WARNING: INTENSE

Out of the Ashes, Part 11 (Conclusion)

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Out of the Ashes, Part 11 (Conclusion)

Out of the Ashes
by Misty Meenor
A Comic RetCon Universe Story
The Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian characters are the property of DC Comics.

I interrupted her. "Never mind that. The chips. I want them." I needed at least one sample, and I couldn't trust anyone else to destroy the remainder.

She frowned at me. "Now hold on one moment, Miss..."

I sighed, and silently cursed my new form for the thousandth time. Intimidation wasn't in my arsenal anymore, unless you were six years old. If I couldn't intimidate, I had to demonstrate, and that took time and people got hurt. My hand snapped out and grabbed the woman's throat, lifiting her off the ground. "Chips!"

Her hands clutched at her hand on my throat for a few moments, before she pointed frantically back towards the hallway. "Office. Safe." she choked out.

WARNING: I don't want to give anything away, but if there were elements in the previous chapters that disturbed you, please do not continue reading. Elements of this chapter will be dark. I've rated this chapter Adult and Intense.

Out of the Ashes, Part 10

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Out of the Ashes, Part 10

Out of the Ashes
by Misty Meenor
A Comic RetCon Universe Story
The Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian characters are the property of DC Comics.

I headed towards the bar but didn't get far before there was a touch on my arm. "Um, hey gorgeous, how's about getting us a drink?" The line sounded over-rehearsed and rushed, more of a plea than a confident request. I pasted on a smile and turned to face a short man with a middle-aged spare tire and a ruddy complexion, thin hair pasted across his bald head. He was standing alone, so 'us' must have meant, well, us. His eyes were fixated on my breasts. I kicked myself for spending so much time working on my face; in this crowd, I could have had slitted pupils, sharpened teeth and a snake for a tongue, and only the other women would notice.

Out of the Ashes, Part 9

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Out of the Ashes, Part 9

Out of the Ashes
by Misty Meenor
A Comic RetCon Universe Story
The Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian characters are the property of DC Comics.

"We were hoping to work out an arrangement where we might occasionally call upon your skills, in a consulting role. We'd benefit from your experience on the street and your impressive metahuman abilities, and in return, you'd get to call upon our resources -- intel, financial, manpower, equipment. The ability to run interference with the law. Plus, of course, we'll pay you. An annual retainer, paid immediately, plus a fee for each job, half in advance."

This is much too sweet a deal. I shook my head slowly, sliding the badge back to her. "I'm sorry. It sounds very interesting, but I've got other things on my mind at the moment. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, we could talk again." I got the feeling Merrick was sincere, but I didn't trust the motives of the people behind her. I stood up, ending the discussion.

"Wait. Before you decide, you should hear what the first two jobs are."

The Abattoir

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It was about a week before my 13th birthday. Having come home from work unexpectedly, the Ogre---who was what passed for a masculine role model in my life---had decided to take one final stab at "making a man out of me" before writing me off forever as a hopeless little bitch...

"What the hell you cryin' for? You're a boy, nothing's gonna change that! What's that you're coverin' with your hand, huh? You think putting on a damn dress changes anything? Do you? Answer me, goddamn it!"

I stood there shivering, feeling horribly vulnerable. By now I didn't know what I was or what could change what. I was sobbing, trying to nod my head yes and shake it no at the same time.

"For God's sake Sam, that's enough! Let him get dressed."

"No, I want him to say it first! What are you?"

"I'm a boy," I blubbered.

"That's a start. Now put some damn trousers on and come with me."

In a drizzle of slushy snow I was marched across the yard to the shed, where I was forced to take part in a grotesque and humiliating ritual of destruction. This was the heart of darkness...

The Abattoir
(a Jackie Kaiser story)
by Laika Pupkino

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