LessThanThree Comics Presents » Perdition Case Files

Perdition Case Files: 7W0

Author — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 02:37:25 +0000

One of these days, I’m going to visit a city on my own terms, not on someone else’s.
The Big Easy is wasted on business trips; this is a city I could really have some fun with. But of course, there I was, working for Hire-A-Hero, and the New Orleans City Council. Some bugger down at one of the cemeteries noticed that someone had been robbing graves. Over the space of about a month, there were over a hundred corpses stolen from three different cemeteries. Nobody could figure out why, but the voodoo shaman that the City Council has on the payroll (not on the books, of course) said something wasn’t right. Wouldn’t give much more detail than that, so the City of New Orleans decided to hand it over to someone better equipped to deal with the things that go bump in the night.
And that of course, would be me. The leading source on everything mystical, magical or metaphysical. Or at least, the leading source that money can buy. Jack Roman probably knows more than me, but he’s signed up with the Boomers, and he’s nowhere near as strong as me. And then there’s the Keeper, but the less said about him the better, that’s a trade secret for us magic users. Oh, and that prat Merlin of course.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, the voodoo bloke. Voodoo’s a weird magic, it doesn’t work the way I’m used to magic working, so I wasn’t exactly in my comfort zone. This bloke on the other hand, knew exactly what he was talking about, and still had no idea what was going on. I was bloody out there on his hunch, but at least I was getting paid. And by “paid”, I of course mean that Hire-A-Hero was getting paid, and I was earning my own bloody freedom.
Fortunately, any magic leaves traces. A residue. One look at the gravesites, and I knew a big-time magic user had been there. He hadn’t actually been on the graves though, looked like he’d had someone else doing the hard work. Brilliant, he had lackeys.
Of course, the residue is only obvious enough when the magic hangs about in one place, if the magician is moving… It’s not so easy. The trail goes faint, paths intersect, and you lose it within a couple of yards. It was a good start though. I knew this wasn’t just a red herring.
So I asked the voodoo bloke what he knew about the local scene, he said there were a couple of big names around the city. I don’t remember half of them, but I interrogated all of them. Baron Voodoo was among them. I had a bad feeling about him, and what kind of arrogant bastard calls himself Baron Voodoo?
So I decided I’d track him down, the bastard led me on a merry chase around New Orleans, before disappearing somewhere in the French Quarter. He’d made me, and decided to have some fun with me. At least I knew I was on the right trail.
It took me a while to piece things together. I was in the city for a week before I read a newspaper. Apparently one of the logging companies outside the city had laid off a few hundred workers a few months ago. There was a big uproar, and they were fighting them in the courts. Strange thing was, the company had actually increased production. They sacked every man who worked for them, and they were still, somehow, putting out more timber than ever before.
It took me a while to twig on to the fact that there was a link. Like I said, voodoo’s not my strong point. But horror flicks are. I know one thing about voodoo: Zombies.
So I figured out these guys must have been using zombie labour. Baron Voodoo hooks them up cheap, they don’t have to worry about salaries, benefits or unions, and they get workers who can go all day and night, until they drop. And there are no shortage of replacements. There’s not exactly a premium on corpses in a big city like New Orleans.
Of course, this was all just speculation, I’d have to check out their operations. So, when night fell, I grabbed my sword and head to the nearest sawmill.
It didn’t take long for me to make up my mind. Dozens of shambling corpses populated the sawmill, working at their snail’s pace. It looked fairly obvious. Nothing left for me to do but start taking them apart.
The thing with zombies is: once they’re given an order, there’s no stopping them from carrying them out indefinitely. Until they can’t do it anymore. Cut one in half, they’ll keep reaching for their target. You’ve got to keep cutting until there’s nothing left.
Of course, that also means they’re not going to fight back until they get the order. I got all the way through the sawmill without any of them stopping me. Still, it was strange they’d been left unsupervised. I checked the next location on my list and headed out there. More of the same.
I reached a third location, another sawmill, and that’s where I found what I was looking for. Baron Voodoo.
Apparently he knew what I’d been doing, and had summoned every zombie under his command to this spot. He gloated for a while, you know what those evil types are like. Then he ordered them to attack.
There’s nothing like fighting an enemy you know you don’t have to hold back on. Against people, you have to make sure you don’t kill anyone. That’s what got me into this bloody mess in the first place. Against the undead, or demons, or any of the other hundreds of inhuman beasties I have to fight, there’s none of that nonsense. You unleash everything you’ve got.
My sword was everywhere, cleaving zombies from arse to elbow. Dozens of bloody zombies everywhere, I had to move faster than bloody GL to keep them away from me. It didn’t help that Baron bloody Voodoo was chanting and shaking powder everywhere. Felt like a curse. Looks like we were playing serious.
I didn’t have the time, or the concentration for a full spell. Of bloody course. I had to tap into my natural magic. The ground erupted below me, putting me on a pedestal, ten feet above the zombies, out of their reach. They started climbing, but it gave me time. Even with my head throbbing, the bloody ringing in my ears, I began the incantation. My counterspell was stronger, and my style was more intricate than the Baron’s, I reversed it on him. He collapsed, his knee started to rot out from underneath him. I followed it up with my own spell, a basic fireball, which engulfed the zombies.
I moved to trap Baron Voodoo, but he was already gone. One of these days, I was going to learn that trick.
Still, bloody good fight.

Perdition Case Files #001: Author’s Notes

Author — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 07:55:23 +0000

Can we tell I get all my British slang from old comedies and the internet? We don’t get a lot of good modern English TV around here, so I’m forced to watch the old classics. I did just (finally) finish reading Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, which has a fair few English characters (seeing as Gaiman is English, it’s understandable), and have now moved onto Delano’s Hellblazer, so hopefully I’ll improve before I write for Perdition again.

Perdition had a brief cameo in an early issue of Brat Pack, but even then I had a full character write-up for him. In the attempt to fill the gap left in the ranks of solo heroes, I decided I needed an anti-hero (because the Shadow isn’t enough…) I had every intention of fleshing him out eventually. This is the first step in that respect. I hope.

Also, the villains in this issue were chosen mostly for the opportunity to write one simple line. ‘[Vampires] Don’t. Fookin’. SPARKLE!’ … Yeah, I don’t like Twilight. Lets leave it at that. Ok, I’ll admit, I had a brief outline for the story in my head, and decided that I’d slip that in, and all of a sudden that idea seemed to be the one to go with.

Also, thanks for the comment Jenna, good to know someone’s still reading.

Later Days,

The Author
<3 Comics

Perdition Case Files: Code #0N3

Author — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 12:31:33 +0000

Just in case some rookie Downtown has to read this, I’ll let you know what’s going on. I’m Perdition. You might have heard of me. I’ve been into some dark stuff. Magical mostly. I’m kind of the knock-off version of the Antichrist. Half-demon, the son of Belial, one of the Lords of Hell. I was being groomed to take over the world, but I decided I wasn’t going to be used like that. The cult that was supposed to be ‘guiding’ me brought me here to New York from Merry Old England, and I cut loose. I killed my ‘bodyguards’, and went on the run. Spent the following few months fighting the cult, eventually the Boomers caught me.

I went to Alcatraz for a few months, until Hire-A-Hero saw the possibilities and worked out this deal. Instead of my back-to-back life sentences, I’m going to be working for these guys, fighting evil or whatever it is they do. Most of my salary goes to the government or something, to make up for my crimes. I don’t really know how it works; all I know is that I’m back in New York, instead of dropping the soap in front of Tarantula, which is definitely a good thing.

Part of the agreement says I have to produce a record of every job I work, for the police. Keeps track of what I’m doing I suppose. So here’s the latest.

It says here that I’m supposed to sum up what I knew going in, and why I chose this mission. The boss gave me about a dozen files to choose from. Unsolved cases, grisly murders, the usual crap he gives me. But this one stood out. In the past six months, over 200 people have gone missing in the city. People from all over, not just the usual hookers and druggies either. Almost all of them have turned up in dumpsters and the East River dead. Messy, deep wounds in their necks, looks like they bled out.

Now, a little girl has gone missing. Her rich parents called the cops, who put two-and-two together, figured this was linked, and the parents brought the case to Hire-A-Hero. They put it in my hands, and I took it.

Sounds like vampires, or at the very least, some sicko who I can take out all my pent up aggression on. Either way, it’s right up my alley.

So Hire-A-Hero gets me past the yellow tape, in some alleyway in the Bowery, a guy’s turned up in a dumpster, neck torn to shreds. I take one look at the body, the savage wounds, the look of pure terror on the guy’s face, and the severe lack of blood, and I know I’m right. It’s vampires.

So I look around the crime scene, and find about half a footprint next to the dumpster. There’s a little blood in the footprint, so I figure it was the attacker’s, or his minion. So I open my satchel and pull out some paper and a pencil, sketch a quick magic circle, and cast a location spell. Location spells are bloody useful, anything you want to find, it’s yours. So long as you’ve got something from the place you’re looking for, or the person you’re looking for, naturally. The spell I used showed me where the guy had been since he dumped the body, like it was in fast-forward. I knew where he was hiding out. I didn’t know who else was there, how many, or if the girl was there.

I’m just going to stop here for a second to clear one thing up. Vampires. They’re not like B-movie ham-actor ‘I Vant To Suck Your Blud!’ types. They’re not Anne Rice angst filled whingers. And for Pete’s sake, they Don’t. Fooking. SPARKLE!

Vampires are predators. They’re stronger than most humans. Almost as strong as me. They’re quicker too. Better senses. They’re better than humans in every possible way. They can’t go out in sunlight. They can’t be killed by anything short of decapitation. Driving something straight through their heart will immobilise them, but as soon as it’s taken out, they’ll be kicking again. And sunlight too. They’re not fond of fire either. They do have reflections. Garlic and holy water don’t do fook all.

So I followed the vampire’s trail to a block of flats up on Avenue B. Place is boarded up, looks like it hasn’t been lived in for months. But I knew that wasn’t true.

I thought about taking the stealthy route. Sneak in and get the drop on them. But I’m not that kind of bloke, am I?

I pulled my sword down off my back, and slice straight through the front door, and the planks of wood nailed across it. I walked into the entryway, and three big fooking vampires jumped me. I should have known better, but it was too late by then. I made short work of those fookers though. Kicked the first one’s head clear off its shoulders. The other two went down with one swing of my sword. I ran up the stairs, and into the first apartment, that was the last place I saw with my location spell.

Standing in what I assume would be the lounge room of the apartment, is about ten of the biggest meanest vampires I’ve ever seen. In the back corner, I see two more, both weedy little bastards. One of them must be the sire, the leader. The other, by the look of him, is a magician of some description. I fooking hate vampire mages.

The sire gives the order, and the bastards descend on me. There’s no way I can just fight my way out of this one. Lucky I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve. Magic works on two levels. There’s the spells regular magicians cast, with stones and circles and incantations. They take time, but they’re precise, focussed. Then there’re natural magics. Powerful, quick to summon, and full of raw energy. There aren’t many magicians in the world who can wield them. I’m one of them. I don’t have time to cast a real spell, so I reach into my demon half, summon the power from within. The building shakes. My dear old dad Belial is tied into the Earth element. Gives me a natural affinity for rocks and dirt and muck like that. So I pulled an earthquake out of my arse, and it throws the vampires off for a moment. Gives me time to execute a perfect triple-twist with a flourish. Or something like that. With my sword in my hand, that means about eight dead vampires on the ground. The last two thugs charge me, but they don’t stand a chance. That is, until the mage tosses a fireball into my face. The distraction is enough to give the thugs and edge, and they high-low me. I hit the deck hard, but I roll out. Sweep the legs out from under one, and use the momentum to pirouette back up to my feet. Slice the fooker’s head off and tackle the second, driving him through the wall. Was lucky enough to bust a wooden stud in the wall, and impale him straight through the heart. I turned back to the sire and the magician. The magician’s already got a shield of some description up. I just laughed at him and tore it down with raw magic. Sends him reeling. Doesn’t feel too good on my end either. Always takes a bit out of me. I slice his head clean off, leaving me face to face with the sire. I tell him to tell me where the girl is, and I’ll spare him. He tells me she’s stashed in the closet. I grin and skewer the bastard on my sword, leaving him pinned to the wall.

I open up the closet and find the girl sitting in there, huddled up. Something’s wrong, but I can’t place my finger on it. Then the bitch lunges at me and sends me tumbling. That’s when I realised they’d turned her. She was one of them. Before I can react, she crashes through the window, falling to the street below. I watch her escape into the darkness. I swear under my breath, as I return to the sire. I pull my sword out of him, and he comes to. Spouts some crap about coming back more powerful than ever. I laugh in his face, and knock his block off with one punch.

So that’s it. Mission failed. But I wiped out a den of vampires, which I call a win. I fooking hate vampires.