Pro Se Presents: November 2012

By Pro Se Press

Vigilantes! Dark Cookies! Ninjas! Cops! Dog Detectives! All this and more available this month in PRO SE PRESENTS #15. Authors Aaron Smith, Brad Mengel, David White, Adam Lance Garcia, and A. M. Paulson bring you two fisted action, spine tingling suspense, and even family friendly adventure in this issue, showing that New Pulp has something for everyone! Pro Se Presents 15 features great design work and art by Sean E. Ali! Pro Se -Puttin' The Monthly Back into Pulp!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301571314

Pro Se Press

Based in Batesville, Arkansas, Pro Se Productions has become a leader on the cutting edge of New Pulp Fiction in a very short time.Pulp Fiction, known by many names and identified as being action/adventure, fast paced, hero versus villain, over the top characters and tight, yet extravagant plots, is experiencing a resurgence like never before. And Pro Se Press is a major part of the revival, one of the reasons that New Pulp is growing by leaps and bounds.

Book preview

PRO SE PRESENTS

NEW AUTHORS - NEW VISIONS - NEW PULP FICTION FOR A NEW GENERATION

NOVEMBER 2012

Copyright © 2012, Pro Se Productions

Published by Pro Se Press at Smashwords

The stories in this publication are fictional. All of the characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Edited by- Don Thomas, Frank Schildiner, and Lee Houston, Jr.

Editor in Chief, Pro Se Productions-Tommy Hancock

Submissions Editor-Barry Reese

Publisher & Pro Se Productions, LLC-Chief Executive Officer-Fuller Bumpers

Pro Se Productions, LLC

133 1/2 Broad Street

Batesville, AR, 72501

870-834-4022

[e-mail]

www.prosepulp.com

Doc Panic copyright © 2012 David White

Back in Black copyright © 2012 Brad Mengel

Lieutenant Picard and the Holy Grail copyright © 2012 Aaron Smith

Requiem for the Cold, Dark Cookie of the Corporate Sales Department copyright © 2012 Adam Lance Garcia

The Stolen Necklace copyright © 2012 A.M. Paulson

Cover and Interior Art, Book Design, Layout, and additional graphics by Sean E. Ali

E-book design and layout by Russ Anderson

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DOC PANIC

by David White

BACK IN BLACK

by Brad Mengel

LIEUTENANT PICARD AND THE HOLY GRAIL

by Aaron Smith

REQUIEM FOR THE COLD, DARK COOKIE OF THE CORPORATE SALES DEPARTMENT

by Adam Lance Garcia

THE STOLEN NECKLACE

by A.M. Paulson

DOC PANIC

By David White

CHAPTER I

July, 1939

A sweltering heat hung over Hot Springs. It seemed to ooze from the city’s very pores, much like the steam of its famous springs.

Clinging to the shadows of the rooftop was a dark figure, clad from head to toe in a black, tight fitting outfit made of a very elastic material that hugged every muscle of his body. The vest held pockets and compartments for his tools. The boots resembled socks more than actual foot-wear. The gloves were of a special leather that allowed his hands to sense every feeling. The mask fit snuggly around his head, with a slot that showed only his eyes.

He sat on the roof in a calming lotus position, unmoving, statuesque. The sounds from Murphy’s Saloon below filtered their way upward. Murphy’s was but one of many gambling establishments that dotted downtown. Hot Springs was no stranger to hot temperatures in the middle of summer. The smells of stale liquor, cigar smoke, and filth mixed with sweat assaulted the senses. The full moon sat alone in a cloudless sky that seemed strangely magenta, as if the sun had refused to let go, keeping its normal glow a little peaked.

Midnight neared, but the action all across town was just starting to heat up to a mild boil. The gambling rooms were packed with people taking a shot at Lady Luck, while the whore houses were packed with men looking to spend their earnings on a good time. The dark figure had such control of his body that the sweltering heat did not faze him. His breath was calm and steady, with barely a hint of movement in his chest. He reached into a hidden pocket of his vest and took out a small vial which held a mixture of strange herbs and opiates, a concoction he refined while in Japan. It helped calm his inner demons, as well as opening the deeper recesses of his mind. Pulling the cork, he poured a small amount under his tongue, then put the resealed vial back in the hidden pocket. Patiently he waited, like a dark jungle panther ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. He closed his eyes as his thoughts began wondering to the events that had brought him here.

Beneath the mask was Phineas Montgomery; with flame red hair, boyish face, and a sprinkling of freckles. All bespoke of Scottish ancestry. A powerful and athletic build served to hide a dark and tormented mind which had witnessed dark and utter madness.

Phineas was heir to what had once been a virtual empire of power and wealth; as well as an unholy legacy of dark and evil madness.

His parents built the companies from the ground up, with their paws stuck in every cookie jar that had anything to do with chemicals and pharmaceuticals. As government contracts streamed in, they expanded their empire to include the city hospital and asylum. They basically lorded over all of Hot Springs, but rather than use their power for something good, they focused it on the dark arts; believing that the key to immortality lied in the senseless sacrifices of others.

In the end they were finally wrested from power and brought to justice. Both seemed quite mad, as eruptions of maniacal laughter broke out during their executions. Death is just the beginning, they said in unison, as thousands of volts surged through them. A sick and twisted smile was plastered upon their faces as smoke seeped out between their now motionless lips.

Phineas, only eight at the time, was forced to witness evils no child should. Poor street urchins, people who were homeless or deemed mentally unfit, those who none would miss, and who had no voice of their own were forced to be the sacrificial lambs upon an unholy altar, or subjected to experiments not meant for even the lowliest animal. Rapidly the images flashed through his mind, producing copious beads of sweat that the sweltering heat could not.

But Phineas found a savior in his Japanese servant Po who, without any thought for himself, whisked the young child away to his homeland to keep Phineas from further madness. Upon arriving in Japan, Po immediately began training Phineas in the ancient arts of Ninjitsu and Akido. He felt this was a good way to not only strengthen a young body, but more so a fragile mind.

The struggles were many and often. The edge of madness always looming dangerously close, waiting to engulf young Phineas. Upon reaching his eighteenth birthday, Montgomery returned to Hot Springs, spending the last two years rebuilding his parents crumbling empire. It was during this time he formed a plan to become a force against evil and corruption. Hot Springs would be the start, but eventually Phineas would travel to anywhere he might be needed.

The large bang of a door being slammed open brought Phineas out of his thoughts. Standing, he quietly moved to the roof edge.

The man who had burst through the door was Socks McElroy, head enforcer for Lance Hannigan, Hot Spring’s top mob boss. The man’s stature alone would have been enough to frighten most people. He stood nearly seven feet tall and weighed in at over three hundred pounds. Sunken sockets and obsidian eyes peered over large puffy cheeks. A thick furrowed brow and squared jaw added to his sinister appearance. Socks was as cold blooded as they came. Nothing pleased him more than watching someone squirm, hearing them squeal and plead as they stared into his murderous eyes.

He strolled along whistling without a care in the world. His finely tailored gray suit and matching fedora were neatly pressed. An expensive silk tie matched the scarlet handkerchief in his breast pocket. His size nineteen shoes were spit shined to a mirror finish. He was restless, the night had gone smooth and he hated when that happened. It meant he didn’t get to get his knuckles dirty. Nights like this always put him on edge.

Socks received his nickname as a poor overgrown child of ten. His parents, not being able to afford custom shoes for his already size fifteen feet, did the best they could. His mother fashioning a pair of sock like coverings out of old potato sacks. The kids, acting as kids are wont to, dubbed him socks from that moment on. He so hated the ridicule growing up that he made a promise to himself. He would be respected and feared, by any means. He worked his way up the ladder doing any dirty job the mob needed. He gained a reputation for being cold and merciless. This drew the head boss’s attention and, after a brief meeting, Socks was put in charge of collections and keeping the clientele in line.

Phineas followed along the rooftop as Socks made his way down the street past Wolfort’s grocery store. It was a simple matter of cutting through the alley to get to Rosie’s Place. Hers wasn’t the only whorehouse in town, but Socks got to play a little rough there, provided he paid for it. This of course presented no problems for him. Hell who cared if a couple whores got slapped around a little, he had a lot of tension