Issue 1: The bar
Our lonely figure balances his half empty glass by slightly tipping it over. At the same time, he rocks his stool back and forth. Barely maintaining his balance. The slow lights barely shine, which is fine. Otherwise, he would stand out in that dark bar full of cowards and superstitious. His concentration is absolute; his balance is perfect. But then… the light breaks through and the doors slam against the walls as the hands of his best enemy shatter his concentration.
“Tim! You missed the meeting!”
“So, it is true then. The shadows betray me.”
“May I sit here Timmy?”
The rocking stops and Tim grabs his glass with honest intensity.
“This is a nice bar Timmy. Why don’t we ever come here with the rest of the gang?”
“Might have to do with the fact that you don’t drink.”
“Yeah, but still… you know.”
“Can I get a diet soda for my friend here?”
“Thanks Tim! But, how did you know?”
Tim’s swallows his drink and signals the lovely lady behind the counter for a refill.
“It’s me Geoffrey. I always know. It’s what I do.”
“You take this whole writing detective comics a little too seriously don’t you think? Oh, thanks miss.”
While Geoffrey sips happily from the soda can Tim takes a huge delight in his answer.
“Says the guy who keeps delaying his Magnus opus.”
Geoffrey’s smile twitches just a little. Tim stares at his new drink but notices that Geoffrey is dying to speak.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Well, nothing that you didn’t already know. Tim; I’m really sorry about what happened.”
“Thanks Geoffrey. I’m already feeling better.”
“Do you want to…”
“Talk about it? Sure! I mean, you’re already here.”
“Exactly my thoughts Tim!”
Tim takes a really deep breath. Twice, Geoffrey in the meantime washes his teeth with his soda.
“What did they say exactly? And Geoffrey…”
“Yes, Tim?”
“Just drink your soda. Don’t play with it.”
“Sorry.”
Geoffrey begins talking and Tim limits himself to listen. Geoffrey being a perfectionist takes forever to relate the morning’s meeting. Forever. He speaks of Tim’s ongoing soon to be cancelled series, about the new guy, about the upcoming summer event, he remembers that Dannielle said something about killing one of the sidekicks.
“She says he’s a redundancy! He’s a legend! He’s part of the legacy of the company! How can he be a redundancy? People love him, that’s why I brought him back!”
“Geoffrey! Focus.”
He continues his retelling of the meeting and Tim continues to listen. He listens for a while.
“I’m the one who has to kill him you know.”
“What? Why?”
Tim finishes his drink with a semi honest smile.
“It’s kind of a funny story. It goes like this; first, Danny calls me to her office. Then, before anything else, before I can even sit down, she asks me if I have a story. Yeah! Damn right I have a story.”
Tim raises his glass and looks through it, he uses it as a telescope to reach Geoffrey’s soul.
“Is it about trauma and all that? Tell me about it. And there I go, just spilling my guts to her. Is it about trauma? Well, yeah. I want to write comics that matter.”
“It’s the one you told me about on Wednesday isn’t it? The one where they go to superhero therapy?”
Tim nods distractedly while Geoffrey orders a refill for his friend.
“It’s a solid idea Tim.”
“I know Geoffrey; but, tell that to Danny. Apparently, it’s not sexy enough. Apparently, superheroes talking about their, how did she phrase it? Ah yes! Talking about their feelings is not dark enough. Superheroes acknowledging the fact that they have struggles like everybody else is not enough.”
“Oh… She um, told you to make it a murder mystery, didn’t she?”
“Yep.”
Tim and Geoffrey drink in silence. A rather awkward silence if one should add. Anyway, Tim and Geoffrey wanting to keep talking cannot find the right conversation topic. Until Geoffrey’s mind gets the best of him.
“And how are you gonna end your run? D’ya think you can pull it off without a hundred issues?”
Audible irony ensues. Timothy wants to laugh and cry and curse and break his glass into a hundred pieces. Every piece would be as inconsequential as the next and its true form and shape would only make itself visibly known through a careful assembly of its crystallized components. But now… “Now it will always be incomplete.”
“You know Geoffrey, perhaps I should just stick to writing minis.”
“Whoa woa wo.”
Geoffrey almost inhales his soda but manages to avoid death that day in that particular bar. Tim feels his best enemy’s hand on his shoulder.
“Listen Tim, you… are a talented writer and I’m very sure you got stuff to work through. There’s nothing wrong with that and your books are fantastic pieces of fiction. And they’re superhero comics! And also, you have other stories that don’t make a lot of sense. It happens to everyone.”
Tim gets lost in Geoffrey’s smile but cannot get infected with it.
“I mean, how am I supposed to write stories that matter or that actually bring about new life to the characters if every idea that I have, goes against the so-called status quo?”
Tim was now quite upset.
“They want darker, edgier stories but they’re not willing to change anything. The character’s been thirty years for like; I don’t know, eighty years! How many crime bosses and killer clown plots can there really be?”
“Quite a lot…”
“No! It’s always the same, always the same cycles! And when they run out of ideas, which happens more often than not, they can always reboot with another idiotic crisis.”
“I wrote one of those…”
“But did it matter? There was another crisis after that, and a hundred and one tie-ins to go with it. God Forbid, we tell a self-contained story.”
“Well, they serve to expand the story…”
“C’mon Geoffrey! They dilute the story. And what’s worse is that nothing really happens! This guy is still a dark and lonely figure even though he has like seven sidekicks and a dog. I wanted to marry him and finally retire him, but no! How are we supposed to sell t shirts if he’s no longer a dark detective? They just want to recycle the same old tired formulaic stories over and over again. New number one everybody!”
And so, they go on. Sodas and drinks are ordered. Insults are shouted, praises are made. But in the end, nothing really changes; Tim remains lonely. Thinking only of his own interiority, while Geoffrey goes on with an honest smile but a secret crisis within. As Geoffrey walks home, he repeats Tim’s words again and again. “New number one everybody! Nothing really changes, nothing really matters, nothing ever truly ends.”
To be continued…
About the author
Axel Trujillo Ledesma was born in Mexico City, he grew up there as well. As a writer he is interested in producing short stories that explore different genres and deal with current themes.
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