Continued from Part Nine

Commander Justice stood outside the Sword’s door. Would the Sword even care what he had to say? It didn’t matter. He had to get it said. He knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” the Sword answered from within the medieval English cottage.

Commander Justice walked in.

The Sword stood. “Commander, how are you doing? Curador said that stab wound was pretty bad.”

“I had to change into my spare costume, but thanks to Curador I’m not too bad. I’ve been more woozy after donating blood.”

“You give blood? That is so excellent. It’s a behavior I haven’t really worked into a comic book, but it’s something we should definitely encourage. Maybe with a—”

“Sword! That’s not why I came. I came to confess.”

“To what?”

“Resenting you. As a Christian, I’m not supposed to hate or envy people. I’ve got to admit I resent you, and I probably hate you for what you’ve been doing to my family.”

“I don’t understand. When I took over Justice Comics, I made our first priority re-paying the Justice Family five million in royalties from when the previous owner used your name without paying you.”

“It’s not about the money, Sword. You’ve done fine with the money.”

“Then what?”

“You act like you invented supers. You’re the big boss, and we’re all mere sidekicks. Never mind that some of us have been doing this for years, or that my family has been doing this for generations. I know you realized on September 11 that real evil exists in the world. Some of us didn’t need two buildings to blow up to tell us that.”

The Sword sat down in his chair. “I’ve never meant anything by it, Commander. It’s just, for a company to succeed, it needs a strong promoter at the head of it. A voice. I can be that voice.”

“Sorry that my family was never great at self-promotion.”

“For not trying, you sure made a big impression in the Big Apple.”

“It’s not about promotion or comic books. It’d just be nice to be treated like someone who has been doing this since I was twelve rather than someone who just yesterday got their superpowers from an accident.”

“The Captain first took you out when you were twelve? That means you’ve been doing this—”

“About as long as you’ve been alive.”

“Commander, I apologize if I’ve not consulted you enough. I’ll try to do better.”

Skyscraper, Small Packages, and Cap-tain Revolution burst in. Small Packages said, “Hey, Sword. Where’s Revelator?”

“He headed over to the science camp to do some soil analysis with Data Bank.”

“When did he leave?”

“About an hour ago.”

“We checked there. Data Bank hasn’t seen Revelator since this morning.”

The Sword stood up. “Let’s go find him.” He turned to Commander Justice. “Care to come along?”

“I’d be glad to.”

Continued…Next Monday

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Clark Kent plots to go undercover as a prison guard to catch the racketeers, but he still doesn’t know that the schedule for transporting the prisoner has been moved up an hour.

Original Air Date: August 27, 1941

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Continued from Part Three

Snyder cursed. “I can’t believe I miss-ed this. The whole thing shorted out.”

Amanda grabbed the device from Snyder’s hand and threw it across the luxury hotel room. “Thanks to your crap, we lost $200 million.”

“But we wouldn’t have gotten to even $6 million without it.”

Amanda shrieked, “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“I did suggest we stop at $3 million. That’s more then enough for anybody.”

She grabbed him by the shirt collar and tossed him off the bed onto the floor. “You think small, Snyder! A big house. A new luxury car. It all could have been ours if you hadn’t screwed it up.”

She grabbed the lamp off the end table and smacked it in her hands like a billy club.

“What are you doing? Amanda!”

 Snyder tried to force himself to his feet. Amanda moved closer with the lamp.

Move, Snyder, move.

“Hold still, Snyder. This won’t hurt—for long.”

Amanda hurled the lamp at Snyder’s skull. He threw himself out of the way.

The lamp shattered not two inches from his left ear.

He breathed heavily. Shards of broken ceramic lay all around him.

Amanda threw herself on top of him. She ripped off her scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and began to pull.

Snyder gasped for air.

Continued…Next Thursday

Subscribe to Laser & Sword by Email to get the next part and all the rest of our free offerings delivered to you. To find out what happens sooner, visit theLaser and Sword Online store and download Issue 1 for free or purchase the Annual Editioncontaining 11 action packed stories

As the police and the district attorney investigate the local where Clark Kent and Perry White are being held.

Original Air Date: August 22, 1941

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Continued from Part Six

Nearly upside down in his chair, Night Lord watched the video of Power-house’s bust at a ring of car thieves’ hideout. The thieves began to fire. Power-house hit the ground. Night Lord smiled. “You’re not bullet-proof, that’s for sure.”

Powerhouse released a smoke bomb.

“That’s a good trick, pal. We’ll have to find a way around it.”

 ###

Powerhouse entered Mrs. Kennedy’s room carrying a Bible he’d found in the lobby and sat across from her.

Mrs. Kennedy sat up in bed.

Powerhouse opened the Bible at random and read about a sacrifice to dedicate something called a tabernacle that the children of Israel built.

Several paragraphs in, Powerhouse frowned. “All these sacrifices are exactly the same. I didn’t know they had copy and paste back then.”

Mrs. Kennedy shook her head.

Powerhouse skipped ahead by a hunk of pages and began to read. “Adam, Seth, Enosh, Kenan, Mahalaleel, Jared, Enoch, Methuselah, Lamech.” He paused. “Is this the phone book of the Bible?”

After three more chapters like this, he yawned. “I don’t get it.”

Mrs. Kennedy grabbed the Bible from him. “You have to believe.” She clutched the Bible to her chest and went to sleep.

Continued…Next Tuesday

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Continued from Part Eight

A ghost walked through the door. Sariah gripped Jesse’s desk and took a sharp intake of breath. “Rick?”

“My dear,” Rick swept in and planted a most unwelcome kiss on her cheek. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

Not long enough. It’d been three years since she’d made her choice. Jesse, not Rick or the Sword—who turned out to be Jesse, but that was another story.

 What was Rick Westinghall doing back in her life? And being so forward? Her husband was supposed to be in a coma, not dead. Which he wasn’t. Whatever happened to that plane, the Sword would find a way back. He always did.

“Rick, what brings you here?”

And who gave him an appointment?

“I’m here officially as a courtesy call on behalf of my new employer.”

She glanced at her Blackbery’s appoint-ment calendar. “1:30-2:00 Awesome Com-ics. Courtesy Call.” Had she seen the name, she’d have cancelled. Handling competitors were Jesse’s forte, not her’s. “What’s your position with Awesome Comics?”

“Executive Vice-President. I run the place. Still manage a little drawing on the side. Who thought four years ago, when the hottest date we could afford was Wendy’s, that we’d command the two largest comic book empires in the world?”

I’d rather be at home taking care of my son, thanks. “Tell me, Rick. Did they train you to be a jerk at Awesome Comics, or did you have to take outside classes?”

“I’m not presenting myself well I take it?”

“The only reason I’m heading this com-pany is because my husband is in a coma. I can’t believe you would have the chutzpah to come here for social reasons.”

“Personally, I think you should pull the plug, grieve, and move on. It’s both selfish and unhealthy to hold on to him like this.”

She glared and pointed to the door.

He sent her a formerly-disarming smile and put up his hands in surrender. “But I can respect you not being ready to start dating a-gain—yet. If you need someone with you when you find the strength to do the right thing for Jesse and say goodbye, I’ll gladly be there for you.”

Why did I ever consider marrying this guy? “Not a chance, pal. Out.”

Rick chuckled. “Now, now. I meant as a friend, of course, and I do have business.”

“Fine.”

But be prepared to leave in a hurry.

“Times are tough, and I know this isn’t up your alley. I’ve been reading the product line, and it’s not been the same since Jesse left us. Your writers can’t function at a nor-mal comic book company, where you can’t talk to a hero and get their latest exploits down. At Awesome Comics we have the finest writers in the business.”

“What are you suggesting, Rick?”

“I’m suggesting that you sell us Sword Comics.”

Continued…Next Monday

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Kent cries for helping hoping Dr. Roebling hear him while the villains laugh at him.

Original Air Date: August 22, 1941

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Continued from Part Two

Jirel walked through the casino. In the vast sea of humanity, it could take hours to find Snyder.

“Jirel!”

Cutler turned. A seven foot tall police officer with golden hair approached. Wait, that wasn’t a policeman. He knew the Most High would call in the big guns, but not this big. To go any bigger than Michael, a saint would have to be called in.

Michael said, “Snyder is at Roulette Table G15.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“One more thing. Zorba’s there.”

“Thanks, I see her.”

Jirel walked across the casino to where Zorba sat smiling, with a glass of wine in her hand. “Jirel, you’re just in time. The lady has put everything on 00 and that will turn $6 million into $210 million. That’s called breaking the bank.” Zorba whistled. “And then they’ll get ma-married and he’ll end up in the same place as her previous husbands.”

The gamblers all around them were too busy blowing their rent money to pay any attention to them, thankfully. “The Lord re-buke you. It’s not going to happen.”

“What? Are you going to interfere in human free will?”

Jirel smiled. “I don’t have to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your plan is flawed. Snyder is an imperfect human being and this is the first such device he’s built. The device has a small fault that should short it out, about—now.”

Snyder let out a grunt. “Ow.”

The electronic ball hit 00, but bounced into an adjoining space. The attendant called, “Number One red!”

Zorba’s eyes filled with rage. “God cheated! He hid the flaw from Snyder so it would fail at this point.”

Jirel smiled. “Assuming God plays on your level is the first mistake Hell makes.”

Zorba roared and slipped off to her do-main to pout, unleashing sulfuric fumes be-yond the human range of scent.

Continued…Next Thursday

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Clark Kent and Perry White are picked up by the police. Or is it really the police?

Original Air Date: August 20, 1941

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Continued from Part Five

After a hand of cribbage with Lenny, Powerhouse counted the points he’d gotten and put it down.

Lenny said, “Muggins for two.”

Powerhouse arched an eyebrow. “What’s a muggins?”

“You didn’t count a fifteen in your hand, so I’m taking the two points.”

“You would steal from me?”

“That’s one of the rules.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“Look, do you want to play?”

Powerhouse grunted. Someone had to fill Reverend Jones’ shoes. Even if the rules were stupid.

Lenny rattled on about his life for an eternity, then asked, “So, you married?”

Could they go back to Lenny’s stamp collection? “I can’t say.”

“Got any kids?”

“Haven’t you ever read a comic? All hell would break out if I were to answer this.”

“Okay, um, Pepsi or Coke?”

“Look, any personal detail could give a clue to my identity. Night Lord would track you down and torture you. He’d say, ‘Pepsi or Coke?’ as he ripped out your fingernails.”

“Look at the time—I’m fifteen minutes late for my nap.”

Powerhouse left. Why did he have a sinking feeling things hadn’t gone well?

Continued…Next Tuesday

Subscribe to Laser & Sword by Email to get the next part and all the rest of our free offerings delivered to you. To find out what happens sooner, visit the Laser and Sword Online store and download  Issue 1 for free or purchase the Annual Editioncontaining 11 action packed stories