Makynlee Cova: Glass Ceiling Destroyer

 

If Nate Diaz can flex his biceps while he has a dude in a triangle choke, Makynlee Cova can pose while she's choking her own opponent. Girls and women don't have to be proper and pretty all the time. Men and boys can be vulnerable and soft. Fuck gender roles.

Enjoy Prison

Uncle Sam taught you the way of the fist

And that murder is the answer when you’re mildly pissed

And that you can blame your crimes on war trauma

Give your own friends trauma, lead to courtroom drama

They describe all the pranks you pulled upon them

And how you told them to take it like they’re manly men

And how you called them every bigoted slur in the book

Lifelong sentence, now you’re on the fucking hook

 

Enjoy prison! It’s the closest thing to war

Being a civilian was just too much of a bore

You went stir crazy without your automatic

Now you can throw fists for free without causing any panic

The prison guards turn the other cheek

While your rape victims can’t shit right for a week

While their purple bruises show the cell block who loses

Their broken bones couldn’t hold partition phones

 

Enjoy prison! Your dinner tastes like diarrhea

It’s like every ration meal since the war in Korea

Maggots here, flies there, maybe some long hair

Taxes could provide better, but the state doesn’t care

But that’s okay, because it reminds you of war

You’re the baddest motherfucker in the whole damn Corps

All those pushups and burpees prepared you for combat

If a riot broke out, you’d get your ass right on that

 

Enjoy prison! What’re they going to do?

Bump it up to never-ever? You’re already screwed

You forgot about solitary, oops, you fucked up

Ask the warden for forgiveness, he’ll say, “Shut up!”

It’s just the darkness and what’s left of your mind

As it eats itself alive just like it did in wartime

Are those pills used to treat the worst parts of you?

No, they’re pebbles, but you can swallow those too

 

Enjoy prison! Because you’re never getting out

You’re a POW with not one escape route

SEAL Team Six ain’t coming to save you

Just be thankful for the medal Uncle Sam gave you

It could have been currency in the prison economy

But you killed all your trust with the bloody sodomy

All you’ve ever wanted was a license to kill

But all you’re killing is time, it stands perfectly still

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 5

The top octave was alive with buzzing noises that prickled Lucy’s ear hairs. Must have been another lightning spell that King Harrison was conjuring up. Must have been how this story was going to end: the same way King Harrison’s life ended before he had stolen Loki as a bodily vessel. This was Lucy the Hammer’s destiny: a half-wiener dog cooked like the piece of meat she was named after. She held her friends tightly as if her armor was enough to shield them from a visit from the Angel of Death. If they were leaving Rainbow Ranch together, they’d cross the Rainbow Bridge together. The silver lining in that cloud? They’d never have to see King Harrison again and they’d never have to fight another pointless war against forces they couldn’t understand.

 

“Out of my face, you annoying tart!” belted Harrison. The buzzing continued, but was now accompanied by sounds of heavy swatting. “Go on, get out of here! Move it!”

 

Confusion didn’t weigh on Lucy’s heart nearly as heavily as grief and despair. She welcomed the new emotion as she turned to see what was up. The buzzing was not from a new lightning spell that would send them into the nothing. It was but an amethyst-colored fly flapping its little wings around Harrison’s face, a ghost of sorts. For someone who loved animals, he was quick to annoy when the lifeforms were slightly uglier than a puppy.

 

Harrison continued to swat at the ghost fly and the “annoying tart” dodged and weaved out of the way with minimal effort. His teeth gnashed together and his fists tightened as this microscopic creature got under…whatever was left of his skin. Even when the ghost fly tried to swoop out of Ozzie’s humble abode, Harrison, visibly frustrated, floated after the little dickens and swatted some more while grumbling and groaning through his slime-covered teeth.

 

Lucy, Ozzie, Callie, and Loki looked at each other with their heads tilted in perplexity. Lucy shrugged her shoulders before the four of them leapt to their feet and pitter-pattered outside to see what was going on. Lucy’s eyes widened and her tiny jaw dropped at the sight of their saviors. “Wow…it can’t be…I don’t believe it…” she whispered.

 

On one side of the snowy hill floated the ghost of King Harrison, a disgraced politician and sorcerer who couldn’t let go of his own demons, even at the expense of those who loved him. On the other side of the hill…King James stood with folded arms and a death stare scrawled across his bearded face. And speaking of death stares, nobody did them better than his necromancer confidant himself, Razor Ripley, whose magic was used to resurrect the fly and cause the momentary distraction. With a flick of Ripley’s bony finger, the magic left the fly’s body and drifted into the dark of space.

 

Both sides of this confrontation stared at each other with murderous intentions, fists clenched, lungs expanding and contracting with raspy flows, and deadly eyes that could have been weapons by themselves if not for the necessity of forged steel. Still in Ozzie’s doorway were the four animals who were responsible for exorcising Harrison’s ghost from Loki’s body. Razor Ripley knew they bore the responsibility and gave an ashen-eyed wink at Lucy, which instead of reassuring her, caused her to gulp and shiver. She could never get used to how creepy the necromancer looked even during moments of happiness.

 

King James uncrossed his arms and took a few steps forward, his steel boots crunching in the thick snow. His eyes never disengaged with Harrison’s furious gaze. “It’s over, brother,” said James. “Your quest for revenge was never going anywhere to begin with…and it has nowhere to go now. This whole conflict was little more than a waste of our time and resources. You could have ruled Rainbow Ranch with a kind heart and a wise mind. You could have asked for help if you needed it. And yet…you continued down your self-destructive path. For what reason, dear brother? Why did this need to happen?” No answer from Harrison, only fury. “Answer me, damn it!”

 

“And how exactly did you plan on helping me?” asked Harrison. “What could you have done to make this pain more bearable? I know! You could reach inside my head and pull out every demon that has ever spoken to me and told me this was a good idea! You can still do it now even as my physical form has turned to rotten waste! What are you waiting for, dear brother?! Do it! It’s the only way!”

 

Razor Ripley took a few steps forward until he was side-by-side with his royal master. “This sarcasm is unbecoming of you, Harrison. You bloody well knew what you needed to do. Talk through it all. Identify your emotions. Process the worst parts of your trauma. The healing would have been most difficult, but not impossible. All that being equal…you couldn’t be bothered to participate in your own rescue. That’s why you’re a ghost and everyone else is alive. And I do mean…everyone.”

 

From the bottom of the mountain, Lucy the Hammer’s old squad mates marched up the hill with weapons in hand and stoicism plastered on their jowly visages. Granted, they didn’t quite dry off from being washed down the power station, they were dogs and hygiene was at least the fourth or fifth item on their list of priorities. As Lucy’s heart dropped to her guts, she clutched her chest, smiled weakly, and tried to stifle a flood of tears that would for sure recreate what happened at the power station. Loki licked her face and got a giggle out of her. The tears would have to wait.

 

“As I said before, brother man…it’s over. Your worthless crusade is over,” said James.

 

The ghost of King Harrison cupped his hands and gathered an ample amount of fire energy, which swirled all around him, igniting a furious passion that was par for the course for a man with his demons. “Nothing is over until I say it’s over! This war will continue whether you’re too lazy to continue it or not!”

 

And just like that, Lucy had enough of this arrogant posturing. She proved him wrong before and she would do it again. She furrowed her eyebrows, set her hammer down, and rolled a snowball into her paws before launching it at the back of Harrison’s head.

 

“Ouch! You stupid dog!” bellowed Harrison.

 

“Death Rattle! FIRE!” commanded Razor Ripley. The snowball strike distracted Harrison long enough that he failed to defend himself from the one spell that could send a ghost into the endless void forever: the Death Rattle. That poor fly’s spirit floated away in short order, may his sacrifice never be forgotten. And after a jagged mini-tornado zipped across the hill, the Death Rattle spell found its mark.

 

Harrison’s ghostly essence contorted and twisted into multiple positions as it struggled to resist its inevitable fate. The morphing proved to make Lucy’s eyes widen and heart race faster than actual combat with this foe just moments earlier. Harrison’s head expanded like a balloon. His arms were growing and shrinking willy-nilly. His legs twisted up in a little knot. His stomach gurgled and boiled audibly enough to gag the dogs standing behind Ripley and King James. And then…Harrison’s ghostly body stretched and thinned out as it expanded to the sky. It stretched…and stretched…and stretched…until it was too thin to even exist anymore. And then…POOF! The glowing energy snuffed out and Harrison was but a distant memory. Such a shame he couldn’t get a proper send-off with his own funeral service, but coming back to life and fighting a meaningless war was a decision he made by himself…and one he would carry with him to eternity.

 

Silence took over the battlefield as everyone involved slowed down to process everything they just went through and saw for themselves. Lucy’s heartbeat steadied. Her eyes dried out and returned to normal size. Her heavy breathing had grown shallow. Everyone stood there and let the moment sink in. No more pointless revenge quests. No more insanity. No more wasted motion. Just a land of animals called Rainbow Ranch, where the abandoned and unloved could finally have a community of their own.

 

After a while of taking it all in, Lucy’s smile started to grow and she let out a few giggles. She picked up her oversized hammer and leapt into the air holding it overhead. “We did it!” The Shut Up Stupid Dogs squadron cheered, barked, and howled at the realization that this brutal struggle was over. Ozzie and Callie hugged each other and rekindled the love that was lost so long ago. Loki rushed over to his true owner and licked his bony toes while King James patted him on the head. Lucy continued to run, jump, and play while swinging her hammer in the air. “We did it! We did it, everyone! We gave that mean old man the old One, Two, Buckle Your Shoe!”

 

In her overexcitement, Lucy swung her hammer in the same spinning motion that caused her to belly flop at the power station. But this time…she landed on her feet. Silence overtook the mountain once again as everyone stared at Lucy’s celebratory dance. She actually did it. She landed on her feet. This just made her smile, spin, and dance even more. Wasn’t that what life in Rainbow Ranch was supposed to be about? Smiling, spinning, and dancing? Running, jumping, wrestling, and playing?

 

But now looking at the weapon of war in her hand, Lucy had a decision to make. She had grown comfortable enough in her role as a soldier protecting Rainbow Ranch from the worst of the worst. At the same time, she longed for the feeling of a tennis ball in her mouth, long-nailed hands scratching her belly, and eating sausages that exploded with juice in every bite. This wouldn’t be a decision she could make lightly, but it was one worth considering now that King Harrison was in the rear view.

"Eve: the Awakening" by Jenna Moreci

BOOK TITLE: Eve: the Awakening

AUTHOR: Jenna Moreci

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Science Fiction

GRADE: Pass

X-Men meets Mississippi Burning in Jenna Moreci’s debut novel, Eve: the Awakening. College student Evelyn Kingston is part of a race of powerful superhumans known as chimeras, the most hated culture in this futuristic world. After a lifetime of racist cruelty, Eve just wants to blend in as a normal human and leave her past behind. Studying at Billington University seems like her perfect escape until she learns that alien warriors known as Interlopers are murdering chimeras left and right. Having xenophobic humans and Interlopers to fight off all at once, it’s amazing that she gets any peace and quiet at all. Maybe running away isn’t the answer. Maybe confronting her demons is closer to the truth.

The racist characters that Eve has to put up with in this story are grating to read about, especially as they come in large doses all at once. The worst offenders of the bunch are easily Heather, Madison, and Hayden, who live up to the Mean Girls stereotypes in every way from being spoiled and rich to being downright nasty with their dialogue. Chin Dimple, a football jock in Eve’s combat class, is every bit as vicious with his fighting abilities as he is with his sexism and racism. Dr. Richards is the evil teacher that Pink Floyd warned us about: condescending, conformist, and intolerably angry. There are more villains in the book who act like Trump supporters on steroids. Much more! Sometimes it’s unbearable to read about, but that’s the whole point: to make readers uncomfortable and make them question the hatred around their own world.

In addition to characters the reader loves to hate, there are eventual allies for Eve that can be easily rooted for. The relationship she forms with fellow chimera Jason Valentine is charming on all levels, though you’ll have to wait patiently to get what you want out of this pairing. Dr. Clarke is a breath of fresh air when it comes to teachers since he’s progressive and caring instead of a blatant racist like everyone else. Even though Captain Ramsey, the combat instructor, is a hardnosed, tough guy teacher, it’s hard to root against him due to his sense of loyalty and genuinely wanting the best for Eve and her friends. Allies like these and many more come later in the story, but we as readers are thankful they’re here. After all of the hatred Eve endures up until that point, she could use a few heroes by her side. I like being able to escape from the horrible stuff every now and then, just like Eve wanted to escape from her past. Good on you, Ms. Moreci!

Let’s talk for a minute about the fight scenes, whether they’re from combat class, with Interlopers, or with other students. These scenes are so well-written that I can legitimately get excited for them whenever they arrive on the page. Every punch, every kick, every fired bullet, no matter what action is being performed in combat, you can bet your bottom dollar that it’ll hurt the reader as well as the characters who’re fighting. The way Jenna Moreci describes bruises, blood loss, broken bones, and explosions makes me believe that someone’s life really is at stake, which is how all fights should be portrayed. The higher the stakes, the more believability every fight has. Excellent work on this front!

The racism against chimeras as well as the drama of school can get on the reader’s nerves all too easily. But I urge you all to press on and not tap out so easily. This is a brilliantly-written book from beginning to end. The author makes life so difficult for Eve in this book that her odds of surviving at all are slim to none. The key word is surviving, because if she doesn’t get past these roadblocks, she will die. There’s no in between for Eve, no shortcuts to victory. She either lives or dies by her own prowess. That alone should be enough reason for you to pick up a copy of Eve: the Awakening. A passing grade is what Jenna Moreci deserves for her debut novel!

Zombie

“Read me the summary on this one,” said Gail Reinhold, a red trench coat donning paladin with a sword slung over her back and a good reason to use it most of the time. In this holy church of Paladine with oak-smelling pews and beautifully-lit stained glass windows, it was just her and Deacon Simms, the latter of which held the clipboard with all of the information Gail needed.

Simms flipped through the pages and read out loud, “The subject’s name is Mattie Dent. She’s a 25-year-old space mercenary with a rap sheet that includes murder, aggravated mayhem, drug trafficking, and manslaughter. She was taken to the basement of our church because she overdosed on combat drugs and has become violent with our fellow priests.”

The dark-skinned, black afro-haired deacon flipped back to the front page and shook his head no before saying, “I have to be honest with you, Gail. This woman seems like a lost cause. The basement is supposed to be a place where drug addicts can get clean. Miss Dent is so far gone that she doesn’t know what she wants anymore, except to beat up more of our priests.”

“Is she safely secured?” asked Gail.

“Indeed she is. She’s strapped to one of the beds right now with everything that’s capable of holding somebody down. We’ve got chains, leather belts, handcuffs, nylon wrappings, the works. She’s going to have to be bound down until all of the drugs are out of her system. Even then, she could still be dangerous given her criminal history.”

Gail placed a comforting hand on Simms’ shoulder and said, “You should know me better than that by now. This is my church and as long as it is, I will not give up on anyone who comes here. This Mattie Dent may be somewhat of a project for me, but I’ve had tough clients come here before with worse problems.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Deacon Simms.

The paladin hung her head in contemplation for a moment and said, “Trust me on this one, Simms. I don’t give up and I don’t lose. She’ll come around eventually. If she’s a deadly warrior like you say she is, then there might be a possibility of her joining our ranks as a paladin.”

“I hope up and down to God above that you’re right about this one, Gail. If not, we’ve got a lot of problems on our hands.”

The two church officials crossed themselves before Gail proceeded to make her way to the basement. She was walking much slower than usual as if she allowed the gory details of Mattie Dent’s file get in her head. Then again, the other thing currently occupying space in her head was the mantra of not giving up and never losing. Cautious though she may be, Gail was deemed ready for whatever was waiting downstairs.

The entry to the basement was hidden behind a bookcase full of old religious texts. Descending those stony stairs gave most people chills up and down their spines, darkness aside. Climbing into the unknown wasn’t nearly as scary as passing through the thick wooden door. Calling the basement a dungeon wasn’t appropriate given the church’s good intentions, but that didn’t make things any less frightening.

In a dimly lit room full of empty beds, crucifixes, refrigerators, and bookshelves, the one bed that stood out the most was the one containing the zombie-like Mattie Dent, who was covered in every wrapping known to man as Deacon Simms pointed out. The thick-skulled, ratty-haired warrior stared into the ceiling with neon green eyes and a series of low growling hums to herself. She truly did look like she was brought back from the dead.

Gail Reinhold tiptoed over to the drugged out mercenary and spoke to her in a gentle whisper. “Good morning, Miss Dent. I’m Gail and I’ll be your counselor for the day.”

Even a hardened warrior like Gail was jumpy when Mattie let out a monstrous roar accompanied by wolf-like chomps from her powerful jaw. The groans were getting more intense with the holy fighter’s presence before Mattie yelled, “Get these fucking straps off of me, you disgusting street whore! I don’t belong here! I have a paycheck to collect and asses to beat! You can either unhook me from this goddamn bed or I’ll break free myself and snap your ass in half!”

The whirlwind of growling curse words caused Gail’s heart to race and her head to lighten. She had seen a lot of crazy things in her day, but this was the first time she met someone with such an overwhelming amount of aggression. Gail was a fighter by nature, so that was saying something.


And because she was a fighter, she had no choice but to steel her spine and stare Mattie down with deadly eyes herself. “Listen, Miss Dent. I want to help you in whatever way I can. But if you continue to sweat at me and make threats, I’ll have to keep you in your binds indefinitely. You caught me off guard for a little while, but if you think I’m going to run away from someone like you, you’re dead wrong. Now tell me, Mattie, how many combat drugs did you take at once?”

The drug zombie chomped and roared once more as she struggled with her bindings. Her answer in no uncertain terms was, “I took a whole shit-load of drugs! I love drugs! I love sex! And I love rock and roll! Not necessarily in that order!”

“Shut up!” snapped Gail, which seemed to hold Mattie’s silent attention for a while. “The more you fight the system, the harder the system is going to fight back. I don’t care who you are or what kind of life you lead. Physical combat will only take you so far. But if you think you’re going to battle with the world and you’re going to win, then you’ve got some serious waking up to do, little girl. You’re in my care now, sister. I don’t take excuses and I don’t give handouts. If you fail this drug program, I will not hesitate to turn you over to the authorities. Do you understand me?”

“Shove it up your ass, bitch!” growled Mattie as she thrashed and slashed some more. Gail folded her arms and watched this pathetic attempt at freedom unfold before her. The paladin could just stand there and stare daggers all day long while the mercenary roared and thrashed about. And then the miracle of all miracles happened: Mattie relaxed into her bed and started crying her eyes out, her tears goopy and thick.

“It’s okay to cry, Mattie,” said Gail, who still maintained a stoic presence. “You’re not the first one to do it and you won’t be the last. Given everything you’ve been through in your life, I’d be worried about you if you weren’t crying. But know this: your tears are not a Get Out of Jail Free card. While I am not without sympathy, I am without weakness. I don’t give up on my clients now matter how erratic they become. If you want to get out of this mess, then I expect you to show the same courage. Agreed?”

After a few more sobs, Mattie said, “You church people are all the same. You think you can change the world just by preaching lines from a stupid book. Your god may be real to you, but for me, the only thing that’s real is the paycheck I get from stomping heads in the ground.”

“Well,” said Gail. “That’s going to have to change if you want to…”

“You’re damn right I did those drugs!” shouted Mattie as she struggled some more. “I did those drugs because I want to win! I want to kick ass! I want to burn the world to the ground! But more importantly than that…I want to burn this whole goddamn church to the ground with it!”

The psychotic drug zombie gave one more trash and snapped her bindings like the bones of her many victims. She was free and started to sit up, while Gail backed up slowly in horror. The paladin drew her sword and activated a magical lightning current around the blade. She’d been put into situations where she had fight viciously, but never had Gail killed one of her patients before. She was determined not to start at that moment.

Mattie leapt from the bed only to be met with a stream of lightning shooting into her chest. With any luck, her heart rate would slow down and she’d fall asleep. The only effect Gail’s magic had, however, was slowing down the drug zombie’s walking speed. The holy warrior threw a more powerful stream of lightning. And another. And another.

Her bolts became progressively stronger, but it didn’t matter to Mattie, who backhanded Gail’s sword away and lunged for the paladin with huge monster hands. The paladin scrambled on the floor in an attempt to retrieve her sword, but she was kicked in the ass and sent flying over one of the beds.

Mattie was feeling so powerful in her green, muscular, drugged-out body that she beat her chest repeatedly with iron fists before letting out another terrifying growl at Gail. The paladin rolled over on her ass and crab-walked backwards out of fear for being eaten alive by this lunatic. With no sword, it appeared as though Gail was done for.

The mercenary leaped toward her prey like a tiger and was ready to devour her. Mattie then had a thick blanket thrown in her face and she was struggling to get it off her head. Gail’s newfound courage allowed her to stand up again and go around the beds throwing blankets and comforters over Mattie’s head. The angry mercenary was so enraged that her intensity built up as she tried to unwrap the blinding laundry from her screaming head.

Mattie then grabbed the sheets all at once and ripped them in half like a pro-wrestler with his shirt, growls and rage included. She looked around and saw that Gail was running toward her fallen blade once again. In this heated race for the steel weapon, Mattie had her monstrous hands held high and was ready to wrap them around her counselor’s throat. Just one squeeze and Gail would burst like a pimple.

But there was no squeeze, only a hard impalement through Mattie’s stomach from a lightning enchanted sword. Gail held onto the hilt of the blade and pumped more electricity through Mattie’s body, causing huge explosions of yellow puss and blue blood everywhere. The basement was beginning to look more dungeon-like with every burst. And then the drug zombie melted into a puddle of multi-colored bile and flooded the floors with her biological slop. She died in the most disgusting way possible.

Gail never had to kill one of her own patients before and knowing she did just that caused her eyes to bulge, her skin to sweat, her breathing to hasten, and her legs to weaken. She took a seat on one of the beds as tears poured from her eyes. She may have defeated her toughest opponent to date, but this was no victory for her.

The sounds of light footsteps came down the stairs and Deacon Simms sheepishly poked his head through the doorway. “Is everything alright down here?”

Through a sobbing voice, Gail answered, “No!”

“Why not?”

“I…I failed her, Simms. I thought I could change her. I’ve never given up hope on anyone before. She gave me no choice and I had to kill her. I can’t be a member of this church anymore, it’s impossible.”

Simms tiptoed his way around the flood of bodily fluids and digested combat drugs in order to sit next to Gail. He allowed her to rest her head in his lap while he stroked her long raven hair. “Some people don’t want to change, Gail. The only way you can ever help someone is if they want to help themselves. Mattie Dent clearly never wanted help. She wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.”

“But…I’ve never lost before, Simms. I’ve always stayed with the people who came here.”

Deacon Simms patted Gail Reinhold on the head and said, “Anybody can lose just one time, Gail. Nobody goes through life undefeated. Sometimes, you can’t reform people who don’t want to be reformed. Sometimes…you just have to kill them. God gave you that sword for a reason, Gail: because one of these days, you’re going to have to use it again. And again. And again.”

Harvest Moon

The orange and red harvest moon was the only thing bright about the medieval night in the city of Tristan. Everything else seemed dark, damp, and gloomy. The Red Warrior Funeral Home was no different. Yes, the bodies were preserved in neat, comfortable bedding within their casket homes. It was the living who suffered the brunt of the foul stenches, ripped curtains, and occasional mice crawling across the floor. Even the tarantulas weaving webs in the corners of this place weren’t immune to the pungent atmosphere as evidenced by their corpses being littered all over the stone floors and walls.

The only person who could take in all of this gloominess and come out of it feeling somewhat neutral was Kendra Callahan, assassin for hire. With dark robes and a hood surrounding her and only an oil lantern guiding her way, her combat boots clanked off the stone floors of the funeral home. If somebody was down here defiling the corpses, she would be the first one to notice and that person would get the shit kicked out of him or her.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she thought to herself as she made her rounds. Guarding this funeral home would have been a cakewalk and she could have had the rest of the evening to herself. How would she have filled that time? Reading? Sharpening her blades? Staying in shape? No. This evening wouldn’t afford her the luxury of a comfortable home, because someone was down here.

The sight squeak of a coffin lid put Kendra Callahan in defensive mode. She got in a fighting stance and drew her steel poison-tipped claws. This sudden racket wasn’t caused by a mere mouse or spider. The intruder was as careful as any stealth artist should be. Kendra took a few more steps and shone her lamp in the general vicinity of the noise.

As soon as the light danced in the right places, the quick and light sounds of footsteps could be heard skittering across the floor. Someone was definitely there and Kendra was determined to give this intruder a taste of her poison. She reached into her belt and chucked a shuriken in where she believed the burglar was standing.

The sounds of pierced flesh and dripping blood put a smile on Kendra’s face. She jogged over with her lamp to see just what had happened, but it wasn’t what she expected at all. A flare of green light illuminated the entire funeral home. The source of such brilliant magic was a witchdoctor dressed in a demon mask and velvet red wizard robes. He gently pulled the shuriken out of his stomach and his wound healed over as if nothing happened.

“What the hell are you doing down here, Ambrose?” said Kendra sternly. The man she was referring to was Ambrose Volta, a delightfully eccentric wizard who didn’t mind delving into his darker side every once and a while.

“Do forgive my abrupt entrance, Miss Callahan, and I shall forgive the shuriken in my stomach. You know why I’m here,” said Ambrose.

“Actually, I don’t have a single fucking clue, but I can take a wild guess and say that you’re down here to get it on with your new undead girlfriend,” said Kendra with a smart-assed smile.

“I would never do such a thing and you know that to be true, my dear,” said Ambrose. “What is true, however, is that these preserved corpses concern me. Their souls are forever trapped in these caskets, a prison for the afterlife of sorts. No more will they suffer. After I work my magic, these souls will find a new and more comfortable place to rest: the Harvest Moon. It’s what religious folks refer to as heaven up there. But the Harvest Moon welcomes everyone and gives them a second chance at peace and beauty, not just those who conform to a certain ideal.”

A confused look formed on Kendra’s face when she said, “And I’m supposed to believe all of this, why? It’s almost like you’re asking me to conform to something I don’t trust myself. Well, there’s a reason why I’m wearing these claws and there’s a reason I’m patrolling this funeral home. Intruders are to be killed on sight. Well, Ambrose, you’re an intruder, so I guess I’ll have to kill you now.”

Kendra started the battle by bolting toward Ambrose and throwing her clawed fists in every direction he planned on going. One scrape from these weapons and even a powerful mage like Ambrose would have keeled over from the poison. And yet, he dodged every slash and every roundhouse kick that followed with so much ease that Kendra hit the wooden caskets instead and knocked a few corpses over.

Ambrose wagged his finger at his nemesis and said, “Naughty, naughty!” He then stretched out his fingers and shot a ball of black sludge in Kendra’s face. The assassin rolled around on her back trying to scream and peel through the tar. The mice and tarantulas were attracted to the scent of this goop and congregated around her face to nibble and chew her snow white flesh.

“Now, where was I before you so rudely interrupted me?” said Ambrose Volta as he turned his attention to one of the corpses that got knocked over. He knelt beside what looked like a young man in his 20’s and shot two bolts of purple lightning in his face.

By this time, Kendra Callahan peeled off the sticky sludge and crushed most of the mice and spiders that were eating her face. The end result was a visage full of nasty-looking battle scars, the same visage that wore an angry expression as the clawed warrior charged at Ambrose again.

She threw rapid-fire punches and kicks at the shaman while he was in the middle of casting his spells. This time there was no easy defense. Ambrose took every slash and every bone-crunching kick and rolled over on his back bloody and beaten. This felt too much like a hollow victory for Kendra. No way it could be over that easy.

She was right. The orange soul of the young man Ambrose was working on floated out of its host body and clutched Kendra around the neck. The soul screamed in a fiery voice, “You idiot! Some of us are trying to get to the Harvest Moon! Meanwhile, all you’re worried about is some shallow payment of gold and silver!”

The soul released its grip and dropped Kendra to the ground, where she hacked and wheezed as she held her throat and tried to suck in oxygen. The soul was laid to rest once more. But it didn’t go back into its own body. The flaming spirit was orally sucked in by the now sitting up Ambrose Volta. The vile wizard stood up and dusted himself off as if he didn’t just get his ass brutally beaten.

As soon as Kendra recovered most of her oxygen and gingerly stood back up herself, she saw Ambrose standing before her with his hands on his hips shaking his head. She freaked out when she said, “No! No! That’s impossible! Why won’t you die, damn it?!” She bum rushed the wizard again, this time with even faster kicks and punches. Her strikes would have been enough to kill most people instantly, but Ambrose concocted a whirlwind cocoon around himself and felt nothing.

Once the assassin tired herself out and stood hunched over, she saw that her adversary took off his demon mask and revealed himself to be a smiling old man with stringy white hair. At least that was one side of his face. The other side held the half-visage of a rotten black skeleton with a glowing orange eye. Even though she was a hardened warrior with virtually no emotions, Kendra Callahan knew it was time to be scared and showed it by shivering violently.

“Miss Callahan,” said Ambrose Volta in a syrupy voice. “I think the two of us have had enough, wouldn’t you agree?” The wizard held out his fingertips and telepathically threw Kendra against the wall, which conveniently enough had deer antlers mounted against it. The tough bones pierced through the clawed fighter and she bled out and died instantly, never once letting out a scream because her powerful lungs were punctured like balloons. The battle was over and all that was left for Kendra’s vision was a field of darkness.

Hours had passed in this dark plain. Not a single noise. Not a single sensation. And then out of nowhere, she heard gentle voices telling her to wake up from her dream. Kendra slowly opened her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the orange morning sky. She slowly stood up and found herself in a field of multi-colored autumn leaves. The voices that comforted her were those of the corpses in the funeral home, their bodies healed and their faces gently smiling.

“Where am I?” asked a weary Kendra Callahan.

A young girl grabbed her by the hand, which no longer had a claw, but a velvet red glove. The girl smiled brightly and gently said, “You’re on the Harvest Moon. Welcome to your new home!” And what a heavenly home it was.

Guardians of the Galaxy

TITLE: Guardians of the Galaxy

GENRE: Superhero Space Opera

RATING: PG-13 for hard language and sci-fi violence

GRADE: Pass

Ever since stealing a valuable treasure in the form of a power orb, space outlaw Peter Quill has had everyone after his ass from assassins to bounty hunters to gigantic space monsters. When a botched attempt on his life lands him and the rest of the main characters in a faraway prison, Peter Quill forms an uneasy alliance with his assassins and other quirky characters in order to break out and give the orb to safer hands.

Among Peter’s “friends” include a muscle-bound warrior named Drax, a slick assassin named Gamora, a raccoon bounty hunter named Rocket, and Rocket’s dryad partner in crime Groot. With these five combustible elements ready to snap each other’s necks at a moment’s notice, the main villain Ronan the Accuser should have no problem picking at the bones. Then again, he’s already a nearly indestructible ass-kicker, so that doubles the difficulty.

As to be expected with a superhero movie, there is a lot of combat. What amazes me about Guardians of the Galaxy is the variety in said combat scenes. Each of the five main characters bring something different to the table. Peter Quill can shoot a laser gun at his smaller opponents and outthink his bigger ones. Seeing as how Drax the Destroyer is played by WWE superstar Batista, it’s obvious he can rip the limbs off of even the biggest enemies like they were flies. Groot is the same way seeing as how he’s a big ass tree with muscular limbs and regenerative powers. Gamora is a quintessential martial artist with the way she spin kicks, spin elbows, and slashes everything in sight. And Rocket? Well, he’s just a little smartass who can easily frustrate his opponents into making a mistake. Five different styles against opponents of all shapes, sizes, and species. If they can get along, Ronan should be a piece of cake. That’s a huge if, by the way.

The creativity and vividness of this universe is also something that deserves my respect. The variety of races, weaponry, worlds, machinery, and ways to outsmart even the slickest opponents constitute a high level of creativity to me. The only similarities in this movie can be found in the yellow prison uniforms and prison guard machines. That’s about it. Every character has individuality and everything has a reason to be noticed. Whether you’re shooting lightning, glowing with a strangely-colored aura, or dripping on the floor with your disgusting goop, finding your niche as a Guardians of the Galaxy character isn’t hard to do. Our differences will bring us together, not drive us apart.

Which brings me to the third reason why this movie gets a passing grade: the friendship that develops between the five unlikely allies. It is a slowly forming relationship. They start out hating and distrusting each other and toward the end they get used to each other. While getting used to each other isn’t the same as friendship, one can easily lead to the other, especially if lives are on the line and are saved with efficiency. It seems like a cliché trope to put in a movie, but it’s one that has a lot of truth. It’s the reason why Asheville, North Carolina is the most liberal city of the normally red state: because different races and ideas get mixed in and the citizens are forced to get along.

Guardians of the Galaxy leaves no stone unturned when it comes to combat, storylines, visuals, and relationships. It’s what I like to call a complete movie. Even the beginning of the story, where a young Peter Quill is taken away from his cancer-stricken mother by aliens, has a solution to it near the end that nobody saw coming. If you’re in the mood for a great adventure and an even greater story, see this movie. I’ve said enough about it already, so no more spoilers. Buy a movie ticket, you cheap bastards.

Gryace

In the WWE, there’s no shortage of wrestlers with one name: Cesaro, Rusev, Ryback, Stardust, Kane, Fernando, Diego, aw, fuck it, I’ve made my point. While Gryace may not have a future in a real world company, he did have a future once upon a time at Play By Web. Remember Play By Web? The place I got kicked out of? Gryace is one of the characters I’ve salvaged from there.

Gryace was invented during the time where I was transitioning between the usernames Zeal and Undertaker. If you’d like plain English, my character was active while I was arguing with the entire PBW roster over my ability to enjoy porn despite my young age. Naturally, this flamboyant martial artist didn’t get much time to shine.

While I don’t remember the name of the game he was a part of, I can tell you that the game was basically arena combat where magic and creativity were highly encouraged. In fact, the admin of that group specifically said that if anybody had a problem with magic use, those people would be kicked out of the group altogether since closed-mindedness wasn’t allowed.

Gryace didn’t have any magic powers. But he did have martial arts skills that were so powerful and so flashy, even videogames like Street Fighter and Tekken wouldn’t be able to contain him. He didn’t just kick his opponents; he kicked them while doing a hundred summersaults, fifteen tuck-and-rolls, and twenty triple axles. This guy defied gravity with every punch and kick he threw. Maybe he didn’t need a plane ticket to get to his next venue. He could just kick somebody in the ribs in America and end up in Japan in less than a minute.

Because of his ability to tell gravity to go fuck itself and his hard-hitting style in general, Gryace didn’t need magical powers. In fact, if he tried to go Dragon Ball Z on his opponents and throw a Kamehameha wave, he could be an astronaut also in less than a minute. Is there life on other planets? If you give Gryace magic powers, he would be the first to tell you.

How could a young martial artist with a world of potential be so downplayed when it mattered most? Because at the time, I was 16 years old and my writing abilities weren’t nearly as developed as they are now. In order to win any matches in this game, you couldn’t just be a good writer; you had to be a literary badass. While I thought highly of myself and believed in my own abilities at the time, it didn’t mean anyone else agreed with my massive ego. Gryace was destroyed by his magic-wielding opponent in record time. Will we see Gryace again? If I ever have another story where kicking ass is important, you’re damn right you’re going to see him again.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Even through the darkest days, this fire burns always.”

-Killswitch Engage singing “This Fire Burns”-

Fantasy and Reality

I’m a peace-loving liberal who loves action movies and violent literature. Like the Scottish Koreans in the Starburst commercials, I’m a walking contradiction and I don’t make a wee bit of sense. How exactly is this possible? It’s because I know how to do something that I wish everybody would learn to do: distinguish fantasy from reality. In the fantasy world, violence is dazzling and fun to watch, as evidenced in movies like First Blood and TV shows like the WWE. Even the UFC has a level of fantasy in it, probably because it’s heavily regulated. In the real world, violence is a disgusting thing to watch. There’s a huge difference between watching First Blood and watching a war documentary on MSNBC. That’s why I wish everybody could distinguish fantasy from reality, because people play videogames like Halo and Gears of War and automatically assume that they too can become ass-kicking soldiers who go undefeated throughout their military careers. Bzzt! Wrong! If you join the military and somehow make it back to civilian life with your body intact, no matter what the outcome of the war you’re fighting, you will never be the same again. You might return home missing a few limbs. You might wake up in the middle of the night and not know where you are. You might burst into tears when you hear someone popping balloons because it sounds like gunfire. In the world of mixed-martial arts, the same thing is true. Just because you went undefeated in a game of Tekken Tag Tournament or Super Street Fighter II, doesn’t mean you’re going to excel in the UFC. The fighters who work for that company? They’re super athletes who spend anywhere from eight to twelve hours a day training in the gym and even then they get injured from time to time. If you have the body of a god and that god happens to be Buddha, stay away from the cage (unless of course your name is Roy Nelson, in which case, you’ll do just fine). Do you know why they call it a fantasy? Because it exists in the mind and nowhere else except for in artistic expression. If The Hobbit was a documentary instead of an action-adventure movie, we would be seriously fucked as human beings. Or elves. Or dwarves. Or even fire-breathing dragons and walking rock people. Just to be on the safe side, whenever I self-publish one of my books, I put a disclaimer at the beginning that reminds my readers never to copy anything they read. They will die a miserable, slow death if they do. I don’t just do it to get a laugh out of people. I do it for their own good. That and I don’t want to get sued. Are you paying attention, Stephanie Meyer? Maybe you should tell your own audience to stop biting each other’s necks. I’ve bitten people when I got into fights at school. It’s not fun. So please, Twilight fans, stop biting each other’s necks! Got that? Good! I don’t think there’s anything more that needs to be said, except…

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Pro-wrestling is real. People are fake.”

-Mr. Anderson-

Fight Scenes

Seeing as how I’m a fan of action movies and literary thrillers, it’s always been my belief that fight scenes should be just as fast-paced and action-packed as a Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee movie. That’s why WWE is so dazzling to watch, because the fighting is reminiscent of a martial arts movie. UFC matches aren’t always like that and some of them can be pretty boring. Isn’t that right, Clay Guida and Gray Maynard? If all fight scenes should be dazzling, then how would that translate into literature? When reading Kick-Ass and Kick-Ass 2, the fight scenes in those graphic novels were extremely bloody and a lot of bones were snapped in two. That’s one way to make a fight exciting: turning the characters into Gorn Stars Dancing. Another way to make them thrill rides is by having the characters throw a lot of shots at each other and have them dodged or blocked, just like a martial arts movie as I’ve said before. But this is only for fight scenes in books that are billed as action stories. If you take a look at the fight scenes in “For the Win” by Cory Doctorow, you’ll find that they’re extremely short and are ended usually by one or two moves. Not the most exciting way to stage a fight, but it is appropriate for the genre of that book. And quite frankly, that’s alright with me. If I’m reading something from “The Cat Who…” series, it would greatly surprise me if Jim Qwilleran disposed of the prime suspect by throwing ninja stars at him and slashing his throat with a handsaw. By the same token, if a fight in “The Hunger Games” was ended by simply punching someone in the face and knocking them into unconsciousness, it wouldn’t be true to the genre. This isn’t so much a lesson in how to make a fight scene exciting. It’s about staying true to the genre in which you’re working with. I know a lot of authors out there hate being categorized into a particular genre. Some authors prefer their books to be called “dark fantasy” instead of “horror” while others choose “dystopian fiction” instead of “sci-fi”. Well, guess what! If you don’t have a genre that defines your book, chances are your fight scenes are going to be ridiculous as hell and unreadable. Can you imagine Offred from “The Handmaid’s Tale” charging through a crowd of people on a horse while wielding a jousting lance? It wouldn’t make any fucking sense! Need more examples? Yeah, I thought not. Goodbye, pachos and pachas!

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ALPHONSE: I want him to beg for mercy.
VICTOR: I don’t think he’s going to beg for mercy.
ALPHONSE: He wouldn’t get it anyways.

-Dead Man Down-