The feeling of a comforting relief, refreshed over the contorted face of the man-- who had only one soul belonging-- just a simple name, Mitch Shelly. Mitch laid there letting the rain run down his cheeks. The Man who could not die enjoyed the rush of his senses as his skin grew cold and numb. The smell of water seemed to sting his flaring nostrils that proposed the colors of stimulating reds. The sounds of the rain pitter-pattering on the roof gave Mitch a sense of joy, lips spreading wildly playing on his mouth. The smile was tight, even as the blue orbs exposed themselves from opening eyelids. A worn hand drew up against the ground as Mitch righted himself. It was at the moment of sight, which Mitch forgot about the rain. Forgot about his Journey, even forgot about Vandal Savage for a brief moment of time. Mitch’s reflections of this strangely vacant place felt warm. For a moment, Mitch wondered if he was finally home.

The middle of the town was covered in a thick sand of loose gravel. Gun-metal gray and brown buildings seemed to shape around the almost horseshoe looking town. The dark cloud’s Presence seemed to give the town an almost monochrome sensibility. Rain slicking over the wooden structures, shimmering down in trails over the hand crafted homes and shops. Mitch shook his head as his hand slipped the full brimmed hat back over his crown. A mane which contained thick white hair that tussled down his face, snaking down to nestle on his thick shoulders. The town seemed vacant now as Mitch padded his way across the wasteland of gravel, rain showering down in an atmosphere of wet darkened dominance. The rain had now gathered in the brim of the Resurrection Man’s hat dripping down in a never ending spill over his face. Though for Mitch no matter how it felt there was no end to his smile.

Mitch’s hand finally stretched out once again from the pocket of his duster, as footfalls stopped at the wooden foot walk. Fingers circled about the handle of door with a big sign out front that read “Norman’s Inn” in big red painted letters. Mitch had no recollection of how he got to this strange place. A town that seemed to be what he always wanted, a simple town, where no one really messed with business they shouldn’t. A small town where everyone knew everyone but had the human decency not to question what didn’t fall from the lips of citizens. Though Mitch had never seen a small town, nor lived in one. Mitch knew that no place was perfect, but being in a small town did have its rewards. He really could just use a place to rest. It had been a long time since the battle in Antarctica, when he found out the truth of his existence. Since he left Ray, Immortal Man and the other Forgotten Heroes, he’d again been on the run. Perhaps for a short time he could forget about who he was. Perhaps Mitch could forget he was just an experiment of a demented mind.

The inn gave a warm breeze of air against Mitch’s face as he wedged the door open. The light from the fireplace lighting the wooden interior a hearty shade of orange, even as his foot falls clacked over the shinning wooden floor. Mitch brought his hand up to slide his hat from his head exposing the long silver locks that now matted to his face saturated with rain. The old man at the counter watched him with curiosity as Mitch slowly walked towards the counter, of the establishment. Other people who were seated in tables across the floor seemed also to look up at the stranger as he entered. Each pair of eyes watching Mitch, curious as to who this stranger was.

“Good evening to ya stranger.” The old man responded eying the stranger fitted with a brim hat and an old beat up duster, through his thick bifocals.

“Same to you.” Mitch said simply looking at the old man with a glance. “Look, I just want to get a room for the night.”

“I reckon you do. Heh. Since we are the only inn in town.” The old man paused scooting a clipboard towards Mitch. “You can sign it, right stranger? Name’s Norman by the way, Stephen Norman.”

Mitch scribbled in his name next to a room number in black ink, the room number specified was the number Five. “Yeah, so guess it’s your inn then.” Mitch offered nodding to him again.

“Hmm Shelly, ya know you do look a bit familiar. Say, yer not related to old Marshall Timothy Shelly down in Potsmouthe are ya?”

“No.” Mitch offered reluctantly as the old man slid a key towards him.

“Stay as long as ya like. Its twenty dollars a night, we’ll get ya squared away when yer bouts to leave.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Norman.”

“People round here just call me Norman. Are you sure yer not related to those Shellys in Potsmouthe?”

“Can’t say I know one way or the other.” Mitch mentioned turning his back to the old man and began to make his way towards the staircase. The décor of the Inn didn’t change from the dusty brown and off white coloring, only tipped off with cherry polished wood trimmings to match the hand crafted furniture that seemed to all be the same sort of wood. Everything from the long bar tables to the stair railing that Mitch’s hand just fell on. “Guess his wife did some decorating.” Mitch mumbled to himself as his boots clacked up the stairs that led up to the second floor of the establishment. The talk downstairs in the bar seemed to become a mumbling crowd of sound almost sparking back up to its normal roar the moment Mitch was hiking away from them. Deep in Mitch’s mind he wondered if they didn’t get people happening in very often. Mitch’s mind faded from such thoughts as his mind was trying to piece together how he got to this strange town.

The Second floor seemed to be furnished in the same exact way as the bar and the staircase, the Dusty browns and off whites stretched down the long hallway, zigzagging into nothingness. Mitch looked down to the key he still had tightly clinched in his hand, reminding himself of the room number. Memory was not a problem, for Mitch as Telepathy, or Clairvoyance seemed to be his new meta-ability. Though his meta-ability was still in question to Mitch, as he padded his way across the hard wood floor of the hallway, blue eyes searching for the door who’s match was for his key. The footfalls stop as he reaches the deep wooden door that inlayed into one side of the dusty wall. A number five inset above the Resurrection Man’s head imbedded into the wood of the door. An accredited nod firmly waved from his head. The key slipped into the bronze lock and with a soft click, Mitch’s tawny hand turned the knob exposing a dark room, a bed was tucked to one corner scarcely silhouetted by the streams of light catered by a street lamp outside the window.

	Presents..... "No Escape" Part 1 UTOPIAN DREAMS
SHOWCASE #2 - January, Year Two	by Jae Lizhini

The rain drops raced side by side down the glass frame of the window as the tall, dark haired boy sat at the placid kitchen table with his chin resting on his hands, watching the races played out. The boy’s name was Thomas Randall, and really he wasn’t so much a boy as he was a man. Thomas was an apprentice to his father Dr. Martin Randal the Town’s Doctor. Though he lived with his parents and two brothers, the house was indeed quiet this night. The whole Randall family had gone to the weekly bingo night sponsored by the high school. For a town like Raysburg, Indiana; it was a bit of a social event. Most of the people who went to the weekly bingo night rarely played bingo. It was just an excuse to socialize. Tonight, though Tommy had a special meeting to attend, the woman he fancied was to meet him soon in the rose garden, near the cemetery. Though, the almanac didn’t call for rain, so Tommy wasn’t sure if Marissa would be showing at all. The waiting was always the hard part. Especially, when you can’t quit thinking about the person you are to meet. That goes double for meeting the daughter of the Mayor.

Tommy pulled his sleeve back once more looking at the watch face, ticking by before slapping hands on the hard wood seat and standing up. Tommy’s hair slid over his brow and into his eyes like it always did this late into the month. The thick locks always had a mind of their own. Shaking his head to get the hair from his eyes, Tommy looked back out his window and into the raging storm and shrugged his shoulders. “I hope she comes, guess only one way to find out.” Tommy said out loud as though he thought someone would respond. Though strangely someone did respond.

“Well I’m sure she will kid. Could be worse, ya could not have a body to get there in.” Came a voice that sounded more like the grinding of rocks than a real voice. Tommy’s head whipped around to see a skull sitting in an open briefcase there on the counter. The briefcase he recognized it was his father’s. But the skull definitely wasn’t there five minutes ago.

“You’re… you’re…” Tommy’s voice shook as he squinted looking at the skull who’s own red glowing coals in the dark eye sockets were watching him.

“A skull, yeah long story that involves tektites, the moon and one real pain in the ass. Name’s Hooker by the way.” The skull speaks on, as though there was nothing at all strange about his sudden spark of life.

Tommy’s eyes went wide. The young boy could feel his heart thumping hard against his chest. The nineteen-year-old man could only think about the girl, who had his heart and partly he was in a hurry. Love was stronger than the haunting visage of a skull even when its eyes were so red and so bright. “Look, it must be interesting… but I really am late.”

“Oh yes, late…” Hooker trails off as though he suddenly was in a lot of complex thought. The Skull lifted up a jaw hinged, a grit of bone without muscle. “Late for your meeting with your woman. Well it might be best if you don’t go. The Rain is pretty… strong. Its not exactly the best weather for what you have in mind huh?” There was a laugh that sounded like metal against metal.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he turned from the Skull, his feet padding towards the door. “I don’t know what you are, maybe my conscious. But I’m going to not be scared into not going. Or what ever the hell you’re trying to do.” Tommy informed Hooker, before opening the door with a squeak. The dark haired boy looked out at the rain, cascading from the heavens. Tommy didn’t look back to his kitchen as he walked through the door slamming it hard into the door frame.

“Not like it would matter one way or the other kid.” Hooker smiles, as the briefcase closes back over him.

Mitch Shelly lay upon the Cot that was situated on the corner of the dark room. The Tektite hat that he wore like a scar was laying on the edge of the pillow; a silver mane of hair ran across the backside of the pillow, shimmering from the streetlights that gave the room its only luminance. The Resurrection Man was still having problems figuring out how he got here. Now as he lay still on the firm cotton mattress his eyes closed fading into the darkness. He tried to recall, what brought him here. It was not too long ago that Mitch realized that he had been living millions of lives since the dawn of time, prefabricated memories. Though the memories were not only just his own. Mitch’s life became apparent to him only two years ago. It was when his Tektites kept his memories in tact. It was only two years that his life seemed to finally take shape.

Mitch Shelly was the third of three men who’d been fighting since the dawn of time. A meteor that had crashed down, infusing three men with the strange alien technology-- Tektites, each one of them was given three variants of immortality. Vandal Savage was indestructible, The Immortal man could not die, and he—Mitch Shelly- could not stay dead. It was that for millennia untold, that Mitch’s abilities of rebirth caused him to reform into a small child every time he died, and his memories of life evaporated. That was until he was found by the Lab, and had his unique body chemistry altered, that finally his life seemed to take shape. From awakening from his latest incarnation, Mitch began to be plagued with strange memories. Escaping from the Lab, proved a task itself, as he and his new friends were being targeted by two female assassins the Body Doubles, along with others, like Hooker, a man who was given Tektite infusions from Mitch’s own body. Hooker was almost utterly destroyed and sent into orbit on the moon. Hooker was found on the moon, as a skull who seemed to still be alive if just barely. For a time Hooker became the Lab’s own agent working with the Body Doubles. Even now as Mitch remembered his life, that seemed to still be a mystery. He learned that he wasn’t The Immortal Man, but yet the bastard third member of the Eternal War, did Mitch have more questions. After finding out the truth about himself, including that of learning in the distant future he was to be on of the world’s greatest super heroes. These questions answered seemed to be too much for Mitch, and now with the Lab’s leader jailed and Mitch himself learned of what was to come-- Mitch more than ever wanted to be left alone, and have a normal life. Mitch’s fondest memories were his time as a lawyer, he wished to get that life back. Now as he watched the bitter darkness under his eyelids—aware of the fact he was in another place he did not come to, Mitch wonders is it at all possible? Can a Resurrection Man truly have a normal life? That answer is of course the hardest thing he has yet to swallow.

Mitch’s eyes flickered open after a while, his thoughts keeping him up again. Despite all the answers he had received only months ago. About the grand order of things, so much still didn’t make sense. His boots clamped on the hard wood floor as the hero stood up, nimble fingers sliding through the silvery hair that washed down his face, as almost a scar as to who he was. The rain was now pelting against the window. Hard drops indicating a constant beat. Lifting out a hand, he felt the cold bitter feeling as he touched the glass. The Resurrection Man couldn’t help but feel it for an instant. A plea deep in the back of his head, he was unsure what that meant. Mitch looked back towards the cot and sighed. “It’s going to be a long night, old friend.”

Tommy’s jacket didn’t do much good to keep the rain out of his eyes. As he walked, footfalls slopped grass and mud onto the edges of his blue jeans. Tommy’s dark hair clung to his brow as he made his way across the soft hills of the cemetery. He had been thinking about tonight for the last five days. Five days since Marissa promised to meet him here. Though with the rain, he was pretty sure it was a fool’s errand. Consequently, it didn’t matter one way or the other, if he didn’t go he’d wonder if he missed on a perfect chance for the girl that he cared so much for. Of course that is saying that she showed up. Something Tommy he himself doubted.

The Moon was full in the sky, aloof; peeking through in a scatter of gray clouds, a simple jousting out of the pale light that gave a small semblance of light, on a rainy night as tonight was. The entire town was vacant save for a few of the over night workers. Like Earl the crypt keeper who was off inside where it was warm. Earl had seen Tommy Randall come in. The kids met up there all the time, and Earl really never thought of it as much as long as they didn’t make a mess of things. Gave him something to do usually, pick up a few beer bottles or what not. Most kids around the town weren’t too bad at all. A few bad seeds but what was one going to do? Even cutting the grass low, and pruning rose bushes got boring after while. Sometimes the kids would come by just to talk to him about things.

Tommy came to a stop right beside the graves of the Sharons, over in the corner of the cemetery. A large tree blossomed thickly upwards from the ground, the dark brown bark subverging in great thralls. The roots turned upwards exposing themselves from the ground, in places. Though it was cold this time of year, there were still a few leaves left on the enormous tree. Those things couldn’t be said about what was left of the rose garden. Though, where Thomas had asked Marissa to meet him, it was all silent. No one had been by the gardens all day, or the grave sites. Thomas let his fingers rake through his wet hair, squeaking as his fingers numbed due to the frigid conditions of the night. Tommy’s feet slopped forward as he leaned back against the tree his eyes closing tight and a bit painfully, as the water dripped down his face.

Marissa was a little late for her meeting with Tommy and she just knew it. Though with the rain, she had to take a few special precautions. Rain was always tricky for that sort of thing, and being thrust with her family to Bingo Night again this week definitely did a bit to spoil her plans. Marissa deeply wanted to see Tommy, and feel his warm touch. A touch that was looked at by her parents as definitely not the right sort of way a lady should act. But who were they to decide what was best for her? Secretly Marissa had already agreed to go steady with Tommy. Even despite what her family had told her. Against their best wishes, and though Marissa knew they were looking out for her. There were many more things for her to think about than just how she should be acting.

Like with every other week, the school’s gymnasium was filled from wall to wall with wooden desks pulled from the library and metal chairs donated by the PTA. All the main people from the city were in attendance, and carrying on with the social adventure they clung to like all tired and old traditions. A projector was set at the top most space broadcasting a bingo board with the numbers as Miss. Johnson pulled them out of the glass jar. Miss Johnson was always the one who conducted bingo. Since she became a teacher here it was her soul responsibility, and even gave her a bit of notoriety, other than being the wrinkled, coffee breathed math teacher who gave everyone detention at least once in their academic careers (usually for kids like Thomas it was more than once). Marissa leaned against the basket ball goalpost as she sipped at the purple Kool-Aid looking at the red haired beauty queen who was her best friend.

Karen Swanson, was an All-State cheerleader, all-varsity track runner, and of course thought to be the most beautiful girl in the school. Though Karen had always been there for Marissa and despite her reputation, she wasn’t as stuck up as many would have thought.

”Girl you got to get out of here.” Karen reminded Marissa, with that same dimple grin that won her the Miss Norman’s Inn three years running now.

”Don’t you think I know that? I’m just not sure how. Oh poor Tommy, he’s going to be heart broken. Specially you know… he always keeps his word.” Marissa returned giving a big grimace shimmering of the heart break she was feeling right now.

”Oh you don’t have to tell me. Remember the time he showed up at the football game during a tornado?”

”Yeah, he was in coma for four weeks after he got hit by Miss Potter’s car.”

”So the question isn’t if we’re getting you out, Marissa. It’s just how we’re going to be able to do it without being caught.” Karen mentioned to her friend.

”Yeah, and how I’m going to be able to get back without my parents catching on.” Marissa replied, as her head had turned to look at her parents wincing at them, especially as in turn they plucked back chips.

”Not to worry I have a plan… I can tell them your spending the night with me. We’ll say we need to go to your house and pick up some things.” Karen suggested looking at her parents. “I’ll tell my mom and dad I’m sick and we should go back to the ranch. That way no one can ask questions.” Karen said, quite happy with herself.

”Well I guess that’d work. I just feel… I don’t know. I’m a senior in high school and feel like I’m fourteen again. I hate my parents sometimes.”

”Hey my parents treat me the same way. Come on we should go speak to your parents…”

Mitch Shelly felt strange, like something wasn’t sitting right. Mitch couldn’t exactly put his finger on what was going on, but something definitely wasn’t right. Mitch couldn’t figure out what, but something… some feeling kept pricking in his mind. Mitch was rather sure that what ever it was it had to do with his new meta-power, even if he had yet to realize exactly what it was. Since he got to this town he’d been feeling funny. Mitch tried to remember the last thing, the last thing he had done before his last death. The details of his death, he had learned that the new meta-power he was granted each time he died had direct recourse with how he died. Mitch sat up from his bed his chin resting on his knees as he thought about it. It felt so real so sudden. He remembered how it felt, but as to at what hands he was still a bit hazy. Mitch wondered if the amnesia was coming back around, if some how the labs treatments had become counter productive. How could he not remember that which he fully wanted to remember?

It was cold that night. Mitch could remember how the snow looked, how it fell over Gotham City like a blanket of white. Mitch had gotten an e-mail from someone who claimed to be the Ray, from the Forgotten Heroes, and mentioned Immortal Man had been captured again. After what happened in Antarctica when he found out that Savage had captured The Immortal Man, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Mitch would come. So he met them just like the letter instructed. Mitch remembered getting off that bus at the 12th Street Bridge. Mitch could remember thinking about the hero known as Ragman, and remembered when Ragman helped him out, with information about the Labs, just a simple address then, and like that simple address in New York City, Mitch was now looking for just a simple address in Gotham City. Despite what everyone had said about the Homeless Hero, Mitch felt a kindred spirit. If only they shared one similar event in their lives. For like Ragman, Mitch too…

Mitch could remember his arms and legs were frozen stiff and numb before he found the meeting place that Ray had described in his message a small area right under Arkham Way’s overpass. Just as spoken about in his letter The Ray and Animal Man stood waiting for him under the bridge. Both heroes wore trench coats over their spandex, faces covered by masks. Ray waved at him, as he took a step forward, Ray’s eyes were blue, not the normal black that his powers caused his eyes to eclipse as. The Ray took a step forward, towards Mitch. Even as Ray took a step forward, Mitch felt that something was indeed wrong here, but what? Animal Man just gave Ray the largest grin his teeth glimmering an ivory white. “Good thing you came, Mitch. I was about to lose hope.” the Ray said, as he stopped just in front of the Resurrection Man.

“So what exactly happened?” Mitch asked not stepping any closer, wishing he knew what they were thinking. Mitch felt a bit alarmed at the whole situation. The way both of his former teammates looked at him. Mitch felt the electric begin to crackle on his finger tips. Even thinking about his last power made Mitch wish he hadn’t died yet.

“Well to be quite honest it hasn’t happened yet… You’re going to help us.” Mitch remembered wondering what they were talking about. But after those words everything went black. Everything fizzled around him. And Mitch seemed to have a block there-- Some sort of psychic wall… or so he thought. He couldn’t remember what happened after that incident.

Mitch lowered his legs against his bed mattress, his long silver hair rolling down over his stubble-lined face. The truth was that despite the blocks in his subconscious and the feelings in his head, Mitch had to assume what his meta-power was, and needed to go with the feelings. As nothing else made sense. This strange feeling pricked the back of his head again, the chills causing goose flesh to rise on the flesh of the Resurrection Man. Then he heard it, it was weak and it felt distant… but the word was clear… muddled with time, and distortion. Yet for a moment and just a brief moment, Mitch felt as though that word was caressing his cheek…

Help...

The word was simple and to the point. Mitch lifted his body off the bed, his boots clanking onto the wooden floor. He righted himself. Mitch’s hand went for his coat and hat as quickly as he could. Mitch wasn’t exactly the super-heroing type. Though, he did know one simple fact, someone needed help, and no one was around to hear the call, except he. And for that moment in time that’s really all that mattered.

Marissa couldn’t believe that whacked out plan of Karen’s had actually worked. Marissa held her coat close to her body as she let her footfalls plunge into the sticky ground of the cemetery. Her silken hair tapped against her leather jacket, saturated with the pouring rain. She had put on eye makeup before her parents made her go to the Bingo Night in the first place. If Marissa had her way she’d never go. Despite having friends who where also forced into going to the small town get together, she hated going. Marissa hated almost every aspect of small town living, and perhaps a bit of that was programming on the part of Karen. Marissa brought up her forearm to check the time. As she continued trudging along, hoping that she wasn’t too late for Tommy; that he’d not left her already.

As Marissa walked through the cemetery, a single figure dressed from head to toe in a black outfit crept out from behind one of the tombstones. His hands were gloved and balled up into fists. The shadows coursed over an exposed face as piercing blue eyes watched Marissa continue her hurried pace. The shadow felt his heart racing as he watched. How sure of herself this girl was. Everything was in ready, and his need to plunge his knife into her flesh seemed to grow in throws, at every second watching her body struggle from side to side.

The shadow who was watching Marissa really didn’t have much of a name to speak of. Most of the town didn’t even notice the rather slender blond haired man who entered the town. Nothing was asked of him. Simply, this shadow seemed to have just shown up, this shadow whose mind was smiling as he began to walk towards the woman. The shadow felt for the blade in his pocket as he walked picking up his pace as he continued after the woman. His footfalls were soft at first but grew louder. Loud enough for Marissa who’s mind was elsewhere to finally turn her head to see the glint of a knife held in the hand of the shadow, who’s name hadn’t been given. A nobody who would disappear after he enjoyed such an ecstasy.

Marissa’s head turned to face the man whose teeth shimmered in a yellowed transfixion. Marissa’s mouth opened agape as she watched the knife be drawn towards her. Marissa quickly gathered her jacket closer towards her and began to run at a fast pace away from her assailant... away from the shadow whose hand gripped the handle of a large knife affectionately. He bonded with the knife, felt as though his whole life and energy was the blade. The shadow only wanted one thing- to plunge the blade into the warm flesh and see Marissa’s life stilled. The reasons were not important to the shadow; there was no picking, no premeditation. Mainly the shadow was here in the graveyard, on a night like this and saw a perfect victim. Nothing more was important; perhaps if the shadow did question it, he’d realize just what he was doing.

Why Mitch Shelly ended up at the graveyard that night was beyond him. Perhaps it was something of irony, as when he originally woke up, two years ago, it was in a graveyard that his eyes opened. Now disoriented he returned. Though perhaps it was this new meta-power, that brought Mitch to the grave yard this late at night. Mitch’s eyes were staring at the words etched out on a large tomb stone.. “Here lies Mitchell F. Shelly”. It was eerie to say the least. Mitch knew his middle name didn’t start with an ‘F’, but it was still too close for him. Perhaps that was why Norman was so adamant on thinking he was related to someone else.

Then it came. The words shaking Mitch’s ears “HELP!” came the voice shrilly and true, not muffled through time like it was originally.

Mitch turned his head to see a body lunging into the air, the gleam of a knife drawn. Mitch watched in shock as the black clad fellow buried the knife deep into the body of the victim. Mitch watched motionless… in shock as the killer continued to ram his blade into the body of the victim. The killer screaming in victory as the blood splattered against his face. For what seemed like minutes Mitch stood just five feet from the trail as the woman… a girl who couldn’t be more than seventeen grabbed at soil trying to get away. Mitch stood steadfast his eyes aloof. How was it he heard the call and did not stop to save this woman? Mitch just watched in shock and horror as the killer continued to stab gashes into the girl’s body. Mitch wondered why he wouldn’t help her? For a mere moment Mitch wondered what it would be like to have that release, killed-- Finally dead.

As the killer finally stepped off the woman he turned to look at Mitch. The face was shadowed, but as the killer stood there with his blood-soaked body, Mitch watched him, the pale moonlight catching him in places. As the killer shrugged his shoulders to walk away his body flickered in the moonlight. There was a tear down one shoulder showing the skin of the killer, a pale muscular shoulder dotted with blood and lined with black ink in the shape of a single five-pointed star. Mitch’s eyes followed the killer as he walked away. Mitch stood there a moment, still trying to understand what he was feeling. Mitch knew he was supposed to save that woman, but…

Thomas finally gave up waiting for Marissa. Thomas stretched his arms out as he walked from behind the tree. His legs felt sore after waiting for as long as he had. He slumped his shoulders as he walked back along the trail. The rain still hadn’t given up, from its torrential downpour. Thomas walked silently for some time, his feet sticking into the muck. Then he saw it, a body lying there in the rain, wrapped up in a leather jacket. Thomas’ heart pounded as he ran towards his girl friend, tears rolling down his eyes before he even got near enough to her for him to see her. Thomas grabbed her up into his arms as he let his head hang low.

“WHY?” he screamed out! His throat felt hoarse as he did so. His breaths were wheezed as he tried to breathe through the water dripping under his lips.

Far off in a corner of the cemetery another man’s face was wet with tears. The Resurrection Man watched the two children there, Tommy grabbing his girlfriend’s dead body, clinging to her. In the distance Mitch could see the blue and red lights of a patrol car. Mitch knew he could have alerted the boy, just like he could have stopped the murder. Yet deep in Mitch’s mind he was jealous of Marissa. Mitch saw her release, and knew somewhere that he didn’t stop the murder because he himself fell back into the place… seeing someone else get his deepest wish…

Mitch saw Marissa get the release that he could not have.

To be continued...

NEXT ISSUE: Mitch has to deal with his decisions, as Tommy is arrested for the killing of Marissa. Tommy’s looking at a sentence for a crime he did not commit and only Mitch knows the truth. But can he prove it? Be here next time for the second part of No Escape!

So by now, you’re either wondering who Mitch Shelly is, or you know, and were one of the five people who actually bought the fantastic series, Resurrection Man during its initial and so far only run. Mitch is one of my all time favorite characters, so I guess it’s a good reason if any to write my first comic fiction about him. I’m sure this story is a bit bizarre and definitely not the usual high intensity stories that are found in the JLU 2001. But rest assured, its going to get more bizarre in the next two issues, but at the end you’ll understand why.

So thank you for reading my initial comic book fan fiction, and I hope you’ll join me for the next two issues of this series. If you like it or hate it please comment on it, as I’m new and I’m sure not up to the expectations if you’re used to reading all the great writers here. And though currently there are no plans on my part to continue a Resurrection Man series, if there’s enough people who want to read more about Mitch I might be talked into doing a follow up mini-series of some kind featuring the Man in Black.

- Jae Lizhini

Story © 2003-04 Jae Lizhini  and may not be reproduced without permission.