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1) Eamonn Clarke
2) James C
3) BCB

EYE OF THE STORM

The howling increased behind him. His boots hammered the dry desert floor. Sergio Wan stumbled. Pain exploded in his knee but the instinct for survival drove him on. The faulty respirator clung to his sweat soaked features.

Sergio had always been a runner. He had fled the Big Meg for the Cursed Earth five years ago. A bad debt to the wrong people had forced him out. Faking his own demise, Sergio took to a life amongst the ruins and mutants.

The mutie witch had been right after all. She had told him and Benni that the dead would rise again and that those already committed to dust would return as bitter storms of pain and rage. They had just laughed and sipped their vokka juice.

Voices whistled from the turbulence. They sang songs of suffering, past sins and remorse. The billowing mass seemed to suck the oxygen from the cold night atmosphere. The weak glow of oil lanterns came like a heavenly intervention. Sergio sobbed with relief. Benni had an underground shelter with steel doors, a shuggy table and a faded print of Ju C Bea.

'You left us.'

The voice was so close he almost felt the dead lips on the flesh of his neck. His legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground. There would be no more running. The safety of Benni's place was beyond him. Sergio screamed and raised his hands. The force of the whirlwind lifted him up off his feet. Dirt and ash struck like hail. The rags were torn from his wasted body. The maelstrom snatched the respirator away. Sergio  screwed his eyes shut as the voices became a strident chorus around him. And then -

Hush.

Whatever held Sergio released him. Opening his eyes, he found himself in a clearing in the turbulence, in the eye of the storm. The long deceased prowled the outside of the circle. A familiar face emerged from the shifting forms. Recognition pierced his heart like a spear. Sergio slowly shook his head. The face extended on a tendril of vapour. It hovered closer until he felt dust on his lips.

She kissed him. Dust seeped into his mouth and hissed into his thoughts. Flashes of a past he never knew - of what he had left behind - filled his mind. Sergio saw tears and muzzle flashes. The stench of decay clogged his nostrils. He witnessed in horror bodies thrown from a transport. Sergio watched as those he loved rotted in the heat of the wasteland.

'You left us to them.'

Sergio opened his mouth to speak but his words were drowned in a torrent of dirt. He choked on dust and ash. The cloud invaded his ears and nostrils, prising open his eyelids to consume the tears hiding there. The storm hollowed Sergio. The restless souls burrowed and scoured, reducing his insides to desiccated waste.

With another voice accompanying the choir, the howling cloud drifted on.

I remember that the Rat novels were the first sci-fi series I read when I was a kid. Loved the humour and the action. It was funny how Carlos drew Jim in much the same way I had envisaged him in the stories - a Coburn-esque rogue.

A lot of memories for me there Prof, particularly Wolf and the Batman game. It's a shame that artists like Bob Wakelin aren't recognised more for their obvious talents.

Well done Sharky!

1) Napalm Kev     https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rtxbM7-jAD0

V funny well done mate.

2) The Legendary Shark

3) Eamonn

Wow! That's a great piece.

Cinamon Hadley - the inspiration for the look of Death from The Sandman, has sadly passed away.

https://www.bleedingcool.com/2018/01/07/cinamon-hadley-woman-inspired-look-death-died/

Another 2000ad legend gone. Very sad news.

Merry Christmas All! I hope the next twelve months serves you well!

Apologies once again for jumping the queue but this the only opportunity I've got to post this little tale:

Rad Road Trucker

I've been driving the rad roads for twenty-five years now, travelling north under the storm clouds that restrict air traffic. Over the years I've seen some pretty weird shit man but nothing like what I saw that freezing December night.

I was hauling med-supplies to a tech community up in the snow wastes. As always, it was just me and the Bear. There ain't nothing more reassuring as an AI in the cab to watch your back. Not long after we hit the snow, I spotted something or someone in the road. Bear zoomed the windscreen in tight. It was a tiny fella in brightly coloured clothes. Now the Company has one policy concerning situations like that; nothing stops the delivery. Usually, I would have just mowed down whoever was on the road and probably whistled a happy tune as I did so. But as the scanner focused on those pale, trembling features and large dark eyes, all I could do was hit the brakes.

Leaving Bear to yak on about risks and policies, I jumped down from the cab. With a hand on my holster, I approached the little guy.

''Elp me.'

He kept jerking his head around and nervously glancing back at the darkness behind him.

''Elp me Mister.'

'What's wrong kid?'

'Company rules Boss - no passengers.' Bear boomed from the cab.

'Now wait a minute-'

In the distance, somewhere in the gloom, bells delicately rang. It was a cute, musical sound but by the way the little guy shook and fouled his costume, it must have sounded like the coming of the apocalypse.

'Its too late Mister - ' He wailed. ' - they're here.'

Shapes moved in the darkness. I slipped my Smiter from it's holster. Tiny figures scampered over and seized the little guy. They were all dressed in the same garish clothes. Their eyes gleamed with spiteful pleasure. The miniature mob clamped iron restraints around their prisoner's wrists.

My attention switched to the large, wheezing figure standing outside the arc of the headlights. From what I could tell it possessed two legs but it was by no means human. The creature seemed to be covered in red fur and long white hair.

'Take the little sheeet back to the camp.' It growled. 'He will soon learn that there is no escape from Camp Frosty.'

'What the hell is going on here?' I levelled the Smiter at the rotund belly.

'And you -' The figure stepped closer to the light. I made out mangled white hair and cheeks the colour of a rotten pumpkin. A mouth of yellowed and mis-sharpen teeth gaped in the forest of hair. ' - You have seen nothing.'

The mob turned to me. They bared jagged teeth and produced stiletto blades from their tunics.

'Bear.'

'Way ahead of you Boss.'

The roar of the cannons filled the still air. They tore at the frozen ground. I raised a hand and the barrage ceased. When the mist of vaporized snow and ice cleared, they were all gone. There was no trace of the strange folk, not even a damn footprint.

I got back into the truck and completed the run. I put the whole thing down to crazy mutants. Bear and I made a back haul and were soon home for the festivities. My wife, Vests, met me at the door with a kiss.

'The kids found something strange under the tree about an hour ago.'

In the living room, I found a large box under the tinsel and baubles. My name had been scrawled on a label in crayon. I lifted the lid. Inside, poking from the layers of tissue paper, was a loop of ribbon.

'It must be a decoration for the tree or something.' Vests said behind me.

I hooked a finger under the loop and lifted my gift from the box. My free hand clamped over my lips to suppress a scream. I recognized those big, cartoonish eyes and the rose-tipped nose.

'Merry Christmas Mister - ' The small, decapitated head squeaked before rasping; ' - you saw nothing.'

Here's another one:

Despite every 80's action flick and GTA, cars don't explode if you shoot them with normal rounds. They do if incendiary rounds are used but not standard bullets. I've read that the same goes for flamethrowers. In Battleground you take them out by blasting the fuel tanks on their backs. Nope. Hit the compressed air supply and it'll go boom-boom but a shot to the fuel tank will only leave a hole.

Please note that I have no experience of the above subjects! It all comes from wacky Wikipedia and other online sources for an art project. Do not try this at home!

The entries so far have been outstanding. Does anyone mind if I jump the gun and give my little piece tonight rather than the 24th?

Firstly let me issue a warning: some of the gags referenced in this story are not suitable for work or for those of a young age or to be used in the lull between Christmas dinner and Dr Who.

DEATH BY MAU MAU

JUSTICE DEPT. AUDIO FILE 78365B
EXCERPT FROM HELMET MIC RECORDING OF JUDGE T. GUZMANN

MUGLINS:  'Terrible!'

GUZMANN: 'What happened at the Jaw-Acher Club last night
                  Muglins?'

MUGLINS:  'A jumper with big pockets!'

GUZMANN: 'What happened to those twelve missing citizens?'

MUGLINS:  'No eyed deer!'

GUZMANN: 'Something tells me creep that you're not taking this
                  interview seriously.'

MUGLINS:  'Shark infested custard!'

(GUZMANN SIGHS)

GUZMANN: 'What do you call an ex-comedian caught with the
                  property of twelve missing citizens?'

(PAUSE 2 SECS)

GUZMANN: 'What, no punch-line? I'll tell you - guilty. Who's
                  responsible for these disappearances?'

MUGLINS:  'Gohan.'

GUZMANN: 'Gohan who?'

MUGLINS:  'Gohan be a long night Judge!'

GUZMANN: 'Right, that's it!'

(SOUND OF PATWAGON DOOR OPENING)

GUZMANN:  'Who the hell are you?'

(SOUNDS OF A STRUGGLE)

(GUZMANN SHRIEKS)

(SQUELCHING NOISE)

(POPPING SOUNDS)

(HISSING)

(FLATULENCE)

(MUFFLED SOBBING)

MUGLINS: 'We are The Aristocrats!

I only go to CBR for the movie and tv news now. These stupid list things seem like filler to me. The only other interesting thing left other than the news is the Comic Book Legends at the weekend.