I've been detailing the entirety of the storyline for over a year at this point. (Fuck, that doesn't make me feel good. But progress is progress, huh?) This is a portion from the first issue, when two of the main characters, Brendan Carllyl and James Brennan, are making their way into the center of town. VO Box stands for "voice over box" and is being told through the mind of Brendan Carllyl.
* * *
PAGE
3
PANEL:
The
car is only a little ways into the city of Ellisville, one side
heavily developed and the other gets more like the wilderness the
deeper into the land you get. They are at the edge of town so the
shops are few and far between.
VO
BOX
I
don't know when the place was built, I've never cared to know, but
pieces of its history stuck to people's tongues like it was legend.
VO
BOX
It
used to be a good spot for bootleggers back in the day, y'know?
PANEL:
The
car is center of the panel, driving past the record store, the barber
shop, and a fishing supply store.
VO
BOX
Way
out here in the middle of nowhere? With small-time cops not making
shit for cash the legal way? Everyone was on the take.
PANEL:
The
boys continue down the road, the view this time overhead.
VO
BOX
It's
how our city grew. Everyone here has a grandad that used to be in
the running game.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN flicks his almost-spent cigarette out the window at a group
of three Black men in their twenties. They all turn away
defensively.
VO
BOX
Well,
almost everyone.
PAGE
4
PANEL:
A
light signal burns green on an overcast sky.
VO
BOX
Once
the Prohibition was done breathing all its smoke into people's
private lives, the town died once again.
PANEL:
The
same signal turns red.
VO
BOX
The
smoke had cleared. We saw we would have to try our best to be a
legitimate town with something to contribute towards again.
PANEL:
The
four-way stop begins to pump cars from their starting lines a little
into the intersection.
VO
BOX
We
were the same logging town we used to be, but this time with the
bitterness of knowing we used to have it good.
PANEL:
A
driver in another car slams the breaks, looking to his right, his
face tense.
VO
BOX
Our
parents had to deal with the hurt of earning nothing like our
grandparents did.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN's car races past the man who stopped short of the wreck,
dashing past all those waiting respectfully in line for their turn at
the signal.
VO
BOX
And
of course, that aggression just rubbed-off on us.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN flips the bird out his window, not even a smile to grace the
notion, as he rushes towards the viewer.
VO
BOX
We
were second-generation losers. And ain't no one in town would tell
us different.
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