Hi Vicki!
This about the Bruce Campbell series? A crossover where Bill Church Jr. turns out to be Ash?
He breathed in deeply, taking in the unique smells that belonged solely to autumn - the decaying leaves laying in tidy piles all over the place, the sweet scent of the apple picking orchards just outside of the city limits, the first of the fires burning in the hearths of some of the houses.
You know, this sounds just like the Riverlands, during that fall before Gregor Clegane came riding through. Next up: Invasion of the dead.
He'd used his downtime wisely. He'd taken Lois out on dates where he'd been able to stay the whole time, without needing to duck out with a limp excuse and no idea how long he'd be before he could return.
So, season two?
A terrified young woman was backed up against the brick wall of what had been one of Clark's favorite pizzerias, before the owner had declared bankruptcy early that summer. Two men were approaching her at an easy, steady pace, confident in the knowledge that their prey was cornered. Clark angled down for a landing, positioning himself between the woman and her assailants.
Oh boy. And suddenly I’m flashing to RoboCop I, the mugging scene.
Bloodless lips peeled back into a strange hybrid smile/grimace, showing off unnaturally sharp teeth.
So, they’re Evil and Dead, I take it?
Clark was horrified. He'd seen all manner of strange things in both his travels as Clark and his rescues as Superman, but cannibalism hadn't one of them. Until now.
CLARK: Thenns. I *hate* Thenns!
Now he saw Flannel Man chewing the hunk of flesh he'd torn from his victim. Clark's stomach clenched and churned in disgust, though he managed to keep his face as close to neutral as he could.
Indeed. Will you at least *cook* the meat first? What are you, savages?
He was dressed in brown pants and a blue button-down shirt and had black hair.
Ah, he’s wearing his brown pants, huh? Things must be *bad*.
"Put the weapon down!" Clark commanded, in a harsh tone rarely used by Superman. He held his hands out in a placating gesture, lest the man spook and act out dangerously.
He’d never make it with that attitude in Gotham.
"Deadites. You know. Someone who's been killed, possessed by evil, and come back to kill us all."
Sounds reasonable?
I saw the Deadites slay countless soldiers back in the medieval ages. And please, don't ask. It was a whole, strange, time traveling mishap that I'd just as soon not relive in my mind."
Boy, they must have *loved* his chainsaw back then.
ASH: Yeah, but do you know just *how* hard it is to get your hands some heavy duty spirits during that time?
Clark winced, unable to imagine how desperate a person would have to be to cut off their own hand. Ash saw the wince.
/points at 24/
We save the world, maybe go out and celebrate by knocking back a few drinks, bedding a few girls. You know the drill."
"Are you sure it'll work?" Clark asked skeptically, ignoring the man's cavalier attitude.
ASH: Trust me. Girls *dig* men with disabilities who know a good war story.
"Oh, about this big," Ash replied, holding his hands apart. "Bound in human flesh. Cover looks like an evil face. Ink made out of human blood. You know, typical hell-book design."
Oh, you mean, like Ramsay Bolton’s diary?
They were too late. A Deadite had already torn an old woman and her young grandson apart. Blood and organs lay spattered about on the pavement. Enraged, and reconciling to himself that the Deadite was no longer a living human, he blasted the demon apart with his heat vision.
That *is* kind of gruesome.
"Luthor," Clark groaned with dread. "Ash! Come on! I knew where we have to go!" he called over to the unwanted partner he'd been stuck with.
Shouldn’t he be…you know…dead?
LEX: /checks box/
One of them wasn't even located in its socket anymore, but hung, instead, by the retina, swinging freely near his nose. Or, rather, what was left of his nose. The small nub of flesh looked as though something had chewed it off. Large chunks of his hair appeared to have been ripped out of his skull.
And yet, he’s not blasting him to the next world.
The transformation from the Lois he knew to a moldering Deadite was instantaneous and bone chillingly terrifying.
Oh dear, they can do that? Also, that’s not looking like it’s going to have a happy ending.
LOIS: Oh, I can give him a happy ending.
Lois easily knocked the tome from his trembling fingers and plunged the blade into his heart.
"Clark!"
Clark's eyes snapped open in a panic.
Oh! Oh. I see. Someone’s been a *naughty* girl!
Quickly, he stuck them on his face and opened the door.
His heart stopped when he saw Lois.
She was a Deadite.
His costume was amazing and he won for scariest costume. I swore to myself that I'd take it this year."
It wasn't a complete lie. The shop had also had a Superman costume in his size, but, all things considered, that wasn't really a costume for him, since costumes were meant to make a person look like someone they weren't.
Yes, but people don’t *know* that. And he could have stuffed a pillow into the costume, making him look like he’s got a bit of fat around the waist. Or he could have flown to Gotham and gotten a Batman suit instead.
"Ah, that's okay. I'm good," he replied with a glance back at the television and with a chill creeping up his spine. "I've had more than my fill of them."
What an evil story about the dead!
Michael
