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Henry Flint Visible Man page bought from the artist at the 2000AD stand at London Super comic con.
£60

The men (and women) in black.
Wearing new shirts to distinguish ourselves from our friends in the north.

Riddle me this, Batman. What do you call a group of 2000AD fans in a pub in that London dock lands?

Some Kleggy Dredd posted from the floor of the LSCC at the Excel

Patrick Goddard. Colours by Dylan Teague

Neil Roberts

Dumbest question on this forum since... fucking yesterday.

Jim

This seems a bit harsh as a response to a new member with two posts to his or her name. Or is there another back story that I'm not aware of?

Can't resist stuff like this. Ordered.

Blimey, am I the only one?

Cliff Robinson puts the OOO in 2000AD

Droid life has a sock on the door handle if you know what I mean.

Dredd's injuries weren't as bad as they looked and a new model medic-droid has him up and about in no time. Meanwhile there's more DNA tampering than an episode of Making a Murderer.

Kingdom. A short satisfying episode with some big tank action.

ABC Warriors/Ro-Busters. The faked terrorist attacks plot line continues and I rather like the look of Dr Feely Good. Might have to get one of those for the surgery.

The Order. At least the bright red hair makes it easy to spot the protagonist who gets out of the fire but back into the frying pan.

Strontium Dog. The gang pull off a Hatton street heist and it all looks great.

Input: Three letters for the beast with a suggestion that Jaegir may be gone for some time and 1973 looks set to be the next jumping on prog.

The artwork on Dredd and Strontium Dog are the top notch in a pretty splendid Prog.

[Face Lift]

Face Lift

Ting!

The lift doors opened and two Harley Quinns and a female Captain America spilled out giggling while the Judge Fear cosplayer slumped against the back wall.

I pressed the button for the mezzanine where I was meeting Ben for lunch after his photo shoot, and then turned to admire the impressive costume behind me. His cloak was tattered and cobwebbed, the mantrap shoulder pads looked like real metal with blood and gore on the rusted teeth, and a dull red light pulsed behind the eyes of the helmet.

"Blimey, mate, you've put in a lot of work. Might be a bit much though, you're going to give kids nightmares."

He didn't answer but pushed off the wall and stepped towards me. There was a strange jerkiness to his movements and I wondered if he might be disabled in some way.

"Whoh, save the act for the convention. Are you going to say the line?"

He came closer and stretched a gaunt hand towards me. That wasn't a rubber glove, maybe a clever paint job? A damp smell like wet leaves filled my nostrils as the lights started to flicker. He towered over me like a giant insect, a twitching monster from a silent horror film.

"Errr, excuse ..."

The words stuck in my throat as the hand touched my chest and everything went quiet, dead quiet. No machinery noises, no alarms, nothing but the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. I was suddenly cold as all heat left the world. All the noise, all the warmth, and all the hope were gone. I thought of Ben and I was afraid.

"P-p-please" a whisper died on my lips as his other hand jerked towards the visor and ...

Ting!

The doors opened and noise, heat and life flooded in around me. I jostled my way out through a crowd of laughing cosplayers and looked back into the lift but Fear wasn't there.

I staggered towards the balcony to lean on the railing. Sweat dripped from me as I looked down to the convention floor and saw Ben walking towards the stairs. He raised an arm to wave and then turned as he noticed the tall, cloaked figure behind him.

I tried to call out but my throat was still frozen. Fear bent over him as the crowds swarmed between us and when my view cleared they had disappeared.

The police searched but Ben was gone. The cosplay societies didn't know anyone with a Judge Fear suit, and he didn't appear in any of the convention videos or photos.

It's been three months now and nothing. I haven't seen the face of fear but it has seen me. I take anxiety medication but it doesn't work, my counsellor listens but doesn't believe, and I wake most nights sweating and afraid. The police are ready to declare Ben dead and the terrible truth is I hope they are right because the alternative just fills me with dread.

Bump
Or
Boing!

A) I do
B) stick to 500 but maybe have one longer form comp a year.
C) some more of the "Tales of" series. Tales of the academy, the cursed earth, the black museum, Devil's island. That sort of thing. Or let's try our hands at writing an actual Future Shock or a Time Twister in 500 words of prose.
D) do the Limerick or dirty poetry annually as the Christmas comp.
E) keep up the excellent work