[T_Casey_Brennan]

I didn't but, was disappointed when seeing AC use artists I knew I could do better than.

Bill Black had some great ideas, but overall, he's a jerk.  Here's the first Dave Sim aardvark story, precursor to Cerebus; click on the lower right hand corner of each, to enlarge.  I begged Jim Warren to publish it.  He refused.

http://www.jazzbastards.org/artofdavesim/A-Boy-and-His-Aardvark-1.jpg

http://www.jazzbastards.org/artofdavesim/A-Boy-and-His-Aardvark-2.jpg

http://www.jazzbastards.org/artofdavesim/A-Boy-and-His-Aardvark-3.jpg

http://www.jazzbastards.org/artofdavesim/A-Boy-and-His-Aardvark-4.jpg

http://www.jazzbastards.org/artofdavesim/A-Boy-and-His-Aardvark-5.jpg

Don't take it too hard.  — T. Casey Brennan

[T_Casey_Brennan]

The X-Zone interview is no longer up; but fans can still listen to an interview with me online by going to THIS site…

http://www.annarboralive.com/A3Radio/Hydro/scripts.html

Best,

T. Casey Brennan

[T_Casey_Brennan]

"Black Fog" (text story w/spot illos by Gray Morrow)
by T. Casey Brennan from Red Circle Sorcery #6, April
1974.  Copyright 1974 by Red Circle Productions, Inc.
Reprinted in  Archie's Super Hero Special #1, January
1979, wherein my character, Hal Thunder appeared in
the same comic with such legendary characters as the
Black Hood, The Fly, The Jaguar, The Shield, and
Sabrina the Teen-Age Witch!  I wrote this story after
extensive research into the 1940s MLJ writing style —
I would welcome fan attention – and fan fiction – to
Hal Thunder, who appeared,so far, in only this one
story!  Fan fiction with my character meeting the MLJ
greats who inspired his creation would be particularly
welcome.

——————————————————

Slowly the black fog closed in, destroying his
awareness, and then…

There was no doubt in Hal Thunder's mind that the
scream had come from Linda's room.  He quickened his
pace, leaping up the stairs three and four steps at a
time.  His heart beat faster now, pumping adrenalin
into his powerful body.

But he felt no fear.

With one violent motion, he kicked open the door to
Linda's apartment.  Linda was on the floor gasping,
her clothes torn.  But still alive, thank God, he
thought.

"The window!  Don't let him escape!"  Her voice was
hysterical.

Swiftly, but with great caution, Thunder stepped out
the still-open window and onto the narrow ledge.

Then he saw the other man some three feet away.  He
realized that for the first time he was face to face
with the masked arch-criminal whom he had sought so
long – the Strangler.

In an instant, Thunder evaluated the situation.  If
they locked horns on this window ledge fifteen stories
above the city, surely one of them would die, if not
both.  On the other hand, if he allowed the Strangler
to escape, his next attempt on Linda's life might be
successful.  He could not take that chance.  He moved
toward the masked man.

The Strangler fought desperately, seeming to prefer
death on the sidewalk below to capture by Hal Thunder.
Summoning all his resources, Thunder fought to keep
his balance under the force of his own blows, and the
flailing fists of the masked man.

Like a madman, the Strangler moved in, grabbing
Thunder by the throat.  The movement threw them both
off balance.  Thunder's efforts to tear the powerful
fingers loose were in vain, and they toppled together
off the ledge.

In a split-second, the Strangler realized what he had
done, and released his grip in mid-air.  Free of the
strangle-hold, Thunder's lightning reflexes took
effect, and he grabbed the ledge with both hands as he
fell.  The shock might have broken the arms of a
lesser man, but Thunder's body had long been
conditioned for such things.

He dangled above the city fifteen stories, and then…

Then a strange thought hit him.

It hit him seemingly for the first time: Who am I,
really?  What am I doing here?  What is happening?

It had suddenly become clear that the incident that
had just taken place had a dream-like quality.  And he
had felt no fear.

There seemed to be a mist forming before him.  Then
the black fog closed in.

The black fog was lifting now.  Just before it did, he
realized painfully that he would have no recollection
of it.

Linda was especially beautiful today.  Thunder
observed, eating his lunch.  Perhaps it was because he
was so grateful that she was still alive.

He felt her admiring eyes on him as he spoke.

"It looks as though this case hasn't been solved yet,"
he said.

Linda stared, wide-eyed.

"But the Strangler is dead now, isn't he?" she asked.

There was fear in her voice, Thunder noted.
Understandably so, he thought, after her ordeal
yesterday.

Thunder continued, "One Strangler is dead, yes!  But
these crimes now appear to be the work of an organized
gang!"

He lit his pipe, arranged his thoughts carefully, then
spoke again.

"You see, when this crime wave first hit the city, it
appeared to be the work of a lone madman – a
Jack-the-Ripper type.  The victims were all women, and
all brutally murdered.

"But there were too many flaws to the 'madman' angle.
For one thing, all the victims were well-to-do.  They
were always stripped of their valuables.  These crimes
were very carefully planned out."

"You mean the killer tried to make the murders look
like crimes of passion, when robbery was the real
motive?!" Linda said.

"Exactly," Thunder replied, "that way, the police
would be looking for a psychopath instead of a cunning
band of ruthless killers!"

Linda's face grew sad.

"So now you won't get the reward money you were
counting on," she said.

"Not YET!"  Thunder corrected, "But I'm going to crack
this case!"

He swore inwardly that he would get back at the
Stranglers for their attack on Linda.  He knew it had
been meant as a warning to him.

And when he did catch them, it would mean a five
thousand dollar reward.  With that much money, he
could make his private detective agency really amount
to something, and more importantly, build a future for
himself and Linda.

He watched Linda intently, then he noticed the mist
forming all around.  It became a deep black fog, and
at first he didn't understand – then, he remembered.

The black fog cleared away rapidly, clearing with it
all memory of what had happened.

He was in Linda's apartment now, holding her in his
arms.

"Linda," he breathed, "I don't know what I would have
done if something had happened to you!"

Her voice was a soft whisper.  "How do you think I
felt with you out on that ledge with that monster?!
Oh, darling!"

Her voice continued, but he was no longer listening.
He suddenly remembered that something else had
happened on that ledge: What?  Then he remembered –
the questions.  The feeling that something strange was
happening.

He began to panic.  Perhaps he could turn to Linda, he
thought.  He started to speak, but before he did, he
had the strange feeling that he was doing something
very, very wrong.

"Linda," he said, in an almost begging tone, "There's
something strange happening here!  I don't understand
this!  There's something wrong…"

He turned his face directly towards hers, expecting
comfort.  He was wrong.  The warmth was gone from her
face.  The admiration in her eyes for Hal Thunder was
gone.  She wore a look of shocked anger.

"What's the matter with you?" she screamed, "Are you
actually trying to ruin it for yourself?!"

The black fog closed in immediately.

Hal Thunder spoke with authority, as he smoothed the
check between his palms.  Close beside him, her hand
on his arm, was Linda.  And in front of him, seated at
the desk, was his old friend, Commissioner Jensen.

"…so you see," Thunder said, "It was a relatively
simple job to outwit the killers!"

"You've done a fine job, Hal," Linda purred, her eyes
aglow, "And to think I almost lost you on that ledge!"

THE LEDGE!  The words stuck in his mind.  Then he
remembered.  The questions.  The black fog.  First he
glanced around the room, wild-eyed.  When he spoke,
his voice was hysterical.

"What's going on here?  My name isn't Hal!  What are
we doing?!"

Commissioner Jensen was standing now, shouting.  Linda
was crying.  The black fog closed in now, and as it
did, he felt someone removing something from behind
his right ear.

Someone said, "He's ruined another scene!"

When he woke again, it was with the full realization
of what had been happening.  The director had his hand
on his shoulder.  Johnny Doran, formerly Hal Thunder,
hung his head.

The director spoke.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," he said, "We can't use you in the
show!  You just ruined two scenes.  I don't think you
can ever cope with twenty-first century acting
methods!"

Johnny swallowed.  He had expected this.  Curse the
psycho-acting devices, he thought.  He had been a star
when acting had been an art, not a superscientific
trick.

But now, in modern Hollywood, nearly anyone could
become an actor.  That is, anyone without great
sensitivity, those who might have genuine acting
talent, in other words.  It was merely a process of
erasing all true memories, so that an actor could
truly live his part.  The mind usually recorded this
erasing with a visual hallucination of black fog.

And Johnny Doran's mind could not tolerate that black
fog.  He felt the director's eyes on him.  So harshly,
that he wanted to protest that these innovations had
not advanced art – they had killed it.  But he knew it
would be of no use.

He nodded, and turned to walk away.  But before he
reached the door, the girl who played Linda, Janice,
caught up with him and touched his arm.  He turned
around.

"Art is still alive somewhere, Johnny," she said, "Go
find it!  And when you do – "

She paused.

"When you do, come back for me!  Because I want to
find it too!"

Then she was gone, hurrying back to the set.

                  The End

For T. Casey Brennan adventures in the Wold Newton
Universe, check this URL…

http://www.angelfire.com/zine2/warrenverse/MK_Ultra.html

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