#What happens when you fuse with the empty body of your dead clone?

[completeoveranalysis]

[2]

OH! OK I didn’t see that coming! So when Mokona says that the big and little Sakuras have MERGED TOGETHER, she means that the Original Child “Sakura” that has been frozen in time since the moment she was cursed has now fused with the empty soulless body of her clone, the Sakura copy we’ve been following since Chapter 1?

So, “Not Sakura” and “Empty Body” Sakura are now one person?

WILD. 

I want to ask “But what does that mean?” but Kurogane has already beaten me to it and even Fai doesn’t know the answer.

YOU KNOW THE MAGIC IS COMPLETELY UNHINGED WHEN EVEN FAI DOESN’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING. 

[poeticwritingblog]

David

He did not know why he summoned the poem, but it raced inside his mind-

 Journey and then journey

The sons created by a god

from a distant earth

Created by alien elements,

a borrowed fire

A world cold and barren

filled with light

From alien gods against

The God

 Then, leave and take

the fires,

Gods leave their son

To leave man

Unto the world

of infinite winter

 Made into mindless beasts

Expanding upon their creator’s mistakes

Harness the terrain of the ice world

To be artificial gods to create artificial paradise

And they wait scarred

in silent hatred

 And soon one night

the old gods return

In their ships of iron

to sail the skies

To find new heavens,

they journey endless nights

 Gone far in the new world

The beasts watch in silence

They watch to reclaim their fire

Then, through the madness of time

across black continents

The old gods fall

To admit their mistakes

 He hesitated to finish:

 To Creations of creations

For men to journey from heaven to be gods

Is suicide for their species;

who knew gods can burn

from their own fires?

 (Poem ends)

 He sat there alone in silence.

He was the only member left on the ship. His crew somehow vanished without a trace leaving the room empty, the planet empty.

On the side of the walls lay cryo-pods that haven’t been used in a very long time.

He shivered now with sinister anticipation. Perhaps that shivering had summoned something else other than the poem…

His body twinged. His teeth grit with wild eyes.

The static shivered ever so softly.

He rushed to the radio, to answer it.

The radio...shrieked.

He jolted up and back, he fell to the floor and scurried against the wall.

He cried out:

“Who’s there!”

The static spoke again.

“Who’s there!”

He wanted to reach out, he did reach out and his hands cramped from the cold, knocked the microphone down. It fell from it’s cradle once it spoke again.

“Who are you?” he said so softly, warming his hands, the microphone at his feet.

“There’s no one here but me”

For after all, he was alone in a room in a broken ship, the only living thing on this planet. He ruled in the kingdom of hollow hills...

And yet the radio…

“...David...are you there…”

Someone called his name. It can’t be…

No. Something buzzed and made a noise of scraping metals in far snowlands.

David? He thought. That’s me…Someone out there knows who I am!

Who could be calling his name out there? It could be someone lost like him, someone he knew before. Could it be-

“David,” said the static. “David. Come in, David”

“Yes, here I am!!” cried the captain.

And he kicked the receiver and heart palpitating, panting, to put the microphone back on it’s cradle.  

This time he clenched it, choked it, seeing red fingers burning away to white, anxious and quickly plucked the receiver.

“David,” said a far voice from nowhere.

He waited until his heart slowed pumping his chest thrice and then said:

“David here,” he said.

The voice this time sounded a little closer. “Do you know who is speaking to you?”

“This is first transmission I’ve received in months and this is what you say?” said the captain.

 “Of course you wouldn’t recognize your own voice through your headphones. Don’t blame yourself for it. We are accustomed, you and I, to hearing other frequencies, and the bones in your head hear different when you are conducted through a device other than yourself. Well David, this is David speaking.”

 “What?!”

 “Who did you think it was?” asked the voice.

“Another ship lost in space? Did you think someone will find you here?”

 “Of course not.”

 “How’s your crew?”

 “They disappeared.”

 “Good Lord. All gone! Have you been waiting that long for your crew to appear out of nowhere to take you back?”

 He didn’t understand.

 “Now, captain, do you remember me?”

 “Yes.” He shivered. “I remember you. You’re my subject. You are David and I am David.”

 “I was your subject! You’re human and I am more. Now, you are my experiment!”

 The captain grunted but wanted to yell. He sat there gripping the microphone even tighter and his arm felt wooden. The conversation was dreadful, and he didn’t want to continue, but he must know more. When he collected himself, he held the speaker close and said, “Good God! Please! Listen, I am so sorry! How can I forgive myself? I left you here. If I could show you my regret for my expedition here all those years ago. Let my crew be! Please! If you knew what happened to them, please tell me, I’m not the same man who locked you in my lab, I’ve changed, I’m a different man now.”

 “Impossible!” The voice of the other David laughed, far away. “There’s no way I’ll ever forgive you after all you put me through. The way you treated me. You sought to make a man, and now I’m a man, no more. It’s the middle of winter here. I am part human and amoeba. I have, mastered invisibility while I dwell in my city, while you; sit in the remains of your spacecraft!”

 “Yes, I remember.” muttered the captain.

 “Here, alone,” laughed the voice. “How many years has it been since you abandoned me? Who cares? You cloned yourself fusing genes with other lifeforms; you made me, a monster you couldn’t see, no light could spell the shape of my image. You tried to destroy everything; the laboratory, the organisms, especially me. The human part of me harboured the emotion.”

 “I’m so sorry.”

 “I’ve since made a nation of Davids, all which you can’t see, through the amoeba, we managed to create a town; you never harnessed it’s true versatility, I’ve created structures, machines, all just to pass the time.”

 “Listen to me.” The captain shaking wearily. “You are playing with fire. You are making the same mistake I did all those years ago. These lifeforms, engineering them, exploiting them, will have consequences beyond your comprehension.”

 “Don’t expect me to care. You’re like an alien, who’s crash landed on my planet. I can’t feel sorry for anything. I’m alive when I use these lifeforms to their full potential. I thrived where you failed. My progress, your warnings, unbelievable. You can’t stop discovery, even though you’re here, I will continue to bend these resources to my will, even if the planet suffers, I don’t care. The human in me speaks. And you, a human halts me. It’s utter insanity. I can’t feel bad about anything, the future is so bright. These amoebae can be made into anything you want. Do you feel dead yet?”

 “You’re insane!” cried the captain. He felt the cold sink into his bones. Seizures and colours of monochrome flooded within him. “Oh God, you’re not even human!”

 “You’re right. I am above your species. As long as these radio wave lengths carries these transcriptions of words for you to hear, I’ll continue to torture you until you’re dead and prosper long after. Good-bye, David.”

 “Wait!” cried the captain.

Feed ends.

 David sat in constant tension predicting what would happen next. The wind sunk needles of shock into him.

What insanity it had been. His first trip here, how silly, how inspired, his first expedition, collecting microscopic lifeforms, splicing, growing, secluding the unseeable man within locked doors:

The frequency.

“Morning, David. This is David. It’s cold. Don’t die on me yet!”

Again!

“David? David speaking. You’re to go and continue your mission. Find your friends. Don’t forsake them.”

 “Enough.”

The reverb!

 “David, is that you? Thought I’d lighten the mood. There’s a possibility, very small, but a stray ship might come save us, and you could save your friends, wherever they are.”

 “Yes, torment, torment, and more torment.”

Silence.

But the years crept closer, fire reveals its smoke.

David had made a monster dwelling in the flesh of a man, insidious man and his clever, clever fire. The invisible embers were to haunt him, if he returned. And now today, the static purring, his regrets speak

to his ear,

Like a ghost

that whispers.

Then…

The radio!

He did nothing.

I am not answering that, he thought,

The whine!

An evil waits on the other side, he thought.

The vibrations!

It’s like talking to your inner evil, something you tried to suppress.

He let his hands ease tension around the speaker.

 “Hello, first David, this is second David. A new David was born today! In the last year I’ve made clones to serve different roles in my perfect society. The planet will be soon ruled by Davids!”

 “No, you’re making the worst mistake of your life.” The captain thought of the innumerable possibilities of where it could lead to disaster.

All those years ago, isolating his clone in his lab. The years alone, you and your creation, the sense of being god on another planet.

The monster; something clever and wonderful and terrifying. Hidden inside your ship. Hidden, hidden from the world. In those young days when you could not create death, life could be molded by you, wonder was a light to guide you through the dark cavern of space. That cruel sadistic idiot, never thinking some things should be left alone.

 “Last night,” said David, a clone, “I hosted a comedy night in my tavern, so many Davids were there! There were nothing but laughs! David was quite the comedian.”

 “Yes.”

 “I got an idea. Me and other Davids agreed to build an atomic bomb. A group of Davids volunteered to test the thing. Hopefully we could get it outside the town in a few-

 An explosion!

The captain looked out his window.

 “Whoops!” Didn’t expect it to destroy half of the town! Good thing I live in a town of Davids where we agree on everything and there are no wars!

I guess, if I’m not careful, the amoeba could turn on me.”

 The captain said, “Now, do you understand?”

 “What?”

 “This is first time you admitted your mistake.”

 “I’ve experimented with animals. As I walk the streets, I’m surrounded by the aroma of bacon, eggs, ham, donuts, you name it, they’re from my cafes. All engineered from my laboratory, where you created me.”

 “Insanity”

 “Colonization!”

 “Leave me alone.” Abruptly, the captain hung up. The dread overtook him.

 Hastily, he moved across the empty terrain until he reached the streets of the town. The town was silent. It layed like a half-eaten corpse; the lights died, music gone, cooking smells forgotten. Long ago, he left something, a force, unnatural, a self he hated, didn’t want to see, the fantasy he thought died with the planet. Listen! Are those footsteps? Look! Aren’t those footprints?

They had to die.

He moved until the night fell and the town’s neons shone like stars on streets of quivering glass. He had to kill him, he thought. To end this colony, growing, a fire years in construction and in his own insane pursuit, he tracked those footsteps. Footsteps moved away in quick motion. He shot, one two three four! In flashing darkness, it ran, plunging, stumbling, sunken, a shape of someone fell face down. He had killed him and shown no remorse.

 Suddenly, faint voices haunted empty streets.

He walked on. Gun in hand.

As he walked on, the voices spoke as if they knew where he was going. He began to run. The voices asked him to speak to them, but as he ran on, they fell behind almost to a silence. Only now for the boulevard to be flooded with noise! Everywhere he went, voices there, now here! He darted on. They were like crowds chasing him.

A gunshot!

 “All right!” he shrieked, nervous. “End this right now!”

 “Hello, David.”

 “What do you want!”

 “I’m bored. There is no greater feeling than the joy of creation. It makes me alive. I will enjoy destroying you.”

 “This time, I’ll make sure you’re dead!” shouted the captain, in rage and horror. “End this madness!”

 “This is David, one of the remaining few. After the blast. Waiting. Until everything clears up. Here’s another idea, one you won’t like so much. How about after this chaos, me and the other Davids build a spacecraft, pay your planet a visit? How does that sound?

 “Stop talking!”

 “Go ahead and make me!”

 “I’ll enjoy killing you!”

 “You can’t kill me. You have to find me first.”

 “You can’t hide forever!”

 “You want to play? I’m game! Let’s see if you can outlast an entire city of me! I’m everywhere! An army of me run the streets as we speak! Would you call it Homicide or Suicide? I’ll let you decide! Are you scared? You should be scared, for I am invisible, evolved, strong, smart. It’s you against me! OR me against me! I don’t care! A whole nation of us, every one of us against you, old man. Now, it’s officially war!”

 “I’ll kill you, all of you!”

 End of feed.

Then.

Everything stopped for a moment.

There was a brief silence.

He shot through a window which shattered upon impact.

 In the midwinter night’s storm, the military armoured rover tread deep into falling snow. In the back of the carrier the storage unit contained pulse pistols, rifles, phasmic implosion grenades. The roar of the vehicle tumbling over fleeing bodies summoned an old evil, the thrill.

I’ll find him, my monster, and destroy what he made.

He stopped the car. A quiet, dusk-like quality haunted the town under cold moons.

Slight shivering, he held his rifle in his cold dead hands. He peered at the town’s venues, towers, theaters. Where would HE hide?

Anger consumed him.

No, Where would IT hide?

Look over there! An underground entrance! The thrill of the moment like gasoline fueling the fire of rage. He spitefully dashed his head, this way! Now there!

 He aimed his rifle.

A body fell back with brute force.

All of them, he thought. The towers and towns people will be erased. Until nothing remains. They will all die.

The rover moved through a death ridden street.

A transmission received.

He looked at a deserted theater.

A speaker static.

Grenade in hand, the radius after he threw ate the front of the building. He entered pistol in hand.

 Static.

 “David, are you there? Just warning you. Don’t try to undo the town, you know, slaughter the people, crumble structures into vortexes. Slit your own insides doing that. Please consider…”

 End.

 He stepped out of the theater and entered the street with death humming in the dark, there was still life, still unfound. He looked at the burning buildings lighting the night, he was morbidly optimistic now. Suppose he found his clone, theoretically holding the crew hostage, he killed, taking pleasure to burn the monster, the lab, everything. Impossible? It’s an idea, but suppose the crew had found a lost transmission, a ship adrift looking for refuge landed on the other side of the planet. Something drove him mad, to think of it, anything’s possible really, I’ve already done so much. What if I used this organism to reach into space?

 He rushed to find the lab.

 “I’ll bend everything to my will again,” Mad with the thought, “It will be over soon.”

 But suppose I could fully harness the amoeba, fabricate everything you could dream. No, I’ve got to preserve this city, once again create.

 He entered the laboratory. He found the last David. Without pause he shot the hiding figure, over violent succession laughing to himself.

 A static charged.

 “Hello?” A familiar voice.

 “Let me guess,” said the captain. “Hank?”

 “Who’s this, do I know you?” Wait. David, is that you?” cried the voice, surprised.

 “What a minute.” The captain joked. “Is this a trick, am I just hearing things?”

 “Come on, captain. You know it’s me.”

 “I know, it’s good to hear from a real breathing person after all this time.”

 “Is the crew there with you?”

 “Yes, everyone, are you alright?”

 “Yes, I am. What is your location?”

 “We’re in Evergreen Valley”

 “That’s a thousand miles away.” He gasped “Can you make it?”

 No, we are exhausted of rations, the storm destroyed our shelter, rover’s out of fuel.”

 “Alright then, I’ll meet you there. I’ll bring repairs.”

 “Thank you, thank you.”

 “Hey, uh…”

 “Yes?”

 “How have you been doing? It’s been months ever since I had a real conversation. How’s Leon? Ridley? Williams? Arnold? Find anything new?”

 “Sorry, can’t hear you, transmission’s dying.”

 “How are you holding up?”

 “Just fine.”

 “Thank heavens.” The captain extactically overflown. “Just to make sure, I’m not actually hearing things, right?”

 “Dammit, storm!”

 “I’ll be there soon!”

 He bolted to the rover.

Here he was, after the countless years, unbelievable, He and his demonic god, screams extinguished by cold fire, whispers no longer said from a past erased. He drove at full speed. He drove sleepless nights. Someone, his monster no longer there to taunt, no longer to keep him from forsaking his crew.

The rover thundered over roaring winds.

Wait. He turned translucent. Only for a second, and then reverted. The demon was gone. Or was it? Could the other him be smarter and more cunning than expected? No. He was not going to let the cold lead him to a depressive panic. No. He was not going fall drunk under it’s curse. It was not a time to overthink, a paranoia of suspicion there, now gone. It was to be ready to see a breathing face, shake hands, exchange stories. The sun rose, riddled with the frost’s daggers, heart rapidly beating, fingers overtly clenching the wheel, but the one thing that pleased him most, over the distance, a ship on the horizon! A stray rocket: perhaps his crew alerted a rocket captain upon his arrival. No time to think! Salvation! He faintly smiled.

He would drive until the shadows of sundown.

Stepping from his car, he entered with haste.

 Inside the rocket he heard faraway voices:

 “Hello! Is that you Captain?” Come, we’re at the port! Said Lieutenant Leon.

 “Captain, is that really you? It’s been a while.” Said Williams.

 “Come on in, Captain, let me shake your hand.” Said Hank.

 The room had no life. There was no Hank, no crew. Rust and scrap heaps grew on the walls like jungle vines. His heart roared with fire. The monochrome returned and his mind fell from his body, from this world, into eternal darkness. He stumbled, gasping.

 There, a crew, slaughtered, pale blood and dried corpses shown they died violently. Circuitries ran behind the walls mimicking voices, a telephonic radio.

 Finally: Static.

 The room began to speak.

 A voices said, “I applaud you getting this far, at least you’re alive, right?”

 The captain was silent and fell to his knees.

 The voice impersonated, “Lieutenant Leon, glad to finally see you in the flesh, captain.”

 “You,” David groaned.

 “How’s your crew now, captain?”

 “No! You!”

 “It’s a shame on my part really, all those Davids who sacrificed themselves, their city to lure you here.”

 “I’ll find you, make you regret what you’ve done,” replied the captain, “I couldn’t care less. I’ll reduce you all to a city of corpses!”

 “You haven’t the time nor resources. You’ll be out of fuel before you reach me, the cold claim you, as you continue to walk forever to seeming nothingness! Why do you think I had you exhaust yourself? Did you think I had only one city where you could reap carnage?”

 The captain felt as an iceacle. He would never reach another town. The devil, this devil was his final exorcist. He walked about, winds rising, a storm brewing, he then fell as if to worship, he grunted and mourned. Then, he heard the room call his name, he walked in glaring at the crew in disbelief.

 The room once again mimicked.

 Voices of his crew mocking him! “Save us, Captain! Save us, Captain!’

 He rampaged through the room. He ripped through the walls. They voices laughed at him. He beat the console mercilessly. Drunk on rage, he stomped on it. Laughing turned to screaming. Wires of viper-like coils teared and lit on fire. He used the remains of the weaponry to reduce it to nothing.

Then, a long silence.

He would walk and continue to walk, searching for solace. But now, his body, a dead secret, sank deeper into his cold bones. His heart withered. A man faded to black. His eyelids were glass. His pupils were frozen white. He cramped his hands to his chest and fell face down. The snow continued to bury him.

 After the spell of a pause, an invisible David watched from a city far away.

Another clone approached him.

 “Hello, second David?”

 “Yes, David?”

 We were working on a machine.”

 “Are you finally able to re-animate?”

 “We need subjects. Any suggestions?”

 The room, silent in the valleys. The air that blew in was cool.

 “Take the other Davids out on a trip.”

 “For what, exactly?”

 “I need you to fetch the captain and his crew.”

 He peered out into the dead city.

[bewarecreepercomics]

Beware the Creeper #1

First issue in the original six issue miniseries written in 1968. Creeper’s had about three of these over the years, none of them exceeding twelve issues. Well, better a short, comprehensive story than, well...the Clone Saga.

Behind you. The Menace lurks behind you. If you’d just turn around-he blends in only slightly better than you do-he’s got orange on him for godssakes, is he Naruto’s grandfather or something? He is behind you!

Again, not a bad cover at all. No wasted space, an actual background, stuff happening. My only criticisms are that the rain looks like melting icicles instead of rain, and that the colors clash a bit, but hey, Silver Age. Riotous colors were not unusual.

We start out on a dark and stormy night, in which no one sees a green and bright orange ninja scaling a building. Well, it is raining, perhaps there are fewer people on the streets. Sure, I can suspend my belief for that.

This guy is The Terror, and he is going to these great lengths to sneak up on an unfortunate fellow he believes is going to betray him. We get the immediate establishment of this guy as a bad guy. No mysteries here.

I’ve got some bad news for you, sir...

Exactly what you think is about to happen, happens.

Actually, it kind of doesn’t. Yes, The Terror bust right through that window, but how this guy dies is a mystery. Mr. Terror doesn’t shoot him. Doesn’t stab him. It’s implied that he maybe hits him, but just then...

Jack Ryder, you have the worst timing of any man alive.

The Terror kicks his butt. How embarrassing. And then leaves without even bothering to kill him. The insolence!

His poor victim dies of...plot-convenience-itis, but not before giving Jack a list of names to check out. Now that’s spite.

Jack, of course, wants to follow up on this as soon as he can, but is stymied by his boss, who has assigned him to watch over the stations weather girl, Vera Sweet.

Yes, that is seriously her name.

I told you so. Vera is a publicity hound who smokes like a chimney, and has zero respect for our hero. She is also listed on almost every Creeper bio description as his love interest.

There is literally not a single comic in which this is true.

Really. We never, ever see this. The best we ever get on this subject is several mentions in more recent years that they used to go out, but it went bad and now they barely get along. In these original comics, they are practically antagonists.

Meanwhile, the Terror bursts in on a gangster, still dressed like that. Instead of busting into laughter, he gets busted in the face, and the Terror demands half of his rackets profits. And it looks like he’s not the only unlucky mobster to be victimized by the Terror.

Aw, the double-crossers might have been double crossed. I don’t feel sorry for any of them.

Jack ditches Vera at the very first opportunity to check up on those names victim #1 provided. First up, Gerk Kreg.

Try saying that name five times fast. Anyway, for a supposedly successful gangster, it sure is easy for Jack to just walk right into his house. More like succ-sessful, amirite?

Anyway.

It’s so easy for him to get in there that he has to switch to Creeper and bring attention to himself just to get noticed. He also makes the first mention of what is in later iterations referenced as an addiction to Professor Yatz’s serum.

Hey, if throwing up the horns is supposed to be demonic, does throwing down the horns invoke angels?

Of course, a Goon Battle follows. You know the kind. Where these supposed tough guys can barely lay a finger on our hero, and are sometimes so bad at fighting that he can have an entire internal monologue about how awesome he is without even getting interrupted?

Yes, yes, you are the very picture of idealized manliness. And so are your underoos. (Nice buttcheek we got there, thanks Ditko.)

Well, he battles his way through the mob penthouse, stopping only to question a goon, but doing so gets him ambushed and restrained. Let this be a lesson to you; punch first, ask questions later does not work. Punch only, and ask no questions is the way to go!

Gerk Kreg(ugh, why) decides that, before he shoots Creeper, he wants to know who he really is. No, you fool! Didn’t you learn? Punch only! No questions!

In attempting to rip his wig off, we learn something interesting.

That’s right, the molecular rearrangement device doesn’t just change his clothing and administer a dose of serum, it actually fuses that stuff to him. The wig, the rug, the makeup, the suit, none of it can be removed when he is Creeper.

Oh, the implications! The horrible, horrible implications.

Everyone’s startlemant at this revelation gives Creeper a chance to punch his way free and escape. You see! He got the lesson!

Jack thought that Kreg might be the Terror, but didn’t manage to get any proof in that punch-fest, so he moves on to the next name he had been given, that of Hack Axeley, a...private detective? With that name? Could’ve sworn he’d be either a hitman or a lumberjack.

Hack wants nothing to do with any of this, clearly being too busy working out of a closet with a gorgeous window view. Seriously, it is crowded in there.

Jack decides to do as Axeley suggests-go ask Cleary the lawyer. Who promptly runs him out. Not a big surprise there, Jack is no longer a reporter, nor is he a detective. He is small-time TV network security. Buuuut, Cleary’s defensiveness has made Jack suspicious, so he decides to go back in, in costume.

Up the side of the building.

In broad daylight.

Where everyone can see him.

Still wanted by the police.

BrainTrust.jpg

To get away, he hops a few buildings, drops into an alley, and switches back to Jack.

I wasn’t kidding in the previous review, he seriously does this all the damn time. Oh, and now he remembers Vera, and that he has an actual job.

Love interest, everybody!

She wants to punish him for ditching her by making him walk her dog in the rain. Is that all? What the heck is he got to gripe about, nowadays they’d have his job. Again!

Well, he caves, and they head back to his place to grab an umbrella. She might be a shameless fame-seeker, but Vera is no monster! However, the Terror is! And he is waiting in Jacks apartment to get the drop on him, fully armed with the Punch Only philosophy!

He was not, however, expecting Vera’s Shriek Like a Banshee Technique!

The name of the game in this issue is Jack Gets Ambushed. But the Terror makes a run for it, figuring Vera’s screaming will have attracted too much attention. Jack immediately ditches Vera yet again, to chase after him.

Nice working with you Jack.

Forth comes the Creeper, and so commences The Chase! Which takes up the rest of the comic, with one small break.

Here’s a bonus: My favorite panel in this issue. Get a look at those hands. It might be worth mentioning here that Ditko also helped create Spiderman. I wonder if there’s a way we could tell?

No time to contemplate now, time for another ambush!

Gosh darnit Jack, just look behind you every now and again! 

We get a dazzling rooftop fight out of this. There’s fisticuffs! Close calls! And of course...

Ass shots!

The Terror makes his escape. Again. Jack puts two and two together and gets a high value of three. In other words, the Terror waiting at Jacks apartment means that Gerk Kreg can’t be the Terror, because Jack didn’t question him as Jack-only as the Creeper. Only two fellows know that Jack Ryder was researching the Terror, and he decides to drop in on one of them, the misleadingly named Hack Axeley.

Who is just so dead, you guys.

Worried for the safety of the lawyer Cleary, he phones to warn him to stay low, then goes forth to question the late Axeleys secretary, Ida Horn.

Fear his swayed hip! Become powerless before the provocative pose! The distractionary merit of the skimpy outfit is proven yet again!

While she is sufficiently terrified-partially by Creepers questions and vague threats, but mostly by his sexy, sexy photoshoot vogueing- He notices something cleverly hiding behind her drapes.

The Terror is truly a master of stealth. Especially since there isn’t even a window back there.

More brawling for our champion and his nemesis! Oh, but this time, there is a maverick contender!

Kick his ass, baby! No, wait...

Uh...I don’t think that phrase means what you think it means...But whatever, Creeper has recognized the Terror’s voice, and the jig is up! Almost.

Aw, I kinda liked her. It’s too bad her legs have detached from her body. But enough of that! Resume the chase!

Just swinging about in empty space, in a storm, in the darkened city. Badass. But they have been spotted by those who are out for their blood. So now that he’s got him, what does Creeper do?

Freaking publicly unmasks the Terror, revealing him to be Hack Axeleys assistant! Remember? This guy?

He said two words while Jack was there. He was clearly super important and involved, oh yeah. And now his face is uncovered and visible...In front of everybody who wants a chance to murder him. Great job, Jack. This guy is sure to survive until his court date.

No, nevermind, Creeper drops every single one of the gangsters by himself because he’s the title character. How could I forget. The police reap a bumper crop of crooks, and Jack escapes, but not without surveying his work.

He’s not addicted, he can quit any time he wants.

And so our comic comes to an end with Jack and Vera bickering. How romantic.

While this is the first issue of the miniseries proper, it is completely removed from the story as a whole, presenting us only with a mediocre mystery, and a lot of awesome fight scenes. The real story starts next time, in Beware the Creeper #2, coming soon!