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Hey,

We’re starting to do some videos promoting Addictive Comics. The first few — tests you might say, but hopefully “successful tests” — are of the Slide Show Variety.

If Wordpress is not screwing with us, the first of the new videos should be below. If you see and “x” then that means that “yes, Wordpress is screwing with us” and you can watch the video at on YouTube by Clicking HERE

Feel free to snag the vid and put it on your site.

The Fan Favorite Podcast from Decoder Ring Theatre is now a Webcomic! Read Black Jack Justice’s adventures weekly from Addictive Comics.

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Let’s hear those comments on Page 5! 

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For fun, here is Gregg’s original script for this page.  If you like you can compare this to the comic page to see exactly what we cut out. 

Let us know if you think we did a good job.

TRIX: Jack’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set hard behind his smirk. Donna Ryan. Wife of industrialist Clarence Ryan. The Ryans drew a lot of water in this town. This might be more trouble than it was worth. Jack glanced at me. I shrugged a little. We did need the case, but did we need the headaches? I was doing mental arithmetic; adding up the pros and cons on an invisible ledger. Jack’s eyes drifted back to Mrs. Ryan. I wondered what he was adding up.

JACK: The Ryan dame looked down at her shoes. Her whole body was shaking, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the draft through the office window. She’d touched up her face before she came in, but this close I could see that a lot of tears had wandered past those eyes in the last few hours. She was terrified. Terrified of everything. Everything she had and everything she’d lost. We knew who she was and she was almost sure we’d use it to our advantage. That tore it. I’m different things to different people, but I’m a blackmailer to nobody.

JACK: All right, Mrs. Ryan. Take a breath and relax a little. I won’t promise that everything’s gonna be fine, but we’ll do our best to make it so. Your letters have come home to roost, have they?

DONN: In a manner of speaking. It was just last night when a messenger arrived at my home. He delivered an envelope which contained a single letter, in my own girlish hand, written shortly before the war. It also contained this:

JACK: Trixie?

TRIX: Single page, handwritten. On the letterhead of the messenger company – probably written at their office. The text is short and to the point: “Reply tomorrow – 8pm Metrolite Hotel room 314”.

JACK: That’s it?

TRIX: That’s all.

JACK: That’s odd.

DONN: Why odd? You said you’d handled this sort of thing before.

TRIX: Yes Mrs. Ryan, but usually the… I’m sorry, but the blackmailer-

DONN: -Oh!

TRIX: -will include a little more information about their terms. An amount would be a common thing to include, or at least a more direct suggestion of consequences.

DONN: I can well imagine the consequences.

JACK: These kind of people don’t usually have that much imagination. Could mean anything. Could mean our mutual friend is new at this. That might work to our advantage.

DONN: I see.

TRIX: It’s your party, Mrs. Ryan. How do you want us to handle this?

DONN: I- I’d like you to… take care of it.

JACK: Forgive me ma’am. It’s not that we’re dense, it’s just that could mean anything. Including a whole range of services we don’t supply.

TRIX: I know this is difficult for you, but we’ve got to be specific if we’re to cut to the happy ending. 

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