Daily Archives March 12, 2014


Having ensconced himself into his lodgings, Simon retrieved a copy of the Post and settled into a large, chair with a slightly contented sigh. But no sooner had he made himself comfortable than a knock came at his door. Lifting himself from the seated position with a sigh, Simon opened the door to reveal a delivery boy.

“Telegram for Mr. Templar,” he said predictably.

Simon identified himself as the recipient and tipped the lad generously before shooing him away. Closing the door, he examined the communique. It was from an old acquaintance of his who had made a fair sum of money chronicling the occasional tale of The Saint’s exploits.

Business advisor Charles Hillarram fleeced clients stop. Lives in Pierre Hotel stop. Up your alley stop. L.C.

A smile curled the corner of the Saint’...

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The sewer was dark, almost pitch. The only signs of light shown dimly through vents in the occasional manhole cover above. There in the darkness Forest Durke stood stiff as a tree, paralyzed with fear. He felt every muscle in his body tighten with every dank drip that echoed around him. He held his breath, half afraid that he was so loud the whole world could hear it and half straining to hear.

“Forest Durke…”

The voice echoed off of every wall. Duke spun erratically, his eyes straining to see through the blackness. Almost knee deep in the watery filth, it splashed all around him. A squat revolver shook in his hand. “I’m sorry!” He pleaded with the voice in the darkness. “I didn’t know! I swear!”

“You’re a liar, Durke,” the voice said, nearly on top of him, “and a traitor.”

“I said...

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The Plaza is one of the finest hotels in all of New York City. A hotel which exercises a certain amount of discretion over the guests they admit to their august accommodations. Simon Templar, strolling nonchalantly to the front desk of the Plaza hotel, was well aware of this.

As he signed the register Simon Templar, the desk clerk’s forehead creased in worry as he looked up. “Simon Templar?” he asked. “Are you, by any chance, The Saint?”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched upward imperceptibly. As a man used to the best hotels, he was used to this sort of thing. With a nod, he confirmed the clerk’s suspicions. “I have been known by that name, yes.”

The clerk’s spine straightened, and he spoke with the utmost courtesy. “I am sorry, Mr...

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Journal entry – November 11th, 1939

Tonight, after weeks of false leads and dead-ends, things finally took a turn for the better. I’d been on the tail of a low-level numbers runner by the name of Nicky “Thumbs” Marangioni. Thumbs wasn’t the most dexterous kid, he started out working as a mechanic in his uncle’s garage, but it got to the point where he was breaking more cars than he fixed, often hearing from his uncle that he was all thumbs. The name just stuck. He was good at keeping things straight though, so his uncle put him to work in the office. Unfortunately for Nicky, the garage wasn’t his uncle’s only business. Nicky’s Uncle Dom – Dominic Moretti – was a minor lieutenant in the Farino crime family, and a name that features prominently in several past journal entries.

The ...

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The night was cold, the air biting into his lungs as the masked man made his way up the fire escape to the penthouse.

Seeing his prey’s shadow fall across the window, the Green Hornet burst into the room in an explosion of glass, catching the hood off guard.

The thug took a boxing stance and threw a series of punches at the Green Hornet, catching him in the shoulder and jaw.

The Hornet staggered back, then lunged forward, pummeling the man with a flurry of blows before spinning and catching him in the throat with a fast chop.

“All right Roscoe, where’s Falcone?” he asked.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothing punk! You’re not so tough without your sidekick.” the man said as he pulled a gun from his coat pocket.

“I won’t ask again. Where is Falcone?” The masked man asked in a low growl.

“Get l...

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The speeding box car began to fill with crimson smoke. The waa door waa shouted a thin but commanding voice. When they waa come through waa plug ’em”. The man, oddly fat for someone of his short stature, and dressed in a foppish tuxedo, held a black enamel statue of a bird close to him. On the ground were two bodies. The first was a very large man in a white suit and the second was a mouse of a man with a terrified look on his face and bug eyes. They were both dead, and the object of their desires, the black statuette that had filled their lives with a relentless chase for fortune was now in the possesion of the man called The Penguin; Oswald Cobblepot.

Three thick-chested goons in cheap suits raised their Beretta 1938A instruments of death at the door...

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It was midnight. The moon was full and the sky clear. Somewhere in the distance a dog was barking.

Even at this late hour there was activity on the streets below. The hooker at the corner. Her pimp in the car across the street. Further up the block a man was vomiting in the alleyway across from the bus stop.

Hell’s Kitchen. Selina Kyle knew this place like the back of her hand.

By this point she was almost home when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

She might have missed it all together if she hadn’t spent so many hours up her on this roof during the hot summer months.

As she turned to face her foe, a length of rope suddenly lept out of the shadows and caught her securely around around the wrist.

“Batman!” she hissed, tugging against the lasso in an effort to g...

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The Secret Circle – Night’s Black Agents 1.2

Joan was making Jay his first home-cooked meal in a week. He’d been looking forward to her cooking since she made the offer two days ago. A man as who sees the world at high speed tends to have little patience when he’s anticipating something. The fact that these bozos were making him late wasn’t exactly improving his mood.

Jimmie Dane didn’t know Jay was the Flash. Still, though, they were friends, so it was only natural for the silver miner to tell his buddy when bars of precious metal began to turn up missing. Add to that Jay’s interest in the recent appearance of 1936 silver Peace Dollars all over Keystone City, a coin that the Government stopped minting in 1935, and it led to one conclusion: counterfeiters.

Jay saw the connection, and figured that one of Dane’s co-workers must be ...

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The Secret Circle – Night’s Black Agents 1.1

IT began, as always, with a terrible Dream.

Ia-ai laaa ia.

There stood alone in a vast, glassy sea a great city, an island in colossal desolation, dark, cyclopean spires of glass and steel rising to disappear into a grayish haze. Below the pall, a great horde of people cavorted, packed and pressed so tightly as to resemble a singular squirming and undulating organism, mewling in a sickening chorus that echoed to the distant horizons.

Ia-ai laaa ia.

Parts of the constructs crumbled, ill constructed pieces falling away into the crowd. But with each collapse the swarm surged, lapping against the spires, pushing them up out of the very earth to rise higher and higher.

Ia-ai laaa ia.

At once, the pall fell away and the spires resolved into the massive limbs of grotesque giants...

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