Bishop & Hancock's Pulse Fiction

By Pro Se Press

A two fisted, gun toting Private Eye! A Member of the French Foreign Legion waist deep in Intrigue! A Lady with a taste for Diamonds and Danger! Heroes many have thought lost to yesterday now blast their way into today in BISHOP AND HANCOCK’S PULSE FICTION! A Concept conceived by noted author Paul Bishop and contributed to by author and publisher Tommy Hancock, PULSE FICTION takes the best of the past and shakes and stirs it with today’s finest Genre Fiction writers! Encounter a cast of characters created by Bishop and Hancock and written into four color, over the top life by Eric Beetner, Barry Reese, D. Alan Lewis, Brian Drake, James Hopwood, and Hancock. Just like the bygone magazines of the past, PULSE FICTION brings rich, vibrant characters embroiled in death defying adventure to readers, characters that will return in later volumes crafted by these and a whole myriad of other authors! Want stories that will get your heart racing, your blood pumping? You’ll find them here in BISHOP AND HANCOCK’S PULSE FICTION VOLUME ONE!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: May 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310435829

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

PULSE FICTION

Copyright © 2014 Pro Se Press

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.

Thomas Gunn, The Man from Shadow Limb, The Last Ace copyright © 2014 Tommy Hancock

Holly Lake, Mace Bullard, Doctor Darkness and family copyright © 2014 Paul Bishop

All stories are the property of their respective authors, with acknowledgments to creator of characters used

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE INSANITORS

By Barry Reese

THE HONOR OF THE LEGION

By James Hopwood

NEVER ENOUGH CORPSES

By Brian Drake

DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL’S WORST FRIEND

By Eric Beetner

THE MAN FROM SHADOW LIMB

By Tommy Hancock

CRY BLOOD

By D. Alan Lewis

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

THE INSANITORS

by Barry Reese

Chapter I

The Tablet

Machu Picchu, Peru – 1934

Lilly Hawks crouched in the darkness, a smile touching her cupid-bow lips. Her strawberry blonde hair fell in gentle curls over her shoulders and her green eyes seemed to glitter in the moonlight. She wore a knee length gypsy style skirt and a peasant blouse, with sandals under her feet. If not for the color of her skin and the pleasant scent of vanilla that clung to her, she might have passed for a local.

It’s so beautiful, she whispered, looking around at the area. So much of it had yet to be restored but you could still feel the weight of history in the place. It was like stepping back into the past.

Be quiet, a male voice hissed from the shadows that surrounded her.

Her smile turned into a mischievous smirk but she did as she was told. Her father, world-famous scientist/explorer Donovan Hawks, was not in the mood for her playfulness this evening.

She couldn’t see him, of course. He was too good at blending into the night. But she could sense his well-ordered presence nonetheless.

Mentally, she went over all the things she had learned about Machu Picchu. She loved learning things and her father’s current… career… allowed her to delve into subjects that no university curriculum could match.

Hiram Bingham had brought this site to international prominence in 1911 and now virtually anyone with any interest in archaeology was at least somewhat familiar with the Lost City of the Incas. Located nearly 8,000 feet above sea level, the site was believed to have been built as an estate for the Inca Emperor Pachacuti. Established around 1450, it had been abandoned by the time of the Spanish Conquest. While locals knew of the site’s existence, the outside world forgot what little it had known of Machu Picchu.

Bingham had parlayed his fame into a career in politics, Lilly remembered. She couldn’t fathom why anyone would give up a life of exploration for the seedy world of governance.

Something unpleasant suddenly disturbed Lilly, ruining her appreciation of the setting. It was both her gift and her curse that her mind was more highly evolved than that of others… she could pick up images and thoughts, though it was somewhat difficult to control. In time, her father felt certain that she’d be able to not only consciously read the minds of others but also influence them. That last bit frightened her – it seemed a terrible temptation and far more power than anyone should possess.

They’re coming, she said softly, knowing her father’s keen hearing would pick up her words.

As if on cue, the sounds of a truck driving up the mountain’s single dirt road split the night. It was a pickup truck, with two men seated in the front and three more riding in the rear. The trio in the bed of the truck wore rifles slung over their shoulders. They were swarthy looking and dressed in threadbare shirts and dirty trousers. Hired killers plucked from the local underworld, Lilly reasoned. She tried to avoid touching their minds but it was nearly impossible to miss their crude thoughts.

The man behind the wheel was much more refined. He brought the truck to a stop just in front of one of the larger ruins. He opened the door and stepped out, looking wildly out of place in his white suit and hat. His short blond hair and piercing blue eyes were visible even in the gloom.

From the passenger side emerged a broad shouldered man with shaggy black hair and a slightly Cro Magnon brow. This modern day Neanderthal wore a checkered shirt whose sleeves had been cut off and denim pants. The clothes looked far too small for him.

A rustle of fabric was all the noise her father made as he crouched at her side. Stay out of the big man’s head.

Lilly pursed her lips in annoyance but said nothing. She loved her father dearly and there were times when being Daddy’s Little Princess worked to her advantage but his continual over protectiveness was a lot less endearing now that she was a grown woman.

The guy who looked like a caveman was not human, thus the warning her father had given her. He was something closely related to Man but far enough removed that it was never good to go poking around in their heads… hence the name Insanitors. Their very presence caused madness in those around them, though it took some time for this effect to become noticeable. In the short term, there was a loosening of morals and increasing aggression.

In other words, people became amoral jerks when around an Insanitor. Given enough time, they became gibbering idiots.

Lilly’s mind reached out, grazing the well dressed man’s consciousness. His name was Karl Albrecht and he was a German-American whose father manufactured railroad parts. Albrecht was a member of the Friends of the New Germany organization, founded the year before by Heinz Spanknöbel. Spanknöbel had already been ousted as leader and Albrecht had visions of eventually taking that role for himself. His ultimate ambitions were much larger than simply being a Nazi leader, though… Lilly could see that without even digging very deep.

Stay here, her father said, interrupting Lilly’s mental eavesdropping. She turned her head, intending to tell her father to be careful, but she held her tongue. Not only would it have been hypocritical to be protective of him after her own thoughts a few moments before, but he was gone anyway.

***

Donovan Hawks moved like a wraith through the night. Tall and gaunt, his wiry frame was wrapped up in the protective fabric of a black tunic and pants. A heavy hooded cloak, leather boots and a small domino mask completed the garb of Doctor Darkness, the identity he had adopted upon his return from that disastrous trip into the Mayan jungles. He had lost so much there… his wife and his very spirit. But he had gained much, as well… amazing wealth being the least of it. That money had allowed him to finance the creation of his equipment, which gave him abilities far beyond those of normal men.

Doctor Darkness moved through the tall grasses, flexing his knees as he jumped upwards. He remained airborne, the unique gravity defying technology housed in his cloak allowing him to levitate for long periods. He soared up higher over the men below, who were beginning to fan out. The goons who had been riding in the rear of the truck were brandishing their rifles with purpose.

The nocturnal hero settled down on the roof of a large building directly overlooking the nefarious group. He reached up into his hood and tapped a nearly invisible device secreted into the canal of his left ear. By activating it, he was able to enhance his hearing a thousand fold, allowing him to hear the conversation below as clearly as if he’d been standing right in their midst.

Albrecht was saying to the gunmen, You remember what you’re looking for? Do you need to see the drawing again?

One of the men shook his head. You’ve shown it to us many times. We all know it.

Good. Then get busy. I don’t want to waste my entire evening out here.

You never told us what the guns were for.

Albrecht exchanged a Can-You-Believe-This-Guy? look with the Insanitor. Shaking his head, he replied, We’re not supposed to be here. You know that, right? That’s why I’m paying you so much and why we’re out here in the middle of the night! So if someone shows up and tries to stop us, you shoot them. He tapped his head and then his chest. Here or here. I don’t care which. But you shoot them and you kill them. Understand?

The three locals wandered away, muttering to each other.

Albrecht spread his arms and shrugged at the Insanitor. This is why we need some standards in this world. The lesser races are simply not capable of higher thinking. Have you ever heard of Rudyard Kipling?

I’ve heard of him, the man with the heavy brow replied in a guttural voice. But I don’t read much.

Well, he spoke of the so called White Man’s Burden. I agree with the sentiment that these lesser peoples aren’t capable of ruling themselves but I disagree with his assertion that it’s our responsibility to do it for them. Let them all wither and die if they’re too stupid to flourish. The problem is that they’re like rats and procreate too much. I hear that the Nazi Party is coming up with a possible solution for all this but who knows if it’s true? Could be just rumors. Albrecht brought out a cigarette and a set of matches. Do you smoke?

The Insanitor fixed him with a cool stare. He had a way of standing with shoulders rolled forward, enhancing the image of him as a Neanderthal. No.

Can’t blame you. A filthy habit. Albrecht lit his cigarette and tossed the used match to the ground. I’m looking forward to getting back to the States. He paused for a moment and smiled. I do hope you and your friends remember all the risks I’ve taken on your behalf.

It won’t be forgotten.

Good to hear. Albrecht took a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes shining in the dim light. Very good to hear.

***

The three local men split up, moving through the ruins with great purpose. None of them knew why the German-American and his looming friend wanted the stone tablet but ultimately they didn’t care. They were being paid well so why would they be concerned if the men wanted to steal part of their heritage and put it in a museum somewhere?

The oldest of the trio had been the one to speak to Albrecht. His English was the best and he was of an age where he no longer feared anyone. If death found him, he was at peace with himself and the things he had done.

As he entered the crumbling structure of an old building, he was considering what he would do with his earnings. Those musings paused when he heard a brief rustle of fabric behind him. He turned, expecting to see a wild animal of some kind… Instead, he came face-to-face with a white man dressed in dark clothing. Beneath the hood the man wore, he could just make out pale white skin and a mask of some kind.

Before the gunman could raise his rifle, Doctor Darkness was in motion. He seized the barrel of the gun and gave a mighty downward pull, bending the metal as easily as other men might roll up a newspaper. He then yanked it free of the native’s grip and tossed it aside.

We’re going to have a nice, quiet chat, do you understand? The Doctor’s voice was little more than a hiss but the other man caught every word, as well as the barely concealed threat it contained.

I understand, he stammered.

Good. You’re looking for this, correct? Doctor Darkness reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a stone table that looked identical to the one that Albrecht had shown to the men.

Yes!

I’m going to give it to you and you’re going to take it to Albrecht. Confusion was evident in the man’s eyes and Doctor Darkness smiled coldly. You won’t mention anything about me and you’ll take whatever he was going to pay the three of you and blow it on alcohol and women.

The man nodded, having already made those same plans. My friends…

Are missing and won’t be returning.

Did you--?

I’m asking the questions here. Doctor Darkness leaned in close, wincing slightly at the unwashed smell that wafted off the local man’s body. The big fellow with Albrecht. Does he have a name?

Albrecht called him Ira.

And where are they staying?

The International Hotel.

Good. Doctor Darkness took a step back. The roof of the building they were in was lined with large holes, letting in shafts of moonlight. As the gunman gaped, Darkness moved into one of those beams of light and began to levitate upwards. He vanished into the night sky.

Swallowing hard, the local man looked down at the tablet and studied the images carved onto its surface. The words there were written in no language that he had ever seen before but that meant little – he was not a particularly learned man, despite his knowledge of English. The images, though, they spoke to something located deep within the recesses of his brain: they showed a woman, crudely depicted, upon an altar of some sort. A man with the head of some inhuman beast was either about to ravish her or devour her whole.

From outside, Albrecht’s voice called out impatiently. Come on, men! Are you all taking naps out there?

Frowning slightly, the man wandered out, holding the tablet out in front of him.

Albrecht laughed and hurried over to take the object. Good work! Good work! I knew you’d be the one to find it. Those other two are lacking your mental faculties! He looked around and shouted for the others to join them.

They won’t be coming.

Albrecht looked sideways at the man, a slow smile slowing spreading over his face. You’re a sly one, aren’t you? Didn’t want to share the wealth, eh?

The only answer he received was a shrug, which was enough for Albrecht.

The Insanitor named Ira made a grunting noise. There’s no need for us to stay now. Let’s go.

I quite agree, Albrecht replied. Let’s drive straight to the airport. We can share a glass of bubbly on the way home. Turning back to the local, who was still standing there with a dazed look on his face, he fished out a wad of bills and tossed them into the air. Enjoy yourself, old man. I trust you can find your own way back to town?

The native said nothing, not even when Albrecht and the Insanitor had begun to drive away. He bent down and began to pick up his money, laughter starting to bubble up madly from between his lips.

He thought of the flying man with the anger in his eyes… and he knew that death was looming in Albrecht’s future.

***

When Doctor Darkness returned to his daughter, he found her standing near the unconscious bodies of the other two native gunmen. Did it work? he asked.

I think so. I hate using them for practice. Seems wrong.

They’re criminals. The other alternative would be killing them.

Lilly nudged one of the men with the toe of her shoe. He was sleeping soundly, a little smile on his lips. I tried to convince them they’d decided to become better people. This one is going to dedicate the rest of his life to helping orphans.

A nice goal. And the other one?

He’s going to become a gardener.

Darkness fixed his daughter with a curious gaze. A gardener?

I like flowers. They’re very soothing. Lilly put her hands on her hips and changed the subject as her father took out another of his many gadgets and began twisting a dial on its surface. "Please tell me again why we went to the trouble of finding out what they were after and rushing down here to Peru so we got here ahead of them… and then we give the tablet to them?"

Because I put a tracer on it. I should be able to track them for a distance of up to a hundred miles. I found out what they wanted but not why. That’s the key.

Lilly suddenly blinked as wind began to blow very briskly, sending grit and debris flying toward her eyes and face. She raised a hand and futilely tried to protect her hair.

Above them, moving through the clouds, was the flying fortress that they both called home. Dubbed Nocturne City by Doctor Darkness, it was powered by huge anti-gravity engines of the same technology as his cloak, though on a much grander scale. Resembling nothing more than a European style castle, complete with trailing vines of ivy up and down its stone-work walls, Nocturne City had enough living space to hold a complement of nearly three dozen people, plus areas for them to work in laboratories and