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Poem: Breadmaker
0Dominique Larntz * January 15, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Breadmaker
I don’t know the reason
but there were many youthful years
when I could not be consoled,
and now all I need
in order to feel peaceful
is the hint that yeast exists
for the bread of joy to rise
from the core of my heels
to the crust of my hair.
The only gluten I can find
is your daily offering of love
that I have been
so lucky to discover,
kneaded faithfully
throughout the later decades
of this life that would be
unwise, bereft, and unbaked
but for the skillful addition of you.
Poem: Calyx
0Dominique Larntz * January 14, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Calyx
I am walking uphill on my high
desert winter stroll,
hardly noticing it.
Just as this desert willow
has no idea whether I am
ugly or beautiful,
successful or abysmal,
vain or humble,
violent or kind,
female or male,
if I have a diversified portfolio
or if I have given away my last penny,
I can hardly grasp things about its life,
such as if trees have statuses.
Do they think the redwood
is more evolved than bamboo?
For that matter, is it possible
planted life perceives moving,
mammalian life as less evolved
since we decay back into soil
and eventually–
in an old tree’s time frame–
become plant food?
For now, though, I touch the trunk
of the desert willow on my path,
and we meet, both alive.
No matter what we perceive or call it,
we share in experiencing life and death,
and we complement one another in breath.
Poem: Does Nothing; Everything Is Done
0Dominique Larntz * January 13, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Does Nothing; Everything Is Done
Part One:
I thought I was too late,
and it was a blight on our home,
and I kept apologizing to everyone
but instead it was effortless.
Nature had pushed everything back
this year–from the Spring gusts
to the late blooming tomatoes
that gave us their last fruits
in early December.
I only cleared out a little of the garden
before the freeze and a month
of heavy snows pulled a crisp sheet
overtop the vines and trellises
outside our door.
So my clearing task waited.
Now the desert has returned
to its bright dryness
and when I went to shear the plants,
they did not need to be cut.
They simply fell apart in my hands
like solid dust, and I knew that this
was the perfect time
to clean up the garden.
Part Two:
I piled the branches into bags
and they reminded me of the
passageways in my brain,
and I could see how some of the
energy of my youth had been spent on
fruitless seeds of hatred, eager and petty and
destined to turn as gray and brittle as these annuals.
Planted in the imbalanced nutrient bath
of our warring culture, these resentments
were inconsolable in my youth,
which was always mysterious to me
because I was reaching for reconciliation
as truly as any annual will reach
to find balance somewhere in its soil.
But with the dormant season,
nature offers transformation
in the roots and stems of ourselves,
leaving the perennial parts strong and vibrant.
I find the things I can release
surprisingly woody and weak,
in my relationships and in my life,
and it is at this time,
now,
that I can quietly and easily pluck parts of
my character that have always vexed me–
alongside the annuals–
on a gorgeous wintery, solitary afternoon.
Poem: Mass Commercialization Disperses Back Into Family Gardening
0Dominique Larntz * January 12, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Mass Commercialization Disperses Back Into Family Gardening
My counter,
the smallest
of laboratories,
is the perfect example
of high entropy,
crowded again
with oats and cranberries;
vodka sauce and figs.
Or is it the smallest?
From two hundred years past,
tell me the science fiction writer
who would have imagined
the double-ovened joyous
holiday we have any day
while watching a big screen TV
in the great room and washing
tomatoes grown organically
from containers on our back porch
because the mass shipped
tomatoes have no taste.
I try organizing the cupboard
fairly well, watching for signs
of perfectionism
or hoarding in my psyche,
noting how they can
relate like two opposite points on a line
or two points that meet on a circle
when that line is shaped
to be curved beyond a bowl.
Naming myself on that continuum
likely fails to add flavor
to any dish produced in this lab.
Better to place my attention
on more physical details–the smell
of lemon as it cleans the disposal,
the richness of the blossoming
orchid on the shelf, the feel of the jar
of chipotle as I twist the cap open
to add it to our eggs in the morning.
Chaos like ours, like mine,
exists well beyond–and well within–
the projects and recipes and tools and tastes
at my fingertips.
Poem: Zygote Dreams
0Dominique Larntz * January 11, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Zygote Dreams
I.
My father is wholeness
and my mother is love
and all the damage
in the world can only kill me
it cannot unmake me.
II.
I sleep to repair
and remember who I am –
where I was conceived –
and to even out the tremors
of variety and experience
that for a brief instant
allowed me to construct
a story only as permanent
as weather.
III.
I awaken over and over
into the spirit of conception –
now, eternally –
that returns us
to comfort.
Poem: Meditation Today
0Dominique Larntz * January 10 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Meditation Today
Allowing is less
the big breath,
the effortful death
of expectation–and more
the inhales and the exhales
you watch without drama,
easily, like the place
at the top of the pole where
the nylon string attaches
in a tetherball game.
Poem: Neighborhood
0Dominique Larntz * January 9 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Neighborhood
There is so much I can’t do today
that I am reminded
to think small
and then to think even
smaller.
I remember being eight years old
in elementary school.
The teacher polled us
on what we wanted to be
when we grew up.
I said I wanted to be president.
That stands as one of my brightest
negative moments
in socialization
as a child.
While I would have
voted for me,
it was obvious
even the teacher
was shocked
at such a desire
and would not
have cast a ballot
my way.
While my campaign
ended there,
I still find myself
returning to
the intersection
of the avenue-of-where-I-think-I-should-go
and the boulevard-of-the-way-I-was-made
thinking I can re-route the-avenue-
of-where-I-think-I-should-go
to be anything other than
a traffic circle
bringing me again
to the same,
gentle, right turn.
An exuberant day
can make any future appear possible
and it’s easy to forget that to manifest
a career takes twenty-to-forty years.
Life also brings days like today–you
can call it depression, low energy, tired.
And I wonder how I can be
of service in my life
and in the world on such a day,
when I feel I am no good
for doing anything.
And it takes me a long time–until 3 PM–to
even be able to formulate that question.
Almost before the question is finished,
life has offered three lousy drivers
in oversized vehicles.
Each encounter necessitated
that I slow down
in order to avoid collisions.
I cry a little because I realize those drivers
will never see that I saved their lives.
They will probably never know
the mistakes they made.
I am humbled by my small destiny
on my neighborhood roads today,
and the invisibility of it.
I look into the heart of my eyes
and I wonder how many times
in the future I will be able to see
the same humble moments in others.
I wonder how many times
I will be able to see the deftness
and joy that others have felt
as they have traversed this planet,
making the world a better place
in a thousand quiet, transparent acts.
I may be slow to see
and to appreciate
how much
the small
and the smaller still
delights the pathways
of our lives,
but my eyes are
in the neighborhood.
Poem: Past Shame
0Dominique Larntz * January 8 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Past Shame
My little shame
goblin friend,
with your black-lit
punch card eyes
and your cascading
motherboard pigtails,
not only is it
appropriate
for my past
to say no
to me, but
it is time for me
to say no
to my past.
Poem: The Hero’s Welcome
0Dominique Larntz * January 7 * “Love Letters To My Body”
The Hero’s Welcome
When you are a little older
you may also be sad to look back
and find you have been judged
for extending a helping hand
during an evening’s walk
to a woman who has driven herself
kilometers too far
onto the twisting road
with all the signs that read
“Watch for falling rocks”
in either direction.
It has crushed us,
and it may do the same
to you, to help pull her awkwardly
through the unsteady window
from underneath her
boulder-topped car just
before a tons piece of granite
takes one more topple-turn
that would have crushed
her body completely
had you not wandered along
at the precise moment you did,
and to have her fix her gaze upon you
and instead of thanking you,
or thanking life,
or even exhaling,
she will tell you you can’t set her down,
can’t let go of her hand,
can’t call anyone for help,
that you must carry her with you,
and she will say,
as if she is joking,
I have to wonder
if you know
what you are doing.
She will ignore
the piece of the mountain
crushing the place where
her fragile body
was imprisoned
a moment ago.
She focuses only on
your aptitude and confidence
in your rescue role,
as if you are auditioning
for all future heroism
and the important thing
is your individual prowess
and not this beautiful
grace.
Poem: The Way For Me
0Dominique Larntz * January 6 * “Love Letters To My Body”
The Way for Me
When anxiety is eating me,
wrapping its toes around my ankle
like it is trying to warm up its feet,
I know now I need to stop
and then do the opposite;
comfort myself.
I can cook a warm, mellow meal.
I can decorate a room.
I can sleep too long in a clean bed.
I can write
anything.
Poem: Bearing Witness
0Dominique Larntz * January 5 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Bearing Witness
Does my body bear fruit
like citrus, with some
squeezable, zestable,
usable outer peel
protecting an inside
so irrevocably liquid
that all you have to do is
twist your hand a bit
to release its juice
along with its
dozens of seeds
and possibly so sour
or so sweet
that it transforms the taste of what it is mixed with
and it cleanses what it rubs against
and it stings wounds it drops into,
and are there many chances–
from all those citrus seeds–
for propagation?
Or does my body bear fruit
like a peach or a plum
with a soft outer skin
that reveals strength
and density
and sweetness
all the way to
a central core seed,
one purpose from which
this type of fruit
propagates?
Or does my body bear fruit
like a coconut,
growing a series of shells
around sweet water
high up in a palm tree
until the day it is ready
to trust that falling
is part if its nature
and it joyfully releases its hold
from the branch
where it has suckled,
and it turns
to embrace the ground
as it stops resisting gravity
and holding onto the trunk–
with its singular seed,
complex and protected
inside many layers,
knowing others
of its kind have been
picked up by waves
and traveled ten thousand
ocean miles to germinate
on a beach
far from
where it started?
Poem: Mindful
0Dominique Larntz * January 4 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Mindful
I just noticed
I was not
noticing
my body
here
right here
under
my
squeezed
mind.
Poem: Incarnation
0Dominique Larntz * January 3 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Incarnation
Stay. Sit with me
for a while.
Dreamworld is still
upon me
and I have not yet
encountered
the corsetry
of the ego,
in its military motions
and ambitious amplifiers.
The voice of life
is gentle,
supporting even
that folly.
If we are one,
we are more
like water
and less like
lions.
I am not sure
how to classify water.
We like to make movies
about predators like lions,
zooming in on how they
hunt and strike and eat
their prey.
Water does lots of things.
Maybe it preys.
It also forms us, fills us,
refreshes us,
grows and houses
our life
and the lives
of species
we have yet to
discover and name.
I praise the water
in me, the water outside of me,
that links me to every
being on this planet
and to the cosmos.
I know
I cannot stay
in this body–
in this life–
forever.
I don’t need
what people say
I need.
I do have the deep
desire to survive
that every life
shares–the blade of grass
that bends
instead of breaks
when your foot
descends
and the palm tree that
arcs into a parabola
when a hurricane hits
its beach.
But life made us mortal
and only our delusions
make us otherwise.
At this moment,
I am friends with life
and life has brought us
together, two bodies,
holding at least
as many states
as water.
Poem: Magic Spaces
0Dominique Larntz * January 2, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Magic Spaces
I find space in the most mundane places.
I have found too much air in ziploc bags in the freezer
after celebrations so we could tetris leftovers more frugally.
I have found I can pause between inhale and exhale
and calm myself down to my toes.
Today it was in the laundry room where I discovered
two huge drawers under the washer I never knew existed.
This makes me question the definition of mundane.
Healing is found in the same way for me.
The things I am not doing are better for me than the
things I am supposed to do.
Sometimes when I get very still.
Very still.
I can ask, and my body will present an idea to me, one all my own
that appears like an image in my mind. An ‘of course’ that was there
all along, like those drawers under my washer and dryer, a place
to keep the things that will scrub away the years of abuse
and hardship my inner and outer world have heaped upon this
magical, wondrous, gorgeous, moving coalition of cells
that has befriended me in this life.
Carrying the most precious messages of all.
Poem: This is Where I Live
0Dominique Larntz * January 1, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
This is Where I Live
I love my rich body,
and its pleasure
in pouring
into the world
like water.
I can sense a way
to hold myself
as I have spiraled
about you
and as I have been
the sweetest love letter
enveloped within
your arms.
There is no gratitude
physical enough
or loud enough
to express
the truth
that we ache
and arch
and reach
into mature creatures
as we see the seeds
of our identity
in the eyes
of our lovers.
Welcome to Pottsville
0Whilst Dominique and were driving home from our vacation in Portland, OR, last month, I saw this exit sign for Pottsville, OR, and what follows kinda happened spontaneously. Here we were hurtling down the highway whilst I was dictating the rough draft to Dominique in my silly Clem Potts voice, and she, in the passenger seat all the while typing furiously into our little HP mini computer. It’s been rewritten and rewritten (always better in the rewrite, eh?) and I am finally ready to show it to my friend and wonderfully talented artiste’, Danny Green, since it was he who I was thinking of whilst I was composing it. He has a wonderful exaggerated comic style, it’s almost as if it were written for him–no wait–it was! “Clem” is kind of an esoteric joke betwixt he and I, and I do so hope he will relent and bring this sucker home!
So anyway, here it is. As always, let me know what you think.
**********************************************************************************
Welcome to Pottsville
Page 1
2 panels
Panel 1
Int: POV: Side view of ceiling, balding (wisps of hair sprouting from the top of his head), beer-bellied guy, watching TV wearing old, stained, athletic undershirt and boxer shorts with bunnies on them extending from the front of an old, torn-up, plaid couch, skinny legs and feet, covered with fuzzy bunny slippers up on coffee table. Large hairy arm resting on couch arm, holding beer can. Right side of panel, old beat up TV, rabbit ears with coat hanger, wrapped in tin foil. In front of beer can is old fashioned remote with big buttons. TV has one speech balloon.
TV: And we’ll be right back…
Panel 2:
Int: POV: From the guy’s right shoulder. You see his beer belly, his bunny covered boxers, his hairy arm holding the beer can, and the arm of the couch. You can see bony knees on the skinny legs in the bunny slippers. In the background is the TV, partially obscured by the bunny slippers. On the TV screen, big old balding fat guy with a big nose, wearing cheap black suit and white shirt with a wide tie (garish as you like). Pots, all kinds of pots, ceramic, cooking, flower, Native American and any other type of pot you can think of are surrounding him everywhere. TV has one speech balloon.
TV: Howdy folks! Welcome to Pottsville, Oregon!
Page 2
2 panels
Panel 1
Int: POV: Framed by the bunny slippers, the TV appears zoomed in. Same view on TV as page1 panel 2. Clem has one speech balloon.
Clem: Clem Potts here. Lemme ask ya a question…
Panel 2
Int: POV: Nothing but TV screen outlined by frame. Clem in foreground, and has one speech balloon.
Clem: Do you need some pots?
Page 3
5 panels (Panels 4/5 is split in half horizontally)
Panel 1
Int: POV: From TV camera in studio, where you can see even more pots than were on screen. Clem has one speech balloon.
Clem: Then come on down to Pottsville. We got lots of pots.
Panel 2
Int: POV: Full panel of huge, ugly ceramic pot. Clem (voice over) has one speech balloon.
Clem: Big pots.
Panel 3
Int: POV: Clem from waist up, holding a little tiny pot. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: Little pots.
Panel 4
Int. POV: Clem holding a large brown pot with a beige top on it. Clem has one voice over speech balloon.
Clem: Pots with tops.
Panel 5
Int: POV: Same shot as panel 4, except Clem has obviously removed the top (he’s holding it in his hand). He has one speech balloon.
Clem: Pots with no tops.
Page 4
4 panels
Panel 1
Int: POV: Same shot as Page 3, panels 4 and 5, except Clem is holding the pot on its side with one arm and holding the top with his other hand. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: We got pots with tops on the side. Don’t see that every day, huh?
Panel 2
Int: POV: Clem holding the same pot upside down with the top askew. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: We got pots with tops on the bottom. Betcha weren’t expecting that.
Panel 3
Int: POV: TV studio, Clem standing in the midst of all the different pots, arms outspread. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: So come on down to Pottsville. We got pots for your friends. Pots for your friends’ friends.
Panel 4
Int: POV: TV studio, Clem is holding a gaily painted flower pot with one flower in it: He has one speech balloon.
Clem: Pots for moms…
Page 5
4 panels
Panel 1
Int: POV: TV studio, Clem holding a pot so big he can barely wrap his arms around it. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: Pots for pops…
Panel 2
Int: POV: TV studio, Waist high shot of Clem and he’s holding a tiny little toilet with the fingers of one hand supporting it from underneath and the other he’s holding the toilet lid at a 45% angle. He has one speech balloon.
Clem: We’ve even got pots for tots.
Panel 3
Int: POV: TV studio, Clem holding his hand up to his mouth conspiratorially. He has one speech balloon;
Clem: And if you’re drunk,
Panel 4
Int: POV: Table top with a big brown jug with X X X across the lower 2/3 beige bottom like Lil Abner’s hillbilly clan used to drink out of. There is a caption.
Caption: We got pots for sots!
Page 6
2 Panels
Panel 1
Int: TV studio. Clem standing in the midst of all these pots with his arms spread. He’s very small being surrounded by all the pots. He has two interlinked speech balloons, one on either side of the frame.
Clem: So come on down to Pottsville. We can handle all your potting needs.
Clem: Heck, some folks say we’re the pot capital of the world.
Panel 2
Int: TV studio. Clem has one hand open toward his pots and one hand raised with forefinger extended toward the ceiling. He has one large speech balloon.
Clem: So git yerself down to Pottsville, but watch yer speed, because I’m also the sheriff, the mayor, and the justice of the peace. Ya’ll come now, y’here?
end
MEET Drake Savage
013 years
by admin
in Savage the Comic
Way back in 2005 when Jake and I went to our very first San Diego Comic Con, I was fortunate to meet and befriend David Lloyd (Google him) and show him the prose version of what I had finished thus far on “Savage Investigations.” He was kind enough to read it and said that he liked it but for the name “Drake Savage.” He did not think that Drake was a very realistic or plausible name. I felt very strong about that name and set about to justify Drake’s name. So I came up with a tale of how his mother dropped him off as a newborn in the wee hours of the morning at The Drake Hotel in Chicago, and Frank Savage, the night manager, would end up adopting him. This is the first four pages of the comic script for “MEET Drake Savage”, which is the back story on Savage. If this works out I might do some more “MEET…” back stories for other main characters in the novel. David also told me that he enjoyed the prose draft of “Savage” (it was only a hundred plus pages at the time–it’s grown since then) and he didn’t recommend that I turn it into a graphic novel. My plan is to release it as both a prose novel and a graphic novel simultaneously, and it is proving to be a trial, but it’s like I always say sometimes, “Tenacity is its own reward…”
Anyway, here it is. I’d appreciate any feedback you’d care to offer, too.
MEET DRAKE SAVAGE
Written by CHUCK LARNTZ
Art by CORY KOOMOA
For David
Copyright, 2011
Page 1-full page EXT: NIGHT: Background is the front of the Drake Hotel in Chicago, with the famous Drake Hotel neon sign at the top of the panel. Foreground silhouette of the back of a girl from the waist up. She’s carrying what appears to be a large basket on her right arm.
CAPTION: 1968, 2:45 A.M.
Page 2: 4 panels, 2 top, 2 bottom
Panel 1: EXT: NIGHT: Same background shot of the hotel as page 1 but the girl has gotten smaller because she is walking across the street.
No dialogue
Panel 2: EXT: NIGHT: Main entrance fills screen. Girl, now lit from behind, back still to us, peering through the door. She is dirty and unkempt, basket is weighing her down. She is hunched over as she puts her hand on the door to open it. We can see rough details of the lobby through the door, table in center with huge flower vase and registration desk across back wall, unoccupied. Lobby is deserted.
No dialogue
Panel 3: INT: See reference of lobby. No clerk at the registration desk at the rear of the lobby. Girl walking towards the round table in the center of the lobby, lifting the basket to place it on the table.
No dialogue
Panel 4: INT: Looking towards entrance from inside the lobby. Basket in foreground. We can see there’s a newborn baby in the basket with a note pinned to the blanket. In background, girl is fleeing the lobby. We never see her face, only her blond hair flying out behind her as she runs out towards the entrance doors.
NOTE: PLEASE GIVE MY BABY A BETTER LIFE THAN I CAN
Page 3: 4 Panels: 1 and 2 across the top of page, panel 1 is a third of the top of page and Panel 2 is two thirds. 3 and 4 side by side, bottom two thirds of page.
Panel 1: INT: The view from directly in front of the registration desk. Two clerks are coming through the entrance behind the desk, one male, the other female, wearing hotel uniforms.
MALE CLERK: Well, I’m glad we got that taken care of!
FEMALE: Yeah, thanks for your help. I couldn’t have done it alone.
MALE: No sweat.
Panel 2: INT: Long shot from side of lobby, registration desk on right side of panel and the table with the basket on the left, emphasizing the distance between the desk and the table in the center of the lobby.
The lobby is dim with a cone of light shining down from the ceiling illuminating the basket on the table, the other light source is on the registration desk. FEMALE is pointing at the basket and has one word balloon.
FEMALE: Bobby, what’s that?
Panel 3: INT: Bobby is standing next to the basket. He has one word balloon.
BOBBY: There’s a note, Sarah. Call the boss.
Panel 4: INT: POV: Sarah is speaking into the phone. She has one word balloon.
SARAH: Mr. Savage, could you please come to the lobby?
Page 4: 4 Panels, quarter page each.
Panel 1: INT: POV: From in front of Frank Savage’s desk. He’s looking down at some paperwork. There’s a nameplate at the front edge of the desk that says “Frank Savage” and underneath, “Night Manager” in the same Old English font as the sign on the top of the building, black background with white letters. He’s holding the phone. He’s about 40 and bald with black hair barely covering his ears (it’s the 60’s) with a round face that says he’s a little pudgy. He’s wearing a wide black tie over a gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows over coarse black haired forearms. He’s also got a thick, well groomed moustache barely curling around the sides of his mouth. There’s a black jacket on a hanger behind his desk. Frank has one word balloon.
FRANK: Okay, I’ll be right there.
Panel 2: INT: Frank enters behind desk from the same door that Sarah and Bobby entered in Page 3, Panel 1. He’s wearing a black suit jacket. He’s short, a little taller than Sarah and several inches shorter than Bobby. Frank has one word balloon.
FRANK: I’m here, what’s up?
Panel 3: INT: Half body shot of Sarah, she’s pointing towards the lobby. She has one word balloon.
SARAH: Over there.
Panel 4: INT: POV from Frank looking across the lobby at Bobby standing next to the basket.
No dialogue
End of first installment for string.
Page 5:
Panel 1: INT: Frank, Bobby, and Sarah are standing by the basket. Frank is holding the note. Frank has one large word balloon.
FRANK: I can’t wait to hear how somebody could just waltz in here and leave a baby at the internationally famous, five-star, Drake Hotel, and neither of you saw anything!
Panel 2: INT: Closeup of Sarah and Bobby. She has one word balloon, so does Bobby.
SARAH: It’s my fault, Mr. Savage. I asked Bobby to help me with those boxes. We were only away from the desk for a couple of minutes and we left the door open so we could hear if anybody came to the desk.
BOBBY: And when we came out, there it was.
Panel 3: INT: Closeup of Frank. He is angry and has one word balloon.
FRANK: IT? Bobby, this is a child! A small human being, not an IT!
Panel 4: INT: Bobby, looking embarrassed. He has one word balloon
BOBBY: I’m sorry Mr. Savage. I didn’t mean…
Panel 4: Frank, still angry, has two word balloons.
FRANK: Forget it.
FRANK: Sarah, get Mike from Security down here. We’re going to need his police contacts to keep this under wraps. Wouldn’t do for this to get out. A baby! At The Drake!
More to come. Thanks for reading…
Be Well,
Chuck
Goodbyes: Issue 1, and Aftermath: Issue 2: 20111029
013 years
by chuck
in Savage the Comic
SAVAGE INVESTIGATIONS
Issue # 1
Goodbyes
STORY BY
CHUCK LARNTZ
email: chuck@larntz.com
ART BY
NATHAN HENDRICKSEN
Copyright © 2005 and 2008
SPLASH PAGE? IF SO, SHOW THE PARTYING GROUP OF MEN IN MID-PARTY, EATING, DRINKING, POINTING, LAUGHING, AND JOKING. GENERALLY MAKING MERRY. WE CAN TALK ABOUT THE LAYOUT OF THE SPLASH PAGE.
PAGE 1 (five panels, 1st across the top of page and the other four, two across)
PANEL 1 (across the top of the page so you get a good shot of the setting)
POV LOOKING AT SAVAGE’S 7 MAN TEAM, ALL SEATED AROUND A LARGE EIGHT FOOT ROUND TABLE IN A RESTAURANT. THERE ARE DISHES IN FRONT OF THEM, AS THEY HAVE JUST FINISHED A GOOD MEAL. THEY ARE THE ONLY PATRONS. THEIR HAIR IS CUT MILITARY SHORT. THEY WEAR NO OVERTLY AMERICAN CLOTHING, AND THEY ALL ARE OF MIXED ETHNICITIES. SAVAGE IS STANDING, CENTER OF PANEL, ADDRESSING THE GROUP, WHOSE BACKS ARE TO US, AND MATT IS FACING US TO SAVAGE’S LEFT, THE POSITION OF HONOR.
SAVAGE:
Matt, we’ve been through a lot together in the past five years.
PANEL 2
POV CLOSER UPPER BODY SHOT OF SAVAGE AS HE CONTINUES TO SPEAK.
SAVAGE:
Is there anything I can do or say to make you sign up for another hitch?
PANEL 3
POV SAVAGE’S VIEWPOINT, LOOKING AT HEAD AND SHOULDER SHOT OF MATT. HE IS SMILING AS IF HE CAN’T BELIEVE THEY ARE GOING THERE YET AGAIN…
MATT:
Afraid not, Chief. I just want to go back to Albuquerque and be a good cop, like my brother.
PANEL 4
POV OVER MATT’S SHOULDER AT THE MEN GATHERED AROUND THE TABLE.
MATT:
I’ve only got a week to go and then I’m back home on the APD Bomb Squad.
PANEL 5
POV PROFILE TO SHOULDER OF MATT, WHO HAS TURNED TO LOOK AT SAVAGE (ALSO IN PROFILE ON OTHER SIDE OF PANEL). BOTH MEN ARE SMILING GOOD NATUREDLY.
MATT:
I can’t believe you’re still asking me. You know they’re holding a spot for me.
SAVAGE:
Come on Matt, you know I have to keep asking. You’re just too good to let go lightly.
PAGE 2 (6 panels, standard 6 panel page)
PANEL 1
POV OPPOSITE OF PREVIOUS PANEL WITH MATT ON RIGHT AND SAVAGE ON LEFT.
SAVAGE:
It’s just that, well, we’ve kinda gotten used to you, and what if your replacement turns out to be a jerk?
MATT:
What can I say, Chief? I know you’ll straighten him out.
PANEL 2
POV CLOSER UPPER BODY SHOT OF SAVAGE. HE’S SHRUGGING HIS SHOULDERS, ARMS OUT TO THE SIDE, PALMS UP.
SAVAGE:
I keep hoping you’ll change your mind. Albuquerque P.D. had better know how lucky they are to get you.
PANEL 3
POV WIDE ANGLE SHOT OF ENTIRE GROUP AROUND THE TABLE, SAVAGE ON LEFT AND THE OTHERS TO HIS RIGHT. SAVAGE IS HOLDING HIS GLASS HIGH, AS IS THE REST OF THE GROUP.
SAVAGE:
So, as much as it pains me to say it, here’s hoping you have a fulfilling career helping the folks back home.
PANEL 4
POV SHOT OF WHOLE TABLE, GLASSES RAISED.
REST OF TEAM:
HEAR, HEAR! (in unison—one sentence, bold type, as if shouted, several tails from speech bubble on right side of panel)
PANEL 5
POV FULL ROOM SHOT: TABLE ON LEFT SIDE OF PANEL AND THE RESTAURANT DOOR OPEN ON RIGHT.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 6
POV HALF CLOSER SHOT OF OPEN DOOR AS LIEUTENANT WALKING IN WITH MAJOR CLOSE BEHIND. BOTH WEARING SHORT SLEEVE LIGHT BLUE SHIRTS WITH BLUE TROUSERS, UNIFORM OF THE DAY, AND THEY ARE REMOVING THEIR GARRISON CAPS.
PAGE 3 (5 panels)
PANEL 1
POV ¾ SIDE SHOT OF SAVAGE AND MAJOR SPEAKING TO ONE ANOTHER. MAJOR IS VERY CLOSE TO SAVAGE’S EAR AND LT. STANDING A FEW PACES BACK ALMOST OUT OF FRAME.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
POV MAJOR WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR, LT HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN FOR MAJOR. SAVAGE STILL STANDING, NOW FACING FRANCO, RESTAURANT OWNER, WHO IS COMING IN FROM THE KITCHEN AT THE LEFT SIDE OF FRAME. HE HAS AN APRON TIED IN HALF AROUND HIS WAIST AND IS HOLDING A TOWEL. HE WEARS BLACK PANTS AND A WHITE SHIRT, SLEEVES ROLLED UP TO THE FOREARMS. HE’S A LITTLE PUDGY AND HAS A BIG BLACK MUSTACHE AND UNKEMPT CURLY BLACK HAIR.
SAVAGE:
Gonna have to pack it in, boys. Franco, my friend, I’m afraid we have to leave. We’ve got work to do.
FRANCO:
Is okay, Drake. Just be careful.
PANEL 3 (across whole page for the wide shot)
POV OUTSIDE OF FRANCO’S. NIGHTTIME STREET SCENE WITH WINDOWS AND WINDOWBOXES WITH FLOWERS AND CURB AND MAYBE A BICYCLE CHAINED TO A LIGHT POLE—THE TEAM WALKING UP TO AN UNMARKED MILITARY SWAT TYPE BREAD TRUCK VAN. REAR DOOR IS OPEN AND YOU CAN SEE ONE FOOT STICKING OUT THE DOOR AS A MEMBER OF THE TEAM IS CLIMBING IN.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 4
POV FROM CENTER OF REAR DOORS OF VAN. MEN LINED UP ALONG SEATS ON EACH SIDE OF VAN AND SAVAGE FACING THEM SEATED BEHIND THE DRIVER. SAVAGE IS REMOVING AN 8 X 10 PHOTO FROM THE FOLDER HE IS HOLDING (PHOTO IS OF GIRL WEARING C4 VEST—CAN ONLY SEE THE TOP OF PHOTO AND IT’S SIDEWAYS SINCE HE’S PULLING IT OUT OF THE FOLDER—NO NEED FOR DETAIL…).
SAVAGE:
Okay, here’s what we’ve got so far, Armando Francelli’s daughter was kidnapped from her private school in Rome early this afternoon.
PANEL 5
POV WAIST HIGH SHOT OF SAVAGE IN SAME POSITION AS BEFORE AS CAMERA IS ZOOMING IN. HANDS PHOTO TO MAN ON HIS RIGHT.
SAVAGE:
As you know, Francelli is the Italian Minister of Finance, so all eyes are going to be on this one. By the numbers, gentlemen.
PAGE 4 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV FINAL ZOOM OF SAVAGE’S HEAD AND SHOULDERS AS HE CONTINUES.
SAVAGE:
She’s currently standing in front of the entrance gate of the American Embassy in Naples. The gate guard took this picture.
PANEL 2
SAME AS PAGE 3, PANEL 5. FIRST GUY IS HOLDING THE PHOTO.
FIRST GUY:
She’s wearing a vest wired with enough C-4 to blow up four city blocks.
SAVAGE:
That’s right, Mickey, and then some.
PANEL 3
POV SHOT OF SAVAGE FROM REAR CORNER OF VAN. FIRST GUY IS PASSING PHOTO TO SECOND GUY TO HIS RIGHT.
SAVAGE:
Nobody saw anything. She just showed up. Twenty minutes ago, a van pulled up outside the embassy, pushed her out, and drove off.
PANEL 4
POV WAIST HIGH SHOT OF SAVAGE.
SAVAGE:
Since the grounds of the embassy extend to the curb, she’s technically on American soil. It’s our job.
PANEL 5
POV SIDE SHOT OF SAVAGE FROM OTHER REAR CORNER OF VAN. SECOND GUY HOLDING THE PHOTO.
SAVAGE:
The Carabinieri have cordoned off a ten-block area surrounding the embassy. Mostly office buildings and warehouses so there’s not much traffic this time of night.
PANEL 6
POV 3/4 shot of Savage from back of the van. SECOND GUY PASSING PHOTO TO MATT.
SAVAGE:
You’re gonna be on your own, boys. They want me back at the base command post but I’ll be with you every step of the way.
PAGE 5 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV PROFILE HALF BODY SHOT OF SAVAGE.
SAVAGE:
Fortunately, nobody’s called CNN yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
PANEL 2
POV SIDE SHOT OF SAVAGE, MATT IN FOREGROUND. MATT IS HOLDING PHOTO AND LOOKING AT IT.
SAVAGE:
Matt, you will disable the bomb.
MATT:
Chief, how old is this girl?
SAVAGE:
She’s 15, why?
MATT:
And she was kidnapped how long ago?
PANEL 3
POV OPPOSITE SHOT OF PANEL 2, SAVAGE AND MATT REVERSED POSITIONS AND OTHER SIDE OF THEIR HEADS.
SAVAGE:
Around 3:30 this afternoon. What are you getting at?
MATT:
I want to do this without the bomb suit.
PANEL 4
POV HEAD SHOT OF SAVAGE, STERN LOOK ON HIS FACE.
SAVAGE:
Didn’t I just say, ‘by the numbers’? That goes against every regulation on the books. Why?
PANEL 5
POV HEAD SHOT OF MATT AS HE EXPLAINS.
MATT:
Because she’s been a hostage for what, 10 hours, now?
SAVAGE:
That’s about right.
MATT:
She’s tired and scared. Probably disoriented.
PANEL 6
POV PULL BACK TO HALF BODY SHOT OF MATT, HE’S HOLDING PHOTO IN ONE HAND AS HE SPEAKS.
MATT:
The bomb suit is a scary thing.
PAGE 6 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV DRAW CAMERA BACK ON MATT TO ¾ VIEW.
MATT:
That much C-4 is going to be heavy so she’s gonna be unstable on her feet and any unnecessary movement could set it off. That may be why they just pushed her out of the van and left.
PANEL 2
POV SIDE SHOT OF MATT AND SAVAGE.
SAVAGE:
Go on.
MATT:
I’m afraid the suit would scare the bejesus out of her. MAYBE SHOW A THOUGHT BUBBLE FROM MATT OF THE BOMB SUIT. I HAVE PICS IF YOU WANT THEM.
PANEL 3
POV OVER SAVAGE’S SHOULDER FACING MATT.
MATT:
This is a delicate op and needs a personal touch. I want her to be able to look in my eyes and I want to see hers. I don’t want her to see her own distorted reflection in the face mask of the suit.
PANEL 4
POV SIDE SHOT OF MATT FACING SAVAGE.
MATT:
She’s a scared little girl and all it will take is just one false move and that much C-4 is gonna blow the bomb suit to bits anyway, and everything else within a two block radius.
PANEL 5
POV MATT FROM OVER SAVAGE’S SHOULDER.
SAVAGE:
I have to admit you’re right, but you are at least going to wear body armor, helmet cam, and headset. I want to be in constant contact.
MATT (SMILING):
Yes, sir.
PANEL 6
POV HEAD SHOT OF SAVAGE, CONCERNED LOOK ON HIS FACE.
SAVAGE (thought bubble):
Matt’s right, the bomb suit is clumsy and wouldn’t afford much protection if the thing went off. Just the same, if this goes wrong…
PAGE 7 (3 panels)
SPLIT PAGE IN HALF AND TOP TWO QUARTERS 1 AND 2 STARKLY LIT HARD BLACK AND WHITE CONTRAST THROUGHOUT THESE TWO SHOTS. BOTTOM HALF PAGE IS PANEL 3, FULLY DETAILED CLOSEUP OF GIOVANNA’S FACE.
PANEL 1
POV LONG DISTANCE (ABOUT A BLOCK) OF THE FRONT OF THE U.S. CONSOLATE IN NAPLES. THERE IS A SILHOUETTE OF A HUNCHED OVER FIGURE STANDING IN FRONT OF THE MAIN ENTRANCE GATE, BATHED IN THE HARSH GLARE OF SPOTLIGHTS SHINING DOWN FROM THE ROOF AND MOBILE LIGHTING UNITS SET UP TO ILLUMINATE THE AREA.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
POV SAME ANGLE BUT ZOOMED IN TO REVEAL FULL BODY SHOT OF TALL, GANGLY GIRL SLIGHTLY STOOPED OVER FROM THE WEIGHT OF THE VEST COVERED WITH ½ POUND BRICKS OF C-4 IN POCKETS SEWN INTO THE VEST WITH WIRES SPROUTINGFROM EACH BRICK. SHE’S WEARING A SCHOOL UNIFORM OF A PLAID, KNEE-LENGTH SKIRT AND WHITE BLOUSE UNDER THE VEST. ONE OF HER SLEEVES IS TORN AND HER WHITE KNEE SOCKS ARE TORN AND DIRTY. HER ONCE SHINY BLACK SHOES ARE SCUFFED. SHE IS TALL FOR HER AGE AND THAT’S ANOTHER REASON FOR THE STOOPED POSTURE, SHE HASN’T YET GROWN INTO HER HEIGHT. IN TIME, SHE WILL GROW INTO A STAUESQUE BEAUTY BUT FOR NOW SHE HUNCHES OVER TO BE THE SAME HEIGHT AS HER PEERS. SHE STANDS ALONE IN THE HARSH WHITE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTING UNITS.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 3 (bottom half of page)
POV SAME ANGLE AS PREVIOUS TWO SHOTS BUT A CLOSE UP OF GIOVANNA FRANCELLI’S TERRIFIED, TEAR STAINED FACE. SHE IS BEAUTIFUL WITH HUGE BROWN EYES AND LONG, STRAIGHT BROWN HAIR, HIGH CHEEKBONES AND ALMOST TOO LONG OVAL FACE. THERE IS A BRIUSE OVER HER LEFT EYE AND A TRICKLE OF BLOOD RUNNING FROM IT, WHERE ONE OF HER CAPTORS STRUCK HER.
Dramatic, ain’t it?
PAGE 8 (4 panels- panel 1 across top of page)
PANEL 1
POV DISTANCE SHOT OF THE VAN ROLLING THROUGH THE ITALIAN COUNTRYSIDE, HEADLIGHTS CUTTING THE GLOOM OF NIGHT.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
FRONT SHOT OF VAN AT THE ENTRANCE GATE OF THE BASE
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 3
REAR SHOT OF VAN, NOW ON BASE DRIVING UP TO COMMAND POST.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 4 (across bottom of page)
POV DISTANCE SHOT OF THE TEAM SPLITTING UP. TEAM CLIMBING INTO TWO MILITARY TRANSPORTS PARKED TO THE RIGHT OF THE STAIRS LEADING TO COMMAND POST, AND SAVAGE WALKING UP STAIRS OF COMMAND POST.
PAGE 9 (4 panels)
PANEL 1 (across top of page)
LONG SHOT OF TWO TRANSPORTS GOING OPPOSITE DIRECTION OF VAN IN PAGE 8, PANEL 1 SO READER THINKS THE TEAM IS GOING TO THE SITE.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
AERIAL SHOT (MAYBE FROM ROOFTOP) OF TRANSPORTS GOING THROUGH NAPLES. STREETS ARE DESERTED. GREEN AND WHITE POLICIA CARS AT EVERY CORNER—THE CORDONED LINE.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 3
ANT’S EYE VIEW OF THE TWO TRANSPORTS ARRIVING ON SCENE.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 4 (across bottom of page)
WIDE SHOT OF TRANSPORTS ON LEFT, GUARD GATE ON RIGHT, EMBASSY IN BACKGROUND AND GIOVANNA IN THE CENTER OF FRAME.
VOICE FROM TRANSPORT:
We’re here, Chief.
SAVAGE: (in static electronic sound bubble)
All right, boys, get everything set up.
PAGE 10 (8 panels)
PANEL 1
POV SIDE VIEW SHOT OF MATT, WALKING UP TO GIOVANNA IN FULL BATTLE DRESS WITH A HELMET CAM AND POLYCARBONATE FACE SHIELD. HE IS HOLDING A BOTTLE OF BOTTLED WATER ABOUT TO OFFER HER A DRINK AND HAS A BIG SMILE ON HIS FACE.
MATT: (thought bubble)
I’d like to get my hands on the punk that hit her.
PANEL 2
POV MATT, FROM WAIST UP, GIOVANNA’S POV AS HE’S RAISING THE BOTTLE OF WATER. HE IS SMILING BROADLY, AND YOU CAN SEE HIS FACE THROUGH THE FACE SHIELD, EYES WIDE AND NON-THREATENING.
MATT:
Parlate’ inglese?
GIOVANNA:
A little.
MATT:
Heck, I’ll bet you speak better than me. Let’s get that thing off of you, okay?
GIOVANNA:
Yes, grazie.
PANEL 3
POV MATT FROM GIOVANNA’S POV.
MATT:
Would you like a drink?
PANEL 4
POV GIOVANNA FROM MATT’S POV.
GIOVANNA:
Thank you.
PANEL 5
POV HALF BODYSHOT OF MATT. MATT IS STILL SMILING AND TWISTING THE CAP OFF THE BOTTLE OF WATER.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 6
POV MATT RAISES THE BOTTLE TO HER LIPS.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 7
MATT SETS THE BOTTLE OF WATER DOWN ON THE GROUND.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 8
POV SIDE ½ BODY SHOT OF MATT AND GIOVANNA. MATT IS REACHING FOR GIOVANNA’S HANDS.
NO DIALOGUE
PAGE 11 (3 panels)
PANEL 1
POV MATT HAS BOTH OF HER HANDS IN HIS.
MATT:
What is your name?
GIOVANNA:
Giovanna. It means God is gracious.
PANEL 2
POV ¾ VIEW OF MATT AND GIOVANNA. MATT IS STILL HOLDING HER HANDS.
MATT:
Yes, Giovanna, He is.
PANEL 3 (bottom half of page)
POV SHOT FROM BEHIND AND TO THE RIGHT OF SAVAGE AS HE SITS AT THE COMMAND CONTROL CONSOLE. A LARGE 21 INCH MONITOR IN THE CENTER, FLANKED BY TWO 17 INCH MONITORS. THERE IS A SLIDER SWITCH ON A CONSOLE FOR EACH MONITOR AND A FEW MORE PUSHBUTTONS AND SWITCHES. THE 17 INCH MONITOR SCREENS SHOW TWO DIFFERENT VIEWS OF MATT AND GIOVANNA HOLDING HANDS. THE RIGHT ONE IS A CLOSER VIEW. ITS SLIDER SWITCH IS TOWARD THE MID RANGE WHILE TO OTHER SLIDER IS ALL THE WAY DOWN AND THE PICTURE IS SMALLER. THERE IS A PIECE OF TAPE ACROSS THE TOP OF EACH THAT SAYS “ROOF EAST” AND “ROOF WEST” RESPECTIVELY. THE BIG MONITOR IS MATT’S HELMET CAM AND IT SHOWS GIOVANNA’S FACE IN ADDITION TO TWO JAGGED LINE READOUTS RUNNING ACROSS THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN, ONE WITH A HEART SHAPED SYMBOL AND THE OTHER A SYMBOL OF A PERSON SPEAKING WITH VOICE LINES COMING OUT OF THE MOUTH. THERE IS ALSO A KEYBOARD AND MOUSE IN THE CENTER OF THE DESK. HE’S WEARING A FUTURISTIC HEADSET WITH THE BOOM ON THE RIGHT SIDE.
SAVAGE:
Boys, get everybody out of that building, and get the blast screen set up around Matt and the girl.
PAGE 12 (5 panels)
PANEL 1 (across top of page)
POV STREET SCENE WITH THE OTHER TEAM MEMBERS LEADING A FEW PEOPLE OUT THE GATES TO SAFETY ON THE LEFT SIDE AND TWO OTHER TEAM MEMBERS FINISHING SETTING UP THE BLAST SCREEN, A 10 FOOT HIGH BY SIX FOOT WIDE CLEAR POLYCARBONITE OCTAGON WITH STEEL RODS REINFORCING THE SIDES AND ALONG THE GROUND AND OUT IN A 20 FOOT SPOKE PATTERN TO STABILIZE IT. MATT AND GIOVANNA ARE IN THE CENTER, STILL HOLDING HANDS. NEXT TO THE BLAST SCREEN IS THE BOMB DISPOSAL CART. IT LOOKS LIKE A LARGE, HIGH TECH BABY BUGGY WITH SHOCK ABSORBERS AND BALLOON TIRES. [I ENVISIONED A CROSS BETWEEN THE PENGUIN’S BABY CARRIAGE IN THE 2ND BATMAN MOVIE AND NOLAN’S BATMOBILE IN “BATMAN BEGINS”] THE TOP IS OPEN.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
POV SIDE SHOT OF MATT AND GIOVANNA STILL HOLDING HANDS, HER FACE IS ALMOST CALM, NO LONGER TERRIFIED.
MATT:
Now, let’s see if we can get this vest off of you.
PANEL 3
POV 1/3 SIDE SHOT OF SAVAGE.
SAVAGE:
Matt, how are you feeling?
PANEL 4
POV HALF BODY SHOT OF MATT, STILL HOLDING HANDS. HE IS SMILING CONFIDENTLY.
MATT:
Everything’s fine chief.
PANEL 5
POV FULL FACE SHOT OF GIOVANNA, FROWNING LIKE SHE’S CONFUSED.
GIOVANNA:
Who are you speaking to?
PAGE 13 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV MATT ¼ UPPER BODY SHOT, POINTING AT THE HEADSET.
MATT:
Es mi capo, my chief. He’s in my ear.
PANEL 2
POV 45 DEGREE ANGLE SHOT FROM GIOVANNA’S POV. MATT IS TAKING OFF HIS HELMET.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 3
POV MATT’S POV HE HAS PUT THE HELMET ON GIOVANNA’S HEAD. SHE LOOKS RIDICULOUS AND IS ALMOST SMILING.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 4
POV Rear shot of Savage as before except now Matt’s face fills the big screen.
MATT (electronic jagged bubble) from screen:
Say hello, Chief.
PANEL 5
POV Close up of Savage as he speaks into headset.
SAVAGE (smiling):
Ciao, Giovanna. Don’ preoccupazione di t. Matt lo proteggerà.
PANEL 6
POV Head shot of Giovanna, HER head IS dwarfed by Matt’s helmet. She is half smiling, eyes wide.
GIOVANNA:
Grazie, il signore, capo.
PAGE 14 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV ¾ side shot of Matt and Giovanna from her side. Matt has put his helmet back ON.
MATT:
What did you say to her, Chief?
PANEL 2
POV Savage from rear so we see Giovanna again on the big screen.
SAVAGE:
I told her not to worry. That you would protect her. So don’t make a liar out of me and get to work.
PANEL 3
POV Matt faces one of the rooftop cameras and salutes with a huge grin on his face.
MATT:
Yes sir!
PANEL 4
POV Side upper half body shot. Matt Has taken both of Giovanna’s hands in his AGAIN and is looking into her eyes.
MATT:
Now Giovanna, I want you to take a deep breath very slowly, and let it out.
PANEL 5
POV Closeup of Giovanna’s face, eyes closed AND LIPS PURSED as she exhales. Her face is calm.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 6
MATT:
Now, let’s get you out of this vest so you can go home and see your Madre e Padre.
PAGE 15 (6 panels)
PANEL 1
POV Upper body ¾ shot of Matt pulling what looks like a flashlight out of his side pouch. It has a 3 inch rectangular screen at one end and a black dome at the other and a single button in the center of the shaft.
MATT:
This is an ultrasonic scope, like they use to see babies in the hospital.
PANEL 2
POV Closer shot of scope in Matt’s hand.
MATT:
I’ll use this to see what is inside the vest so I can disarm it. Then you can go home to your family, okay?
PANEL 3
POV Closeup of Giovanna’s face, a half smile.
GIOVANNA:
Oh yes. Grazie. I would like that very much.
PANEL 4
POV The screen of the scope in foreground showing a black square blob with several black wires coming off it.
MATT:
Oh, this will be easy.
PANEL 5
POV full body shot ¾ from Matt’s POV as he has LIFTed the vest from her shoulders.
MATT:
There, that’s better, isn’t it?
GIOVANNA (standing up straight now):
Yes, much.
PANEL 6
POV ¾ rear shot of Matt placing the vest into to the bomb cart. In the background two men are running up to take it away.
NO DIALOGUE
PAGE 16 (7 panels)
PANEL 1 (across the top of page)
POV Side shot of the two men pushing the bomb cart away from the blast shield.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 2
POV Over Matt’s shoulder, half body shot of Giovanna. Hanging around her neck is a lanyard with a small gray box about the size of a pack of cigarettes dangling from it.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 3
POV Side shot, knees up, of both Matt and Giovanna. Matt raising the scope close to the box.
MATT:
Just one more thing, and then we are finished.
PANEL 4
POV Same shot (PAGE 15, PANEL 4) of the scope screen in the foreground. This time there is a black RECTANGLE, THE battery, and half of the box is black with 2 wires coming from the top corners of the square leading to the top of the battery.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 5
POV Savage, from POV of his monitors. The background is dark and the monitor light is illuminating his face.
SAVAGE:
Matt, that looks like a plate detonator. If you try to cut one of those wires, it will go off.
MATT, a jagged voice bubble from the speaker off screen: Yeah, that’s right, Chief. I’ll pull the top off and check it out.
PANEL 6
POV Matt’s hands prying off the cover of the box. Show the cover lifted partially.
MATT:
Well, at least there’s no pressure switch.
PANEL 7
POV Closeup of the inside of the box. A small block of C-4 with a terminal at each top corner and a 9 volt battery, the positive and negative markings scratched off and THE TERMINALS ARE covered in solder. THERE’S A SMALL CIRCUIT BOARD BELOW THE BATTERY WITH A COUPLE OF RESISTORS, An illuminated GREEN LED, AND A TRANSISTOR SOLDERED TO IT. THE TWO WIRES RUN FROM THE BATTERY TO TERMINALS ON THE CIRCUIT BOARD. Both wires are the same color, a muddy brown (OR GRAY IF BLACK AND WHITE). The solder joints on each terminal ARE blobby and uneven.
NO DIALOGUE
PAGE 17 (8 panels)
PANEL 1
POV HEAD SHOT OF MATT.
MATT:
Must’ve had a sale on brown [OR GRAY, IF BLACK AND WHITE] wire at the terrorist electronics store. And look at that shoddy soldering work. These boys are real amateurs, eh, Chief?
PANEL 2
POV SAME AS PAGE 16, PANEL 5.
SAVAGE:
Be careful, Matt. I don’t like the looks of this. The biggest danger is over.
PANEL 3
POV HEAD SHOT OF MATT
SAVAGE (off panel, electronic bubble):
We can make her comfortable and bring somebody else in.
MATT:
Aw shucks, and keep this pretty little girl waiting? It’s no problem.
PANEL 4
POV HALF BODY SIDE SHOT OF MATT. HE’S PULLING A SMALL METER OUT OF HIS SIDE POUCH.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 5
POV Matt’s hands, IN ONE HAND HE’S HOLDING AN ANALOG MULTIMETER WITH A NEEDLE ON IT, reading 5 volts. THE DIAL IS SET TO DC VOLTS on the 0-10 scale. hE is CLIPPING A TINY ALLIGATOR CLIP TO ONE SIDE OF ONE OF THE RESISTORS. there’s a tiny clip on the other side of the resistor ON THE CIRCUIT BOARD.
MATT (from off panel):
All I have to do find the ballast resistor, there it is! Gotcha!
PANEL 6
MATT’S PULLING A SMALL PAIR OF PRECISION WIRE CUTTERS OUT OF HIS POUCH.
no dialogue
panel 7
CLOSE UP OF MATT’S HANDS HOLDING the wire cutters, jaws obviously open, ABOUT TO CUT THE RESISTOR CONNECTING LEAD.
MATT:
Now all I have to do is clip this little connection right here and–
PANEL 8
POV same shot as panel 7, but on Savage’s monitor, from the helmet cam and further away. the open jaws of the wire cutters hovering an inch above, not touching the RESISTOR.
PAGE 18, FULL PAGE PANEL, Last panel of Issue #1. Long shot of the blast shield as a huge explosion erupts from the center like a geyser of red and yellow and orange and black (OR GRAYS, IF BLACK AND WHITE). Might show silhouette of Matt and Giovanna SKELETONS in the center as it goes up.
sfx: WHOOM!
THE END
This is the first issue of a comic series based on a novel I am writing. Savage gets discharged from the Air Force as a result of this incident, and goes to Albuquerque to offer his condolences to Matt’s brother, Luke, who convinces him to stay in Albuquerque and become a private detective. Savage Investigations is a series of detective novels that I am writing.
Issue #2, AFTERMATH, is the second chapter of the novel. The government wants to blame the incident on Matt and deals with Savage being forced to retire from the military and assuming the blame for the deaths of Matt and Giovanna to appease the Italian government. Savage recommends Matt for the Silver Star medal for his bravery in the line of duty. Reluctantly, Colonel Harding, the Base Commander and Savage’s boss, agrees. Savage takes Matt’s Silver Star, awarded posthumously, in person to Matt’s brother in Albuquerque. The comic script for AFTERMATH has also been written and is in the final editing stages.
SAVAGE INVESTIGATIONS
Issue # 2
Aftermath
STORY BY
CHUCK LARNTZ
chuck@larntz.com
ARTWORK BY
NATHAN HENDRICKSEN
Copyright © 2005 and 2011
PAGE 1 FULL PAGE SPLASH SCREEN
POV Over Savage’s shoulder (show just his shoulder and the back of his head but focus on the video console). The SWANSON heartbeat and voiceprint screens are now straight lines. The big screen is blank and the other two screens show two vantage points of the same scene: grisly bits of body parts and blood all over the inside of the blast screen (the blast wasn’t strong enough to blow up the screen, but it’s smeared with blood and bits of bodies). The smaller screens are displaying the same scene from two angles atop the roof of the consulate so there’s no need for real detail and the main screen was Matt, who is now blown up, hence the blank screen. Show Matt’s helmet a few feet from the blast screen and maybe one of Giovanna’s Mary Jane shoes on its side.
SAVAGE: Oh my God! (big letters as an exclamation or very small letters in a big voice bubble, as if in shock—I’m kinda leaning towards the latter, more dramatic?)
PAGE 2-Three panels: One half page at the top and two quarter panels across bottom of page.
PANEL 1 (¼ page)
POV ¾ full on facing shot of Savage watching the console. His shoulders are slumped, face is devastated, horrified. Savage has one thought balloon and Mickey has one small jagged electronic speech balloon.
SAVAGE: Thought bubble: Should I have ordered him to use the bomb suit to finish the job?
MICKEY (one of Savage’s men, the acting leader on the scene): Chief? (The sound is coming from off screen in a jagged voice bubble)
PANEL 2 (¼ page)
POV ZOOM IN FROM SAME ANGLE AS PANEL ONE for HEAD SHOT OF SAVAGE. He has one thought balloon and Mickey has one electronic speech balloon.
SAVAGE: Did I just kill that kid? Those kids?
MICKEY: Chief? Are you there? (The sound is coming from off screen in a jagged voice bubble)
PANEL 3 (¼ page)
POV Mickey on the scene, holding his finger to the headset in his ear. Full body shot there’s chaos all around him with people darting everywhere. He’s still trying to raise Savage. There’s another man next to him. He’s looking at Johnny. Mickey has one balloon and Johnny has one balloon.
MICKEY: I can’t raise the Chief, Johnny.
JOHNNY: Keep tryin’, Mick. He’s gotta be there.
PANEL 4 (¼ page)
POV ¾ view facing Savage from left side, waist up. Mickey has one jagged speech balloon and Savage has one thought balloon.
MICKEY: Chief? (Same jagged voice bubble coming from off screen)
SAVAGE: Jolts to alertness (I don’t know you’re gonna draw that—maybe show him sitting up straight with action lines around his head?)
SAVAGE: Thought bubble: C’mon man, pull yourself together!
PAGE 3 Three panels, two across the top and one half page at bottom of page.
PANEL 1
POV Same as splash screen (over Savage’s other shoulder), except now monitors display men picking up bits of clothing and body parts (DON’T KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SHOW BODY PARTS) and putting them in various sizes of clear plastic ZipLoc evidence bags with a three inch horizontal red band close to the top. Show two small piles of bags, one for Matt (his helmet in a bag is in front of the pile) and one for Giovanna (show the shoe in a bag in front of her pile). (Matt’s pile is larger since he had more gear that didn’t get blown up) Remember the different angle thing. Savage has one speech balloon.
SAVAGE: I’m here, Mickey. Hold on. The secure line’s ringing.
PANEL 2
POV Close up shot of the SECURE phone on the desk. Show lower corner of monitor in upper left of frame. One of the lights on the phone panel is lit. Savage’s hand is reaching for it, forefinger extended.
NO DIALOG
PANEL 3
POV FACING Head shot of Savage, phone to his ear. Savage has one balloon and voice has one jagged balloon
SAVAGE: Savage. This is a secure line.
VOICE: Do you know who this is?
PANEL 4 Savage has two linked balloons, and VOICE has one jagged balloon between Savage’s.
POV HEAD SHOT, BUT FACING US FORWARD
SAVAGE: Yes, sir.
VOICE: And you know why I’m calling?
SAVAGE (linked speech balloon): Yes, sir.
PAGE 4 Three panels, one half page across top and two quarter pages below.
PANEL 1
POV SILHOUETTE OF A MAN FACING US, SITTING AT A DESK WITH DESK-TYPE STUFF IN FOREGROUND. HIS FACE IS IN STARK SHADOW, COVERING HIS FACE AND NECK. YOU CAN SEE THAT HE IS HOLDING A PHONE. CAN”T SEE ANY FACIAL DETAILS EXCEPT A TIE AND SUIT JACKET. HE’S THE VOICE, with one speech balloon.
VOICE: Savage, get your team out of there. I’ve called in the cleanup crew. Nobody’s there when they show up. Understood? You have 10 minutes.
PANEL 2
POV SAME AS PAGE 3, PANEL 3 Savage has one balloon
SAVAGE: Understood, sir.
PANEL 3
POV SAME AS PANEL 1. VOICE has one balloon and Savage has one jagged balloon.
VOICE: Oh, and Savage, too bad about your man.
SAVAGE (JAGGED SPEECH BALLOON): Thank you, sir.
PAGE 5
PANEL 1 POV Close up shot of the SECURE phone on the desk. Show lower corner of monitor in upper left of frame. One of the lights on the phone panel is lit. Savage’s hand is replacing handset, hovering over the phone handset cradle
NO DIALOG
P
SAVAGE: Mickey, you’ve got 10 minutes to get as much evidence as you can and clear out.
MICKEY: Roger that. (Jagged balloon)
SAVAGE: Savage.
MAJOR JOHNSON: (Jagged bubble from phone): Chief? Sorry to hear about Swanson. Have your men clear out with what they’ve got. We’ve gotta keep a tight lid on this. Nobody speaks to anyone. Got it?
SAVAGE: Yes, sir.
PAGE 4
PANEL 1
POV Mickey is standing next to the two piles of bags holding a clipboard, writing on it. The piles are larger now.
SAVAGE (Jagged bubble coming from Mickey’s earpiece): Mickey? Time to go. Bring everything to Hanger 205. I’ll meet you there.
MICKEY: Got it, Chief. You okay? I know how tight you and Matt are, or were.
PANEL 2
POV Same as panel 3 except no phone, just Savage’s headset.
SAVAGE: Yeah. Fact is, he was EOD. We all know what that means.
MICKEY (jagged bubble from Savage’s headset): Yeah, you never know…
PANEL
POV Street shot of outside the consulate, bird’s eye view, from 20 feet high at an angle. No indication of what just happened except for a small blast hole about the size of the blast shield and a stain on the sidewalk. A small car, an old, beat up Fiat, is careening towards the blast site. Show screeching tires. There’s a transport vehicle parked next to the curb a few feet away. Two men are holding a body, one holding the shoulders and the other the lower legs, arms dangling to show that it’s a dead guy, and another is standing in front of a white cooler. There’s a red cross on the sides of the cooler.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 12
POV The car screeches up, jumping the curb, tires off the ground, to right over the spot where Matt and Giovanna were. Show skid marks behind it. The guys with the body are walking towards the car and the other guy is carrying the cooler.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 13
POV From left rear of car. Driver of the car gets out as the guys with the body are now next to the car. Cooler guy is behind the car.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 14
POV Side shot of the car from about 10 feet, and the two guys load the body behind the wheel. The cooler guy has set it down, the top is open, and he is holding a large plastic bag of blood in each hand.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 15
POV Through the driver’s window of the car. The dead guy is in the front seat, his hands on the steering wheel. Packed around him are bladders of blood and the back seat is full of explosives (boxes with caution signs on them and wires sticking out of them)
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 16
POV Long shot (100 feet) and car is exploding. Transport vehicle is gone and explosion has blown down the fence and the gate by the sidewalk. You get to show a car exploding, neat, huh? Hopefully, the reader is thinking, “What the hell is that about?”…
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 17 ½ page
POV Hangar 205, interior. Huge open space with tape lines on the floor, marking off areas where piles of ZipLoc evidence bags and other debris are neatly stacked on long folding tables. Show the same stuff as in panel 6. Savage is surveying the scene with Mickey at his side. Mickey’s holding a clipboard and handing it to Savage.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 18
POV Savage is looking at clipboard
SAVAGE: This is everything you could collect?
MICKEY: Yeah, Chief. There wasn’t much left and we had to leave in a hurry.
PANEL 19
POV Savage looking up at Mickey
SAVAGE: I don’t like it either but they were sending in a cleanup crew and I couldn’t have you guys on site when they got there.
MICKEY: I understand.
PANEL 20
POV Front shot of Mickey
MICKEY: Chief, the boys and I would like to get together to remember Matt.
PANEL 21
POV Front shot of Savage
SAVAGE: I think a team building exercise at my place is in order. Make sure everything is squared away here and we’ll meet up in an hour or so.
PANEL 22
POV same as panel 20
MICKEY: We’ll be there, Chief.
PANEL 23
Not sure how to transition to the next panel. Show Savage driving his car home or have the car waiting outside the gate to his villa as the gate slides open? Or just go right into his living room. On the coffee table is a tray of cold cuts and rolls, bags of chips and cheese, in the center, etc. and a bar with bottles of San Pellegrino, Fanta, and glasses arranged on it in the background. The team is all seated or standing around, engaged in solemn conversation about what a great guy Matt was and what a shame, etc., etc. Show one of those atomic clocks on the wall with big numbers showing 3:30 AM
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 24
POV ¾ shot of Savage, standing with his glass raised.
SAVAGE: To Matt Swanson. I’m a better man for having known him, as are we all. You will be missed, my friend.
PANEL 25
POV Same angle, except now the team has raised glasses.
TEAM: To Matt!
PANEL 26
POV Savage’s living room. Clock now at 4:45 and the team is up and walking towards the door. Savage is holding it open. Coffee table is covered with bottles of San Pellegrino, and Fanta and other non-alcoholic beverages, glasses and party detritus (half opened bags of chips and maybe a tray of cold cuts and rolls and cheese, mostly empty, in the center, etc.) Can actually make this a couple of panels to emphasize the sadness of the team at their loss. A couple of toasts, that sort of thing. Or not.
NO DIALOGUE
PANEL 27
POV Savage leaning with his back up against the door. The room is empty and he looks very sad.
SAVAGE: (thought bubble) Oh, Matt, what could I have done to prevent this?
TWO
The primer charge went off, instantly killing Matt and the girl. Even if he were onsite, there was nothing Savage could have done.
The logical conclusion was that the timer went off or the charge was remotely detonated before Matt could disarm it. It didn’t really matter any more. Both kids were dead and Savage was wracked with guilt, even though the tragic event was out of his hands.
The reality was, it could happen to any EOD guy. It’s what their nightmares are about. The risk is all part of the job. Many of them do it for the rush of cheating Death every time they go out. But sometimes Death won’t be cheated.
On several occasions Savage had been there to save Matt’s life, and other times Matt had saved his, but he wasn’t there this time. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he felt responsible.
Always after an op, Savage and his boys would go back and blow off some steam at Savage’s villa northwest of Sorrento. They called it a “team building exercise”, especially when they lost a member of the team. A cloud of solemnity hung over them as they sat around swapping stories and sharing memories of Matt and some even managed a few weak smiles as they shared their favorite anecdotes.
It was near dawn when the last man left and Savage fell into a fitful sleep at about four-thirty, only to be rousted out of bed at six a.m. by the telephone.
“Savage,” he said into the receiver, his voice clouded by sleep.
“Chief? This is Captain Armstrong. Colonel Harding requests that you report to him this morning at seven.”
“Yes sir,” he said, shaking the cobwebs from his consciousness. “I’ll be there.”
He hung up and dragged himself into the shower.
He arrived in the outer office of Colonel Richard Harding, the installation commander and Savage’s direct superior.
“Go right in, Chief,” Captain Armstrong said without looking up from his desk. He wanted to express his condolences about what happened but felt that he would be rubbing salt into a fresh wound so he chose to say nothing.
“Thank you, sir,” Savage said as he passed Armstrong’s desk.
Harding’s door was closed. Savage stopped in front of it for a moment to compose himself.
He rapped once on the door.
“Enter!” came the brusque reply from the inner office.
Savage took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he twisted the door handle and entered.
He noticed that the two chairs that normally were set at angles to each other across from Harding’s desk were gone. They had been replaced by a lone chair, placed six feet away from the front and center of Harding’s desk. This was not to be a social visit. The positioning of the chair said that this was to be a military interrogation.
Savage wasn’t feeling very sharp and squared away when he snapped to attention in front of Harding’s desk at 6:59 with a sharp salute and a curt, “Sergeant Savage reporting as ordered, sir!”
“Sit down, Savage,” Colonel Richard Harding said from behind his huge cherry wood desk. Harding was the base commander and as such, responsible for everything that happened with respect to the U.S. military under his command.
“You want some coffee?” he asked. The tone of his voice was strictly business.
Savage sat at attention in the lone chair across from the colonel’s desk. “No, thank you, sir,” he replied smartly.
“Relax, Drake. We need to talk,” the colonel began.
“I understand, sir.” Savage knew what was coming. The report that Harding was about to reference was the hardest document he had ever filed, especially at three in the morning after the tragedy that took the life of someone he had grown so fond of.
Harding was angry and it flashed in his eyes.
“Your report on the fiasco that went down last night. As you know, the Italian government wants someone to answer for that girl’s death.
“What the hell were you thinking, allowing Swanson to go in without the bomb suit?”
“Sir, as it states in my report, there wasn’t time and in my opinion, the situation warranted the breach of regulations.”
“All right, I’m willing to overlook that for now, but you and I both know Swanson cut the wrong wire. It’s obvious to me that it was a mistake, yet there’s nothing in your report that says so, and you want to give him the Medal of Honor? Why?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Savage was a Chief Master Sergeant and had achieved as much rank as possible in the enlisted ranks as an E-9. He had five years more experience than the colonel and at age 43, was a year older, but Harding was an O-6 and military protocol dictated that an enlisted person always deferred to an officer, even if he were a wet-behind-the-ears, Second Lieutenant, an O-1, when in uniform. Though an O-1 would rarely question a Chief, if he was smart.
Since they were in uniform and Savage had been summoned to report to the colonel, all protocols had to be followed. Had they been on the golf course or at the club together out of uniform, as was often the case, they would have been on a first name basis. Permission to speak freely took them off the record.
“Of course, Drake.”
Savage rose from the chair and walked up to the desk. He leaned across the desk on his hands, a foot away from Harding.
“Rich, I don’t believe it was a mistake. Matt Swanson was not at fault. I think he is–was–the best EOD guy in the business, with more citations for bravery and excellence than almost anyone I know. He died in the commission of his duty. I’m pushing for the MoH. If we say he made a mistake, he won’t get it. I can’t let that happen. The only conclusion that I can come up with was that there was a timer, and thank God he managed to disable the vest before it blew.
“I’m afraid we will never know the truth, though,” Savage said.
Harding held up a DVD.
“This is a copy of the events as they happened,” he said, sliding the DVD into the computer on his desk. He used the mouse to activate the video display on the monitor. The screen came to life and showed a split screen display of each of the monitors that Savage had seen last night. Harding clicked the mouse again and the displays froze.
“Swanson’s reputation is not the issue here,” Harding said. “Hell, I recommended him for some of those citations. The fact is, somebody is going to get hung out to dry on this. If it’s not Swanson, as the OPCOM, it’ll be you.”
“So be it. I’m responsible. I was the one in charge.”
“Drake, be reasonable. The kid is dead already and you throwing yourself on this sword isn’t going to bring him back.”
“Rich, can I show you something?”
Harding slid his chair away from his desk and Savage walked around behind it and took control of the computer. He sped up the recording to the point just before Matt had tried to cut the wires.
“Now watch this, and listen carefully,” Savage said.
He pressed a key and the static display came to life and Savage’s voice came from the speakers.
““Matt, if you don’t think you can do it, leave it alone. The majority of the bomb has been disabled. We can make her comfortable and bring in somebody else. She’s relatively safe now,” Savage cautioned.
“Aw shucks, Chief, and leave this pretty little girl wired to explode? I couldn’t do that. There’s nothing to it. It’s a matter of pride, y’know? Looks like I just gotta cut this—“.
Savage held up his finger.
“There! Did you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Harding said, confused.
“The click of the dykes that he used to cut the wire with. Did you hear it?”
“I don’t know. Play it again.”
Savage rewound and played the scene again, grimacing when the one screen went blank and the others showed the explosion.
“Now, listen,” Savage turned up the volume on the speakers connected to the computer.
Again the scene repeated on the monitor.
Just before Matt spoke, Savage said, “Now listen for the click of the wire cutters.”
The scene played out and Savage asked, “Did you hear it?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Harding admitted.
“Exactly!” Savage exclaimed. “You didn’t hear it because he never got the chance to cut the wire. The thing went off before he could disarm it!”
Harding looked thoughtful.
“You might be right, Drake, but it still looks like he cut the wrong wire, and the Italians are going to want someone’s head for this.”
“We can’t let them have Matt’s,” Savage said.
“Look, Matt died bravely and I can’t, in good conscience, let his death go unrewarded. How would I ever sleep at night?”
“We both know what they are going to say happened. He was nervous because she was a diplomat’s daughter and he choked,” Harding insisted.
“I don’t think so. He didn’t seem that nervous to me. I didn’t hear it in his voice. Matt Swanson’s been part of my team for five years, Rich. His voice monitor showed normal right up until he went for the battery wire. In fact, I don’t think he ever had a chance to cut that wire.
“I believe he knew what he was doing and the primer charge was triggered by the timer or somebody set it off remotely. He said it was a poorly rigged device. It might have even gone off prematurely.
“Imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t first disabled the main charge. Instead of a big hole in front of the gate, we would have lost the whole building. For that, he is a hero.
“It was an accident. It wasn’t Matt Swanson’s fault. I want him to get the Medal of Honor. He deserves it. His memory will not be tainted on my watch!”
Savage felt his emotions rise and he realized he had balled up his fists. Harding noticed, too.
“Look, Drake, somebody is going down for this and I don’t want it to be you, Harding pleaded. “You’ve had a long and distinguished career. I heard you tell him to leave it alone. He was being insubordinate.”
“Sir, with all due respect,” Savage said, regaining control and switching back to military protocol to make his point, “neither of us was there and we can’t decide that he screwed up. Everything was going fine until the bomb went off. I could hear it in his voice. He was not nervous or hesitant. He also said that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. I never heard the click of the snips as he cut the wire. That’s what I want the record to state.
“If the Italians need someone to blame, use me. Give me an Article 15. Take one of my stripes. Force me to retire. I have enough time in.”
The colonel thought for a moment, weighing all the factors. This was going to be a political hornet’s nest unless he could find a scapegoat to give to the Italian authorities. The Office of Special Investigations, or OSI, and the Black Ops boys had already started the cover up, so a long, drawn out, thorough, public investigation was going to be out of the question.
Savage was literally offering his own neck to the chopping block and Harding had to decide whether or not to drop the axe. One of the rights and responsibilities of a high level position in the military such as a base commander is the ability to perform both field promotions and demotions in the form of an Article 15, non judicial punishment. Savage’s offer would be the perfect way out of this mess.
Harding didn’t want Savage to be drummed out of the military, given his spotless record, but he knew and respected Savage well enough to accede to his wishes. He made his decision.
“All right, Chief. If that’s the way you want it. Effective immediately, you are out-processing for retirement. I hate to do it, but I’m going to have to take a stripe.
“I hope it’s enough to satisfy that girl’s father,” Harding added.
“So do I,” Savage said but he knew it would be. One of the less glamorous aspects of being a diplomat was knowing that something might happen to a loved one, which is why they were so well guarded around the clock. A covert investigation would reveal exactly what happened to the girl’s security people, but he also knew that he would probably never know the truth, not being privy to such information any longer.
The official story for the media was that a suicide car bomb blew up on the steps of the embassy. The cleanup crew, whose job it was to rewrite history and cover up what actually happened, hosed down the site, brought in a car, loaded with explosives and a cadaver behind the wheel. Then they blew it up at the front gate right after Savage’s crew left, and swore everyone to secrecy. An hour later, it was all over the major wire services and television.
The world’s televisions all carried the same story, “A new terrorist group, Crimson Jihad, is claiming responsibility for the suicide bombing of our embassy in retaliation for the American air bases and military presence in the Middle East. Fortunately, due to the late hour of the attack, there were no casualties.”
“Crimson Jihad, eh?” Savage thought to himself. “Probably an Army Captain who’s an Arab translator. And why, with all the modern technology and advances in audio in the world, does it sound like it was recorded in a bathroom somewhere?”
He wasn’t wrong by much. The voice of Crimson Jihad was actually an Arab speaking U.S. Army lieutenant, recorded on a cheap cassette recorder his mouth too close to the microphone in a bathroom stall. The tape was sent to the embassy and released to the media. The attack would be viewed as another skirmish in the war on terrorism.
Nothing was ever reported about the abduction of Giovanna Francelli. Neither government wanted anybody getting ideas about kidnapping the daughters of other diplomats. Only a handful of people knew what had actually occurred. The tragic death of the young girl and the brave young man who tried to save her was a story that would forever be shrouded in secrecy.
Savage was fed up anyway.
“23 years in the military, 18 of it in black ops, I’ve lost enough close friends, and have had enough killing and death and subterfuge about cover stories that covered up what really happened,” he thought with bitterness in his heart.
As ordered, he put in his papers to retire. Harding taking one of his stripes meant he would retire as a Senior Master Sergeant, although he would still receive the full retirement pay of a Chief and it would still say “CMSGT / E9” in the “PAY GRADE” field on his blue retired ID card.
Someone else would have to watch over his boys now. They all came over to his place for a somber farewell gathering and each man let him know that they respected and understood why Savage had done what he did. They toasted Matt Swanson one last time as a team.
Savage knew he’d miss the life and the comradery that exists nowhere else but the military, but it was time to move on.
Though unprecedented, Colonel Harding granted Savage’s final request to take Matt’s Medal of Honor to Albuquerque and give his condolences to Matt’s brother, Luke Swanson, personally.
Savage was to complete his final out-processing at Dover Air Force Base, Delaware, and a few days later, his military career would be a memory. He had about twenty thousand dollars in a 401K, and his future was, for the first time in a very long time, uncertain.
Rex Danger: P.I.
013 years
Meet Rex Danger
Our hero, Rex used to be a Detective Sergeant on the city police force. He was on the fast track to make Detective Lieutenant, missed passing the test by one lousy point, but that went awry when $5,000 in drug evidence money came up missing with his pawprints all over it. He was forced to resign in shame—either that or go to jail. Now he’s a private eye, and still on the lookout for whoever it was that framed him. He doesn’t have a very good relationship with law enforcement and tries to keep his head down and stay out of trouble, but trouble has a way of finding him anyway. The only friend he’s got on the force is his old pal Shep MacDougal, Mac, to his friends . Mac and Rex have known each other since they were pups and went to the police academy together, finished in the top one percent of their class. Now Mac is top dog at the precinct as a Captain, but he and Rex are still close.
THE CASE AGAINST REX DANGER
SCOTTY DUKE SPIKE
MAC LUCKY
POV See the dogs playing poker painting. Mac and Scotty, a Scottish Terrier, Duke, a Labrador Retriever, Lucky, a Collie, and Spike, a Doberman, are sitting around a poker table.
MAC
I keep telling you, he didn’t do it.
DUKE
Oh, here we go.
SCOTTY
Yeah, that’s what you’ve been sayin’ all along, Mac, but the fact is it was his name and signature on the sign out sheet, and his snout on the video.
DUKE
Did everybody ante up the kitty?
SCOTTY
If he didn’t take the five G’s, then who did?
MAC
“I don’t know, but I’m telling you it wasn’t him. We’ve been pals since we were pups.
MAC
It must have been somebody else. They never did get a good shot of his face.”
SCOTTY
“So you think it was somebody else on the video? Somebody else wearing the same trench coat, with his markings, and the same stupid hat?”
MAC
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Anybody could get a hat like that, and the coat, too.”
MAC
Whoever it was kept their face out of the camera range and had the hat pulled down to cover his snout. That’s pretty suspicious, you ask me.
MAC
Rex Danger was framed for taking that five thousand dollars out of the evidence room. He wouldn’t throw away his career for a lousy five G’s. The guy was on the fast track to make Lieutenant.
MAC
He only missed the test by one point. It ought to be him wearing this lieutenant bar, not me. He had too much going on risk his badge for something so stupid.”
DUKE
“Look, you guys gonna play cards or sit around going over ancient history? You gonna call, or what, Scotty?”
SCOTTY
Yeah, don’t get your tail in a twist, Duke. I call.
SCOTTY
“Look, Mac, all I know is what the Internal Affairs inquest found out and your pal got caught with his paw in the cookie jar. End of story.
SCOTTY
You ask me, he should have been thrown in jail, not just kicked off the force. We got a word for dogs that steal—dirty. Rex Danger is a dirty dog and that’s that.”
SPIKE
“Y’know, just once I’d like to sit down to a nice game of cards and not have to prove the guilt or innocence of Rex Danger.
SPIKE
Me, I liked the mutt, but Internal Affairs did the investigation, and they found him dirty.
SPIKE
Bottom line, neither of us was there and all we got to go on is what he says and the evidence against him. I.A. says he’s dirty, I gotta go with the pack.
LUCKY
“Yeah, Mac, you might wanna be careful about what you say. Rumor is the big brass is gonna start sniffin’ around you, too. Just sayin’, you might wanna muzzle yourself when it comes to this.
LUCKY
Danger wouldn’t want you to risk your career, stickin’ up for him. I like the mutt, too, but you don’t see me risking my 20 years on the force, chasin’ after a car I ain’t never gonna catch, y’know?
MAC
Bring ‘em on. My record’s clean.
LUCKY
Yeah, so was Rex Danger’s.
Joss Whedon v Warren Ellis, 2-16-2006
0What follows needs no introduction. Here’s one anyway: Mr. Ellis wrote a rant about San Diego Comic Con which caused Mr. Whedon to take umbrage…
Nerd Prom indeed!
The Long March To Nerd Prom Begins
February 16th, 2006 | comics talk
Every hotel room in southern California was booked within eighteen femtoseconds of the San Diego Comics Convention reservations webpage being uploaded. That’s it, people. If you didn’t get your booking confirmed within eighteeen femtoseconds of the starting pistol, you’re screwed. Because there are one hundred thousand hungry people out there who need to attend San Diego Comics Convention in order to walk right past all that comics shit and go straight to sniffing Brandon Routh’s cricketbox, sending bits of themselves to the cast of SERENITY and masturbating ferociously in the men’s stalls while wearing V FOR VENDETTA masks and discounted Hulk Hands.
No, of course I’m not going.
Nerd Prom: It Begins Now. Never forget.
[TAGS]nerdprom, nerd+prom, sdcc, comicon[/TAGS]
73 Responses to “The Long March To Nerd Prom Begins”
Egads is it that scary there?
I keep debating going this year, and getting an art space in the artshow. Or if it would be worth it.
I’ve been wanting to go every year for the past 15 or so years, but something always prevents.
I saw the pix from last year in your Flikr acount..
Damn atleast at DCon the costumes apear much better.
Is the guy in the above photo an artist there?!?
- JimmyTheHutt- February 15th, 2006 at 11:06 pm
And people wonder I went once, and will NEVER go back…
I was working a table at the 2002 Con. Our table was right near the local Star Wars fanboy table, and one of the wannabe jedi was consistently oggling one of the girls there with me. When I left to go get some coffee from the Starbucks, he made is pass.
It went something like this:
“Can I take your picture? Your hair is….pretty.”
Thr girl in question promptly left and refused to go back.
I’m bringing my woman to NY Comic con in two weeks. She’s been to proper SF cons, like Worldcons and the book-centric Readercon, but never a full blown comic convention. She asked “Is there a big difference?”
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 12:39 am
Who is this Ellis guy anyway? He thinks he all that cuz he wroted “Planety”. The facts is, KomiKon is AWESOME becuz people dress up like stuff — but nobody dresses like Warner Ellis, I guess, mister sour grapes. I talked to Sumner Glou and she said nobody ever mailed her body parts except for one time an arm and then a messenger brought her a thyroid gland but big deal, SERENDIPITY fans happen to be the most tastefullest fans who have extra or redundant body parts.
The best thing about Comicvention is the girls are pretty and the younglings are pretty (is that a legal issue?) and the men is pretty when they are Jedi but not so much Sith. I like to meet the Comedy Books artists (Not everyone wants to meet Angelina Michelle Watts, you know) and to buy a picture of an elf or dragon already. So stay off this grumpity webcamsite becuz Warner Ellis is just a grouchypants! I met a real General Griefuss, who amongst you can say that?
Peace, dog.
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 12:44 am
Altho that hulk hands thing was me. Sorry. Romulan Ale.
..see, that could actually BE Joss…
Or possibly Steven E McDonald.
Nope, turns out that was Joss. I mention this to settle down the dozens of people clicking here from Whedonesque.
There will, of course, be revenge.
Do you smell that? It’s fanboy, son. Nothing else on the world smells like that.
[…] Found in the comments section of this post and later copped-to in email: Who is this Ellis guy anyway? He thinks he all that cuz he wroted “Planety”. The facts is, KomiKon is AWESOME becuz people dress up like stuff — but nobody dresses like Warner Ellis, I guess, mister sour grapes. I talked to Sumner Glou and she said nobody ever mailed her body parts except for one time an arm and then a messenger brought her a thyroid gland but big deal, SERENDIPITY fans happen to be the most tastefullest fans who have extra or redundant body parts. […]
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 5:31 pm
Revenge, eh? So, mister Ellis — (swishes brandy in large glass) — let the games begin, unless they are games of skill, or physical exertion of any kind, or with math. I know the bitter bitter truth, why you are so threatened by my genius, my, class, my big glass of brandy. It’s because you’re so OLD, so terribly terribly OLD, isn’t it! Mountains were hills when you were middle-aged. I hear you left your wife for a younger, trophy Cromagnon. And that you’re… that a young person would find you strange, and… from many years of… you being… DAMN! This round to you, Ellis. But the game is far –(drains Brandy, gasps like beached whale) — from over.
Well, after killing network television he’s moved on to killing the internet. Which will hopefully be just as entertaining.
I am twenty years younger than Joss Whedon.
Also, HE cannot hide things in his beard.
…of course, he can pay people to do that for him now. He can even pay people to grow the beard for him. And he doesn’t have to run his own website to look big and clever on the internets.
Ah, shit.
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 6:07 pm
All right, Ellis, I am a couple of decades older than you. Touche. But you don’t know all of it. Jeph Loebi-Wan never told you the truth about your father…
Yes. You’re my youngling. Oh for chrissake, everybody knows it but you! Even my beard-growers speak of it freely! Now join me and together we can rule an infintisinimimmsally tiny portion of the galaxy and have a mildly amusing interweb flame war! If you only knew the power of the Hack Side! Join me. Seriously. I’ll cut off your other hand, you pansy.
Boys, boys… don’t fight! I have an idea! DO join up, and write some comics TOGETHER. Deliciously twisted plots and characters, touching moments of hilarity… it.. would… be… og… crap. Fangasm. Now I have to change.
Every time you say “youngling”, I throw up in my mouth a little bit. And look around to see if John Munch from SVU is in the room.
Look, everybody. Joss and Warren are avoiding writing.
I always suspiciousized that Warren Ellis was the bastard offspring of the Joss….
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 6:39 pm
Are you kidding? This is the most writing I’ve done in months.
(Warner Brothers execs don’t come here, do they?)
- Chilli815- February 16th, 2006 at 6:55 pm
Okay – this is a geek out moment!
- Shpedoinkle- February 16th, 2006 at 7:00 pm
Holy Procrastination! I love it! Hey Joss, as long as you’re slackin’, come over to Whedonesque – we need more – uh – you!
- Chilli815- February 16th, 2006 at 7:03 pm
No Joss. Stay here. Independant comedy.
Plus Whedoneqsue kinda scares me, what with the black and all. I’m not a Firefly, I need colour and sound!
- EdDantes- February 16th, 2006 at 7:04 pm
Yep…..fans everywhere are having mindgasms in front of their computers… Oops, there goes another one.
Sounds like everything would be swell if they just ‘fessed up their feelings for one another and asked each other out to the Nerd Prom already. Won’t anybody think of the children??
- Kessie- February 16th, 2006 at 7:05 pm
Warner Brothers execs? Did I miss something? *sits and waits for the show to continue*
- Andrew Rackstraw- February 16th, 2006 at 7:09 pm
Despite being about three times my age (ha!,) Joss Whedon sounds (in interwebspeak) pretty much exactly like me.
Lucky, lucky Joss.
Good god, man. Why would Warner Bros execs want to be anywhere near me? Back when we were doing GLOBAL FREQUENCY I used to hear them slip the condom over the phone before they even spoke to me.
I’m going to start a rumour that you’re attending San Diego dressed as Wonder Woman.
And that they will know you by your beard.
- Shpedoinkle- February 16th, 2006 at 7:21 pm
… of the “full and manly” kind?
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 7:26 pm
Okay, can nobody type any more words that end in ‘gasm’? I makes me feel not so good.
The truth is, Ellis is just afraid to say what this is REALLY about. Cassaday. Right, Ellis? He’s drawing Planety AND Admonishing X-mens (now with 17% more Wolverine!) and you hate me for it. You’ve always been jealous — you started your book just to steal him from me — which was idiotic since I didn’t meet him till several years after! Ha! Seriously, Warner, we’re tearing little Johnny apart. Let’s bury the hatchet. Come to the Con with me. Yes, you can dress like Puffy YumiAmi or whatever that thing is you have that outfit of. We’ll have a blast. I’m buyin’ the lead-based food that you have to wait four hours in line for and then rips out of your stomach like you’re John Hurt, and I’ll even buy you a comic. Plus I hear Brandon Routh might be there! He’s dreamy.
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 7:29 pm
Wow, we both went right to the cross-dressing humor! This is just like the Algonquin round table, except there’s only two of us, and no table, and no particular surfeit of wit, and no great certainty about how spell ‘Algonquin’. Huzzah!
I am in the same message thread as both Warren Ellis AND Joss Whedon. I am vicariously famous. Twice.
Is it my birthday? ‘cos I feel like I’m getting a gift that doesn’t end in ‘gasm’ (as far as you know.)
Teehee, I’m naughty.
When Cassaday masturbates at night in that cell under Joe Quesada’s house HE STILL SAYS
MY NAME NOT YOURS MINE MINE MINE
cough.
Astronomical X-Cash is a very popular book, and I like that Johnny has enough money now for things like hair products and food.
And it’s a Sailor Moon suit, you bastard. Because I hear Brandon Routh is into that. And possibly Nathan Fillion.
The last time I was at San Diego, I saw a porn star being bitched out by a midget pimp. Who was not a pimp of midgets, but a midget who was also a pimp.
Your tv show FIREFOX should have had midget pimps in it.
Is that a guy from The CW I see over there?
yeah. the web needs more bickering from stars. This is clearly more amusing then anything Gawker could put out. go Joss go!
I tell you, we should be putting the word “wit” in inverted commas, before the EFF come after us for intarwub fraud or something…
- David Pyke- February 16th, 2006 at 7:37 pm
Hmmm… Ellis and Whedon both going into cross-dressing “cosplay” and both having beards.
I knew it! They’re both the same person with a penchant for young girls and Anime! Thus begins the revolution! WarJossEliDon for emperor!
Let’s not bad mouth the EFF…. 😛
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 7:40 pm
“Anglosaxon X-tracrispy” happens to be ART, you slug, unlike “Globular Frequenting”.
But the Cassaday thing is true. Joe says it’s freaking his kids out.
The sex tapes that will come out of this cross-dressing, nerd-prom attending date will be worth approximately eleventy billion.
Ze goggles do nozhing!
I dunno why Joe doesn’t just put the cock-gag back in young Cassaday’s mouth. It muffles the
noise, and I think he got to quite like it.
And it’s all he deserves for flouncing off with some poncy Hollywood type to go and draw Anaesthetic X-Wipes.
I should have given him more barely-contained breasts and large shiny Russian gay porn stars to draw.
Oh, God.
I’m so alone.
Hold me.
Man, this is just ten different kinds off geek-borne happiness right here. Two of my favorite comic-mkaer-people trading teh funnay right in front of me. Thank God for strep.
Is ‘inverted commas’ some freaky UK way of saying quotation marks? Joss, teach this man how to write American!
Twenty bucks says they’re both chatting on the same computer in Batman and Spiderman underoos.
GET BACK TO WORK!
*Lights cuban cigar with 100$ dollar bill*
- Princess of Darkness- February 16th, 2006 at 7:53 pm
Now that sounds like fun.
@henry: ebay would break down *g*
Yes, sir Mr. Joe Q. *goes back to licking Joe Q.’s shoes clean*
Who is illustrating this script? Maybe Jeffrey Rowland or Bryan Lee O’Malley?
I think I’ve just stumbled upon a bizarre alternate Universe where cross dressing midget pimps are handing out prom dates for free for the nerd contingency.
My query is, if J.W or W.E. dress up as their favorite female style avengers will there be photographic evidence and where will the opium den of pulchritude be as I sure as hell want to see this in person.
- Joss Whedon- February 16th, 2006 at 7:59 pm
Well, this has been educational. But it’s hard to type while I’m holding Warren. So on to greater things. Lunch things. May the Federation be with you, or something. Nerds.
Move your hand, Joss. Yes.
If you loved me, you’d hold me THERE.
Time for a cigarette. Take it easy, people.
So long Joss, and thanks for all the fish!
I knew reach-arounds will be happening!!!
- Stefan Hayden » Blog Archive » Joss Whedon vs Warren Ellis in funny comment flame war — Graphic Artist, Technophile, Web Librarian, Embarrassingly cute spelling mistakes.– February 16th, 2006 at 8:48 pm
[…] This is only internet history for the few. if you love Joss Whedon, Warren Ellis, FireFly, or just comics in general you have to read this comment war between Joss and Warren. It has to be one of the most exciting things I’ve seen unfold before me I have ever witnessed. […]
[…] And a little scary. Watch Warren Ellis and Joss Whedon go back and forth in WarrenEllis.com’s comment section. […]
[…] If you want to see read Joss Whedon and Warren Ellis playing mind games you should go here. Start your reading with the fourth comment. I didn’t manage to read the whole thing for I was in danger of falling of my chair. […]
[…] Warren insults Comic con geeks. Joss replies. Who will win? I’m torn. On the one hand, Transmet. On the other hand, Buffy. Spider, Spike. Difficult, this is. I have to go with Warren Ellis. He’s got the cane. No Comments so far Leave a comment Line and paragraph breaks automatic, e-mail address never displayed, HTML allowed: <a href=”” title=””> <abbr title=””> <acronym title=””> <b> <blockquote cite=””> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong> […]
- Crooked Timber » » You can’t spell ‘Algonquin’ without the ‘Whedoneqsue’– February 17th, 2006 at 3:48 am
[…] Normally I do my comicsblogging at J&B. But this is just too important. (Tip to Farber, who also provides an executive summary, which unaccountably omits discounted Hulk Hands in the bathroom stall.) posted on Thursday, February 16th, 2006 at 10:45 pm Post a comment […]
- [Stumblings in the dark] » Joss & Warren, together again for the first time– February 17th, 2006 at 4:42 am
[…] It’s the best thing Warren Ellis has done in ages! […]
[…] For those of you who were wondering what procratinating comics writers get up to. Hint: It’s not watching Diagnosis: Murder… […]
- Just another Aussie in Scotland » Joss & Warren Ellis in interwebnet flameout– February 17th, 2006 at 10:40 am
[…] http://www.warrenellis.com/?p=1848 […]
- Baggage Carousel 4 » Blog Archive » X-mens (now with 17% more Wolverine)– February 17th, 2006 at 12:32 pm
[…] jacob directed me to the comment thread of this post on warrenellis.com. it’s a good thing i’ve already had breakfast; i would’ve snarfed my milk. Explore posts in the same categories: absurd, random […]
[…] I have no idea who Warren Ellis is… yet another reflection of my essential lack of adequate nerddom, no doubt… but it’s fun to read him go head to head with Joss Whedon in the comments section of this post. […]
[…] My buddy Richard sent me this link to a tongue in cheek flame war between two very funny creative types: Joss Whedon and Warren Ellis. […]
- Shane Neville | Media Pusher and Addict – Wicked Awesome Boogaloo » Geek Off– February 17th, 2006 at 9:25 pm
[…] Geek Off By Shane Neville Joss Wheddon has dropped the gauntlet in a geek off against Warren Ellis. The resulting mayhem is a true match-up of geek-fu. This entry is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site. Leave a Reply […]
[…] Warren Ellis and Joss Whedon Provide Fan Service, Oh My Yes They Do If you don’t know who both those people are, then I’m geekier than you. (Curtsy: Crooked Timber). […]
[…] Visit Warren Ellis […]
- Zona Negativa » SN: Wikkipedia, Gail Simone, Byrne, Gail Simone again y ¿Rich Johnston? + Ellis vs. Wheddon.– February 23rd, 2006 at 2:06 pm
[…] Warren Ellis, comentaba la pasada Comic-Con de San Francisco y los atuendos que llevaba la gente, (de verdad, espantosos algunos) en su Blog, y en estas que aparece Josh Wheddon, y empieza a criticar, con muchÃsima sorna y gracia al británico. Diversos foreros también se suman a este debate y de el rescataremos algunas de las coñas mas memorables. […]
[…] Not that, well, anybody but me would get this, let alone care, but I found it so hysterically funny, I had to post it… Joss Whedon (Geek God) and Warren Ellis (also a Geek God, and writer of some absolutely fantabulous comics) get into a flame-war on Warren’s blog. Wow. I’m still chortling. Tags […]
Joss Whedon v Warren Ellis
Warren Ellis has come choice complaints about the San Diego Comics Convention. Joss Whedon replies in the comments (via average-bear). For example: Who is this Ellis guy anyway? He thinks he all that cuz he wroted “Planety”. The facts is,…
[…] Warren Ellis: The Long March to Nerd Prom […]
[…] Warren Ellis, to Joss Whedon: “Your tv show FIREFOX should have had midget pimps in it.” It’s actually for real. *points* […]
Whedon vs. Warren
Not that, well, anybody but me would get this, let alone care, but I found it so hysterically funny, I had to post it… Joss Whedon (Geek God) and Warren Ellis (also a Geek God, and writer of some absolutely fantabulous comics) get into a flame-wa…
[…] Warren Ellis and Joss Whedon got into a bit of a *** fight in a thread on Warren’s forums. Comment 17 is cracking…. […]
[…] This is fantastic: two of my favorite writers are having a verbal battle of wits over on Warren Ellis’ blog. […]
[…] Warren writes about some bollocks (didn’t even bother to read his actual post). Go straight to comments section where there’s a seriously funny exchange between him and Joss Whedon. Tagged: Internet Feed for this Entry […]
Up for Adoption: Attitudes on Technology Integration
014 years
By Dominique Jones
Listen to Audio Version (~14 minutes)
So many clients ask questions about adopting a new technical tool—a new type of computer such as an iMac, a handheld device such as a smart phone, a new type of software, using Facebook and Twitter in their marketing strategies, or a new application service such as Smashwords to publish their ebook. The answer is, inevitably, it depends.
What does it depend upon?
The technical environment, the person’s abilities, the uncertainty of the person’s computing situation, and the complexity of the technology. Somehow, though, that list feels like business- and techno- babble.
Deferred Decisions about Adopting New Technologies
It’s a lot like a situation I find myself processing in life around installing a ceiling fan in my dining area. I have been circling a solution to upgrade the ugly gold-colored pendant that sits directly in your line of sight as you enter our home. The main problem is that it clashes with everything else in our house. For years I have gone through a hemming-and-hawing process.
I have heard that changing a light fixture is simple. I have a loop in my mind that is always looking for the ultimate ceiling fan/light fixture that will blend into our southwestern architecture. I find something that costs at least $500, ponder, and dismiss it as too extravagant. After having fixed our water filter through research and experimentation, I also started researching how to hook up a light fixture on my own. I read a few sections in a book while standing at Home Depot. I watched home shows in frame-by-frame motion to grok the process of hooking up light wires in the ceiling. Of course, I searched online and watched YouTube videos. I even considered taking an adult education course on electrical maintenance. And I ended up getting a $15 replacement pendant cover to hook somewhat recklessly onto the bottom of the existing chain.
I am simply not comfortable changing and upgrading the light fixture at the wire level, no matter how much I read. And this story has been unfolding for five years.
That is a long time to suffer a line of sight I would like to improve. I think some of my clients suffer technology woes with the same non-starter experience. They have the spirit to move forward, and they know they would like something different, improved, more modern. They just feel inadequate to handle the whole thing, and they don’t even know which parts they should do themselves vs. which parts to contract. A feeling of discomfort leads to deferring the change that could help them appreciate technology more.
Personal Design for Technical Literacy
Like home design, there are so many choices in too many places when it comes to adopting a new hardware or software tool. There is a whole industry with its own language and standards that can serve as a barrier to action for someone who doesn’t know the right words to use to explain what they would like. The sheer number of choices and lack of simplicity conspire in a situation fraught with entropy. While commercials and emergent social mores send the message that technology is passing us by, the truth is that many people are passing technology by because they are presented with too much to absorb.
We are in times of change, like the early 20th century when electricity was not yet stable. Rural areas did not all have electricity at that time; just as rural areas do not all have Internet access at present. Electricity was run as a for-profit business and unregulated for decades. It was a young industry, and, similarly, we are still in the first 50 years of the widespread propagation of computing and networking.
Because the Web and the new communication abilities have brought such a dramatic change to our lives, in many cases easing burdens and making life easier, we focused on innovation after innovation. And businesses have a stake in prompting us to buy the latest generation of items. However, there is another aspect to creation that has not yet been experienced and embraced in the technology world: appreciation.
Multiple Approaches to Learning New Tech Skills
Instead of experiencing the joy of all our new capabilities as time progresses, we appear to be stuck, like a record skipping on a turn-table, in a cycle of innovate-improve-innovate-improve-innovate when it comes to interacting with technology. It feels like a techno junkie yearning for the latest gadget, or it sounds like someone throwing up their arms entirely and saying “I am just not technical!” It looks like the delusion that if you do not understand technology you are not “smart.” Or it looks like the delusion that all our students have access to the Web and to the tools they need to “compete in the 21st century.”
Instead of training our future generations to compete with technological skills, why not view tech as one more in a set of tools we can use to personalize our life experience in new and fascinating ways? After all, the technical tools we use are like other tools we use to build our environments, and we don’t require everyone to become an electrician in order to enjoy better lighting.
Or, we can view the technology we pick up and use as a game that is not so serious. Or, my personal favorite approach, we can view our interactions with technology as an art that we use while living our lives—a creative way to express ourselves as we paint the story of our lives onto the canvas of time.
Positive Technology Adoption
Whatever our circumstances in the technical world, we can consciously choose to enjoy our next steps. Positive psychologists who study happiness, such as David G. Meyers, are helping us define new definitions of human progress, and I think this applies to human technical progress as well. Meyers’ research showed, in his article “Who Is Happy?” that “wealth is like health: its absence can breed misery, yet having it is no guarantee of happiness.” I would extend this concept about happiness to our interactions with technology as well.
Being cut off from modern technologies can be limiting and painful as you try to navigate the online world, but after you have acquired a fairly small set of technical skills, you will have enough to get around. It’s like visiting a foreign country and learning enough to order in a restaurant. As you spend more time in the country, you will naturally learn more of the language. However, requiring yourself to learn limitlessly can set you up for feeling pressure. If you are suffering in any kind of technical project, know that the problem-solving and meeting the project timeline are a lot less important than witnessing your enjoyment in learning and creating new abilities. You have the power to choose your level of engagement, and you may find a happy truth that when they are made easier, you do enjoy things like video conference with your friends and family, recording your own audio podcasts, sending text messages or email on a smart phone while you are traveling, and other creative projects.
The freedom to choose is the greatest freedom I know so far, and we deserve enjoyment as much (or more) than we deserve innovation. Technology’s rise has brought with it a speed that is akin to desperation and technical innovators are tangled in a trellis of dark capitalism/competitiveness that has swept our culture for a few decades. Possibilities, however, have emerged alongside the greed and addiction. We can choose from profound communication capabilities and powerful automation capacities.
As it stands, however, there are trade-offs for implementing powerful technologies. It takes considerable capital and a hefty investment in learning new details. Even choosing an option to try is a process of details, details, and more details. It’s a delusion to think we can buy a new smart phone and immediately use all of its features without studying them and trying them out in several ways. We will not merely flip a switch and be able to navigate the virtual world.
You and Technology, Hand-in-Hand
One of the secrets to choosing technologies that work for you is to pace yourself. Choose only as much as you need. If you study and learn fewer things, you will have more time to enjoy your knowledge about the things you already have. Similarly, if organizations keep their automation projects more humble and realistic in scope, rather than reaching to be on the edge of innovation and to customize extensively, they can enjoy the improvements in their operations more.
The decision about how much to learn and imbibe of the new virtual landscape is very personal and we all can feel good about our level of interest. A good decision can come from the place where you feel genuinely curious about something, and free from pressure. If you start asking a lot of questions about a technical subject and you feel joy while you are asking (instead of dread, fear, frustration, or some other barrier), that is a clue that it would be a nice thing to explore learning to do yourself.
If you do not want to learn something, but want a system set up for you that is a great option, too. For example, I would not want the electrician I hire to change my light fixture to explain everything they are doing in detail so that after they leave I can change my own light fixture the next time. I would rather just hire them twice.
Hiring a person with expertise can help you work with a new technology a lot faster than working on your own. It is the solution to making a major change if you don’t feel comfortable as a DIY techie. If you want to interact with technology, the proper support can help you more naturally evolve in your relationship to the digital elements available in the world. An evolution peppered with support can enhance your life in our communication age. My opinion is that everyone who seems to be a “techie” has had considerable help along the way.
Unfinished
Humans have not yet found the best ways to express themselves through machines and networks. This is not to deny the transformational waves of improvement that have come about through what, in distant ages, would be called magical and miraculous communication methods. It is simply to acknowledge that we are in an age of technological chaos and that humans find more enjoyment and beauty in simplicity.
Technology is in the process of being created—it is not yet finished. Just like a gift, half of the joy is in its being received. When technology can find simplicity, we can add appreciation to innovation, and its creation will be complete. In the mean time, although not as easy as a light switch, you have lots of options and you can decide the level of engagement you would prefer in the virtual world without worry about whether you have the “right” setup.
–end–
Denver Comic Fest 2011 – Review of a Springtime Comics Festival
014 years
Chuck attended the 2011 Denver Comic Fest as a comic writer and as president of 7000 BC. As in previous years, it was TONS of fun and the Denver folks made him feel so welcome and happy.
Visit Denver Comic Fest Web site to learn more and plan for next year.
We give this comic festival 4 out of 5 LEs.
Links to Goodbyes, a Savage Investigations Comic for String, Published by 7000 BC
014 years
Goodbyes
Written by Chuck Larntz
Illustrated by Nathan Hendricksen
Matt Swanson is saying his goodbyes at his farewell dinner with the members of his crack Special Forces team, led by Chief Master Sergeant Drake Savage. The end of Matt’s enlistment in the Air Force as a bomb disposal tech is only days away. Savage, Matt’s close friend and mentor, is raising a toast to Matt’s new life when the call comes for the team’s services. The Italian Finance Minister’s daughter has been kidnapped and she’s standing at the gate of the American Embassy in Naples, Italy, harnessed with a bomb containing enough C-4 to blow up the embassy and the surrounding area. Matt’s final job on active duty will be to disarm the bomb and save the girl, one last time…
For more on Savage Investigations, Chuck’s novel and now comic series, stay tuned to our Web site updates!
Listed below are the links to the Savage Investigations Comic titled “Goodbyes” (Part 1) for String, Published by 7000 BC, for Free Comic Book Day coming up in May, 2011!
View Online Movie at this link:
JPG Files (right-click and choose Save As):
Photoshop Files (right-click and choose Save As)
PDF Document (horribly large for printing, right click and save)
Albuquerque Comic Expo at the Convention Center In June, 2011
014 years
The event of the year as far as comic and sequential art in New Mexico is the Albuquerque Comic Expo (ACE) on June 24, June 25, and June 26 at the Albuquerque Convention Center. On Saturday, ACE announced the secret guest of honor will be… Stan Lee!
This is shaping up to be spectacular!
Chuck and his daughter, Katie, are going to serve as the volunteer coordinators for the convention. We had coffee with Greg Derrick and his one-and-only last night, and they are working so hard to bring a Seattle-caliber quality to our beloved southwest. (If you have never been to Emerald City Comic Con, aka ECCC, check it out sometime.) New Mexicans and visitors from all over should get their travel arrangements made, and show their support by purchasing their convention passes now.
If you get your convention pass before March 31, you get the deepest discount plus a special edition gift! Check out the ACE Web site for more. abqcomicexpo.com
Savage Investigations: Prologue
014 years
by admin
in Savage Investigations
Here it is, kids! As promised on twitter, the rewrite (okay, the re-re-rewrite). I’ve also been thinking about the wisdom of getting so darned excited, I just kinda go off and post things prematurely. I’m gonna work on that, but I’m still gonna get excited! Deal with it…
New! Improved! Now with more dialogue and less expostion! It’ll be easier to make it into a comic that way…
June 15, 2003
It began on a normal day like any other. Ahmed Akbar was a brilliant young man, going off to the school where he was the youngest teacher on staff. He slung the worn messenger bag that contained his lunch and the test results from his students over his shoulder. He kissed his wife, Sanaa, on the cheek and their infant son, Raheem, on the top of his head and went to the front door of their modest two room house on the outskirts of the Iraqi city of Al-Awja.
The door wouldn’t open.
Since the bombings and the American invasion, the door frame had shifted.
Too proud to leave his house by the back door, it had been the same comical story every morning for months now because Ahmed felt it was, “too insignificant a thing to bother with.”
“Ahmed, I swear, you must fix that door,” Sanaa laughed. “It embarrasses me to have to tell our friends to go around back to enter our house.”
“Sanaa, my love, we are lucky to even have a door after what has happened around here,” he reminded her but then added, “I will fix it on our next day of rest. I promise.”
She looked down at the infant in her arms. “Do you hear that, Raheem? Your father will fix the door on Friday. He promised. We will see.”
Ahmed pushed up hard on the latch and to the left and the door opened. “See? I told you I could open the door,” he smiled. “Friday,” he promised and left the house, slamming the door behind him to close it. It shook the china on the shelves and the baby started to cry.
Later that morning, a squad of American contract soldiers were patrolling the neighborhood. This had become a common sight and there didn’t seem to be any cause for alarm.
They came to Ahmed’s house.
Sanaa was sitting in her chair and reading with Raheem asleep in her lap.
The soldiers knocked on the door with their rifle butts and Raheem woke up crying. Sanaa got up to answer the door but she couldn’t open it.
The soldiers, hearing the baby crying on the other side, knocked louder and demanded that it be opened.
Sanaa tried to open the door again but couldn’t with Raheem in her arms.
“I can’t get it open. Please go around to the back!” she cried in her native tongue, which the Americans could not understand.
“You hear that? Sounds like a baby’s crying,” said the squad leader. “We got reports of insurgents in the area and it looks like somebody doesn’t want us to come in. Kick down the door!”
Two men kicked in the door on its hinges, knocking Sanaa backwards. Raheem fell out of her arms and she struck her head on the corner of a table, killing her instantly. Raheem’s neck was broken in the fall and Ahmed Akbar’s little family lay lifeless on the floor.
“Now what?” exclaimed one of the American contractors.
“Well, she seems to be the only one home. No terrorist insurgents here,” said the squad leader. “Let’s get the hell outta here!”
“Yeah,” said one of the men, “the corporation’s not payin’ me enough to get involved in a murder investigation, even if was an accident!”
Rather than trying to offer assistance, they left Sanaa and Raheem on the floor where they lay and ran.
A few blocks away, the leader said, “Okay, that never happened. Am I clear?”
The rest of the squad agreed and nothing more was said or done about it.
After school, Ahmed came home and, seeing the door open, ran inside and discovered that life as he knew it was over. He screamed as he sat on the floor in the pool of his wife’s blood, holding his lifeless family in his arms until the neighbors came.
“Murdered at the hands of the American infidels!” he said quietly at the funeral. “I hate the Western dogs that brought war to my peaceful world. I will strike back!” he hissed between his teeth.
After he said his final goodbyes to his little family, his wife’s uncle approached him.
“I know of a man who can help you to avenge the death of my brother’s daughter and grandson. If you wish, I can have him contact you. Not now, but when your head and your heart are clearer.”
Ahmed looked at the man through enraged eyes and said, “Please. I cannot let this travesty go unpunished.”
A few days later he was visited by a man from a secret organization that was so secret, it had no name, nor seemingly any members that knew about each other. He recruited Ahmed to join the fight, and told him he would be able to get his revenge against the capitalist mongrels that were ruining the world with their vile arrogance, spreading hatred wherever they went. The mild mannered schoolteacher was transformed into a terrible angel whose only mission was to avenge the death of his family.
His handler, known to him only as Kadin, met with him at his house and told Ahmed of their plan for him.
“Right now, there is a young American that we are grooming for a position in the American government. He will start out as a junior banking executive. In a short time, he will get involved in local politics. From there, with our influence, he will become mayor of his city and then governor of his state. From there, he might become a Senator, a Congressman, or even President of the United States,” Kadin told him.
“But what has that do with me?” Ahmed asked. He was becoming a bit perturbed. “How does this American fairy tale have anything to do with me?”
Kadin smiled. “Because, my young friend, that young man I just spoke of?”
“Yes,” Ahmed’s impatience was growing.
Kadin clapped his hands together and exclaimed with delight, “That young man will be you!”
Ahmed’s mouth dropped open. “What? How?”
“We know you are the same blood type, and you possess the correct bone structure and body type. You wear the same size clothing, and even your shoe size is the same as the American. That is why we chose you for this mission. The physical changes you will undertake will be only to your eyes and minor facial features, along with a slight modification to your voice box so you will have his voice.”
Kadin took a photo, an 8 X 10, full face head shot of the American from a folder. He handed it to Ahmed.
“Do you see how alike you already are?”
Ahmed looked at the photo. He did look a great deal like the person in the photo.
Kadin pulled out another photo. It was of Ahmed.
“Put them side by side, my young friend.”
Ahmed held one picture in each hand and brought them together.
“The similarity is astounding. We could be brothers!” he exclaimed.
“Do you see? Now imagine all those things I told you about, happening to you. Can you now see your place in our jihad, impatient one?”
“I think so,” said Ahmed, still a bit dazed at the concept. “Tell me more, Kadin.”
“Once the operations are concluded, and while you are recovering, we will teach you to speak flawless English with intense speech therapy. Your body will be trained to move the way the American does and you will learn all of his mannerisms and other physical traits that make the American unique.
“When your transformation is complete, you will fool even the most sophisticated facial recognition systems. You will become the American.
“The American has no idea that right now he is being monitored and videotaped, even as he sleeps, so that you will be able to study his every movement and facial expression until, with the help of our team of experts, you, Ahmed, will be able to walk and talk and move through the world exactly like him.
“You will replace the American.”
“But how can you just replace a person?”
Kadin placed his hand on Ahmed’s shoulder and said, “It will be easier than you think. The less you know, the better, until the time comes. We have done this before, many times. Do not worry yourself, my young friend.”
Ahmed thought about this.
“And when the time is right, you and others like you will strike a powerful blow to cripple the infidel American machine from the inside. We cannot fail!”
“When do we begin?” Ahmed asked.
“Would right now be too soon?”
“Oh,” Ahmed was taken aback. This was all so sudden. “No, right now would be fine. Can I just be alone for a few moments to say goodbye to the memories of my family?”
“Of course. I will wait for you in the car. Take your time. Come out when you have made your peace and are ready to begin your glorious journey. Bring nothing with you. We will provide everything you need,” Kadin said, and he slipped out the back door.
Ahmed went into the bedroom and picked up Sanaa and Raheem’s pillows and held them to his face. He breathed in the scent of his family one last time. He took his favorite family picture from its frame, folded it, and put it in his wallet.
He heard Kadin start up the car and pull it around front.
He struggled with the front door for the final time and stood in the doorway to his little house, angry tears in his eyes as he remembered the joy and laughter that had once filled this home. Walking out for the last time, he slammed the door.
He heard the sound of breaking china as he stalked away to begin his new life.
So what do you think?
Anyone?
(the sound of crickets, wind blowing…)