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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist Premium Member Maurice A. Dixon Jr.24/Male/United States Groups :icona-world-to-ocs: A-World-To-OCs
 
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Maddy O'Hare by ralphbear
Maddy O'Hare
Mad Rabbit Cosplaying as Bucky O'Hare!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJgWXx…

Or Y'know that one green bunny that fought against Star Fox on "Death Battle"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IRhhIV…

Mad Rabbit Created By :iconralphbear: (me)

Bucky O'Hare are owned by Larry Hama, Michael Golden, and Hasbro
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(Contains: strong language)
James.  As in, James Jordan. And The Spectre. You could say they’re different people. I know that he says that. But I know better. I know because I know both of them. They’re only different in looks. It’s the same boy under that mask. He’ll always be James to me.

I suppose if I’m speaking so highly of this guy that I should probably explain how it came to be that way. Otherwise it just sounds like I’m spouting some sort of psycho-babble. That might be a lost cause in itself, though. By the time I’m done explaining how James and I met, you’ll probably be thinking about how crazy I must have been…well, still am. I guess you can say we met unconventionally and we maintain our friendship in a less than ‘normal’ way as well.

The best way to explain this is probably to start from how we even came to be within a few feet of each other. I’m not the kind of girl to just find randoms and bond with them. I never really had time to. My family, the Trents, had assisted the US in the Gulf War, and we were rather famous for it. It managed to get the family a rather lucrative income, but despite that we still moved a lot. I think we moved ever since I was born. Memphis was the first city that we settled in long enough for me to actually care about anything extensively. It wasn’t long before I started carving out those sweet straight A’s for myself at school. I even managed to hook myself as the science club president. I don’t really mean to brag, but I’m a bit of a science whizz, so it’s probably a bit of a given that I got it. But I didn’t think people actually liked me that much. My personality can come off a bit coarse…I guess, maybe? Despite me holding that rather prestigious position, I still wasn’t managing to make any proper friends. That’s where James comes in, though.

Now we’re getting onto the unconventional part, that is, how we actually met. I can’t remember exactly what I was doing, but I do know that I was walking home from somewhere. Some twat got me alone in an alleyway, and started demanding my money, my phone…in short, I was being mugged. Of course I wasn’t going to just give them to him…who the hell does that? That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the adrenaline making my heart pound. You always play yourself as a badass in the ‘what if’ scenarios with your friends, but you learn the hard way that’s not how it plays out in real life. I certainly didn’t think I was done for, but I was pretty damn scared. That’s when the cloaked crusader stepped in. I won’t lie, I thought it was a Batman wannabe. But when I brought it up, he vehemently denied that, and instead called himself ‘The Spectre’.

I won’t go into too many details, to preserve his dignity, but long story short, he messed up, but it turned out alright in the end. I was indeed grateful for his attempt, but I was damn curious about who it was behind those oversized shades. For someone who was meant to be badass, he didn’t do very well to try and stop me. That’s when I saw his face. It was dark skin, like chocolate, but it was smooth and rather baby-faced, so I guess he can’t have been older than sixteen. I’d seen him a few times around school, passed him in the hallway, given him a nod and a ‘hi!’, nothing too much. But this…this made me see him in a whole new light. Naturally I demanded to be in on his crime-fighting adventures as his companion. Every front man’s gotta have a glamorous assistant on the side, right?

Though, of course, I’m not content to just sit on the side as if I’m some sort of a war widow-to-be. Well…I’m not really one for the ‘front lines’, either. Think of me as the support class in an RPG. James is out on the field, doing the physical stuff. Meanwhile, I’m right behind him, buffing him up with any gadgets I’ve managed to construct for him. I usually end up staying in the Spectre Kart, but I keep track of him using our communicators. I also guide him, like an extra pair of eyes. I like to think that I’m actually useful…he’s not said that I’ve been a nuisance or anything of the sort.

Although…

There’s been one time in particular I felt horrendously useless to James. I’m sure he felt useless, too. It’s been eight months since it happened but it’s still shaken us both, James more so, of course. There was this…villain, I guess, his ‘nemesis’, the Joker to his Batman, if you’ll excuse the comparison. She named herself Mad Rabbit. If anything she said made sense, it was that. She was crazy obsessed with James. It’s a rather…gory affair, so I won’t go too much into it. But to give you an idea of how crazy this bitch was, she not only tried to kill James, but she killed for him. She’s like a yandere or whatever those stalker girls are called in anime. If I’m weirded out by this, I can’t imagine how James must feel. I know he thinks it’s his fault that those people died, or almost died. And Mad Rabbit got away, so he knows better than anyone that he’s probably going to have to face off against her again at some point.

It was eight months ago, and we still haven’t really tried to deal with it. It’s kind of been stewing in the back of our heads, like a rotten casserole.

*

She’s got the brain of a nuclear scientist but the body of a supermodel. She’s literally the bestest friend I could ever have asked for. I never thought in my entire life I’d meet a girl like Tara Trent. There are a lot of things that in my life that I never dreamed would happen.

I guess I lived a more or less ordinary life in Chicago for a while. I was a typical teenage boy; I liked my comics, my movies, games, and all that jazz, and my sport of choice was basketball. I was pretty damn good at it too, the basketball thing, if the things my gym buddies said to me were anything to go by. My mom is just a waitress, but that’s OK, she’s still a cool mom. Dad does something a bit more exciting. He’s a police captain. Luckily, Dad’s such a stellar captain that when we had to move to Memphis to look after his grandma, he was able to find another position quick enough.

My life could be very different right now, as in, it would still be ordinary, if my father had decided to move as soon as he had previously wanted to. Being a police captain, he saw the crime in Memphis first hand, and at one time, it got so bad, he wanted to leave. I’d heard him mention it a few times to Mom over the dinner table, but I learned that a gang called ‘Code Blood’ were responsible for the sudden spike in crime. I remember a sense of dread creeping up on me when Dad mentioned that we might have to move if it got any worse. I hadn’t been in Memphis very long, but I really liked it already! I didn’t want to move, especially since we’d just gotten here.

The reason why we have role models is because we’re meant to draw influence from them. If we can’t solve a problem, we look to them for guidance. This situation was a little trickier for me. Mom was a waitress, and I don’t think killing them with supreme service would work. And Dad was involved with the police, so he was my best bet, but damn, if I knew Dad like I knew him, he’d never let me go out on patrol with him. Not to be mean, but just to protect me. I was quite strong and tall, well-built for my age, but by the time I would be able to join the police force, I would have been long gone from Memphis. So I looked to the next major influence in my life: comic books. Namely of the superhero variety.

I think crime fighting must run in the genes or something, because throughout this whole thing I’ve felt my true call to duty. If I told anyone what I was doing they’d probably call me crazy, but it still just felt so right. I went through the classic steps of designing my costume, and then crafting it, all myself. Next was equipment, but if I was careful with what I took from Dad’s non-lethal stash, and how often I took it, that wasn’t a problem. A few tonfas, a few tasers, a few smoke bombs, and it was all good. It wasn’t long before my alter ego manifested itself, and I called him ‘The Spectre’.

My first major exploit as The Spectre was badass to say the least. A great introduction to my saga! It was what made Dad change his mind and keep us in Memphis, after all. I found a bunch of that Code Blood scum celebrating their latest heist in an alleyway, and I confronted them. It ended with me firing a taser into a puddle they were standing on, and it wasn’t long before they were out cold. After that, the insane spike in crime dropped, not by much, but enough for Dad to choose to stay in Memphis. Of course, there was still crime happening in and around Memphis, so there were reasons for The Spectre to hang around.

My next exploit was not as badass. But it did lead to my rock solid friendship with Tara, so I can say that at least covers the embarrassment of the moment. I still physically cringe whenever I think about it…but basically, she was getting mugged. Me, or rather, The Spectre, jumped in and tried to save her, and bungled it horribly. Lady Luck smiled upon me that day because Tara and I came away from it more or less fine. I mean, we still had all our limbs. For some reason, unknown to me and probably her too, I let her take part of my disguise off, revealing the face of James Jordan under the mask (shades) of The Spectre.

I underestimated just quite how clever Tara was. Something tells me she kind of worked who I was before she even saw my face, but I don’t mind. She demanded to be my sidekick, or as she put it, ‘partner in crime-fighting’, and honestly, how could I say no? Her mega science brain has been extremely useful. She’s thought up gadgets for us, like my communicator. She makes stuff that I can barely dream of, let alone attempt to manufacture myself. Tara’s been amazing. Especially since…

That.

With Mad Rabbit.

Mad Rabbit…she’s something else. Out of this world, and not in a good way. Her obsession with me, to the point of killing for me…it makes my stomach quiver, makes me want to hurl until I pass out. It was eight months ago but when I close my eyes I can still see it all. Those two people, forced together and frozen, entwined in death’s embrace. The sickening crack as bits of them just…broke off. Literally. It was my fault. Tara says it’s not, but my gut says it is. I felt like there was something I could have done, should have done. I think my hands are shaking.

Batman always triumphed over Joker, Spiderman would always kick Green Goblin’s ass, and Superman would always find some way around Lex Luthor’s tricks. I mean, it might have taken a few chapters, a few issues, but they always won in the end.

What kind of superhero am I if I can’t rise to the challenge when I’m really needed?

*

I had to shield my eyes when I adjusted my watch since it was so bright out today. I had to adjust it in the first place because I couldn’t believe that James was late again. We always met on this one street corner, the one with this Mom’n’Pop bakery that looks like it popped right out of the fifties. James found it. We’d gotten into the habit of grabbing some sort of pastry or bread (nothing sweet, though, that’s gross) for breakfast on the way to school together. It meant leaving slightly earlier than we needed to, because we’d both take ages picking what we wanted. But lately James had been arriving later and later. It’d gotten to the point where we’d stopped meeting for breakfast, and we were just using the bakery as a meeting place.

I knew why he was late, of course. It’d been steadily declining over eight months, because of…well, her. I don’t need to say her name. James was usually good at keeping his life and the life of The Spectre separate. But he was starting to let it completely wreck him. He was becoming emotional jelly. If he kept this up he’d be rumbled for sure, especially with his dad working in the police as well. I care about James, I really do, but this thing was just so bizarre I really didn’t know how to approach it. I’ve been trying to work it out how to talk about it with him since it happened. I didn’t want him to keep it bottled up, because that lid wasn’t going to last forever.

“Tara!”
I was yanked out of the pool of my own little world by that familiar voice. “Hey, James!”
I stopped fiddling with my watch, something I’d been absent-mindedly doing since my thought train had started. I looked up the path, and saw James jogging down it towards me. One hand was on his backpack strap, the other pumping as he ran. He slowed before he reached me, timing it so that he came to a perfect stop by the time he reached the corner.
“Sorry, I’m late again…” James mumbled, gesturing to the bakery. “Did you still want to…?”
“Nahh, it’s OK,” I said, giving him a playful pat on the back. “I figured it might be the case, so I grabbed some toast or something before I left the house this morning. Did you still want to get something?”
“I’ll pick something up in the canteen during morning break, I think I can last for a few hours.”

While we made the trek to school, I ran through several scenarios in my head of how to bring up the whole thing as casually as possible. Nothing seemed to work, though. ‘So James, about that crazy chick…’, ‘Are you still feeling messed up about Mad Rabbit? Of course you are’. Something tells me that it wouldn’t have been the best time to bring it up, anyway. Instead, we made small talk, like lamenting about the cute cat we didn’t have time to stroke, or wondering if any in-school drama would have carried over from the weekend. It wasn’t long before we arrived at the gate with the rest of the five-minutes-lefters, being passed by stragglers who had more sense of urgency than we did. When we came to the T-junction in the hall where we usually parted ways, we simultaneously turned to look at each other, smiling sympathetically and shrugging.
“Are we still meeting up for lunch?” James asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Oh yeah!” I nodded, grinning and giving him a thumbs-up. “I’ve got a surprise planned…so you better not stand me up, you hear that?”
I watched the expression on his face change to ‘it’s too early in the morning for school’ to ‘oh wow’. His eyes opened slightly wider and his mouth hung open slightly. It wasn’t a look of ‘oh no’ surprise, it was happy surprise. I saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Oh…oh, really?” The smile became more prominent on his face.
“My dear James, would I lie to you?” I gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Now have a good day, I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Alright…see ya, Tara!”
James headed left, towards his homeroom. Right before he went in, he turned and gave me a mock salute, which I happily returned. When he ducked in through the door, I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. As I turned to head towards my own homeroom, I felt a smile spread across my own lips. Damn, that boy sure has an infectious attitude.

*

“Mr. Jordan? Mr. Jordan!”
“Huh? Sorry, Sir?”
“I asked you a question.”
“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t hear you…”
The tyrant in the gingham sweater turned back to the blackboard, chalk in one hand and the chunky textbook in the other. “I didn’t think so. You’ve gotten into a bad habit of ‘not hearing me’. I guess there’s no point in ‘pursuing a cold lead’, as it were, so…moving on.”
This was science class, but not one of the interesting ones where you put explosive chemicals in beakers or cut open a frog. It was one of those ones where the teacher was getting paid to read to us from the textbook. To be honest, though, it was probably something even Tara could find exciting. It’s a shame Tara’s slightly older and in a different grade to me. It’s not as if I struggle for a lab partner if I need it. It’s just that a friend like Tara can make the best out even a dull moment, with a witty comment, or even with just the quirky movement of an eyebrow.

Bzzzt.

I jumped a little as my phone vibrated in my pocket against my leg. Who was texting me at this point? Curiousity was getting the better of me at this point. But I’d already pissed off the teacher once, so having my phone out on the desk bold as brass was probably going to worsen my situation. I timed my movements carefully, like I was playing a non-lethal Corvo in ‘Dishonored’. I waited until he’d turned his back again, before pulling my phone out by the corner. Not all the way, but just enough to see the message.

Meet me on the roof for lunch. Don’t disappoint me!
- Tara

The roof? Why there? I snuck a peek out the window. Well…it was a clear day, so maybe it’d be nice to eat lunch al fresco. At least that’d be something to look forward to after this lesson. I remembered to quickly shove my phone back in my pocket and look up so that the teacher didn’t confiscate my phone, or worse…accuse me of daydreaming again.

I was cursing myself and that blasted science teacher by the time I’d finally made it to the stairs to get to the school roof. I was cursing the teacher because he’d given us a surprise pop quiz at the end of the class to make sure we’d been paying attention. I was cursing myself because I’d only managed to finish it five minutes after the bell had rung for lunch. I was hoping Tara wouldn’t be mad at me for making her wait. Hopefully there’d be some good stuff left in the canteen by the time we made it down there. Which is why I thought it was weird she wanted to meet on the roof first. I was also wondering why she hadn’t texted me telling me she was hungry and to get here faster, or something along those lines.

I found myself having to jog up the stairs to the roof just to shave the minutes off the time I was already late for. When I flung the door open, I was rather thankful to see that the roof was empty save for one person. Tara. She was standing on the far side by the fence. Her bag was at her feet, the fingers on her left hand gripping the links gently, while her right arm hung slack by her side. There was only a light breeze up here, but it still managed to catch strands of her hair and make it look like strands of gold in the sunlight. She looked beautiful.
“Tara!” I called out, heading over in some form of a speed-walk.
“There you are!” Her head snapped as she turned to look at me, picking up her bag and walking over. “Where were you?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I said, waving my hand and smiling. “We got lynched by a surprise quiz but I’m sure I did fine. Do you want to go and grab lunch now?”
“We don’t need to.”
“We…don’t?” I heard my stomach gurgle in protest, and I prayed she hadn’t heard it.
“No.” Tara hung her bag on her wrist and shook it at me. “I made our lunch for us. It’s right in here.”
“Oh, great!” I reached out my hands, expecting a box of some variety to get dropped into it, but Tara just put her bag back on the ground. “Uh…Tara? Are we eating or not?”
“James…” Tara sat down on the ground, shuffling up against the concrete hut that surrounded the stairs. She pulled the bag to her side, patting the free space next to her with her other hand. I took her cue and sat down. “I’m worried about you.”
“Worried? Why would you be worried?” I knew exactly why she’d be worried. I could feel the heat rising in my body.
“It’s been nearly a year and we still haven’t talked about…it.”
“I don’t know what you…”
“Mad Rabbit, James…” Tara tapped the soles of her shoes on the roof. I watched, mesmerised. “I know it’s…it’s hard to talk about it…but we really should. You can’t keep it all bottled up like that. Sure, you’re doing fine now, but what happens if…well…” She sighed. “It’s a pain in the ass to find the right words for this…maybe there aren’t any. But…talk to me, James. Something. Anything. Please…?”
Tara’s normally pleasant features were contorted. Not in an ugly way, but with concern. I couldn’t look her in the eyes, so I straightened my back against the wall. I drew up my knees, resting my forehead on them. “I’m…sorry…” I mumbled.
“Wh-what…?”
“I want to talk about it. I know I should. I mean…it’s what you’re supposed to do, right? But I can’t…well…It’s not you at all, I swear. I’m just…still trying to process this thing. I promise we’ll talk about it…I’ll do something about it…I’m sorry…”
I felt Tara’s arms rope their way around me, pulling me into a tight hug. She rested her head on top of mine, her blonde hair falling like a curtain in front of my face. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I know it’s been hard for you…I’m just worried about you…” She pulled away and looked me in the eyes, smiling. “I guess I just became so wrapped in how I felt about how you felt…that I kind of forgot the reason I was worried in the first place. We’re both shaken by this but as your partner I’m going to support you as best I can. I promise.”
I grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Thanks, Tara…you’re the best.”
“Heh!” She pulled her hands away and delved into her bag, taking out two Tupperware boxes. They were packed with sandwiches of various kinds. “Maybe save that until after you’ve tried my food, eh?” She passed one to me.
I didn’t have to retract my statement. They were simple sandwiches, but they were more delicious than anything the canteen could have come up with.

*

I didn’t get to see James again, not even in passing, until school ended. It was a rather pleasant surprise to see him there at the gate as I left the building. Usually I’d be the one waiting for him, but this time he was there first. And he wasn’t staring at his feet, pretending to be distracted by something on his phone. His face was bright, alert, and it lit up even more when he saw me come off the main steps at the entrance. He waved, and I waved back, even giving him a fist-bump when I reached him by the gate. I liked this James. I missed this James.

He was more lively in conversation on the way home as well, even leading it most of the time. I mean, I was pleased that he seemed to be feeling better…but I was wondering whose sake he was really doing it for. Had I been too emotional on the roof during lunch? No…no, I had every right to be emotional. He was my friend and I was worried about him. But looking back on it I’d probably come on a bit heavy. Admittedly, I could have chosen my words a bit better. But he was on his way, that’s all that mattered.
“Someone’s in a good mood!” I threw the comment in there, a little offhand. I coupled it with a friendly jab in the side with my elbow.
“Well, of course, I am!” James pushed back, laughing a little. “Maybe I didn’t ace the surprise test today, and I didn’t do well in gym, but now I’m walking back with my best friend. It’s not all bad. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
“Well…you know.” I gave him a slightly sheepish smile. “It got a little…heavy on the roof today.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple of younger looking girls looking over at us. They were covering their mouths and giggling, but as soon as I locked eyes with one of them, they quickly turned back to their little huddle. What were they finding so funny…? But a quick backtrack allowed me to pinpoint the cause of their tittering. I didn’t expect people to be listening in. That didn’t stop that last part of my sentence to James from being misconstrued by eavesdroppers.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?!” I snarled, actually rolling up my sleeve. “Clear off, or you’ll miss your curfew!”
“Tara, stop!” The girls scattered as soon as I even took a step towards them, but James still hooked his strong arm around my own and pulled me back. He took the arm I’d rolled the sleeve up on, pulling the cloth back down, and slung it over his shoulders, forcing me to walk with him. “Just ignore ‘em…they’ll probably tweet about it or something and then no one will care by dinner time.”
“Whatever…” I puffed out my cheeks and blew upwards, my bangs splaying. “I just keep messing up today, don’t I?” I sighed.
“What, because of those little kids? And you had an in-depth conversation with your friend today?” James raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I’ve seen lots of examples of ‘messing up’, but trust me, I think you’ve safely swerved any of that.”
“You think so?”
“My dear Tara, would I lie to you?” He couldn’t even finish the sentence without laughing. He said it in a slightly mocking tone, echoing what I had said to him that morning. “In all honesty, though…” James’ face that had become creased with laughter smoothed out and I saw that familiar smile again. “Yeah, that whole thing on the roof, it did kind of blindside me a little bit, but…I’ve had a good day today. I’m feeling good for once.”
A little lightbulb went off in my brain. “Well…it doesn’t just have to be a good daaaay…”
“…Tara, why did you say it like that?”
I reached over to his hand that was slung over my shoulder. I was about to squeeze it but I instead tickled the inside of his palm, making him jump back temporarily. It earned a small chuckle from me. “Why are you acting like a deer in headlights? It’s almost as if you don’t trust me!”
“I trust you!” James spluttered in protest. “But you can really be mischievous sometimes, you know!” He pointed to his tickled palm as if to show an example.
“Well, OK, yeah, maybe I misbehave sometimes,” I said, waving my hand at him as if to say ‘whatever’. “But hear me out.”
“OK, I’m listening…”
“Why don’t we have a good day…and a good evening, too?”
“As in…?”
“Let’s hang out tonight! We’ll…I don’t know, grab some food, chill with some games. Whatever you want!”
James glanced off to the side, scratching the back of his head. To my dismay he looked less than enthusiastic. “I-I’m not sure, Tara…”
“Why not? Do you have a lot of homework from today? Something better to do.”
“I was planning on going out on patrol, or something tonight. Y’know…I don’t want to fall out of practice…maybe if  I get some sort of rhythm or routine going I can-”
I tossed my hair over my shoulder and folded my arms. “James…”
“What!”
“Did what we…not really talk about, but at least discussed…today not mean anything to you?”
“I’m not cottoning on here.”
“Fine then. I’ll stop being cryptic and I’ll spell it out for you, plain as day!” I coughed, swallowed, cleared my throat. I generally made a big show of myself like I was preparing for a speech. I walked in front of James, planting my feet and halting his movement. “James Jordan!” I pointed my finger at him, one hand on my hip.
“Y-Yes?!”
“You work far too hard! This evening you have one mission and one mission only…” I turned my wrist so that my hand was no longer pointing at him, but was instead extending itself towards him. “Take the night off and chill out with your partner!”

Of course, I was only expecting one answer; the one I wanted. I could see it bubbling beneath the surface of his face. The little twitches of the muscle in his brow, and the way his eyes focused on imaginary objects, gave it all away. He was debating with himself, almost fighting himself. Saying that has little significance, though. He’s probably doing that with himself all the time anyway, regardless of whether or not I was trying to convince him to spend the evening with me. Just as I felt my arm beginning to ache, his slapped his hand into mine, gripping it and giving it a firm shake.

“It’s a deal, partner.”

*

“So let’s see what we got…chicken, rice, stock, mixed vegetables, all-spice…” We were in Tara’s kitchen. She said she didn’t really want to go to my house because it might be crowded, and she just wanted it to be a ‘party for two’ as she put it. Her parents were out and she’d manage to wrangle at least the kitchen and the living room to herself. “Is that everything we need?”
“…what do you mean is that everything we need?” I was just sat on the counter, watching her unpack.
“Well, I thought you had an idea of what we should cook!” Tara put her hands on her hips and turned to me, looking indignant. She cocked her head, her hair cascading to one side. “That’s why I got all this stuff, because you can make pretty much anything with this stuff.”
“With the way you were sweeping the shelves like a speed demon, you seemed so confident!” I hopped off the counter, moving over to the pile of ingredients, picking them up and studying the labels. “I thought you knew what you were doing, so I didn’t say anything.”
“You wanna know why I was such a ‘speed demon’, mister?” She gave me a poke in the chest. “Coz there was this old grandpa-looking fellow who giving me the ‘eyes’. I didn’t want him to actually start perving on me, so I just chucked whatever into the basket.”
“Tara! Why didn’t you say something?”
“There’s not really much you can do about it really, unless you were going to gouge his eyes out. And besides…” She shrugged, rolling her shoulders back, before winking at me. “…I don’t mind people looking at the menu, just as long as they don’t try to order anything!”
“Oh…oh, Tara, don’t be gross.” I didn’t even see the old man she was supposedly talking about, but just the image of some old fart drooling over Tara was disturbing enough. “I haven’t even started cooking yet and you’re already putting me off my food.”
“James, take a joke will you?” She gave me a friendly slap on the back. Well…more than a ‘friendly’ slap, she actually made me stumble forward a bit. “Anyway, if we want to have dinner before Christmas, we should probably start cooking something, right?”

We started deboning the chicken and seasoning it, but then we realised that we still had no idea what we were going to actually do with it. Tara briefly went scouting and found a cookbook. We liked the look of a dish but we didn’t have all the ingredients for it, so we improvised and decided to make do with what we’d managed to grab from the supermarket. Tara’s hands are slightly more delicate than mine, so I read out the instructions for her while she worked away at the meat. After about twenty minutes and much debating, we’d made a pot of something that smelled somewhat appetising, so we popped it in the oven.
“Phew!” Tara pretended to wipe sweat from her brow, pulling up a chair from the table and sitting down on it. “Good work, partner. We make quite the team!”
“Yeah we do,” I replied with a grin. I reached over and made sure not to leave her hanging when she put her hand up for a high-five. I leaned back on the counter, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. “…do you want some tea or something?”
“I prefer coffee, but yes please!”
I didn’t actually know how Tara took her coffee, but she always turned her nose up at sweet things, so I added just a splash of milk to hers. I debated making some for myself but I really didn’t feel like something as hardcore as coffee. But I felt the need to at least have something in my hands to fiddle with if Tara did, so I just filled a mug with water and brought both of them to the table. We sat in silence for a few moments, with me staring at the ceiling.
“James…?”
“Yeah?” I was about to take a sip of my water, but Tara had caught my attention. My mug was balanced precariously by my lips.
“Can we talk about something?”
I put my mug down. “Is it about…that…thing?”
“I think you’ve had enough of me rattling on about that for one day!” Tara laughed, but it felt just a little bit forced. “No…no, I was thinking about us.”
“Us?”
“Well, more like our career.” Tara peeked into her cup, and then she put it down again. I think she’d emptied it. That gave me a small sense of satisfaction. “I mean…it bears thinking about, right?”
“Mhmm.”
“I know we spend a lot of time together anyway, but maybe we should…I dunno how to put it…I want to say ‘dedicate more time’, but we already dedicate a lot of time to it…so maybe ‘dedicate some time’ would be better.”
“What kind of things were you thinking of?”
“Nothing in particular when I really put my mind to it…not at the moment, anyway. But…” Tara turned her fingers into a steeple, peeking at me over the top of them. “Why don’t we take, say, one night a week, just to sit down and discuss it. Like, plans of action, new gadgets you’d want to me design, stuff like that.” She nodded. “Yeah…yeah, stuff like that! Then we’re not having to squeeze it wherever we can fit it, like we’re forcing it or something.” Her eyes glanced up to the ceiling temporarily as she thought, but they quickly came back to my face. “Of course, we’d still go out on patrol, and take up missions when we needed to. But…maybe, just maybe, we take one night a week off where we’re off duty…if we can help it, of course! We’re not going to just toss the public to the wind if they really need us. Even then, it’d be nice to have it there as an option, if we can afford to.” Tara realised how much she’d spoken, and she looked a little sheepish. “So…those are just things that spring to mind…but…what do you think?”

I hadn’t said a word for the entire time she was talking, but boy was I listening. Had she really thought up all that stuff on the fly? This is why I needed someone like Tara by my side. Not just a sidekick, but as a friend, too. I’d been so distracted lately by…well…you know…recent events…that I’d basically stopped considering my future. Not in a nihilistic way or anything like that, but just because it hadn’t crossed my mind because I already had so many things in it. Unfortunately it wasn’t just my future that was suffering, it was my present as well. I wasn’t doing great. I realised that now. I was going to do something to fix it, or at least start to…now that I knew that Tara would be there to metaphorically hold my hand. Or, literally, if I really needed it.

I’d been staring at Tara for a few minutes, while she was waiting for a reply, and now she was starting to look worried. “Oh…uh…that sounds great!” I swirled my finger around the edge of my mug. “Maybe we can wait a little bit before we-” I noticed a black tendril sneaking over my hand. I jumped back, pulling my hand away. “Tara, what is that?”
“What is wha-” She followed my gaze that was still centred on the black tendril, tracing it back to the oven where our dinner had gone beyond cooking and was now burning. “Oh shit, the…the thing!”
We found some oven gloves somewhere and I managed to dig my way through the black fog pouring out of the oven. Tara opened a window, then ended up standing on a kitchen chair to fan the smoke alarm with her hand. She kept peering over cautiously as I tried to figure out what exactly had gone down inside that pot while we’d been sat at the table.
“How is it, James…?”
I peered into the pot. What was inside resembled a black, sticky tar, with rather ambiguous blackened objects floating about in it. I looked back to her and I shook my head. “Inedible. If we picked the burnt parts off, we’d be left with an empty pot.”
Tara let out a groan of exasperation, hopping off the chair when she was satisfied with the lack of smoke in the kitchen. “And it was going so well! What are we going to do for dinner now?”
“Well…the convenience stores are going to be shut at this time…all the good ones, anyway.” I poked what was inside the pot with the end of a spoon, and it was worryingly solid. “But we could still go out, I guess?”
“Yeah, maybe…” Tara took the spoon from me to poke at the abomination, and quickly tossed the spoon in the sink when she’d confirmed for herself how dire the situation had become. “But where?”
I tried racking my brains for any idea of where we could go to eat. There were a lot of restaurants in this area, but that didn’t necessarily mean there was a lot of choice in itself. Thankfully, unlike most of my thought processes that day, it didn’t take forever for me to reach some sort of conclusion. There were empty stomachs at stake here.
“Tara?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about Chinese food?”

*

“OK, so, anything I can fit in the box I can take home?” Tara gestured to her takeaway box that was already overflowing with noodles, rice, various vegetables, and an even wider variety of meats.
“Yes!” The cashier nodded enthusiastically. “As long as you can close the lid, everything inside it is yours!”
“And all for five dollars, right?”
“…yes.” The cashier nodded with significantly less enthusiasm.
“Tara,” James whispered, tapping her shoulder. “You’ve asked the poor woman the same question three times now.”
“I know, I know!” Tara said, waving her hand at him. “I just want to make sure that it’s five dollars and not a cent more.”
“Are you ready to pay now?” The cashier had a smile like a Barbie doll, but the voice had an edge of impatience to it.
“Yep! …actually, hang on.” Tara put the box on the ground, placing the lid on top, and then proceeded to stand on it. James looked away, almost out of politeness, but it was mostly to hide the grin that was fighting to appear on his face. A couple of noodles and slithers of meat unfortunately got snipped off as Tara performed some sort of wiggle dance on top of the box, and the lid snapped shut. “There we go!” Tara stepped off the box, passing it to the cashier with a grin.
The woman had been rendered slightly speechless by Tara’s performance, and didn’t respond until she shook herself out of the daze. “Five dollars, please.” She really didn’t get paid enough for this job.

They made it back to Tara’s place, once again congregating in the kitchen. Tara went digging through the cupboards to find some sort of bleach to try and salvage the cooking pot. James was, in turn, tasked with dishing out their prizes they’d procured from the buffet. His was easy enough, as he’d stuffed it as much as he could but it could still fit on a regular plate. He wasn’t quite sure what law of physics Tara had defied, but her box almost sprang open like a can of those paper snakes when he’d opened it. Her ‘meal’ ended up spilling out onto two plates.
“I still can’t believe you stood on the box!” James said incredulously. He tried to sound incredulous, but he still couldn’t help but laugh. “You know everyone was looking at you, don’t you?”
“So? I don’t care!” Tara pointed at the two plates her food was occupying with a rubber-gloved hand. “Look at that. I think I’m the real winner here!” She turned back to the cooking pot, emitting a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to win with this pot though…” Tara gingerly pulled the rubber gloves off and tossed them onto the counter. Then she went over to James, draping her arms around him and jokingly crooning. “Jaaaames! I need cheering uuuuuup!”
“Tara, get off!” James chuckled, trying to wrestle with his friend’s arms. She had the advantage of being a little taller than him, and she was taking that advantage and running with it. “And what do you mean you need cheering up? Look at all this food you got!”
“Yeah, but I want something else now.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I want to play some games! I think you still owe me a game of Smash Bros.”
“Fox, Final Destination, no items?”
“You’re on.”

They both grabbed their respective plates to head into the living room. Tara balanced hers like she was the human personification of a set of scales, while James had a slightly better grip on his. Tara set her plates down on the coffee table first, and then went to set up for the gaming session. James followed suit with his plate before heading back into the kitchen to get glasses and cutlery. He nestled himself into the couch, holding a cushion to his chest with one arm while his free hand scrolled through his phone. James looked up and smiled when he felt the familiar weight of Tara settled next to him on the couch, freeing his hands so he could grab the controller that had been tossed into his lap.
“James?”
“Yeah?” He turned to look Tara in the face.
She had one hand on her controller, while the other was tucking some hair behind her ear. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but she had a smile on her face. “I’m sorry if…today…I was too much. About the…the whole thing. I’m just-”
James held up his hand, bringing her sentence to a halt. Tara blinked, as if she was in shock. Then her expression hardened, looking slightly annoyed at being cut off, and opened her mouth to retort. James got there first. “Listen, Tara, the thing is…” He paused, and when Tara didn’t speak, he sighed heavily, and continued. “The thing is…I’m always going to have something on my mind. Something’s going to have me worried, or disturbed, or just generally unhappy. But I’ve come to realise something. It’s part and parcel with this kind of lifestyle, isn’t it? I can’t be fearless, because that’s impossible. If I want to be a real hero, I have to have fear in the first place, and face it. You know what I mean?” Tara nodded, listening in earnest. “The thing at the moment…yeah, it’s messed me up. I realise that now. Maybe  I was in denial or something, I don’t know…” He looked up at the ceiling, transfixing him himself with a particular mark on it. “But I will deal with it…no, I am dealing with it. It might take a while for me to ‘fully get over it’, or whatever, but I will fully come to terms with it. I promise.” He turned his head back to Tara, looking her in the eyes. “I just hope that you’re willing to hang around for long enough…and beyond that.”
James had barely finished his final sentence when Tara dropped her controller and reached over, pulling him into a tight hug. His head was resting on her chest, and once again her hair had fallen like a golden curtain in front of his face. One hand was around his shoulders, while the other gently stroked his hair. “Oh, James…you’ve grown so much…as a hero, and a person. I’m so proud of you…” They sat in silence like that for a while, until Tara pulled away and had her trademark grin plastered across her face. “You don’t need to worry about me ‘hanging around’ or whatever…you’re not getting rid of me that easily!”

Tara offered her fist, holding it in the air in front of James. He looked between it and Tara, before laughing, and bumping his own fist against it. With that, the two sat back and resumed their comfortable gaming stances on the couch.
“May I?” James asked, gesturing with the controller.
“You may,” Tara replied, bringing her legs beneath her on the couch.
His thumb wandered over to press the ‘start’ button, bringing the game to life on the television screen before them.

It was, indeed, the start of a good evening.
The Spectre - Partnership Intertwine by SRLAC
Story By. :iconsrlac:
srlac.deviantart.com/
Writing Commission - RalphbearJames. As in, James Jordan. And The Spectre. You could say they’re different people. I know that he says that. But I know better. I know because I know both of them. They’re only different in looks. It’s the same boy under that mask. He’ll always be James to me.
I suppose if I’m speaking so highly of this guy that I should probably explain how it came to be that way. Otherwise it just sounds like I’m spouting some sort of psycho-babble. That might be a lost cause in itself, though. By the time I’m done explaining how James and I met, you’ll probably be thinking about how crazy I must have been…well, still am. I guess you can say we met unconventionally and we maintain our friendship in a less than ‘normal’ way as well.
The best way to explain this is probably to start from how we even came to be within a few feet of each other. I’m not the kind of girl to just find randoms and bond with them. I never really

Writing Commissions - Only $15!Hello there! If you've spotted this journal, chances are you are interested in some writing commissions! By all means, if you ARE actually interested, read the entire journal so you can be fully informed, thank you! C:
For $15, you are guaranteed a piece of 8-10 pieces long*! If I happen to go over the page limit, that's no problem, I won't ask for any additional charges!
* All commissions are written in Microsoft Word, 'no spacing' format, with Times New Roman font in size 12
The first link below is my writing commissions folder in my gallery, so you can gauge what you're getting. The second link below if a folder of my personal writing so you can see examples of how I write.
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Here are some ground rules:
1. (a) I am only writing OC+OC stories for now. That means no Canon+Canon and no Canon+OC. I CAN,

Spectre Title Designed By :iconmysteryfanboy718:

The Spectre, Tara Trent Created by :iconralphbear:

Summary: Take Place 8 Months after the events of   The Spectre - Rabbit Dance By Mr UnDisclosed
James Jordan couldn’t have avoided it if he tried, after all it was signed with his name. Well his second name. This was a message sent out to The Spectre.
A couple were found locked in each other’s arms in the city park. They were locked together, arm in arm, lip locked and frozen solid. Ice crusted eyelashes entangled, crystallized fingertips mingled through fields of brittle frozen scalps. It was an epitaph, a message left out for everyone to see.
Lovers stuck in one another's embrace, frozen in a moment of what should have been bliss, but this tortured tableaux was hardly the thing he needed to start his night. “Tara,” he spoke into his collar where he’d spent a few hours stitching a communicator, “I’m going to need you to call the police. We’ve got something they’re going to want to see here. “ He took a step toward the pair but his guts felt quakey with every step.
“You okay James?” She asks, it’s a stu
  James and Tara's once normal life has been a bit outta whack since and Tara being the best friend James ever had (well had to talk about his double life) and tried to talk things out as partners.
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(Contains: violence/gore and strong language)
James Jordan couldn’t have avoided it if he tried, after all it was signed with his name. Well his second name. This was a message sent out to The Spectre.

A couple were found locked in each other’s arms in the city park. They were locked together, arm in arm, lip locked and frozen solid. Ice crusted eyelashes entangled, crystallized fingertips mingled through fields of brittle frozen scalps. It was an epitaph, a message left out for everyone to see.

Lovers stuck in one another's embrace, frozen in a moment of what should have been bliss, but this tortured tableaux was hardly the thing he needed to start his night. “Tara,” he spoke into his collar where he’d spent a few hours stitching a communicator, “I’m going to need you to call the police. We’ve got something they’re going to want to see here. “ He took a step toward the pair but his guts felt quakey with every step.

“You okay James?” She asks, it’s a stupid question of course he isn’t okay. But, well, there’s nothing about this life that doesn’t hurt eventually. She can see it through his glasses, the frozen couple, lips locked. She sees what he, she hopes anyway, can’t see. She zooms in the little cameras in his glasses to see cracks and fissures around the pair’s mouth. These people weren’t placed like this, they were forced together and then frozen. The pair struggled, fought but died regardless. It was a morbid scene, completed with the little pink envelope clenched between their frozen fingers.

“Fine,” he replies in a wet breath, “just fine,” his throat burns as he chokes back vomit. Dead bodies, two people dead all to deliver a message to him. He can’t touch it, it’s a crime scene, he shouldn’t touch it, leave it to the police for god’s sake he can hear himself think as he grasps the letter. Heroes don’t leave things to the police. He tugs the letter and it doesn’t budge, he tugs again and something cracks. He closes his eyes as he hears something hit the bench.

A finger.

He wants to be sick.

“James,” Tara’s voice says in his ear, “James it’s okay, just, it’s okay.” All she can see is him looking down at his feet, he won’t look at the couple. He broke part of them, she can see his knees knocking together in utter fright. He didn’t sign up for this, this isn’t a thing a child should have to do alone. She has to remind him he isn’t alone. “It’s fine, get back to the kart, we can check the letter for fingerprints. Like we practiced. Just turn around James, just turn around and walk away.”

He nods, mumbles something silently, mumbles something again and makes a sound like choking. He turns around and she sees him put one foot in front of the other, that’s the only way he’s going to get through this, she reflects, one step at a time. She mutes her mic, sips on the coffee by her side, James won’t be sleeping tonight and now it looks like she won’t be either.

He stops looking at his feet and makes his way to the kart, it’s not exactly a souped up muscle car but it’s pretty fantastic for getting around the city. “Okay,” James replies, his voice flat all of a sudden devoid of anything like emotion. “I’m going to check for prints.” He slouches over by the kart and opens up a compartment in the side.

The kart is a single person vehicle, it’s a defunct old go-kart from an amusement place that shut down a few years before James got to town. Most of the vehicles were sent to scrap yards or bought off by other companies or groups. Tara had made a friend at the junkyard who liked to collect engine parts or whole pieces of kit. He fixed them up for fun and sold off the refurbished remains through an online business, at full price as “Custom Creations” erased the traces of the junk yard to maintain a bit of money on the sly. He was a resourceful sort of person, Tara could respect that, when she ordered a custom kart with blue and black trim there was no question asked.

She took it off his hands and had it retrofitted with a larger engine, something from an actual car and not some push mower thing. Reinforce the chassis with some carbon fibre material, strengthen the steel with double sized rivets and after a few weeks of engine grease ruining her clothes she’d built a car from scraps. The Spectre Kart, she was fairly tempted to tell James this was a silly name but all of this was rather silly when she stopped to think about it. It was a nippy thing, speedy enough to give most normal cars a run for their money and small enough that it could dart through the side streets of Memphis and cut out any chases.

James sprinkled black powder across the back of the pink envelope, tipping it out delicately from the test tube he stored it in. He coated the back of the envelope evenly, making sure to coat the intersection of the envelope flaps, people press down there to seal the envelope, most logical place to pick up a print. He puts down the test tube, corking it, and removes a brush from the kart’s side. He rubs it across the envelope, scattering the dust save where it’s clung to the residue left behind by fingerprints.

“Damn.” The back of the envelope was swarming with finger prints, all crushing over one another and smothering each other. He couldn’t tell if they were all the same finger prints or all different prints, no human eye could tell. “Not much we can save here, is there?”

“Not really,” Tara said sounding unsure, “it might be worth holding on to but we’re on a bit of a schedule James,” the next part was dicey, “if two people have been hurt there’s a chance more could be hurt if we don’t hurry.” She hears James swallow at the statement, nerves quake his hand as he opens the letter. Inside on pretty pink stationery is a letter addressed to The Spectre;

Dear The Spectre, I feel that the “The” is essential and as such won’t be addressing it to just Spectre, much too familiar and this occasion is I’m afraid frighteningly formal.

Valentines Day passed recently, a day of lovers and candy and cake and such like. Love and lust put on pretty masks and dance the night away, you know? No you don’t. Because.

YOU.

NEVER.

CALLED.

ME.

It broke my heart, shattered it just as easily as that couple in the park could be shattered. Destroyed, totally and utterly, it filled my guts with worms and my mouth with only harsh things to say, hurtful things, all directed at you. Why isn’t he here to sweep me off my feet? Where’s the chocolate? Where’s the god DAMNED CARD! I’m not asking for a lot here just some bloody effort.

I looked out my window and what did I see on that day my heart broke? I saw luckier couples; all locked lips and holding hands. I was distraught! So, guess what, I found every couple I could and I snared them. Dragged them off. I was just going to kill them all, leave them laying in fun little things. I had this whole idea of drowning them tunnels of love, covering them in chocolate and throwing them to lions, great stuff I’ve tucked away for other dances we can do later.

But then, I thought, what is vengeance? I have decided that we should show these sorry couples the real way romance works. So Spectre. I’m waiting for you with dancing shoes on at the Ballroom Club. Come in black, I love you in black. I’ll be waiting, but not forever. You stand me up this time. Well. You’ll be letting a lot of people down.

Ever Yours; Mad Rabbit

“Of course,” James snaps, balling up the letter in his slowly forming fist, “of course this is my fault.” He gets into the kart. “I don’t call the crazy woman so she starts killing couples, of course.” His voice fills with venom, slow solid and thick enough to kill a man. “Mad Rabbit.” He kicks the kart into gear and it jolts forward suddenly.

“Tara, directions, The Dance Hall.”

“1st Commercial District,” Tara replied her voice clipped, “James we need you to calm down. This is not the best thing to do here, charging in. That’s what she wants. I can call the police, we can settle this with their help.” She was already calling them on a separate phone, trying to placate James. She saw his hands wringing on the steering wheel and she imagined how easily that could translate to a neck.

“Got to be me,” he said firmly, “She asked for me. She’ll get me,” his voice sounds rough, comes through clenched teeth. He splits across main street, tires scream and car horns split the night as the kart dives into the yawning maw of another alley. Some unlucky homeless fellow takes a spill as the kart comes dangerously close to clipping him. He flops over limply onto a pile of rags he may have been using as bedding. He spits curses at James, but he doesn’t hear them over the engine and the fury in his mind.

She’s killing people.

He wants to go home, he should go home, this isn’t the kind of thing a fifteen year old should do. He should go home, burn the costume, burn the kart, burn the whole damn idea to the ground.

She’s killing people.

But he can’t, ice settles in his spine as he keeps remembering the couple in the park. Two people he never knew, two people he’d never meet, two people with the whole world ahead of them.

She’s killing people.

He has to put a stop to this. Make her stop, stop the utterly batty crazy woman who loves the idea of having a nemesis. Loves it. He remembers the look in her big beautiful eyes and the way her smile splits the pie face make up apart. She comes alive when he stops her, she lives for him stopping her. She needs him to stop her before she does it again, she lives for the banter, the laughs.

She’s killing people.

He thinks he can hear Tara saying something. It’s drowned out by the engine and his thoughts. Lots of screaming, lots of him begging himself to stop. He wants to go home, please, let’s go home to Mrs. Pearl and hear her talk about her thirty thousand cats. Go talk to his dad, he was in the police, he could tell his dad about all of this and he would understand. He could turn Tara off, she was just a face on the internet. A nerd at school. Dismiss her and take the looks. He could leave The Spectre behind and maybe that would stop the Mad Rabbit.

She’s killing peo-

He stops the car and is sick into the road. He hears himself screaming, yelling over the burn in his chest and the noises in his head. How did it come to this. He’s not supposed to have these problems, oh god he wants to go home and turn out the light and go to sleep. Let this all be a dream, let it be someone elses problem. James Jordan can’t do this. James Jordan shouldn’t have to do this.

“James,” Tara speaks in his ear, “James. It’s okay. James it’s fine, this is scary James,” she sounds soft, delicate, “this isn’t what you signed up for.”

“Nobody signs up for this,” he says surprised at the roughness of his own voice, “nobody signs up for this kind of thing.” He saw the heroes in the comics, he saw them punch people out, save the day and save people. Nobody got hurt, everybody was fine. Lord what kind of world was he stuck in where his presence ruined everything? Everything about this life hurt. His limbs ached all the time, his grades were going down, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept more than four hours a night. “Everything hurts.”

“I know James,” she said, “I know.” She didn’t.

“I’m fine,” he lied, “I’m fine.” He felt his throat burn and he grunted, spitting off to the side. He’d come too far to stop now. “I can do this.” James Jordan couldn’t do this, he knew that, The Spectre had to do it. That’s how this worked. The Spectre could do this, The Spectre had done it before, he’d do it again. He’d been doing it these past six months. He’d do it until it killed him. That’s how it would be, that’s how it was in the comics. That’s how he’d make it in real life. He’d seen the idea work on paper, he’d blunt force it in real life.

He’d reached the Dance Club. It was a sad isolated little place, run down, no lights on and most certainly nobody home. There was nothing around for miles. Singularly this building and the road that led to it. “No surprise why you went out of business,” he muttered at the complex, “takes a half hour to find you. It’d be easier to take dance lessons online or something.” He adjusted his belt as he left the kart. His knees felt weak again, he closed his billowing cloak around his legs. Hide it, use what they can’t see against them. If The Spectre looks fearless. He is…..right?

“Tara,” James spoke softly as he wandered toward the door, “I’m going in to stall her, tell me the police are coming before I wet myself.”

“They’re on their way James,” she didn’t add the silent ‘I hope’ at the end of that but her voice wavered a little, “it’s still pretty far out there. You only made it out there so fast by gunning the spectre kart. So try and...stall her if you can.”

“Man you make it sound easy,” he said with a wry chuckle, “maybe we should swap places once or twice. You wear the tights and I can sit on the computer, watch some cat videos.”

“Sorry to tell you James, I wear tights too, you’ll never escape them in either job.” She says warmly. He laughs in return and he stops in front of the door. She can see his reflection in the double doors, he’s shaking beneath the cowl and cape. He’s ten seconds from passing out and he looks paler than she’s ever seen him. “You can do this.”

“I’ve got to.” He opens the door and steps inside.

The inside is pitch black, no light save the gentle trickle from the moon outside, he turns on the night vision of his shades to see and to help Tara keep track of whats going on. He snorts a moment later at the sight of the foyer. It’s all dilapidated, thick coatings of dust on every surface save the ground. He looks down and the night vision separates the dust into a clear white powder like snow through the filtered lenses. The dust on the ground is parted, split, and bisected all over by foot prints. Lines and legions of feet dragged and marched through the dust. How many people does she have in here? He swallows the fear, bottles it up, James Jordan can be afraid all he wants.

The Spectre feels no fear.

The foyer has a sign dangling from the ceiling written in red- ohpleasepleasepleaseplease- paint. It’s a big arrow going through a frighteningly realistic looking heart. Written above it in thick jagged script is

This Way To The Girl of Your Dreams

“She really is insane,” James mutters to himself, “girl of my dreams is Beyonce.” He follows the sign and sees more and more on the wall. Various slogans and such. The kind of things you see written on heart candies, but they all look so wrong in the thick splattered text on the walls. 2gether4eva. It’s all a bit much, he thinks as he passes a picture of himself dressed up as a bee next to the words “With you soon, darling!” Lord the puns were worse than the crimes she’d committed. Almost.

He follows the carpet of shoe prints through the dust. He traces them to a big oak door with a bolt hole window in the top, like the ones on the big navy ships he thinks. The footprints terminate here, everyone’s hopefully inside. He takes a breath, clenches his fists and pushes the door open before sauntering inside. Eyes training on the darkness for anyone that might leap out and surprise him.

A light comes on and steals his sight. Night vision scorches his eyes and he slaps at his glasses to turn it off as a high kilter laugh slaps at his right ear. “Seeing stars, dear?” A voice purrs into his ear, words drip in, she’s right next to him! He jumps back, almost falls over his cape, he can’t see but she’s there ahead of him. His hand goes to his belt, tonfa’s locked through the first loop on the back. Get armed, take a wild swing, chances are if she tries to get close again he can hit her.

“Looking for something?”

A sharp pain against his bicep, the whole arm sings with agony and locks up against his side for a moment. He scampers away from the pain, hisses and covers his arm, he bites down on his lip to swallow the scream he feels coming up his throat.

“I’d thought you were excited to see me,” he hears her say, vision slowly bleeding back he can see her ears against the light, big pink stupid rabbit ears, “imagine my horror when I have a little feel and find this. It’s wood but not the kind I was hoping for.” She lets out a little sigh and he hears his tonfa hit the ground and clatter away. “Oh I’m sorry,” she trilled, “you seem to be having trouble seeing. Am I so radiant?”

Vision comes back, he wishes it hadn’t. It’s Rabbit he sees her first. All pale exposed flesh and white face paint smeared all over face and hands. Dressed in a tight red jacket, poxed with hearts and buttons all over the surface. Big pink eye lashes and multicoloured whiskers daubed on her cheeks combined with the pink ears loping to one side on her head shows him he’s dealing with the rabbit. The room shows him he’s dealing with the mad.

Couples, dozens of them, fifty, sixty, maybe, all of them standing locked together in a tight embrace standing on a thin wooden platform that wobbles with each wracked sob of those standing on them. Around their necks are thick ropes, lashed to beams across the ceiling from which the lights hang. Couples forced to cling to one another, support each other or the platform will fall over and- James can almost hear the snap of necks in the back of his mind.

“What do you think?” Mad Rabbit asks holding out her arms and spinning on the spot. “I got all these willing couples together. All so we could show them how it’s done,” she tittered out a school girl laugh, “show them a real couple. Like one of those power couples you see on TV. We could be like, you know, Brangalina or something. How do you like the sound Spectrabbit? Maybe Madctre? I’ve been working on these for a while now.”

He doesn’t say anything he’s too busy looking at all the people here. ALl of them are barefoot, some walking on bloody soles, how long have they been stuck like this? All of them are crying, all of them are bound and gagged. All of them are looking at him with big red eyes. What are they thinking? Are they happy to be saved, amazed that somone has finally come for them? Or do they see the reason they are stuck here? He doesn’t know, it’s all too much again, James Jordan screams in The Spectre’s mind.

The Spectre doesn’t have time to be scared. “You’ve gone too far Rabbit.” He sounds rough when he talks, his throat hurts, he’s not sure if it’s rage or he’s choking something back again. “Let these people go,” The Spectre doesn’t want to say the next part, “but you can still walk out of this.” The Spectre won’t let her leave, she’s killed people and she doesn’t get out of this. She turns to look at him and her eyes go wide and all the teeth appear to split her face.

“There you are,” she said softly, “I was worried you were just someone in a Spectre costume. No spine, no soul, I mean it-”

“Shut up!” Spectre snaps, teeth snapping together, “Shut up.” He Stalks closer, his arm still hurts but doesn’t matter. The Spectre feels no pain. “Let these people go Rabbit,” The Spectre is an inch away from her and she can see herself reflected in his glasses. She presses a finger to her lips and cocks her hips.

“Oh,” she coos slowly, “the big boy voice,” she reaches a hand out toward his face, knuckles gently caress his cheek. “I like this,” she grinds the words out through her teeth, “I like this.” She leans toward him, closer, he waits until he has her within total striking range. “If I knew all it took to get you running into my arms was a few dozen hostages I’d have done it a lot sooner.” She leans forward, he feels her breath against his lips. James Jordan feels lucky. The Spectre doesn’t associate with scum.

He jabs out at her, a quick blow to the liver, her eyes go wide and she coughs spittle onto his face. The hand at his cheek rakes downward to his jaw, it burns and tears bite at the edges of his vision, it was to be expected. He seizes the hand at the wrist, twists it sharply, she goes to scream but the punch forces her to wheeze instead. He sweeps his leg around, heel axes into the back of her knee and she falls forward. He’s got one arm wrenched behind her back and stand on the back of intersection of her knee.

“I can snap it,” he says into her ear, voice colder than winter, “I can snap it and you’ll never walk again.” He means it. The Spectre means it, she’s bad for the city, he should break her, ruin her, destroy her. James Jordan couldn’t do it. The Spectre could, The Spectre does what needs to be done.

“Do it.” She says. “Please do it.”

“God.” He says in reply. “You are mad.” She laughs at that, thick bubbling laughter from the very heart of her being. He feels her shift her weight to the other leg to gain leverage. He doesn’t know what she’s doing when her free arm appears in front of him holding one of the heart buttons. She clenches her grip against the edges of the button and it snaps into a blinding light.

Spectre shields his eyes and Rabbit hops back, her back slams into his chest and he hears something pop. She screams and he hits something. He feels a sudden weight against his back and he goes to shift it.

“James! No! Don’t move! The Couple!”

He realises what’s happened when he feels something shift on his back, Rabbit shoved him under one of the couple’s stands and knocked loose the support. Only he’s holding them up now. He arches his back, bears the weight across it, places his hands under the plant of wood and supports the pair. He hears muted sobs and gasps though her can’t see. He hears Rabbit, scrabbling about, hissing in agony with every move. He popped her leg out of it’s socket, good. He hopes she has to hop all the way home, complete the rabbit image.

“That was almost very naughty,” he hears her snarl, “very naughty! We were supposed to show all these people how to dance. Now you’ve gone and stepped on my feet, ruined my nice suede shoes. Ohh you’re luck your pretty or I’d be mad.” He hears her giggle and then she comes closer. Vision clears up in time to see her standing in front of him, lopsided smile, tonfa in both hands.

“Let’s fix this up,” she grins, “you hurt my leg, let’s hurt yours.” She brings it down on his kneecap. He doesn’t scream, The Spectre doesn’t scream, he won’t give her the satisfaction. He groans through the pain. His outfit has gel packets in a few places, Tara insisted. Stuff from her dads military days, some kind of top of the line water balloon. Filled with “Kinetic Impact Gel” it’s some kind of science. In short when you hit it with blunt force it hardens up like rock so the next hit isn’t so bad. His knee feels weak but he can’t feel the second hit, the third makes his leg shake a little, the fourth almost steals his leg out from under him.

Must be what a tree feels like when a woodpecker savages it. He assumes at any rate, but more painful. He feels a crack, another crack, he hears her laughing and he tries to sell the pain. Every hit has him let out a low savage groan. Play the part of The Spectre, play the pain out for the audience.

He feels tears sting his eyes again.

“You’re good on your feet darling,” Rabbit pants, her ears flopping to one side until she adjusts them, “I’ll give you that. Let’s swap legs.” She pulls back and he knows he’ll drop them. The gel pack hardens after the first blow which means she gets ONE solid whack at him. The last one nearly brought him down. This one, he knows deep down, will.

He hears the tonfa whistle through the air, he bites down on his lip, tastes blood flood into his mouth and waits for the sound of-

“Freeze!” He hears a gun cock, “Memphis Police, put your hands on your head!”

“Another time,” Rabbit snarls and throws the tonfa at the officer who called out to her. She hobbles off on one leg and the officers go to give chase but stop at the sight of him.

“Help.” The Spectre groans out and the officers rush to take the weight off his back. He takes a weary step and collapses onto the floor of the dance floor with a heavy slap. Every breath hurts. He wants to just go to sleep right now but he can’t, the police are here. He waits for the cuffs but they never come. He turns to see the officers, both of them, stuck holding up the couple, muscles straining.

Weaker than a fifteen year old kid, how embarrassing. He holds back the chuckle as he stands and draws himself up to his full height. Cloak hiding his limbs. He reaches out and plucks the radio from the officers shoulder. “Send more men,” he rasps in his ‘big boy voice’ “these two need a hand.” He drops the radio and lets it dangle. He nods to the officers. “Doing a bang up job.” With that he turns and walks away.

“Wait!”

“Hey! Come on!”

The Spectre says nothing, it’s vain and a bit disgusting, but he needs to get away too. Too many questions and technically he is breaking the law. The boys in blue can handle this for a few more minutes while he gets away. He hopes. He limps back through the dance hall toward the spinning lights of the cop car outside.

“Tara,” he rasps, “back up in coming?”

“Looking through traffic cameras James, they’ll be there in two minutes.” She sighs as he lowers himself into the Spectre Kart, favouring his bad leg.

“I’ll be gone in one.”
The Spectre - Rabbit Dance By Mr UnDisclosed
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Happy Easter 2015 by ralphbear
Happy Easter 2015
Popped up online and seen this from :iconkecomaster:
Happy Easter 2015 by kecomaster

And was had to inform Mad Rabbit about this, she was naturally miffed and came to visit Keco in his "Hugh Hefner" Robe and bubble pipe.

Mad Rabbit and Art :iconralphbear:

Keco :iconkecomaster:

Past Mad Rabbit and Keco's Easter Interactions 
Happy Easter 2012 by kecomaster
Happy Easter 2013 by kecomaster
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deviantID

ralphbear
Maurice A. Dixon Jr.
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United States
Hi I'm Ralph Bear (Maurice A. Dixon Jr.) And I'm The Artist And Writer and Insanne Creator of this Gallery You see here. Come on by, Comment and Be Merry.

Thank you and PEACE OUT!

Current Residence: Millington, Tennessee
Favourite genre of music: pop, J-anime, pop, R&B, and 80's tunes
Favourite photographer: Anyone with A Very Noir Quality
Favourite style of art: B&W, Noir, Grim and Gritty, Anime and American Cartoons
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: PSP, DMX Mp3 Player
Shell of choice: MY HARD HEAD (Still Unscratched)
Wallpaper of choice: Any kickass superhero, Wrestlers, Noir
Skin of choice: BLACK AND GRIZZLY!
Favourite cartoon character: Spiderman, Goku, Yusuke, Mario, Sonic, Scott Pilgrim, and The Three Stooges (B4 Derita)
Personal Quote: THE PEACE GLADIATOR
Interests

Spectre Vs Jeff The Killer (Chapter 3 UP)

Journal Entry: Sun Feb 8, 2015, 6:50 PM
CHAPTER 3 (Audio Drama Version) Or for some :iconlordcoyote: fans The First vocal debut of Morgana. Yaaaaay!

MORGANA-165 by lordcoyote
soundcloud.com/ralphbear25/the…

The Spectre Vs Jeff The Killer Being Made into an Audio Drama

Created By. 


Maurice Dixon Jr. :iconralphbear: =
Original Idea/Summary, Creator of The Spectre and Tara, Audio Mixer (Chapter 2 Through The Rest)


Lordcoyote :iconlordcoyote: =  
Writer, Creator of Rave The Awesome Magic Hero Girl, Morgana, and Artist of this title card and visuals for Chapter 1's Video (COMING SOON)

PastaMaster  www.youtube.com/user/PastaMast…  =
Audio Mixer for Chapter 1, 1st Voice of The Narrator

Charriii5 :iconcharriii-5: =
Voice of The Spectre/James Jordan, 2nd Voice of The Narrator


The Spectre vs Jeff The Killer PROMO by ralphbear

CHAPTER 1 

soundcloud.com/ralphbear25/the…



CHAPTER 2


soundcloud.com/ralphbear25/the…



CHAPTER 3


soundcloud.com/ralphbear25/the…

-------------------------------- CHAPTER 1 CREDITS ---------------------------------------

CAST
Pastamaster115  www.youtube.com/user/PastaMast…  as Narrator

Barnanbas Deimos www.youtube.com/user/blackcoll…;  as Jeff The Killer and Detective Hogan

Xiki-Muffin :iconxaiyu:  as Traci Hogan/Rave, Gizmo, and Summer


--------------------------------- CHAPTER 2 CREDITS ------------------------------------------

CAST
Charriii5 :iconcharriii-5: -   Narrator, and James Jordan/The Spectre

Xaiyu-Chan :iconxaiyu: -   Tara Trent, Traci Hogan/Rave, and Summer

Barnabas Deimos www.youtube.com/user/blackcoll…  - Detective Hogan (Traci's Dad)

MUSIC
Yu Yu Hakusho Unreleased Soundtrack #13 

Myuu - Cold Shiver

Myuu - Countdown

Detective Conan (Case Closed) OST - Depressing Sunset - Katsuo Ono

Detective Conan (Case Closed OST - The Culprit's Hideout - Katsuo Ono

SOUND EFFECTS
Various Youtube Videos

Hanna-Barbera Sound Library


-------------------------------- CHAPTER 3 CREDITS -----------------------------------


CAST
Xaiyu-chan = Morgana, Tara Trent

Charriii5 = James Jordan/The Spectre, Narrator

MUSIC

Myuu - Living in The Dark

Detective Conan OST 2 - Case Clarification - Katsuo Ono

Detective Conan OST 2 - Deduction - Katsuo Ono

Detective Conan OST 2 - The Culprit's Hideout (Creeping in Ver.) - Katsuo Ono

SOUNDS
Various Youtube Sources

Hanna Barbera Sound Library

Halloween I-II Jump Scare Music


------------------------------------------------------

Tell me what you guys think.



  • Mood: Joy
  • Listening to: Yu Yu Hakusho - Homework Never Ends
  • Reading: My Mental Notes
  • Watching: Gone Girl
  • Playing: Wish I Play One Piece Unlimited World Red IN PEACE
  • Eating: Nothing....YET
  • Drinking: Mt. Dew and Dr. Pepper

Shoutbox

Mikey2288:iconmikey2288:
love your work
Thu Aug 14, 2014, 5:26 PM
ogamashu
eshonen.deviantart.com/journal…
Thu Mar 13, 2014, 4:02 PM
SneakyAlbatross:iconsneakyalbatross:
TANKS FOUR THE FAVOUR ITE.... *shouts* ..... hi
Thu Jan 3, 2013, 12:45 AM
Frogwalker:iconfrogwalker:
KWAN-TSU DUDES!!! :headbang:
Thu Dec 13, 2012, 2:57 AM
Xanafar:iconxanafar:
Thanks for the watch :3
Mon Nov 26, 2012, 4:14 AM
ShiftyMcGearJam
thanks for dat fav
Wed Mar 7, 2012, 9:43 PM
LordOmegaZ:iconlordomegaz:
SCARLETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! <33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
Fri Dec 16, 2011, 6:16 PM
FunkyJupiter:iconfunkyjupiter:
Thank you for the Favorite!
Thu Oct 20, 2011, 4:44 PM
ralphbear:iconralphbear:
Ralph Bear Going to take a nap. Peace
Mon Oct 4, 2010, 10:13 PM
ralphbear:iconralphbear:
Ralph Bear Going to take a nap. Peace
Mon Oct 4, 2010, 10:10 PM
Nobody

Comments


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:iconsomeboy101:
Someboy101 Featured By Owner 5 days ago
Sup, dude. How are you? :)
Reply
:iconcarminesavastano:
carminesavastano Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015
Hey man,have you ever heard about an indian film called "Khiladiyon Ka Khiladi"?
Reply
:iconralphbear:
ralphbear Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
the one with Underfaker in it? yeah, why?
Reply
:iconcarminesavastano:
carminesavastano Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015
I would like to know if one day are you going to make a review about it.
Reply
:iconralphbear:
ralphbear Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I'll keep it in mind
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