Lunatics Radio Hour
The history of horror and the horror of history.
Lunatics Radio Hour
Lunatics Library 48 - Superhero Horror Stories
We are thrilled to present three superhero horror stories.
Interminable was written by Warren Benedetto and performed by Mike Macera.
Heffalumps and Ozzles was written by Nikki Blakey and performed by Sara Luke, follow Sara on IG at @saraluke25.
The Undertaker was written and performed by Denali Bartell.
Join the discussion on Discord. Check out Abby's book Horror Stories. Available in eBook and paperback. Music by Michaela Papa, Alan Kudan & Jordan Moser. Poster Art by Pilar Keprta @pilar.kep.
Join our discord for more information on Horror Book Club.
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Hello everybody and welcome back to another episode of the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast. My name is Abbey Brinker and I am sitting here with Alan Kudan.
Speaker 2:Hello.
Speaker 1:And today we are so excited to have another Lunatics Library episode, this time featuring three terrifying, quite dark superhero horror stories.
Speaker 2:I'm very excited. As we know, I do enjoy a good superhero horror story. Before we jump into the stories, I do want to say because, like you know, this feels very much like listening to audiobooks yes, and while, like you know, editing these to get ready to listen to it reminded me that I've actually listened to an entire book series about superhero horror. Tell us more that we have not yet addressed on this episode.
Speaker 1:What a glaring omission.
Speaker 2:I know I'm sorry I have talked about it on this podcast, because I talk about only the same five things again and again.
Speaker 1:Diablo.
Speaker 2:Diablo Godzilla.
Speaker 1:What's the series?
Speaker 2:This series is called X Heroes by Peter Clines.
Speaker 1:I remember you talking about this.
Speaker 2:Go ahead and explain then.
Speaker 1:It's like X-Men, right, or there's like a school, and they all have powers.
Speaker 2:Not even close.
Speaker 1:You're thinking, you really got thrown by the expert. Yeah, go ahead. Why don't you explain it?
Speaker 2:it's x here because ex-heroes it's.
Speaker 2:It's your ex-partners former heroes former lovers honestly that's a common issue with superhero stuff is just horrible. Horrible naming conventions when done for novels Inside the Marvel or DC or actually comic space. Most of the clever superhero names or teams or overall franchises or not franchises but superhero organizations these monoliths of Marvel and DC have been coming up with these exact things for going on 100 years now, and so the good ones are already taken and so a lot of these things like just get really stupid names for no other reason of like. Instead of a think tank, it's just one guy writing his book.
Speaker 1:Okay, so tell us about X.
Speaker 2:Anyways, x Heroes the name comes from the title X Humans, because that's their name for zombies, and this is a zombie apocalypse set in a superhero universe.
Speaker 1:Oh, that's cool.
Speaker 2:It's very cool. I highly highly recommend this series to anyone that likes. We talked about it on the zombies episode.
Speaker 1:Yeah, yeah.
Speaker 2:Anyone who likes, well, zombie, horror or superhero stories and I happen to like both. Obviously, the zombie part is the horror part, but it also brings up some really good questions that lean into the darker aspects of superheroes. You have these abilities that no one is supposed to have in the natural order of things, and if someone has the ability to create super-powered diseases, well, what if one of them launches? This is the zombie apocalypse. Right and so through the actions of you know, I'm not giving any spoilers here, so I'm not going to get into any, uh, specifics. But like, what if someone's superpowers bring on the zombie apocalypse? That's right, that's pretty bad. It's a long book series. It's like five or six books, I think, and it's it's a lot of fun. It's so interesting that this is also by Peter Clines. This is such a departure from his later works.
Speaker 1:What I don't know him.
Speaker 2:I know him mostly from the Threshold series. It's half cosmic horror, half like Scooby-Doo it out.
Speaker 1:All right, great. So without further ado, let's hop into the stories. But I will say at least two of the three stories I'm going to have a pretty strong content warning on. So we're going to start with one of those stories. I would say content warning here for discussion mention of self-harm, nothing incredibly graphic, but it is part of it. So I'm just going to put that out there. But let's roll the tape. Intervenable. Written by Warren Benedetto Red Barn White Serum.
Speaker 5:I'm sorry. The doctor said. He closed the folder containing my test results. There's nothing we can do. My voice shook as I spoke, you're you're sure do. My voice shook as I spoke, you're sure.
Speaker 5:I scanned the doctor's office as if searching for some undiscovered cure for my affliction. Can't you give me something? A shot, some pills, anything? I'm afraid not. He removed his glasses, polished them then returned them to his nose, polish them then return them to his nose. Our options are limited ethically, I'm sure you understand. I nodded, wiping at the dampness under my eyes.
Speaker 5:How much longer do I have? I wish I could say. As I stared down at my hands, I sensed the doctor's gaze shift to the razor-thin scars running down my forearms and across my wrists. I looked up at him. He quickly averted his eyes. Can I have a minute? I asked, alone, of course. Take as much time as you need. Once he was gone, I buried my face in my hands and allowed myself to cry. I had gotten exactly the answer I was expecting, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. It meant my suffering had only just begun. Take as much time as you need, he said, as if I needed more time instead of less. The sooner I could end it all the better.
Speaker 5:The sheer idiocy of humankind had sapped my will to live. At first I had tried to save them, fighting crime, stopping wars, but I was powerless to halt their inevitable self-destruction. I watched helplessly as they gorged on lies, ravenous for the empty satisfaction of hearing their own distorted fears shouted back at them only louder and meaner. They were sick, diseased. Their narcissism was a cancer. Their ignorance was a blight. It destroyed their capacity for empathy, leaving nothing but infected abscesses dripping with spite. There was no treatment, no cure. The condition was terminal. Civilization was dying, one pointless cruelty at a time. I had failed.
Speaker 5:The solution seemed simple I would take my own life. But no, no such relief was possible, not for me. I was different, special, a quote-unquote superhero. I ran my fingers along my jaw, tracing the dimpled flesh where the self-inflicted shotgun blast had ricocheted harmlessly off my face, then let them wander down to the rippled scar the noose had left around my neck. God damn it. I thought Nothing had worked. No matter how many times I tried, I simply could not die. In delivering the bad news, the doctor had confirmed what I already knew that I was somehow, impossibly, inescapably immortal. I peered out the window to the street below. I was on the 17th floor of City Hospital. It wasn't the highest floor, but I prayed that it was high enough. I lifted the sash, climbed out onto the ledge and jumped. It's worth a try, I thought as I plummeted headlong towards the rain-slicked sidewalk. What's the worst that could happen? But I already knew the answer I could live.
Speaker 1:I love this story so much because, I mean, first of all, it's by our friend, warren Benedetto, who I feel like is so talented but it does such a good job at evoking this very specific and very dark emotion in like less than four pages.
Speaker 1:And I think Warren's so good at creating these worlds and typically his stories are a little bit longer than this, but it was really cool to see the same world building, I guess with such a minimal style of storytelling, and I feel like he was equally as successful with this format. And I also love this story because so much of obviously, what we're looking at in this series is the intersection of horror and superhero content, and this is exactly that right, it raises that question and it reminds me, alan, of something that you brought just outlive, right, you can't die and you live so long that nothing is left for you, and it reminded me of that right. So it's horrifying in the short term that this guy has to live in this way, that he doesn't want to, but then think about, like in a hundred years from now or in a thousand years from now, and that's, I think, really where the horror is.
Speaker 2:So this is a trope that's been broached a number of times in comics. Yeah, it's, it's a. It's really just turns invulnerability on its head. This isn't a vulnerability, this is immortality. Really, the ability to be able to heal from any injury seems like such a blessing. Except what if you want to die? One of the main superheroes that comes to mind is going to be Wolverine. Is what if you want to die? One of the main superheroes that comes to mind is going to be Wolverine. Is he immortal? He's not immortal, but he's hundreds of years old, because his healing factor also repairs the damage done by aging.
Speaker 2:The most established death of Wolverine story was actually adapted for the Logan movie where the only reason that he dies is because he has adamantium poisoning, so like the metal in his bones eventually poisons him and he dies is because he has adamantium poisoning, so like the metal in his bones eventually poisons him and he dies. But without the metal his healing factor goes crazy and you know he can effectively live forever his kryptonite then no, because it's just double-edged sword.
Speaker 1:But isn't that?
Speaker 2:kryptonite is like the weak, the one weakness for superman, yeah no, I mean, wolverine is not invulnerable. He still gets hurt. And there's another death in Days of Future Past when he just gets blasted by a giant laser and just every little bit of him gets crispy, so he's dead. But another great example of a superhero that just wants to die is my personal favorite of Hulk. You know, and they even talk about this in the Avengers movie. Bruce Banner says they point a gun at him when he gets, all you know, no-transcript upon death. At best he awakens the Hulk Right. So it just doesn't work. He wants to die, he wants to stop hurting people, but he can't.
Speaker 1:Yeah, it's so tragic in such an unexpected way, but it makes total sense for, kind of, the mechanics of a lot of these stories. So Warren Benedetto writes dark fiction about horrible people, horrible places and horrible things. He's an award-winning author and we are mega fans of his work. He has published over 260 stories. For more, I encourage you to visit warrenbenedettocom, which we will link in the description of this episode. You can also follow him at warrenbenedetto on Twitter and Instagram. And, of course, this story was performed for us by the incredible narrator, mike Massera, who is one half of Beach Therapy, one of our favorite bands. So, mike, thank you so much for bringing this story to life in such a beautiful way as you always do. This was a great duo.
Speaker 2:Thank you Mike, thank you Warren. Please work together again.
Speaker 1:Before we roll the tape on the next one, I'm also going to give a content warning on this story. This story centers a bit around child abuse and it's about 15 minutes long, so if you'd like to skip ahead and miss this one, 15 minutes ahead will get you past it.
Speaker 6:Heffalumps and Oozles, read by Nikki Blakely. Read by Sarah Luke, let out a screeching wail oh my boy, my boy, whatever will I do without my boy? Yeah, yeah, do it. Just like that, said the Oozle named Carl. Maybe throw in something about how much you love him. Gina began wailing again oh my boy, my boy, I do love him. So Please find him and bring him home safe. Her pudgy pink hand reached up and gave her nose another light smack. The boy she was fake crying about was David, though she called him dipshit. He'd run away the night before, and now Mrs Rabinowitz, the foster care lady, was coming.
Speaker 6:Sammy sat v-legged on the dirty carpet with her back to them, staring at the television where colored images flickered and danced on the screens. But she wasn't watching the cartoons. Sometimes the screen would darken and she'd glimpse Gina and Carl in the reflection. It was them she was watching. Hufflepuffs and Oozles were very, very dangerous. Pooh had told her, and she must be watched very, very carefully. And Pooh never lied.
Speaker 6:Sammy clutched the stuffed bear toy tightly to her side and the smaller piglet toy lay on the floor in front of her. The three of them watched and listened. It would be nice if you could get another one like her. Carl said, and Sammy could feel the weight of his eyes on her. She didn't like to be looked at. Try to make yourself small, piglet said. If you try to make yourself small, no one will notice you. Look how small I am. No one ever notices me. Piglet didn't lie either. Sammy pulled her shoulders inward and tried to shrink herself. She really don't ever talk. Carl asked Not a word, not a peep, except for the one time she took to screaming when I tried to take those ugly old dolls away from her. You better believe I gave her something to scream about after that.
Speaker 6:She deaf Nah, she ain't deaf. She can hear just fine. She just don't talk. Why you think that is? I don't fucking know, carl. Maybe she ain't got nothing to say? Who gives a shit?
Speaker 6:Gina heaved herself from the sofa with a grunt and thumped towards the kitchen. Aren't you the one that gave her that haircut? Makes her look like a boy. No, I did not give her that haircut. It was on her head when they first brung her. Now it's time for you to get that. Social service lady says she's coming at 2, but she might show up early. They like to do that, thinking they're going to catch you at something, and you know you ain't allowed to be around children, so you best be gone before she gets here. If they don't give me another dipshit, I'm going to be out $348 a month. I told you it was an accident. You just hope no one finds out about your little accident. If they do. I don't know nothing about it Now, you, I don't know nothing about it. Now, get yourself gone.
Speaker 6:Sammy was sad David had run away and, even sadder, he hadn't taken her with him. They were a team, didn't he say so? And she had liked having a brother, even if it was just a foster. She remembered another brother once, a long time ago, but his name wasn't David. It was something that started with J, Johnny, joey, jerry. She couldn't remember Jeremy, pooh said she remembered a mother too, and a father Real ones, not Foster's, but they were just blurry thoughts without names or faces. She thought her mother's hair had been yellow like hers. Oh yes, said Pooh, it was yellow, the color of honey, and she smelled like honey too. There were a lot of things. Sammy couldn't remember, most of anything that happened before the crash, but she was only four then, and now she was six, and maybe when she was seven and all grown up, she would remember everything. Some things are best not remembered, said Piglet and Pooh agreed.
Speaker 6:Sammy and David had shared a bedroom, two stained mattresses butted up against walls on opposite sides of the small room, each with a thin blanket and a flattened pillow. Above David's bed, colored glossy pages torn from the covers of comic books, their edges ragged and curling, hung scotch tape from the walls. David was just a small boy but looked like an old man, with wispy brown hair combed over to one side and glasses with thick lenses that made his eyes look three times as bigger than they were. On her first night there, david had caught Sammy staring wide-eyed at the pictures taped above his bed A man with a sharp jutting jaw, bulging muscles and pitch-black eyes from which shafts of red light flowed outward. Next to him stood a boy with a head shaped like a mushroom, surrounded by an orange incandescent glow.
Speaker 6:That's Plutonium Joe and his sidekick Atom Bomb, said David. They got their superpowers on account of an accident at a nuclear power plant. Before that, they were just trusty workers doing their jobs, and then one day, wham pow, nuclear explosion. Now they can shoot radioactive laser beams from their eyes Pew, pew, pew and they kick with atomic force Bam, bam Bam. David had tied the arms of a light blue hoodie around his neck and hung it off his back like a cape.
Speaker 6:Plutonium Joe and Adam Bomb fight for justice, freedom and the safety of all. They're the good guys and they fight the bad guys. David narrowed his eyes at Sammy Are you a good guy? She shrank back to the corner of her bed and pulled the blanket up around her neck. I said, screamed, david, are you a good guy?
Speaker 6:Heavy footsteps thumped down the hallway and the door swung open, slamming against the wall. Gina's face was twisted in a knot of anger. What the holy hell is going on in here? Who's doing all that screaming? I know it ain't that one. She don't say squat, so it must be you dipshit.
Speaker 6:Gina grabbed David by the elbow, dragged him over to the bed and threw him down. It's after seven. That means bedtime. I don't want to hear no more noise out of you. Not so much as a fart Got it. Her large round face loomed inches from David's and he nodded slowly. If you need a pee, you use the bucket, and if it's the other, you wait till morning.
Speaker 6:Gina flicked the light off, pulled the door closed and they heard the hard click of the lock. David laid there staring at the ceiling. Sammy wondered if he might cry. She would have. It's okay if you can't talk. David whispered, there's things I can't do either. I can't run fast, I can't see good, I always break things. But you want to know a secret. I'm special and maybe you're special too. And if you're special it means you're one of the good guys, just like me and Plutonium Joe. My superhero name is David the Destroyer. You can be my sidekick. You're gonna need a superhero name. He was quiet for a moment, thinking I know you can be Sammy the Silent. We're gonna need a secret handshake.
Speaker 6:As soon as Gina saw Mrs Rabinowitz's car pull into the driveway, her pudgy pink hand shot out and gave her nose a soft smack and she began crying and moaning, just as she had practiced. Oh my boy, where can he be? Lord, please bring him home safe and sound. Miss Kirkland, are you okay? May I come in? Mrs Rabinowitz said through the door Course. I ain't okay. Gina wiped the fake tears from her eyes. My boy's gone and I'm beside myself with grief and worry.
Speaker 6:Gina opened the door, but Mrs Rabinowitz didn't move. What's that? Mrs Rabinowitz asked, pointing at something. Oh, that's a lock. So when I need to run out to the grocery or a quick errand, I don't need to worry about the kids getting out. You know, this ain't the first time David runned away. Only the other times I was able to catch him and bring him back, not the first time. That was never reported to us. Why not? Like I said, I catched him and brung him back. Uh-huh. And how often do you leave the kids alone in this house? Like I said, only if I need to run to the grocery. Mrs Rabinowitz frowned, then stepped past Gina into the darkened trailer.
Speaker 6:Hello, samantha, and how are you? Sammy, sitting at the kitchen table hunched over a bowl of cereal, looked up, sammy. What happened to your face, gina? What happened to her face? Mrs Rabinowitz rushed over to Sammy and turned her head from side to side. She just had a little fall, nothing to worry about. Her and David playing superheroes. You know kids. Uh-huh. Is that what really happened? If you don't believe me, go ask her yourself. Gina said smugly Go on, sammy, tell her what happened. But Sammy wasn't listening to them anymore. She was busy staring at Mrs Rabinowitz's shoe Not at her shoe exactly, but at the thing underneath it A small yellow card with the words Tahoma County Public Library stamped on it. Okay, gina, never mind about Samantha, let's talk about David. Mrs Rabinowitz sat down at the table and pulled a pen and notebook from her bag. When was the last time you saw him? This is where I keep my superhero toolbox, david had said, pulling a small red plastic purse from underneath his pillow. Everything in here has a special power. He dumped the contents out in the bed A plutonium Joe figurine, a book of matches from Save More Liquors, a small polished black stone and a bright yellow library card.
Speaker 6:That night, instead of going to sleep, sammy and David had stayed up reading comic books. Sammy didn't know what time it was, but it must have been very late. The television sounds from the living room had stopped long ago. Want to see how this works? David held up the library card. Sammy nodded. He walked over to the bedroom door, slid the card at an angle into the crack of the door next to the doorknob, pushed it down, then slowly turned the doorknob. The door opened. Want to see it again? He asked quietly, pulling the door closed again. Sammy nodded and he did it a second time. I think old Gina's finally asleep. He said I'll be right back. He slipped out the door, closing it behind him.
Speaker 6:Sammy worried about what might happen if he got caught. She looked back to the items spread out on the bed. The Plutonium Joe figurine was missing a foot. The polished black rock glimmered in the moonlight from the bed. The Plutonium Joe figurine was missing a foot. The polished black rock glimmered in the moonlight from the window. The book of matches had one match left. She wondered what superpowers these other treasures held.
Speaker 6:The door creaked open and in crept, david smiling. Before closing the door he made sure to press the button on the other side so it locked again. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a napkin, and wrapped inside was a chocolate chip cookie. He broke it and handed half to Sammy. I sneak out all the time after Gina goes to sleep. He told her it's one of my superpowers. You want to try?
Speaker 6:He held the card towards Sammy, but she thought again of getting caught and shook her head. I already told you what happened, gina said I put them to bed at seven, just like always. I didn't hear nothing from them all night. When I went to wake them up in the morning the boy was gone. Samantha, do you know where David might have gone? Mrs Rabinowitz's eyes pleaded with Sammy. But even if she knew anything, she couldn't tell Mrs Rabinowitz she was Sammy. The Silent Not talking was her superpower. Anyhow, she didn't know where David had gone. She knew he'd sneaked out with the library card again, only this time it wasn't for cookies, it was to run away. Oh bother, said Pooh. I like David, maybe someday he'll come back. Silly old bear, said Piglet. He's left us, just like the mother and the father and the brother from before. We filed a missing person report and hopefully he'll be found soon. He couldn't have gotten far. Mrs Rabinowitz gathered her things from the table and Gina walked her to the door. When Sammy was sure no one was looking, she picked the library card up from the floor and slid it into her back pocket.
Speaker 6:That night the Oozle named Carl came back. His words slurred together as he talked and he wobbled a bit as he walked. Sammy was glad when Gina finally locked her in her room for the night, just so she could get away from his staring. She lay on David's bed where the light from the window was the brightest and thumbed through his comic books. She couldn't read all the words, but could figure out what was happening from the pictures. She closed her eyes and imagined her and David flying through the air, their capes fluttering behind them, and drifted off. She woke suddenly to the sharp sound of the lock turning and the door opening. A figure loomed over her, but it wasn't Gina. It was someone taller, thinner. And Now don't be afeard. The words stumbled from his mouth and ran into each other it's only me, carl.
Speaker 6:Gina went to the store for beer, so I thought I'd check on you. See if you were asleep yet, are you? He sat down in the bed next to Sammy and touched the back of her head. Sammy froze. You know, you're a funny little girl. You don't talk. You got a boy's name and a boy's haircut. Are you even a girl? Maybe I should have a peek to make sure.
Speaker 6:Carl lifted the blanket and Sammy unfroze. She flailed her arms and kicked her legs, but the oozle was strong. Now was not the time to be silent, now was the time to scream. Carl's hand clamped down over her mouth and bite him, said poo, bite. The oozle. Bite him. Bite, bite, bite, said piglet. Sammy bit hard. Ow. Carl jumped up. You dirty little shit. You bit me. Look, I'm bleeding. He held up his hand. You better watch it or something might happen to you. Just like your little friend, I got another 10-gallon barrel drum, just like the one I stuffed him into.
Speaker 6:Carl slunk from the room, slamming the door, and Sammy heard that all-too-familiar click of the lock. She lay still until the pounding in her chest slowed. She heard Gina come home, heard her and Carl's muted voices over the buzz from the television, heard the hiss of a beer can being opened and another and another. After a while their voices grew quieter, less frequent, until finally they stopped altogether. All Sammy could hear was the low drone of the TV.
Speaker 6:Sammy got up, walked over to David's bed and lifted the pillow, knowing what she was going to find the small red plastic purse, david's treasures. She looked inside. The Plutonium Joe figurine was there, and everything else. Everything except the library card. Oh bother, said Pooh. David forgot his treasures. Maybe he'll come back for them. Silly old bear, said Piglet, he's not coming back, not ever. She knew then David hadn't run away at all. Something bad had happened to him, something very, very bad, and it was the Oozle Carl who did it.
Speaker 6:Sammy pulled David's blue hoodie from the floor, put it on, zipped it and stuffed poo and piglet inside next to her stomach, then tucked the bottom into her shorts so they wouldn't fall out. She grabbed the remaining treasures and crammed them into the jacket pockets, feeling something gritty in the corners of the pockets Cookie crumbs. She put her ear against the door, listening. Then she pulled the library card from her pocket and slid it into the crack of the door and turned the doorknob, just as she'd watched David do so many times. Before Easing the door open, she crept into the hallway careful, oh so careful not to make a sound, but it wasn't hard. She was Sammy the Silent. After all.
Speaker 6:Gina lay belly down on the couch asleep. Carl lay sprawled out on the floor. Sammy tiptoed past them, opened the front door, stepped out into the darkness and closed the door behind her. It was then that she noticed the lock, the one that Gina had put on the outside of the door. Sammy stretched, but she couldn't quite reach. On the opposite side of the porch sat a large stack of newspapers tied with a piece of twine. She pulled them over to the door, climbed on top, then reached up and slid the lock into place. It was the first time she'd ever been on the other side of that sound. She pushed her hands into the pockets of the jacket, wondering which one of David's treasures she could use next, when fingers closed on the matchbook and her eyes fell to the bundle of newspapers in front of the door Burn, it said Pooh, burn, it said Piglet. Burn, it said Plutonium. Joe and Sammy struck the match.
Speaker 2:It took me way too long into listening to realize that we were actually talking about Winnie the Pooh characters.
Speaker 1:Well, I wasn't super familiar with. Obviously I am now because of this story, but I didn't grow up with like watching Winnie the Pooh, Like I know who Winnie the Pooh is.
Speaker 2:Yeah, he's the big yellow bear.
Speaker 1:But I didn't know about, like the H, hufflumps yeah, the hufflumps are integral I knew about the puffalumps what's a puffalump? Those are stuffed animals from the 90s oh god no but I didn't, if you want true horror? Look up puffalump no, but I didn't know about the hufflumps.
Speaker 2:Okay, so tell us what you thought of the story uh, it seems more of like this is a psychotic coping mechanism.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:As opposed to actual abilities, Like do you think she's really seeing these things?
Speaker 1:Yeah, I think if you are in a situation where you are being abused, especially as a child, you dissociate, you have moments of seeing things. I think all of this is true from the child's perspective. Yes.
Speaker 1:And I love how it translates something like the powers of a superhero into something that feels that is horrifying in a real world way, and I think there's a lot of power in that in this story. I find this story to be incredibly effective. I think it conjures a scene that's so dark and difficult to sit with and then gives us such a satisfying and liberating ending, and I love it for that.
Speaker 2:It really reminded me of we haven't seen the Boys.
Speaker 1:No.
Speaker 2:One of the antagonists in the Boys. His name is Black Noir. You know he never speaks. He's kind of like the brooding Batman type character but he never. You know he never speaks and you find out much later into the series of why. And that's because he has heavy, heavy brain damage. And when we finally go from his perspective he sees a bunch of animated cartoon characters walking him through all these like horrific, murderous things that he's doing.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:But it's that kind of vibe. It's the juxtaposition between happy childhood, go-lucky characters and telling you to commit horrible acts of violence.
Speaker 1:Well, I think these are not happy child. In neither case are these happy, go-lucky childhood characters. These are children that are forced into horrifying situations.
Speaker 2:No, no, I'm saying what she sees.
Speaker 1:Oh, like the Hufflepuffs. Yes, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, sure, yes, right, and yes, I agree with you. Yeah, totally yeah, I love this story and this is from a writer who we've never featured on the podcast before, so I want to take a second to tell you a little bit about Nikki Lynn Blakely, who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Nikki enjoys. Her work has appeared in Uncharted Sundial Magazine, bright Flash, literary Review, luna Station Quarterly and many more. Her works also appeared in the following anthologies Between the Covers 72 Hours of Insanity, v9, writer Games, dim and Flaring Lamps and the podcast Telltale TV in the Gallery of Curiosities. So definitely check those out if you'd like to explore more of her work. You can also read more at NikkiBlakelycom, which, of course, we will link, and follow her at nblakely99 on Twitter.
Speaker 2:I really like this story. I think it fit right in with the series and I look forward to hearing more from her.
Speaker 1:Yeah, I'm a real big fan of this piece and I'm excited and hope that Nikki submits more. And, of course, this story was narrated for us by Sarah Luke, our dear friend, sarah Luke, longtime friend of Lunatics. You can follow Sarah Luke on Instagram at Sarah Luke 25. And, of course, we will link that as well below. Sarah has such a beautiful narration voice and I think it brought the story to life in a perfect way for this I agree.
Speaker 2:And I think we have one last story to round it out. We have one last story.
Speaker 1:Let's roll the tape story to round it out. We have one last story.
Speaker 3:Let's roll the tape. The Undertaker Ren and Ren by Denali Martell.
Speaker 4:And three, two, one. The redhead with the clipboard counted down the seconds on stubby fingers, you're on. Gianni took a deep breath, shaking out his shoulders. The stagehand looked at him curiously. Are you nervous? If I was, would you hold it against me? He laughed.
Speaker 4:The kid grinned, scruffy eyebrows arching high on his freckled forehead. No, it's just. He blushed, beet red, clutching his clipboard tighter. You're, you know you. Everyone has their weakness. Gianni smiled, flipping the cumbersome cape over one shoulder. Yeah, I guess. I mean, I never thought I'd get the chance to meet someone like you. I've always lived here.
Speaker 4:And this the boys' gushing faded into white noise as Gianni's attention shifted to the stage door. And with that, please put your hands together for our hometown hero, the Undertaker. Blinding flashes flickered in Gianni's periphery as he stepped onto the plywood stage and shook the proffered hands, working his way down the line until he stood behind the podium. He gripped the edges between white-knuckled fingers and slowly raised his head, taking in the sea of upturned faces. Thank you for coming out today. He glanced down at the note card someone had arranged neatly for him. I hear traffic on the I-75 is no joke.
Speaker 4:A polite handful of chuckles barely graced the lips of the horde before a deluge of questions poured forth. Is it true that the Piranha nearly had you on the ropes? Well, I wouldn't say. Were you able to find out where the clan will strike next? We don't know for sure, but our team is working on a strategy to identify threats. Before A woman in a blue suit shoved her way to the front of the crowd, thrusting a microphone towards his face. The people of New Jersey want to know how do you plan to address the accusations that your missions cause more harm than good to our community? Gianni laughed, feeling the sound trickle down his throat like poison. Uh, undertaker, were you aware that one in ten people think your actions against the Piranha were unnecessarily violent?
Speaker 4:Gianni glanced at the gap in the stage door, catching a glimpse of his harried publicist. Uh, that's an interesting question, Undertaker. Now that the Incinerator has retired, will you be taking over his position as head of the board'. Gianni began scratching the inside of his wrist through the sleeve of his suit. "'that will be a question for the acting head, carter Br—' "'What will be done with the piranha's remains? "'will they be studied or buried'. Gianni began to scratch harder, tugging at the stiff spandex. "'i'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. He glanced back at his sweaty publicist, violently motioning him towards the exit. Are there any further? Undertaker, would you care to elaborate on the statement you made after your last press? Undertaker, what do you think? Undertaker, did you? Undertaker, undertaker, undertaker?
Speaker 4:Gianni's eyes glazed over, drifting from the clamoring mass of reporters to the poster on his right, plastered over an image of a hulking man in a tattered wetsuit. Was the word Conquered? He studied the gills that peeked out from his high collar, tracked the faint shimmer of scales at his wrists and temples and scratched his own wrist harder. No more questions. The voice of Jace, his publicist, snapped Gianni out of his reverie. He felt arms clap around his shoulders, hauling him toward the stage door. Thanks so much for ah, fuck it, that was a fucking bloodbath. What did I tell you about answering a question with a question?
Speaker 4:Jace paced the length of the small trailer. It's like you don't listen to a word I say. You'd think I was the worst goddamn publicist in the solar system. He stopped in front of Gianni, fixing him with a hard stare, which I am not. He wiped his narrow forehead further, dislodging his already slipping toupee. I know for a fact that publicists on Mars are criminally undertrained.
Speaker 4:Gianni stared down at his hands, digging a nail into the inside of his wrist. Jace paused halfway to the bedroom and glanced at him, frowning Gee, are you getting any of this? Gianni startled shaking his head and tugging his sleeve down. Yeah, jace, I got it. Jace palmed his forehead and stalked over, gripping him by the biceps.
Speaker 4:Hey, hey, listen to me, you are the fucking Undertaker. Why are you letting these idiots push you around? Huh, he clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in until their foreheads touched. You are the champion of the USA. You did what no one else could do. He poked a finger into Gianni's chest, lowering his voice. You cut off the fucking snake's head. Yeah, jace leaned back, patting his cheek gently. The army, the feds, the fucking marines they didn't know what the fuck to do. But you. You came out of Dallas like a fucking messiah and clocked not one, not two he counted on his fingers but three grade-A supervillains.
Speaker 4:Gianni grimaced yeah, jace, I no, no, you don't know. G? Jace groaned, pacing back across the trailer. If you knew, you wouldn't be letting the paparazzi make a fool out of you on your fucking victory lap. Gianni chafed his wrist against the side of his pant leg. I know, man, I'm sorry. Jace's expression softened. Don't apologize to me, okay, I don't like it when you do that, okay, uh, I'm sorry. I said don't fucking do that, okay. Jace's stern expression cracked a smile, lifting the corners of his lips. Here, just. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and passed it over awkwardly Drink this. Gianni. Took the bottle. I'll see you in ten for the fan meet and greet.
Speaker 4:Jace walked to the door then paused, hand on the knob. Give yourself some credit, kid. You took out a metal man, a bitch with wings and some motherfucker with teeth the size of your hands, and you haven't got a scratch on you. Kids your age, with no powers and half your brains, walk around acting like they're invincible. Well, you actually are. So fucking, act like it. The door slammed shut behind Jace and Gianni hung his head. He unscrewed the water bottle and turned the cap over between his thumb and forefinger. He sighed, screwed it back on and tossed the bottle aside. The sound of Jace's voice filtered from behind the trailer door. Yeah, he's just taking a minute, he's good.
Speaker 4:Gianni stood and walked toward the bedroom, pulling back the door, only to reveal that the quilt was covered in gift baskets and swag bags. He groaned and sat in the one empty corner. No, he's fine, I told you. Gianni slid the door shut, muffling the conversation. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and pulled back the sleeve of his suit to reveal a patch of scales bursting from beneath the reddened skin of his inner wrist. He winced, running a tentative finger over the iridescent flecks. They sparkled in the dim light, like so many sharpened daggers.
Speaker 4:He reached for the hem of his top and pulled it over his head. The fabric slid past his shoulders, revealing the tips of fins arching along his elbows in rough ridges that broke the skin. Scales freckled the back of his neck, cresting the nubs of wings that punched through throbbing wounds on his shoulder blades. He stretched and a few ebony feathers peeled themselves from the festering gashes soaked in blood and pus. Twisted metal molded a path down his spine, curling and weaving across his back in a patchwork of scarred flesh and steel Bruises stained his skin, a kaleidoscope of colors blooming from the jagged sets of tooth marks mangling nearly every inch of his torso. He let his shirt slip from his fingers to the floor. Fine, he muttered. Gianni is fine.
Speaker 4:He stood, slowly clearing the baskets and totes from the bedspread and slid the mattress aside. Beneath the wooden slots of the frame, neat rows of boxes were arranged end to end, each labeled in thick black letters. He brushed his fingers over the tote labeled GARGOIL, filled with a handful of black feathers and, man OF STEEL, with a vial of silver liquid encased in styrofoam. He pulled a black bag from the corner, where it lay tucked against the headboard, and took a pair of pliers and a plastic bag from the inner pocket. Carefully, he clamped the pliers onto a single scale and tugged.
Speaker 4:There was a knock at the door and Jace's voice cut through the silence Gianni. Gianni ignored the summons, gripping the pliers harder and twisting. The tiny protrusion clung to his body, loathed to let go. Gee, come on, kid. Gianni gave the pliers a final yank and the scale pulled free, ripping a chunk of skin away with it. He hissed in pain as blood began to trickle down his arm. Shit. He opened the small bag and dropped the scale inside, zipping it shut. Are you asleep? There's no time for a nap.
Speaker 4:Gianni dropped the plastic bag into an empty box labeled Piranha and replaced the pliers, sliding the mattress back into place. Give me a minute, jace, I'm coming. He reached for his shirt, quickly slipping it back on. I've got five minutes to get you in the tent or a bunch of snot-nosed toddlers will have my head. Gianni shook out his shoulders and closed his eyes. Gianni's fine, I'm fine. He exhaled a shaky breath and reached for the door. His hand met the cool brass of the knob and slipped right off. Gee, get your ass out here. He took another long breath, trying to settle his quickening pulse, and reached again for the handle. Again, his hand refused to close, sliding uselessly off the metal handle. It felt slippery, slimy. A shudder ran down his spine and the flightless wings at his back fluttered with unease. Ran down his spine and the flightless wings at his back fluttered with unease. Slowly, gianni opened his eyes and raised his hand to his face. Each finger was glued to the next, swallowed in a web of bluish skin. A fin, gianni screamed.
Speaker 1:This story was written and narrated by Denali Bartel, who, of course, as always, did such a lovely job for this episode, and it was really cool to be able to feature some of Denali's work on the podcast in this way. I think this is the first time that we have a story written by Denali to share.
Speaker 2:Also, denali really hit the nail on the head with the true horror of superheroes and that is politics and press images. Just getting scrutinized by the press is a trope that's becoming more and more popular because we try to juxtapose superheroes into our modern society and it just doesn't fly. No pun intended, because, yeah, these people act outside the law and they. You know you can't make everyone happy, but you kind of have to because the idea of bad press is unthinkable.
Speaker 1:Yeah, absolutely. I mean it is something you see a lot, especially with Batman, but I'm sure with other series too, and you know X-Men or whatever.
Speaker 2:You really should watch the Boys. Okay, it's perfect. Superhero horror.
Speaker 1:Okay.
Speaker 2:So you know I'm going to pitch you on this real quick.
Speaker 1:Okay, tell me. I'm not going to watch it, but tell me.
Speaker 2:So the premise of the Boys is that there's superheroes.
Speaker 1:Yeah, you know and they're boys.
Speaker 2:No, oh, it's kind of like a simulacrum for the Justice League.
Speaker 1:OK.
Speaker 2:They're called the seven and you know they save the world and keep everyone safe, but they're really just a bunch of corporate puppets and all the saving that they do is orchestrated, because they're really just horrible, horrible people, because they're effectively living gods and they don't have to answer anyone except their corporate overlords. For them, press events and approval ratings and merch sales are everything Fascinating, and so the boys are just a group of everyday people that say we've had enough and try really hard to kill them.
Speaker 1:Oh, that's kind of a fun premise. It's so fun and try really hard to kill them.
Speaker 2:Oh that's kind of a fun premise, it's so fun.
Speaker 1:I actually think the Undertaker, who is the obviously the main character here, is a bit more sympathetic than that right. He's clearly less tied up in his image as his manager is.
Speaker 2:Well, but that's where the horror comes in. He's trying to, you know, clean up the streets but you know you can't make it on without breaking some eggs. That's his tagline and that's why you know other superhero mythos have like licensed heroes, people that have gone through training to minimize casualties. If you're trying to destroy the rampaging robot, there's only so many safe ways to do that.
Speaker 1:Yeah, I love the story, love the ending Thought. It was really well written and it was really fun. It's always really fun for me when the narrator narrates their own story, because you sort of see it brought to life in exactly the way they envisioned it. So it was really cool to record live with Denali and to watch as they recorded their own work.
Speaker 2:And also just a little tick on a body horror at the end there.
Speaker 1:Yeah, something a little fun and juicy to kind of spice it up.
Speaker 2:Yeah, something a little fun and juicy to kind of spice it up. Yeah, you know, you never know when powers go awry.
Speaker 1:You never know. Thank you so much to all of our writers and narrators and, fun fact actually, so our three narrators today were actually all included in the audio drama that we kicked off the summer with a few episodes ago Berkey Family Vacation. So if you have not listened to that it's short, it's about five minutes I would love. If you have not listened to that it's short, it's about five minutes I would love if you would go back and listen to it. It was so fun to put together. It's very thematic for summer, so it's a perfect time to listen to it. And also, quick announcement, the series is not over yet. We are going to have one more spontaneous episode on superhero horror. What? Don't worry, alan, you have nothing to do.
Speaker 2:What do you mean? I love this series.
Speaker 1:I'm planning a solo episode. How dare you. Deep diving into the history of Spring-Heeled Jack because I could not get enough. I was so interested and there was so much more to say and I did a bunch of extra research and I was like there's a lot to share here. So one more episode coming about, Spring-Heeled Jack, and then we will pivot back into our regularly scheduled program.
Speaker 2:Yeah, Well, I'm going to do my own episode on Spring-Heeled Jack without you.
Speaker 1:Great, would love that.
Speaker 2:Not going to release it.
Speaker 1:Oh, that will be all for nothing, then, as always, thank you all so much for being here. Thank you for listening. Stay spooky, stay safe, and we'll talk to you soon. Bye, bye, bye.
