Issue #1 - Awakened

A Story by VertigoHolmes

Second Rough Draft of a comic/graphic novel I'm working on as part of a 52 week project.

[Info dump: This is a release of the unpolished first issue of a comic idea I am currently writing as part of a 52-Week project. This is just the narrative text, with no illustrations. Check comments below for more info.]

**Issue #1 - Awakened**

A twenty-something male is sitting at a desk, typing.
His words become the narrative.

‘I’ve never been much for any particular line of “work”.
Putting all of myself into something... it binds me. And I am not one to be bound.

My change happened when I was in sixth grade. Almost got myself run over by a drunk driver.
Should have died... but the car, well it passed right through me.

Intangibility.
That’s what the specialists called it.
The ability to pass through physical matter.

See car. Close eyes. Black out.
Still standing.
He didn’t even lay on the brakes until a good 20 feet after we passed through each other.

I stood there, arms huddled close. Trying to count all my limbs without moving.
My friends stood there, motionless as well.
Hell, they were half expecting me to be splattered into a fine red mist.
But I wasn't.
I was whole.
I was alive.

Fast forward eighteen years later.
I have no job. No foreseeable career path.
My art is considered a joke, and so is my bank account.

I get by financially, by using my awakened ability to commit petty theft and perpetrate victimless crimes.
I know what you’re saying, “WTF Benny? Awakened and using your power for petty crimes. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

I am.
There’s no excuse.

I do give back to the community though.
Like that makes it all better or something.
The other day, this guy dropped his keys through a sewer grate.
I made a ‘pain-in-the-a*s’ situation a ‘walk-in-the-park’ situation.
I felt that made up for the $20 I took from the other side of the register earlier that morning.

But that’s neither here nor there.
'Sorry Mr. Morgan'.

I get by emotionally, by painting.
Epic portraits of famed heroes and villains.
Those awakened and using their powers for more than stealing an apple and the morning paper.

I am not brave.
I am not a fighter.

My love is of those of prose and song. Images and visages. Portraits of love lost and heroes slain. Where a monster defeated, is a victory gained.

I make things. And that is how I intended to live my life.
I didn’t ask to be awakened.
That’s just how things happened.

But I am writing to you because I have chosen a path.
At long last; the one of least resistance.
I want to become a hero.

My power, and the subsequent use of it for nefarious services, came into question back about a month ago.
A man by the name of Donovan approached me, and wished to render my abilities... available.
A large deposit of cash was scheduled to be dropped off at a small bank, fifteen miles outside of town.
I was to breach the walls of the safe and carry out two duffel bags.
In and out.

The training was rigorous. Donovan showed me ways to drastically increase my powers.
Up until then, I was barely able to pass my whole body through a wall. Let alone through six feet of reinforced steel and concrete; carrying fifty pounds of ‘easy livin’ in each hand. I had become stronger, more capable, than I ever had been before.

After I got the bags out and delivered, Donovan asked me to come work a couple more jobs, but I had had enough.
The stress.
The guilt.
This lead me to a deep consideration of where I was in life.

What was I doing?
What had I done?
Who was I?
When did petty theft turn into full blown bank heists?
Why am I here?
Why was I awakened?
Why?!
Why?

Then one night, I snapped.

I was neighbor to this couple;
Ron & Dorothy Humbert.

Dorothy was beautiful.
Gorgeous golden locks.
Porcelain dipped skin.
Dimples that could melt your heart.

Ron, was... not so beautiful.
He was ugly. And not in a shallow way.
In a violent way.

I heard the beatings.
I felt the screams.

I loathed Ron.
I wanted to stop him.
I wanted to do something good.
And when I heard the nightly routine winding up that night, I took action.

Needless to say, I let out some pent up aggression.
I almost choked Ron to death.
But I stopped as I heard the cocking of a revolver.

Dorothy, standing there, cute as can be, with a .38 pointed at my chest.

She told me to get out.
I had no business intervening like that.
It wasn’t my fight.

I looked straight through her.
Straight through.
And I saw what I needed to see.

She was right.
I had no business stepping in like that.
It wasn’t my fight.

I am not brave.
I am not a fighter.

But I didn’t care.
Some people don’t know what’s best for them.
Those are the ones I choose to fight for.
Those who are too scared to fight for themselves.
Those afraid to break the bondage that is ‘status quo’.
I choose to... to be what’s best for them.

So, I’m not really sure if this is how it works, but I swear, with your help, I am going to do better.

Sincerely, Benjamin “Benny” Mulicheck
AKA Phantom’

**Meanwhile in Phoenix**

“There is a man in this office, who wants us to fail. He wants us to lose! I don’t know who the man is, but I do know, the numbers don’t lie! ....

Richard Emmitt
Banker
(wimp)

“ .... There is a saboteur in our midst, and we must root him out. Now, Mr. Morris wants us to get down do it. We only have another week to close this deal. Whose with me!?”

A low grumble erupts from the nine or so employees present, very unenthusiastically.

“Let’s get to it then team.”

As two of the employees leave the meeting, they murmur to each other.

“You’d think Stuart had actual gold in his a*s with how far Richard is up there.”

“I’m Team Leader and my nose needs a steady supply of s**t to stay moisturized.”, the other says mockingly. Both just loud enough for Richard to hear.

Richard heads to his boss, Stuart Morris’, office.

Stuart Morris
CFO
(d****e)

“Knock, knock.”

“You know Richard, usually people just knock instead of saying the phrase, ‘Knock knock’.”

“Right. Hey I was hoping I could get out of here a little early tonight. You see I have this date --”

“How is that Neiman-Linus merger coming along? We will have it finished by the end of the day today, right?”, totally ignoring Richard’s request.

“--huh? Um. Oh. Well sir you said to have it done by the end of next week. I don’t think the team will be ready--”

“Well Richard, how am I supposed to start my vacation early if we still have this merger hanging over our heads?”

“Excuse me?!” clears throat “I mean, What do you mean sir? I thought we had until next week??”, Richard’s anger grows.

“Now Richard--”

“Don’t you ‘Now Richard’ me!” his veins now bulging. “I’ve put up with your bullshit for eleven years! Well no more!”

Richard pulls out a gun, and shoots his boss in the head.

Then Richard snaps out of his delusional fantasy.

“Yes Richard?”, says Mr. Morris

“Um. Just wanted to tell you the Neiman-Linus merger is coming along great. I’m gonna take my lunch.”

“Keep it to fifteen minutes today. Can you make some phone calls while your out too. We need to get these investors in the loop. You know what? Grab me a gyro while your out. Lamb. But tell them hold back on the goddamn Tzaiki sauce. They drowned that s**t, and then that’s what it tastes like. S**t. You got that Richard? Be back in ten.”

“Yes sir.”

Richard, defeated and despondent, shuffles his way out of Mr. Morris’ office.

On his way downstairs he pulls out his cell phone and sees a missed call and voicemail from ‘Jessica Hertzfeld’.

“Hey Richard. Jess here. I can’t wait for our date tonight. I know we said 8, but maybe we could get together around 7? I have a plane to catch at 10. I’m heading out to Moscow. I know. I’m sorry. Work stuff. Ok! I gotta go. See you at 7? Bye.”

A smile softens Richard’s face. He goes to call her back.

It heads to voicemail.

“Hey Jess--Jessica, this is Richard...Emmitt, Richard Emmitt. I--”
Richard pauses.

“I will see you tonight at 7. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Richard hangs up, a shred of confidence shining through.

-------

With gyros in tow, Richard heads up to his office to talk to Mr. Morris.

“Here is your gyro, sir.”

“Did you make those phone calls?”

“Yes sir, they are in the loop.”

“What about the Neiman-Linus deal?”

“What about it?”

“Well I am going to need you to stay late tonight and finish it up. I’d like to start my vacation early.”

“Actually sir, I was going to ask if I could leave a little early tonight. I have a date.” Richard gleams with over-acted confidence.

“Richard Emmitt has a date? Wow. Who saw that coming?”

Richard becomes embarrassed.

“Well you’re going to have to reschedule your love life. These acquisition agreements need some revisions. Let’s get started with--”

“But sir?--”

“Richard this is not up for discussion. Face it, you know whatever it is you have going on tonight is a fluke. That “woman” isn’t really interested in you. You probably paid her (chuckles).”

Richard begins to have abdominal pains.

Stuart's voice deepens, to that of guttural insults.
“Did you tell her how you’re a nobody? A workaholic, with no personal life, or actual ambitions No real dreams. A lap dog?”

Richard falls to his knee in pain.

Stuarts voice returns to normal.
“Richard. Get up. Stop making a scene.”

Richard slowly stands and heads to the bathroom.

“Richard!”

There, he collapses in a stall, down on his hands and knees. His veins flash a vibrant blue. His eyes bulge and coat over black. Richard begins to vomit what looks like pure blood. As he becomes more violently ill, his veins pulse this abnormally blue color. After a few minutes, Richard passes out next to the toilet.

When he comes to, his skin has changed color to a soft blue, his veins a dark cobalt. His eyes now completely black. He sits up and smiles, blood still dripping from his lips.

In a much deeper, otherworldly, voice, Richard says, “Awaken Richard. Come forth.”

Telepathically, “Do my bidding. Bend thy knee.”

A faint remnant of Richard surfaces.

“What is happening? Who are you?!”

“I am Rykhan, the Vanquisher, your awakened soul. I have been dormant inside you, until now. Do my bidding. Vanquish those who stand in our way!”

“What should I do?”

Rykhan. “Vanquish them.”

Richard stands up, and exits the stall.

He appears in Stuart Morris’ doorway, his blue hue now strikingly vivid.

“Richard are you okay?”

“Richard are you okay?” Richard says mockingly. “You know you push me around, and talk down to me, and you know what? I’m not going to take it anymore. I am going on this date tonight. And you... can't stop me.”

Stuart stands up, but Richard sits him back down, telekinetically.

“You sit down, and listen to me now. All I ever wanted was to be treated with a modicum of respect. A little human decency, an trait which you obviously lack.” Richard begins to telekinetically squeeze Mr. Morris.

“The s**t I’ve had to put up with.”

A little tighter.

“The abuse.”

Rykhan gets closer, and squeezes even tighter.

“Now I can do what I want. And I think I will start by... breaking... every... bone... in your... body.”

As Stuart’s neck snaps, Richard, right in his face, is holding his hand up in a tight fist.

Richard straightens up, and brushes himself off.

“By the way, the name is Rykhan. The Vanquisher.” says Richard confidently.

Richard takes his phone out of his pocket.

Dials.
Ring.

“Hello? Jessica? I’m on my way.”

Richard hangs up and walks out.
Throwing the cellphone behind him.

**END**