Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #9 – “Hunter”! In the previous installment, Death and his cronies spend two days descending some beneath-the-lake stairs and he finds what he’s looking for: a chained-up naked lady with a throbbing external brain and tentacle eyeballs! We can’t all be so lucky. Her name is Oracle, and after a fair trade, she’s going to help Death find his son.

Meanwhile, Madame President Antonia LeVay made a promise to her Horsemen buddies that she’d keep the peace among her people. So she imposes martial law and then personally goes down to the street and kills a few rioters in order to make an example of them.

Just another day in 2064! Year 45 of the Covid Pandemic! I wonder if that’s mentioned at all in this series.

East of West, Issue #9 [January, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Hunter”

Crown Prince John Freeman of the Kingdom of New Orleans (I call him Lenny Kravitz!) rolls off some broad in his big regal bed in his castle, or whatever. We haven’t seen him since Issue #6 when Ezra Orion set up that “there’s a traitor among our ranks” congregation and Chamberlain threw Solomon under the bus.

Freeman is nude in front of his massive 2000″ TV (he got it from Frank), where Madame President Shooter McGavin’s big, pinched face is all over the screen. She asks Freeman if he can be counted on. “Fool of a woman,” he mutters to himself as he starts getting dressed, “Trying to make her weakness mine…”

His lady’s in the bed. “How many times are you gonna watch that?” she whines at him. He whines right back: “If I linger over making a decision, it isn’t because I’m indecisive. Sometimes there are greater concerns…like exposure and keeping my head attached to my neck.”

“Well then, tell me Prince…can you be counted on?” his nude sex lady asks. And John Freeman is like “Who cares? Who gives a shit? I’ll end up talking to dad about something he couldn’t give two shits about. Plus, that guy barely has any clout anyway. This is stupid.” I mean, he’s a little bit more articulate than that but I like my words better.

And Freeman’s nude sex lady tells him that he can’t be counted on anyway! He’s untrustworthy, he’s a rogue, he’s erratic, and, at his very best, he’s a scoundrel! She walks up behind him and hugs him as they both look over the balcony at the astonishing city that New Orleans has become in the futury future over here.

“I can be counted on…for the things that matter.”

“What fairness is this? Blindness in a world full of people refusing to use their eyes?”

Oh look, I’m getting another premonition…yes, you will give me $400,000 in cash…what’s that, another premonition?…and some Olive Garden gift cards.

Death and Oracle, millions of miles below a lake or somethin’, need to work out a deal. Death needs to find his son, you dig? And Oracle’s gonna help. “And in return I’ll give you whatever it is you want. It’s my whole proffer…you won’t do better than that,” Death propositions like a real smooth operator. “And if I want more?” Oracle asks, grinning a sickly grin under her godawful little tentacle eyeballs. “Not gonna haggle,” Death answers simply. “Got somethin’ on your mind, let’s hear it.”

And Oracle chokes out some sinister laughter. She sees everything dingus, and she already sees what Death is willing to offer, and it fucking sucks ass! He’s gonna start groveling and begging and crying and weeping at her, it’s a real sorry sight to behold. Oracle goes on to say that there’s a version of Death who, out of pride, gives up and takes his business elsewhere. He will return months later with less than what he has now. That’s the dumb Death. The other version of Death will pay Oracle’s price now, and he will continue his journey with way more hope to succeed. In both cases, Oracle’s price will be the exact same, so Death is better off just paying it now. Don’t be a bitch. This is a warning!

And Death is like “Just tell me what you want, you old hag.”

Freedom is overrated. I want a motherfucking dinosaur.

And Oracle is like “NO! Not yet. I want to string you along just a little bit longer! FIRST, I want you to ask for forgiveness! Ha! THEN, I want you to try to guess what I want! Ha ha! Go on, now. HERE’S A HINT: penis in the vagina! Or do I? Heh heh, here it is right here, sir. Come say hello!”

Yeah, anyway, Death has a lot more patience with all this than someone in his situation should, I would think. He plays along, takes off his hat, etc. “What we did was wrong. We thought it was the right thing to do…but that was a simpler time. I regret it…and if I could take it back I would.”

“That sincere enough for you?” Death snarls, “Now what’s it gonna be?”

They lean in closer and closer to each other’s faces. They’re practically smoochin’ at this point, no kidding. The panel after the one shown above shows their mouths about an inch away from each other. “So what then?” Death asks once more. “I want what I lost.” Oracle responds, finally. “I see…but I want to see again.” These responses come over a flashback of an angry young woman surrounded by the earlier incarnations of the four Horsemen. War is shown to jump on top of the woman and rip her eyeballs from their sockets.

Death is taken aback, now horrified as one socket’s-worth of Oracle’s eye tentacles start poking and prodding around one of his own eyeballs. With a “SPLURT”, she extracts Death’s eye right out of his head. It pops itself into place within her own wretched skull.

The flirting is starting to get a little out of hand.

“Yesss… That’s better. Now… about your son…”

JEEZUS H. CHRIST, sir. Yeah, let’s move on from that for now goddamnit. Crown Prince John Q. Honeybottom, Zoë Kravitz’s dad, hangs out in the entertainment district of New Orleans. He listens to a jazz guy doing his jazz thing, bleating and blorting on a trumpet, while another guy who claims to be another John Freeman tries to talk to him: “Nine. I’m John Freeman the Ninth… and very soon, I plan on being the Eighth.” Listen, this twerpy little masturbator doesn’t even look like he can wipe his own stupid butt yet, even I’m annoyed already.

The John Freeman we East of West fans all know and love, Mr. Eight, tells this kid to go screw! But this kid will NOT go screw! Mr. Nine over here has been training with warmasters and vampire slayers and Mr. Miyagis across this whole Kingdom! You don’t wanna fuck with him, bro. Mr. Eight groans and says “Fine. Outside.”

The “best warmasters”? Like who? Steve? Steve is terrible!

Outside! Mr. Eight has his back to the kid and starts schooling him on what it means to be Mr. Nine, the ninth prince in a prosperous kingdom. It means you are wealthy beyond belief and you are not important enough to be ever bothered by anybody. You can literally do anything with your life. “In truth… I envy you. Which is why I find this all so disappointing. You’re too young and too rich to be covetous, brother. So let this be a lesson… LEARN. YOUR. PLACE!”

And with each word, Kravitz takes out each one of Mr. Nine’s bodyguards with blasts from his Chosen guns! He blasts clean through Nine’s leg, amputating it right at the…something. He ain’t got much of a leg left, that’s for sure.

“Remember what I taught you here today… Or when I become king, there will be one less prince in the court.”

Nine cradles his gross stump.

Large white transition page with gray text ahoy.

“There is the throne. Then there is everything else.“

So now we learn that Kravitz himself is a covetous douchebag, missing the irony completely I imagine. I’m looking forward to seeing how this completely backfires on him by Issue #25, where he’ll be discovered dead in a pool of his own urine. And by that I mean someone forces him to piss into a wading pool until it’s full enough to be forced to drown in it. Death starts getting creative.

So now, Prince Freeman the VIII requests an audience with the king at the Royal Palace. Per one of the royal lickspittles, the king was expecting him. Freeman’s like “no shit, dork” and he makes his way into the royal-ass chambers.

“Perfect Father, Lion to the People… Your Majesty… I present your son… The Crown Prince, John Freeman.” *blorting trumpets* And lo, HE IS ANNOUNCED. Johnny Boy bends his knee to the king. “Hello Father, it is good to see you.”

And before I even turn the page on this book, you better believe we’re going to get a heaping helping of Daddy Issues. East of West should be renamed.

John Freeman Numero Uno looks like a fat, angry pharaoh. “You’re late,” he grunts. King Slouchy asks his sexy vizier how many other sons he has, not counting this whelp before him. “An impressive fourteen, Your Majesty,” she replies. Pops tells Freeman 8 that he better get cracking, that’s a lot of siblings to slaughter to earn the throne. “I would think that would add some urgency to your steps.”

“We ask you humbly: don’t scroll away. We depend on donations, but fewer than 2% give.”

King Grump is wise to his son’s motivations and asks him to play LeVay’s message to him. The vizier reminds Freeman 8 that “all communications belong to the State – the State is the King – the King must know all things”. ROLL THE TAPE! And Freeman 8 is like “oh shit, ugh, shit shit shit”.

We get to see LeVay’s full message to John Freeman VIII from the beginning of the issue. Her big, emaciated face fills up the royal chamber. “Crown Prince Freeman… I am contacting you on a most urgent matter.” she begins, and then it’s all BLAH BLAH BLAH from there!

Long story short, she informs him about the upheaval and unrest going on in the Union. It’s all very sad. Economic collapse is imminent, and that sucks. Now’s the time for some damn assistance in the name of the Message! After all, the Chosen all need to work together, ya know? So tell your fat dad to cough up some money to help her country. Peace.

Dad’s hardly impressed. “What is this? More of your religion?” he asks poutily. “I cannot help what I believe, Father. I believe what I was taught…” Sonny Boy counters, “You always made sure I had the very best of teachers.”

King Dad has nothing to say about this immediately. At least not in front of the vizier. “Leave us.” he instructs, and she gives Freeman 8 a flirty glance before she steps out. She wants that dick, son.

We’re behind the curtain now, friends. “I have never minded your dalliances with… your faith. We all need our secret passions, the necessary distractions from this cruel and unkind world…” Father Dearest begins. Some day, though, you’ll be king. Even though you have seven brothers ahead of you to kill and seven brothers behind you that will try to murder you in a wading pool full of your own piss, you’ll be king some day. So grow the fuck up. Also, I’m worried that you’re not taking this seriously!

“Do you doubt my loyalty, Father?”
“Do you not give me a reason, my son?”

Freeman 8 argues that his decision to help the Union in the name of the Message is not wrong. After all, he always thought that alliances must be maintained, no? “Not always.” says Mr. King. He tells his son about the Civil War, the fake alternate history Civil War. I don’t remember much about it! You can read about what I had to say about it in the first issue. The freedmen whipped some ass and were able to keep a generous portion of land that they earned with blood. Decades later, after securing control of most of the Gulf of Mexico (or whatever it’s called in 2064) and reaping its sweet, sweet, oily benefits, the Kingdom of New Orleans is now hella powerful. And the Union sucks and has no money.

So here’s the deal: a lot of shit is going down. The Republic of Texas has closed its borders. The Endless Nation is starting to stir the pot. House of Mao is going to start fucking with everyone soon. In fact, they already have. Under Xiaolian’s rule, she’s already called in her debts from the Union. No ifs, ands, or buts! That’s why they’re currently falling apart! “War is…inevitable. Soon everyone will be forced to choose sides – and to choose between the many things that pull at them. Including you and I,” warns the Cuddly Pharaoh.

So, snotnose, don’t give in. The Kingdom of New Orleans needs to keep their position, their power, and their wealth. Now’s not the time to finance some shithole like the Union just because some stupid lady in charge of some shithole like the Union is using religious bullshit to schmooze money out of us!

So don’t let her.

Here, son, try buying them with a few of these Olive Garden gift cards I got from the Oracle!

Final Thoughts

Quite an unexpected twist to see the Freeman Father and Son relationship not completely strained to predictable limits.

It’s also fun to see more of the political drama surrounding the Seven Nations of America. The story is getting denser and denser, my friends. Like a nice fruitcake.