining the pretence of a grin until he was out of sight. Not waiting a moment longer, she opened her front door and hustled her way inside, immediately kicking off her wet shoes and not caring where they flew. With equal indifference she dropped her bag of heavy books somewhere down the hallway and almost instantly began to undress, only one thought on her mind which was to jump into the shower.
She stopped the moment she realised that her window was open…
For a brief moment, she paused silently on the spot, measuring her options before, ducking low, she began to inch forwards down the corridor, her whole-body tense like a coiled spring. Steady to not make a sound, she noted the broken glass scattered across her carpet and, as she edged towards one corner that allowed her to peek into her living room, she spotted the smallest of movements. Someone was splayed out across the floor, and they were bleeding…
“Mattie,” an all too familiar voice croaked as her own breath caught in her throat. An instant later she was moving, all sense of subtlety abandoned as she dashed on over to her friend, Johnny Gallo bleeding out in her front room.
“Mattie,” he croaked again, one arm wrapped about his midriff as he couched up red.
“Shhh,” she attempted to console him, uncertain, hesitant on how to act.
“It won’t stop,” Ricochet rasped, the last of his strength pooling from his wounds. “It won’t stop,” he coughed, staring blankly into the void as he wounds refused to heal.
“Oh God, Mattie, it won’t stop…”
To Be Continued....