HAWKEYE

* last issue

I sighed. It was going to be one of those nights. "Sure Gayle. I remember one time, just after I had split from the team...."

Set the Wayback machine, Sherman, it’s ancient history time.

Comic Book and Science Fiction Convention:

Dealers, Creators, Special Galactic Trek Guests

Costume Contest Today!

There was at least one female star from Galactic I would have given my eye teeth to have met. That 8 of 13 chick had a perfect 2 of 36C in my book. I also remembered seeing some of the pictures of last year's costume contest and, while most of the contestants had been super geeks, a few of the chicks were pretty hot. Besides a few of their costumes would have made most of them instantly eligible for a Playboy centerfold. With visions of foil, flesh and duct tape in my brain I decided to shuck the purple, get into a pair of jeans and a T and make like a tourist, just for a laugh.

Old habits die hard though. I still had my gear shoved in a duffel bag as I headed down to the convention center. I knew I was getting close when I spotted one the characters from Wyvernball X standing on a street corner giving directions to a gaggle of camera clad Japanese tourists. A few yards farther along there was a chubby woman, wearing a Incredulity Maid T-shirt and a ragged red cape, standing at an ATM.

I finally got to the convention center and went in. There were literally hundreds of people there. I started following the signs that read 'Comic Convention Tickets... this way". I kept following... and following.. and following. I was just starting to wonder if I was being rooked by one of those 'This Way to the Egress' things that P. T. Barnum had invented when I finally came to the end of the lineup. There had to be about two hundred people in front of me, and this was just the lineup to buy tickets. While I had been searching for the end of this line I had passed another one, about the same length, that was actually the one to get in. Under other circumstances I would have chucked the whole thing but some of the things I had seen and heard as I had passed just intrigued me way to much to leave now.

First there were the way these people were dressed. Now I grant you that most of them looked like me, jeans, T shirts, runners or boots. Then there were the others... one guy in a full tuxedo, complete with one of those ridiculous white ties that no one but a nuclear engineer or brain surgeon could tie; at least two women in bikinis so small that they barely met New York's minimum decency laws (one of those women looked like it would be criminal to have dressed her in more, the other one was a walking advertisement for a return to the Victorian days of full cover-up). I saw costumes that were obviously thrown together with spare sheets and magic markers and others that made mine and the Avengers' look like amateur creations.

Then there were the scraps of conversations I had caught as I had traipsed to the end of the lineup. "That guy is a hacker. He couldn't write his way out of an Archie comic." "I never pay attention to anything that is pre exigency. After all, it was all wiped out so it isn't canon anymore." "Look, you have to read Custodians. It is what the craft is all about." "Yeah, I grant you that he's a great character, but how on earth can any woman want to bed a can opener?" "How can you defend the Assailment plots? They violate continuity and the full bleed art makes them look like crap!"

I had absolutely no idea what any of these people were talking about, but they sure did get excited about it. A couple of the more vocal guys almost came to blows and got hauled away by the security guys, who were in full makeup and looked like a cross between the offensive line of a football team and a bunch of alien stormtroopers. Now the makeup and the costumes were pretty weird but I had fought along side of stranger than them, and in a tussle I sure wanted these guys on my side. They were likely all bar bouncers making a bit of extra cash, or else out of work adventurers like me. Geez, maybe I should have applied for a job here.

Some officious looking character in a formal jacket and tails, baggy pants and Grateful Dead shirt came down the line and handed each of us a three page form and told us to fill it out and hand it in when we bought our tickets. So there we were, a couple of hundred geeks, and me, all leaning pages on the walls or each other's backs and trying to fill them in before our pens went dry from trying to write with them at the wrong angle.

I finally neared the front of the lineup and that's when I saw the prices. Outrageous! They wanted thirty bucks just for one day, fifty for two days and seventy five for all three days. I mentally counted my cash in hand and tried to figure out if I could really afford this just to kill a few hours. After all, I wasn't collecting an Avengers paycheck any more. I never was much for keeping a budget but I decided if I didn't buy too much beer over the next week I could still manage it. I coughed up enough for a one day pass, took my ticket and headed for the other lineup, the one that would finally get me in.

It seemed to take forever but I got to the head of that line and that's where things got a bit sticky. Seems they were on a big anti-shoplifting campaign and they expected me to check my bag. I didn't really want to, I felt naked without my gear fairly close, but I figured what could possibly happen? I might get caught between two people trying to buy the same Golden Age issue or something but there certainly wasn't going to be any call for Hawkeye the Marksman at a comic convention. I surrendered the duffel and pocketed my claim ticket.

Of course it wasn't until I got inside that I found out that there was an additional charge to go see the TV guest stars, including the one I had wanted to see. I was not about to dish out any more cash so I decided just to make the best of it and check things out. It was weird but I had to admit it was fun. There were all kinds of people rooting through back issue bins and even more checking out the toys and action figures. Others were lining up to get autographs from various artists, writers and lower echelon (I looked that word up once when I heard Cap use it) TV stars.

I knew that Marvel Comics had been publishing some Captain America comics and I thought I might pick up a few. Not that I had any plans to see any of the team again, but if I ever ran into the old war-horse I could rib him about them. I walked up to one of the dealers and started looking at the boarded, bagged books, and just about freaked when I saw what people were paying for them. Obviously all comic fans were independently wealthy. Man, I remember when comics were cheap entertainment for kids. I wondered what ever happened to all those comics Barney and I had before we got shipped off to the orphanage. Come to think of, I wondered what happened to everything of ours, and mom's and dad's. Just about then my train of thought was broken by a ruckus in the next aisle.

There was lots of noise around; people hawking merchandise just like the barkers used to do at the carney; friends hollering greetings to each other up and down the aisles; even folks standing on tables to show off their products; this was something different.

At first I thought it was just an argument between a buyer and a seller. When it got louder I figured it was another pair of over enthused fanboys debating some point of obscure continuity. Then I heard a couple of screams and a crash and saw some character jump to a tabletop. He was a right strange one, and considering this crowd that was really saying something.

I figured him for about six feet tall, although it's hard to judge the height of someone who is standing on a folding table, and wearing platform books at that. He had a cape and a mask and a kind of garish costume with a picture of a big pair of dice on his chest, none of which really went with the Coke bottle glasses or the high squeaky voice. He was skinny, even too skinny for the spandex he was wearing and he didn't look like much of a threat, aside from the staff he was carrying.

I still didn't think much of it. The security guys could handle him, I mean, it was their job, right? I saw a few of them heading that way so I turned my back and tried to ignore it. After all, I wasn't in costume; this was a day off. I went back to checking out some issues of Peril Dame, hoping to find one of those famous shower scenes, but I couldn't help hearing what was going on behind me.

"Okay, buddy, put down the big stick and get off the table."

"No! Get back, you are unworthy to approach me!"

"Look, we don't want any trouble, pal. Now just get down and come with us quietly before we have to get rough."

"Bah, my psyche points are high enough to defeat all of you. I calculate that your physical prowess is inversely proportionate to your intellectual deficiency, raised to the square root of the fourth power. It is all part of the plan, the plan that has prevailed for decades and was revealed to me by the mighty Dan Dee!"

Dan Dee? Spokesman and sometimes writer for Marvel Comics and master of really corny alliteration? Now I knew the guy was off his nut. I remembered Dan from when I was reading comics as a kid and I knew he had done some writing on Cap's book but as a creator of master plans??? Even comics don't have plots that stupid, although some of them are pretty close. I had to turn back and see what was happening, even though I felt like a bit of an ambulance chaser like the rest of the crowd, who were now pushing closer to the action.

One of the security goons decided that he had had enough and started to climb up on the table. The costumed guy swung his staff; there was a loud crackle, a flash and then the guard was flying half way across the room. A few of the onlookers started to scream and yet another guard went flying. Looked like it was time for the hero of the archer set to save the day.

There was just one little problem...

All of my Hawkeye stuff was locked away in a checkroom, in cubicle 4287B.

Dice Chest was still ranting away as I tried to get past the throngs to get closer to him. Half the people were heading as far away as possible, the other half were trying to get as close as they could. No matter which way they were going it seemed to be right in front of me. I knew I didn't have a hope in hell of getting my stuff from the checkroom before someone got seriously hurt, but I still had to get over there and do what I could. I could still hear him as I struggled through the crowd.

He was pointing at the fallen security guard. "See, he failed his saving throw! He should have known that I wouldn't relinquish the initiative. After all, I have a +5 staff, enchanted with a blue dragon's breath. Did you fools really think that you could defeat me?"

I tried harder to get near him; not that I knew what I was going to do when I got there. Just about then some lanky kid with an overstuffed backpack swung around and got me right in the face. The zipper caught the edge of my lip and cut it and about the same time I stepped on a plastic comic bag that was on the floor and slid a few feet, landing on my ass. Now I was annoyed because I was going to end up with a fat lip and a bruised tailbone but I was even more annoyed that he had his backpack, while my bag was securely locked away.

Throngs of convention goers were surging all around me, some towards the action but most of them, wisely, away from it. I was still on my butt as they ran past. It was a different point of view and I suddenly saw a better way to approach the problem. If I went under the tables, instead of around them, I could get over to the next aisle and try too give the security boys a hand. I started to crawl forwards.

A woman, who must have weighed as much as Big Bertha, managed to stomp on my fingers, and I ended up with a great lint and gum collection on my jeans but I eventually managed to climb to my feet near the table where the costumed clown was still holding security off with that souped up staff of his. Now that I was there I wasn't real sure how I was going to be more effective than the hired help but I had to do something, bow or no bow. I started to look around to see if there was anything that would give me an edge.

Luck was with me. I had ended up crawling out from under a dealers table and they had a big display of Marvel products. There were overpriced comics, and trading cards (when did trading cards stop coming with bubble gum?), and action figures and assorted toys and other collectibles. I admit that I was tempted by the Para-glide Cap figure but that wasn't going to help me much. Fortunately what was right beside the figures was just what I needed. I grabbed it and whipped it at the guy. Hitting his wrist hard enough to knock the staff out of his hand. Of course, once he was disarmed, the security force swarmed all over him like ants at a picnic.

What did I throw? Oh, it was just a Frisbee, made up to look like Capper's shield. The old war-horse woulda been proud of me.

Naturally, no one even noticed that I had helped out, so all I really ended up with was a bruise on my tail, some crushed fingers and a wallet that was a whole lot lighter. But, that's not quite the way I related the tale to Gayle.

"But who was he, Clint? I know that you basically saved the convention from a disaster but did anyone ever find out anything about the attacker?"

"Well, Gayle, it turns out he was just a frustrated role playing gamer who had been refused the right to set up a display table about his own game. Seems that the previous year he had been trying to sell what he claimed was an original set of game rules. He and the convention got in a lot of legal trouble over copyright infringement since the only usable things in his product were direct steals from some other game that had been on the market for years, and the rest of it was essentially deluded gibberish."

"Mm hmm," She nodded and gave me that skeptical reporter look. "Well, if I'm going to publish this I'll have to do a bit of checking... you know, just to get the dates right and little fine points like that."

I wasn't overly sure that I wanted her checking into the facts, not the way I had told her the tale. I hadn't lied about what happened, exactly. I had just, uhhh... tidied up a few details. Still...

"Well, Gayle, I wasn't in costume at the time. If anyone remembers me your story would destroy any slim hope I have of hiding my true identity from the public. Maybe I had better pick a different adventure if you really want to use the story. Have I ever told you about the time Cap and I took on the circus of Crime all by ourselves?"

She whipped out her notepad and leaned forward in her seat, staring at me intently. Whew, saved again.

"You see, it was late one night and everyone else was already sleeping..."