The Best of the Best
Years ago…
The Brownstone Headquarters of the Justice Society of America
“She’s good Dinah.”
Dinah Drake-Lance glanced back with a start at the sound of the soft voice
behind her. She felt the tender, familiar touch of the hand on her shoulder,
warm and comforting, and she just had to smile.
Ted Knight stood just behind her chair having slipped into the Gymnasium proper
after his shower. His thinning, graying hair was still damp, and in the harsh,
unforgiving light of the Gym the deep lines on his face seemed to stand out even
more. He was still in good shape, still handsome and smart, but like most of the
rest of them he was showing his age. Still she smiled and wondered what he saw
in her in those warm, brown eyes.
“I know Ted, thanks.” Dinah Drake-Lance turned back to watch the sparring out in
the middle of the practice mats, her own hand finding Knight’s still on her
shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. “Unfortunately, she knows it too.”
Ted Knight chuckled, watching as Dinah’s daughter danced about the practice mats
with a style and grace that her mother had never known. In her day Dinah Drake
had been one of the best, the original…
The World’s Most Beautiful
Of course, that day was years ago, and as said, it was not the age, it was
the miles. Now, sitting there in the Gym and watching her daughter, Ted knew
what she was thinking, remembering. It was the same thing he saw himself every
time he looked at his two sons, David and Jack. He saw himself.
But looking at Dinah Laurel Lance, Ted Knight saw the mother. Younger and
probably more skilled of course, but Dinah junior was the very image of the
senior as she had been back in the Forties. She was beautiful, in perfect shape;
her body muscular and well toned without an ounce of fat. She was in her Lycra
warm-up suit; black sports bra and shorts, her long raven black hair tied back
in a tail as she leaped and dodged about her opponent with an amazing grace.
Young Dinah was almost poetry in motion- almost- where her mother had been a
scrapper, wading right in with her street smarts and a bit of Karate and Jujitsu
under her belt. Dinah Laurel had an ace up her sleeve too of course, they all
did. The sparring was not about aces however. It was about jokers…
“What’s the matter, old man,” Dinah Laurel laughed as she scissored her legs and
flipped over the big man she was fighting, using his head as a vaulting horse,
“getting tired?” She landed in a crouch and kicked out low and strong, the heel
of her bare foot striking the old brawler behind the knee and sending him
rolling to the mat.
Ted Grant was no amateur however and rolled easily into a crouch, his arms up
defensively to block his face and chest from a continued assault. He smirked,
his voice chuckling-
“Nice one, Kiddo,” he said, rising to stand, still hunched and bouncing on the
balls of his feet. Both Ted Knight and Dinah Drake saw his right foot slide
slightly back as he braced, still talking to the girl before him, drawing her
attention. “Ya got some good moves, I’ll give ya that. Yer time with Otomo an’
Conners done ya some good. Didn’t learn nuthin’ about respectin’ yer elders
though I see.”
Ted Grant grinned and Dinah Laurel Lance giggled, a clear sound of silver bells
not yet tarnished with age. “It’s not the age I’m dissin’ old man,” she
snickered, flipping forward in a series of rolling hand springs, “it’s that beer
belly you’re sporting.”
Ted Grant watched, both pleased and amazed as young Dinah flipped towards him
hand over foot, faster and faster. It was a pretty maneuver, meant to give her
momentum and force, but also to distract, and against anyone else- anyone who
wasn’t a brawler- it would have worked. Grant leaned back, bracing his weight on
his hind leg and shifting slightly to the side, though not out of the line of
fire.
As expected, Dinah turned the last flip into a power kick, screaming and
extending her leg high for his throat. Grant smirked. It was a killing blow.
Maybe she did respect him after all…
“Dinah! No!”
Dinah Drake-Lance shouted, jumping to her feet, watching her daughter as her
smile of pride faltered into a gasp of fear. She knew that blow, that high-kick
even though it had been years since she was limber enough to pull it off. If she
connected, her daughter would take off Wildcat’s head-
“Easy, Dinah,” Ted Knight said as he stepped up beside his old, dear friend,
holding her back. “Watch.” He had seen Grant’s conceited smirk, just a flash of
pearly white, and he knew that if Ted grant was not worried there was no reason
that they should be either…
Ted Grant had been a contender in his day; one of the best boxers ever to enter
the Gentleman’s Ring. He had beaten the best in his time. He could have retired
as Champion of the World if not for his little secret, his masked mystery man
secret identity. He had never been sure if his wins had been a result of his
own, earned prowess, or some beneficial side effect of his Meta. They hadn’t
called it that back in the day of course, back when it was him and Jay and Alan
running around in long johns and busting heads. Back then it was adrenaline, a
second wind maybe. Back then there was no ‘speed force’, no Guardians, and best
of all, no nine lives. Back then it was all blood and guts and dumb luck.
God, he hated retirement.
Ted Grant, Wildcat leaned into the coming kick, rising up slightly and looping
his arms about the young girl’s leg as he eased sideways and it slipped by
barely grazing his chest. He wrapped his muscular arms about Dinah’s leg and
twisted his shoulder into her chest, abruptly slamming her to a stop and halting
her momentum. He felt the gush of her minty breath as it left her lungs with the
impact and he smiled to see her eyes grow round and wide. She started to fall
back, and he eased his grip just enough to let her plant her free foot on the
floor for support-
“Yeah, yer good,” he repeated loud enough to be heard over her labored breathing
as she gasped for air, “one a’ the best.” He glanced at the other Ted and Dinah
standing on the far edge of the Gym. He chuckled, just then realizing that
little bit of irony. Knight was smiling, and the original Black Canary was
staring on in horror, alternately licking and biting her lips. Grant waited, and
finally she clenched her eyes shut and nodded. “Not the teeth,” he heard her
whisper. Grant turned back to the girl-
“But one thing ya gotta remember, Kiddo,” he said, locking his right arm about
Dinah’s thigh and twisting just a bit to throw her off balance again. “No matter
how good ya think ya are…”
He drew his left arm back, watching the girl blink, trying to focus and get her
arms up to defend-
“There’s always somebody better!”
Three quick jabs; throat, chin and nose, even pulling his punches, jabbing
left-handed, that was all it took. He smiled to see Dinah’s eyes fluttering,
rolling and trying to focus. Her chest heaved as she continued to gasp for
breath, but her skin paled quickly as her head started to loll. Grant cursed as
a trickle of blood escaped her nose. He had hit her too hard. Still, she was
tough, one of the best he had ever seen and she was still young and growing.
Hopefully learning, and one day soon she would have to spread her wings and fly
on her own.
Ted Grant released her leg and stepped back, letting her fall...
|
The
World's Most Beautiful Crimefighter.....
The Best of the Best |
| Black Canary #9 - October, Year 2 | by Curt Fernlund |
Now…
The Brownstone Restaurant of Manhattan’s 21 Club
Dinah Laurel Lance shook her head to clear it, gritting her teeth against the
shooting pain in her leg and ribs as she twisted about, trying to control her
fall. She did not have much time. Seconds…
Dinah scissored her legs, windmilling to get her body spun about. It was hard in
her evening gown, and she cursed as she heard the thin, expensive fabric
starting to rip and tear. Luckily she had not bought the thing, a ‘gift’ from
Oracle unlimited, and a bottomless closet of clothes. Rich, extravagant,
expensive clothes that fit her to a tee. A pity Oracle had apparently given up
on the whole Birds of Prey idea- it would have been great!
Dinah stretched, her arms groping, grasping for the ragged brick wall that
seemed forever out of reach. She still tumbled, watching as another floor
drifted swiftly past, light blazing from the windows. She saw the mercenary
agents of Kobra within, a quick snatch of images branded on her mind’s eye as
they fired their weapons on the diners within the exclusive private rooms of the
21 Club.
She had been having a comfortable, enjoyable dinner in just such a room not so
long ago. She had been sharing a table in an exclusive room with Adam Blakewell,
the rich and powerful billionaire and steel magnate from Pittsburgh. Owner of
the Pyramid Club uptown (still closed for repairs) he had arrived looking way
too handsome to say ‘no’ to when he asked her out on a spontaneous date. Hell,
he had brought her flowers. No one brought her flowers anymore.
Dinah strained, screaming as she stretched, another floor out of reach. Her
fingers brushed the slight ledge that encircled the Fourth floor, her nails
scraping the unforgiving, unyielding brick. She cursed both in sharp pain and
frustration, glancing down and trying to flip in mid air.
Dinner had been fantastic, and it had given her a chance to get better
acquainted with Blakewell. Sarge Steel would be happy as hell- if she survived
to give him a report. If she decided to give him a report, as she was none too
happy that Checkmate was even investigating the man. Thinking
he was some crimelord looking to create some new Mob along the Eastern Seaboard,
well, it was just so ridiculous. Granted, the first time she had met the man had
been at a party at his Pyramid Club where there had been not just a few
questionable guests in attendance. Blockbuster, Lynx, Boss Thorne, even Luthor,
hell she had even seen Slade Wilson at the party. Then too, there had been
Shiva.
Dinah’s fingers curled about one of the flagpoles jutting from the third floor
ledge. Her shoulders screamed in agony as her fall was abruptly halted, the old
wooden pole bending under her sudden, unexpected weight. She screamed herself,
her arms burning with the strain, then cursed as the old pole snapped and her
descent continued.
Lady Shiva Woosan was arguably the best martial artist in the world, depending
on who spoke of her. There were others of course; Connor Hawke, Richard Dragon,
Shado and the Batman. The Black Canary was considered one of the world’s best,
but she knew that there was always someone better. Ted Grant had drummed that
into her head often enough. In her case, that was Lady Shiva.
Just what she was doing at the 21 Club then and there was beyond Dinah as she
tumbled, cursing and whimpering as her fingers scraped along the rough brick
brownstone façade of the six story building. She was figuratively grasping at
straws, her fingers trying to catch at the slightest crack, the smallest edge
that might slow her fall. She could feel her fingernails bending back with her
efforts, her skin scraping on the rough stone, but it was working ever so
slightly. She slammed into the wall, her arm popping as she caught a brief hold
then bounced away again. She kicked out instinctively, arching back and trying
to flip over in a reverse swan dive.
Kobra had attacked the 21 Club, just as they had the Rainbow Room and the Old
Homestead, and the Pyramid Club as well last winter. What they hoped to
accomplish was anyone’s guess- Kobra himself was insane- but they seemed to
target the rich and affluent. This was their second assault on Blakewell, and
oddly Shiva had been there as well, again.
Dinah splayed her body, falling backwards now and spreading her arms and legs to
create the most drag. Her long gown fluttered between her legs as she drifted
back, still falling fast. She hoped her aim was true as she braced for impact.
The Lady Shiva had burst into Blakewell’s private room just after Kobra. She had
been fighting the mercenaries, and Dinah had seen several lying in her wake as
she had charged into the room, more falling as she fought her way forward. There
had been a moment when she had stared at Blakewell, but Dinah had missed the
exchange, trying her best to stay alive at that particular moment. Shiva had
smiled then, attacking Dinah and knocking her through the window-
“Can you fly, little bird?” she had asked.
No. But she could land with the best of them.
Dinah cried out as she hit the awning that covered the main entry to the club.
It was new luckily, and in good repair or it would have been shredded by her
impact. As it was she heard the creak and groan of metal supports and struts as
she hit, letting her body go limp as she bounced up and off of the tightly
stretched canvas. She arced out over the street, tumbling and twisting again and
trying to get her feet back under her. She saw the doorman staring up at her in
dumbfounded awe, people on the street shouting and running, trying to get out of
the way.
She flipped, pulling her legs in close and tight, flailing her arms as she
seemed to float for just a moment, then dropped the last few feet like a rock.
She grimaced as her feet touched down, hearing the crack as her long heels
snapped under her weight. Her ankle twisted beneath her as she staggered back,
windmilling her arms to get her balance. She went over hard on her ass, skidding
on the blacktop of the street as her momentum played out, burning away. Her
dress shredded away, the straps ripping and she felt gravel and glass tearing
into her back. She cried out, gritting her teeth until she finally lay still,
moaning.
She was alive. She was bruised and bleeding, and her dress was a total loss, but
any landing one could walk away from…
Dinah Laurel Lance looked up, saw the crowd on the street gathering about her.
There were explosive sounds coming from the club and flashing lights led her to
believe that Kobra was still on the warpath. She saw the doorman running towards
her, shouting at her but she ignored him looking up to the building.
Smoke roiled from some of the windows, flames licking at the expensive curtains
within. There was a hole in the wall on the second floor and most of the windows
were shattered from where Kobra’s mercenaries had dropped from the roof on
coiled ropes to smash through and gain entry. There were screams of panic and
terror, and somewhere away in the distance she heard the sirens of emergency
vehicles.
She saw Lady Shiva as well, looking down from the window that she had taken her
dive from. She was smiling, smirking with conceit just as she backed away and
out of sight. Dinah cursed-
“Not this time, bitch!”
Dinah Laurel Lance struggled to her feet, standing awkwardly on one high heel,
her body aching from her plunge. She was bruised and battered, bleeding, half of
her nails ripped away or bent back, but she would be damned if Shiva got the
better of her again.
“You okay, lady?” the doorman said as he rushed forward. He was only trying to
help, but Dinah shoved him away and he fell to his knees clutching his chest
where she had pushed. She snarled something rude and vulgar as she jammed her
remaining heel into a sewer grating and twisted, snapping it off. She ripped
away at what was left of her gown, uncaring as she stood in her black bustier
and thong, her expensive sandals now flat on the ground. She would have kicked
them off as well but for the glass shards sparkling in the firelight, littering
the ground. She ran forward finally, charging back into the club, shoving past
the panicky patrons trying to get out. She did not care who got in her way…
Queen Bee screamed as fire burst through the ceiling, blazing timbers falling
in her midst. A Kobra mercenary fell beneath the burning wood, screaming in
agony as the blaze engulfed him. She did not care, better him than her.
She had to get away, but there seemed nowhere to run. She cursed Teth for
suggesting that she be on hand- with Psimon- while he wined and dined the Black
Canary, trying his best to soften her up and get her into their ranks. She had
agreed that Black Canary would be an excellent addition to their schemes- she
had access to all of the JLA files of course, and God knew what else- but she
was far too independent for the Queen’s liking.
The Queen Bee had been following the Canary’s latest exploits even if Black Adam
had not. She was a volatile and aggressive heroine of late, not seeming to care
what she did or who she did it to so long as she accomplished whatever goal she
set out to achieve. Just recently she had beaten the tigress to a bloody pulp,
and she had received word that she had strong-armed Gizmo not so long before
that. Working with Checkmate she had busted up several of Adam’s lesser
operations around the city over the last few weeks. She was a danger- better to
have her with than against of course, but still a worry. Queen Bee wondered if
Adam was not smitten actually, just a little bit.
“We better run.” Psimon said, poking his head up from behind the heavy oak bar.
His dark eyes were wide as he surveyed the carnage of the 21 Club’s main bar;
patrons dead and dying, sports memorabilia burning, the very room collapsing as
the building burned. He was probably right, and the Queen Bee was about to
acknowledge that fact as the Lady Shiva strolled into the room unconcerned, one
of the Kobra mercenaries falling to a quick jab in the throat. Shiva stepped
past the body as it fell in her path, apparently oblivious.
“Still here, oh Queen?” she asked as she slid the straps of her gown down her
shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. She was wearing a tightly bound
red leather corset beneath, panties of red satin and nothing else. She stepped
out of her shoes. She removed the clip from her obsidian black hair and shook it
out with a grin. “You should run.”
“Where’s Adam?” the Queen asked, licking her lips as she glanced about at the
devastation. The fire was growing and she could still hear the sound of blaster
fire coming from other parts of the building. Psimon shambled out from behind
the bar as Shiva shrugged, flexing her arms, loosening her muscles-
“I neither know nor care. I am done here, my obligations fulfilled. Run…”
Shiva looked up, her dark almond eyes cold and full of malice. Queen Bee licked
her lips and shivered, turning to Psimon but seeing only his ass churning as he
ran for the exit. She tried to laugh as she backed away, then finally turned and
ran as well.
Dinah Laurel Lance looked queerly, first at the man as he ran past, his body
shimmering oddly, then at the woman running just a few steps behind. She
definitely looked familiar, but as she struggled to place the face she saw the
Lady Shiva at last, stepping into the frame of the connecting doorway between
the bar and the main room. She looked impressive, dressed not all too different
than Dinah herself in her underwear.
Pay-per-View would make a fortune…
Shiva seemed cool and confident as she stepped forward, stepping over a body
sprawled in the doorway actually. She ignored it, standing sideways slightly,
easing her weight back almost imperceptibly, her hands curling into fists.
“It comes to this at last,” she said as Dinah struck a defensive pose, legs
spread and arms up, ready to block or strike. “I welcome it. You and I in final
battle as it was meant to be.”
Shiva flexed, waving her hands in a Kata, finding her center. Dinah mimicked her
motions move for move. Both women blinked in surprise-
“Sensei Otomo?” Dinah asked and Shiva smiled, nodding-
“We have more in common than I might have suspected. Are you ready, little
bird?”
Dinah nodded, curling her fingers in a come-closer motion. “Bring it!”
And the battle was joined…,
Black Adam made a fist and the last of the Kobra mercenaries died, blood
gushing over his hand. He glanced about the room, surveying the damage and
sighed, shaking his head. It was a useless waste of life; the dozen dead
mercenaries in this room alone, the busboy and waiter. Zehuti knew how many more
lay dead in the club. Who knew that Kobra would take such offence?
Adam heard the sounds of battle still raging in the outer halls, heard the
crackle of flames and collapsing timber. He heard the screams of the terrified
patrons, the dying. He did not care. Saving the rabble was Batson’s quest in
life, he and Freeman and the girl. Teth Adam had a higher purpose, a loftier
goal and if slight altercations such as this culled the lesser beings and
unworthy all the better.
He heard sirens approaching outside and glanced to the shattered windows as red
light flashed without. It was only then that he remembered Dinah Lance. She had
been helping him battle the snake mercenaries, and he recalled too that Shiva
had been there. In fact, Shiva had kicked Dinah out the window.
Adam strolled to the broken window frame and stared down, scanning the ground
for the body. She was only human after all- despite her lauded Canary Cry- with
no physical prowess beyond the norm. Oddly however, as he gazed down on the
street and saw the emergency personnel, those patrons that had escaped the
assault and those passer-by that inevitably stood about to gape, he did not see
Dinah Lance.
He doubted that the EMS had taken her already. The sheer confusion of any
terrorist incursion seemed to sap the wit out of any normal people within the
radius. More likely she somehow survived, and was even now battling her way back
into the burning building, saving lives and fighting Kobra. Perhaps she was even
concerned of him, and was trying to find poor Adam Blakewell.
Teth Adam chuckled coldly, “Stupid cow…”
She was comely of course, and had good hips for rearing many children, possibly
one worthy to be his heir one-day. And she did seem to take up his thoughts
quite often, oddly enough. She was no replacement for his long dead wife of
course, but she would look impressive at his side. Perhaps he should find her…
Black Adam turned from the windows, ignoring the pleas and platitudes of the
emergency personnel gathering on the street. He did not need their help, but he
did need to leave before they got inside and started trying to take control. He
stalked towards the doorway, killing another mercenary barring his path without
breaking stride.
He had to find Dinah…
Shiva stepped in lithely, swift and smooth and without warning. Dinah shifted
her weight as Lady Shiva’s hand sliced empty air in a downward arch. Still Dinah
felt the breeze of the blow and the assassin quickly, fluidly followed through,
spinning with the momentum to slam the heel of her foot into Dinah’s shoulder.
It stung, but the Black Canary was already on the defensive, twisting and
turning against Shiva’s movements, trying to anticipate her next attack.
Dinah rolled back, sliding her feet to brace in a fresh stance as the woman
flipped sideways, her other leg arching up to shoot past her head, grazing
Dinah’s cheek. She barely got her arms into position to deflect the blow, but
she did, just enough to throw the assassin’s balance and timing off, forcing her
to worry about landing rather than turning another near miss into a new assault.
Dinah Lance craned her neck, spinning about in time to see Shiva land softly on
the carpeted floor in front of the bar, whipping her other leg about in order to
face her opponent. Dinah was already charging forward, a snap-kick striking
Shiva in her thigh- a glancing blow- her fists flying furiously at Shiva’s face
and torso to follow. She saw Lady Shiva brace as her own arms came up to block,
her hands flailing, batting away Dinah’s jabs with blinding speed, matching her
movements blow for blow.
Casually Dinah shifted her weight to her back foot. Seeing Shiva’s slight
curling of lips she knew that the other woman had seen the change in stance, her
attack altering to accommodate. Still, she was committed, and Dinah stepped
back, aiming a sweeping kick up towards Shiva’s groin. Shiva raised her leg,
blocking the kick and quickly snapped her leg up, extending it up to its limits
to slam her curled foot up against Dinah’s cheek. Dinah yelped, staggering back
and brushing the leg away, but Shiva was already dipping down, bringing her foot
back to the ground and letting gravity whip her about to slam her leg into the
Black Canary’s, sweeping her off of her feet.
Dinah Laurel Lance landed hard, and worse, awkwardly. She winced as pain shot
through her tailbone and up her spine, sucking air through her clenched teeth.
She tried to push aside the pain, her hand swiftly knuckling her eyes to wipe
away the sudden well of tears. She barely got her arms up and crossed in front
of her to bock Shiva’s foot angling towards her face. She met the force of the
sudden kick, rolling to her side and forcing the woman’s foot into the sturdy
oak bar. Dinah heard a crack and saw slivers fly away as Shiva hissed, dancing
quickly back and out of reach.
Dinah ignored the pain in her back as best she could, bracing with her legs and
arching her back, springing off her hands to land in a crouch on the balls of
her feet. She scrambled forward as Shiva backpedaled, leaping over her leg
sweeps and finally angling to land, her back on the bar as she scissor-kicked up
and out of sight.
The Black Canary rolled away, quickly scrambling to her feet and spinning about,
assuming a defensive pose. The fire was raging behind her now; she could feel
the heat of the flames as they inched their way across the carpeted floor.
Licking closer, rising higher, another blazing section of ceiling fell with a
crash.
She licked her lips, scanning the length of the long curving bar. She watched
the mirrors, already stained with smoke, and the shadows dancing and flickering
in the bottles lining the shelves. She took deep breaths, waiting, shifting her
weight, and trying to regain her calm and center. She was sweating and nervous,
already aching from the swift strain of intense battle-
“Kobra!”
Dinah turned to see one of the Kobra mercenaries come charging through the fire.
His armor was ripped and charred, but he still held his rifle and was blazing a
path before him. The Canary dodged as laser fire flashed by, burning into the
wall and shattering the glass of a display case. She shifted her weight, ready
to strike if the man came at her rather than the exit, and was startled to see a
liquor bottle spiral by.
The bottle struck the man squarely in the nose, shattering on impact and
actually knocking him up and back off of his feet. He fell back, sprawling onto
the floor and half into the blaze racing across the carpet.
“Shit!” Dinah cursed, charging forward to grab the mercenary’s legs and drag him
out of the fire. He was heavy, and the effort made her grimace as her back
twisted oddly again with a fresh wave of pain. With a grunt however, she pulled
the man to relative safety, then dropping his legs and spinning about-
Shiva’s foot hovered inches from her nose…
The Black Canary looked up and saw Lady Shiva Woosan smiling coyly at her. Dinah
knew that the woman had her dead to rights, a simple shift of weight and she
could shatter her nose and drive the bone into her brain. Dinah could try to
block or dive back to safety, but any move she made would leave her open to any
number of attacks. She had not followed through however, and taunted Dinah,
twirling her foot before the Canary’s face.
It was over…
“And there lies your fault, Little Bird, the reason you will never fly. You
care…”
Shiva grinned and slowly lowered her foot back to the floor. She stared at the
Canary, watching for perhaps a final, desperate assault, a renewed battle, but
Dinah simply sighed and bowed, signifying an end. Shiva nodded, the slightest
acknowledgement of one beneath her, enough respect to satisfy.
“Dinah!”
Both women glanced towards the interior of the club. The fire was burning
brightly beyond the bar, the adjoining rooms deeper in the club now a
conflagration. They saw a shadowy figure moving casually through the raging
flames, calling Dinah’s name-
“Adam…” the two women said in unison, and Dinah returned her gaze to her
opponent.
“Another time?”
Lady Shiva Woosan nodded, “A time of our choosing, with less distractions.”
Shiva smiled and glanced towards Blakewell. “I look forward to it… Black
Canary.”
Shiva turned and ran lightly, disappearing into the thickening clouds of smoke.
Dinah watched until the fleeting shadow vanished all together, cursing all the
while. Another time-
“Dinah!”
“Here, Adam,” Dinah said, turning towards Blakewell as he stepped through the
flames, heading her way-
“I’m here…”
End
Next Issue: Still in the works. Come back and check it out…
Story © 2004 Curt Fernlund and may not be reproduced without permission.