Er, What?
You are Spider Jerusalem.
Spider is THE journalist of the future. He smokes,
he does drugs, and he kicks ass. The drugs are
going to eventually kill him but not before he
gets his way. And his way is the demise of the
failed American dream. Although full of hate,
he cares about his city. All he wants to bring
the world is truth. Spider Jerusalem,
conscience of the City. Frightening thought,
but he's the only one we've got.

What Gritty No Nonsense Comic Book Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I don't do the drinks or the drugs... but I like the character.
Guerilla Writing: Manila Unseen - Buried Past

Seven Panels: Row 1 - 3 panels; Row 2 - 3 panels; Row 3 - 1 wide panels.

Panel 1
Drenched elderly woman sitting in the backseat of the Benz with Emerson. She looks regal, like a well-preserved woman in her 50s. Her clothes are modern-timeless, and she holds a dripping wood-handled umbrella. She's Mrs. Martinez.

Emerson sits beside her, offering his handkerchief... which she accepts.

Caption: Emerson insisted we give her a ride, of course.

Mrs. Martinez: Thank you so much for your help. I didn't think the rain would catch me out.

Emerson: Don't mention it, Mrs. Martinez.

Caption: Bernardo didn't argue, and I needed someone who might have some clue as to what road I was driving on.

Panel 2
In the back, Mrs. Martinez is on her cellphone, gesturing grandly. Lenard drives in the back, looking at the two in the rearview mirror.

Caption: Naturally she insisted that she take us to her home and feed us dinner.

Mrs. Martinez: ... no, Nenita. Four of us for dinner, and please use the silverware we were about to pack tomorrow.

Caption: Naturally, we accepted.

Panel 3
In the back, Mrs. Martinez is sitting primly. Lenard drives in the foreground, pointing at something.

Caption: She was rich, apparently. She divided her time between her house in Batangas and her main residence in Makati. Her nephew lived nearby.

Lenard: Is that it? Is that your house?

Caption: It took us another hour to find the house in the rain. With no idea how to get back.

Panel 4
Very old house with a garden with plants and bamboo clumps and wrought-iron gates in the foreground. Shadows play across the front.

Mrs. Martinez: Yes, it is.

Panel 5
The Benz slides through the wrought-iron gates which are held open by rain-drenched helpers whose faces are hidden by hoods and shadows.

Mrs. Martinez: Welcome to my home.

Panel 6
The gates close, and the car nears the lit front door of the mansion.

Mrs. Martinez: I do hope you enjoy your dinner.

Panel 7
Wide shot of the interior of the house. They are just inside the front door, in the background of the center of the panel. It is a house that is old, and has signs of being remodeled. There are boxes with pictures and trinkets strewn about. In the foreground, the foyer has shelves half-filled with memorabilia. Old pictures line the wall, with gaps in between.

Caption: As soon as we stepped in, the storm intensified. The house groaned softly in protest.
It's VERY cool. Time for some reading and re-reading of the stories. It's interesting that despite being set in different decades, the stories seem timeless at the core. I wonder if that's because of the quality of the writing, or the fact that the Philippine situation hasn't changed all that much... or both?

Anyway, I hope to see this sell abroad some day...
Guerilla Writing: Binary Tree Poem - Pulp Poets

When asked for verses, they rush to comply.
Eager to please are they, when asked for verses.
They rush to comply, selling their craft to the unappreciative...

When asked for verses, eager to please are they;
Driven by deadlines and formats when asked for verses.
Eager to please are they, revising stanza after stanza.

They rush to comply, selling their talent to the unappreciative
Blinded by necessity, they rush to comply
Selling their craft to the unappreciative, they diminish themselves.

Driven by deadlines and formats, revising stanza after stanza
Blinded by necessity, they diminish themselves.
Guerilla Writing: Manila Unseen - Buried Past

Five Panels: Row 1 - 3 Panels; Row 2 - 1 Wide Panel; Row 3 - 1 Wide panel.

Panels 1 to 3 are a Tryptych of the 3 passengers of a car.

Panel 1
Bernardo Montalban is holding a balisong in both hands, admiring the craftsmanship. He's leaning back against the in the passenger seat of a not-too-new Mercedes Benz. The sun hasn't set yet, but stormclouds have made the road dark.

Caption: We were coming back from a business meeting with one our Batangas suppliers.

Bernardo: Are you sure these are better than the ones Manong Bambit made? How can this new guy sell them so much cheaper?

Panel 2
Emerson Ang sits serenely in the backseat.

Caption: We were making our way through the backroads of Batangas...

Emerson: Manong Bambit made balisongs for money alone. Alan pours his soul into making each one of those.

Panel 3
Lenard Caro is driving, learning forward with both hands on the wheel, brow furrowed in concentration.

Caption: ... trying to find the road back to South Super Highway...

Lenard: Fu**! It's gonna rain! We're gonna get stuck here!

Panel 4
The Mercedes Benz comes over a small hill and an elderly woman walking further down the road is visible. Clouds are darker and thick with rain. The wind buffets sturdy-looking trees.

Caption: ... when we first saw her.

Bernardo: Relax, pare. Think positive!

Panel 5
Same shot, with the Benz a little further ahead... but with everything drenched in a sudden, almost violent downpour.

Bernardo: Never mind.
You are Jonas Arcanghel a.k.a.

Which Baylans Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Guerilla Writing: Vera Cruz
Spaceliner air always smells stale. Airscrubbers keep it breathable, but do nothing for the smell. The Charioteer Guild always masks it with floral fragrances from Ravenna, or incense from Grail. But in the access corridors to the cargo spaces, you can always taste the air on your tongue.

Stale. Dry. Sterile.

Engineer Falkon's subordinates told me that Lord Ibrahim Juandastaas was found in one such corridor of a shipliner headed for Byzantium Secundus. They also told me that the body had been discovered because the airscrubbers had registered the overwhelming scent of decaying flesh and had sounded an alarm to the shipliner crew and sealed all access to the corridor. Engineer Falkon's subordinates also reminded me that shipliner air systems merely detect and measure the presence of certain particles rather than replicate an actual sense of 'smell' and kept reminding me until I threatened them with Inquisitorial censure.

Technosophy may be a danger to the soul's reflectiveness, but it is also incredibly annoying.

Lord Ibrahim Juandastaas' untimely return to the Pancreator's realm is troubling for three reasons.

First, he was the favorite of Baroness Zee Juandastaas, head of House Juandastaas interests on Pentateuch... a very influential and passionate noble of the lesser Houses.
Second, he was supposed to be on Vera Cruz... months away by jumproutes.
Third, he died because his internal organs were located beside him, neatly arranged... with no sign upon his person that might indicate how they'd violently vacated their natural place in the order of things.

Antinomy, the worship of the Dark Between The Stars, is a favorite and often convenient scapegoat for events with unfathomable causes. This event was no exception. Only the inherent danger of an uncontrolled flame in a spaceliner so far from planet or jumpgate prevented the fiery consecration of the late Lord Ibrahim's remains.

Now Lord Ibrahim's body is now headed to Vera Cruz. I have joined the growing entourage to this dead noble not only as a a former shieldmate of Ibrahim, but also as aide to Sister Delia Istar, noted Orthodox theologian and Inquisitor. She has been tasked to determine how Ibrahim had disappeared from his vacation home on Vera Cruz... and how the late Lord's internal organs had decided upon a most uncomfortable parting of ways with their master.