[Herr D]

ETS: Djinn And Tony, Part 4

He heard the latch go on. The door opened a crack. A boy not six years old peered out at him from atop a stool with outright suspicion. “You are a BAD man.”
“But I don’t WANT to be!” said the Shadow smoothly, “I want to help! Like now, for example. Don’t open the door for me, my boy, I MIGHT be LYING.” He waggled his eyebrows menacingly.
“But you told me you’re lying? How’s THAT supposed to WORK?!”
“No. But I want you to practice! To stay safe. If I REALLY wanted to get you, wouldn’t I ask you to come out for something? Lie and say I had something you like? Like a hot dog?”
“Like candy.”
“Like candy. What a bright boy you are! But I say—stay in there and don’t take ANYTHING from me. Just in case! Right?” The Shadow paused, imagining lovingly mixing six varieties of mustard.
The little boy scratched his head thoughtfully and picked his nose a bit. Then he nodded. “Okay.”
“How do I get a hero? I mean, get in touch with one.”

[Herr D]

ETS: Djinn And Tony, Part 3

Closed doors were a theme for the night. When the seventh one slammed in his face, he shrugged. He pulled his chin in and concentrated on making his voice sounding piteous. “Please?” he whined, “Tell me where I can meet a hero. I really need one. The regular police aren’t enough. They would DIE if they got involved. I just want the killing to STOP.” He unfurled his jet-black cloak and imagined as best he could that he was wearing a starch-white uniform, apron, and one of those friendly little hats.

[Herr D]

ETS: Djinn And Tony, Part 2

All four of the lackeys looked terrified. Even Troll, who had nothing to lose. It had to be done, though, reasoned the Shadow. And Wrecking Ball MIGHT survive the Leader’s response.
Wrecking Ball trembled—all six hundred pounds of him. He walked as gently as his bulk would allow into the Leader’s room. A few moments passed. There was a muffled ‘whump,’ and a sound like the beginning of a hail storm. The Leader’s door opened. The Leader stood there, tiny pieces of orange shell falling everywhere. The Shadow’s eyebrows went higher and lighter gray. Wrecking Ball was no more. The Leader looked like any ordinary schmuck, not a hero or a villain. Certainly not like he could destroy ANYTHING. He looked like he’d have trouble eating a whole FOOTLONG with relish. The Shadow paused, considering the pun as a way to calm himself. The Shadow didn’t like surprises like the Wrecking Ball dying, but they happened more and more with the Leader. The Leader pulled a pen and a pack of Post-It notes from a pocket. He scribbled for a moment. “You three,” the Leader said, “The Shadow will give you a list of what I want next. See if you can bring me what I need without screwing it up?” He wrote a short list, handed it to the Shadow, and closed his door.

[Herr D]

Yeah? I’m still having the same problem.

the enemy, that could BARELY talk, and then looked down at Basher. Basher had taken off most of his a

EXPERIMENT WORKED. MAYBE I FIGURED IT OUT.

[Herr D]

I’m having trouble cut-pasting text to the forums here. It’s another story, headed for superhero fiction [checks self for fever] But it keeps giving me this ‘403, forbidden dance, something-or-other’ error message. Won’t let me post. I’d like not to have to type it all again and know how to do this in the future–I like editing my work for mistakes BEFORE I post it.

[Herr D]

That lamebrain thought I wrote down EmCZ. That’s my name now. Never mind, it sounds rapper-cool enough and I get free cubic zirconiums in my fan mail. My strength and flight are one and the same, really. Forcefields. The muscles I get from focusing my body on what I want the fields to do. Figures though, that I get the ONE journalist can’t read a physics equation or listen to simple instructions. I WANTED them to call me ‘Curie.’ It’s all right . . .

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[Herr D]

Awwh! Okay, I guess it’s time to swap out the items. New deadline-5-15-18 2pm EST, hopefully to be judged by 8pm.

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[Herr D]

The press have been shut out. Witnesses won’t talk. Police won’t give a statement. Fifty-one bad shots by yours truly and ONE good picture of this nutjob leapin’ over a wall. By the TATTLE! Dumb rag got lucky. All anybody knows is that ‘Southpaw’ slices up people born in the year of the Rat and the year of the Ox that graduated from St. Paul High School. An Asian studies expert was hired. Alls they know is that it’s somebody with a grudge . . . who can get custom-forged metal claws, order high-quality ninja shoes off the net, and stitch together old silk pajamas and fake fur.

Nutjob’s victims have moved all over. Havin’ trouble trackin’ ’em down for protection.

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[Herr D]

Wow. Spring has sprung. No entries. EXTENSION! 4/23/18 2PM EST due tbj 8pm.

Same entries with a hint: the bldgs sideways with a small  x value are interesting . . .

[Herr D]

Now–rainbow hair is practically a stun weapon. I think she got me.

[Herr D]

Sometimes it seems like the whole world is a bad fit.

*Centaur

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[Herr D]

With any masking, pick your shaping object carefully. You might have to mask multiple copies to multiple interlocking shapes to achieve your desired goal.

[Herr D]

Peri is cool. Powerset? What have the Peris been up to for these millennia?

[Herr D]

Is ‘1’ a tarot card? Good pic.

[Herr D]

Scream powers? Welcome.

[Author]

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