[Archive] With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

2nd March
10:08 GMT

"This is what you do on Themyscira?" Zatanna looks through my Grey Council Diplomacy deck. "Do they even.. have card games?"

"I think Diana's the one who originally introduced them to the idea." I shrug. "The four I taught to play it found it strange, but I think they pretty much expect strange from me."

"I can't imagine why." She shifts her attention to the play mat. "And you have to keep track of tension for every race?"

"Yes."

"Even if none of you are doing anything that involved tension? How often does it come up that the Centauri's tension towards the Humans is different to the Humans' tension towards the Centauri?"

"It doesn't." I look at the play mat sadly. "I think it's to stop it being too easy to go to war, but.. yeah, it was a strange design decision. They stopped supporting the game for a reason."

"So… Why don't you just fix it?"

"Huh?"

"Fix it. You know, like you wanted to with Warhammer. In fact it should be easier because no one here's even heard of Babylon Five, so you wouldn't have to work against their preconceptions."

I could do that… Maybe have Unrest reduce Power, so it doesn't only matter when someone's playing Drahk? Complexity should arise naturally during play, not be imposed or completely situational… "I… Suppose I cou-. "

The crystal surrounding Chantinelle shatters, exploding across the room in fragments. The diagram on the floor flares for a second and then gutters out as the Succubus… Former Succubus, collapses to the floor. Zatanna and I immediately get to our feet, Zatanna grabbing her staff.

"Uh?" The noise wakes up John, who blearily blinks at the world from his armchair before a moment for getting up, wiping sleepy from his eyes as he does. "Oh, she's out." He starts patting himself down to find his cigarette packet. It's in the pocket of his jacket on the back of his chair, but I think I'll use how long it takes him to work that out as a guide to how awake he is.

Chantinelle hasn't moved. In fact, I think she's curling up on herself. "Uah-uah-uah." She's shaking. Empathic vision's still blocked…

"Zatanna, is the spell circuit dead?"

She nods. "Should be. All the power went into her when it finished."

I glance at the crystal shards, which are evaporating. Into nothing, apparently. There's no chemical residue and no violet light flowing anywhere. Interesting.

John takes a moment to straighten his shirt, then takes a step towards the shivering Succubus. "Elle? You alright, love?"

"No I'm not." I hear a sob. "John? I'm a horrible person."

John frowns slightly, then looks over at the two of us. Zatanna looks puzzled. I shake my head and shrug. "You're a Demon, pet. It pretty much comes with the territory." He takes a few steps closer, then squats down near to her. "Can you look at me a minute?"

"I don't deserve-." John reaches out and puts his right hand on her left shoulder. Her head jerks up and her wings pull back. She doesn't really look any different to me, though out of the three of us I've got the worst awareness of magic energy flows. "I can feel it, John. Love. Everywhere. And I… All the times I seduced people and broke up their relationships and laughed about it… I can feel it all. I can see all their faces. It's all wrong! And what I did to you and that Dani woman because I got angry about you resurrecting the First. I shouldn't have done it."

"That was years ago, Elle. I've never needed your help sabotaging me relationships before." He purses his lips for a moment. "If you really wanna do something about it, we can probably find her address easily enough."

"I already know where she is. I know where they all are! And it's horrible! Little violet strings I've spent my whole life tearing up and they're all… Like I used to be with him, and now they're…" She's actually tearing up. "What am I supposed to do, John?"

"How about you try what normal people do? Fix it if you can, try and do something that makes up for it if you can't."

"When does it stop-" She sits back on her haunches, arms hugging herself. "-feeling like this?"

John exhales sharply with amusement. "I'll let you know when I find out, love. But fixin' stuff for people usually helps a bit. Can you do any a' that construct stuff Lanterns can do?" Chantinelle shakily holds out her right hand, a claw construct forming around it. "There you are, then. You can get to 'em wherever they are. You can see what's wrong, and you can try an' fix it."

He offers her his right hand to help her up. Still not all that steady, she takes it and rises to her feet, her clothes shifting into a somewhat more conservative form. She turns to Zatanna and I for a moment, looking at us a little curiously. Then she flashes brilliant violet for a moment before disappearing.

John looks at where she was standing for a moment. "That's done, then." He pats himself down again. "You mind giving us a hand cleaning-?" I hold my hands out and orange strobes clean off the walls and floor. "Magic, mate. So, what's next?"

"Recruitment." I glance at Zatanna. "For fighting Nabu… I think we need -no offence meant or anything- a combat mage. Someone who knows enough to help shutting Nabu down. I've thought about it and I think draining him represents the safest way of stopping him without risking Mister Zatara."

"Normally, yeah, but he's topping himself back up from the Plane of Order. Draining him fast enough-."

"You've had a look at my blue alter ego's storage battery design. Whoever's doing it just has to protect themselves and channel the power into it."

Zatanna thinks for a moment. "Could Rob do it? I know you didn't want to involve the rest of the team, but he is a thaumovore. And the rest of us would have Nabu's attention."

John shakes his head. "Cornwall Boy tried it with Klarion on Roanoke and he couldn't make it work." He looks down at the floor for a moment. "I know a guy who might maybe be able to help. I'd have t'.. track him down, though. We weren't exactly close."

"There's a surprise."

John actually looks hurt for a second, before realising that she's just joking. "How about Trevor Marrack? Think he'd be up for it?"

"I don't know. I don't… I think it would look too much like a grey area to him, especially if we can't come up with something that won't risk killing Nabu. I should be able to talk Rob into coming down to Sephtian's lab, see if we can get a better idea how his ability works. If we could turn it into something we could bind to an artefact… How's he getting on with the Atlantean books Kaldur got him?"

"Honestly?" Zatanna shakes her head. "Not all that great. Even with the translation it's like learning a whole new language. I have trouble with it, and Dad… Dad taught me a lot more about magical theory than Rob knows."

"Okay, I'll talk to him about it. Zatanna, how was the staff?"

"It's so much better than doing it all myself. And you were totally right about external power sources; with this I feel like I can just keep casting spells forever. Maybe after we've dealt with Nabu I could make it part of my normal equipment?"

"I suppose… As long as the Zamarons don't want it back." I hold out my right hand. "And we don't detect any adverse mental effects."

"But-."

"Put it down. It's time for your scan."

 

2nd March
08:22 GMT -5

"Recognised, Orange Lantern, B zero six."

I stroll out into the training room. Fun part of the day well and truly over. You never realise how much work it takes to move a flying Doom Fortress across a planet until you try it. I only really asked out of politeness, but neither the Russians nor the Americans want me taking it through the Bering Straits. I mean, once I get through there there's nothing between me and the South Pole but ocean. I thought it would be easy, but no. The Russians don't want me any nearer their proving ground than I am now and that crazy woman in charge of Alaska doesn't want a foreign warship in American airspace. I thought that after the Spetsnaz paid me a visit I'd convinced the Russians that it really wasn't a spy craft, but it looks like they're not making exceptions no matter how sensible they would be. My choices appear to be risking a transition -something I could probably do but I'm not entirely happy about- or flying it over the pole and down the Atlantic side.

Maybe Sephtian could build a portal big enough to fly through..?

"Wotcha, Orange Lantern."

I look down the side corridor as Beryl Hutchinson and Rob march out. "Squire, Cornwall Boy. What brings the two of you here on a school morning?"

"Minions, mate."

"Alright, but I charge by the hour and I expect union rates."

Rob stares at me in incomprehension. "Whot?"

Beryl snorts with laughter. "He means the village in Cornwall. It's called Minions. Something weird's happening there and Cyril wanted to talk to the Justice League about it. Next thing you know we're all walking through a zeta tube into…" She looks around. "Is this really Mount Justice?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to confirm or deny that."

She looks at me with what I think is a mild frown. Her pointless tiny mask makes it a little hard to tell. "You've got good control of your body language. Is that training or are you using your power ring?"

"A little of both. So how exactly did Sir Cyril wanting a chat result in you coming here?"

Rob smiles ruefully. "Magic, mate. Me and Dad tried having a look around but we couldn't get a handle on it. We thought-."

"That asking his magic using friends for assistance was the wisest course of action." Kaldur enters the training room down the main corridor, followed closely Garth and Tula. "I am glad that you are back. Knight will be providing a full briefing shortly."

I nod as Beryl calls up the holoscreen on her arm-mounted personal computer. "Speaking of which, I better get the presentation loaded. Cyril's not great with computers."

"Heard that, you cheeky minx." Sir Cyril, Batman, Trevor Marrack and King Orin follow on behind my team mates. "I'll have you know my Twunter feed's got nearly eight million follows now." I spot Beryl rolling her eyes as she raises the holoscreen to cover her response. "Good morning Paul."

"Good morning, Sir Cyril, sir,-" Batman. "-your majesty,-" King Orin. "-Mister Marrack. What seems to be the problem?"

"Probably not a lot, to be honest. Beryl?" The main holoscreen comes to life, showing a view of what I assume to be the village itself. The picture is upside down and has what looks suspiciously like Sir Cyril's fingers across the top. Sir Cyril hesitates for a moment as Beryl smirks and presses a button to turn it the right way up. "Right. This is Minions, in Cornwall. About a week ago Squire spotted that they'd been having a surprising number of car accidents lately. Low speed, so no one got seriously hurt or anything. When we had a look at what was causing them, it turns out that the people involved were all knackered. Could barely keep their eyes open. We asked around a bit and it turns out that everyone's been having recurring nightmares on and off for near enough the last month. From the statements we took, it sounds like in a lot of cases they were having the same ones."

The image changes to show a police forensics team in protective gear. "When we heard about that, we called in police forensics and the chemical warfare people. They checked the whole place out." The image changes to an overhead view of the village. "Nothing in the soil, nothing in the air, nothing in the food, nothing in the buildings. Nothing on ultrasonics or infrasonics. Didn't have a good way to detect telepaths, but everyone gave us a blood sample and no one tested positive for metahuman traits. Did a thorough check of the whole area and didn't find anything out of the ordinary. And once we'd been there a few days, we started having the nightmares too."

I see a yellow shape in him. There's a very clear fear association with that memory. Surprising it's lasted this long. Some sort of.. cancer monster, eating people?

"Since we couldn't think of anything else it could be, I phoned Trevor and asked him to take a look."

Mister Marrack nods. "There's definitely a presence there. It only flares up when it's actually causing the nightmares, though. Didn't feel a thing 'til I tried touching the poor bastard going through one of them. Horrible, it was." He pauses for a moment. "I could just about keep it out while I was there, but I couldn't do it for the whole village. Especially not when I couldn't sleep myself."

Sir Cyril nods. "And that's when I got in touch with Batman. After what happened in Stone Cross, the British Government's got a bit jumpy about magic."

Kaldur's eyes move from the map to Sir Cyril. "Has the village been evacuated?"

"We're keeping an eye on it, but there doesn't seem to be any physical threat. After a month on and off, everyone who's going to leave has already left. There's a couple of MI6 agents still there but all the other police and army people got recalled. No sense in them staying on when they can't do anything."

Batman steps forwards. "You'll be going in as tourists. Attempt to identify the nature and source of the fear projection and report back to me. Aqualad, if you judge it to be within your team's ability to confront whoever or whatever is causing these nightmares then you have my authorisation to do so. Otherwise, Doctor Fate-" ! "-can be with you on short notice."

Kaldur nods. "Knight. How long did it take for you to begin experiencing the nightmares?"

"Difficult to say. I'd been in the village for five days, but I wasn't the first to go down with them. That was.. a bloke on the chemical weapons detail, and he'd only been there for two. And it's hard to tell the difference between normal nightmares and ones being caused by whatever this is."

"Are there any links between the nightmares and.. times of the year, or phases of the moon..?"

Sir Cyril turns to Beryl. She takes a moment to realise and then looks at me and shakes her head. "Nothing like that. They tend to happen at night, but that's just because that's when people usually sleep. Whatever the cause is, it isn't working in concert with anything I could find information on."

Kaldur turns to Batman. "How long will we have to complete this mission?"

"We have no reason to believe that there's any deadline for locating the cause. You should pack for a week. If you haven't found anything by then…"

King Orin smiles at Kaldur. "Then I'll send a fully qualified battlemage to assist in your investigation."

"My King, would it not be wise to assign one from the start?"

"Not every mission I have for you can be completed by hitting your enemy until they stop moving, Kaldur'ahm." Kaldur's head sags slightly. "And sending a member of the Atlantean military who wasn't associated with the Justice League to a foreign country would be somewhat politically awkward, as well as alerting whoever is doing this to our interest." His gaze moves over the three Atlanteans. "But I don't believe it will prove necessary. I have every confidence that the three of you have what it takes to get to the bottom of this."

The three of them simultaneously raise their right fists to their foreheads in a salute. I spot Rob start to make a fist himself before realising that he's not meant to join in. I sometimes forget that the three of them are military cadets. I wonder what the rest of the Atlantean military makes of this whole thing?

Batman glances at Squire, and the hologram shifts to show Minions' location in the county. "The nearest zeta tube is in Brighton. I suggest travelling to Minions by road to preserve your cover, but deciding on the specifics of how to meet your objectives is up to your team leader. Dismissed."

 

2nd March
08:41 GMT -5

"Finished packing already?"

I look over to where Rob stands, holdall over his shoulder. "Power rings are awesome. I've also booked us room at somewhere called.. 'The Cheesewring'?"

"Yeah, that's where Beryl and Sir Cyril stayed. She said it was okay."

"How come you're getting out of school for this?"

"'Cause my school realises that saving people's lives is more important than a couple of geography lessons." I raise my eyebrows slightly. "They've given me a load of homework to try and get done, but they're usually okay about stuff like this. Long as it doesn't happen too often."

I look past him down the corridor to Tula's room, where Beryl is helping her pack things that will make her less noticeable than usual while we're in Cornwall. "And Beryl?"

He looks at me as if he's not sure whether or not I'm being serious. "Mate, her school just let her do whatever. I don't think she's ever not got an 'A' in anything. Stuff like this is the only reason she hasn't just taken her GCSEs early so she doesn't have to go anymore."

"Oh, I… Didn't know that. " Well, I knew that her exam results were good, they were part of my initial data capture. Didn't know that was what she managed all the time, though. Or that it was that easy for her.

"Yeah." He looks down the corridor towards our colleagues' rooms, then sighs and turns back to me. "Can I..? Like..? Talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course. What about?"

"I mean…" He waves his right hand at the air around us. "Like, privately."

An orange bubble surrounds us. "What's the problem?"

"Oh no, there's no… Problem… Exactly." He takes a deep breath. "Okay, look: are you going to join the Justice League?"

"Not… Right now..?"

"But… Eventually, right? You said you were doing a year's probation or whatever?"

"No one's said anything definite, but I wouldn’t be astonished to be offered a place during the next recruitment round. Why do you ask?"

"I wassss…" He looks away for a moment. "Is that what this team's for? It's just I sort of got the impression this was for trainee Justice League members only no one actually said it, and I want to make sure I haven't got completely the wrong end of the stick."

"The Justice League prefers to recruit people they already know, people they know they can work with. Anyone here is going to fulfil the usual requirements better than anyone on the outside. But, no, no one's told me anything definite either and the only person who's gone from one to the other so far is Red Arrow, and he was only here for a few days." I peer at him. Obviously he wants to be part of the League, he's hardly unique in that regard. "What brought this up all of a sudden?"

He shuffles his feet and takes another look down the corridor before returning his attention to me. "Dad… Dad doesn't actually like being Captain Cornwall. He only does it because he doesn't want to let people down, if he wasn't… But he knows how much this whole thing means to me. He said… He said if I actually got onto the Justice League, he'd quit and hand the whole thing over to me."

Oh. "I… Diana said they were setting the minimum age of recruitment for Humans at eighteen, so you’ve got three years and two months before you'd be eligible."

"I'm worried about ever being eligible. I mean… I've read up on the sorts of stuff my great granddad did. I used to feel pretty good about-" He holds his right hand in front of him and electricity crackles around his fingers for a moment. "-throwing a bit of lightning, then I read about how Graham Marrack channelled a whole hurricane into an eighty foot tall Demon and made it explode."

"He'd been doing this a bit longer than you have."

He takes a moment to arrange his thoughts. "His Dad taught him. Only, him and Granddad had this massive falling out and it never got passed on. I'm trying to get my head 'round the Atlantean spell books, but I'm… I keep worrying I'm not going to get it. You know? This is what I want to do with my life. I don't want to be 'okay'. I want to be great at this. I want to help people all over the world, like Superman does." He looks at me for a second. "Or, y'know, Wonder Woman."

"Good save." I nod. "Okay. Have you.. thought about asking Marvel if you can have the Sword back?"

"Nooo… I don't wanna depend on a magic sword for stuff I should be able to do on my own. And I don't wanna nick a magic sword off a ten year old when he's perfect for it."

"He's actually eleven now, but I take your meaning." When Guy heard that 'Captain Marvel' had a birthday coming up he offered to organise it. Luckily, I managed to tell him how old William is before too much damage was done. But this could be an opportunity. "But I can understand where you're coming from." One obvious solution if Marrack Very Senior took the knowledge to the grave with him. "How do you feel about necromancy?"

He shakes his head. "Oh, no, I just can't do necromancy. I mean, no Marrack's ever done it. It's not how our magic works."

"How do you feel -morally- about necromancy?"

"… What kind of necromancy?"

"We go to your great grandfather's grave and try and get in touch with his spirit. The simplest way for you to get training that makes sense in terms of your specific abilities-."

"Is to get it from him." He looks away, slowly exhaling. "I dunno. Granddad said he was pretty scary when he got in a mood."

"There are other places we could try, druidic communes, things like that. But to be honest, assuming you want to join the Justice League as soon as possible, we'll struggle to get you the level of knowledge you want from anywhere else."

He doesn't look happy about it. "What would it..? What would we actually do?"

"If there isn't some sort of secret Cornish ritual for speaking to deceased relatives..? "

"Mate, don't even."

"Last time I saw one, the magician drew some symbols around the grave and spoke an incantation. There was probably more going on than just that.. but.. I don't really understand.. that part from a magic user's point of view."

"And.. they could.. y'know, talk..? Like, normally?"

"Yes, but they'd only been dead for a few months. It might be different if they've been dead for longer."

"And… If he goes mental… We could..?"

"Put him down again?"

His face creases. "Don't say it like that. Makes it sound like he's a sick dog or something."

"Return him to his well earned rest?" He nods. "No complete guarantees, but probably."

"I'll need to think about it. I should.. probably run it past Dad as well."

"Okay. Let me know when you reach a decision."

 

2nd March
14:12 GMT

"Are you sure you're okay driving all the way?"

The minibus slows as we approach a roundabout and Kaldur carefully checks that the way is clear before accelerating again. It didn't occur to me earlier, but between us Kaldur is the only one with a driving licence and he's only practised on American roads. I've been meaning to take lessons, but with one thing and another -and the fact that I have two power rings- it rather slipped down my agenda. When I was in my.. twenties..? I took a course of lessons, failed my test twice and never bothered with it again.

"I am reasonably confident in my ability to get us to our destination. Third exit?"

"Yes. But you don't-" He presses the indicator lever. "-need to indicate-" We turn off down the slip road and onto the A27. "-because it's straight over."

"I will remember that for next time. Hiring a driver would have taken additional time, and I am not certain that our disguises would stand up to prolonged scrutiny."

"Probably not, but I don't mind taking a turn."

He gives me a quick glance before returning his attention to the road. "I was under the impression that you did not have a licence."

"I don't. I'd just be sitting there while the ring did all the work."

"That would be a contravention of British law."

"No one checks unless you have a crash. Plus, I have diplomatic immunity."

"Making use of that would compromise our cover. You said that the first rest stop is in two hours?"

"Yeah, there's one just before the M twenty seven meets the M two seven one. Or a bit further on, there's one in the middle of the New Forest National Park."

I turn back to look at my team mates. Tula and Garth are staring out of the window towards the southern edge of the South Downs National Park. They've mostly been sightseeing in more urban areas since they moved to the cave so I suppose woodland is still a bit new to them. Rob's got a history textbook out and is trying to read it while we're on a straight bit of road. Beryl has her slightly more mundane computer out and is busy devouring the contents of the Justice League files she's been granted access to.

Gosh, it's a while since I've been driven anywhere in anything so mundane as a minibus. It's moments like this that bring home to me exactly how strange my life has become since arriving on this planet. On the other hand… This world still has minibuses. The number of technologies that should have made them obsolete by now…

"What were you doing this morning?"

"Hm?"

"You left the cave early. I wondered what it was that required your attention at that hour."

"Magic research." How much can I risk saying? Obviously I can't specifically mention the Star Sapphire. "We're trying to work out exactly how Demons function, how they're made up. I can't just summon up and shoot every single one with the Ace of Winchesters. It would take too long."

"Were you able to make any progress?"

"Some? We spent a couple of hours working on this one Demon John knows and managed to turn her into an Elemental."

Kaldur flashes me a shocked look while Garth openly boggles. "How..?"

"Tedious links."

Rob looks up from his book. "Chris Moyles?"

"Demons naturally draw power from the souls of the damned.. and other places.. constantly. And expend it constantly to sustain themselves while they're on Earth. If you can find another connection, you can sort of.. flush them out. Reconfigure them to use a different sort of energy. Finding that connection is usually prohibitively hard, but Chantinelle had experienced genuine love before, so we could work with that."

Tula frowns. "How does a Demon learn to love?"

"She tried seducing an Angel once and it went a bit wrong." I pause. "It's funny; there's a lot less information around on how Angelic Theurgy works than Demon magic. I'd say the next step was studying Angels to see how they work, but Zatanna isn't keen."

Kaldur indicates, then pulls into the middle lane to overtake a caravan. "Zatanna was with you? You left quite early. Does she not have school today?"

"We're trying to continue her magic education. I don't plan on making a regular thing of starting out at the crack of dawn, especially not on a school night."

Tula leans forwards. "Once she's finished High School she could study in Atlantis."

"No offence to Atlantean schools or anything, but it's a very different style. Plus, she.. can't breathe water or.. survive the pressure. I'm sure she's.. considered it." We did talk about it briefly, but she wasn't keen on the idea. She did express an interest in hiking to Nanda Parbat at some point. Apparently Shadowcrest's library contains some reasonably riddle-free directions. John confirmed that Timothy Hunter is already ensconced in the White School, but apparently they're really picky about who they take and he wasn't sure they'd want Zatanna.

"Oh, of course." She looks a little awkward. "I'm so used to living underwater that I sometimes forget how hostile the environment of Atlantis is for surface dwellers."

"Did you really stop a Martian porn star escaping down the toilet?" Beryl's looking at me with a barely suppressed grin.

"Not the most demanding mission, but yes."

"I do not believe that I am familiar with your abilities, Squire." Kaldur's eyes flick to the rear view mirror. "It would be helpful if you could summarise them."

"Well, I'm studying Judo and Aikido, I'm fluent in seven languages -none of them are Atlantean Greek, sorry- and I've got an eidetic memory. I can also.. sort of see patterns in large data sets. Not much good for stopping street crime but amazing for finding fraudsters." Something occurs to her. "Hey, does this mean I get Justice League authority to eavesdrop on everyone? Because the more data I have-."

"Not unless you actually join the Justice League. If you want to spy on someone you have to justify it in relation to a particular mission." She pouts slightly. "Or ask me if I have the data already, and accept that means that it probably can't be used in court." She raises her eyebrows. "Yeah, I have a.. bit of a data collection habit myself."

Kaldur's forced to brake a bit suddenly as someone ahead of us decides that the Highway Code is for other people. "Is there anything else you noticed about the village we are going to?"

She shrugs. "I think Cyril covered it all." She glances off to the side. "Except… They weren't really keeping diaries of it or anything. We don't know exactly when particular people were having nightmares, but… Talking to people, it sounded like they'd been going longer than a month. Very sporadically before that… Like, once a month maybe? Going back about a decade if you go from the earliest ones."

"If you have already been introduced to people, might it be wisest for you not to be seen with us?"

"No need to worry. Most people don't recognise me when I take my tabard off, but just in case I've got a fast setting hair dye and accents for all occasions." She changes her expression, going from smiling and enthusiastic to reserved and dispassionate. Is she..? She's doing a Kaldur! "I believe that I will be able to pass unremarked, especially if I mimic the body language of those around me." She's even got his accent!

Kaldur gives the rear view mirror a small smile. "I believe that will suffice."

 

2nd March
16:02 GMT

Rob interlocks his fingers and stretches his arms above his head as Kaldur slides shut the minibus' door. "Y'know… I reckon we could have got away with just teleporting to just down the road and walking to Minions."

Tula isn't stretching, but does wince slightly as her left leg cramps. "A magic presence suddenly appearing would risk drawing too much attention. We don't-."

Beryl shakes her head. "And that's a fail for both of you." They both look at her, visibly confused. She smirks back. "Teleporting? Magic? What are you, superheroes or something?"

Both sets of eyes dip to the sides. Ye-ah, this is going to take a bit of practice. Rob's never bothered with a secret identity and Tula hasn't really established a public one yet. Neither are used to drawing a line between two sets of knowledge.

Kaldur nods to himself. "A small amount of practice is in order." His eyes move over his fellow Atlanteans. "Garth, Beryl, accompany me while we purchase refreshments. Remember: our conversation must not seem out of the ordinary. Paul-" I freeze up slightly. Ugh, really? The name thing hasn't bothered me significantly for months now. "-please accompany Robert and Tula while they attempt the same."

I nod. "Of course. I'll just make a quick phone call and we'll follow you in."

Kaldur nods, then turns and leads the other two in the direction of the entrance to Rownhams Services Westbound. Gosh, I've spent so much time in near-identical buildings over the years. They actually have fairly positive associations for me, representing as they did a welcome respite from long periods of sitting in the car on long holiday journeys to visit my grandparents. Thinking.. about it… I don't remember any report of Kaldur's adventures on the surface world mentioning him spending any time in Britain before now. I do hope he doesn't do anything silly like try making friends with someone to whom he hasn't been properly introduced.

I take out my phone and make the unlock-squiggle with my right forefinger. Still not.. entirely sold on these things, but we need to keep in touch with each other and we can't use anything too advanced to do it. Luckily, the area around Minions has fairly good phone reception.

"How difficult could it be to purchase a beverage?"

"Well, there's… Like, a difference between being able to speak a language, and using it like people actually use it. Y'know?"

I press John's contact number and hold the phone up to my right ear. "To be honest, Tula, your English is probably a bit too good. If you were less fluent the momentary gaps in fluency would be-"

"Yeah?"

"Afternoon, John." I turn away from the other two and start walking slowly in the direction of the trees which surround the non-road side of the Services car park. "Might have a job for you."

"Blimey mate, another one?"

I lower my voice slightly. Can't really stick up a sound exclusion barrier when we're under cover. "Rob has expressed concerns about his ability to get appropriate training with his arcane abilities. Can I assume that you aren't a secret master of Cornish arcane elementalism?"

"You don't ask a lot, do you?" He exhales sharply. "No, I'm not."

"Know anyone who is?"

"What, you mean aside from Captain Cornwall?"

"Mm, he isn't. That's the problem." I glance back. Tula's followed me towards the wooded area, though she's more interested in the trees than my conversation. Atlantis doesn't have trees or any real tree-equivalents. They get oxygen from plankton, algae and seaweed. Some types are decorative, but even at its best it's nothing compared to what you can find in any well-maintained British garden. For lack of anything better to do Rob's following her.

"I think I met his uncle once. Don't know if he'd remember me. He any better?"

"Isn't he in prison?"

"Yeah, but he's allowed visitors. And I could probably con me way in even if he wasn't."

"I don't know much about him. Rob hasn't wanted to talk about him." Rob glances at me for a second, then looks away. Come on, it was going to come up eventually. "Do you think he'd know enough-?"

"Look… Don't want to spoil your mental image of me or anything, but I don't actually know everything there is to know about magic. Give me a couple of weeks without anything else on-"

"Hah."

"-yeah, and I can probably dig up some old Cornish gypsy or witch who can tell you a little bit… But that's not really what he wants, is it?"

"His dad doesn't take the superhero thing entirely seriously. It's something he's obliged to do, but he doesn't have the same sense of mission that…" I chuckle. "I was going to say 'that Batman has', but… I mean, like any of the Leaguers have. From what he said, his grandfather wasn't much more into it. My friend Alan gave his great grandfather a glowing review but he's dead."

"Oh, you want… Riiight. How long's he been dead for?"

"About forty years. Died of.. probably a stroke and a heart attack at the age of eighty three."

"Calling up the spirits of powerful wizards is a really dodgy one. I'd want Rob or his dad there at least. Someone from the blood line."

"We can do that."

"I'll need the usual stuff then: something important to him in life, the location of his grave and someone who can hold him off if things get nasty."

I nod. "You busy next weekend?"

"I was just going to keep on readin' this stuff you got off of Sephtian."

"Okay, pencil me in for Saturday night. I'll confirm nearer the time."

"Right. Here, y'know Chas actually took Geraldine t'that gate thing you set up in Battersea? He usually hates gettin' involved in magic."

Huh. That's interesting. "Did Renee go?"

"Yep."

"Get out."

"Straight up, mate. Even went through the frigging thing."

"Miracles of good PR. I mean, if I can convince her… Oh, right, while you're there; you don't know about anything that might cause a town in Cornwall to have nightmares for twelve years, do you?"

"Funnily enough, no."

I smile. "Alright. See you next weekend, if not before." I lift the phone away from my ear and press the 'off' button.

Tula looks around. "Was that John Constantine?"

"Yes, it was."

"Do you think.. you could arrange a training session with him? Neither Garth nor I are at all well versed in the magics still used by the surface world. Since we first met I have been worried that I still have gaps in my knowledge like the one he used to beat me."

I'm not sure how good an idea that is… On the other hand, who am I going to suggest they talk to, Nabu? It's a legitimate concern. "I can certainly ask him. You'd have to.. go to him, of course. I don't think the League really want him hanging around their students." She nods. "Now then;-" I put my phone back in my jacket and stride purposefully in the direction of the Services building. "-An Introduction to English Social Interactions. You may need this."

 

2nd March
16:09 GMT

"By and large, the English do not really care how the rest of the world sees them. They are convinced, with some justification, that no-one really understands-."

I lay my right hand lightly on Tula's upper arm to stop her. "Rob, what's she doing wrong?"

"Errum." He thinks for a second. "Reading out loud..? In public?"

"And not paying attention to her environment." I remove my hand. "Tula, we have another couple of hours of driving to go. You'll have plenty of time to read it."

She closes the books and frowns at the cover. "Why do you have a book like this?"

"I bought it while on holiday to a foreign country."

"You bought a.. book to teach people from another country.. who don’t like your country.. how to deal with people from your country.. while in another country."

"Page twenty nine. Just this once you can read it out loud."

She thumbs to the appropriate page. "Sense of Humour. The English have an island culture - quirky and self-contained. Much of their humour is highly sophisticated and elusively subtle. Like the will-o'-the-wisp, it often refuses to be caught and examined and just when you think you have cracked it, you realise that you have been duped again. For example: Two men are reading their newspapers when one says: 'It says here there's a fellow in Devon who plays his cello to the seals.' 'Oh really', says the other. 'Yes', says the first, 'Of course, they don't take a blind bit of notice.'"

I bite my lip while Rob looks away, his face reddening with the effort of not bursting out laughing. Tula closes the book and looks up, confusion evident on her face. "Why is that-?" She sees us both struggling to keep straight faces. "I do not understand the joke."

"Page twenty five."

She goes to turn to that page, realises something, eyes me suspiciously for a moment, then slides the book back into her bag.

I nod approvingly. "Well done. Now: onwards!" I stride towards the automatic doors, which slide apart to allow us access. I originally assumed that Tula and Garth would find automatic doors odd, but it turns out that coming from Atlantis they didn't really have any preconceptions of how doors should behave. Atlantean doors can be automated, or triggered to respond to a simple magic prod. The fact that we had a technological equivalent was noted but it wasn't one of the things they picked up on as stand-out strange. A second set of automated doors and… Let's see… Standard interior design, seating area forwards and to the left, newsagent to the right, Coffee Haven along the back wall next to a McDonalds, games arcade and toilets around to the right. Okay. Start with something easy.

I step out of the door and walk forwards until I'm at the edge of the railing around the seating area. Rob ambles after me while Tula lags behind slightly, taking everything in. "Tula, your first task is to purchase a newspaper."

"What is that supposed to teach me about how people from your country behave?"

"Buying something from a shop? Lots. Off you go."

I get another sceptical look, but she locks her eyes on the distant shelf and strides purposefully towards it. Just before she reaches it another customer walks out from behind a shelf and she takes a sudden step back. She has adapted to walking rather than swimming well, and Black Canary has assisted in relearning how to move in combat. Deftly sidestepping around another shopper she reaches the rack and stares for a moment at the selection available. She's been in plenty of surface world shops before but probably hasn't ever bought a newspaper before. For a moment she freezes, then she turns to a fellow shopper. "Excuse me, could you-?"

Rob and I both shake our heads.

"-ah..?" She glances back at us and notices what we're doing. "Never mind." She considers the titles again and appears to recognise one. Picking up a copy of the Hampshire Chronicle, she turns and makes her way towards the till. "I would like to purchase this newspaper."

The woman behind the till looks at her for a moment, then takes the paper out of her hand and scans it before putting it back down on the counter. "Seventy pence, please."

Tula fiddles in her bag until she finds her purse, takes a moment to work out which of the unfamiliar pieces of change amount to the required amount, then passes it to the till operator. The till operator opens the till and deposits the change in the tray. Then she turns her attention back to Tula. Tula stands there for a few seconds, then picks up the paper and waits for a moment. Not getting any further feedback, she takes a step backwards, then turns around and walks back towards Rob and I. "I.. got the newspaper?"

"Yes, you did." She goes to hand it to me but I hold out the palm of my right hand. "No, you keep hold of that. Let's… Let's go and get a snack, and Rob and I will tell you how you did."

I lead the way over to the start of the line and pick up two trays and a thick banana flavoured milk drink from the chilled cabinet. Right, quick estimate of cost and move the money to a readily accessible location… I give my colleagues an interrogative eyebrow raise. "Rob, Tula?"

Rob nods. "Coke, please."

Tula shakes her head. "I will.. have a coffee."

The drinks for myself and Rob go on tray two, along with a glass and a couple of straws. Next comes the cakes and pasties. "You know, I rather think getting them in fresh ruins the muffins. I used to like the ones that had been lightly grilled under the counter lights for a few days. Gave them a crunch. What are you two having?"

Tula hesitates for a second as she tries to work out whether or not this is another test. Rob just points. "Chocolate for me, please."

"Strawberry."

The people ahead of us in the queue move on and the man serving makes eye contact with me. I give him a small smile. "Two chocolate and one strawberry, please." He tongs them onto plates and passes them over the counter. I take them and put them on the first tray. Another momentary eye contact. "Thank you." Then my attention returns to the trays and I push them onwards. Next comes the hot drinks section. Now, when I actually came to places like this back in the old days, anyone trying to order coffee American Italian style would be met by mystified incomprehension. These days… Tula can probably manage.

"Cubano."

Or.. not? Maybe? No, they've got it. A spoonful of sugar goes into a small cup, followed by a blast of coffee from the poncy coffee machine and some milk froth. This goes on the drinks tray -"Thank you."- as we progress onto the till. Eye contact with the person serving, slight rise of the eyebrows.

"Eleven seventy eight, please."

Great thing about modern computerised tills, just press the picture. Makes this bit far quicker. I smile and pass over fifteen pounds, wait a moment and am handed three pounds and twenty two pence back. "Thank you." That goes on the first tray which I pick up. "Rob, would you mind?" He picks up the second and I lead the way towards an empty area near-. Someone cuts in front of me to get to the cutlery. I stop, pulling back slightly -"Excuse me."- and step around them before continuing on to my chosen table. I put the tray down, then pull out a chair and take a seat. Rob puts the tray he's carrying down next to mine and sits down opposite me, Tula taking the seat next to his.

"Now. What did I do differently to you?"

"Why aren't we sitting with Kaldur and the others? They're right over there."

"Four seats per table and English people would hesitate to rearrange the tables that are already in place. Rob?"

"You said please and thank you."

"Very important. English people say those a lot. What else?" Rob looks a little lost. I hold out my left hand and count off my fingers with my right forefinger. "Please and thank you. I asked you what you wanted before trying to buy. I didn't try and engage anyone I didn't already know in conversation. When someone got in my way, I said 'excuse me', even though they weren't paying attention. And I picked a seat as far away from every occupied seat as possible." I take my plate and drinks off their respective trays. "The asking thing is just sensible, the others are English behavioural traits."

She points to me with the Hampshire Chronicle. "What did you want the paper for?"

"I didn't. No one who doesn't live in a county buys county newspapers. And most of them don't. But if you'd thought to buy one for each-" I take the newspaper from her and open it up. "-of us, we could do the most English thing of all and completely ignore each other while reading a paper." I raise the newspaper with a smile and start reading the cover story.

 

2nd March
20:33 GMT

It's dark by the time we arrive at our destination. The village itself has street lights but we've been navigating with headlights and cat's-eyes for miles. Fortunately, the roads leading to Minions were deserted and Atlanteans see pretty well in the dark. Kaldur parks us in the car park in the south western corner of the village. The pub restaurant part of the Cheesewring should still be serving, so that's dinner sorted out. I turn around to open the side door-.

"Hang on a sec." Beryl looks at the Atlanteans. "Feeling anything?"

Garth shakes his head. "Cramped and a little hungry. Unless we were actively looking for it, the magic would have to be very strong for us to feel it in the air."

"Any local sites of magic interest?"

Rob nods. "There's a stone circle a little way north of here. Only bloody working one in this whole part of the country. Dad had a look at it, but…" He shrugs.

Kaldur nods. "Then that will be where we start our investigation tomorrow." He opens the driver side door and steps out into the dark Cornish night.

I open the passenger side and get out onto the dusty tarmac before pulling open the passenger door. Garth passes down our bags and I lay them on the ground next to me. I don't think there's much risk of theft but there are a few things in here that probably shouldn't be left unattended for any length of time. The locked box containing my personal lantern for example, and the few Atlantean texts we could get hold of at short notice that covered dream magic. Once our belongings are out my team mates follow, Rob slamming the door shut behind him. Everyone picks up their things and Kaldur leads the way towards the village centre.

Huh. The rings are in a thong around my neck to prevent the orange glow giving me away. As a result, I can barely see a thing. Oh, empathic vision shows me where the people in the village are but it doesn't show me inanimate objects. I'm so used to augmented vision that the idea of bringing a torch just didn't occur to me. Fortunately, both Rob and Beryl have theirs so I can see well enough to follow the leader without risking breaking an ankle in the dark.

Tula glances back at Rob. "What did you mean when you said that most other stone circles do not work?"

"Oh, well, stone circles are supposed to channel natural geomantic energy. Earth magic. If you know what you're doing you can sort of.. feel the whole area around them by touching one. They make some types of magic easier, too. Anyway, about ten years ago some bunch of vandals went around wrecking them."

"Did they pull the stones down?"

"No, that doesn't do it. That just makes them weaker until someone sorts them out again. What they did was hammer copper stakes into the stones. It just kills the circuit completely dead. If you want to fix it you have to get rid of them then bring in completely new stones, then there's this ritual you have to do to connect it all up again. Dad and me had to spend a few days fixing the one near Truro so I could teleport to the mountain, but there's a whole lot of others no one's fixed."

Wait a second… "Exactly when did that start?"

Rob shrugs. "'bout… Think Dad said the first one he saw like that was about twelve years ago?"

"Oh! Right, that. Yeah, that was John and his friends."

"What? What the hell'd he do that for?!"

"Because some sort of secret inner circle of the Free Masons was trying to summon this… Thing… Jall… Aku… Um, give me a moment." No ring means no flawless recall. We only talked about it once… What was the blasted thing call-? "Jallakuntilliokan, that was it. Primal animus Dragon. They were using the ley lines to focus the magic and draw it in from all over the country, feed it into the ritual. John and Co. thought the best chance they had of stopping it manifesting was to break up the connections…" I shrug apologetically. "It's easier to break things than it is to fix them."

"What..? When did that happen?"

"Rob, it was raining blood, it wasn't exactly a secret. They ended up-." I walk into the back of Tula. "Sorry." And she's stopped because Rob has stopped. I step to the side. He shakes his head and turns in my direction, empathic vision showing him glowing brilliant red. "Rob?"

"And… That's what caused all that?"

"Them using the ley lines like that was probably what caused the weather disruption, yes. They weren't really designed to channel that sort of energy. That much energy. There was some.. other stuff going on with-."

"What happened to 'em?"

My eyes flick momentarily in the direction of Beryl but she looks as mystified as I am. "A bunch of them committed suicide after the summoning failed. I think some got killed when the police broke into the Geotroniks building but a lot of it got covered up. John didn't really want to talk about it. Why, what's the-?"

"Uncle Julian went down for that! He's been in prison for twelve fucking years 'cause of that!"

"What?" I frown. "Isn't your uncle a.. druid or something? A minor magic user? How could anyone possibly think he did it on his own?"

"'cause he was… Fucking…" Rob rubs his eyes with his right hand. "He was doing something with the ley lines… Dad found him, when all that stuff was happening. They had a fight and Dad handed him over to the police. Everyone just thought… Just thought it was him."

"Huh. Okay." I think for a moment. "When we've dumped our bags I'll start phoning people. I.. don't know how long it'll take to-."

Beryl comes up alongside us. "You know who these secret Masons people are?"

"I don't, but I'm sure John could name a few names." Ah hell. This wouldn't happen somewhere like Atlantis, where they can accurately assess the strength of a magic user and won't accuse someone of something they couldn't do. In Britain I could well see them deciding to take it out on the first weirdo in a robe they came across. And with a superhero handing him in… Even if there wasn't a conspiracy to transfer blame, which there almost certainly was.

"Got any witnesses?"

"Yes, but it's all magic stuff. I don't think it's admissible in court."

"We can work around that."

I nod. Yes we bloody will.

Kaldur lays his right hand on Rob's left shoulder. "Any sort of ritual powerful enough to summon something that big would have created an effect big enough to have been recorded by Atlantean mages. We can present those records to the British courts."

"You heard! They're probably not even admissible!"

"They wouldn't be by themselves, but Britain accepts Justice League members as experts in their fields. If King Orin presented it as a recording of some sort of exotic energy, that should be good enough."

Kaldur nods. "And I am certain that Doctor Fate would have an interest in bringing the perpetrators to justice as well."

…

Yes, I think it in this instance I would probably be alright with that. What was it Vorbis said? 'The higher the branch, the blunter the saw'? May as well sic him on them. I still don't know where he put the people he captured, but if he wants to do a quick review of-. Wait, does that club where Prince Charles got possessed actually exist here? I never checked. I just assumed that the author was royal bashing… Heck, I don't have the time to check the entire British government for evil.

"Okay, let's drop off our stuff, get some dinner, then we can start planning."

 

3rd March
06:24 GMT

"Mate… Seriously?" Rob peers out at me blearily from under his duvet.

I pull a Street Sharks themed t-shirt over my head. "Sorry, but I always get up at six."

"Shouldn't you be on… US time or something?"

I wiggle the thong containing the rings at him. "I have an adaptable body clock. Still… Look on the bright side. Shower's free."

"In half an hour I'll start to care."

"Alright. They're serving breakfast for… Another two hours, I think? Do you want me to come back and wake you up when-."

He rolls over and pulls the duvet over his head. "Just go away."

Okay. I turn away and walk over to our room's door. The Cheesewringer had three double rooms available and by a process of elimination Rob and I ended up together. Trying not to make too much noise I open the door, step through and quietly close it behind me. Kaldur and Garth probably aren't up yet. They're early risers like me but they don't have a piece of xenotechnology to tell their circadian rhythms that they're on GMT. If they haven't turned up by half past seven I'll knock on their door.

I walk down the corridor and start down the stairs to the dining area. Tula's also an early riser, but, same problem. Beryl might be-. Huh? Oh! Took me a moment to recognise her with black hair. She's got a laptop out and is busy typing something while next to her a somewhat tired looking Tula pokes listlessly at a poached egg on toast with her fork.

"Good morning, both."

Tula blinks, then sits up a little. "Hello."

"I realise that as a nation we prefer tea, but you can get coffee-." I come around the table to the point that Beryl's laptop no longer blocks my view of Tula's empty coffee cups. "Ah."

"I am waiting for it to start working."

"And done." Beryl looks up from her screen, smiling brightly. "Morning Paul."

"You usually an early riser?"

"I like to spend some time with Cyril in the morning before school. Just in case anything's come up."

"So, what are you-?" The chef walks out of the kitchen proper, having heard my voice. "Just a moment." I turn away and walk over to the counter. "Bacon on toast for me, please."

He nods. "Roight you are. Gawht some luvely bacon in aht the mowment. Local stuuf."

I notice that the blood vessels in his eyes suggest that he hasn't been sleeping well. Probably not something to bring up right away… "Thank you, I'll look forward to it."

He gives me a friendly nod and ambles back into the kitchen area. "Owh, you wunt whyt braad or brohwn?"

"Brown, please." He nods again and passes out of sight. I walk back to the girls' table and sit down opposite them. "What are you working on?"

"Pattern recognition. I'm trying to set Cyril's computer to review footage of every significant public figure in Britain so we can see how many of them are wearing those rings Mister Constantine described last night."

"Any hits so far?"

"One or two. They're all retired, though." She looks pensive for a moment. "Twelve years."

"Oh, it's worse than that."

She raises her eyebrows for a half second, then realises what I mean. "He's in the Tower? God."

Tula swallows a mouthful of bread and egg. "I remember you saying that is where England puts its metahuman criminals. Why is it so bad?"

"It was built about four hundred years ago under the direction of the court magician of the time. No one currently alive knows exactly how it works, so they don't want to risk changing anything in case it stops working. So; the heating's not that great, the air conditioning in the summer is non-existent, the cells are underground so the air gets musty and damp, the lighting's bad, the cells were designed for the sixteenth century… It's very nearly impossible to put anyone in there these days, but if they got him convicted of that whole Jallakuntilliokan mess…"

"Justitia!"

"Rob said that his dad's going to visit him as soon as possible with the news." I look at Beryl. "Any idea on timelines?"

"Normally, we could get a conviction overturned as 'unsafe' within a few weeks. But if he's in the Tower the standard of evidence changes."

"I've got wearable magic suppression devices. Do you think it would help if he agreed to wear them?"

She nods, eyes not focused as she considers. "It might. Can you prove its effectiveness?"

"It worked on Nabu. Not completely sure he'd be happy to admit that in court."

"No, we can get around that. He'll just have to tell the presiding judge. Who won't be a crazy Dick-Dragon summoning Mason-wizard."

I nod. "Yeah, I was calling it the Penis Dragon in my head too. Bit easier to remember than Jallakuntilliokan, isn't it?"

"Do you know what happened to it? After they messed up all the standing stones-?"

"Oh, no, that wasn't what stopped it. John made contact with some sort of hippy shaman commune and three of them performed a ritual to summon the… Anima Dragon-."

Beryl smirks. "The Va-?"

"Let's not. John said he didn’t really remember what happened next on account of nearly getting drowned by-"

Beryl cracks up. "Hahahaha!"

"-the resulting storm. As I understand it, the idea was that the two would neutralise each other. He just didn't expect them to do so in such an enthusiastic manner."

"Hahahaha!" She slides her computer aside and presses her face into the surface of the table, arms folded around it.

"Quite. You'd have to go to Scotland to get the full story. I don't think they have telephones."

I'm not sure if Tula's having trouble with the English vernacular or it's just the jet lag, but she doesn't quite look like she understands the humour. "How could something like that be covered up?"

"Tula, the fact that hardly anyone on the surface studies magic doesn't just mean that we don't use it, it means that the sort of knowledge you'd consider completely basic doesn't exist in the population at large. People only hear about huge acts of magic that they can't possibly miss, so that's what magic is for them. Lots of people saw the rain of blood and other weird things, a few people remember unusually brutal police attacking civil rights groups… And then it stops and they're told that the perpetrators are either dead or in custody. They can't understand that they're being-" I hear footsteps as the cook returns with my plate. "-being told nonsense. And that's what we're working against."

 

3rd March
08:09 GMT

"…not complaining, but it would have been nice to have another data point."

I stop at the top of the ridge which leads down to Hurlers Stone Circles and turn around to look back at my companions. Beryl's been mildly disappointed by the fact that we all had undisturbed night's rests. Undisturbed by nightmares anyway; Tula wasn't the only Atlantean who had difficulty adapting their sleep pattern to GMT. That combined with the fact that Atlantean poison resistance appears to include caffeine means that they aren't exactly bright-eyed and bushy tailed… Or whatever the equivalent Atlantean expression is.

Rob comes up alongside me, guidebook in hand. "Three stone circles. The northern one has thirty stones arranged in a circle, the one in the middle's got twenty eight and the southern one's got nine."

I take a look at the patterns of lichen growing on them. "They don't all look the same age. Was the site added to?"

"Sort of." He shrugs with his right shoulder. "When English Heritage got hold of the site they decided to add back in stones that got worn away or nicked. Only about half of them are original. But that doesn't matter as far as the magic's concerned. They're all, like, plumbed in or whatever."

The rest of the party catches up and takes a look at the arrangement. Garth nods. "I can feel the energy flow. It is a shame that no one from Atlantis has ever studied how they work."

Kaldur smiles at him. "We will likely have to study them in detail in order to determine whether or not they are playing a role in creating the nightmares. You could submit an edited version to the University of Tritonis' Archaeological Institute."

"Tritonis? They would probably find it interesting, but they are the last people who would send a team to the surface world."

"Why's that?"

"Tritonis is isolationist. They don't even like other Atlanteans that much. You remember the Purists who followed Ocean Master?" I nod. "Pure… Ism? Started with the old Tritonian royal family. They actually fought a civil war over the issue just after the Sinking."

Tula nods. "The King of Atlantis supported his vassal King Shalako, but by the time the army of Poseidonis arrived he had already lost. The new ruler took that as a sign that Poseidonis could not be trusted."

Kaldur leads the way down the slope and Beryl sidles up to Garth. "Tritonis? Is that where you're from?"

Tula winces, but Garth himself doesn't really react. "No, I am… I was born in a small settlement near Shayeris. They would be even less interested than the Tritonians."

"Why's that?"

"Their prejudices and superstitions are even more intense. When I was a baby my mother and I were sent into exile because my eyes are the wrong color."

"Oh. Um, sorry."

He shakes his head. "Poseidonis is my home. Someone at the Institute of Arcane Study might be interested."

"I've got a proposal going through to have someone come and take a look at the T-." Um. I glance at Rob.

He notices. "The Tower." He looks uncomfortable. "I guess… I mean, there are people we really need to put in there. Might as well find out how it works."

We reach ground level and head in the direction of the northern circle.

"Did you..? Speak to your dad..?"

Rob nods. "He's going to talk to Uncle Julian on Saturday. He took that Constantine bloke's mobile number."

"Are the stones local?"

"Huh?" Rob looks around to where Beryl is staring at one of the newer stones.

"The stones. Are they local?"

"Um." He gets the guidebook out again. "'…restored using the same type of stone used in the original formation.' So probably not."

Well done Beryl. "Not exactly a small job, carting stones that big around."

"And not cheap, either. Dad tried getting heritage lottery funding for it once. If you try moving a normal lorry on ground like this carrying great chunks of granite it'll just sink most of the year."

I raise my eyebrows at Kaldur. "Worth looking into?"

He nods. "Beryl, once we have finished our preliminary investigation, return to our accommodations and try to discover the source of the new stones."

"Shouldn't be too hard."

I look around. Off-season in a place that had chemical weapons people in it a few weeks ago. No visitors are around and I can't see any locals. "How do you want to go about this?"

Tula steps up to the closest stone and holds out her hands. As an Atlantean the cold of spring isn't a problem for her, but she, Garth and Kaldur are all wearing long sleeves both as part of their cover and to obscure their tattoos. "We should examine the stones for recent changes first. If it were something easy to detect then Captain Cornwall would have done so."

Garth nods. "We can leave off the astral projection until later. To be honest, I hope that we will not have to do it at all."

Beryl looks at him with interest. "Why's that?"

"Interfering with powerful magics you do not understand is not a good idea. Even just observing can carry risks, particularly if a malevolent being is using them at the same time." He looks at Kaldur. "Kaldur?"

"I agree. You may proceed."

"I assumed that you were joining in?"

Kaldur looks a little embarrassed. "My studies have been somewhat.. light, on theoretical thaumaturgy of late. I am uncertain as to how much assistance I could provide."

"It would not hurt to have an extra pair of eyes."

Kaldur holds Garth's gaze for a moment, then nods. "Very well."

Garth and Kaldur join Tula at the first stone and after a moment's hesitation Rob approaches it as well. There's a very slight glow in the eyes of the Atlanteans as they consider the monolith.

Beryl looks at me. "So, what do we do?"

"You're on lookout duty for the moment." I fish the pouch containing the rings out of my coat. "I'm going to give the stones a scan and see if I can get anything useful about their mundane properties."

"I could start looking them up."

"Sorry, but that holographic computer is too expensive to credibly be in the hands of a group of students and it's visually distinctive. If someone looked in your direction…" She nods. "I'm going to be trying not to glow much myself." I take another quick look around and slide my right forefinger into the pouch, gently touching the inside of one of the rings.

Scan.

"There's a pattern of compressed earth over that way which suggests they were brought it from that direction and then the ruts were filled in. The new stones… Actually are Cornish, though they're not from the same place as the old ones. No arcane symbols I recognised on any of them, other than the circle itself." I remove my finger and rehide the pouch. "That was useful. Looks like we're both on lookout duty."

 

3rd March
12:23 GMT

"…beginning with 'G'."

I think for a moment. "Grass?"

"No."

"Garth?"

"No."

"Greenery?"

"No."

Um. "You know that without access to my ring database I don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the names of everyth-."

Beryl sighs. "Gold dust lichen."

"Yes, you see, there's no way I would have known that's what it's called." She slumps slightly. "Got the internet withdrawal shakes already?"

She stares over to where our four magic using team mates are completing their slow and careful examination of the last set of stones. "Just… Bored…"

"I can get a Frisbee if you want?" She doesn't respond. "Football? One of those sticky pad and tennis ball things?"

"I don't think that's a good idea around possibly-evil standing stones."

The four of them step away from the last stone and start heading over, talking amongst themselves.

"Kaldur, any news?"

"Perhaps. Only Robert knows what stones such as these should feel like, but we could not detect anything wrong with them."

Tula nods. "The newer stones feel a little different, but that should not cause anyone to have nightmares."

"Does the area they affect include Minions?"

Rob nods. "Yeah, but all the nearest other circles got wrecked so the area it actually stabilises is pretty much just that."

Beryl nods. "That's why nowhere else is getting affected. There's no connection."

"Probably."

"Astral projection time?"

Kaldur nods solemnly. "That is the next step. Tula and Rob will enter the local ley line system while Garth and I watch over them. Should they encounter anything we will extract them immediately."

"What do you want us to do?"

"I'm afraid that there is little you can do. It may be best if you simply returned to-."

"Ohwell." She jumps to her feet. "I'll see you back at base when you finish."

"Yes…"

Beryl's already started hiking back towards the Cheesewringer. "I'll let you know what I find out!"

I pull out my pouch. "Should I put a ring on?"

"Not yet. Interfacing fully with the geomantic power will probably take a minute or two. Once that is done, it would be helpful if you could monitor their vital signs. I assume that you can do that without there being any obvious external sign?"

"Does my clothing look green? Of course I can. Though… We are going to look a bit odd…"

Rob shakes his head. "Nah. Dad says all sorts of people do weird stuff like this around standing stones all the time."

"Rightyho then. Where are we setting up?"

We head back towards the southern circle. Rob and Tula lay on their backs in the middle, their coats rolled up as pillows. I sit cross-legged next to them. It's chilly, and if they're not going to be moving… I generate two of the thinnest filaments I can and attach one to each of them, giving them each a nearly invisible environmental shield. That will also let me monitor their heart rate, breathing, brain waves and body chemistry. On the other side of Tula Garth sits holding her hand. If something goes wrong it'll be his job to pull her wandering spirit back into her body, or at the very least keep her tethered so that she can find her own way back. Kaldur will be performing the same function for Rob. Without any real idea what we're looking for we can't really make better preparations than this. It's not as if we're looking for a confrontation, this is strictly reconnaissance.

Kaldur looks at Rob and Tula. "Are you ready?"

Both nod. Tula lays her arms down at her sides while Rob has his folded across his chest. John described his own efforts at astral projection as a sort of self hypnosis… At least when the whole thing wasn't involuntary and he was getting pulled somewhere against his will. The Atlantean approach appears to be a little more scientific. Or maybe they just have more precise terminology? I didn't exactly understand what it meant, but it appeared to have clear meanings for each of them and I suppose that as a non-specialist amongst specialists that's all I can hope for.

Brain activity decreases in both Tula and Rob. I know that the physical forms of people engaged in astral projection look a lot like long term coma patients. Heh, and I remember that in the Discworld books Granny Weatherwax made sure that she had her 'I Aten't Dead' sign clasped to her chest whenever she did it in case anyone walked in on her. Oh, that's interesting; since they're not in their bodies in any spiritual sense any longer I can't see much in the way of emotional light from them. Makes sense, I suppose.

Inside them, it sort of… Twists? I mean, they're definitely around somewhere but I don't really understand where. I'll have to try this hand linking thing with Garth or Tula when I next try visiting the Honden of Avarice. That experience makes a little more sense to me now; a normal person has all sorts of different things making up their soul while I've just got one. Makes it very easy for me to visit the Ophidian at home but makes it nearly impossible for me to do anything else. Maybe… Avarice magic? Is what I've been assuming to be a ring function in reality something more arcane?

I sigh. I wish I was already in contact with the Controllers. It would be so nice to have someone to talk to about that sort of thing.

Both Tula and Rob have slowly decreasing heart rates. Their hearts are basically just keeping their bodies ticking over at the moment. Extra oxygen in their muscles won't help them as they are presently so it doesn't have any need to beat faster. There's a faint glow from Tula's tattoos and Rob's skin has become tougher in the way it usually does when he's channelling magic.

"Kaldur, how are they doing?"

Kaldur's eyes are closed, his face a picture of concentration. "Garth and I are at the very entry point to the stone circle. They do not appear to be in distress, but beyond that I cannot be completely sure. Is there anything wrong with their bodies?"

"If I'm honest, Tula could probably stand to gain a little weight. We might need to see if she's having trouble with surface food-."

"That is not helpful."

"Sorry. No, nothing's wrong. All vital signs in line with what I'd expect in this situation." Wait, what was that? "I'm seeing… Flickers of yellow? Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"There does not appear to be, but we will call them back anyway. One moment." Kaldur's frown deepens. "I am… Having difficulty… Garth?"

"Yes, but… I've got her, she's coming out. Keep your connection going and I will aid you once Tula has returned."

"I will."

"Lads, I'm seeing a lot of yellow here. Are you sure there's nothing-?"

Yellow light streams out of the recumbent astral voyagers and into their monitors! Kaldur and Garth both lunge backwards, yellow lights churning around and overwhelming their minds! I see.. some sort of monstrous ogre carrying a Human leg and a bacon slicer. Garth's tattoos glow brilliantly as he pushes himself up from the ground and sprints away from the circle as fast as he can. Kaldur comes up into a fighting crouch and stares unseeing at his environment.

What the hell just happened?

 

3rd March
12:35 GMT

"Kaldur?"

"I won't dance with you. I-I won't. I won't."

Solid yellow. He's shivering. And that was a contraction. He doesn't use contractions when he speaks English. And he turned me down when I said he could speak Greek to me if he wanted. Dancing..? Okay, I don't think I've ever seen him dance before…

I make what I hope is a calming gesture with my hands, smiling at him. "Kaldur. What's wrong? Please, I want to-."

His eyes widen as he sees my hands. He's staring at.. the rings? Oh, does he think I'm pointing a weapon at him?

"Rings pulled from the fingers of the dead."

"No, John's still alive and I never found out where the first one came from. Kaldur, what are you talking about?"

Kaldur's hands drop to his… That's where he normally keeps his Water Bearers. He left them back in the Cheesewringer but it looks like he can't focus well enough through the fear to realise that. Um, okay, Spell Eater out of subspace. Rob and Tula… Heart rates increasing, twitching and quite a lot of yellow. I could force the first two to stop but I'm not sure what the knock on effect on their wandering spirits would be. I don't really want to-.

"You will not take me! I will not be bacon!"

What?

"Rrrraaaagh!" Kaldur thrusts his arms forwards and water precipitates out of the air around me as ice crystals. He just tried to freeze me. That.. might have actually killed me without the Spell Eater. Shit.

"My teeth are mine alone!"

What the hell is he talking about?!

His tattoos are glowing brightly. I'd say whatever cover we had is well and truly blown-. Shit, his freeze effect is dropping Rob and Tula's temperature as well! Sorry Kaldur. I generate manacle constructs and grab his wrists, dragging his arms behind his back.

"No! No!"

The glow of his tattoos sort of.. moves, and then my manacles fall apart. Fortification. Darn it, I hoped he was too out of it to remember that. After those Nanauvian soldiers showed that some defensive magics could turn aside constructs Kaldur worked hard to learn how to do that himself. Otherwise I'd be even shorter on sparring partners than I am already. Bloody inconvenient now, though. All my easy KO options just stopped working.

Right then, gas-. No, hang on. If he's getting this fear from Rob, then he's still connected. Still indicating to Rob where his physical body is. If I knock him out, would that interrupt it? Kaldur lunges at me with his right fist aimed at my face. I float backwards out of the way. His eyes remain fixed on me, ignoring our slumbering team mates. Okay, restrain him without knocking him out or blocking his magic. Lightning crackles from his hands, leaping at me and forcing me to raise a construct to intercept it. Without his Water Bearers forming a link his electrical attacks are rather inefficient and not all that-. I raise another barrier around Rob as a spark goes astray and nearly electrocutes him.

Okay. A barbell comes out of subspace and smacks Kaldur in the diaphragm. "Oof!" Then I slam it into his chest and shove him back. Think. He isn't reacting to my voice, and is only reacting to my general presence. Hallucinating? But he's not seeing his fears. He talked to me about what he saw when Mathew Hayden used the Medusa Mask on him. It magnified the strangeness of the surface world and intensified his worry about not being worthy of King Orin. It didn't make him afraid of being turned into bacon.

Where the heck did that come from?

Kaldur starts to recover, building another electrical charge for a larger blast. Maybe if I remove the stimuli? I use the bar to try and drag him back, but he grabs hold of it and his fortification effect breaks my link. Right, okay. Alternating from one weight to another I drive him backwards in a series of blows that are sure to leave a mark tomorrow. He probably won't feel it until tomorrow, but strong as he is he still has to deal with physics! Yeah, would have been too much to hope that he'd snap out of it once I got him outside the stone circle. A last blow causes him to turn to his side and I return the weights to subspace and replace them with a titanium chain. Careful not to let my construct attachments touch him I wrap as much of it around his arms, legs and chest as I can before wrapping what's left around the granite pillar and welding it closed. Alright, all he can see now is empty fields and he'll struggle to get through the chains with any spells I know about him knowing.

"Help. Someone, please. Help me."

Still solid yellow. His breathing is rapid and shallow. Tula and Rob… Steadily getting worse… Crap, I don't want to call in Nabu already. Where did Garth..? Great, I can't see him. I pull my phone out of my jacket, thumb to my contacts list and press the button for Beryl.

It rings twice before she picks it up. "Anything happen yet, or are you so bored-?"

"Yes. They had a massive fear response. Kaldur became insensible and violent. I've had to tie him to a granite standing stone with titanium chain. Garth's legged it and the rings can't find him." I scan the horizons on the off chance my eyes can succeed where the xenotech hypercomputers have fail-. Yeah okay, I can't even finish thinking that. "Any ideas?"

"What's happening to Rob and Tula?"

"Their bodies appear to be going through a fear response, but they're both insensible."

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"No. They were deep inside the system, but it didn't kick in immediately."

"Captain Cornwall said he only felt it when he connected to someone who was already dreaming."

"I don't think Rob fell asleep." I check, just in case. "No."

"But if we work on the idea that it only starts getting all weird when someone has a nightmare-."

"Someone's having a nightmare now."

"Best I can think of. I'm nearly back in the village now. If you give me a sec-."

"Got a flash bang?"

"Not exactly. I'll get on this, you make sure Garth doesn't hurt himself."

Still no one around. He ran.. away from Kaldur, who seems content shivering in his chains. Ring, infrared. Nothing. Hm. Ring, analyse patterns of depression in the grass and soil. Ah! There we go. He's hiding behind one of the stones of the northern circle-.

The sound of an air raid siren pierces the air, coming from the direction of Minions. I don't know how she did that, but if anyone could sleep through that… Ring, sonic scan of Garth. Give me some idea what he's doing. He.. looks like he's drumming. Drumming and dancing, is there a theme here that I'm missing? I can't really see him very well, but it looks almost like he's doing it reluctantly. I see him bring his imaginary drumstick down, then he throws himself backwards! What? What? I grab him with a construct straitjacket and pull him over. He just fell onto grass, why is he unconscious? Ah heck, how are Tula and Rob-. Oh, thank goodness. The yellow light is fading and from the looks of it they're getting closer to their bodies. Kaldur… Kaldur appears to have lost consciousness as well, but his vitals are steady.

I pick up the phone again. "Beryl-."

"WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW-"

"Beryl, knock it off!"

"-WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW-"

"You say something?!"

"Turn it off!" There's a pause, and the siren cuts out. "Kaldur's unconscious and something weird's happened to Garth. Get to the Cheesewringer and open a window. I'll transition everyone back as soon as you're ready."

 

3rd March
12:47 GMT

"I appreciate your concern-" Garth tries gently pushing Beryl away, but she isn't having any of it. "-but this is not necessary."

She looks at him, her face a picture of scepticism. "Garth, you're shaking like a leaf."

He nods as a new round of tremors passes through him. "Shock and.. the adrenaline remaining in my system. It will pass."

She turns away for a moment and picks up the mug of tea from the bedside cabinet. "Here. Get this down you."

Garth hesitates, then realises that it might be the only way to make her back off and takes it from her. "Thank you."

Tula and Rob haven't woken up quite yet, but as far as we can tell they're back in their bodies. Just dealing with the shock by going unconscious. "Beryl, where did you get an air raid siren from?"

She gives me a half-smile. "I didn't, but I packed a wicked sound system."

Kaldur sits up slightly, wincing as he does so. "A most fortuitous decision."

"Are you.. alright?"

"I believe that the English expression is 'I will live'."

Beryl gives him a quick look over, a decision not at all motivated by his bare torso. "So… What happened? Everything was going fine, then..?"

Kaldur looks down for a moment, then shakes his head. "I cannot clearly remember. The.. shock was so overwhelming… Everything else…"

"Then what exactly did you see? What did you think was going on? You said.. that you weren't bacon and didn’t want to dance." I shake my head and shift my expression to one of bemusement. "Bit of an odd thing to be afraid of."

"I.. was.. convinced that…" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "I was being pursued by a bestial man-like creature. I knew that.. if he caught me-."

Beryl's eyes widen as she works something out. "He'd cut you up and sell your body as black market bacon."

Kaldur looks concerned. "I had not realised that you were affected as well."

"I wasn't. That's Bombsite Bill!"

"Is he known to British authorities?"

"Only the really old ones. It’s an urban legend -one of the ones that are legends, not one of the accurate ones- about… Well, depends who's telling it. Usually a gypsy or something, who's supposed to have lived in London during the Blitz."

Garth tilts his head slightly to the side. "Blitz?"

"The period of the Second World War where the Germans decided that they weren't going to launch a land invasion of Britain and so switched from using their air force to suppress the British air force to using it to firebomb civilian targets. London was particularly hard hit." I shrug. "Though we went on to do exactly the same thing to them."

"Meat got rationed during the war, so the legend says that Bill used to go to bombsites before the Wardens and took people's bodies, cut them up and sold them as bacon. He'd dress in dead people's clothes and steal their jewellery-" Garth starts trembling again and Kaldur does a sort of whole body clench as he tries to keep himself together. "-and knock out their gold-filled teeth with a half-burned brick!"

She's getting too into this. "Beryl."

"And he plays a tune on unexploded bombs with Human thigh bones, and anyone who heard him-"

"Beryl."

"-would have to go and dance with him." She rolls her eyes. "Daft, is what it is. I mean, he's just supposed to be a big ugly bloke, right? Any of us could take him in a fight if he was actually real."

"Spontaneous.. manifestations of fictional things can happen, but I didn't see anything real."

Kaldur shakes his head. "Neither Garth nor I had heard of this 'urban legend' before today. This was not a simple attempt to inspire fear in us specifically."

"Kaldur, you don't have some sort of dance or bacon related phobia you haven't told anyone about, do you?"

"I do not. If I were forced to guess, I would say that we experienced it as someone who was very much afraid of Bombsite Bill would have done."

Beryl thinks for a moment. "It's not exactly a commonly known about thing. I only know about it from Granddad's ghost stories. I don't think anyone in Minions was in London during the Blitz, so I doubt it came from anyone local." She thinks for a moment. "I'm not sure though. I could check."

"I do not think that it matters. Whoever it was, they were not the cause of what we experienced."

"You don't think it's… Krieger, do you? The Medusa Mask…"

Kaldur looks doubtful. "Mathew Hayden used the Mask to inspire fear during our last battle. It magnified my own fears. It did not show me those of other people."

"Right, but Hayden was a thief who got lucky. Krieger is a legitimate sorcerer in his own right, and we never did find out what really happened to him." I shrug. "If he opened a portal back from.. Asgard, or wherever he ended up…"

Beryl shakes her head. "This isn't really his style. I mean, I could see him using the ley line network to try and spread fear across Britain, but we know he can't because the network got broken up. And if we know that, he'd spot it as soon as he tried anything."

I shake my head. "A cancer monster I could understand, but.. Bombsite Bill is really specific-."

Kaldur looks at me. "Cancer monster?"

"That was what Sir Cyril saw. I could see the.. yellow shape inside him, when he was talking about it. I could understand if the fear came from someone else who was dreaming, but that isn't what happened. That just.. creates the circuit."

Garth looks downcast. "And now the four of us are viable targets in our own right."

Kaldur nods. "That may well be the case. However, our mission here has not changed. Beryl, find out where the new standing stones came from. Perhaps they came into contact with some malevolent influence before reaching here."

Beryl pulls over a chair and sits down, activating her arm computer. "I'll get on that right away. Not too many places supply granite standing stones."

"Paul, please remain here with Tula and Robert. Let me know the moment they awaken." I nod as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Garth, you and I will go for a walk. I want to know how far the area being affected by.. whatever it is inhabiting the ley lines, extends. And I think the exercise will do us both some good."

Garth nods and finishes his tea before returning his mug to the bedside table. "I think you are right." He stands, turns and bends to kiss Tula on the forehead. "Sleep well."

She doesn't react. Kaldur dons his coat and Garth follows him out of the room.

"What's going on there then?"

"The three of them became friends at the Atlantean Conservatory of Sorcery. When Kaldur became King Orin's student he spent less and less time with them… He was in love with Tula but was too busy to really do anything about it, and she got together with Garth."

"Huh."

"He was okay with it, but spending time around them while they're being all together is a bit awkward for him."

"I can imagine."

"Got anything?"

"I know where they got the original rock from and where English Heritage bought them from. It's the bit in the middle that's going to take the time."

"Well…" I exhale. "We're in no position to try that again anytime soon. No need to rush."

 

3rd March
13:22 GMT

I push open the door to my room and wave the paper bag containing lunch at Beryl. "Unironically-."

"Pasties." She sets her computer aside and holds out her right hand as I come over and offer her the bag. "Think it would help Rob wake up if we held it under his nose?"

I glance at him. He and Tula are still out, but I'm not going to start worrying for another couple of hours. "I think it would be best to just let them sleep."

She rolls her eyes as she pulls out a pasty. "I was joking. Hey, do they do that 'jam in the corner' thing here?"

"I have no idea. It'll be a surprise." I take a seat and pull out my own pasty before setting the bag aside for when the others wake up. "Have you made any progress?"

She nods and swallows. "A bit. The stones didn't come straight here from the quarry. It looks like English Heritage picked them up in a receivership sale, only there's no record of what company was going bankrupt. The money went to the receiver."

"What debt was being settled?"

She shrugs. "Without a direct link to their server that's about as far as I can go that way." Her eyes narrow a little. "Unless..?"

"Ring, let the magical hacking commence."

A glowing orange line connects her laptop to the ring. "Magical hacking enabled."

"Right then." She reaches for the keyboard with her left hand as she takes another mouthful of pasty. "Urt. Ur-urt. Uh."

"Well?"

She frowns, chews, then swallows. "It doesn't say."

"Oh."

"No, that's weird. Their own system doesn't have a record of who it was sold for."

"I don't really know much about UK bankruptcy law."

"Short version, a company's assets can be seized to cover its debts. Receivers are the people who decide how to divvy it up. They can either break it up and sell the company in bits, or try selling it as a going concern."

"I knew that."

"So someone owned these stones, their company went into administration, a receiver got hold of them and sold them. So, fine; they were waiting until they knew how much money they recovered in total before passing it on to the company's creditors. But there's no record of who the company was or who was crediting them."

"Can you tell where the money went?"

"There's a bank account number, but I don't know who it belongs to."

"Make a note of the number. We can ask Batman to use League authority to require them to release the information."

"Wouldn't it be easier for me to just… Oh."

"What? "

"I think the magical hacking ran out of magic. I can't get into the bank's records."

"They could be warded. And you know how the Swiss are about bank security."

"Got it. Okay, other end of the problem. Heritage hired some pretty big lorries to get them out here, I saw the pictures in the guidebook. I can find them, and… You saw how the new stones looked like they'd been cut down to size?"

"Actually, I… Missed that."

"Oh yeah, some of them look like they'd been cut in half to make two new ones. And a couple had wear patterns that made it look like some of them had been resting on something, maybe in a trilithon? Since I saw a cut surface and a rough surface I can pretty much guess how big the stones were… Here we go: they were shipped from an address in London. Says twelve stones in the description." She looks up at me. "Chemical composition said they'd come from the same place, right?"

"Yes."

"So whoever bought them originally probably got them all from the same place at the same time. The sale happened eleven years ago, there's not a lot of demand for stones that shape… Found it!" Her face falls. "Oh no."

"Well?"

"They were ordered by Doctor Phillip Fulton. Head of Research at Geotroniks."

My eyes widen. Oh… Dear…

"You sure that summoning they were trying to do failed?"

"Yes. John's not the most reliable man but he's like a terrier where the supernatural is concerned. He wouldn't give up until it was dealt with."

"But if you wanted to summon something… You'd practise first, wouldn't you?"

"I would, yes, but cultists might just follow a set of instructions." I think for a moment. "But if it's been here for that long, why did it start getting worse last month?"

"Did anything major happen in the mystic world last month?"

"Last month? Fawcett City briefly became a suburb of hell."

"No, before that."

"I think the Justice League was running around after a group of stolen relics. Didn't amount to much, though. And then…"

"What?"

"The Beast nearly got free. That thing in Stone Cross was part of it breaking the bonds keeping it trap.. ped…"

Oh dear.

"Geotroniks summons something and it stayed trapped in their standing stones until whatever the Beast was broke out of its prison." Beryl nods. "And it can't get out because the ley line network's all messed up. Okay. Makes sense, I suppose. But what do we do about it?"

"I think we can stop mucking around with this undercover stuff. If it's trapped like that it won't be able to do anything differently than what it's doing now."

"What if it tries making the dreams worse? It can use the fear as a connection, right?"

"Maybe. It depends… I need to phone John and see if he can tell me anything else about that place."

"We could just wreck the standing stones. Move the new ones somewhere else."

"Except it might have already transferred itself fully into the local ley lines. If we did that, removing the stones wouldn't do anything except wind up English Heritage." So, what do we..? "I've got a design for an arcane energy storage vessel. Sephtian's.. supposed to be building it, but I doubt that he's prioritised it. If we can get it finished-."

"We can zap it in there Ghostbusters style!"

"Maybe. I doubt it's that simple, but yes, that would be the idea. Okay, I'll phone John, you phone Kaldur."

 

3rd March
13:27 GMT

I tap my foot. "Still engaged."

"How exactly does this 'magical hacking' thing work, exactly? I didn't think you could do magic."

"Oh, I can't. But I can remotely scan the servers holding the data."

"And… What, input thousands of possible passwords until you find one with access?"

"No. That would leave a record someone could use to check who had been accessing the data. What you have to remember is that data doesn't exist.. sort of.. in the æther. It's encoded on a series of… Well, back home it would be encoded on a series of minute switches. Here it's still mostly like that, aside from really advanced things like your arm computer which use quantum wafers instead. The important part is: data storage is a physical thing, so when the ring scans a server-."

"It scans every physical component of a server in enough detail to perfectly replicate what's on it?"

"Yes. I mean, having done that I have a list of every accepted password and what they grant access to, but I don't really need them at-."

"Again?"

I turn away from Beryl and retreat to the far side of the room. "John, hello. Hope I'm not bothering you at a bad time."

"Someone else want a dead relative raising?"

"No, nothing so light-hearted. How well do you remember Geotroniks?"

"I'm not likely to forget." He pauses for a moment. "What d'you want to know?"

"You told me they were involved in trying to summon Jallakuntilliokan, but I don't think you ever told me what else they were up to."

"They were interested in ley lines, how to project energy through them. Damn near killed me when they attacked a train I was on with fear magic. Just a few people on it survived. Whole thing got covered up, of course. 'Points failure', or some bollocks like that."

"And how did this.. 'fear attack' work?"

"They built a stone circle and had psychics draw fear out of these paranoid… Paranoiac mental patients and put it inside. Most of the psychics couldn't hack it for long without going mental themselves, but the people running the place kidnapped this little girl called Mercury…"

I wait a moment, but he doesn’t start again. "What?"

"Oh, just struck me. I still think of her as a little girl when she's older than Zatanna. Anyway, she was more powerful than anyone they'd used before. She could suck up all their fears and shove them inside, no bother. But all that fear-."

"Turned into a giant Fear Elemental with ideas of its own."

"Not exactly. It wasn't clever or anything. It could react to stuff, but that was about it. They were trying to use it to keep the country afraid so the Masons could take over the government, only… "

"Only what?"

"It didn't work. The politics didn't work out quite the way they thought it would. They tried pullin' the plug but their assassin tried to finish summoning Jallakuntilliokan anyway."

"You wouldn't know what happened to it, would you?"

"No idea, mate."

"May I assume that you similarly have no idea what happened to the equipment Geotroniks were using?"

"Why? Is some berk trying it on again?"

"From the looks of things… Did the Fear Elemental have a name?"

"Mercury called it the 'Terror Thing'. Sounds a bit daft…"

"Hello, I'm Orange Lantern. I hang around with a thirty three year old man who calls himself 'Bat Man'. He wears his pants outside of his leggings and no one laughs."

"Heh, yeah, I suppose."

"Someone from English Heritage -looking to save a few pounds- bought the standing stones Geotroniks were using and used them to patch up a group of three stone circles just outside a place called Minions, in Cornwall. Just after the Beast broke out, everyone in the village started having nightmares whenever they went to sleep."

"Bloo-dy hell."

"My current plan is to trap it in that arcane containment vessel my blue ring using alter ego gave me the designs for. I mean, we know it can be trapped…"

"Should work. You need me there to take care of the magic business?"

"No, thank you. We've got four out of five magic using team members here already, and Nabu's on standby just in case. I'll get on to Sephtian and they can read up on the rites required…"

"If you're not in a hurry, might be worth popping up to Scotland and paying Mercury a visit in the Pagan Nation commune. She can probably tell you more about it than me. I don't have the address-."

"But I have a power ring."

"Zed might have warded the place. She knew her stuff and I doubt she's forgotten anything."

"Yes, but if she lives in a place called 'Pagan Nation' it'll probably be one of those 'ward against someone who intends me harm' things. And I doubt they'll have protection against optical scans."

"Sounds like you've got it all in hand. Give us a bell if you need anything else."

"Thanks John." I lower the phone and end the call. "It's called the Terror Thing and it's an artificial Fear Elemental created by Geotroniks as a tool of psychological manipulation. It's supposed to keep people afraid."

"Did he know who's controlling it now?"

"No idea. As far as he was concerned the case was closed. And given the mess they found at Geotroniks, that wasn't such an unreasonable belief."

"Bloody hell, mate." Rob blinks and then gazes blearily around the room. "You don't half talk a lot." He looks himself over. "I'm still alive then?"

"Looks like." Beryl gives him a cheerful smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone stuck my soul in a septic tank and pressed the 'blend' button." He pulls himself up into a sitting position, winces and cradles his head in his hands for a moment. "Mate, you got one of those fully charged up Spell Eater things?" I remove one from subspace and toss it onto the bed next to him. He squints at it for a moment before picking it up in his left hand. "Cheers. Tula up yet?"

"No."

"She okay?"

"She appears to be."

"She was further in than me when it saw us. I was a bit worried it might have got her."

"No, she's-."

"Like that other bloke."

 

3rd March
13:32 GMT

"Other bloke?"

"Yeah, there was…" He winces again. "When it all… When it.. I guess.. sort of… Opened up, inside? There was this horrible-." He curls up, head pressed against the duvet with his arms over his head. "E-eh!"

"Rob?"

"It is…" We turn as Tula opens her eyes and pushes herself up. "It is hard to think about. Just being near the thing.. makes the fear association.. instinctual." She closes her eyes and her tattoos start to glow. "It is almost impossible to resist, but the influence can be.. purged."

Rob looks across at her. "You mind telling me how to do that?"

Her eyes glow as yellow light falls away from her empathic structures. Not entirely -that was clearly a very frightening experience the two of them went through- but the… The 'artificial' excess is slewing off.

"I… I am not sure that I can. The method I am using is a technique I studied after the first time I fought -or rather tried to fight- John Constantine. It was written using thaumaturgical notation that I do not believe you have studied yet."

"Oh."

"Your breath reinforcement technique would probably help a little."

"My what?"

"Ah." Tula looks at me. "What is the word for spirit in English?"

Cease translation. "Spirit." Resume.

She nods. "Spirit."

"Oh, right. Okay." Rob pulls himself into a sitting position with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees. His empathic network starts to intensify as he begins using the power in the Spell Eater to fortify himself. From the looks of things it's slower than what Tula was doing, but it should sort him out in an hour or two.

"Tula, Rob said that there was someone in there already? There weren't any reports of anyone going missing."

She shakes her head. "It looked as though he had been in there for some time. He was almost a.. a part of it."

Beryl thinks for a moment. "Someone from Geotroniks, you think? One of their patients?"

"Could be. One of the psychics, or just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Tula shakes her head. "What is 'Geotroniks'?"

"Beryl, bring them and Kaldur up to speed. I'm going to Scotland. Back in a few minutes."

"Gotcha."

I walk over to the window, brush aside the curtain and open it a little. Ring, northern Scotland... Five miles up. Oh, and go upwards first. I don't want anyone spotting an orange line coming from this room.

Compliance. Course available.

And transition.

I take a moment to look down on the countryside below me. Pretty, but I'm not here to admire the scenery. Ring, analytics.

Available.

I'm looking for a small community -hundreds of orange crosshairs appear in my vision- near either a large body of water or the sea -about three quarters disappear- with few cars or other motor vehicles -about half- practicing subsistence farming -most of the rest, just islands left for the most part- and no churches. Most of the islands go out. Okay, I can check those.

…

I don't suppose one of them has a sign saying 'Pagan Nation' on the front -all but one disappear- gate…

…

Thanks, ring.

Um, right. Armour… Light armour. I don't want to look like some kind of doom robot. Keep my face visible, but this is a professional occasion. I'm not going to use construct armour, but… Environmental shield to medium and Spell Eaters at the ready. Plot a course to directly above the settlement and about… Three hundred metres up?

Compliance. Course available.

Transition.

Looking down, I see small wooden houses with thatched roofs, their chimneys a mixture of brick and stone. Not all completely primitive, though. I see several wind-powered electrical generators -small ones- linked to a wire strung along a series of fence posts. There's a stream powering a water wheel which I'm guessing is used for grinding grains into flour. Short flag-topped poles mark the edge of the cliff. I can see people working on things, but there isn't much that grows well at this time of year and at this latitude. From the looks of things most people are inside.

Right then. Chap there's crouched down doing some weeding, he seems to be as good a person to ask as anyone. I descend through the sky until I'm floating just off the ground behind him. Woollen clothing with more than a little mud on it. I suppose I can see why this life might appeal to some people but I'm sure I'd hate it.

"Excuse me?"

He doesn't look around. "Yeah mate?"

"Would you be so good as to direct me to either Ms Zed or Ms Mercury?"

He pulls out a weed of some kind. "You from the-" He half turns so he can look at me. "-papers or shuckingfhit!" His left hand slips, and without the support of his left arm he falls on his face. "Oof!"

I bend down to help him up. "I say, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." He pushes himself up. "Just a bit of a shock. Where'd you come from, then?"

"Eastbourne. Well, actually, a small village near Eastbourne. In a parallel universe."

"Oh."

"Yes it.. doesn't really help, does it? Sorry about that." He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order. Ah, that's what the electricity's for. "I'm not here about the marijuana, I really just want to speak to Ms Mercury."

"Who are you?" Rather than trying to explain why I can't say my own name, I take a business card out of subspace and hand it to him. He reads it. "Orange Lantern. Um. Right. Err. This way."

I follow him along a muddy track, towards what appears to be the village centre. The buildings here look slightly older than the others. Well. Twelve years have passed. He leads me up to the door of a longhouse and pushes it open. Since he's a primitive I'll let him off not holding it open for me. "Hey, um, Mercury? There's a bloke here who wants to talk to you."

"I doubt it, Coll. I think I'd know about it if anyone did."

I step forward and push open the door myself. In the dark -of course, it would be rather hard to make glass here- the orange glow from my environmental shield is clearly visible and the sigil on my chestplate stands out even more. Several people are eating lunch around a wooden table. One of them -a short woman with brown hair- looks positively shocked to see me. "No, I really do wish to speak to you, Miss Mercury."

"AAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!"

 

3rd March
13:39 GMT

"Um..?"

"AAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!" She shoots to her feet, knocking her chair aside as she staggers backwards.

"I'm sorry, should I-"

"Ah!"

"-maybe come back later?"

She seems to get herself together a bit. I'm not seeing fear -well, not much- so I'm not sure exactly why she's screaming. Everyone else is scared now though. Coll has retreated to the side of the room and the others look about ready to leg it.

"I'm sorry?"

"What are you?"

"I'm… You know, it still sounds weird to say this? I'm a superhero. And I want to talk to you about-."

"You don't exist."

"I…" Huh? "I'm sorry, could you just give me a moment?" I poke myself in the chest with my right forefinger. "I suppose that's not.. conclusive. Excuse me madam." I walk over to the table and look at the closest woman sitting there. "Would you mind terribly poking me?"

She hesitates.

"No, really, I want you to poke me. Nothing else will happen."

She pokes me quickly and lightly on my left arm and then jerks back.

I return my attention to Mercury. "See? Real. Now, can I have a word? Or do you want to scream some more?" I think about what I just said for a second. "Not that I want you to scream, you just seem to like screaming."

Mercury has her eyes fixed on me, in the manner of one trying to stare down a Rattlesnake.

Alert! Spell Eater temperature increasing.

Oh! "You can't feel me with magic and that's why you think I don't exist. Right. That makes sense." Ring, bare chest time. My cuirass disappears into subspace and Mercury squints as she tries to make sense of the tattoos. "Reminds me of a story, actually. There were two warrior monks. The elder was a powerful sorcerer and the younger, his apprentice. The younger had a particular gift for prescience, to the point where he neglected his other training because-" I shrug. "-it just wasn't as much use. So there came a day when they were leading their battle brothers into combat. The elder monk split the force with himself in command of half and his apprentice in command of the others. They would fight their way through separate screening forces with the intent of surrounding their enemies and catching them in a crossfire. But… When the fighting started-."

She doesn't quite scowl. "The apprentice used his magic to beat his enemies faster than his teacher and ended up attacking before the other part of the ambush was ready. So they all died."

"You've heard it before! But no. They had radios. They took some losses, then pulled back and called for help. His teacher had his part of the force double time it, and they were still able to pull off a victory."

"What do those tattoos do?"

"Lots of things." I make a circling motion with both hands, indicating the room. "And I'd be happy to discuss it, but would you mind telling everyone they can calm down first?"

"Why don't I know anything about you?"

"Epic strength scry ward and a pendant-" I take hold of it with my right hand. "-that eats magic energy. Which means that all your magic senses don't work." I pause. "Also, I come from a parallel universe with no magic."

She pulls a face.

Time for juvenility. I point my right forefinger at her. "Hur hur."

"How do you know who I am?"

"John Constan-" She's already nodding and doing the 'of course' dance. "-tine. Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"Yes, fine." She walks past me towards the door. "This way."

I re-armour myself then follow her out of the building, where it looks like her shout of alarm attracted quite a few other tribespeople. They look to her for reassurance but she just ignores them in favour of getting to somewhere where there aren't people. She leads the way out of the village proper and over towards the cliffs.

"Last time I saw John, he ran off to chase after his imaginary friend. With the help of a few hallucinogenic mushrooms. What does he want now?"

"Geotroniks." Her head whips around. "Whatever else happened in the aftermath, the 'Terror Thing'? Survived. We've tracked it down and… We were going to bind it permanently. But it turns out that there's a man inside. Would you know anything about that?"

"Siskin. He was one of the psychics they used to create it. He got trapped and couldn't get out again."

"Do you know his first name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It's my job to get the poor bastard out of there. Any information I can get helps with that."

She looks back out to sea. "Michael. He worked for the Ministry of Health."

Ring?

Accessing personnel records.

Bother. "He's listed as 'deceased'. They kept his body on life support for a couple of years, then had the machines turned off and cremated it."

"Plenty more died than just him."

"Yes, but I might still be able to help him. Okay, can you describe-?"

"Can it get out?"

"What, the Terror Thing? No, the ley lines never got fixed after most of the standing stones got spiked. It's stuck in a place called Minions, in Cornwall."

"Ley lines are artificial. Ancient male druids used them to force natural energy into straight lines. Geomantic power flows perfectly well on its own. That stone circle is holding it where it is, but if it gets damaged the Terror Thing will get out just as well as if the other stone circles got repaired."

I nod. "Worth knowing, thank you."

"You won't be able to do it."

"Says you."

"I saw him when he was in there. He was all… Merged into it. He wasn't a separate person anymore twelve years ago. I doubt there's anything left of the real him now. The Thing is probably just pretending to try and get you to help it."

"Thinking like that is why you're living in a primitivist commune rather than doing anything useful with your life."

She turns on me. "This is how people are supposed to live. Working together, knowing each other. In balance with the Earth."

"Yeah. I cleansed the sea of Human refuse. I refroze the North Pole. You did some gardening and smoked some weed." I shake my head. "I'll let you know how it goes. Ring, transition."

 

3rd March
16:06 GMT

"…says it will take a couple of days to get the containment vessel finished, but he's going to get started immediately. Since King Orin set us the task…" I lean back slightly in my chair. Garth and Tula have gone for a walk, Beryl's hard at work on her computer and Rob's got his textbook out.

Kaldur nods. "The area connected to the standing stones extends several miles in all directions before it fragments. I do not believe that the 'Terror Thing' could escape in that way."

"Mercury seemed to think it would be able to if this stone circle was destroyed. That the natural system was being distorted by the stones and would reconnect if the circle was killed."

"Then we will not take the chance. Robert, how do you feel?"

He looks around. "Pretty rough. We're not touching that thing again today, are we?"

"No, I think that would be quite unwise." Kaldur gets up and walks over to the bag containing the information on Atlantean spirit projection techniques. "It would seem that our current level of knowledge is wholly inadequate to the task at hand. We will all need to do a significant amount of studying before we attempt touching that creature again."

I nod and Rob twitches. "Beryl, got anything?"

"I've got transcriptions of the case notes for all of Geotroniks' patients. It's all there, all the dreams people have been having. Bombsite Bill, the Cancer Monster, undead unborn children… Horrible stuff."

Kaldur looks up from the book he picked out. "Did any of them survive?"

Berly glances up long enough to shake her head. "Pretty much everyone who had anything to do with the place died. The security chief murdered a lot of them, then… The firearms units who went in weren't taking any chances. Some of the 'police'-" I hear the distaste in her voice. "-they were using to round up victims weren't in the building at the time. A lot of them turned up dead over the next few months. I don't think we’ll find anything else there."

"Has your program managed to track down any of the secret Mason-wizards?"

"Some." She exhales. "I've met some of these people. Cyril and me…"

"It is never pleasant to learn that people your government trusted with high office are evil."

"I can understand Orm wanting to be king. He grew up expecting to be king. These people… They're already running the country. I don't understand what they thought they could gain by making everyone afraid and summoning the Penis Dragon!"

"Did you ever read Nineteen Eighty Four?"

She looks up and doesn't immediately look away again. "Yes?"

"Do you remember the bit… What was his name..? O'Brien, explains why the Inner Parties of all three states are intentionally reducing the level of technology available to everyone, including Inner Party members?"

She thinks for a moment. "Always, Winston, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face - forever."

That was a worryingly good impression. "I don't remember the exact quote -I'm sure you're right- but his point was that as long as they were privileged beyond what the Outer Party and especially the Proles had, they'd be happy even if the absolute level of luxury was less than what they could have otherwise had. When I first read that, I found the idea… Profoundly revolting. Like… They'd be happy cutting off one hand if everyone else had to cut off both of theirs." I sigh. "Sounds like some people treated it as a 'how to' guide. The fear and the Dragon would let them stay in power forever, without having to worry about the system being overthrown. No one would be able to remove them. Perfect control."

"I don't even think it would have worked. You can't control people with just fear."

"Did you think Jallakuntilliokan was going to be used as a blunt instrument? The whole point of calling it up was to control the soul of the country, to make the British people things that could be controlled in that way. Try and.. turn the country into Apokolips-lite."

Kaldur looks up. "Paul, you are more familiar with.. non-standard magic practices than I am. Do you truly believe that there is a chance that we could save Mister Siskin from the Terror Thing?"

"No. His body was destroyed, and while I could clone a body for him, I doubt that any record of his DNA exists. As a result, there isn't anywhere for us to put his spirit. Other than a magic containment vessel of some kind, and frankly I doubt that constant isolation would be all that much better than what he has now. That's even assuming that we could isolate him from the rest of the Terror Thing, which I doubt. To take the fears from the paranoiac he would need to connect to them himself, creating a magic bond with every single one. If more were added after he got stuck… No, I don't see it. I could well be wrong, but…"

"Then what is it you hope to achieve?"

"I… Hope, that the Terror Thing is mindless fear. Fears. I'm guessing that it's not purposive, beyond having a vague desire to feed and keep itself alive. I mean, as far as we can tell it hasn't really done anything… If that's the case… He's the only mind in there."

Kaldur's eyes grow distant for a moment. "You believe that he could take control of it."

"I think he could become the mind of it. He wouldn't exactly be him any more, but… That ship's sailed. Once he's got it under control we can stick him in the containment unit until we can work out how to build an arcanotechnological avatar for him. It's not.. an ideal solution…"

Rob puts his book down and looks at me, clearly uncomfortable. "I… I'm not sure that creating a giant fear Elemental is… A good idea. Like, at all."

"You do realise that Siskin is probably the last living witness to that whole business, right? Someone who could testify to what they were doing in court."

He scowls at me. "He'd hardly be credible if he made the whole court claw their own eyes out in terror, would he?"

Oh, I… "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, you shouldn't." He looks away for a moment. "Besides, it turns out that the whole Establishment needs Uncle Julian to stay inside. What're the chances anyway?"

"Rob, if it comes right down to it I'll forcibly extract him myself."

Beryl frowns at me. "Steady on."

"What? If he can't get a fair trial, why should they have the right to try him in the first place? I'm not going through all this effort to keep arseholes in power."

"But you're not just going to..?"

"No. I'll let the appeal happen. But if it's clearly bullshit, they're going to need a new prison afterwards." She looks distinctly uncomfortable with the idea. "Well? What do you think I should do?"

"I don't know! This is my first day plotting high treason! I usually just do data analysis and fighting evil Morris Dancers!"

Kaldur looks bewildered. "Evil Morris Dancers?"

"It's not as common as you'd think."

 

4th March
09:27 GMT

"So we've definitely ruled out anyone astral projecting themselves into the standing stones..?"

I glance at Beryl as we make our way across the moor lands. "Seems sensible."

"And your plan is.. to astrally project yourself into the standing stones."

"Well-."

"I think I might have detected a tiny contradiction in your thinking."

"I wouldn't actually be projecting myself into the standing stones. It's more like-."

"Creating an artificial ley line leading to yourself and inviting it in." She looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes her head. "I'm not really seeing how that's any better."

"Okay, firstly, the ley line would be pure orange light. If the Terror Thing tried using it, it would be literally incapable of using most -if not all- of its power. Secondly, however powerful it is, it is not more powerful-" I pat the box containing my personal lantern. "-than the Ophidian."

The spawn of the Insect is no match for us, my Agent!

I know. But brute force won't save Michael Siskin.

I defer to your judgement, my Agent. Act as you see fit.

"And you wanted me to come along because..?"

"While we don't need to worry quite as much about maintaining cover as we did when we thought this might be a Human magic user, I don't think that scaring people more will help anyone. It would look odd if I came with a group of six and then spent all day on my own. Plus, neither of us can learn enough magic in a couple of days to help with that part of the job."

"Was Rob waking up last night as much as Tula was?"

"Probably. I'd say we can safely conclude that what they did formed a connection to the Terror Thing. Hopefully they can come up with some sort of counter today. Either that or…" Oh dear. "I was about to suggest leaving temporarily, but-."

"You think that might risk it getting out." She looks away for a moment. "Other people who've had the nightmares have left already. Do you want to try calling them back?"

"I hope that's not necessary." Is it? "No. If that was enough to let it get out it would already be out. But… Direct, intentional contact would create a stronger link. I'd rather not risk it."

The standing stones are just ahead. It's funny: I know all about their arcane significance but there's still a little something in the back of my head insisting that I'm being silly. That they're just lumps of stone. Atlantean magic is just so overt, at least the bits I've encountered on a regular basis. The idea that a landscape that looks just like the decidedly non-magical landscapes back home has something else going on isn't something I've adjusted to.

I walk into the middle of the northernmost circle and sit down, putting the box down in front of me and opening it up just a little. Obviously, this.. would be easier if someone was dreaming -or rather, having a nightmare- but I think I'd rather that the Terror Thing wasn't on the top of its game when I try this.

I glance over to where Beryl is leaning against one of the stones, carefully watching what I'm doing. "Didn't have any nightmares yourself?"

She gives her head a small shake. "Didn't really see anything."

"No, but you were here before us."

"I'll let you know when. How about you?"

I think for a moment. "I don't remember the last time I dreamt of anything. Given all the work I've had done, I'm not sure that the Terror Thing could connect to me even if it wanted to."

Okay, enough putting this off. I take a few steady breaths, then try the basic spiritual reaching out. It isn't really based on vision, but I'm so used to perceiving things.. interpreting what my soul tells me is there as colour that it doesn't even occur to me to think of it in other terms. I can see Beryl easily enough… No. I'm going to have to turn it up all the way for this to work and I don't really want to become privy to every facet of her psyche. That would be rude.

I turn my attention to the stones themselves. The ones from Geotroniks clearly stand out, the mad passions of the serial killer Webster still associated with them. I get brief flashes of the… Of the people he garrotted and decapitated. I think his face is worse. They never did find out exactly who killed him, though my money is on one of the armed policemen properly coached by the Mason-wizards.

Now… Down. Again, it isn't down any more than I'm seeing, but I can't think of a better word for it. The yellow light of fear leaves a trail I can follow well enough, thin threads flowing from dozens of minds towards a point far below us. Probably wouldn't have been able to perceive it pre-Ophidian. Looking down… The Terror Thing is down there somewhere. But I don't want to visit it.

What does Siskin want? He wants to be free.

Ophidian.

I feel her alongside me, looking down as I do. Her tongue flicks out.

Faint, my Agent. Very faint.

And then I can see it, the strand connecting the soul of one who wants to the Embodiment of all Want. And… For some reason, to me. Alright then. I reach out, forming a probably-not-entirely-literal winch and winding the thread around the spindle. And turn. Okay. I have no idea what's literally happening, but I'm definitely pulling on something. Is this a thing that can snap? The thread is thin, but it appears to be strong. Or at least I can't detect any significant weaknesses.

Something -I have no idea what- roils beneath me. Something's coming.

Who's there? What is this?

She wasn't joking about him being faint. The part of Siskin I can see is an orange outline only, faint and frail and incomplete. His face is mostly there, but large parts of his head are simply gone. His left arm is little more than a stump and his right is emaciated. The ghostly image of a hospital issue t-shirt terminates in frayed cloth and what appears to be exposed spinal column.

"Mister Siskin."

It takes him a moment to focus his attention on me. Oh God. It's still got me, hasn't it?

"Yes. But that isn't why I'm here. Jallakuntilliokan's rising was prevented. Pretty much everyone associated with the project was killed. Now I'd like to help you."

Get me out please get me out get me out? There's so little of me left. The shade looks at its own ruined body. I'm being… Digested. It's… It's learning, from me. It doesn't understand Humans, but.. it will. Once I'm all gone… And then…

"Enough of that, Mister Siskin. You have a chance to get yourself back together again. I can help, but you'll have to provide a lot of the effort yourself."

What can I do? I've tried… I can't force my way out.

"Mister Siskin, you can never be as you were. But you can become something else. Fearing the Terror Thing, fearing your lost humanity, those things make it strong. Only by embracing it, by mastering all of the fears that make it up can you become something greater than it. You can take its power and make it your own."

No I can't! Can't you see? I'm just… Just a wisp.

He's fading.

Ophidian.

We exhale, our breath carrying every desire he's ever felt. Every moment of want and need and hunger. They flow over him, coalescing around him, reinforcing his wisp-self, turning it into something more substantial. His arm returns, his features flesh out and his body turns back into something approximating a healthy Human psyche.

At least from an avaricious point of view. This is probably a very bad idea from the point of view of spiritual balance. Ah well. That ship has thoroughly sailed.

"Feeling better?"

Yes, I… I think so. He stares at himself. I can remember being… Me. I haven't remembered… He peers at me. You really think I can beat it?

"It's not a fight. It's not about overpowering it. You can't win that fight. Victory is achieved through comprehension, undermining its strength and making it your own. Every time you shrink back, you give it victory."

And there's no other way out? My body-.

"Was cremated years ago. I'm sorry, Mister Siskin. Either you absorb it, or it absorbs you."

 

Pff, what? Ring?

4th March
19:58 GMT

I reach up to my forehead with my right hand and pull off the post-it note.

"Got bored, wandered off. Back at eleven. Beryl." I sigh. "Thanks, Beryl." Ugh, I'm glowing orange and it's dark. If there's anyone around… I suppose it's not actually a problem, not now that we know what we're dealing with. Time loss during meditation, ten and a half hours. So… About a one to two hundred ratio of time experienced to time passed. Better than when I first went to the Honden. Because I'm getting better at it, or because that was easier?

I reach forwards, snap shut the lantern case and take hold of it before standing up. Ring off, and… Ah. I brought a small torch with me, but it's going to be a bit annoying going back in the dark like this. Okay, sling the lantern case over my shoulder, torch out and turn it on. I think I'll avoid the bank, so the best route back to Minions is a little longer. The ground's.. fairly level and dry enough that I'm not worried about getting stuck or anything like that.

I give the distant village a glance before setting out. Quite a strong yellow glow, though at this distance it's a little difficult to pick out individuals. I frown. Odd. It's only eight o'clock. Eh, maybe they've taken to getting early nights so they have a chance to actually get the sleep they need. Keeping my attention on the patch of ground in front of me I fish out my mobile and scroll down to Beryl's name. I mean, back at eleven? Okay, she had no way to get my attention, but she could just have taken out her arm computer or something. I doubt anyone would have focused on that when there was someone next to her glowing bright orange.

I tap the name, then bring the phone up to my ear as I take another look at my surroundings. If I head towards the Minions Heritage Project, that'll take me to a track and then the road. No street lights or cat's-eyes out here, but there shouldn't be a fat lot of traffic at this time of night.

"Oh, come on Ber-." I hear her answer. "Beryl, really? You left me in a field-?"

"OhGodPaulyou'vegottogetbackhererightnow."

I come to a stop. "Why? What's going-?"

"It'shere. OhnoIthinkthey'vefoundme."

Oh no. Rings on and transition.

The field disappears and I'm… Standing over the road leading into the village? Ring?

Unable to transition directly into Minions due to intense fear aura. Conventional flight is-. I accelerate towards the Cheesewring. -available.

Ring, scan for Beryl.

Unable to comply. Fear aura interfering with standard scan. Best estimates on display.

Sonic and infrared estimates of which of the people in the village are most likely to be Beryl appear before my eyes. Looks like the person most likely to be Beryl is currently on the roof of the Minions village shop.

"He's in here! He's in here!"

"Light it! Light it quickly!"

What? There's a mob around the shop, some members of which are already inside with-. Oh dear. There's no actual roof access, and Beryl's got her sword pointed directly at the patch of roof nearest to the open window that was probably her egress point. There's a flash of orange from the inside of the top floor as someone sets something on fire. The people inside are pulling back…

I attach a construct harness to Beryl and haul her into the air.

"Beryl, what the hell is-?"

She squirms violently against the harness for a moment before throwing her sword at me -I jerk back in the air and catch it with a filament- and going for her slingshot. I know that a slingshot can do someone a mischief, but in a fight like this it's even more hopeless than a pointy stick launcher. And she's full of yellow. I know I'm bright orange, there's no way she can-. A round metal ball hits me in the forehead, the energy of the impact being effortlessly absorbed by my environmental shield.

"Beryl, it's me. Orange Lantern."

Two more balls hit me in the forehead. She's still yellow and she's shaking and I don't like how her heart rate's still increasing. Keeping hold of her I fly directly upwards three miles. Maybe dist-? No, another ball. I take a Spell Eater out of subspace and tie the thong it's attached to around her neck. Nothing. I try shoving the pendant itself into her blouse. No, she's still freaking out. Ring, is my Spell Eater heating up?

Some magic is being absorbed. However, the quantity is not commensurate to that of a focused attack.

Okay, she was reasonably together on the phone-. I remember watching a video on mental disorders. One of the case studies was of a young man who had lost the ability to recognise his father by sight. He saw a man who somewhat resembled his father, but it didn't trigger the 'this is my dad' circuit in his brain. Hearing him on the phone worked, he recognised his voice as long as there was no visual cue…

I turn Beryl around, back off and take out my mobile again, pressing my right thumb against her name. A short jaunty instrumental plays from Beryl's leg and she frantically grabs at her mobile and presses the answer button.

"Beryl-."

"He'sgotmehe'sgotmehe'srightbehindme."

"Okay, Beryl? I need you to take a deep breath."

"What'reyou-?"

"Beryl, we came to Minions to investigate something using fear magic. Do you remember?"

"Buthe's…" There's a slight distortion in the yellow fog enveloping her. "He's… Not. He's not. Okay. Okay. There's no one behind me, and I'm not hanging in the air."

"No, no, you are, and it's me. And, a slingshot? Really?"

"Hah heh."

"Okay, what do you think is behind you?"

"B-bombsite Bill."

"Whom you know to be fictional."

"I thought, like… The Terror Thing had gotten strong enough to make people's fears real."

"I didn't see anything like that, and I'm the most magic resistant person I know." Her heart rate starts dropping very slightly as she starts to get a grip. "What were you seeing?"

"I was climbing through a bombed out building… Only I knew it was really the village shop. And he was coming for me. I needed-. I had to hide, so he couldn't-."

"Sell you as black market bacon."

"It sounds stupid when you just say it." Another couple of breaths. "What was really happening?"

"I'm not sure." I look down. "I think they thought you were Bombsite Bill and they started burning the shop down. They're still standing there, trying to make sure that you don't get out."

"Where have you been?"

"The standing stones. I only just came out. Were you really going to leave me there until eleven?"

"Eleven in the morning!"

"Okay. So, what exactly happened?"

 

4th March
20:03 GMT

"I stayed with you for.. about half an hour. So I stuck a note on the stone-."

"My forehead."

"No, the stone to start with. Then I walked back into town to see how the others were getting on. They were pretty out of it after last night-" I start nodding, then remember she can't see me. "-so I picked up one of the books they'd finished with and came back. Started reading it. Didn't expect to learn how to do magic or anything, but I thought I might be able to pick up enough to make intelligent suggestions. I gave it about another half hour, but I couldn't understand the notation well enough to make sense of what I was reading. Then I got annoyed, stuck the note on your forehead and stormed back into the village. Thought I could make myself useful by collating data on exactly when what nightmares happen."

"Did you sleep alright last night?"

"Tula woke me up a couple of times. Didn't have any nightmares myself."

I glance below us. The shop is burning well. Everyone seems to be well clear… I create a cold gun construct and put it out. As the flames die down several members of the crowd cry out in shock.

"Was that-?" Beryl shakes her head. "Oh, this is annoying."

"I thought I heard a few other people cry out last night."

"Gotta be honest, I put headphones on and listened to white noise after the second time."

"Ugh, so we don't know if it actually became worse. Okay, so you started asking people about it..?"

"Shouldn't you be, like, doing something about everyone down there?"

"I could gas them all, but they're not actually dangerous to anyone at the moment and I'm hoping that this is costing the Terror Thing in concentration or power." I suppose a quick check wouldn't hurt. "A few people are huddled in various buildings, but most people are cowering around the building I picked you up from."

"Rob and that?"

"They're…" I can't see them. "Ring? Make an effort."

In a matter of seconds the ring switches between infra red, radar, sonic scanning and MRI. Nothing. Try harder. Ah! There! I may have had to saturate the whole area with orange light before I got a return-. "They're heading away from here in different directions. I'm not sure-."

"It's inside me!" / "It's crawling in my skin!"

The shouts draw my attention downwards. The mob's… No longer a coherent entity. Now people seem blind to one another's presence. They're clawing at their own skin, trying to pull something-. They believe there's something living inside them, something malign and evil. Ah shit.

"It's turning the crowd against themselves. I'm using gas." Filaments shoot down, turning into gas masks and attaching themselves to the faces of the people below as I start transmuting knockout gas.

"How safe is that stuff? 'Cause I remember that thing in that theatre in Russia-."

"The gas they used was heavier than air." People start dropping. Hard ground to collapse on but I can't spare them my attention. The aura of fear is strong enough that I'm really having to focus in order to do this safely. "Assuming that we're talking about the same incident, Russian Special Forces pumped the gas into the lowest point in the room. Anyone near there got a massively excessive dose. I'm doing the exact minimum-" I'm forced to use a manacle construct as a woman tries to cut into her own arm with a knife. "-I can to keep them down."

"What about the people not down there?"

"Mob down. We're lucky this is such a small place. Right." I drop further down, dragging Beryl with me. "We can get them next. They don't seem to.. be…"

"Be what?!"

The yellow light inside them is too structured. I can see… Separate sets of fears, linked by lines of commonalities to theme. Is it trying to make itself a host, or hosts? Whatever, as long as we can contain it then it shouldn't matter too much. I force holes in walls and gas them unconscious as well. I have no idea if that's actually weakening it-.

"Ah, Orange? They're getting up again."

What?

"The people, they're-" I look around as the mob awakens. "-getting back up. How are they doing that?"

Scan. Shit. "They're not. They're still unconscious. The Terror Thing's controlling their bodies." The patterns of yellow are the same. Was it… Practising? Or… Was it just that those others were asleep and it finds that easier?

Construct armour time.

"Siskin, can you hear me?"

They haven't managed to get upright quite yet. From the jerky motions of their bodies it looks like it's having trouble working out how Human bodies function. Individual joints, individual muscles, no trouble at all. The things as a whole? Not happening. On the other hand, it doesn't seem to need to look through their eyes to know what's going on around it.

"Yes."

They also all speak in unison. That's unsettling.

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing?"

"I hear you. The little voice that once thought to use me as a weapon is here. A part of my greater whole."

"Okay. And?"

"And I hear more fears." Oh, looks like they're getting the hang of standing up. "Every fear shall be a part of me and every mind shall shine with my magnificence!"

"Think negotiation's shot, then?"

"Could be. Of course, these people can only move at a maximum of Human running pace. If we pick up the runners and bring them back-."

A brilliant golden ankh appears in the air over the mob and oh heck.

"Witness the power of Fate!" The portal ankh closes as Nabu glides through, his fists glowing. Light flashes and the closest couple of people go down on their knees, the fear structure in their souls straining under the assault. "Fell spirit! Return to whatever foul realm spawned you!"

"Great."

"Mobile phones." I glance back as Beryl waves hers to the side. "Wonderful things."

"Yes, I'm.. sure they are."

"What?"

"Nothing. Ring, location of Kaldur." I see its best guess, a couple of miles down the road. "Transitioning."

 

4th March
20:06 GMT

"You could be happier."

"Yes, probably." Five hundred orange strands fill the air, a tiny distortion revealing Kaldur's location. It's a bit like Heroes of Might and Magic V. You spend all that time levelling up Godric and Isabel and then you have to fight against them. With Wood Elves, ugh. Kaldur knows full well that he can't block my better attacks with any magic he can perform, so he… What was it he called it? Blessing of Squid Ink? Not quite invisible and not quite intangible but enough of both to be a pain in the arse. I can't tell what else he's doing, he's still fortified.

"But Fate's here. I mean, we were only supposed to be getting information for him anyway. And shouldn't we have briefed him?"

I have sort of been wondering how much he pulls his punches during training. "Nabu knows more about magic than either of us. I'm sure he’ll be fine."

Alert! Spell Eater temperature increasing.

Because just because you've found one invisible assailant… Empathic vision's blocked, so I can't tell if they're being directly controlled or just motivated by inserted fear. "Kaldur, Garth, Tula! It's me!"

Kaldur's illusory spell fades away, revealing his location. It's a little like D&D invisibility; vigorous activity tends to make it fall apart. He's got his Water Bearers out and active but doesn't make any immediate move. Okay, positive move. "Kaldur, I think you're being influenced by Terror Thing again. Nabu's got the villagers contained-."

He brings his Water Bearers up into guard position, water ends outwards. "Webster. Not this time."

Ah fu-.

I barely see it as a circle of frost forms around us. I'm too aaagh! I don't, agh, know who Webster is, but Kaldur's brain is firing on all cylinders. I never ran into a fear projector myself, but I remember the sensation all too well. The sudden increase in alertness as the adrenaline kicks in, the mild nausea…

Alert! Spell Eater temperature increasing.

I'm not… There aren't a lot of things I'm afraid of. Not irrationally so, at any rate. Heights used to scare me, but… I've been flying everywhere. Even diving down from high up in the sky is fun when I'm in control.

Alert! Spell Eater temperature increasing.

Death scares me. The concept that my consciousness could simply cease. Oh yes, that's where I remember this feeling from. I haven't had any religious faith since I was old enough to realise that adults could be wrong about things. Even here, where I know from direct experience that souls are real and there is life after death, I've… Really been focused on extending my life, rather than…

Alert! Spell Eater temperature critical.

They're overwhelming it! Putting so much force into it… I dread to think the amount of raw power that takes. Okay, construct armour's gone. At my default resilience, any of the Atlanteans can beat me down. Why aren't they? Breathing hard, I raise my head to meet Kaldur's eyes. His tattoos are glowing just about as hard as they can, his stance... This is as much as he can do.

I hope?

"You fear."

I.. sort of.. flop around. "Beryl?"

"I couldn't feel you. I couldn't touch you. But now I can. They feared me and now I understand what I am. They understood how to connect me to you, and now I touch your soul as I do everyone else's."

Ordered yellow lights.

"Fate fears as well. He fears obsolescence. He fears failing in his duty. You can't fight what is already inside you."

I should… Say something clever. Ask it w-. What it fears. If there's anything of Siskin in there that hasn't been consumed. Instead I curl up on myself, clutching at my own face in a frantic attempt to deny the external stimuli. How can I-?

Inside.

I twist, grabbing at the box containing my personal lantern. Openopenopen!

Agent? Your mind is strange.

Join with me.

Gladly.

Ah! She's trying, I can feel a little of what we are when she and I are together, but the fear inducement effect is so intense that the snake part of us cannot comprehend it. I just about manage to stagger to our feet and face the thing possessing Beryl. Yellow, yellow and more yellow. It doesn't really want, but simply reacts to its environment. What we're talking to must just be the Siskin part. Okay, fine, but was he totally subsumed or is he still in there as a separate being? Is he just a mouthpiece, transcribing inhuman thoughts in a Human fashion, or does his mind still function?

I can see the yellow lights all around me as the assault continues. As the Ophidian, we don't precisely have fears and that's keeping it out. Perhaps I can disrupt it in the same way we reinforced Siskin? We exhale orange light into Beryl and the ordered yellow light shudders. For the briefest moment I feel normal. Kaldur glows a little less as the Terror Thing momentarily loses its connection to the Atlanteans as well. Is that it? No, they're still full of yellow. I have no idea who 'Webster' is, but… Webster. That was the name of Geotroniks' Head of Security. Would the people Geotroniks used to make it have been afraid of him? No, their notes made it clear that their paranoia had a single focus. Siskin's fear, then?

"Siskin!" We breathe out again, our exhalation passing through Beryl along her connection to the Terror Thing. There's a great deal of loss along the way; the connection is one of fear and not avarice. But we dimly perceive something at the far end, something that can still want in its own right. "I know what it's like to be consumed by an emotion! To feel at an intensity that the Human psyche wasn't designed to process! You can't win by force of will!" This would be much easier if we just had a white ring. "The only way out is to accept the sensation, no matter how-!"

"Easier said than done." Kaldur's mouth, but not his voice. "I've been trapped in this nightmare for twelve years. I've felt every fear exactly as it was felt by people paralysed by the intensity of their fears and I've felt it all the time. And the thing that I fear most has been eating my soul."

"What? Do you expect it to get better? Do you think you'll get any respite once it's finished?"

"I only hope-" I turn as Siskin switches to using Tula. "-that when it's finally finished I might finally experience oblivion. My every thought, my every feeling is one of absolute terror. Can you even begin to understand what that's like?"

"Yes. We can. The Ophidian and the Orange Lantern came to terms. I know it can be done because I did it."

"I don't believe you."

Ophidian, back in the lantern please.

Agent?

I know what I'm doing.

I reach into my armour and pull off the hot-to-the-touch Spell Eater.

Probably.

 

I don't think
it works like that

I'm running through the ruins of a burning city. Everything seems larger than it should be, and the cars are at least fifty years out of date. I can't find my house which is not really surprising, given that I live in a mountain. Siskin, you didn't live anywhere like this either. I've read your records. Did the landmines hit it?

Landmines? How would landmines hit a house? Siskin, this is a paranoiac's fantasy. Martha Tredville. There was something wrong with her brain that resulted in her fixating on the early part of her life, growing up in the Blitz. Given how old she was… Probably something to do with the onset of senile dementia.

I think perhaps Bombsite Bill lives there now.

I hear a noise off to my right, a cracking, squishing noise that doesn't so much fill me with dread as redirect the general anxiety I'm feeling towards a specific location. In classic monster film style Bombsite Bill himself tears a fur wrap free from the body of his latest victim and drapes it over his shoulder before turning to look at me in the manner of a cat watching a hamster bravely poking its head out of its ball right in front of it. He's wearing an old Prussian style helmet on his head and over the rest of him is a floral patterned dress! Okay, there's some blood and dirt on it, but he's wearing furs and a dress! He's tall, well muscled and his teeth are filed down into points and he looks like the retard out of The Goonies. That wasn't even scary when I was a child!

He shoves a crumbling wall aside, giving me a better look into the interior of the house. Corpses in varying states of dismemberment hang from the rafters while before him a large bomb stands resting on its stabilisation fins. From his belt he takes out two thigh bones, raises them up and looks at me expectantly. I raise my arms and okay, I admit that being forced to dance like this is somewhat scary-.

"You don't get it." Bombsite Bill shakes his head as he begins drumming on the bomb's casing with the bones in his hands. "You don't get it. I'm not afraid like the little girl Mrs Tredville saw herself as when Mercury took this fear from her. I'm afraid of becoming the monster." He pauses for a moment, looking at the explosive in front of him. "This doesn't even look like a real bomb. Do you really expect me to accept becoming this? A cannibal and a thief?!" He starts hammering away in earnest. "To feel that doing this is the most natural thing in the world!? You want me to embrace being this!?"

I'm forced to dance closer and closer as he brings the bones up high over his head. Puts me in mind of the first time I met Danni, pinned to a wall with her burning hand next to my face.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

I see the blast wave coming at me but at the same time it's Danni's hand and the purple of Klarion's glowing magics and it's all around me and I can't get out and it hurts and I'm burning burning burning!

Fortunately, it's not as if I've never been on fire before.

I stagger forwards through the inferno. The bodies Bombsite Bill had hung up around him are burning too, though Siskin's chosen avatar itself is unharmed.

"You're presenting this as a false dichotomy. The choice isn't between you becoming a monster and not becoming a monster. The choice is whether you become a monster that knows what it is, that holds back, or one that revels in its own nature. There's nothing inherently evil about the power of fear, any more than there is avarice. Also, this really hurts."

It's like that thing in Zebra Girl where Jack curses a serial killer to forever be in the place he least wants to be. Sure, he ended up spending ninety percent of his time in the Universe of Burning, but since it couldn't actually kill him he eventually got used to it to the point that he would rather be there than somewhere else.

"Fine. So I don't get good options. But this…" He shakes his head. "I don't think I can. I wasn't ever trained for this sort of thing…"

I reach over to one of the burning corpses, pull off a chunk of charred meat and hold it up to my nose. As expected, it doesn't really smell of anything. I open my mouth and bite down on it. It tastes.. a little of pork. I'm not sure whether that's because Human flesh really tastes of pork or because that was the idea Mrs Tredville attached to it.

"I could. Once I decide that something's necessary, I just do it."

A look distantly akin to hope appears on his face. "Could you?"

"Yes. But it's not me who has to."

"If you.. show me… If you can show me how, then I'll try. I don't know if I'll succeed… You may end up having to kill me… It, anyway."

What I went through with the Ophidian the first time certainly wasn't pleasant. At least, it wasn't at the time. If I did it now it wouldn't be a thing. Is this what Sinestro Corps members go through in the comics? The process was never really described in detail… "I'll give it a try."

Siskin nods. "Thank you. Whatever happens… Anything would be better than being stuck here."

The flames burning my body go out. I look at my left arm. Back to being my own arm, and despite being on fire for a relative minute or two it's entirely undamaged. "So how do you want to do-?"

And now my arm's gone, along with everything else. My skin… it feels rough. Uneven. I think I'm… Slithering? No. As I focus on my physical presence I become more aware of myself, of this fear's form. I open.. my eyes, eyes which cover my cankerous flesh and let me see in all directions as I burst forth from a concrete dome into a landscape of concrete buildings and chimneys. Blood, pus and lymph fluid leak from rents in my outer surface and strange veins and arteries are clearly visible across my skin. I shudder as I observe other types of tissues and organs strewn randomly across my bulk.

I'm cancer.

This is Sellafield.

Matthew Campbell's fear. He was a boy when Geotroniks took on his case. He'd lived in the vicinity of Sellafield when they were building the mixed oxide plant and his parents -his mother in particular- had filled his head full of all sorts of horror stories about the place. Their case notes state that his mother said that their neighbours died of cancer, but Geotroniks had little interest in checking up once the paranoiac symptoms manifested. The symptoms were the whole point.

I try moving, but the best I can do is a slow semi-controlled undulation. He was afraid that the cancer was going to suck out his juice, leaving him thin and dry. Perhaps he'd seen a picture of people suffering from radiation sickness? I don't seem to be cancer of anything or anyone, but nonetheless my eyes follow the dream narrative, immediately orientating on a distant house at the moment the Terror Thing's recollection of Matthew Campbell leaves the safety of his bed and peeks out at me through his window. Real Matthew was killed along with the other patients at Geotroniks, but what I'm looking at is a realisation of exactly how he felt during his episodes.

He gets a moment of horror at seeing me, then I'm moving faster, flowing over and through the buildings of the site towards him far faster than a creature like this actually could. If such a creature were actually possible. I know what's going to happen. I'm going to move towards his house. He's going to shrink away, hide in his bed. I'm going to pull the roof off and tear his sheets away, haul him up before one of my mouths and latch onto him. I'm going to suck out his blood, his very life essence, as he screams and wails.

And I'm going to have to affirm it. I'm going to have to think of it as normal, right and good while honestly believing that I'm doing this to a real child.

I need to do that to save Siskin. And probably my friends and the people of Minions as well, depending on how Nabu's doing.

I won't actually be killing anyone.

It needs to be done.

Want the ends, want the means.

 

4th March
20:09 GMT

I collapse onto the ground back in my own body, Matthew Campbell's screams still echoing in my ears. I hear two heavy steps as Beryl staggers before righting herself. Looks like… The ordered yellow structures are gone, though there's still a lot of yellow in there.

Kaldur gasps and drops his guard, the circle of frost surrounding us fading at once. "Kaldur, you alright?"

"There.. was a man…"

"Webster, Geotroniks' Head of Security, inner circle Mason and serial killer. The Terror Thing made you believe-."

His eyes widen slightly. "That he was you."

"Yep. Garth, Tula, Beryl?"

Beryl holds out her left hand in a 'one moment' gesture, bends over and enthusiastically vomits onto the road. Garth hugs his chest and strains to get his heart rate and breathing back under control. Tula's got her eyes closed and is muttering a prayer to Sedna.

"Tempest, Aquagirl, Squire. Are you functional?"

Beryl manages to look up and shakes her head. "What..? What happened to..?"

"I showed Siskin how to overcome the Terror Thing. Since you're free, I'm going to assume that he has its attention. Nabu-" Ring? "-looks like he's taken a battering, but the Terror Thing appears to be losing control of its vassals."

"Where's Rob?"

I freeze. "Bother. I-" Ring? Oh dear. "-I don't know."

"Can you return-" Kaldur takes a moment to take in the state of our colleagues. "-me to the village? I should brief Doctor Fate."

"I.. can, but I think I should pay Sephtian a visit, see if he's got the containment vessel ready."

"You said that he would require a few days."

"I'm hoping he was erring on the side of pessimism."

"Fate can most likely contain it with his power."

"Do you know what Nabu did to Onomatopoeia?"

Kaldur frowns slightly. "I do not."

"Neither does anyone else. No one's seen him since. Nor any of the people responsible for Roanoke Island. Siskin deserves our protection the same as everyone else, and unless it's that or lose containment of the situation completely I'd rather not risk him on Nabu's good will."

He nods. "Return me to the village, then go."

"Right." I tag him with a filament, then transition him to the near edge of the village. That should let him get a feel for the situation before charging in. Next step, my three other team mates get a quick burst of orange light, removing adrenaline from their bodies and carefully altering the functioning of their amygdalae to temporarily reduce their capacity for fear. Should help them get themselves back together a bit quicker, though most likely not fast enough to help with this fight. Next, I pick up the box containing my personal lantern. "Ring, zeta tube."

4th March
18:13 GMT -2

"Recognised, Orange-"

Ring, locate Sephtian and transition.

"-Lantern-."

Compliance.

And I'm floating in the water in Sephtian's office. The Professor turns as the wave of displaced water moves past me and the guards level their weapons.

"No! He's fine." They lower their weapons and at least one rolls her eyes as she recognises me. "Orange Lantern. What brings you here?"

"In a bit of a rush. Is the containment vessel ready?"

He blinks and his head shudders slightly. "No. I said a few days. And then I would want to test it."

"Oh… Dear."

"I have the.. prototype, the copy of the design you were given. Theoretically sound, but it isn't tested." Another shudder. "I.. it should work as directed. I would not want to bet your life on it."

"Superheroing is all about improperly tested prototypes. Where is it?"

"My.. workshop's dry room, but-"

Transition.

"-I fear that-" His head jerks around and he blinks again. "-the.. device may not hold up under stress. And the 'suction' mechanism you requested is entirely absent."

"We'll make do."

Sephtian's dry room is much like the one which Doctor Roquette and Dubbilex worked in while working out how to remove the Starro Tech. This was built a month or so ago for Sephtian to play around with arcane circuitry designs. Given the sensitivity of the work we're doing it had to be somewhere in which it could be kept under guard. I'm not sure how fast information propagates around Atlantean society but with this much work going on and so many students being involved it can't exactly be a state secret.

Sephtian points. "There. In the power flow analyser."

I see it. It looks like… It doesn't look like anything I can immediately call to mind. There are three dark grey rings of stone, held apart with thick metal cylinders. On the inner surface, machine drawn arcane circuit boards have been soldered into place.

I pass through the water window and walk over to it. "How resilient is it?"

"Oh, the spell system should be capable of coping with quite large strains. The physical components… Less so. I only intended to use it as a proof of concept. It really isn't anything I would recommend using in the field."

"Needs must when the devil drives." I connect a filament to it and remove it from the analytical equipment. "Where should I direct the energy flow to trigger the containment?"

"A… Magic user should be able to detect the entry point. Physically, it's slightly above the-" He points with his left hand. "-centre of the artefact."

"How will I know if it hasn't worked properly?"

"It.. will melt. Or possible explode. Or.. you'll.. be.. horribly devoured by whatever you were attempting to contain."

"Right. Thank you. I'll let you know how it goes."

"I really can't advise-"

Zeta tube back to Brighton.

"-this-"

Compliance.

"-course of-."

4th March
20:15 GMT

"Recognised, Orange-."

 

4th March
20:16 GMT

I look down at Nabu as he throws his arms wide, Kaldur standing next to him and looking like he's ready to catch him if he collapses. Golden ankhs appear for a moment on the foreheads of the now aimless Fear Zombies, then fade as-.

I send constructs downwards to catch people as they collapse. With the Terror Thing's influence gone they're back to being normal-unconscious. I take a moment to lower them to the ground then float down to stand in front of Kaldur and.. Nabu. It's not just Kaldur being over concerned, Nabu looks like he's been through the wringer. The Terror Thing was soft-peddling Kaldur with a minor fear induction to provoke him into attacking me. Against Nabu it would have been going all out.

I'll file away the fact that he can feel fear for later.

For a moment, I contemplate taking advantage of his momentary weakness. Drug Kaldur with something that would let me blame his loss of consciousness on the Terror Thing, chain Nabu up again and hit his helmet with Mageslayers until he's gone. Might work, but… No. Do the job I'm here to do. He might be useful.

"Either of you seen Cornwall Boy?"

Nabu lifts his head slightly and I shift my gaze to Kaldur. I can't stand looking into his stolen eyes. "No. Cornwall Boy was not present when I arrived."

Kaldur thinks for a moment. "Though I am uncertain how much of what I have experienced today did in fact transpire, I do not believe I have seen him since this morning."

"The ring can't detect him, but the absolute worst place for him to be-."

Nabu's eye holes glow golden. "The pagan ritual site." He pushes Kaldur away and rises unsteadily into the air. "If the fear creature has him it may attempt to use his innate connection to geomantic energy systems to escape."

"Or just have him stick a copper stake in the stones and take its chances."

"Where would he find such a thing?"

Ring, most likely..? "Copper gardening tools have made a bit of a come back in the last decade. I don't know exactly what disrupting a ley line requires-."

"It may suffice. Come, both of you."

I'm about a second from transitioning away as the ankh expands past us and Minions disappears in a surge of gold. Great, fear, exactly what I need to not be feeling at the moment. Wait, how did-? Spell Eater, I haven't put one back on after I took it off to let Siskin give me access. That was.. an unfortunate oversight. As the golden glow fails I see that he's teleported us to the top of the bank overlooking the stones. I immediately transition three metres right and pull a new Spell Eater out of subspace.

"Abomination! You will be purged from existence!"

And he's off, flying towards the largest stone circle. My empathic vision shows the whole area glowing yellow. I can't see Rob and under these conditions a ring scan wouldn't be reliable.

"What is the purpose of that object?"

I heft the containment unit. "This is the containment prototype. The idea was that we could feed the Terror Thing into it, keep it locked away where it couldn't do any harm."

"Justice League rules of engagement permit us to permanently destroy Elementals or Demons." He winces. "Having been violated by this one, I can think of no reason to change that policy."

"I got it to release the four of you by-" The air over the stones is suddenly illuminated by circular bands of golden characters, ankhs and other things I don't immediately recognise. "-communicating with the still intact spirit of one of the psychics used in its creation. He's trying to get control of it. He certainly hasn't done anything that warrants killing him."

"But if his body has already been destroyed…"

"That doesn't stop Nabu. Heck, we know that the Terror Thing can interact with the world without using a host, that's what it's been doing for the last twelve years."

"What do you suggest?"

"Any idea what Nabu's doing?"

Kaldur peers at the runic circles. "He appears to be attempting to scour every remnant of the Terror Thing from the surrounding area. It is likely that once he is done, he will attack it directly in the ley line network. If you wish to persuade him to use another method, it would be best to hurry."

Or… I could let him believe that his technique worked and keep Siskin's survival a secret. He must know that I'm working on arcane weaponry. He's never really shown any interest… "Any idea where Rob is?"

Kaldur raises his Water Bearers slightly, allowing a small amount of water to flow. The trail of water bends slightly to the left and he starts down the slope. "This way."

Dowsing. That's a new one. Following local geomantic energy flows, presumably. Is Sephtian going to have time to come up with a device that lets people who aren't magic users perceive those? Could be useful… No, he's probably not. I need to find another competent non-evil magic user who I can offload some of that stuff onto.

We get about half way from the bottom of the slope to the middle stone circle before the water coming from the Water Bearers shudders. Kaldur stops and expands the water flow in case Rob isn't entirely himself. "Cornwall Boy! Are you here?!"

"How do I know you're really you?"

"Because Nabu brought us here and he wouldn't have done that if we were being controlled."

"What if he's being controlled?"

"Then we're doomed anyway, so why worry?" There's a pause, then Rob is ejected from the ground next to us. There's more than a little yellow in him, but it looks normal in character.

"Why were you under the ground?"

"I was hiding. Way I see it, it's not interested in space as much as conceptual connections. I thought maybe if I got here I could try draining it at the source." He shakes his head dejectedly. "Don't think I was really getting anywhere."

"How were you able to avoid being taken as the rest of us were?"

He holds up the Spell Eater I gave him. "I drained it to protect myself faster than it absorbed magic protecting me. Up until a few seconds ago when the bastard thing came right back here, then all I could do was try hiding. What's the plan?"

I hold up the containment vessel. "Any idea how to force it into here?"

"Um. I…" He looks away for a moment. "Maybe… If we connected it to the ley lines? If Doctor Fate's just going to blast it-" The runic pattern over the southern circle fades away. "-then it'll run into the only escape path available, right?"

"Okay… And it can't use that connection to get right back out afterwards?"

"We could destroy the circle." I raise my eyebrows. "I don't like it, but one circle more or less isn't gunna make much difference to the country's geomantic stability."

"Kaldur?"

"What of Siskin?"

"Whether he wins or not, keeping it contained is the best option in the short term. We can study what it is.. and whether he won or not, somewhere safe. Where we're in control of what it can get access to."

Kaldur nods. "One of the secure laboratories in the Conservatory of Sorcery."

"Yes. If they're okay about me summoning Demons there…"

"I would rather ask Fate, but-" We all look up as the northern runic circle goes out and Nabu begins building power. His floating becomes unsteady as the strain starts to show. "-he needs to focus on his task. Do it."

 

4th March
20:19 GMT

Rob nods. "Okay." Kaldur and I watch him for a moment. "Um. How?"

Kaldur and I look at each other for a moment. "I suppose you'd.. create an arcane link between the local ley lines and the containment vessel."

"Yeah, I got that. But, like… How? I mean, I don't think I could take the bloody thing going through me."

Then I remember that I'm talking to an inadequately trained fourteen year old and not a professional magic user. And from the looks of things Kaldur's reached the same realisation. Ooh dear. "Could you create a bridge that didn't directly put you in the path of the thing?"

Rob throws his arms up. "Maybe? I don't bloody know!"

"Cornwall Boy. If you do not believe you are capable of doing this, you need merely say so. After so much time has passed, saving Mister Siskin would-."

"No." Rob closes his eyes. "Sorry. Give me a moment." He takes a couple of deep breaths. "Right, I can sort of feel the entry point to the trap. If I put a little magic… Yeah, okay, got that bit." He opens his eyes and turns to the standing stones just as Nabu's runes contract, glowing more brilliantly. "That might be a bit more difficult."

"Okay. Don't rush. What do you think you need?"

He blinks, his eyes unfocused. "Fate's sealing off the stones, and the centre of the ley line system the Terror Thing's hiding in. And that means I just can't get at it. I mean, that's why he's doing it, to stop any bit of it getting out."

"Is there any way around what he is doing?"

"I don't… Uuuum…" He tries to think of something. "I think he's using the limits of the core of the ley line system as a guideline for his spell. So… Unless we can-." I take a copper stake out of subspace. "Oh. Yeah. That would work." He thinks some more. "Except -assuming that Mercury woman was right- I'd still have no way of knowing where the new connections were going to go."

"I may be able to force them to go in a particular direction." Kaldur thinks for a moment. "But it would only be for a matter of moments. We would have to time its release to the instant."

"Anything I can do?"

Kaldur looks at me. "It would be nice to have some assurance that Siskin still existed at all."

"Slap me if I take more than ten seconds." I focus on the empathic energies within the ley line network. Yellow, yellow and more yellow. I'm not really sure which bits are whom. Nabu's spell is sort of scrunching it up-. No, wait. There. The patterns are changing. Rather than being a peer-to-peer network, some parts of the ordered structure are shifting, moving to orientate themselves towards…

A bit that isn't wholly yello-. Ow!

"Ten seconds, mate."

I tense and relax the muscles of my right cheek. "I'm reasonably confident he's still in there. He appears to be making progress, though it's far too early to say that he's winning."

"Wouldn't it be better to just ask Fate to stop for a bit?"

I look up at the glowing figure floating above the centre of the middle circle. "Does he look like the 'stopping for a bit' type?"

"No, but…"

I take a few steps away and cup my right hand next to my mouth. "Nabu, we've had an idea! If you-!"

"Your part in this is done!" He doesn't even look around. "Leave this matter in the hands of Fate!"

I turn away. "Oh well."

"Yeah, but… Was that an order?"

"He doesn't actually have the authority to give us orders. Only Batman does, and we don't have the time to explain things in full to him. Which means…" I look at Kaldur. "It's up to you as team leader. We can take a chance on trapping it, and maybe saving Siskin in the process. Or we might cause the Terror Thing to escape. Alternately, we take no action and Nabu kills it for sure. Whatever you say, goes."

"Fate seems adamant that he does not want us to involve ourselves."

"He doesn't know about Siskin. And frankly, I'm not sure he'd care."

He looks down. "Is there anything that you can do to improve our chances of success?"

"I can.. probably pull it in the direction of the trap with orange light. It's not reliable, though. If Siskin doesn't have enough of it integrated into him… I.. can also create whatever focusing patterns you want to the ground, though I can't power them."

Kaldur nods. "This is not a simple choice. I…" He nods. "We will make the attempt. Orange Lantern, use the design-"

Fate raises his hands above his head and a huge golden ankh forms in the air before him. "Die, creature of nightmares!"

I'm moving towards the closest stone, stake and auto-hammer construct at the ready.

"-from Priscus' Spirits and Bindings!"

"I know it!" In an attempt to keep Nabu from spotting it I run the design under the soil as I strike the stone with the copper stake. I create an orange super sharp construct around it and bring the auto-hammer to bear. The hard rock resists for a moment, then fails before my magic hammer. Once it's got a decent way in I remove the construct surrounding the stake and stand back slightly. Focus. Okay, that's Siskin. I'm not sure if he's even aware of-. Nabu slams the ankh into the ground and the whole emotional network within the ley lines convulses. Okay, yep, he's aware.

"The lines're getting weaker! Making a connection.. now!"

Kaldur kneels and places his hands onto the ground, his tattoos glowing as he exerts himself. I try reaching out with orange light to pull Siskin in the desired direction but I'm struggling to find purchase with all of that yellow around! Okay, maybe… I attach a filament to the containment unit and feel as it begins pulling on the orange light. I spread the other end out, waving it around the inside of the ley line system.

Best I can do.

Golden lightning rains down into the ankh from Nabu, causing it to blaze brighter and shove itself further into the ground. I also see parts of the Terror Thing start decaying into nothingness, something I assume is Nabu's doing. I think it's noticed that the containment isn't as sure as it was. It's writhing now, churning and ugh, I'm starting to feel it.

Rob's eyes widen. "I think it's coming."

"It will be brief. You are strong enough to manage."

And with the texture of congealed sick being poured from a bucket, the Terror Thing flows -or rather gloops- out of the ley line network. I see… I think I see it trying to spread out in all directions once more, before noticing our channel. I pull, trying to drag at any scrap of orange I can see.

"I will be your end, creature!"

The golden ankh sinks fully into the ground and I see large chunks of the Terror Thing simply disappear. With only one place to go in order to escape certain destruction the rest leaps for the containment vessel.

"Augh!" I look around in concern, but Rob shakes his head. "It went past me. But that was…"

Everything I hooked any orange onto is now out of the ley line. I cut the orange connection just as the ground in the core of the circle shines brilliant gold and what's left of the yellow within vanishes.

 

5th March
10:36 GMT -5

"…you thought it was sensible to isolate yourself for an entire day following your first contact with the Terror Thing?"

We're arranged in a line in front of Batman. Feedback so far has been… Reasonably good. I got a nod when I realised out loud that I needed to create some sort of magic defence artefact that magic users could wear without interfering with their abilities.

"Mostly, because it hadn't demonstrated any sort of reaction to prior contact, either by my team mates or earlier by Captain Cornwall. The worst Aqualad, Tempest, Aquagirl and Cornwall Boy got was the same nightmares that everyone else was already receiving. Waiting a day to check might have been helpful, but equally it might have given it the chance it needed to strengthen its connection to a group of magic users. The type of contact I was making… I don't know of any other examples of what I tried, but -based on records of similar forms of magic- I believe that it was less intrusive than the simple dive we'd attempted the day before."

Batman nods. "Do you think that its change in behavior to an overt attack was related to your attempt to contact Michael Siskin?"

Correlation does not equal causation… "Having compared the timeline of the start of the hallucinations-" It seems that things started getting pretty weird around midday as the Terror Thing began exerting its influence over the waking world. "-to what I would have been saying about that time, I couldn't see any obvious causal remark. Of course, that's assuming that time was moving at an even pace." I shake my head. "I don't think that there's any way to tell for certain."

He nods again and takes a step back, taking in the entire line up. "I have one final question for the team. Why did you decide not to inform Doctor Fate that your extraction attempt was successful?"

I go to open my mouth, but Kaldur gets in first. "At the time, we were uncertain exactly what it was that we had. Orange Lantern also raised.. certain concerns, relating to Doctor Fate's treatment of those he has taken into custody on prior occasions."

Rob nods. "Orange Lantern tried telling him what we were going to do right before we did it. Doctor Fate wasn't listening."

Batman's eyes linger on me for a moment, before moving back to Kaldur. "The British government has asked that we pass on their thanks for dealing with this matter without anyone coming to serious lasting harm. Though it is unfortunate that the mission changed from observation to combat when it did, I do not believe there were any signs of that risk that you could have been expected to notice."

Rob takes a half step forward. "Sir, did-?"

"Doctor Fate and I will carry out a follow up investigation into the events of twelve years ago personally. Once I know enough to form firm conclusions, the results will be forwarded to our contact in the British government with my recommendation. Based on what I've seen so far, I think it likely that I will recommend that he be released."

"Thank you, sir."

"I assume that the containment vessel containing Michael Siskin is in a secure location?"

"Sephtian's got it in a secure laboratory. There are alarms, wards and a constant guard presence. We.. hope to be able to get a better look at what we caught in a couple of weeks."

"I'll look forward to your follow-up report." His eyes move down the line once more. "Dismissed."

We remain exactly where we are as he turns away and heads in the direction of the zeta tube. Training… With the six of us gone, nothing really got planned. If anything, the general assumption in the mountain was that Plastic Man -this week's supervisor- would be driving the rest of them up today. No one exactly seems to be upset about missing out, not when Tula and Rob finished describing what having a Fear Elemental sitting in your soul felt like.

"Recognised, Batman, zero two."

And with that, the Bat-tension is gone and we start to form a huddle.

Beryl looks thoughtful. "Sort of expected him to be scarier than that."

Garth makes a wry smile. "Given what we just went through, I would not be surprised if our ability to respond to normal levels of fear has become a little maladjusted." He looks at me. "Does Professor Sephtian want us there when he starts working with Mister Siskin?"

I shake my head. "I don't think he'd mind, but things have grown a bit. It's not just him and the students anymore… Which makes sense, because it was starting to get a bit silly. There're five professional thaumaturgists on the team… I haven't been properly introduced yet, but they'll be leading the work on moving production to a properly industrial scale so Sephtian can focus on the design work and teaching."

Tula nods. "I would be quite happy not to see Mister Siskin again for quite some time."

Kaldur frowns slightly. "I do not understand why Mister Constantine did not follow up on the matter earlier. If he knew that the Terror Thing might have survived, it seems that it would have been prudent to alert the authorities."

I make a shrugging motion with my right hand. "Ninety nine was Batman's first year on the job, so there wasn't a Justice League. He wasn't on speaking terms with Mister Zatara, he knew that the conspirators were involved at the highest levels of the government… Who was he going to report to?"

"I suppose that that is true."

"Not to excuse him or anything. He.. isn't a professional. Doesn't keep good records, doesn't do follow up… The number of times he's mentioned something in a completely off-hand way…" I shake my head. "Did I ever tell you that he once fought a wizard who'd transferred his soul into a Dog?"

Beryl frowns. "Some sort of Hellhound?"

"No. Just a normal Dog. He could use his remaining magic to cause other Dogs to obey him and so he could speak… Sort of. But that was it. He had the proportional strength and speed.. of a Dog. Of course, his pack nearly ripped John apart anyway."

Tula smiles. "Suddenly he sounds a lot less imposing."

Rob squints. "Can we get back to how the entire British government is full of Demon worshipping fascists?" His eyes open and he looks at Beryl then at me. "Did you, like, know that already?"

"I don't know how widespread it is. One of my uncles was a Mason and I don't think he would have been involved in anything like that. John said that the actual problematic ones were a small group, and the rest were probably just acting out of 'club loyalty'."

Kaldur nods. "In any case, Batman and Doctor Fate are better placed to perform an investigation than we are."

"Batman's own version of the Tarkin Doctrine."

Tula and Garth glance at each other, then Garth looks at me. "I do not know what that means."

Beryl tries to follow my train of thought. "Grand Moff Tarkin was a character in the film Star Wars. The Tarkin Doctrine was his belief that the Empire could keep the galaxy in line using the fear of massive retaliation."

I nod. "When Batman started in Gotham, the police force and government were massively corrupt. Now, they're… Well, significantly less so. Not because everyone got arrested, that would just have caused everything to break down. No. He went after the worst offenders, the ones who thought they were immune to any retaliation. By taking them down, he showed that no one was safe. The result? Petty corruption dropped to nearly nothing, because no one wanted to risk drawing his attention. Now, Gotham's not a great place to live, but it isn't much more corrupt than other places and it's getting better all the time." I make a shrugging gesture with my hands. "I'm not Nabu's biggest fan, but if I was an evil wizard he'd scare the shit out of me."

There's a moment of silence.

Kaldur turns to Beryl. "Do you desire to join the team on a permanent basis?"

She looks at him incredulously. "After the last couple of days?" She grins. "Of course I do."

 

7th March 2011
17:06 GMT -5

"So… How come you're not wearing an orange jump suit?"

Zatanna looks a little uncomfortable on the other side of the partition between the prisoners -like myself- and those visiting them. Still, I do appreciate the company. Oh, the other prisoners are nice enough… And so are the guards, actually. I seem to remember from the comics that the Warden of Iron Heights was pretty fanatical about keeping metahumans inside, going so far as to drug Ms Baez in order to prevent her interacting with her legal representative. All I got was a quick 'you're not going to make any trouble, are you?' speech. Didn't even try and put a collar on me. Okay, sure, I'd just demonstrated on worldwide television that they didn't work on me, but that wouldn't have stopped some people. Anyway, I'm getting on fine with everyone, but I do feel the pull of familiar faces and I imagine that my friends are keeping an eye on their mentors' responses.

"They didn't actually have one that would fit." I shrug. "I also agreed to assist prison staff in the event of a break out. My cell is just inside the metahuman containment wing and they don't even bother locking the door."

"That.. doesn't really sound like you're in prison at all."

"And? Zatanna, I'm getting fan mail. In several cases, from national governments. Here." I pick up a couple of thank you letters from my side of the table and hold them up against the screen. "This one's from China, Russia, Montenegro for some reason… There's several bags from various people that I haven't gotten around to opening yet." I frown, tapping my right fist against my chin. "I suppose this is the first time since getting to this planet that I've actually had a postal address… Anyway, since I pretty much put myself here no one really believes that I'm going to abscond."

"But you did abscond."

"I explained that. To Diana. Parallel universe Batman. Dire necessity. A great time was had by all.. who weren't.. Thanagarians or.. working for SHADE." I take a look at my left hand. Considering the injuries I received it really is remarkable quite how swiftly I've healed up. Some patches of my skin aren't quite back to normal yet, but nothing actually hurts anymore and none of it impedes my movement. "And I came right back as soon as I was well enough." I watch her for a moment. "So… How are things with you?"

"One of my closest friends is in prison."

"I told you Kayla was a bad influence." I nod to myself. "Too much eye shadow."

"Grayven, this isn't funny. What if Batman kicks you off-." She cuts herself off and glances around. "-from.. the League."

"That's fine. I mean, it'll be a little awkward. I'll have to find somewhere else to live, but… If that's the price for killing Klarion, then that's fine." I look her directly in the eyes. "Does Giovanni know that you're here?"

She hesitates. "Y-es."

"And he's okay with that?"

She exhales. "He doesn't disagree with what you did, just the way you went about it. The League… They don't all think you were wrong."

"I'd have called Captain Atom a hypocrite if he did."

"Why are you so intent on pushing them away?"

So I can join the Light in a believable way. I'm not sure whether it was sitting in a cell for hours each day, my exposure to the Anti-Life or just getting Klarion out of my system, but I'm really struggling to remember the reasons why I thought that working with them might be a good idea in its own right. But I can't tell Zatanna that, or it would ruin the whole thing. "There was… Before I came to this Earth, there was a comic I read. It was called The Boys. There was one.. scene in it, where an officer in the United States army during the Second World War was introduced to their first superheroes. When he talked about it later, he said that while modern people grow up surrounded by superheroes and so are used to the whole thing, all he could think at the time was 'why the hell are you dressed like that?'. There are.. assumptions, that the League goes along with, even when they shouldn't. About what superheroes do, and what they don't do. I need to confront these ideas, or they'll just.. stay."

"I've actually got a paper to write on what you did."

I blink. "Really?"

She looks away for a moment "There was a choice of topics, but since I.. know you it seemed to make sense."

"What's the title?"

"'Is it ever appropriate to murder someone?'"

"Ooh, leading question." I consider for a moment. "Your school: are the teachers all Catholic, or does it just have a Catholic ethos?"

"All.. Catholic, I think."

"Okay, firstly, we need to agree on a definition of 'murder'."

"Intentionally killing someone who wasn't trying to kill you."

I cup my hands to my mouth. "Arrest the army!"

She rolls her eyes. "Wars don't count."

"Why not? Why is killing special when a country decides to do it?"

"Because their job is to keep their country's people safe. You can't ask people to do that and then arrest them for it."

"So it's okay to kill someone if you're keeping a group of people safe. But what if the enemy -whoever they are- are doing that too? If the people threatening your people are only doing so because you're threatening their people? Is no one a murderer? Is everyone? What if they were a private security force rather than a government backed military?" I shake my head. "No. Murder is about societal norms, not about killing, intentionally or not. Soldiers can get arrested for killing their enemies if they don't follow proper processes. American householders can kill in self defence, and some states have fairly generous definitions thereof. In some places a person can be killed for climbing over a fence if they end up on private property."

"Even if that's true, we have laws which define what murder is."

"Right. So the question becomes: is it ever alright to deviate from society's rules on when it is appropriate to kill? I suppose that does make me an interesting example. Clearly-" I wave the thank you notes again. "-a great many people think I was correct. So, second part: was what I did murder? I'm not a country-." I cut myself off as I think about that a little more. "Aah. Under Apokoliptian law, as Suzerain of Earth, it's perfectly fine for me to kill anyone who displeases me, but let's leave that aside for a moment. I'm not a country, so I can't declare war. I am not a member of an armed force who could be ordered to kill someone as part of a 'peacekeeping' activity." I lean forwards, grinning. "As an Apokoliptian, I love that name for it. If I ever take over Apokolips, I'm going to rebrand the Parademons as 'Peacekeepers'." I sit back. "I am not a member of a police force, so I can't kill someone who violently resists arrest."

"On Earth, murder usually means premeditation, intent and a fatality. When I killed Klarion, he wasn't specifically threatening me at the time. He may not even have been actively threatening anyone. I'm not insane and I wasn't intoxicated. I intentionally lured him to a place and attacked him without waiting to see how he reacted." I count on my fingers. "Premeditation, intent, corpse. It was murder."

"Third part, was I right to do it? Mmn, you can argue that however you like. But I suggest, challenging your teacher's preconceptions. Can I assume from the title that they aren't a fan?"

"No. He doesn't have a problem with most superheroes, but he thinks that punishment should be handled by the courts."

"Alright. Find an act of killing that he thinks was morally correct but which to the modern mind appears utterly abhorrent when considered rationally."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Moses. The Israelites' escape from Kahndaq. I'm going to assume that he wouldn't regard what he did as murder."

"The Israelites were being held as slaves. And I don't particularly want to argue with God about when killing is right."

"Right. No one does. Makes Father's job much easier. Look, I don't personally believe that any of that story really happened. And if it did, I doubt that it happened anything like the way the Bible describes it. Just treat it as a parable. 'Worship Jehovah, he's always got your back'." She nods. "What I want to talk about is the tenth plague. The one which killed the firstborn children. Now, it is most likely true to say that they benefited from the Israelites' servitude, but they can't honestly be said to have been active participants. Worse, only the Israelite households were spared. Nubian slaves, Babylonian slaves, wherever else they were from? Killed. Plus, in other chapters the Old Testament clearly states that the Israelites owned slaves themselves at various times, so it can't have been about slavery in itself."

I remember singing hymns about the event in primary school. Horrible, really. I mean, I was too young to know any better, but still.

"Let's assume that the deity in question had only finite power, because otherwise you get bogged down into arguments about why he didn't just teleport his people to safety. If an Angel can know to kill only the children at houses not marked in a particular way, it seems reasonable to me that it could know to kill only at certain houses. Moses' followers could have.. say, marked the homes of the slave drivers. Jehovah chose not to use that technique. He intentionally marked innocent children for death in order to shock other people. How do you feel about the story now?"

"I suppose." She shakes her head. "To be honest, quite a lot of the Old Testament is like that. I usually assume that the people recording it at the time either didn’t understand what was happening or it got lost in translation."

Convenient. "Then contrast the event to my killing of Klarion. Klarion was a mass murderer in his own right, and had shown every intention of continuing in the same vein. I had no way to stop him other than killing him and I surrendered myself for judgement immediately afterwards."

She sits back. "Are you really saying that you're more moral than God?"

"No. Of course not. I'm saying I'm more moral than Elion, or whatever powerful but finite being we're using as Jehovah's stand in. Clearly, Jehovah can do no wrong. After all, he said so himself."

Zatanna regards me levelly for a moment. "I.. might.. edit that slightly."

 

10th March 2011
08:16 GMT -5

"Are you sure this is how you want to play this?" Frederick Tuckman -my lawyer- sighs as he looks at me. "There are other options we could explore."

We're standing in a circle of armed police, just outside the courtroom where my fate will be decided. The police are mostly just there to keep journalists and my more enthusiastic fans at bay, but I do appreciate that Central City has thought to equip them with weapons that could hurt me. Eventually. Alright, so it would be a bit like when lasers were first invented: the press tried calling them 'Death Rays' and the inventor said that yes, you could vaporise someone with one as long as they didn't move for a couple of years.

I shake my head. "I don't want to be that guy. Not after all the fuss I've made."

"You are aware that Missouri has the death penalty for murder?"

"By gas or lethal injection. I only breathe out of habit and they don't have a poison powerful enough to affect me."

An usher emerges from the courtroom and nods to the leader of my detail. She motions two of her subordinates forwards into the courtroom and then looks over to me. I smile, give her a respectful nod, then follow them in. The courtroom itself is.. pretty much what I expected. A box for the jury on one side, a raised bench for the judge at the front with an American flag as a backdrop and a position lower down for the clerical officer, a box for me, defence, prosecution… The audience are quiet, but cameras click and camera phones are raised to capture my likeness. A few people I recognise. None of my friends, of course. They've got school and in Jade's case would probably be arrested. There are a couple of diplomats, however. China sent an envoy, who's looking at me with a notable lack of expression. A few other countries… No Alan. Thought he might come, but I'm well aware of the ructions this is creating in the American superhero community and wasn't banking on it. Clark Kent's here for the Planet.

No one's here for Klarion.

I don't wave. I'm well aware that I'm making a mockery of the judicial system here, and the people involved are both serious and basically decent. They don't deserve me making fun of them to their faces. So, I head to the box where I'll be spending the duration of the proceedings with no more than a polite smile, while Mister Tuckman walks over to the seat reserved for the defence lawyer. The state prosecutor pulls a slightly odd face as he takes the opportunity to look me over. I had thought that they might get in someone too new at the job to know the sort of damage they could be doing to their career, but this man seems to be in his middle years. Mister Tuckman has told them of my intent, so maybe they didn't think it was much of a risk?

This chair… Yes, there's no way that will support my weight. Kneel down or have the aero-discs take the strain? The second would look better, but it would also clearly indicate that I'm holding on to equipment that I shouldn't really have. Well, this isn't going to take long. Maybe I should just see if they'll let me stand for the whole thing.

Alright, looks like everyone's in place. Just waiting for-.

"All rise." Everyone does as the trial judge enters and takes position while the clerk's eyes dip to their paperwork for a moment. "The Central City Superior Court is now in session, the Honorable Justin Micklewhite presiding. The case being heard is The People of the State of Missouri versus Grayven." She doesn't hesitate as she gets to my name. I suppose that living around here she's probably heard stranger. "Please be seated."

Everyone sits down. I hesitate for a moment, then nudge my chair backwards with my right foot and kneel down instead. The Honourable Mister Micklewhite takes a moment to get comfortable, his eyes moving from myself to Mister Tuckman. "I will be frank. I dislike having my courtroom used for what I strongly suspect to be political posturing. I do not want to see any of the usual disruption we see during costume trials."

Mister Tuckman stands and leans into the microphone. "My client has no wish to create any such disruption."

"Any further disruption." The Honourable Mister Micklewhite seems at least a little mollified. "Has your client decided on what plea he would like to enter?"

"My client wishes to plead guilty to the charge of First-Degree Murder."

No intake of breath. No one's really surprised.

"And the other charges?"

"My client feels that the charges relating to his possession of exotic weaponry are 'reaching' at best. Missouri has no specific prohibition on the possession of 'death rays', and his 'blasters' are not strictly speaking plasma weapons. In addition, since he was well outside of city limits at the time the alleged attack took place, charging him with brandishing a blade-."

The Honourable Mister Micklewhite waves his gavel to stop him. "Does the prosecution wish to comment?"

Mister Tuckman sits and the prosecutor stands. "At the time the charges were filed, the District Attorney's Office had not been fully briefed on the nature of Mister Grayven's weapons. We apologise to the Court, but we needed to get specialists in to explain it to us. Under the circumstances… Well, we're going to be looking at recommending that the law be altered, but we're willing to accept that it would not be worth the Court's time to try it, particularly given that the defendant is already looking at a life sentence for the First-Degree Murder charge."

"Very well. The Court will consider the lesser charges struck, and formally record a plea of 'Guilty' for the First-Degree Murder charge." The prosecutor sits as the judge turns his attention to the jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for your time. You are dismissed. The bailiff will show you out."

I watch them go. This is interesting, actually. I've never seen a real life court case before. You’d think -given the stuff I've been involved with- that I'd be in and out all the time, but no. It's either been too secret or I've just provided a written statement.

"The Court will now move to sentencing. Does the defense have anything..?" He looks down at his paperwork. "Anything sensible it wishes to say in moderation?"

Mister Tuckman stands again. "The defense would like to remind the Court that the victim 'Klarion the Witch Boy' was an international fugitive and mass murderer. The very fact that no one is here in court to represent him today should give the Court some idea of how little he is missed. My client has repeatedly stated to me that he feels not the slightest bit of remorse over the killing, and would gladly do it again if the situation arose again." He looks at me for a moment out of the corner of his eyes, then sits.

The Honourable Mister Micklewhite nods. "Prosecution?"

The prosecutor stands again. "I would like to remind the Court that it is not for private citizens to decide how to enforce the law. But, since the minimum sentence for First-Degree Murder is life imprisonment and the State has no desire to seek the death penalty, we see no need for extended arguments." He sits.

The Honourable Mister Micklewhite waits for a moment. "Very well. If there are no further arguments?" Both lawyers give a slight shake of their heads. "Then the Central City Superior Court sentences the defendant to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole." He bangs his gavel.

"All rise."

I was expecting this. I'll probably take a few days-.

"Hold on a minute." I look around as-. That's… Hailey Becket, Missouri's current governor. She's literally just walked into the courtroom, trailed by television cameras. Oh, the judge isn't going to like this.

He doesn't. "Governor, you couldn't wait a few hours?"

"Imprisonment is expensive, and I see no good reason to keep Mister Grayven detained any longer." She nods forwards and a man in a suit carrying a wodge of paperwork comes to the front of the court. "I signed the pardon out in the hallway just as soon as your hammer came down." The man in the suit passes it over to the clerk of the court, who looks upwards at the judge and shrugs. "I would like to request his immediate-."

"Just.. get him out of here."

She looks over to me. "Mister Grayven! You've got a press conference."

I hesitate for a moment. That wasn't the plan. Is she trying to steal credit from President Horne or something? The armed police around me shuffle away slightly. I.. guess that means that I can go. I stand, then pause. "Thank you, your Honour. I'm.. sorry about this." He rolls his eyes as I walk out from around the defendant's box and stride in the direction of the governor, risking a small smile and an even smaller shrug in Kal-El's direction. His expression doesn't change.

Governor Becket waits until I'm just in front of her before holding out her right hand. "Hope you don't mind me springing this on you."

I carefully take her hand and pause for the pictures. "Not at all, Governor. I appreciate your timeliness."

"Okay, that should do it." I release my grip and she leads the way towards the exit. "No one's expecting the Gettysburg Address, but try and have something to say when we get out there."

"I'm sure I'll manage, Governor. If I may ask?" She glances back for a moment and nods. "I mean no offence, but I was rather under the impression that I would be receiving a Presidential pardon."

"You know, I took the actual phone call and I can still barely believe that Horne had the balls for this." She looks back again as we head towards the exit onto the street. "Murder's a State crime, Mister Grayven. The President pardons Federal crimes."

Whoops. Might need to.. bone up on the American legal system.

I nod. "So next time I kill them in DC. Got it."

 

10th March 2011

Freedom.

I deactivate my visual enhancements and take in the sheer blackness around me.

Behind me the sun of Earth is barely distinguishable from the rest of the starscape. I left planets behind almost one hundred thousand astronomical units ago. Technically I'm at the edge of the system's Oort Cloud, the furthest Sol's gravity meaningfully attracts foreign objects. Usually, this region is depicted as a dense cloud. As with 'asteroid thickets' this is complete nonsense. I wave my right hand in front of my face and watch as the yellow glow completely fails to pick out even the smallest mote of dust floating in the emptiness. No, this is only 'dusty' compared to a pure vacuum.

Although that's not to say this particular bit hasn't seen something of interest.

I reach out with my left hand and call the techno-seed over to float in front of me. Scan. Father Box?

Ploong.

Inert. Depowered. But still useful. Subspace it. I have no use for a Brimstone -unless I particularly need to take the drudgery out of mass destruction- but the computer system which generates its mind will certainly be useful. The energy siphon? Hm, maybe.

I'm rather glad that the pardon covered me getting my stuff back. And amused to find that it does nothing to change my record. I've sent the surviving drones back to my Ceres facility. I strongly suspect that I'm going to need to do quite a bit of work on the place in the not too distant future. I'll need a new hush tube, and something to power it with. Worse, I am going to need to cut back on the orange ring use for the foreseeable future and I'm not sure how-.

Corpsman, I am beginning to think that you have an unfortunate fondness for dramatic gestures.

Oh, come now Sinestro. Can you imagine the look on Jordan's face?

In Universe Fifty Colonel Harold Jordan is a pilot in the American air force. I never met him and he never became a Green Lantern. Still, I would not be entirely displeased to observe the faces of whoever the local Green Lanterns are when they see this ring.

And not our version of Sinestro?

No.

I wait for a moment, but nothing else is forthcoming. Alright, think I'm about done here… Sinestro, zeta tube to the mountain.

It seems that your account has been cancelled. Would you like me to force a connection?

I smile. No, that's fine. I slide the yellow ring from my right forefinger and place it inside one of my armour's pouches. Father Box, boom tube.

10th March 2011
16:17 GMT -5

"…gunna… Walk in here." I float down onto the ground inside the mountain's kitchen and nod at my team mates sitting at the table. "Like nothing happened." Wallace slumps slightly as my presence contradicts him. "Hey Grayven."

"Afternoon Wallace. M'gann, Kon, Match, Mister Tawny, Ixy-."

**Hello Grayven! How was your murder?**

"Pretty good, thank you." I stroll over to the fridge and open it. "Zatanna, do you have a minute?"

She straightens slightly. Ugh, I'm gone for a week and everyone's forgotten how to keep a fridge stocked. "Um, yes? But are you supposed to be here? You did get.. convicted of murder."

"I'm a murderer, yes. Convicted? I think that implies the prosecution actually had to make an effort." I close the fridge. "Where's Kaldur? I wanted to talk to him about-."

M'gann stands. "He's on assignment in England with Tempest, Aquagirl and Celestial Archer."

"Oh. Whereabouts? I really want to-."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

I can? Ohh. "Oh, congratulations." Let's see. The mountain's systems should have registered me almost immediately, that sends a message to the Batcave and the Watchtower… They must know that they'd need Scott's help if they wanted to boom-proof this place… "Short version: I'm quitting the team to pursue my own projects. Wish you all the best but relations between myself and the League have deteriorated to the point-"

Warning: Will detected.

Where? Ah, thank you. "-where I don't think that further collaboration is practical. I'll send everyone contact details when I've decided where I'm going to live." The ring shows me Jordan, Nathaniel and Diana enter the mountain through the hangar zeta tube. "Obviously, I'll still be doing check-ups on everyone who's gone through the Awakening and I can be available at short notice if you actually need me for anything."

Kon nods, looking downcast. Match looks a little surprised before glancing at Wallace, who doesn't. Zatanna looks more puzzled. "I didn't think you could quit."

"Oh, let's be honest: it's not like they're going to want me around you-" The door from the hangar opens and the League members come through, Diana first. "-guys." I turn to face them. "No Batman? Do I have to give him my resignation in person, or will you pass it on?"

Nathaniel looks a little uncomfortable, inasmuch as I can read his body language while his skin is silver. He's the one I'd expect to have least problem with what I did. Jordan's ring is set to medium-glow and he's consciously reinforcing his environmental shield. He's never really been happy about me being here, wrong colour ring and all. Revealing what the Guardians did to the Martians just put the icing on the cake. Diana looks a little distant. I'm going to assume that she's got over her anger by now and is just… What, disappointed? No, saddened by the whole situation.

She makes eye contact with me and I smile politely. "Grayven, you're not resigning. You're going to stay here in the mountain. You're not going to leave unless you are directly supervised by a League member."

"I'm not sure that's a good-."

"That is an order."

I wait a moment to make sure that she's finished.



I jerk my head towards her and spread my arms out to the sides. "NO!" There's a small reaction from my audience. Surprise, and just a little… Hm. I straighten up, cocking my head to the side as if listening for something. "And listen to that."

"Listen to what?"

"The sound, Lantern Jordan, of giant scorpions not rushing here to kill me." I give Diana a slightly wider smile. "Did you really think I'd put myself back under your authority?"

"You swore an oath."

"Yes. Fortunately, it had an escape clause." Diana's face visibly falls as she realises what I've done. "I gave Alan his lantern back half an hour ago. Now I'm a free agent again. And let's not mess around here; it was always a bit weird having a thirty year old man on the youth team." My eyes pass over the faces of the League members. "Anything else?"

There's no immediate response, so I turn away. Right, it shouldn't take long to pick up my-.

"You can tell me how you think your friends in the Light are going to react when they find out you can't recharge your power ring anymore. Exactly how happy do you think they'll be to have you on board when you can't fulfill your end of the bargain?"

Hm. Shall I?



Go ahead, Corpsman.

I spin on my heel, eyes glowing and yellow ring on my right forefinger, fist thrust in the Leaguers' direction.

Jordan's eyes widen.

"In blackest day or brightest night,
Beware your fears made into light,
Let those who try and stop what's right,
Burn with my power, Prince Grayven's might!"

My yellow lantern emerges from its subspace pocket for a moment, a yellow beam briefly connecting it to my ring.

"Recharge complete, Corpsman. Good to see you again, Jordan."

Jordan's face goes pale as I turn and walk out of the kitchen.