Issue Two: Pages Four, Five and Six.

What do you know, I wrote a few more pages in less than 6 months.

I went back and combed through everything I've written so far of this story and have found a few continuity inconsistencies between what I wrote/intended initially and what has actually come to pass/I'm now planning. For those few of you who were following this before or for anyone who has gone back and read what I've written thus far (even less likely), you might notice some of these inconsistencies and be puzzled. I was, too. I'm noticing now some of these problems and will do my best, once the story is fully written, to go back and clean it all up so it makes a little more sense.

Also, for anyone new who may be reading this, here are a few of the jargony terms of comic book scripting:

CHARACTER: (OP) means the character listed who is speaking is off-panel.

CAP: means caption, which is just like a little box, usually of expository information.

Splash page, if there will be any in this issue, are full page panels; some people call them poster shots...i call 'em splash pages (I just watched Sling Blade).

Anyway, the next three pages:

PAGE FOUR (six panels)

Panel 1. Interior of the car. We see the driver, wearing a Bill Clinton mask and the GOON in the passenger seat, wearing a Ronald Reagan mask; in the back seat, we see two men, one wearing a Jimmy Carter mask, the other John F. Kennedy. CRATERFACE CURTIS is the one w/ the JFK mask, and he is pulling it off of his face.

CURTIS:

Whose fucking job is it to case the marks before we hit ‘em? I know I’m new to this crew but I ain’t new to the game. We barely got our asses out of there intact with that big mother fucker sittin’ at the door!

Panel 2. GOON w/ Reagan mask, who from this point on we’ll just call REAGAN, turns back to CURTIS.

REAGAN:

Look, you mighta been somebody with Bronson, old timer, but you ain’t got the clout to talk that way around here. We run our crew the way we run our crew. That ain’t none of your concern. Follow?

Panel 3. Tight on CURTIS, who is obviously at his wits end with the juvenile insolence of his new compatriots.

NO DIALOGUE

Panel 4. The car pulling up outside of Van Cleef’s office. Two fellows standing guard at the door, but not too conspicuously.

CAP:

Van Cleef’s.

NO DIALOGUE

Panel 5. On the sidewalk as the men from the heist exit the vehicle. One of the two guards at the door motions for CURTIS to come closer.

GUARD:

Boss wants to see you.

Panel 6. Closer in on the guard as CURTIS passes him, headed into the threshold of the building. CURTIS is glaring with reserved contempt at the guard as he is stopped on his attempt to enter.

GUARD:

Leave the piece with me.

PAGE FIVE: (six panels)

Panel 1. Interior of VAN CLEEF’s office, which could not be any more the polar opposite of BRONSON’s office; if BRONSON is Don Corleone, VAN CLEEF is Tony Montana. VAN CLEEF is all about short-sighted decadence and his office should reflect that. His office should appear as though a coke-addled party ended the moment CURTIS walked in the door, complete with passed out strippers and paraphernalia strewn about. CURTIS enters, albeit hesitantly. VAN CLEEF is behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the desk.

VAN CLEEF:

Just the man I wanted to see. Sorry about the heat in here. What can I say, I like it hot. I trust the job went well?

Panel 2. CURTIS, taking a seat at VAN CLEEF’s desk.

CURTIS:

Not exactly how I would’ve run the job, with all these fuckin’ kids, not much older than the fresh crust on their daddy’s jizz rag. Not much smarter, neither. But we made it through.

Panel 3. VAN CLEEF straightens up a bit to speak more candidly with CURTIS.

VAN CLEEF:

Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you’re not new to this business, Curtis. You an’ me come from another school than these two-bit morons I got workin’ for me now. These kids today, I don’t know what to do with them. They got no respect for the work. Maybe they’re in it for the thrill, I dunno. I pay ‘em well, maybe it’s the money.

Panel 4. Back on CURTIS, a nice tight shot on his face, slightly leaned down, looking up toward VAN CLEEF. We see a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek; we don’t know if this is because of the heat or the weight of what CURTIS anticipates VAN CLEEF to be getting at.

VAN CLEEF: (OP)

That’s what I like about you, Curtis. You respect the work. You understand how things in our world operate. You respect the business.

Panel 5. Now on VAN CLEEF again, who we see opening and reaching into the top center drawer of his desk.

VAN CLEEF:

What I don’t get…

Panel 6. VAN CLEEF, brandishing a Beretta 92, chrome plated with a mother of pearl grip. He’s not necessarily pointing it at CURTIS, but making it well known to him that he could kill him at any moment without any considerable effort.

VAN CLEEF:

…is why you would leave a cushy job as Bronson’s first pick on big money jobs to come work bullshit pawn jobs with my bottom tier screw up fuckwads. Care to clarify for me?

PAGE SIX (three panels)

Panel 1. Back in the kitchen with GUY, who is still tied to the chair, beaten and bloody, telling us our story.

GUY: (to reader)

At this point, I know you might feel a little lost. Like I said, I’m still piecing it together, myself, but trust me, it’s going to make sense.

Panel 2. Still on GUY.

GUY: (to reader)

Well, as much sense as a story about a bunch of paranoid grand theft gangsters can make, anyway.

Panel 3. A nice, big panel of our closing image from last issue: GUY behind the bank, abandoned by CURTIS and the rest of the crew (that rhymes!).

CAP:

“But, getting back to the bank job…”

GUY:

Shit.

Thanks and Stay Tuned,

-Aaron J.

What?! A New Post? Have I entered another dimension, beyond that which is known to man? Issue Two: Pages One, Two and Three!

So, yeah, it's been a while. Sorry about that.

A long time ago, meaning over Christmas break, I outlined the whole 3 issue plot for this Clay Cavalier story. I finished the first issue during that time, and even the first few pages of the second issue, knowing that once school started, I would likely abandon the project in favor of not failing at life. That's basically what happened.

But, now that it's summer, and has been for well over a month, I'm returning...sort of.

I totally lost the full outline I had written for the series, because I wrote it all long form on a legal pad. But, alas! I remember most of it!

I scrapped what I had of the second issue and started fresh. Hopefully this issue won't be quite as bad as the first. I'm learning the form and trying to grasp "pacing" and "interesting stories," which are both entirely foreign concepts to me, so bear with me.

Anyway, here are the first three pages of issue two. I'm hoping that starting this will ignite in me some feeling of responsibility toward finishing the project...only time will tell.

ISSUE TWO!

PAGE ONE (four panels)

Panel 1. Back to the kitchen with GUY, telling us his story.

GUY: (to reader)

Hey, thanks for sticking with me through this whole thing. It’s gotten pretty hairy and I’m just now piecing together everything that happened to get me here.

Panel 2. Still on GUY.

GUY: (to reader)

Like, there are certain developments that just became clear to me recently. I know you wanna know about the bank…I’ll get there, I’ll get there…

Panel 3. Wide and high establishing shot back inside BRONSON’S OFFICE, which toes the line between “classy” and garish. We see, sitting at his desk, BRONSON, speaking across the desk to CRATERFACE CURTIS. Standing guard at the door is CLAY CAVALIER.  

CAP:

“…but let’s start here first."

BRONSON:

C.C., you and I have a long history together. You’ve been my number two since we ran Cardinale out in ’88. Now, I know I don’t need to tell you this, but for the sake of satisfying my loquacious nature, indulge me.

Panel 4. Medium shot over the shoulder shot. We see CRATERFACE CURTIS in the foreground, back to us. Looking beyond him is the focus of our panel, BRONSON, sitting behind his desk, cigar still in hand, as always.

BRONSON:

We’ve lost too much territory to Van Cleef and his crew.

That can’t continue to happen.

That ‘Angel Eyed’ son of a bitch has got another thing coming to him if he thinks I’m just gonna roll over and continue to let him fuck me like this.

So, here’s where you come in.

PAGE TWO (three panels)

Panel 1. Now we’re on CURTIS, listening intently. Here we might see a vague indication of tedium and ennui directed at BRONSON, but not so much that it would cause alarm. This sort of indication should be a ‘second read’ indication, something that isn’t readily apparent but can be put together later upon revisiting the book, knowing the final outcome.

BRONSON: (OP)

Van Cleef is a dumb son of a bitch and he’s hurtin’ for men. He’s put out word he’s lookin’ for some new guys to add to his regular heist crew. Now he knows who you are, of course, he’s not that dumb, but I know how persuasive you can be.

Panel 2. Tight on BRONSON, blowing a puff of smoke from his last take from his cigar.

BRONSON:

Convince him.

Get him to take you in, do some jobs, earn his trust—

Panel 3. Back on BRONSON, tight on his face, leaning in a bit for effect, looking straight at CURTIS (or to the reader, really), head tilted down slightly, just so we can see a slight shadow cast from his brow, showing us just how menacing he really can be.

BRONSON:

--then do right by me and stab that cocksucker right through the fuckin’ spine.

PAGE THREE (four panels)

Panel 1. Exterior, street-level shot of the outside of a pawn shop (go ahead and make it GOLD & SILVER for those in the know). The street is quiet, nothing out of the ordinary.

CAP:

“So, if I’ve got the timeline worked out…”

NO DIALOGUE

Panel 2. Same shot from Panel 1, but now we see, bursting through the storefront window from the inside of the store, a big, bald white fellow with a goatee (read: RICK from PAWN STARS), having been violently thrown through the window.

SFX:

BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!!

NO DIALOGUE

Panel 3. Again, same static shot, but now we see, climbing through the window and coming out the front door, 3 dudes, all dressed in the same black suit/white shirt/black tie combo, this time each wearing different presidential masks (like POINT BREAK).

GOON:

Where’s the fucking car!?!

Panel 4. Again, same shot, now with the getaway car screeching up to the curb. Let’s make this one the famous 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale from the Evil Dead (and every other Raimi film, actually) trilogy.

OTHER GOON:

It’s always the asshole driving the car that decides to be late!

Thanks and stay tuned,

-Aaron J.