The Grudge I Cherish Most: Analog Magazine and the Birth of a Supervillain

Submitted by C B Wright on

A few days ago I saw a game on Twitter where people posted the “grudge they cherish the most.” It was fun reading—people sharing their stories of That One Guy who said something immensely insulting that stuck with them for years and years. I had a story I almost shared, but I didn’t. Why? Because it’s complicated. In many ways, it’s my origin story:

A Rake by Starlight - Chapter 25

Submitted by C B Wright on
WHEREIN Offers Are Made, And Refusal Is Not Up For Consideration

“Captain Vindh!” Yidoc Messhik, crime lord of the Tyrelos Barony and other principalities, beamed through the video link at Grif’s scowling face. More accurately, he appeared to beam, strictly by human standards, though his facial spines—an integral emotive component for every Invagi Grif had ever met—hardly so much as twitched in place. “I confess I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. On the other hand, I didn’t expect someone to try to assassinate our Baron, either.”

His smile faded slightly. “If you had any dealings in that, Captain, I’m afraid we have no business worth discussing. The Baron was very good for business, and I’ve no interest in rewarding either her brother or Lord Sonim for foolish ambition.”

The Abyss Gazes Back: Part Four

Submitted by C B Wright on
Nautilus Conference Room, Later

David Bernard sits alone in the conference room, trying to focus on the pitch-black sphere floating before him.

masHEuDH

The sphere wobbles and dips in place. The surface ripples, bulges on one side, then rights itself.

masHEuDH

The sphere dips again, then begins to drift away from him, leaving trails of black wispy smoke in its wake.

YoU mUSt frEe mE masHEuDH, YoU mUSt usE ME

The Abyss Gazes Back: Part Three

Submitted by C B Wright on
South Bronx, Morrisania

Special Agent Philip Henry has a reputation for coolness under fire. This reputation has sometimes been described in semi-flattering terms, like when one of his superiors compared him to Joe Friday from the old Dragnet radio programs. Sometimes the description is less flattering, like when one of his colleagues accused him of being a soulless, cold-hearted son of a bitch.

At the moment his reputation is being tested. As Sergeant Alishia Webb glowers at him from across the table of the sole booth in Elliot’s Diner, he fights back the urge to flinch away from her gaze.

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