Madam President, Queen of Snark (kellinator) wrote,
Madam President, Queen of Snark
kellinator

  • Mood:

Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

I just made the mistake of checking at the DC website to see what's coming up next in Gotham Central and saw the synopsis for #39. Jim Corrigan, the corrupt CSI tech, kills a hero in the line of duty... and judging by the fact that the cover features a shattered Renee Montoya being restrained by Driver and Josie Mac, you know what that means. RIP Crispus Allen. I tried to deny the evidence, but I'm just not that willfully ignorant.

My favorite partner pairing in Gotham Central, possibly my favorite cop pairing ever, is ending. This will only make sense to the Homicide fans, but Allen and Montoya are what Pembleton and Bayliss would have been if Frank hadn't been a dick and Tim hadn't been a wuss.

*inconsolable weeping*

I'm now working through the Kubler-Ross stages of grief...

Denial: "It CAN'T be Allen. Pleasepleaseplease don't let it be Allen. It just CAN'T be Allen."
Anger: "Didn't you hear me, Greg Rucka? It CAN'T be Allen!! How dare you!! YOU TOLD ME YOURSELF THAT HE'S PEMBLETON!!"
Bargaining: "You can't do this! If you do Gotham Central will be all about Driver and his shift and nobody gives a shit about them anyway! Kill one of them, nobody cares about them in the first place!"
Depression: "Dammit, if you do this I'll stop reading Gotham Central because like I said, nobody gives a a shit about the other shift. How can you do this to Cris? He's got a wife and kids! How can you do this to Renee? Is there any possible suck-ass event that hasn't happened to Renee during the run of this comic?!"
Acceptance: "This still sucks ass and you're going to regret it, but if it means that Cris Allen is going to be the new Spectre, well, I suppose we can suffer you to live. Don't be surprised when Gotham Central goes down the toilet though."

So anyway, here I am at my desk, not getting any work done because I'm Googling for any information I can find and literally blinking back the tears over a person who doesn't even exist. And that, my friends, is art. If you can make me cry over someone who doesn't even exist, you have done a rare and wonderful thing.

But I'm STILL pissed.
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