Source: Page 26 of White Noise Keywords: "silence," "time," "folds"

From: TIFFER003 <tiffer003@aol.com> Subject: [JP] Atomic Knights #2 Date: 19 July 1997 Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative

Jenifer Robbins sat alone in the cold alcove room on the third floor of Knights Manor, the Atom Moth's mansion. As Druid, weilder of the mystic blasts, she had faced adventure, danger and tradegy. But none compared with what happened today. Monty Kelly, the sweetest boy she had ever known, had died in the battle with the Behemoth. Tears strewned from her eyes, twisting down the endless folds, ravines and caverns of her blanket on her bed, all converging into a puddle, a lake of sorrow and an ocean of might-have-beens. She smashed her hand into it, looking for some releif, but finding none as only more came out. Her reflection was in the puddle, and, as she squooshed it, another reflection came into veiw. Warren Queen, known the world over as Mighty Midget. "Eh, sport? Upset are you?" She sighed, looking deeply into Warren's eyes. "Yes." "So is everyone, Jen. I miss 'im. But life, "he began with a pause," life doesn't give us much time for mourning. I've lost many people, Jen, and I've stopped crying, because it hurts too much. Don't let yourself be wounded deeply. Right now..? You have a big hole in yer heart. It will heal, like most things, with time. But that you must allow it. There's going to be a cut there, a cut you'll never forget, but a gash none the less. Its going to scar, your heart, but if you accept his death, then it won't cut too deep to heal. Life does allow time to greive, but not much." She intook a deep breath. "Thanks, Warren... but I need some time to myself right now." "Understand, Jen. Now, you take care of yourself. Don't want your aunt Gredel to come knocking on our doorstep, demanding your return. We've already lost Monty. We don't want to lose you, too." The vertically challenged man walked straight past Cyrano and the Atom Sting. Cyrano scratched his stubby chin, his eyes red enough to cry, but no tears would come. For I must be strong, he thought, if I am to keep the illusion I have given the others. Veronica Phillips- Pollen, wife of the Atom Sting, turned to the mysterious master of blades beside her. "Thank you for walking with me, Cyrano..... its been so hard since Monty's death." "It wasn't a problem, Veronica, though I still beleive the battlefeild was no place for a mere boy. Let alone your cousin." "Thank you," she said, her eyebrows arced angerly as tears filled her pupils, "for helping me cope with this, you-- you-- cold- hearted, blade- weilding.... monster!" "Veronica.... I didn't mean..." He was cut short by the sudden flush of tears as she left him alone in the hall way. He stood, drooping, his contenaunce fluxating between anger, sorrow, remorse and passivness. He was the master of swords, damn it! He didn't deserve this. Nor did she that. But still, he was a man... a stronger man than Reginald Pollen or Warren Queen would ever be! He didn't need them. He didn't need anybody!! He was a loner all his life, so he could be one now. But... why would he ever want to leave. He felt like.... he belonged. No one ever treated him with love, so why should he with anyone else? Because he needed a chance, someone to latch onto, whether he liked it or not. He would have to find her, and apologize. Veronica knocked as she entered Reginald's room. The Atom Moth still had his armor on, with the exception of the head peice, the helmet waiting on the floor. His face was grim with silence, as he stood, his hands on the window sill, looking down upon the world, as if everything he knew or cared for was lost. He did not seem to acknowledge the knock, but after moments or dread silence, he looked to her out of the corner of his eye. "Come in." His wife walked towards him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Her tear- filled eyes made contact, if even for only a moment, with his. He did not cry. He brooded, his heart filled not with sorrow but remorse and guilt. His hair was a mess, the ponytail gone. His left cheek was wet with blood, seemingly self inflicted by "stinging" himself. He blamed himself for everything. "Veronica... you must go, for now." She understood and left the room, not seeing in his eyes events of the past playing out before him.... Fifteen years ago. The city of Pennsville. Its hero was not the great William Penn, but a relativly new, teenage face of.... the Atom Moth. Christmas. The high-flying stinging wonder had promised a Christmas display of flight and acrobatics. And, that night, it was crisp. So crisp was the air he could feel it now, in the present. He remembered, putting on his helmet, flying from the loft towards the moon. He remembered the smell of a deadly gas, and the sight of his hated, future archnemesis. "I, Doctor Beetle, master of electronics, do stand here tonight to wish you all a merry Christmas indeed. In the spirit of giving and recieving, I ask for three million dollars in cash. Having hacked my way into the city's computer, I know that there's exactly 3.5 in the bank. Now, if I donot receive my gift, I will give you this gift." The maniac paused, stepped back, revealing a tank of a dangerous green gas. "You have four minutes." The young hero considered the situation. The man, dressed like a red and yellow beetle, the tank of gas, the ticking clock. If I destroy the gas, he thought, with a high- power sting, I'll save the city. Powering up to maxinum ability, the megahuman flew down, releasing the blast. "Ah," said the Doctor, "you must be the city's hero I have heard so much about. Strange, most heroes don't detonate gas bombs..." "Nooo..." struggled the young Moth, falling from the exhaustion of the blast. His head spun with images. And he awoke, hours later, among wretched, twisted bodies: his friends, family.... others who were closer. All dead. And it was his fault. Monty Kelly was dead, and it was his fault. Copyright 1997 Tom Russell. Justice Press. NEXT: The Atomic Knights fight... the Salem Solution!

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