THE INEXORABLE RISE OF THE NIGHT LIZARD

I talked about 'deleted scenes' a while ago, and here's my latest one. It's the original start to something I've almost finished working on, a sort-of superhero story about a vigilante who goes around beating up drunks and lowlifes in a small American town:

The man, inebriated to the point of violence, roughly dragged an attractive young lady into an alleyway. She tried to scream and cry for help but he kept slapping her into silence. “Shut up,” he snarled. “You owe me this.”

“Please…” She was barely out of her teens, dressed for summer despite the cold, brunette and petite. “Please let me go; I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

The man – himself somewhere in his thirties and with a face that was no stranger to violence – shoved her to the dirty ground and started to undo his belt buckle. “Make one more sound and I’ll kill you.”

Despite slurring half the sentence, the threat had the desired effect on the girl, who scooted back against the wall and tried not to allow the sounds of her crying to spill out into actual words. As the man leered closer she choked out: “No…”

The man’s eyes flared with rage and he grabbed a handful of her hair. “What did I just say?”

“Leave her alone.” The voice that came from the nearby shadows wasn’t deep or menacing, yet had enough force behind it to cause the man to let go of the girl.

“Who’s there?” He squinted into the darkness. “I’ll give you five seconds to f---”

The words died on his lips as someone – or something – stepped from the shadows. It was of average height and build, but covered entirely in black: black boots, black jeans, black long-sleeved top, black gloves…but the thing that made the drunk question if it was human or not was the weird head. Again, it was black but had gaps in it, a bit like a skull, but its shape was more snout-like, more…reptilian.

Remembering he was filled with alcohol (so impervious to everything) the man pushed the girl against the wall and turned to face the stranger. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“I might go easy on you,” it said, “if you let the girl go.”

“Fuck off, weirdo.” The drunk laughed to himself and returned his attention to the girl.

She uttered a shriek when the drunk cursed loudly and stumbled backwards. The man…creature…whatever he or it was…lunged for the drunk and proceeded to pummel him with its fists whilst shouting. She flinched with every hit, but couldn’t look away.

Eventually, the stranger stood up and staggered away from the drunk. He turned to the girl and said, “Have you got a phone?”

“Yes…”

“Call the police. I’ll watch over you until they arrive. Don’t worry -- you’re safe now.”

She scrambled to her feet and took a step closer to him. She could see that his ‘face’ was actually some sort of mask/helmet, under which he wore a balaclava. “Who are you?”

The stranger started to walk back into the shadows. “They call me…The Night Lizard!”

This is a little too goofy, plus the girl then describes all this in a police interview, so I've started the story with that instead. A little oddly, for a story about a costumed nutcase, he doesn't appear that often in it. With The Inexorable Rise of The Night Lizard I want to examine what it might be like if some normal guy dressed up like a superhero and existed in a 'real world' situation...whoa hang on a minute!

Yes, I know the obvious reference point is KICK-ASS (which I really enjoyed) not to mention similar films such as Defendor and the one starring the guy from The Rocker (I think it's called The Crimson Bolt), but this is that old chestnut of having come up with the idea ages ago, plus it's only a surface similarity...KICK-ASS was still comic booky (in that the hero gets a 'superpower' of dulled pain response from all his beatings, and the other characters act and fell like comic book characters - not making any kind of point, just saying). The Night Lizard is operating in a sleepy little town. What's the point of his existence? If a real superhero (or costumed vigilante) existed, there'd be no point in him hanging around some place where drunkenness is the only real 'crime'...yet The Night Lizard has to protect such a town. Why? Well hopefully the actual story will get picked up somewhere and you'll be able to find out that our plucky hero is both mentally disturbed (not in an obvious way) and headed down a decidedly non-comic booky path ;) oooooo!

EASTER EGGS AND OTHER TREATS

I just thought of something that might be pretty cool. I could put 'deleted scenes' from my stories on here - from stories that have been or will be published, so they a) make sense and b) are relevant. As with films, most deleted scenes add colour more than anything else, but I think they can still be cool, especially if they involve DEATH.

Yes, DEATH. And to start to ball rolling, here's a section from a forthcoming story, which has two titles because I can't decide which one is better. Well, the second title is better but doesn't quite make sense. That remark itself will make sense if you read the story. It's called 'S' IS FOR 'STYMPHALIAN BIRDS' / THE SIXTH LABOUR OF JOHN HATHAWAY (it's going to be in The Monster Alphabet Book, which explains the first title. More details on this book laterz).

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The Toyota's left-side wheels whirred with a desperate whine, spraying mud across the car. Stupid bloody weather, Susan cursed under her breath. The council knew the main road suffered flooding during heavy rain but did they do anything to resolve the issue? No. Too busy spending funds on renewing road markings and installing useless bloody road signs, like the new one she'd passed warning about ducks. Everyone knew there was a lake nearby so obviously there's bound to be ducks crossing the road from time to time.

“Stupid bloody idiots,” she muttered, revving the engine again. It was no use. She'd have to get out and push the car free of the mud. Either that, or call the Hathaways and let them know she couldn't make it, or even worse, would be late.

“Never in a million years!” she declared, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping from the vehicle. Under the cover of the trees the rain wasn't too bad, but it was evidently still heavy enough to fill the cracks and potholes in the tarmac, forming tiny rivers and lakes. She quickly checked the ground under the side wheels. It was like a bloody marsh. “Incredible...” she shook her head and returned to the driver's side. She kept one hand on the steering wheel whilst leaning against the inside of the open door. Susan Parker was a formidable woman in more ways than one, and she began to grunt with exertion as she put her weight into pushing the car. The Toyota rocked and groaned, the wheels fighting the suction of the mud with loud slurping sounds.

Susan stopped for a moment to wipe rain from her face and listen: a high-pitched keening was coming from behind her. Another car? Her husband? She turned with a hopeful look on her face, expecting to see salvation come driving past but instead witnessed a peculiar black mass streaming through the air at head height. Ducks? Black swans? She realised, too late, that the birds weren't going to change course and she turned, intending to jump back into the car, but the storm of feathers and beaks collided with her, momentarily knocking her off the ground and away from the open driver door. Her screams were drowned out by a harsh whispering shish, shish as a pain like a thousand knives tore at her flesh and bones. Shish, shish! Shish, shish! Shish, shish!

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The repetitive shish, shish! bit is cheesy as anything but I like it haha

This got deleted from the story to knock the word count down.