With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
10:19 GMT +4:30

"I was a little surprised to hear that you'd become Dream King while I was gone."

Kassam shrugs. "My predecessor's ill-health was hardly a state secret."

"No, I mean that you'd become Dream King."

"Oh?" Kassam glances at me as we proceed down a corridor towards the seers' workshop. "Do you not think I'm up to the task?"

"No, no, I-. I thought that the… That it was unusual for Dream Princes to become Dream King, because of the way the bond worked."

"Mm." He nods. "al-Mu'tasim did become Caliph in his own right as well."

"But that's the historical version, not the.. pre-Dream version. I doubt that the original Harun al-Rashid was quite that cavalier about his succession arrangements."

"Actually, the impression I get is that he was." He exhales sharply through his nose. "Concerned about today, concerned about eternity… But for the decade after his death? A five minute conversation and treaty not worth the parchment it was written on."

"I take it you-."

"Haven't mysteriously gained a new appreciation for the man since bonding with his conceptual framework?" He shakes his head. "Hardly. If anything, it simply brings his failures more into focus." He tilts his head back slightly. "And the criticism does.. help me keep him slightly at bay when I'm trying to be.. myself."

"Is it.. more difficult than it was..?"

"The hours are longer. But it's an evolution of the role which I occupied before, and thanks to Harun the official parts are second nature."

"No, I meant… Maintaining the separation."

He smiles, looks right and extends his right arm. Aairah smiles back and walks over to him, wrapping her left arm around his waist as he wraps his right arm around hers. "I haven't felt a greater compulsion to build a harem or become a pederast than I did before. Aairah is still the only woman whom I desire."

She makes an expression of mock-offence. "Good."

Jade nods. "How is that going down with your people?"

"What, could the-" He pats Aairah's left hand with his own left. "-ISA not furnish you with their analysis? I'm sure they've made one."

"Kassam, you're my friend. If you're having any sort of problem-."

He shakes his head. "As frustrating as I.. find it that sizeable proportions of my empire feel that they need not consider the Prophet's -peace be upon him- intent as they obey his words, I have made it clear that I do not intend to enforce my interpretations in law. Which is not to say that certain mechanisms will not be.. readjusted."

That.. could be interesting. Kassam's particular brand of Islam is of the opinion that polygamy is fine, just as long as you're marrying your late brother's wife to ensure that his family isn't left destitute. Or marrying a war widow for the same reason. They treat four as the absolute limit, not the target. They also regard some of Mohammed's social rules as being.. not entirely relevant to modern society. More conservative strains of Islam have had a habit of decrying them… At the same time as lauding a group of magic using superheroes as a bulwark against Chinese domination.

Kassam's retort was 'I may be a heretic but at least I'm consistently heretical'.

Two guards bow, then pull open the doors to the seers' chambers.

"Shahryar! Zand! Dan-oh."

Seven richly dressed people are kneeling faces down on the floor in an inward-facing circle. From the-. That's blood, and from the pattern-.

Armour.

Jade steps forward, but Kassam sticks out his left hand to stop her. "No. Listen. No moaning or crying, but they're still breathing. They aren't about to die. Don't get closer until a magician ensures that it is safe to do so." Jade nods and steps back while Kassam pointedly looks at me. "And don't scan them either." I nod. "Muhamed?"

The Grand Vizier takes a few steps forward, his hands raised and his lips in motion as he mutters an incantation while Jade forms a suit of armour and a shield in case this is some sort of trap. Weakly coloured purple mist appears around the collected seers, forming a segmented circle. "No hostile magic that my command of the craft can detect, your majesty. It appears that they were performing some form of ritual."

"This was from some form of feedback?"

Muhamed walks closer, careful not to cross the outer band of purple mist, then bends down to get a better look at the participants. "The blood is from their eyes, oh Caliph. In the cases of the most intense visions, it is not unknown. Still…" He stands and looks at the room's walls. "The room's wards are still active, and your seers know their craft. It is strange to see such a result from what was clearly a planned event." He turns to the guards who followed us in. "You! Did you see or hear anything?"

"No, my lord. Not.. beyond the normal sounds of the seers at their work."

Muhamed nods unhappily. "You." He points at the guard who didn't answer. "Fetch Lady Tolon. They will need new eyes before we press them for answers."

"Yes lord."

The guard nods his head, and then turns and dashes away. Lady Tolon is the court's archmage and has overall responsibility for magic in the Persian Empire. She also refuses to carry a radio or a phone, a problem long since been bypassed by trapping minor djinn in bottles and using them as bound messengers. She'll be here shortly.

Jade walks closer, though staying behind the Vizier. "Should we move them? Paul and I can do it without touching them directly."

"No." He turns back to continue his study of the injured seers. "It is a kind offer, but whatever spell they were working is still going. I would not risk disrupting it without a better idea of what it is. My king..?"

Kassam shakes his head. "I felt nothing. And they did not inform me of any major working."

I turn away, rising off the ground as I sweep the rest of the room. The Persian Empire has a distinct preference for anything relating to magic being placed in book form so that protective enchantments can be placed upon it. That, combined with some of the equipment in use here makes it look like something from centuries ago… Right up until you see the half-concealed computer terminals and see the laser projectors they use for drawing out arcane diagrams. But they'd still write on enchanted paper…

Queen Aairah has followed me to their desks. The few papers on them are.. forms and personal correspondences. She notices that a moment after I do, then puts her right hand on the secure storage unit. There's a click as she does so, and its door opens. She pulls the documents contained there out and spreads them across the available surface. Looks like… "They were making preparations for seeing an obscured event in the past. A little bit more sophisticated than the version used in criminal investigation, but nothing too strange. Nothing that should have caused this sort of damage."

"There are dream records here as well." Aairah begins flipping through a notebook. "Several members of the group were seeing images of a figure in a purple robe. The rest of the imagery was too confused to interpret."

Kassam frowns. "The purple figure was from the past? Was it Khyber? Does he have some sort of doomsday device we need to be wary of?"

I shrug. "There's no picture here. But I don't remember Khyber wearing pur-ple..."

That.. guy on the phone. Was it-?

There's a sudden inhalation from the circle of seers, then a series of yelps of pain. Muhamed's mists dissipate and the seers either roll on the floor clutching their empty eye sockets or stagger to their feet!

"Gentlemen!" Kassam raises his hands as he channels his dream partner's authority. "Help is on the way."

"My king!" Grand Seer Shahryar orientates on his monarch, dried blood forming tear tracks down his cheeks. "Oh my king! Everything is wrong!"

Kassam walks over to him and puts both hands on the man's shoulders. "There is no problem which we cannot overcome."

"No, my king! We are the problem."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
10:53 GMT +4:30

"There." Lady Tolon removes her hands from Mister Shahryar's face, and he blinks as his newly restored eyes react to the daylight. "Can you see clearly?"

He nods. "Yes. Thank you."

She takes a step back, her right hand resting on the hilt of the Scimitar of Suleiman. "What went wrong?"

"Nothing…" He shakes his head. "Nothing went wrong. We were protected from hostile magic; indeed, I do not think that we encountered any."

"Your own spells were overloaded?" He nods. "Whatever did you see?"

"Ah-I-." Kassam pushes a cup of tea across the table to him. "Thank you, my king. Hha." He picks up the cup and takes a sip to steady his nerves. "It was… Mm. You saw our notes. When a seer dreams… Particularly those of us who already have a connection to the Dreaming… It is worthy of note."

Kassam nods. "I haven't forgotten why I employ you."

"The figure in purple was the focus of each of the dreams, though the peripheral details were different in each case. Less.. direct methods merely indicated that the figure was linked to an event in the past, so… We worked together to look into the past."

"Um." I raise my right hand. "Did any of you contact me about this two days ago?"

Shahryar frowns, shaking his head. "No, no, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"I had a rather puzzling conversation with someone two days ago. They contacted me by ring, and mentioned a 'guy in purple'. I couldn't think of anyone they might have been referring to, and they broke off the conversation without explaining it."

"What did they.. say about this person?"

"That they'd.. dropped us both in and, that we were the only people who remembered how history was supposed to be. Given.. that parts of the history of my world have entered the public domain, I wasn't sure what they were getting at…"

"No-. Ah, yes, that makes a degree of sense. Based on what we saw…" He takes another sip, his hands shaking.

Kassam leans forward. "Don't keep us in suspense; what did you see?"

"The Night of Stone Blades."

Kassam frowns. "An unpleasant business, but I am unsure how it could cause all of the seers to be blinded."

"It is because we did not see what we should have seen. Lady Yifei, I am sure that you know China's history better than I do. What happened on that day in fourteen fifteen?"

Jade frowns. "Lao Yuqi's automata reactivated. They broke out of the First Emperor's tomb, travelled covertly to Beijing and murdered hundreds of Confucian courtiers and officials before either being destroyed or.. breaking down."

"Yes. And then?"

"The.. death of so many civilian administrators resulted in the military taking an increased role in civil administration, and… Since Prince Zhu Gaochi and his son were killed, it also changed the succession in favour of Prince Zhu Gaoxu."

The Zhànzhēng Emperor. Even bloodthirstier than his father, which when you consider what he did to become Emperor was something of an achievement. He was a large part of why the later voyages of Zheng He and his successors were further roaming and more aggressive than they were in earlier days.

Shahryar exhales sharply. "Did it?"

"Ah… I'm not an expert on history." She shrugs. "There were probably a lot of other things going on as well, but, yes."

He nods. "When we looked back, we saw what you described. We saw nothing not accounted for in written history, so we turned our eyes away and tried to see something new: why the automata had become active in the first place."

She shrugs. "Because they were programmed to."

"Why would the First Emperor have the guardians of his tomb programmed to murder his distant successor's courtiers?"

"I.. don't know?"

"Neither did we. But since our vision was centred on that period, we thought that we would examine the tomb itself. And we saw…" He winces, raising his right hand to his head. "We saw the empty tomb, and so we tried to look back further, to when Lao Yuqi was entombed. We saw him plead with the Emperor's undertaker. We saw him entombed with the corpse of his master. And then we saw a portal open, and a man step through into the great mausoleum. He knew who Lao was, he greeted him warmly and asked him to alter the programming which he gave to the automata. He said that in return he would remove him from the tomb."

Kassam nods. "Was this man a wizard?"

"He may have been, but I do not think so. When Lao asked who he was, he laughed and gave several names. I recognised three: Khafre, Brutus and Vandal Savage."

"Khafre? Hm." Kassam settles back into his chair. "Well, we knew that he was long lived. I hadn't known that he had spent time in China, but it is hardly astonishing."

"My king, he had a mechanical watch of European design. And a mobile phone. I believe that he travelled backwards in time."

There's a sharp intake of breath from both Jade and me. Vandal Savage! I always thought that he regenerated from his body; that throwing him into the sun would do the job. Does he just..? Reappear? Okay, in this era he'd be more a nuisance than anything else… Time travel notwithstanding, with modern surveillance and communications, but it's still a shock.

Kassam raises his eyebrows and rather pointedly looks at us. "Have our honourable friends been keeping secrets from us?"

Ring, check?

No contradictory data found in Heavenly Guardian records.

I shake my head. "Souma was always pretty definite about it with me, and the Guardians don't have anything to contradict it. Picked up, thrown into the sun. If that was him… He could have regenerated from a hair follicle or.. blood or something, and just kept his head down."

"And the time travel?"

Jade shakes her head. "Time travel is banned in China, and I don't think anyone is seriously working on it."

Kassam nods again, then returns his attention to Shahryar. "What happened next?"

"Lao agreed, and set to work on his automata. Khafre simply watched him at first, then joined in. We did not watch the entirety of their work, but instead came forward until they finished. Khafre reopened his portal and then led Lao through. Some of us-" His hands shake again and he presses them against the arms of his chair to still them. "-followed them through, and found ourselves in some manner of laboratory. There was a partially disassembled golden mechanical automaton in the form of a woman plugged into machinery whose purpose we could only guess at. What drew our attention was a screen upon one wall, and the figure in a purple robe whom we all recognised upon it. Khafre told him that his part was done, and the figure agreed but said that he had to check on a few things before fulfilling their bargain. I flew from the room to try to discover where they were, but all around was desert. When I finally reached a settlement, it was inhabited mostly by Europeans and Africans. Several houses showed a flag… I think it was the one used by the European colonies in North America after they claimed their independence."

"This?"

He looks at the construct flag, then shakes his head. "No, there were more stars in the corner."

!

"This?"

"Yes." He nods. "Yes, that is what it looked like."

Kassam raises his eyebrows at me. "I know the flag of the United States, and it did not look like that. Do you recognise it?"

I nod. "It's the flag of the United States of America. From my world."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
10:58 GMT +4:30

Kassam gives me a blank look. "Remind me?"

I dismiss the flag and create a map. "The country covering the northernmost part is Canada. The next one down is the United States of America. They're probably the most powerful nation on the planet."

"I thought that your world did not have the technology to shift between parallel universes."

"If someone did, they didn't tell me about it. We certainly don't have super functionaries and I don't think that we have a Vandal Savage. Just because a United States exists, that doesn't mean that it was my United States. Any America that started with thirteen states and currently has fifty would use the same one."

He nods. "True." He turns his head towards Shahryar. "Please, continue."

"No.. super functionaries?" He shakes his head. "I.. do not think it can have been your world, then. I definitely saw images of such people."

"We have them in fiction. Did you see drawings or.. actors?"

He shrugs, shaking his head again. "They appeared to be real, but… I was not there long enough to tell for certain. The technology seemed.. outdated, but beyond that..?" He shakes his head again. "I saw no place names that I recognised, and my colleagues called me back to the laboratory before much time had passed. When I returned, things were much the same as they had been. The figure in purple said that things were in accordance with his plan, and that 'corrections' would only take a moment. Khafre nodded and activated a device which appeared to freeze him and Lao in place. Then…"

He bows his head slightly.

"Things changed… I could feel chains of events snap, the flow of history contradict itself. I saw cities built, unbuilt, changed, erased, their people changing, vanishing, reappearing and finally being unmade by what was happening. As seers, we train ourselves to be sensitive to the links between times and places-."

Lady Tolon nods. "You are lucky that you just lost your eyes."

"I am certain that if we were seeing it as it happened instead of merely sensing it in the aftermath, the cost to us would have been far greater. The only point of stability was the.. 'bubble' around Khafre and Lao. We.. desperately clung to it to anchor ourselves, but even then I could feel it as those inside came adrift from the world around them. I saw Lao alone in the First Emperor's tomb, using his last days to reprogram one robot where I had seen him in company reprogramming them all. I saw him cut his wrist and bleed to death rather than let starvation claim him, even as he stood alive and well before me. I saw some small part of Khafre's life in double vision, then saw him doing two separate things at the same time in different corners of the world. It was too much."

Oh dear. "You mean they altered history? Savage went back in time to that point to change things."

Shahryar nods. "I believe that you are correct, Orange Lantern. His device kept the change from affecting him and Lao, but the rest of the world was realigned to match the new history."

Kassam looks thoughtful. "But if he is dead..?"

Jade gets it. "In the original time line, he wasn't dead. He was alive now, and that version of him avoided being changed by using time manipulation technology."

Kassam nods. "So while he was indeed thrown into the sun in the new time line, the one we know, that version was not. And as he was shielded from changes in his personal history, he would once again be alive." He hesitates. "Or rather, never died."

"Indeed, my king."

But.. that's.. not the important thing, is it? "Did his time travel equipment survive?"

"No, it did not. I-. Our spell ended as time stabilised once more, but I saw his equipment be replaced by solid rock."

Okay, good. "Could you find the location?"

He nods cautiously. "I believe so. If you have a map..?"

I take one out of subspace and float in it front of him.

"A moment." We all look at Queen Aairah. "When did this happen?"

"I.. am.. not certain that that question makes sense, my queen. Since the time in which it occurred no longer exists-."

"But he appeared in the new time line. Which we are assuming is our time line."

"That.. is true. I.. do not know, and discovering that will be harder than finding the location." He looks at Kassam. "My king?"

"I would prefer not to test you until you were better rested. But if this man has the ability to manipulate time then we cannot wait. The location first, then the time. And then rest."

Shahryar nods again, then pulls from his pocket a metal disc with a hole in the middle, suspended on a length of string. He holds it up to the map. "This will be but the work of a moment."

The disc rises, gently tugging the string towards the western part of the Sinoistic Provinces of America. Though formerly they were effectively a separate state from China, the Imperium War and improved communication technologies resulted in them becoming more closely tied to the central government. Though in the case of the war that was largely because they could still produce food that wasn't radioactive, and that made them enough money that there weren't that many complaints.

Thinking about it, maybe the lack of democracy explains the lack of separatist movements? I mean, no one paid the Scottish Nationalist Party any attention until devolved government came in, and now most of the Scottish constituencies return SNP MPs. Whereas in Imperial China, civil servants run the government and are promoted mostly meritocratically. They might have all sorts of political beliefs going in, but there's basically no space for them to do anything about them.

"Here." String hanging from it, the metal disc is floating over an area in… Would that have been Texas? North Mexico? I'm not sure. A moment later a tiny point of light appears on the map in the centre of the hole. "This is where it… Was located. I doubt that you will find anything other than a hole in the ground now, but it may aid you in locating Khafre and Lao."

The disc is steady… Ring, acquire location.

Location acquired. Location is approximate to within thirty kilometres.

Hm. "Just a moment." I alter the map, expanding the area under the pendant while dismissing the rest. "Could you-?"

The pendant moves slightly. "Here."

I repeat the process, and the pendant moves again and again… Right.

I dismiss the construct with a nod. "Jade?"

"Co-ordinates locked, and I've informed local authorities that we're on our way."

I turn to Kassam. "We'll be there in a few hours. We'll keep you updated."

He rises to his feet, walking towards me with his right hand extended. "Good hunting."

I take his hand for a moment, then step back and armour myself before turning away and striding out of the room. Jade's already in the air ahead of me and I'm hot on her heels as we leave the building and head out into the open air.

For obvious reasons, faster than light travel is prevented near to Earth. The Persian Empire keeps its end of the bargain up using magic. It literally won't work here. Which means we're doing this the mundane way. Jade and I head upwards, generating scramjet constructs as we reach a safe height and turning into a parabolic arc that will take us to America.

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
02:28 GMT -6

"…just buy something from Ma Yu Ching's Bucket Chicken House next time."

Ah, long distance self-powered flight. Geo-Force was right on the money about how boring it is. I have no idea how Thundermind copes. I'm sure that I'd go peculiar if I had to go everywhere at a mere five times the speed of sound.

"I haven't been to a Ma Yu for years."

"Really? It was one of the first places I went, even if I had to explain to them what chips are. Are you..? Do you not like it?"

"ISA catering is really good. And before, I was a sports fanatic. I tried to avoid greasy take away food like that."

"So the pie restaurant was..?"

"I just… You found it awkward, so I thought eating… British food-"

"Hahahaha!"

"-might-. Yes, okay."

"I mean I -hah!- appreciate the thought, but-. They had zweihänder Morris dancing, for goodness sake!"

"Aaaaaand?"

"Morris dancing doesn't involve zweihänders. Handkerchiefs, stout sticks and arming swords, certainly, but I'm sure the only reason they were using those huge.. things is that weird cultural obsession some parts of China have with Europeans using huge swords."

"Oh. Is it..? Does it.. bother you? Did you.. actually do… 'Proper' Morris dancing?"

"Hah! Oh, no. Um, one of my dad's friends was a member of the local troupe and… When I was younger we used to.. go down to the seafront once a year to watch the maypole dancing on May Day. So I know what it's meant to look like and that was kind of it, but they'd clearly had to innovate to work those ridiculous swords into it."

"So was that a 'no, you didn't do it', or a 'no, it doesn't bother you'?"

"It bothers me because they're doing it wrong. If you want to see what it's meant to look like I can take you to see an actual troupe doing it next year."

"So it's.. not the cultural appropriation thing?"

"The c-? HAH! Um, no." We both begin decelerating as we get closer to our destination. "It's just daft. It's like… Imagine that every character in Chinese popular fiction carried a changdao everywhere. Li the Talking Zither from Adventures in Music? Changdao. Hides it in his board in case An-An ever needs it. Doctor Chang from the Diaries of Doctor Chang, Mild Mannered Country Doctor? He's now Doctor Changdao and if gentle persuasion doesn't work he's got a huge-"

"No!"

"-sword to back it up. Wang Hien from that Garden Beauticians program Harmonious One likes to watch?"

"Changdao." / "Changdao."

"Because she really hates ornamental hedges."

Through the green glow of her construct armour I see her smiling at the idea. "I'd actually watch Doctor Changdao. 'Why do you drink and bring shame upon your family? Rah!'."

"I.. think there'd be complaints." We come to a halt, desert as far as the eye can see. "Was anyone going to meet us here?"

"I didn't see the point. It's in the middle of nowhere and they'd probably get here after us. And if we can't find anything-."

"Then the next step would be a magic user."

"I was going to say that there's probably nothing here to find, but there might be a shaman around here the local office could get hold of." She points her right hand at the desert below us. "Shall we?"

"If you insist." Ring, scan.

Compliance.

"I suppose we could come all this way and then just go home again."

Show me what's there. "Oh, heck no. It's got to be dinner time by now."

"It's five o'clock."

"And by the time we flew back it would be dinner time. We could pick up some Mexican food-."

Results available.

We lower our rings. As Shahryar said, there's a sphere.. missing, from the rock. It's partially filled in, partially where dust from the surrounding environment has blown in and partially from where someone dug their way out with a plasma gun. Given the heat that would generate, it was a bit of a risk. On the other hand, Vandal Savage would have assumed that he'd eventually regenerate, and… I doubt that he cared much about Lao. The rock is cold and there aren't any tracks, so whenever they left it wasn't recent. No technological artefacts or spatial anomalies detected. There's a-.

Ah! A hair, wedged under a rock.

"Got a genetic sample."

Partial match on available caveman samples.

"It's Savage. Submitting to local ISA office."

"Any matches?"

"Not yet, but something's bound to come up."

No credit cards from a 'normal' time line would work here, precious metal would require a background check including a genetic sample… Kassam will be getting his people to provide a sketch as soon as they've recovered so we'll know what to look for… Hm. Don't know enough about USA road networks to guess how the ones here differ.

I turn to Jade. "He's not here and he's not wandering the desert. Where do you think he went?"

She creates a construct map of the area. "When did Europeans settle this part of America on your world?"

"I'm.. not sure. I suppose… The oldest cities east of here might be in the same place, but I'm not sure he could reach them quickly. I don't think any west coast cities are in the same place."

"He is on record as being a cannibal. Maybe he brought Lao along so that he could eat him if it took too long?"

"Seems a bit odd to me that he had a time machine but not a personal teleporter."

She frowns. "Wait." A hand construct extends downwards and picks up a piece of plasma-melted rock before pulling it back up.

"What about it?"

She generates an automaton construct and has it grip… Its fingers fit perfectly grooves melted into the rock. "He couldn't guarantee any sort of help in the new time line, but they had all the time they wanted to work on the automata. They could just program them to walk here and wait. They don't need water or food and won't be affected by heat."

I nod. "He could just order them to carry him to the coast, or pass on information about what they'd seen."

"I'll contact local police. We need to find them as soon as possible."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
02:35 GMT -6

The golden glowing ankh appears in the air before us, and one of Nabu's monks strides through. "Honoured Lanterns, please enter at once."

He steps back and Jade and I fly through the opening into their temple complex in Shiraz.

24th October
13:05 GMT +4:30

I know for a fact that those ankh portals aren't easy for mortal wizards to open, and even less to transport people who are not strongly order-aligned. This one shuts down immediately as the monk who greeted us comes back through, the monks holding it open on this side slumping with relief as they let the spell fade away. Okay, either Nabu or the abbot wanted us back in a hurry-.

"Honoured Lanterns." Jade and I look up as the abbot enters the ritual chamber, guardian Lamassu at his side. Abadun is a heavily built black man with his greying hair and beard bound in dreadlocks. He'd look like a pirate if not for the complete calm with which he conducts himself. "We have heard disturbing tidings from Caliph Kassam; his seers convinced that our whole world is based upon the actions of a time travelling criminal. Is this true?"

I reluctantly nod. "There's a certain amount of circumstantial evidence which implies that may be the case." Those monks who are still mobile rise to leave, while their more exhausted colleagues are helped out by novices. The moment the last of them are out a new group file in, chanting prayers as they come. "Why did you call us back? We'd barely started searching America for them."

"If Khafre were not protected against detection by your rings, you would have found him in moments. Since he is not in your custody, Lord Nabu felt that the task of examining surveillance was best left to Ultimon while he unbinds Khafre's protective spells himself."

Jade and I glance at each other, then nod. He's right. Heck, we don't even know if Savage stayed in this time period.

Abadun smiles slightly. "Do you have Khafre's hair?" Jade nods and holds it out. "Excellent." Another novice comes forward with a small, ankh inscribed jewellery box. "Please, put it in there."

Jade frowns slightly, but complies. "Are you going to try scrying for Khafre with it?"

"Oh, no." The novice closes the box and it vanishes in a flare of golden light. "As I said, that is Lord Nabu's task. Our task is far easier." He gestures to the circle of monks behind us. "Orange Lantern, you told Caliph Kassam that you were contacted by someone who spoke to you through your ring. Having listened to what he said, I have reached the conclusion that it is likely that he knows something about the events which have taken place. It is him whom we shall be searching for. That is why we need you to be here." He gestures to the centre of the ritual space with his right hand. "Please?"

"All of me, or just my ring?"

"All of you, please. He implied that there was an existing relationship between the two of you which you no longer remember. That will-" I nod, turn away and walk to the centre of the ritual space. "-make things easier."

Jade frowns. "What am I here for?"

"Once this ritual is complete, we will open another portal to his location. Since we have no idea what level of resistance to expect, you and I will advance alongside Orange Lantern."

She nods as I reach the indicated space. "Do I just stand here?"

The monks bow their heads, golden strands of light dancing through the air around me. Abadun nods. "Yes, that is quite sufficient. Please focus your mind on your recollections of the conversation."

Ah. Alright? It wasn't a long conversation, so… 'Hey, P-.' Agh, name. But he definitely sounded like he knew me. 'Sorry this took s' long. Guess that purple guy dropped us both in it, huh?' The vernacular 'dropped us in it' is something that doesn't exist in the lexicon of this world. The 'purple guy' did something to both of us-. Wait. I came from a parallel universe anyway. My personal history wasn't affected before my arrival point. But he knows-. He knew the me from that other, non-Savaged time line. He knew how to contact my ring. They might.. even have been friends.

I suppose I can.. understand him not wanting to talk to me. It must be more than a little dis-.

The golden light around me shines brilliantly! For a moment I get a clear view of a middle aged European with short orange hair and a moustache. Can't.. clearly see his environment…

"There! We have him! Open the gateway!"

Right, we'll just-. No, I can't move. Or.. feel my body. That's a.. bit of a worry. My only point of awareness is the man who prank called me, and he's… Feeling for his necklace and.. standing up… Looks… Worried..?

And-.

Ugh. The lights have dimmed, the monks are slumping once more and Jade's holding the man from my vision in construct cables. He looks around at the interior of the monastery, not scared exactly but certainly concerned.

"Heya, everyone. Nice place y'got here. What is that, sixteenth century?"

I walk out of the circle, power ring glowing. "Sir, we have a bit of a situation and we have reason to suspect that you-" He turns his head my way, wincing as he does so. "-have pertinent information. We would very much appreciate it-."

"Hey, Paul. How 're you finding bizarre world?"

"It's treating me pretty well. You do know me, then?"

"Then, now, sure, whatever. We know-knew each other."

I glance at Abadun and Jade, but they seem content to let me do the talking. "In what way?"

"Ahhhh." His face takes on a downcast expression. "Coulda had some fun with this… If things were a little different." He sighs. "Yah know about the time line changing, right?"

"Yes. Vandal Savage went back in time to reprogram the terracotta warriors, resulting in the time line being changed, from.. whatever it was before to this."

"I don't get what happened to Kal-El. Shouldn't he still a' got sent here?"

Ah… I wouldn't know who Kal-El was if I hadn't seen him in the comics, would I? "What's your name?"

"Truggs. Nylor Truggs." He glares contemptuously at Jade. "Which means Nylor is my personal name." His head turns slowly back in my direction. "And you're Paul, yah can't say yer own name without fainting and yah founded the Orange Lantern Corps. Funny how yah still got together with a woman named Jade." He frowns. "You sure you don't remember anything about… The Legion? The Time Trapper?"

Flat out lying in an order-temple would be unwise. "What legion would that be?"

He exhales sharply. "The Legion of Superheroes? From the.. future..?" My face doesn't move, so he checks Jade and Abadun to see if there's a reaction there. "Well, on the plus side, I kinda think we found out how their future got erased. On the negative side, it kinda wiped out ours as well."

"I really.. don't remember this."

"You don't remember merging with the Ophidian?"

"Merge with-? That would be insane!"

"Yeaah, good times. Alright. Far as I know? Savage wan'ed some kinda temporal… Thing, an' I somehow built it. Except that was future me, 'cause the Legion showed up and dragged me off t' Vanishing Point. While I was swinging my heels, some guy called Jason Goldstein time travelled back t' try an' stop some.. assassin group… The Justice League… They're a superhero team… They shut 'em down, then you got picked up 'cause the Legion don't really know what they're doing an' thought you might be th' source of th' time changes." He slumps back in the chains. "I still can't work out how this is supposed t' be my fault."

"How did you end up back here?"

"The Time Trapper. Guy in a purple robe. I'd heard a' him before… Never seen him until he threw you an' me back into the time stream. You sure you don't remember-?"

"No. But why do you?"

"If you really don't, I'd guess it's because my personal time line doesn't work any more. But yours does, 'cause a' how you come from a parallel universe. You just slot right in, I stand right out."

"Do you know where Savage is now?"

"No. But I.. do know where some a' his safe houses are. And I'll tell yah… But I gotta ask: you're gunna fix things. Right?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
13:12 GMT +4:30

Jade shakes her head. "All the rest are covered, but we don't have anyone in Europe who can get there quickly enough."

I look at Abadun. "I don't suppose that you could teleport us?"

"Could we? Yes. But we are keeping ourselves for high urgency tasks. There are not an unlimited number of monks here."

Jade sighs. "We'll just have to fly there ourselves." She turns away to start towards the exit. "Come on. The sooner we start-" She rises into the air with me hot on her heels. "-the sooner we finish."

"That sounds like defeatist talk to me. Ring, call Harmonious One."

"Calling."

Jade glances back as we negotiate the corridors at speed, heading for the open air. "Harmonious One? You can't bring him here!"

"We'll be out of Persian air space by the time he can respond."

Brrrrring!

I generate a phone construct and raise it to my head. "Orange Lantern to Harmonious One."

"Oh exalted one, My Lord Lantern! How gracious of you-"

"Can we not?"

"-to remember that this… Humble functionary-"

"Do you want to help or not?"

"-is your most obedient-"

"We might lose the last six hundred years."

"-s-. Ah. Should I come to you?"

"Yes please. Meet us at the Persia/Europe border."

"Oh, yes. It's only a few hundred miles long. It won't be hard at all to spot a single man-sized object. When you say 'lose the last six hundred-"

Jade's scramjets fire with deafening force as we get far enough away from the monastery to use them.

"-years', what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Are you on your way?"

"Yes. It just takes a moment or two for the hat to get big enough."

"A Vandal Savage from an alternate time line created this timeline six hundred years ago by travelling back in time and causing the Night of Stone Knives. Now he's back in this present and we don't know where he is or what he's doing."

"Oh. Ah. Wait a moment." I trigger my scramjets while he thinks about it. "Ah… The hat… It's.. talking to me."

"Is it talking about how to get us to Europe faster?"

"It's.. talking.. about time. Ooooh, it's all so beautiful."

I accelerate to catch up with Jade. Of course, Nabu's anti-chaos magic user sentiment might not be entirely unjustified. I once saw the Harmonious One spend four hours staring at a plasma ball, and the hat itself talking is.. not a good omen as far as productivity is concern-.

A red slash tears across the sky, and Jade and I fly straight into it!

24th October
11:18 GMT +3

And out of it-! And… We're here? I decelerate as the countryside of Wallachia flashes past. The Heavenly Guardians have an… Understanding with King Vlad, which means that he shouldn't take umbrage at this violation of his territory. And as the number one cause of the Persian Empire not expanding into Europe he also has one with the rest of the continent, including the parts that would ideally like to see him staked at a crossroad. The holiday home which Mr Truggs fingered as having an auxiliary function as Savage's getaway is rapidly approaching, a translucent dancing dragon circling around it suggesting that Harmonious One got here ahead of us.

Jade smiles at me as she loses altitude. "If he was that efficient normally I'd actually try getting him promoted."

"I don't think the hat paying attention to current events is likely to be a good thing."

The Harmonious One himself is near the front door, gesticulating at.. a couple of figures in cloth-swathed armour. Vampire knights of the Order of the Dragon. Overcast sky? Yes. Vulnerability to sunlight becomes much less important when your elite can control the weather. Screaming face tabard means… Scream Queen, and the Cross of St George with a blood droplet means.. Andrew Bennett.

He looks up as we approach. "Lanterns. What brings you here?"

Jade lands just in front of him. "According to an informant, this is one of Vandal Savage's hideouts."

"Vandal Savage? I thought that I recognised the scent from somewhere."

I land next to Jade. "If you're not here for him..?"

Scream Queen turns her helmeted head towards the manor. "Blood. It's officially a collection of holiday flats, but now it reeks of blood. About… Thirty different sources, which are as many people as are registered as staying here. Local police opened the door, saw the bodies and then called us."

None of us make a joke of it. The Order test the self control of aspirants extremely harshly before letting them join, and the penalty for a knight who loses control on active duty is to be impaled and left in sunlight. It's not as quick as some films make it look.

Jade nods, then gestures towards the door. "It's your country. But we need any clues on Savage's current whereabouts."

Mr Bennett nods. "Of course. Do you have an accurate plan of the-?"

Scan and map.

A three dimensional model of the manor's interior appears before me. It's divided into apartments with some common areas… Mr Truggs said that only a handful were ever occupied at any one time, with the rest being reserved for Savage or his guests. Mr Bennett and Scream Queen look it over and then move, their bodies and armour partially transformed into mist to enable them to run at superhuman speed and flow around obstacles.

I monitor their progress through the manor as Jade waves her right hand in front of Harmonious One's unresponsive face. "Harmonious One?"

"Something's very wrong, you know." He.. sort of manages to focus on her. "Destiny is not so flexible as to allow time to be mistaken."

"The only 'mistake' is that Savage is free."

"No… No, you don't akgh." He winces, pulls the hat from his head and then fans himself with it. "A history that has already happened has a momentum to it, a presence that continues even when the history ends. For little shifts it can be lost in the background… Correct itself. But for major changes energy has to come from somewhere. Sustaining… Us, for six hundred years… The hat isn't sure how it could be done. But then I thought… Were we here for six hundred years last week? Because if we weren't, then the equation starts to look a lot more possible."

That sounds like something I should worry about. "What happens when the power runs out?"

"The hat doesn't know, but at a rough guess? The universe makes itself as much like what it should be in the most efficient way possible. That… Probably isn't survivable for us."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
11:26 GMT +3

Jade pulls me away from Harmonious One. "How much.. faith are we putting in a talking hat?"

"That's a slightly harsh way of talking about Lord Nabu."

"I'd believe Lord Nabu. Harmonious One is talking about our whole world ceasing to exist because 'time' says so."

"No, he said we could prevent that happening by finding a sufficiently large power source to make up the energy debt." She blinks. "I don't want our history to be destroyed any more than you do."

"You'd still exist."

"No, some other guy with my name, face and ring would still exist. Some.. lunatic who thinks that bonding with the Embodiment of Avarice is a clever idea. Without my history, my memories… Without you or Jade…" I shake my head. "But that isn't Harmonious-."

She nods. "Harmonious One's fault."

"I can hear you, you know." We turn to look at him as he holds the hat to his right ear. "If I seem distracted it's because the hat and I are trying to come up with a solution."

"Would you be affected?"

"Probably. Almost certainly. Though the hat might remember me, whether it ever mentioned me to anyone or not."

"Do you have any way to track down Savage?"

He taps his chin with the brim of his hat. "Assuming that Lord Nabu is doing his level best to brute force the issue and so it isn't worth my while attempting that approach, a more indirect divination would rely on Savage actively involving himself in the society around him. Since he almost certainly hasn't been doing that…" He holds his hat out to arm's length with the brim up, then turns it over. A series of sticks… Yarrow stalks, fall out and land on the ground. He looks at them for a few moments, then solemnly returns the hat to his head. "Not a clue."

Hm. "How does magic interact with time travel?"

"Apparently, your eyes explode."

"That wasn't-."

"In theory, more esoteric magic effects should ignore it while more physical ones would be almost completely nullified. You might have a point, though. If Savage is hiding himself using temporal distortion technology rather than magic…"

A cloud of mist blasts out of the manor, precipitating into Mr Bennett. "Thirty three dead, no survivors. The deaths were inflicted by axe and short sword. All exits save the front door were barred so that none could escape, though from the location of many of the bodies it appears that the attack happened while they were in bed. To begin with, at least. The fallen were finished where they fell, then left in place."

Jade nods. "Did you find a workshop or an office?"

"There's what looks like a panic room. From the general construction I'd say that it's designed to be 'vampire proof'-" For some reason a number of tourism companies consider those to be de rigueur in Wallachia. "-and it's air tight. We could break in with brute force, but if you wouldn't mind assisting..?"

Jade nods, rising into the air to follow him as he turns back into mist to lead the way inside.

Ah... "Do you think it will have occurred to Nabu to watch for temporal distortions?"

"It should. If it occurred to me then it should occur to someone thousands of years old. But then again, I've never met him."

I frown. "Doesn't he assess all magic users promoted beyond-?"

Harmonious One shakes his head. "One of his acolytes did the actual testing. He signed off on it… Maybe he just didn't trust himself where the hat and I are concerned?"

Doesn't sound likely. I'd honestly expect him to do the job fairly, regardless of his personal biases. But perhaps-.

My ring blinks and I raise it to my left ear. "Yes?"

"Four automata, no longer functioning. There's a modern electronics workshop, used recently. Savage isn't here but he can't have gone far."

"And the gynoid? Mister Lao?"

"Some of the left over parts might have come from her. Lao isn't here. I've already notified the rest of the Guardians and Scream Queen is in the middle of reporting to King Vlad."

Progress, of a sort. "Do you think it's worth bringing Mister Truggs here?"

"No. I've planted a remote observation device. He and Artificer will have to make do."

I nod. The alternative would be removing the anti-FTL ward, and that is legally rather tricky without a.. smoking gun. People have to meet, and the handful of us actually affected by the thing have to explain why saving a few hours is vital to the wellbeing of the planet.

"General broadcast detected. Speaker identifies as 'Vandal Savage'."

"Play!"

"…remember me. I had hoped that the alterations I made to the time line would have resulted in my temporal duplicate becoming Emperor."

Ring, where's that coming from?

"Instead, he was thrown into the sun by the predecessor of one of your greatest heroes."

Broadcast emanates from 'everywhere'. However, an earlier part of the broadcast stated that his location was in Japan.

"The man now lying at my feet."

I'm a mile up before I can even form a coherent thought and I'm still moving as it occurs to me that there's absolutely no way I can get there fast enough for it to make any difference. But I can't imagine not trying. I warp space, the pale golden glow of the ward appearing at once to try and stop what it thinks could be a FTL torpedo.

"A little under a century ago the two greatest military powers on this planet went to war with one another over control of a thin strip of land of minimal economic value."

But unlike a simple mechanical device I can push back against magic, even feed on it. I'm moving fast, but it's still too slow-.

"The craters from where it escalated into an atomic exchange are still visible on the landscape today."

I increase the size of my construct engine, cycling through alien designs until I find something that might be powerful enough.

"Ninety-three years are all that separate the Japanese Home Islands from atomic desolation."

The ward finally wins but I'm coming around the corner of the world now, laser constructs at the ready.

"A mere ninety-three years."

Brilliant flashes of light appear in the Sea of Japan.

"To a man as old as I am, ninety three years is nothing."

The flashes, the.. mushroom clouds… I start to slow down as my growing horror starts to eclipse my single-minded drive.

Ring, is that..?

Every nuclear detonation which occurred on the Japanese Home Islands during the entire Imperium War has occurred again.

"My alternate self could not become Emperor. But I think you will find me a rather tougher prospect. I am at the top of Mount Fuji, and when I have slain the Heavenly Guardians the world will bow its head to me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
17:31 GMT +9

Laser constructs. And if Souma is still alive, find him.

Compliance.

Three five-metre long laser cannons appear alongside me, and images of different parts of Japan flick through my mind. The heavy anti-air defences and fighter screens both China and Japan used during the war made it extremely hard for nuclear bombers to get through. The remains I detected when I first arrived were from impacts which occurred weeks or months apart. Now…

The Home Islands hadn't really been the centre of the Japanese government since the Imperium War -that's in New Tokyo in.. where Peru would be-, and they've never had the same population density as they once did. But there are-. There were a good thirty million people down there. And the centre of Japan's magic education and research program. The shockwaves and heat from the simultaneous blasts have… It's.. just gone. Heck, the winds are visibly tearing at my construct armour even up here. I don't… Think that the place is going to come back from this one.

But I can scan through the clouds.

Target located.

Beams of focused ultra-violet light shimmer through the air between myself and Vandal Savage, burni-.

He turns to look upward at me as my beams vanish entirely about a metre from him.

"Ah, the Orange Lantern. I did think that you would be the first to arrive, though I had assumed that it would take you a little longer."

There's no way that his voice could be heard through the hurricane winds presently levelling what's left of the Home Islands. His voice is at conversational volume, but it sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once. Okay, beams vanishing. Switch to visible light.

"In a way, it is fitting that you and I have time to converse-" Visible light doesn't have a greater effect. I spread my laser constructs out to see if his shield has a limited arc of coverage. It appears not to. "-before the final confrontation. I had doubted that the version of your origin which you put into the public domain was accurate, but your presence here indicates that you were being honest all along."

I try scanning him to get a better idea of how his shield is working. Usually, the shield being invisible means that visible light lasers should go through unobstructed but that's clearly not what's happening here. No, I… The scans I'm getting are distorted. The winds and nearby nuclear detonations make it hard to tell, but I don't think that my lasers are increasing the local temperature. If that's true, they aren't hitting any sort of barrier that I'm familiar with. Energy isn't being absorbed or shunted.

Savage.. floats upwards, rising through the dust clouds without any difficulty at all. Rather than any of the historical aristocrat clothing I'm used to comic and television versions of him wearing, this one has gone for… Some sort of hard body armour and a.. cloak, which is strangely still even in the high winds.

Ring, anything alive in the vicinity of Mount Fuji?

None detected. However, be advised that scans are currently unreliable due to environmental conditions and novel technology.

Understood.

I dismiss the lasers and switch to plasma. Shimmering purple-white ions leap from the gun and.. fade out just before they reach him. Okay, I know there's nothing wrong with the shot. The clouds it passed through were affected appropriately. I dismiss the plasma cannon-

"Please! Take all the shots you want! I can think of no better way to show how utterly ineffectual they are!"

-and generate a beam singularity gun.

"Orange Lantern to all allies. I am about to use a singularity weapon. Stay back."

"A reasonable choice. Still, I am afraid to say that-"

Firing.

The universe.. skips, light being distorted as the beam fires. The dust clouds are sucked inwards, clearing a path where a moment later I can see Savage himself… Entirely unaffected once more.

"A sound choice again. I think you may have just inadvertently caused the Toba catastrophe."

The airborne dust is rapidly refilling the hole I created, but I finally get a clear look at him. Purple robes over golden armour. The armour appears to be of a similar design to what the gynoid had as her outer surface. He's a good deal larger than her, so he clearly hasn't just stripped off her outer casing. Purple robes… Was he making a stable time loop and telling his past self how to do this?

"Given all the history I have seen, it feels a little strange to mention an extinction event I did not personally witness. Of course… Now." He clenches his fist and the ash cloud is gone. "That's hardly a concern."

Ash cloud gone. Teleportation? Not that my ring detected. Transmutation? No, there was no increase or decrease of local temperatures. Volume for volume, ash-filled air has a lot more mass than normal air. Around the.. edge of his cleared zone the air is trying to break back in. I can clearly see the air currents as different textures in the ash, and they're… Just vanishing before they get within one hundred metres.

"And now a small group of third century farmers are wondering why there is a single black cloud in the sky. And will shortly be suffering the first cases of radiation sickness in human history." He looks up at me as he continues to rise. "Do you see, Lantern, what I can now accomplish with a mere wave of my hand?"

Third century-? He sent it backwards it time, bringing the equivalent volume of air forwards. That's… The bombs, they-. No, there weren't any reports of them having only half the expected yield or anything. He can make time repeat as well as transpose it.

Um.

"You really have no recollection of our past conflicts, do you?"

There are ways to take advantage of that, but none that are readily accessible to me. Ugh.

"Where's Souma?"

"Dead. Given his many years of honourable service, I felt it only just to kill him swiftly and painlessly. It's so rare to find that level of dedication in this.. modern era. He didn't even moan when I stuck the knife in."

Kill. Him.

"I see so few familiar faces in this new world. In a way, we-."

ASSIMILATE!

The sky turns orange, Savage's hundred metre exclusion zone battered back centimetre by centimetre as the orange light seizes whatever exotic process he's using to do this. MORE! GET HIM!

"Ah, of course. A fearsome attack in most circumstances. I imagine that you would very much like to make me your puppet in revenge. Sadly for you-" The assimilation effect has covered nearly half the distance now, YES! "-even this is inadequate."

He waves his right hand and-. The orange glow appears to contract. It now stops two metres away from me in all directions. Push harder!

"I have surrounded you in a tiny sphere of the past. Your orange light is reaching past it perfectly well. It simply isn't coming anywhere near me." He comes closer, smiling smugly. "I realise that this iteration of you is not the one who confronted me aboard the Justice League's Watchtower. Intellectually, I understand that the you responsible for me spending two months being continually eaten by hyenas has gone, along with the rest of that troublesome time line. Still, I think I will derive no small measure of satisfaction from killing all of your new allies while you watch."

He turns his head away slightly. I can't hear anything from outside but him, but it looks like a sound has caught his attention.

"And here they come now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
17:36 GMT +9

Artificer's combat drones come first, firing as they make their initial approach. Each is patterned after a different action figure; some are members of the Heavenly Guardians, others figures from comics or animated series. As many of them as possible have 'show accurate' weapons, but he gets a lot of mileage out of multicoloured plasma. Beams, rockets and bullets fill the air around Savage and me… 'Around' in the sense of 'in all directions'. Not one comes within a hundred metres.

The closest drone -Lupo the Friendly Shark- is the first to reach Savage's exclusion zone and dives right in.

"Hmm."

He lets it come on for a few seconds, until I can clearly see the faint shimmer of its disruption field coated teeth with my unaided eyes.

"Did you know that the god Susanoo first fell to earth not far from here? I was too far away to witness it happen. But now…"

The formerly calm air vanishes in an instant, replaced by a swirling roaring mass of lightning-wreathed water. Dimly through the deluge I see a humanoid outline plummeting towards the sea below us, electricity leaping and burning through every drone in the area. Savage smiles, slowly clapping his hands as if to a mildly amusing circus performance, and the torrent is once more replaced by clear skies. There are plenty of drones left, but they appear to be the observational type and are keeping well back.

Ah… Who else would be on duty? Despite Souma's efforts, I don't really know that many of the Japanese members of the Heavenly Guardians all that well. The Home Islands have never needed to bring in talent from outside, and I've mostly been assigned to mainland Asia. Warrior Maiden should be in the general area, and a few wizards… Though they might have all been killed in the atomic conflagration. That leaves-.

"Hukk." Savage stares down at the sword piercing his chest from the rear as the ethereal figure I recognise as Snow Man partially transfers himself back into the material world behind him. Savage's skin swiftly whitens as his flesh freezes solid, Snow Man's magic reducing his body to zero degrees Kelvin. "Hur."

Savage vanishes, and Snow Man stares around to try and spot him. I see his mouth moving, but no sound is reaching me in my time bubble.

"Of course, storms are not the best way to fight everything. Why don't we wind the clock back a little, to before your first meeting with the Goddess of Ice Ages."

Snow Man tries to fade out. He almost makes it, then with a slight flicker he suddenly becomes fully corporeal instead and instantly begins falling towards the distant ground. A couple of drones beneath us turn away from their observations and accelerate to match velocities with him. Without his elemental partner he's even less dangerous than a conventional soldier, but if they catch him he's got a good chance of surviv-.

Savage reappears, entirely unhurt from his brush with absolute zero. He raises his right hand and shoots Snow Man's falling body with a dull red energy beam. It strikes him in the back of the head, flash-frying the rear portion of his skull and the brain beneath. Snow Man's aimed fall turns into an uncontrolled tumble as carbonised fragments of his head fall away.

"Clever." Savage lowers his right hand. "But insufficient. I had assumed that an area of time predating the fall of Atlantis would be sufficient to guard against coddled modern wizards. But I can see that I should have reached back further." The air around us shimmers for a moment, my ring telling me that the oxygen atmosphere of modern Earth has been replaced by something richer in sulphur dioxide and methane. "There. Now only the most primal magics will function."

"This won't save you."

"Lantern, I am immortal." He tilts slightly in the air, looking down below us. "Ah, an invisibility system. Unfortunately for the warriors using it, I can look back from when they reveal themselves."

"An expert I spoke to earlier said that the change you made to time resulted in an unstable-."

"Unstable time line. Yes, I am aware."

He waves his left hand and a large passenger plane appears from nowhere, smashes into an apparently empty point in the sky and begins to crumple. That-. I recognise the identification number. That plane went down twenty years ago in circumstances that were never-!

The holographic disguise protecting one of Artificer's transport aircraft flickers and fails even as the vehicle itself tries to pull itself free of the tumbling wreckage it's intermeshed with. Warrior Maiden punches through the outer hull and tries to push them apart. Metal curls in her grip, then Savage gestures and… Her intestines fall from her chest as she suddenly finds that the lower part of her body has been returned to a prior location without taking the top part with her.

"Interesting."

Even reduced to a crippled torso she tries weakly pulling herself back to the transport aircraft with her hands. Savage gestures again and her head vanishes, her upper body following her lower body as it falls towards the ground.

"You see, Lantern, there are so many different ways I could kill all of you. And only a handful who are a real threat. Would it better demonstrate my supremacy-" His smile widens slightly, and Warrior Maiden reappears whole and well in the air beneath us. She looks around for a moment in wonder, then screams as her body is cut vertically in three!

"-if I toyed with you? It is a simplistic way to use my command of time, but it makes a most excellent cutting tool."

"But if the time line is unstable, then none of this matters! Kill all of us, you'll be destroyed as well! And we'd have been erased in a little while anyway!"

He glances back at me. "Hardly. Even without this equipment, if even a single cell of my body survived, I would eventually regenerate with all of my memories intact. With it, the very act of chronal collapse will only serve to empower me more fully." His eyes narrow. "I will have control over the world which emerges from the temporal confusion. It will not be too difficult to create one where I rule supreme." He smiles cruelly. "True, I will not be able to prevent your arrival. But since I now know precisely where and when you appear, killing you in those first confusing moments before you learned how to use your ring should not be overly difficult." He turns away. "They appear to be trying something new."

Okay, I know what he's planning. There's basically nothing I can do to stop him from here aside-. Aside from trying to merge with the Ophidian. And I don't believe that a world run by Vandal Savage would be a worse place than one where she'd converted everyone into constructs for her own amusement. I don't know exactly when he's sending the orange light I'm hitting him with-

Savage's hair is mildly ruffled as asteroids from Earth's distant past fly past us and obliterate… I.. don't know who those were.

-is going, but it's going somewhen. Who could detect it, almost regardless of when it was? The Guardians go back a long way… And I know that our rings' communication systems are at least somewhat compatible. Ring, attempt to contact the Guardians. Or any Green Lanterns in that era.

The sky around us lights up, though as ever Savage's area of effect proves utterly immune. He looks upwards, blinking at the light. "Mass produced space craft. Those, I will keep. But the design will need to be improved upon with technologies not found in this time line. And these particular ships-"

He raises both hands. From here I can't really see what happens.

"-can be done away with."

But I can guess.

No response detected.

Fine, be like that. Maximum broadcast power.

Compliance.

A human named Vandal Savage has acquired temporal distortion weaponry and is attempting to create a chronal collapse.

"I know full well that you're trying something. You should know that it is futile. I received instructions on how to win from a future version of myself."

I was right, then. I thought the Time Trapper was a version of Superboy Prime? "One who won?"

"No. One who wished to ensure that I did not repeat the mistakes that led him to become trapped at Vanishing Point." He looks even smugger. "He also told me how to become him, so that I in turn can advise an earlier version of us both. So even if I somehow fail to fulfil my primary objective, I can simply try again."

Green Lantern Jade Yifei is working on a counter, but needs additional data. My observations of his abilities are included. Prepare yourselves.

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
17:43 GMT +9

I stare deeply into Savage, trying to comprehend in full his desires and drives. I may not like doing this with most people, but Savage is reassuringly monstrous on the inside as well. His desire to rule the world is literally just a continuation of his original self's drive to dominate his tribe and their neighbours. Were I a more enlightened Lantern I might respect the fact that he is so at peace with himself. As it is, it just makes my desire to destroy him grow stronger.

Savage looks around us distractedly. "I wonder what could be keeping them?"

"You've demonstrated the ability to destroy or-" I gesture to the sphere of alternate time surrounding me. "-disable a wide variety of opponents. There's no point engaging you until they come up with an approach which might actually work."

"Ah. A pity."

"Why do you even care?! You're going to erase them all anyway?!"

"Some may have histories which make their existences possible within my new world. Since I suspect that I can make them as loyal to me as they are to their existing sovereigns, I would like to know how they react to their own mortality." He watches me for a moment. "What is this? No protest that they would never work for me?"

"No, I'm sure with control of time you could probably generate versions of them who were loyal to your empire and to morals whose nature you would dictate."

"But not you."

"You're welcome to try travelling to Earth Prime at your convenience."

Again, if I were a more enlightened Lantern, I might find the fact that his confidence isn't a cover for any sort of insecurity interesting. He genuinely finds it a sort of bizarrely exasperating amusement that the world doesn't kneel to him. I'm still disgusted by it.

"I'm not sure that it has anything worth taking. Your description made it sound somewhat bland."

"We both know that you'll try anyway."

"True. But not personally. Once my empire stands triumphant in this system and its armies are mine to control, I can consider expanding into other territories."

How much of this stuff won't work on Earth Prime? Infantry equipment would probably work… I'm not really sure if their power packs use 'comic' technology or make conventional sense. It's the same with the spacecraft; I think they'd keep working if a portal back could be created.

Still. Just one more reason to stop him.

Quell desires.

I am not good at this sort of borderline magic use of the orange light. Orange light wants things to want things. Cutting it off, using my own desires to quell it… It's not just a matter of brute force, you have to understand… Almost relate to what you're stopping. Okay, seems to be holding…

Savage isn't being hurt, he just doesn't really want anything. The barrier of altered time around me… I float forwards and press my right hand intoaghr! I pull back my hand, the tips of my fingers… Burned off? The ends aren't.. really bleeding, and I can't spare the focus to fix them. Savage watches my injury, but that's more because it's the only thing happening in his immediate environment than out of any real interest.

But there's no attack, which suggests that my message didn't get through. He's effectively disabled like this, but the temporal alterations which he has already made are still in effect. So I'm still stuck, and.. attacks from outside his area of time control will still be blocked. I could in theory assimilate him like this, except… I'm barely holding his desires down as it is. I can't combine the two. So this basically achieves nothing.

I really want to kill him and the best I can do is stun-lock him until I run out of ring power… Which is going to be when?

At current power consumption rates, this ring will be fully discharged in fourteen minutes.

Fourteen minutes for the other Heavenly Guardians to come up with something. That should be-.

"My Lord Lantern?"

Harm-? "Harmonious One?"

"Have you won?"

"No. I'm just suppressing his desires. If you attack him now-."

"He'd revert to a pre-attack state and cut us to pieces."

Ah. "So… Is there a plan?"

"Sort of. It's a bit of a work in progress. How long will it take after you stop suppressing him for him to start caring about things again?"

"It.. varies. He'll revert pretty much immediately, but people don't tend to reflect on their own thought processes. He'll probably justify his lack of interest in me to himself rather than be immediately alarmed. On the other hand, I don't understand why he hasn't killed me already. He might just decide to.. immediately change time so that I'm back here because… Why not?"

"We -which is to say the Guardians- have a plan. And due to the unusual temporal arrangements you and Mr Truggs are the only people who can carry it out."

"What is it?"

"Go back in time and prevent Vandal Savage returning to the present. As long as the Night of Stone Knives still happens, our history should still occur. We may even be able to return you to the present."

"You have a time machine?"

"No, but… We think we can reopen the passage Savage used. And-."

"Don't worry about bringing me back. I can just put myself in suspended animation." Or get off Earth. Not like I was planning on dying ever anyway.

"That isn't the problem. Once Savage is dealt with we will have effectively unlimited time to work on the problem. The problem is our chronal collapse. Is Savage aware of it?"

"Yes. He told me that he thinks his armour will allow him to control how the time lines merge while keeping him as he is. He also said that the purple figure-."

"Was a future version of him. Yes, we worked that out. Okay, look: I don't understand everything that the hat told me. Controlling the merger.. might work, depending on exactly what the armour does. But part of why it might work is because after.. being violently altered, time is… More accepting of smaller changes. And pretty much anything is smaller than what happened."

"So as long as Savage makes it more like how it was, it might be stable?"

"At this point we're pretty much throwing temporal mechanics at the wall to see what sticks. Maybe? The hat seems to think that living things are more important to time than unliving molecules, which doesn't seem to make much sense rationally…"

"So just switching in a new atmosphere and planetary core isn't an option."

"Probably not. Our best guess is that since both you and Truggs existed in the original time line, you'll be less disruptive, temporally speaking. Truggs has already been fully briefed. Are you ready?"

I take a deep breath. "Ready."

"Then by the power vested in me by the Lords of Chaos… Substitute."

24th October
11:43 GMT +3

And I'm back in the lab-

"Go! Go!"

-with Jade shouting at me and gesturing to a glowing and fluctuating purple portal. I fly for it, Truggs lunging through it just ahead of me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
11:44 GMT +3

I pass through the portal and out into-

Not sure
Don't know
Hopefully, 210 BC

-a large unlit chamber. Immediately, I dim my environmental shield and drop to the ground. The tomb is.. actually quite well-lit. For a tomb. I remember being taught during my 'cultural acclimatisation' classes that they used slow burning tallow candles in order to keep the place looking like an actual court for as long as possible after the First Emperor's death.

"Yah know, I've never actually done this before."

Mister Truggs is standing a couple of terracotta warriors over, and nods companionably to me when I look around. Then he unslings some sort of equipment harness and begins slotting parts together.

"Done what? Travelled in time?"

He glances up, a small frown on his face. "Don't take this the wrong way? You're a whole lot easier for me to work with than old-you, but I kinda miss him."

"Of course you do. He's the me you're used to. It would be strange if you didn't. Were.. the… Were you friends?" He shifts awkwardly as he makes a few final checks on his device. "Rivals?"

"We, ah… Both kinda want the same things… But we had… Kinda… Our 'red lines were in different p-."

"You're a supervillain."

"Technically, just a 'villain'. Hey, can you-" He holds his device up. "-power this up for me? It needs one point two one jigawatts of electrical energy."

Ring?

Device function not recognised.

I narrow my eyes slightly. "I'm going to need an explanation as to what that does. From the self-confessed criminal."

"It's… Just about the most badly built chroniton destabiliser it's possible to build. Guess Savage figured he didn't need it, with time collapsing anyway. Should keep him from seeing us from the future."

I nod and create a generator construct. "Is a 'jigawatt' the same as a gigawatt-?"

"Modern English is my sixth language. Excuse me if pronunciations have changed in the last eight hundred years."

I plug my construct in, and his device starts to glow purple and aquamarine as our entry portal evaporates. "Eight hundred years?"

"Yeah. Not my first time travelling in time. First time-" He checks a few things on the device and then nods, apparently satisfied. "-I came back to try an' prevent an alien invasion. Billions of people died so, I didn't think it mattered all that much that I was wiping everyone in that future out when I did it."

"I don't see anything wrong with preventing an alien invasion." I point at the destabiliser. "Is it working?"

"We're not back in the future, so I guess so." He sets the device down. "Now we gotta find Savage and Lao."

Ring, scan? Oh.. dear. "Lao is checking the walls for a way out. Savage isn't here yet. Do we need to turn that off?"

"If we do Super Savage gets us before we even turn it on."

"But won't.. your Savage realise that we're using that and just.. not come here?"

"It doesn't really matter if he does. Lao is the only guy who knows how to program the warriors. Savage has to get here before he dies, or this doesn't work. An' I don't think his equipment is good enough to detect it. And if he doesn't come back?" He shrugs. "I win by default."

"We're not here to erase my future, Mister Truggs."

"Ye-ah, we kinda are. See-."

"No. Everyone I know, everyone I love who.. isn't on Earth Prime is in that future. I can understand you-"

"It. Won't. Work."

"-wanting to bring back the version you know. And I'm sorry. There's no moral right here, but I'm the guy with the power ring and I'm not abandoning my future."

"IT WON'T WORK!" He takes a step back, then turns around, gesticulating with both arms. "Time WILL NOT SUSTAIN your future! The ONLY THING that hat could come up with was some kinda crazy guess-"

"That's not-"

"-about taking you-"

"-what they told me."

"-out of time. And of course they didn't tell you, you're an Orange Lantern." He pulls out a scroll bearing Jade's seal. "Here."

I hesitate for a moment, then take it from him and open it.

"Hello? Is there someone else in here?"

Oh… This was really the best we could..?

I feel Truggs pat me on the right shoulder as I stare at the letter. "The hat thought it was the only chance you got."

"I just…" Well. What is there to say? "I suppose there really isn't any choice. It was just… Wishful thinking."

Truggs shrugs. "I don't know you, but the other guy was a real terrier when it came to things like this. If you're him-."

"Hello?" Mr Lao comes around the corner and spots us. He starts slightly, but I can practically see the moment he decides that men who have been buried alive can't be choosers. "Were you part of the digging team?"

Temporal aperture detected.

"Mr Lao, I'm very sorry." I attach a filament to Mr Truggs and transition us both to Savage's time portal.

"Who-?"

Disintegrate.

The orange energy bolt hits him in the centre of his chest and spreads outwards, destroying every cell of his body as it does so. That won't guarantee that he's dead permanently, but if throwing him into the sun worked for my Savage I imagine that it will work for now.

Then Truggs and I walk through the portal.

Ring, time and date?

19th October
09:12 GMT -6

"You are not Savage."

Truggs immediately goes over to the machine's control system and begins pressing buttons. I just look up at the purple robed figure staring down at me.

"I'm not."

"He failed, then. Just as I remember it."

"You've probably cost me everything. Even if this was the only way…"

"It was." The figure reaches into his robes and pulls out a duplicate-. No, the same scroll as the one I'm still carrying. "And I assure you, I hate it just as much as you do." Then he pushes back his hood and I'm not surprised by who I see. "I suppose we're our own worst enemy." He looks away from me. "Mister Truggs, you'll need the chronal suspension system."

 

[Mr Zoat]

A short 'time' later

From this point of view, it's painfully clear.

"You know me?"

Jevek Jos Jar studied temporal manipulation, and somehow cut himself off from his own past. In doing so he became the Time Trapper, and after 'I' recognised him he decided to try and improve Earth's technology in order to try and increase his -and the other Controllers'- power during my era.

In doing so, he created a time line where Savage cut himself off from his own past and became the Time Trapper. He contacted his past self to increase his power. Whether he created himself or not was immaterial as he'd win either way.

Except that we managed to replace him with me. So now, I was the one who passed temporal manipulation technology to Savage. And I did it because it was the only way to have even the slightest chance to save my time line.

Creating time lines is expensive. Creating closed time loops is cheap.

"Yes?" My other-self inclines his head slightly. "We met on Maltus. Though that may not have happened in your personal timeline. I suppose that if anyone was going to survive the collapse of time it would be the people who beat the Anti-Mon-."

I raise my arms, pointing them at his cell. "Return!"

My arms pointing don't actually have anything to do with my new abilities. It's more the fact that I don't have my own… Place in time, combined with the fact that I'm in a place that doesn't either. I can push on time, but it can't push back. He goes back to his time line.

"Ah, hey-."

I gesture again and Truggs goes back into my time line. His future self has already returned to an earlier point in the original time line in order to give my alternate self the information he needs to get this far. There will be two Truggs for a little while, but the one who experienced four days of my Earth remembers enough to avoid himself. And he'll send copies of anything he learns about temporal manipulation to me.

"Where did you send them?"

Dox isn't panicking, but he's more than a little peeved. Savage Trapper never interacted with him… I think. I'm still having a little trouble getting my head around how this works. Jevek Trapper dealt with him because it allowed him to pretend he wasn't the one causing the problem. And watching a level twelve intellect in action is often informative.

I could respond with something ominous and portentous, but out of all of the iterations of the Time Trapper who are now all me, none of them had that sort of relationship with the Legion. The Time Trapper is not a figure of respect. And for very good reasons.

"I have resolved the anomaly and undone the alterations Vandal Savage made to the time line. Your present is largely restored. You may return to your time sphere."

Dox's jaw tenses. "If you knew what the cause of the disruption was, why did you not simply tell us when we arrived?"

"I thought that perhaps seeing you flail around in ignorance might provide me with some amusement." I turn away. "I overestimated your intelligence. Do not trouble me again."

"Now hold on-."

I move myself to the exterior of Vanishing Point and stare out into the time stream. Its ebbs and flows are the only things which make my cloak move, causing it to waft around my legs. I reach up and pull my hood a little tighter around my head. The Legion should be leaving shortly and it would be rather embarrassing if they looked back and saw my face.

Then I reach across to my left hand with my right, pull off my power ring and send it back into the past. One less contradiction. And… Yes, I feel time become a little more flexible.

I hold out my right hand and summon back my universe. Four days. Maintaining a cycle of four days… It continues to exist on a permanent loop, cut off from the regular flow of time. Until I.. run out of flexibility, or find a better solution.

There'll be leakages, of course. I don't know exactly how 'long' it will take, but people all across that universe will gradually begin to experience flashes of déjà vu from the constant repetition. And they'll try to change things. And that will consume more power. I've got a definite limit to the amount of time I have to fix this problem. And though I can interact with time in ways which make it possible for me to communicate with others, I can't physically leave Vanishing Point myself. If I do, I'd have to pay the cost for my own broken time line or I'd… Heh, turn out not to have been me after all.

And like some sort of time travelling pyramid scheme, the only way to create temporal flexibility is to create alternate time lines and then revert them. I'm going to have to create and then render nonexistent entire universes of people. And if any of my agents realise what I'm doing, they might switch sides and I might turn out not to have been me all along. Does the fact that I'm here, now, thinking about this mean that I win, or is it..?

Hopefully the fact that I won't have to interact with those time lines to any significant degree will mean that I won't-.

…

Dox will have left monitoring equipment of some sort. I'll pretend that I don't know it's there. Having offended him, he'll work extra hard to revert any changes I make, allowing me to realise their value without spending flexibility to act in two places at once. A man who will come to think of himself as the only thing between me and a universe of temporal anarchy I'm creating for my own amusement will in fact be my greatest asset.

In the universe swirling over my left hand, Jade looks back at my still-sleeping temporal echo and then walks towards the shower. On the other side of the planet Jade twitches in her sleep, combat stress from a mission working itself out in her dreams. Harmonious One sleeps on his ceiling, his hat tipping itself to me as I look.

In Vega, Commodore Amalak puts his Tamaranian recruits through their paces while the Citadelians pull back to their fortifications. On Oa, the Guardians studiously avoid indicating their awareness of my presence as they once again review my message. On Urrigen, the provisional government continues its production of orbital defences. On Maltus, the recruits train under Hinon's watchful eyes.

It's not better or worse than any other timeline.

But it's mine. And this…

It's all I can do.

22nd October
01:30 GMT -5

Yeah, there's no point in hanging around. For once I'm reasonably in agreement with the League 'don't interfere' policy. I don't have anything special to add and every time I try and get my head around time travel I just end up thinking in circles. I pass out through the outer wall of the Hall of Justice and come to a-.

Uwwough.

To a stop. Ugh, what was-?

I look across the plaza at the cluster of four-.

Oh. No one there. Could have sworn...

Never mind. Must be more tired and stressed than I thought if I'm hallucinating and getting dizzy. And faster than light travel and unclear thought processes don't mix. 'Home' is Alan's house, but it's half one in the morning. He wouldn't have waited up, would he? I'd have said 'not', but I thought that about my parents once and they started phoning the hospital and police to find out if my body had been handed in at accident and emergency. I activate my armour's flight system and rise higher, turning in the direction of the nearest intact zeta tube. My interview is tomorrow evening and I'm.. going to need to have the ring reset my circadian rhythms if I'm going to get any sleep. And then Ms Colbert's practice session tomorrow afternoon -assuming that she isn't busy explaining this mess- and I need to speak to Angelica…

But for now, home and sleep.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Embattled

23rd October
21:03 GMT -5

There's a noticeably different feel to the audience than last time I was on Ms Manning's show. For one thing, there aren't any empty seats in the audience. For another, she looks much less happy with me. To an actual journalist, the fact that I've been uncharacteristically unhelpful to anyone asking me questions must have been a bit obvious; I mean, even Dana worked it out.

Or.. maybe it's because I went on Ms Grant's show first.

But, now is the time to be totally-

"Orange Lantern, my first question is fairly obvious. There's been a lot of speculation online and in the press about exactly what sort of fruit you might have stolen to draw an angel's attention. The obvious possibility is that you stole an apple from the Garden of Eden-"

-honest.

"-and unlikely as that-"

I raise my right hand slightly. "Ah?"

"-seems…" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yes, that's exactly where I took it from." There's a sharp intake of breath from the audience. And a lot fewer smiles. "Though I should point out that they're not apples. They're pomegranates. I entered the Garden of Eden uninvited and stole a fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. I did this with the intention of feeding it to a demon in an attempt to give her the ability to make moral decisions rather than act in a purely malevolent way."

"Ah-" She blinks, but swiftly recovers "-and did it work?"

"It.. appears to have done so. Testing is in the early stages, and we don't really have anything to compare it to. The subject is.. more than a little traumatised." I shrug. "She only just gained the capacity to feel guilt and she's got a lot to feel-"

"God damn you!" / "You call yourself a hero?!"

"-guilty about."

"That angel should of burned you!"

Ms Manning turns towards the audience as an increasing number rise to their feet, shouting. "Please. I understand-."

"-lesbian whores like Sodom and Gomorrah!"

"I understand that you're upset, but-."

The shouting continues, and Ms Manning's eyes dart towards the bouncers. I glance down, shaking my head slightly. Then I generate a construct above our heads showing the words 'You have questions. I can't answer them if you keep shouting over me. Silencing in 5.'

Some quieten down, and some of them even sit back down. The rest… I suppose that 'heretic scum' is fair enough, and I am mildly impressed that they knew the word 'heretic', but… Gosh, I hadn't realised that people were still prepared to say things like that about Themyscira.

But the 5 ticks down to 1, and I generate sound deadening constructs on either side of the seating area and activate them. The noise drops off immediately, then dies almost completely as I fine tune the area effect.

"I'm sorry about that. Feel free to shout at me on your own time, but stop ruining it for everyone else. But if I-" I glance at Ms Manning. "-can treat some of those as actual questions?"

"You may as well."

"O-kay. You, madam." I point the first respondent out. "As I've repeatedly stated, I'm a Hellenist. So… Jehovah's opinion on the subject doesn't matter to me. I have physically entered Erebos while still alive. I know where my soul is going, and I don't regard the Silver City as the highest authority on morality. It is quite possible that if I went before the angels for judgement that I would indeed be damned. Fortunately, that will never happen."

"In answer to you sir-" The second respondent. "-while I have used the term 'superhero' to describe myself, I use it in the sense of being an altruistic costumed vigilante, not in the sense of being someone everyone should admire. And yes, while I did steal the fruit, I was giving it to someone else for their benefit and so it was an act of altruism. I quite understand if you think I should have acted differently; I just disagree."

I turn towards the third shouter. "Zauriel didn't appear interested in harming anyone who wasn't literally a demon. He was shocked and confused at what I'd done, yes, but at no point did he become angry. Please understand that 'turning the other cheek' and 'letting he who is without sin cast the first stone' weren't metaphors, but literal instructions on how Christians should conduct themselves. Demanding that holy agents kill someone is something which you are not supposed to do. What you're supposed to do is what Zauriel tried to do, which was gently and rationally persuade me that I have sinned and try and get me to change my ways. And I'm going to be more inclined to listen to him and to everyone who didn't start shouting at me than I am to you."

"I'm afraid the shouting got a little blurred together-" Just about everyone has sat back down, though a red-faced hardcore are trying to shout over the suppression system. "-but if I can address your… Point, madam. Themyscira doesn't exactly have a currency any longer. They used to, but the island has finite amounts of metal and… Well, for various reasons it just didn't make sense to.. keep using it. As such, there isn't any prostitution, because there isn't any point in making an exchange. And while there are residents who are.. open minded about sex, at this point just about everyone has settled down into stable relationships. Your description of them as 'lesbian' is inaccurate, as only a few have ever spent any time on Lesbos. Though obviously their sexual and romantic relations are almost exclusively with other women."

"And the angel who murdered the populations of Sodom and Gomorrah has been dealt with." I turn back to Ms Manning. "I'm sorry. Please carry on."

She takes a moment before carrying on. "I'm sure a lot of our viewers at home will be thinking that what you've said in.. previous interviews was somewhat misleading. The pomegranate you stole was a fruit, but it's also quite a bit more than that."

"Yes, I was deliberately misleading everyone."

"Why? You were perfectly happy to tell us now. What changed in the past few days?"

"No, this.. was always planned. I wanted people to have time to think about.. under what circumstances they'd consider it legitimate to steal a fruit, without prejudging the issue because it was their fruit."

"The fruit belonged to God."

"Yes, and I've never disputed the fact that I stole it. But as I see it… You can't steal from an omnipotent, omniscient being who wants to stop you, simply because they know and you can't overpower them. So -assuming Jehovah has those characteristics- either he wanted me to do it or flat out didn't care. Because any other position would have resulted in it not happening."

"What I meant was that you're treating stealing from God the same as stealing from anyone else."

"No, I'm treating it far less seriously. Jehovah is the only being who might be considered to own things who can effortlessly replace any of them. Therefore, stealing from him is less significant than stealing from someone who has to work for it."

"If you're confessing to theft, should we hold you here until the police arrive?"

"Um. There are questions to which I'll plead the fifth, but I don't mind being questioned by the police. The problem is, no complaint has been made to the police and very few people know to which police force such a complaint should be made. As such, unless an angel makes a complaint or I'm called to appear before a panel of archangels, it's unlikely that any proceedings could be initiated."

"What police force should the complaint be made to?"

"That's not entirely clear." Maybe the Law Enforcement Force of the Islamic Republic of Iran, but a reasonable argument could be made that it's extraterritorial. They might be able to get me on transporting stolen goods, though. "And I can't tell anyone without revealing how I got into Eden."

"What's wrong with that? If it's fine for you to go there, why shouldn't.. I.. have that opportunity?"

"Because while one person fishing in a lake isn't a problem, a thousand people doing it kills all of the fish. I had a good, mission-related reason for going there and I spent no more time there than I had to. Why do you want to go?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

23rd October
21:17 GMT -5

Not caring what people think is its own reward. The audience shouting at me? I'm honestly surprised that doesn't happen more. I certainly wasn't expecting a mostly Christian crowd here in order to hear more about the divinity they revere to react with anything other than shock and outrage.

This, on the other hand…

Father Mattias leans slightly towards me. "Why did you not simply ask for help?"

"Is the Catholic Church in routine, direct, two way contact with the Silver City?"

"Not.. in the way which you mean, no."

"The only people I know of for certain who were were the late elders of the Resurrection Crusade. They're dead, and while it's possible that the rump of the organisation might know how to repeat the process I doubt very much that they'd help me with it. Your Church might be able to work something out. Maybe. If the Silver City was willing to help, which it hasn't shown any sign of doing to date. And them saying 'no' would have been worse, because then they'd have been on their guard."

"And if they'd said 'yes'?"

I bite down my initial 'then why didn't they say 'yes' to any of the people who asked after Fawcett City?' response.

"Then I haven't done anything they wouldn't have done. And I'm not stopping them handing over more pomegranates. Or empowering a warrior saint or two. Nothing so far."

Mattias shakes his head. "I cannot accept that they would have refused an open dialogue."

"You're welcome to try that approach. I wish you all the best. Let me know how it goes. Though given what happened last time, it might be best if you don't try it in a built-up area."

"Did the attitude of Zauriel not convince you that that was an isolated incident?"

"It left me open to the possibility that it might have been. Up until that point, every contact I'd had direct information on suggested that the Silver City was… Neglectful, if not outright hostile."

"Oh?" Mattias raises his eyebrows. "And what other contacts were those?"

"Hell exists. I've visited, and seen the results of open portals on several occasions. The Hellenistic gods are selfish and capricious but even they think that eternal torment is a bit much. Then you've got the aforementioned Sodom and Gomorrah-."

Ms Manning's eyes widen as she makes the connection. "What exactly did you mean when you said that the angel responsible for that had been 'dealt with'?"

"Well, it wasn't… Because of that. But he got seduced by a succubus, who.. tore out his heart. Then he was recalled to the Silver City, cast out and his wings cut off with a chainsaw so that no one would know what he was. He was left like that for a few months, then the First of the Fallen found out where his heart was, had him lick his shoes clean, then crushed his heart and sent him to hell. Where -given what Zauriel said on the subject- I assume he still is."

Mattias' face droops slightly, then freezes in place. Ms Manning glances at him to see if he wants to respond and spots his paralysis. Her eyes dart to the side for a moment as she tries to come up with a sensible response.

"What did.. Zauriel say on the subject?"

"Ring."

"I had no idea that you had sought Gabriel's assistance in this matter. If he has achieved redemption, why did he not simply request the use of the fruit? He had the authority."

"He was sent to a place of punishment to be chastised for his crimes."

Ms Manning's eyes narrow. "That wasn't part of the recording you played on 'Good Morning America'."

"I did say that I'd redacted parts. I was concerned that if our latest anti-demon weapon wasn't fully operational we might get rushed before we were ready to deal with an attack. Now that she's-" More or less. "-in fine smiting form, that's less of an issue. She also isn't in the KordTech building any longer."

"'She'? Do you mean your new weapon is a person, or are you just being poetic?"

"A person. A quasi-demonic person, to be a little more precise. Her demonic heritage made her incapable of morality, so I gave her a fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil to correct that." Ring?

"Do you understand what you have done? You have enabled a being inherently outside God's grace to come within it."

"…this was not merely a vainglorious, hubristic claim. You managed it, and committed only minor sins in the commission."

"So that we're totally clear, Zauriel was visibly impressed by what we did and didn't consider any part of it to be a major sin."

"But, a person. What exactly did you do? Did the fruit give her magical abilities?"

"Ah, no, I don't think so. But we did need her to get some, so… Since he wasn't using them any longer we grafted Gabriel's wings onto her, granting her access to theurgy."

Mattias looks shocked. "That is possible?"

"Ah, it wasn't easy, but yes, it was possible. Would you like to meet her?"

Hm. Reminds me a little of a documentary I saw about early in vitro fertilisation experiments. There was an anti-abortion campaigner interviewed who objected to the fact that a large number of zygotes were destroyed for every one implanted… Which -to be fair- was pretty consistent of them. The problem they had was that it was an academic theological concern as far as most people were concerned, and even they had to admit that they lost all public traction once the doctor running the project held a press conference with the new parents and their offspring. Actual babies versus invisible cell cultures? No contest.

"Is sh-?" Ms Manning glances out at the audience.

"Oh… No. But it's easy to call on her." I take a small signal charm out of subspace. "Should I..?"

Ms Manning doesn't look certain, but Mattias nods definitively. "Yes. Please. I would like to meet this woman who may now enter into God's grace."

"Very well." I snap the charm in two, then toss it a short distance across the stage. There shouldn't be any problem with-.

Gold-white flames flare up from where it lands, rising into an approximately humanoid figure before vanishing. In its place stands B-. Stands Angelica, modestly dressed in business trousers and a soft blue roll neck jumper. With two large white wings sticking out through the back. It doesn't have wing holes exactly; the sheer size of the wings made that impractical. Instead, it has two slits which button up at the bottom. Her skin tanned, her hair remained black and her horns have shrunk to a more lintel-friendly length.

She smiles a little nervously at the audience, clasps her hands demurely at her stomach and gives them a shallow bow. "Hello. My name is Angelica. I'm very pleased to meet you all."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
10:22 GMT -7

"Hm." Circe looks critically at the exterior of the empty warehouse. "And you're sure that the San Francisco City zoning board won't have any objections to us having it torn down?"

"No ma'am." The helpful fellow from the estate agent -who have been trying to get this place off their books since Eldon Peck was discovered to have killed nineteen homeless people and over four hundred rats here during the seventies- shakes his head. "We checked, and they say they'll be happy just to have someone using it again. You said you wanted to build a private school here?"

"Yes. Adult education and…" She glances at me. "We'll be competing for a few government contracts as well."

Both Sam and Director Armstrong were quite interested in getting some of their own people educated in the arcane arts. Sam's enthusiasm fell off somewhat once he found out exactly how long it takes to get a person with no magic knowledge to the level of 'competent practitioner', but Katarina essentially just wants a programme for giving agents a very basic level of knowledge and Circe could teach that course in a couple of weeks. Of course, what we really need is primary education, because training archmages starts in toddlerhood… But we can move onto that after establishing a brand.

"Then it won't even need to be rezoned. We can apply for the permits you need and get a team in to start breaking ground within a week of receiving your deposit."

Circe smiles at the man. "Very efficient. Now-."

"Though.. I'm…" He looks a good deal less enthusiastic. "I'm obligated to point out that while.. we're happy to provide an indemnity against any part of the plans being inaccurate, Notus Realtors can't accept any responsibility for.. any.. magic related incidents. Now, there haven't been any since Sargon the Sorcerer took Brother Night down in the seventies, but we've got no way to know for sure that's going to keep on being the case."

Circe smiles brightly. "Oh, that's not a problem. I wouldn't be opening a magic school if I couldn't handle a few small malevolent influences, would I?"

"Ah…" The estate agent… I think he said his name was Chuck..? I wasn't really paying attention. He nods with the air of a man who knows that his quarterly bonus relies on him indulging a crazy person without skipping anything he's legally obliged to do. "I'll take your word for that, ma'am. Would you.. like to take a look inside?"

"Oh, please. Call me 'Larissa'." Circe turns her head back towards the warehouse. "If I'm going to be knocking it down anyway there doesn't really seem to be much point. Will there be any difficulty in cutting water and power to the lot when we start the building work?"

"No, though you'll probably need to improve both if you're building a school of any sort of size."

She nods. "I thought as much. I'll be hiring a firm of professional architects for the design work."

Probably-Chuck nods. "Of course. There are a few local firms our clients have worked with before, but if you've got someone… In mind? I don't know what sorts of… Special requirements a magic school would have."

"Oh... None, really. I did briefly consider including a fortified room for the more capable students, but I really don't think that sort of thing would be safe in a built up area."

"Ah… Explosives.. require specialist storage facilities and licenses. I'm not sure-."

"No no." Circe shakes her head. "For conjuring."

"Oh. Well, I don't think there are any laws about that, but I'm sure that your neighbours would appreciate it. Is there anywhere else you want to see?"

"No, thank you, I think that's everything."

He nods. "You want me to call you a cab?"

"No, thank you. I think we'll have a walk around the area, get a bit of a feel for it."

Chuck nods again, and the two of them head towards the gate. "Well, you've got my card. If you need any more information, just give me a call."

Adom and I follow on behind them, coming out to allow Chuck to lock the heavy padlock across the complex gates. This is Circe's show, of course. I'm just here to prevent awkward… How to put it? Miscommunications between the ancient sorceress and the modern world. Adom is here because he needs to get out more and meet people.

I'm using a bound illusion spell to look like a regular human. Circe's assumed a new and less recognisable face, while Adom…

We were eventually able to persuade Adom to wear civilian clothing in place of the Apokoliptian armour of my design that he's taken to wearing. His preferred civilian clothing consists of a short kilt, some jewellery and quite a lot of eye liner, a discovery which caused Sunset's cheeks to stay red for the rest of the day. Here, wearing jeans and a hoodie he looks about as comfortable as a career undertaker wearing a tutu. A combination of his height, obvious musculature and the total confidence with which he carries himself has resulted in people giving us a wide berth on our walk through the city.

"Was the site to your satisfaction?"

Circe smiles up at Adom, her current form being considerably shorter than his. "It will do. One plot of land is much like another."

"You do not need to perform divinings to locate an auspicious location?"

"Not at my power level. Maybe if I was building a home for myself or a fortress, but a school for neophytes requires far less preparation."

"And the results of the evil magician's murderous magics?"

"There's some sort of rat elemental.. thing, lurking in the ground. I'll either bind it to me or destroy it before the surveyors go in."

I raise my eyebrows. "You've decided, then."

She nods. "This was a formality, really. After finally getting Mister Constantine to agree to a residency-" I stayed well in the background during that meeting. "-I have all of the teaching staff prepared and I'm eager to start pulling my weight."

Adom's shoulders tense slightly. "I would also like to start pulling my weight. I have learned Kahndaq's history, my Arabic is flawless, and the iniquity there is far worse than it is in your country."

"Exactly. Kahndaq requires so much more work than Britain. Modern nations are far worse at coping with chaos than ancient ones, and in Britain we can leave most of the government structures in place and just change the officials. But you were pretty clear-."

"Such monsters deserve death."

"I'm not arguing the point. But are your plans fully ready?"

He exhales heavily. "They are not, as yet. Mister Luthor's spies have-."

"'Corporate intelligence.'"

"Spies have provided me with a reasonable picture of the state of my country. I wish to start using genomorphs for more aggressive information acquisition."

"Not a problem. We can transfer a lot of them over to Kahndaq operations once the British side goes operational. Though -and I do want to be clear about this-."

"I know that being too obvious puts future operations at risk. I will control my wrath."

"Control it for now. You'll have the opportunity to unleash it in full in time."

He grunts a quiet acknowledgement. "Madam C-. Madam Larissa."

"I do like the way you make it sound."

"What are your plans for the remainder of the day?"

"I'm looking at residential properties. Something a small businesswoman like 'myself' might rent or own. What about you?"

"An economics lecture. International finance and trade is considerably more complex than it once was."

"No ruler can do everything, Adom."

"The rulers of Kahndaq have not covered themselves in honour. While I am fully aware that I cannot perform all of the offices of government by myself, I need to be able to know that those who claim to serve the interests of Kahndaq are truly doing so. To do that, I must be able to understand it."

"A noble endeavour. I hope the Kahndaqis are worth it."

"If they are not, their children or grandchildren will be. If they are not, the fault is mine."

"Ooh, portentous. Grayven, what are you up to?"

"Entertaining my brother and sister in law. I think it's time I clued the Justice League in to what we're doing in Britain."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th October
13:43 GMT -6

I purse my lips as I watch Barda and Knockout glower at each other. Dominate! / Dominate!

Scott gives a quiet sigh. "I can't say you didn't warn me." Barda, honey, we're trying to do the human thing here. That means no maiming.

"Yeah. I never really had much to do with the Furies on.. Apokolips…" Ugh, no, it's no good. "Why don't the two of you take a look at our sparring arena? Knockout, would you be so good as to escort-?"

Knockout turns away from Barda and strides down the corridor. "This way." "Follow in my footsteps, weak-willed bitch-cow."

"I'm sure it's delightful." "You will whimper and beg for more as I choke the life from you, my sub."

Scott and I stand there in companionable silence as they disappear from view. "You know, I'm actually impressed how level headed Barda's being about the whole thing. She's really come a long way since we left Apokolips."

"Love is a wonderful thing." Scott nods, smiling. "Until-."

I clamp down on the thought, but Scott's already noticed. "You still okay? The.. Anti-Life fragment giving you any trouble?"

"No-. Well, not more. This is just… Normal post-relationship… Absence."

"No new Missus Grayven on the horizon? I'm a little surprised that Ghia'ta hasn't tried to set you up with someone." He looks around as we head towards the living room. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Trying to get Harold Jordan and Carol Ferris back together." I push open the door and lead the way inside. "Ms Ferris found having a Zamaron who wasn't trying to turn her into a lunatic warrior queen decidedly strange. But I'd like to-."

"Uncle Scott!" Lynne smiles as she stands and then bounds across the room to embrace him.

Scott hugs her back, smile widening as he does so. "Hey, Lynne. How's school going?"

"It's okay. And-" She pulls away, half turning to.. the empty space next to where she was sitting. "-this is Cassan.. dra…"

Cassandra relocated herself as soon as the door started to open, and is now crouched behind the settee to my right. I hold up my hands to a convenient height for her to see. "Cassandra, this is Escape Man. He is safe."

Her eyes and the top of her head appear to be reserving judgement.

"'Escape Man'?" Scott turns and spots Cassandra studying him intensely. Then he notices my hands and raises his own. "You can sign 'Completely Free'."

"I'm trying to make sure that all the names I try to teach her have the same structure." I take a few steps away and sit in my chair. "She'll come out when she has a better read on you."

Scott nods, and slowly walks towards the settee she's hiding behind to give her plenty of time to back away. Once he reaches it, he turns around and sits down. "Picked up another daughter?"

"I intended to give you and Barda first refusal, actually. But otherwise, y-."

"Wait, wait. 'First refusal'? I don't think that's how children work."

Lynne tries to persuade Cassandra to come out through the pantomiming of beckoning and friendly smiles. Cassandra shifts her eyes to Lynne for a moment, then dismisses her and goes back to watching Scott.

"She needs a primary caregiver or two. I already killed her natural parents. I'm happy to adopt her myself, but I'm concerned that I've already taken on more children than I can give enough attention to. You told me when I asked that you and Barda had discussed the subject-."

"Yeah, then you told us Darkseid paid you a visit." He give me a serious look. "When you say you killed her parents..?"

"David Cain and Sandra Wu-San." Mean Teacher Man and Crazy Fight Woman. "The point being, as a result of her father deciding that she'd be able to fight better without the ability to comprehend language, she has a series of very special needs and could probably benefit from a lot more one to one care than it will be entirely practical for me to give."

"Without…" "I don't think even Granny tried that."

Lynne gives up and plonks herself down on my lap. I put my hands around her stomach and pull her fully aboard before letting go and resuming the sign language pose. "Like I said. She can read body language really well, but actually talking or reading isn't something she can do. I'm trying to teach her sign language… British, not American." Scott jokingly clenches his fists for a moment, then shrugs. Well. I was a little surprised that he knew ASL. "Because it should be possible for her to understand-" He gives me an odd look. "-it… What?"

"Oh, I'm just waiting for the roundabout to go with this sw-."

"I'm going to overthrow the government of Britain and execute most of its ruling caste."

"-ing and there we go." He looks more amused than concerned. "And why would you do a thing like that?"

"Because they're super… Bad..?" Hm. "I mean, by Apokoliptian standards it barely registers, but by Human standards, they're.. like… The fastest snails in the garden? And they're running a modern country which would loathe their behaviour." I take a large binder out of subspace next to him. "Take a look."

He looks at the folder, drumming the fingers of his right hand on it for a moment before having his multi-cube miniaturise and store it. "I don't think you'd bother doing something like this if there wasn't something in your accusation. But I don't really understand why you're telling me." "Just another place to conquer, Conquest?"

"After the whole Anti-Life.. thing… I've tried to involve you in my life more." I jiggle my legs up and down. "Lynne's too. And I need someone to brief the Justice League before my targets start bleating about being attacked by supervillains."

"In point of fact: you do employ supervillains."

After years of working loyally for the British government, the Blacks weren't even slightly surprised by how quickly they were disavowed. Though Vera was a little surprised by how much about what they'd done the Home Office was prepared to put into the public domain. I was too. I mean, sure, they tried saying it was all done on their own initiative but I don't think anyone really believed it. Jon certainly didn't.

"I'm a confessed murderer. I can hardly throw stones."

"You got pardoned, Dad."

"I'm pretty sure it still counts. Anyway, yeah, supervillains, buuuuut most of that is pretty subjective and I'm handing the only one whose villainy isn't subjective over to Knockout for Apokoliptian-style training." I smile cruelly. "After a few months I suspect that a nice quick lethal injection will start to look rather appealing."

Lynne turns her head around and whoops. "No Anti-Life involved. Intense physical conditioning only. I'm not planning anything like what-" She looks down, nodding. "-they did to you."

"And what happens afterwards?"

"Planned for that. Back of the folder. We've made plans to tide the government over until new elections can be held. Get.. Batman to have a look at it, would you? Probably a bit late to make any radical changes, but I don't mind taking advice."

"And exactly how long do we have to think about this?"

"About a month. We're moving the people we're not targeting into a secure location before we start anything."

"Great. Great. Thanks Grayv-" He glances left, where Cassandra is now staring at him from the next seat. "-en. And you're a sneaky one, aren't you?"

'Quiet Girl.'

"Yeah, that too." He returns his attention to me. "Kinda surprised we're not getting a repeat of last time. You not going to show up on the Watchtower to give us a lecture in person this time?"

"I think I made my point. Sometimes I think I'm better off not getting into people's faces in person."

He stares at me for a moment. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:02 GMT

I tilt my newspaper to the side as I hear the front door open. Ah, good, she's back.

"Derek? Are you in?"

No, Derek is out, moved to a secure location through the judicious application of genomorph telepathy and g-elf muscle. Given what some of the Masons' inner circle can do I am convinced that leaving close family in the capital is a bad idea.

I hear a sigh from the hall as the front door closes heavily. Two people in powerful, highly paid jobs can relate to one another far better than a megalopsychos with a trophy spouse, but the demands of the jobs can rather cut into their contact time. And with the children off at boarding school, coming home to an empty house is a fairly routine experience. A soft swoosh as she removes her coat, and a thud as she puts down her shoulder bag.

Then footsteps, heading towards the living room. She pushes open the door and reaches inside to turn the dimmer switch up a bit without actually looking at the huge grey man sitting across from her. She actually makes it three paces into the room before-

"WRUAAGH."

-jumping without her feet leaving the ground and then freezing.

"Madam Chairwoman. A pleasure to see you again."

"Why are you here, and where is my husband?"

"Your husband is in Castle Baaleskine, a Scottish castle recently recovered from the Home Office by an ally of mine. I'm not sure if you're in the loop on that particular affair? British superheroes invading Metropolis and targeting a school? One my daughter was attending?"

"O-oh God, you're actually doing it."

"No. Well. Sort of."

"Look, I-I don't know who organised that-."

"I'm afraid that it's somewhat immaterial now. Though I will say that it got right up Jon's nose, a friendly nation pulling something like that."

"Y-." She blinks. "The American government sent you?"

"No. Of course not. I'm doing this in my capacity as a superpowered alien warlor-. Sorry! Sorry. My capacity as a private citizen."

"I wasn't involved in that, and and and I-I assure you."

"Of course you weren't involved in that! If you were, we wouldn't be having a polite conversation right now. I'd.. either kill you or.. toss you into an oubliette somewhere. No. I'm here precisely because you weren't involved. Because you went to that club once, when you could have gone any number of times." I stand. "I can't quite bring myself to respect you, not when you had some idea what was happening and did nothing to stop it… But I think you might be salvaged."

"What, you want..? Information?"

"No. Why would I possibly want information from you when I employ thousands of telepaths?"

"That's a violation of anything remotely resembling due process of law."

I lean forward and down until I'm bent at right angles and my face is level with hers. "Ask me if I care."

"You-? The whole-?"

I grin. "The whole." Then I straighten back up. "I'm here to talk to you because I'm hoping that you'll agree to become Prime Minister during the transitional period. Seeing as how you are from the governing party, and the most senior MP we're not going to purge-. Did I say purge? I meant arrest."

"I'm-?" She shudders. "But… There are-."

"Yeah, things are pretty bad. News to you?"

"I knew-. Things were bad, that.. some." She looks me directly in the eyes. "All of them?"

"Oh, heck, that's just the MPs and Lords. By the time we move on to the senior civil servants and suchlike… Well. Don't expect to pass any primary legislation."

"That…"

"Look. Tomorrow, I'm going to put everything I have into the public domain. Tonight, all of the really dangerous people are going to be rendered 'safe', and a lot of the paedophile-cannibals are going to spend some time in a secure location until I'm sure that a trial can be arranged. You can either try and make sure that there's still a functioning country by the end of the week, or… The next guy on the list is Jeremy Corbin, and… Let's be honest, he's not one for running things."

"You want me to be your puppet? You want to.. take over the country, and you need someone to look like they're in charge so that the Justice League don't stop you? I'm not going to help you with that."

"Do you want those people gone or not?"

"Arrested, yes. If.. that can actually happen-."

"It can't under current judicial and constitutional arrangements, which is why I'm not. That, and the fact that according to my best estimates a third of them would be killed by the righteously indignant masses well before a trial could be arranged."

"Protective custody?"

"Protective… For the moment."

"We'll need to have elections."

"Scheduled for two months' time. I just need you to keep the country functioning until then. And… Legally speaking, with the Fixed Term Parliament Act, we'd need-."

"I-. Understand your reasons, but please don't joke about this. Whatever the outcome, Britain's credibility will be non-existent after you publicise… What you know. There'll be.. riots, our debt status will be junk-."

"And you'll have an honest government for the first time in generations. Most of the rest can be fixed in time."

"I hope it's worth it." She frowns slightly. "And what do you get out of it?"

I shrug. "All sorts of things. The only thing I actually asked for was a review of the Fiendstein case, but that isn't anything like of equal value. Mostly, I just want the planet I'm living on to work properly."

"And…" Something occurs to her. "Your brother is a member of the Justice League. You've already spoken to them."

"Sort of." I can't help but grin a little. By my reckoning two days was long enough for Batman to speed read through the entire thing and contact me with any glaring problems, but nothing like long enough for the League to come to a considered opinion. "They think I'm doing this next month."

She nods slowly, calming down a little. "I need to talk to a few people. Not everyone-."

"Already gathered together. I've had people working on this for some time. I just wanted to speak to you alone first so that you could get the shock out of your system."

"And you couldn't have just rang the doorbell?"

"And get spotted? Don't be daft. Also, I found it amusing. I mean, I'm not going to get to fight the people who tried to kill my daughter face to face, Apokoliptian style. I've got to get my jollies somewhere."

She's recovered enough to give me a contemptuous glare. Briefly. "Two months isn't enough time for this country to be properly ready for an election. With all of the major political parties in utter turmoil-."

"As if anyone with a shred of decency would vote for them now." I smile. "The nationalist parties won't be affected much. Some financial corruption only. But I've got an issue and a candidate and I'm prepared for this. I have no interest in Britain fragmenting. Out of the chaos I'm about to unleash there will come a new unifying force in British politics, already prepared and ready to go. How would you like to join the Reform Party?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:22 GMT

"Ladies and Gentlemen." I bring my hands together in a not-quite-clap. "Thank you for joining me."

And what a motley crew they are. Britain's… Well… Alright some of them qualify as superheroes. Sir Cyril's competent enough. Cornwall's got the power, if not the commitment. And I know very well that Ms Dolmann can do a person a lot of mischief when she's not being metaphorically sat on by a g-troll in an EMP-shielded location. The Rush Hour family I don't know well. Slower than Miss Amane, but still more than fast enough for most purposes.

But some of the rest…

Ugh. I wonder if my American colleagues feel this way about people like Mister America, or if they all instinctively take the costumed patriotism completely seriously? I look around at these care in the community living puns and it makes me embarrassed that in a world where just about any idiot can waltz into mid-tier superpowers this is the best my former country managed.

Just… Suck it up, Grayven.

"Well…" Sir Cyril pointedly looks at Ms Dolmann. "Not sure it was totally voluntary in all cases."

"She tried to kill me, my daughter and all of my daughter's schoolmates. You'll forgive me being a little cautious."

"Thought that was Tri-Man."

"When has Tri-Man ever built a robot? Or shown a tendency to do anything like that other than at the behest of his political masters? Telepathic interrogation of him and The Brain combined with exhaustive technical and arcane analysis of the remaining parts of the robots means that I've got a pretty good idea of who was responsible, but since only Mister Kelly and Mister Kipling knew everything that was going on and why I'm not going to hold… Much of a grudge."

"Is that what this is about? You're taking a crack at whoever it was who ordered it and you want our help?"

"No, no…" I shake my head. "I'm afraid-" You wouldn't be able to help significantly even if you wanted to. "-that it's a little beyond seeking redress." The door to my left opens and Cursitor Doom strolls in. A lot of people take a look, but only a few recognise him. The Blacks who follow him in get a more noticeable reaction. A couple of utter no-hopers rise to their feet, clenching their fists or grabbing hold of whatever juvenile joke-weapon they pulled from a leftover Christmas cracker this morning. The competent ones check the room and their distance from each other, no doubt preparing attack strategies.

Let's… Head that one off.

"I'm afraid that the attack on me wasn't simply the result of a panicking Ministry of Defence official or other bad egg. Rather, the problem, I'm afraid, is the entire henhouse." G-elves scurry around the room, depositing evidence files in front of each of our guests. "My colleague Geoffrey Talbot, formerly a Detective Chief-Inspector in the Metropolitan Police, assembled that over the last six months. In summary, virtually every member of the British government is heavily implicated in a rather unpleasant conspiracy. Those who are not are next door getting this talk from him. Crimes range from minor things like drug use and corrupt financial incentives all the way up to kidnapping, paedophilia, demon worship, murder and cannibalism."

Some kind of.. Punisher-looking guy mouths a silent 'you wot' at my pronouncement and grabs a binder before flicking through it at speed. Yes, that's why the pictures go at the front.

"Quite aside from the personal affront, this sort of destructive self-indulgence offends me professionally. So I thought that my friends and I should do something about it."

Sir Cyril raises his right gauntlet. "Hold on a mo'. Are you seriously trying to tell me that the British government is totally evil, and somehow no one noticed?"

"Plenty of people noticed. No one else had access to all of the pertinent facts required to put it all together, though some of you have tripped over the periphery. Or they were killed or otherwise.. removed from the scene. Mister Marrack, I'm afraid to say that your brother was fitted up."

Captain Cornwall's mouth falls slightly open for a moment. "Wha'?"

I point to his binder. "Page one hundred and eighty nine. There was an attempt to build an arcane weapon and summon a large elemental… All the phenomena you witnessed were side effects, nothing more. And certainly nothing to do with him."

Behind that stupid mask I'm sure that his face is a picture.

"I'd like to invite you all to take a read. Refreshments will be provided presently-" About a third are flicking through their binders now. "-but first I'd like to tell you why I'm letting you in on this."

Sir Cyril inclines his head slightly. "If you've got all these genomorphs working for you, you don't want us for muscle. What are you telling us for, then?"

"If I don't, there's a statistically significant chance that one or more of you might try stopping me. I'm reasonably confident that my people could take you down without causing lasting damage, but these.. 'people' don't deserve your support. And I don't particularly want the first thing the people of Britain hear about this to be that my people have been fighting the local-" Just say it. "-superheroes. It gives the wrong first impression."

Sir Cyril folds his arms across his chest. "What sort of fighting are we talking about?"

"In.. a.. couple of hours, I'll be sending squads after the-" I gesture to the binder sitting unopened besides him. "-most notable offenders. I have a facility set up to hold a substantial number of prisoners-" Sir Cyril's head jerks back slightly. "-and yes I do take prisoners, no need to be like that."

"You have got a bit of a reputation, Grayven."

"One which I've cultivated as a warning to the world's most powerful supervillains that I can and will use the required level of force against them. What I have not publicised are all of the people I've brought in relatively peacefully." After providing them with a change of trousers in most cases. "Almost everyone on our target list is either a baseline human or a minor magician. I doubt that I would have to use the same level of force to apprehend them that I would my higher profile targets."

"So you want us out of the way. How many-?"

There's a quiet bang as Rush Hour 2 finishes superspeed reading his binder. "You're targeting nearly every Member of Parliament!"

I nod. "I think it's best to make a clean sweep of things."

Sir Cyril regards me for a moment, then turns to his colleague. "Dennis? Is it a load of nonsense, or is he actually on to something?"

"I…" Rush Hour shakes his head, clearly shaken up. "It.. could…" He shakes his head again. "I recognise a lot of the names.. of.. people who went missing. For the rest… You'd need someone with more training in investigation than I have. But I don't think Mister Grayven would do this if he wasn't sure of himself."

Sir Cyril nods. "Cursitor?"

Mister Doom nods solemnly. "Regrettable though it is, Mister Grayven is quite correct. He and his people have conducted a detailed investigation, and I will personally vouch for the authenticity of their findings."

Sir Cyril draws himself up slightly. "Right then. Did you just want us to keep out of the way?"

"No. Ideally, I'd like some participation. Certainly, what's left of the Houses of Parliament would benefit from some friendly talking heads until an emergency election can be arranged. It is vitally important that-" The appearance of. "-democracy is preserved, and the worst thing that could happen is someone in the military trying to restore the deposed oligarchy."

"Before we agree to that, I want to see some of this myself."

I nod. "Acceptable. How many of you have heard of the Caligula Club?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:28 GMT

I raise my eyebrows slightly. "I do hope that doesn't throw out your schedule too much?"

"Hardly." Mr Near doesn't open his eyes as the Blue Danube Waltz plays in the background and the horns on the circle of g-gnomes glow brilliantly. "G-elves are already in place, and Miss Shimmer performed an easily-triggerable evocation to make sure that those within can't escape using teleportation yesterday."

I frown. "I'm not sure that g-elves are really the best sort of group for a place like the Caligula Club. Why not use Miss Savage's people?"

"Because I knew that you'd want to go there."

I.. suppose that's the service I'm paying for in hiring him, but I'm still a little concerned that I'm becoming that predictable. Especially considering that I only decided to do it two minutes ago. "How?"

"A trait common to both superheroes and Apokoliptians is a habit of pursuing direct confrontation with their adversaries. You were content to let others investigate and plan, but I judged it extremely unlikely that you would do the rational thing and stay out of the conflict zone entirely. There is no primary malefactor with whom you could engage; this is after all a wide scale operation. The entire ruling class has been compromised for an indeterminate period of time. Most likely therefore it is not the result of the actions of a single malevolent individual but rather the effect of privilege and corruption over a prolonged period of time."

"Thus, you are motivated to attack not an individual but a symbol of the thing you are trying to destroy. Downing Street was an option, but that would look too much like an attack on the government as a government. Buckingham Palace was an option, but you have acceded to my suggestions on how to handle that. Then there is Mister Kelly. Do you want a rematch, perhaps? Maybe."

"There were other possibilities until you decided that you wished to brief the local… Costumed curiosities yourself. Naturally, you see them as… 'Peers'. You want not merely to convince them contrary to their natural intuitions that you are correct, but also to see you as being in command. The only way to achieve that in a situation like this is to demonstrate that you are correct in the most visceral way possible. The binder would not be enough, not when they can't verify the contents for themselves."

"So where could you strike that would serve both your ego and your practical objectives? Only one place. You were always going to the Caligula Club. And so I planned accordingly."

Hadn't really.. thought about it.. like that… But when he spells it out like that, it sounds so obvious. I nod. "Well deduced. Is everything else ready?"

"Lantern Talbot has just signalled his readiness. We can begin whenever you like."

I nod. "Any sign that the League have noticed what we're doing?"

"Nothing overt." His face.. twitches a little. He does have a full range of facial movement, but I've yet to see him make a normal facial expression with it. I'm not sure if he's faking for his own amusement or if he fell out of the habit while in the nursing home. "But I've got g-gnome clusters watching them just in case."

"Good show." I put my right hand on the pommel of my daiklave… No. Rushed demon-summonings aside, there isn't going to be anything there that's a physical threat to me. I want as many of these people taken alive as possible. Not a situation for a large knife.. "Gravyen to everyone. Go."

The Sphere revs viciously, New God computer systems around her lighting up as scheduled broadcasts are interrupted and internet connections are misdirected. I want as many people as possible to know what is happening and -most importantly- why. I want people to wake up and pay attention-.

Starting to sound like Jenny Sparks there. Have to watch that.

"I'll leave this in your capable hands, Mister Near. Mother Box… Boom tube."

Ping.

Boom!

The ongoing waltz is momentarily drowned out by the roar of displaced air as the portal appears. Mother Box appears to have opened it on a pavement, and as I stride through I hear a couple of cars slam on their brakes.

And then I'm out into the London evening. Look left and right… Yep, what cars there are have stopped and the few passersby have pulled out their phones. Doorman's looking a little nervous. So he's got an idea of why I might be heading this way. Good. I cross the road at an amble, transfixing him with my eyes. Oh, Mother Box?

Ping.

Boom tube the rest of them in, would you?"

Ping.

Boom!

I'm already on the far side of the road before Sir Cyril strides through the tube, Punisher guy just behind him. The rest start coming through afterwards, marching like people going to the doctor for a diagnosis they already know to be terminal. No Squire or Cornwall Boy; I don't really think this one is going to be child friendly.

I smile brightly at the doorman as I step up onto the pavement. "Good evening."

"Ah… Evening, Mister Grayven. I'm, ah… Afraid this is a private members' club. If you want to leave your details-."

"Hahahahahaha!" My smile remains just as broad, but becomes somewhat less bright. "I'm-. Hah!" I shake my head. "This isn't a social call. This is a coup d'état. I'm not here to join; I'm here to distrain. So if you want to live-."

He's already pressing the switch on his radio. "Code red CODE FUCKING RED!"

I gently reach forward with my right hand and-. Ah. A faint aquamarine shimmer fills the air in front of me. My fingers touch it and.. can't advance beyond a certain point. Hardly surprising…

"Hah! Not so clever now-."

I pull back my right hand, clench it into a fist, then swing at the barrier. Fall Before My Might!

My fist strikes home and the barrier sworls away with a sound like wind blowing against high tension canvas, followed immediately by every window on the front of the building cracking. Still stopped my fist, mind. The doorman's eyes widen as I continue towards him, right hand wrapping itself around the left side of his torso.

I look down at him, and sigh loudly.

Then I gently shove him aside and head for the door. "Would one of you please arrest him?"

There'll be another barrier on the door, of course. But this time I don't make a fist. I just open my hand and push. You Have Offended Me!

This time it's the stone around the door which cracks, and the door goes flying into the building. I don't even flinch as the shotgun rounds strike my chest with all the force of a kitten's exhalation while the last few patrons in the bar area flee for the internal doors. Looks like they've painted over the area where John nailed Prince William to the wall. The barmen fire their shotguns again as I take in the sheep bound to-. Really.

"Oh god, help!"

The barman on the left and I both glance at the burned and bleeding man hanging in a metal cage from the ceiling, but my ring is faster than his gun. I erect similar barriers around the other four cages and… Drug residues around overturned tables and-.

"Dear Lord."

I glance back at Sir Cyril as another sprinkling of shotgun pellets patter off me. "What did you think I was going to show you?" More shotgun pellets-. You Dare!

"Oh, stop."

Iron maiden constructs manifest around them, pinning them in place but leaving them able to see out. I then lift them out of cover and set them down on the wine, cocaine and body fluid soaked floor.

"Cornwall, get those people down." A purple ray drone drops stealth and begins playing its beam over the second most injured-. Ah, the most injured is dead. A pity, though I suppose it might make the joint enterprise murder convictions easier. "Sir Cyril, with me. The rest of you, don't puke on anything we might need in court."

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:43 GMT

On the one hand, the secret (and not so secret) rulers of Britain. A couple of front-rankers most members of the public wouldn't know from Adam (or Eve), their deputies… Not famous types; no popular music stars or other media personalities. This isn't the nineteenth century. All but the most conceited know full well that their narcissistic little bubble would collapse the instant that any significant external attention was turned upon it.

Heh.

On the other we have a bunch of costumed lunatics. Not the brightest of any bunch that wasn't coal-black, but having moral codes which they value highly. They didn't have to come, or put themselves in danger like this, yet there's no doubt in my mind that having seen that I'm right they'll back me to the hilt. At least as far as this operation goes.

Heroes have their uses, Corpsman.

Hm. Reminds me what Vetinari said about… Oh, what was it? Bad people being good at running things, and heroes only really being good at removing bad people from office. So every so often the villain running a place would get complacent and self-indulgent and a hero would need to show them the door… And then either the hero would make a pig's ear of running the place, or they'd draft in a new and less complacent villain.

Or the hero learns-.

My yellow environmental shield actually vanishes for a moment, leaving me protected only by my orange environmental shield, Apokoliptian armour and being a god.

Was that intentional, Corpsman?

Couldn't say, Sinestro.

I fold my hands behind my back as I walk down a staircase into what appears to be a function area of some kind. While mostly tidy, a few chairs knocked aside suggest that it's being used as a hiding place by some-.

"I've seen bigger!"

A man dressed like some sort of Elizabethan dandy is fending off a knife-wielding partygoer, moving around his foe's wild slashes with surprising grace. Seeing an opening, he dances left as his attacker overextends and fires two jabs into the man's face. Normally that would be disorientating. Unfortunately, the man's too drugged up to really feel it and manages a stab into the fop's stomach.

He looks down at the knife embedded in his costume for a moment. Then he looks back up. "Are you in yet?"

Ah, an armoured under layer. I hadn't thought that a man who would dress like that would do anything so sensible. The fop then headbutts the other man, sending him staggering backwards towards… Someone who I'm assuming is his twin brother, who then boots him in the crotch with cock-crushing power.

"Akhrrrrr!"

"Such a commotion-" Fop number two follows up with a haymaker which drops their opponent to the carpet. "-about such a little thing."

"You gentlemen have this under control?"

They both look up in a mildly creepy way. "Only small problems."

Fop… Agh, I've lost track of which one is which. He nods, and makes a fist with his right hand. "Which we've got well in hand."

"Knight to Grayven."

"Mother Box, open a boom tube to the containment area. Just toss anyone you've subdued-" Their left eyebrows rise. "-through." Wha-? Oh, now I'm doing it. I turn away and raise my right hand to my ear. "Grayven. Go ahead."

"They're heading for the rear entrance!" I wince. "Open up one of your tubes so we can-."

"It's already taken care of." Map. "Send a few people to make sure they don't go into hiding, then join me in the manager's office. I'll need you to confirm that I'm not planting evidence."

"Alright. I'll be with you in a moment. Knight out."

Mother Box, hush tube.

Ping.

I walk through the portal and stride to the office window overlooking the rear entrance. The double doors burst open a moment later, dishevelled club members bursting out and running straight into an immovable wall of g-trolls.

"Unhand me, you vile creature!"

Fascinating how they respond to fear. Some cower, but so far none we've pulled from the rooms they've been hiding in have tried to negotiate. Instead, they play the role of conceited aristocrat to the hilt, as if they were some sort of pantomime villain.

When the weak are oppressed, they see it as the natural state of things. Unpleasant, but hardly unusual or unexpected. Thus, they develop coping mechanisms. Subtle rebellions, small and tightly limited egos… Religious faith. These people have never experienced anything like what you are doing to them. To them, the only equivalent experience they have would be a servant putting the wrong flavour toothpaste on their brush in the morning, and so they try to deal with it in the same way.

Mm. Not sure I agree with your analysis, Sinestro. Still, I suppose that the outcome is much the same. And aside from the odd endorsement speech I won't be much involved with picking up the pieces. The precise whys and wherefores can be left to-

A metal-clad foot steps onto the floor behind me.

-other people.

I turn, a polite smile upon my lips. "Sir Cyril, Mother Box is at-" I take her off my belt and hold her out. "-your disposal for the extraction of data."

"Ping."

He takes her, then puts her down on the desk. "What's in the filing cabinets?"

I shrug. "No idea." Disable the scuttling charge and unlock it.

Certainly, Corpsman.

There's a click and the top drawer comes slightly open. Sir Cyril walks over to it and pulls it open. "Now this is how Dad and I used to do it."

"Whatever makes you happy. Take as long as you want; we're not under any sort of time pressure."

"Do you think it's worth calling Squire in?"

I wince slightly. "Maybe get the place cleaned up a bit, first."

He grunts quietly, and pulls out the first file as I take in the room. Expensive and very tidy decoration. I wonder who handles the cleaning around here? I mean, I doubt that these people have ever cleaned up after themselves, and the staff couldn't possibly be part of the same social class. I'm not sure how much money the average person would have to be paid in order to serve drinks while people were tortured to death in front of them… And I'm not sure how the sort of person prepared to do that could ever be considered reliable enough to be trusted to do it and not run screaming to the newspapers.

Huh. Look at that. I didn't think that anyone in Britain just stuck flagpoles up in their office. Always thought that was an American thing. Whoever used to work here had two: one a pretty normal Union Jack and the other… Nearly a Union Jack. The same design, but the blue is replaced with purple and the red with dark pink. No idea what that's about, but it's not like I'm an expert on flags…

I glance at Sir Cyril. "What's it called when a Union Jack is pink and purple instead of blue and red?"

"That's a Black Jack. Why, did you run into one?"

"What does it signify?"

"Evil, usually. It's from a parallel universe version of Britain. Nasty bunch."

Sounds like evidence to me. I step towards it and reach out with my right hand. "There's one here, but I suppose it's not a surprise-"

I touch it, and blue crackling lights fill the room!

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:48 GMT

"-that.. they're associated."

Room's still full of twinkling light, and Sir Cyril has downed the folder and is braced for an attack. Then he spots me still touching the flag.

"Sorry, sorry." I let go and the sparkles fade. "Completely my fault, really should have seen that coming." Me and Miss Shimmer. Probably more me. I shouldn't have assumed that her magic abilities were infallible.

Sir Cyril holds his ready pose for a moment, then relaxes slightly. "Have you got any sort of magic resistance?"

"Yes. You?"

"Where does it come from?"

"From me being a god. My soul is more powerful than that of most mortals and I'm more in tune with it. I shape magic systems around me to conform to my nature. It can be overpowered and I can turn it down, but most spells just either fail completely or fall off after a couple of seconds. You?"

He reaches to his left pauldron with his right hand and taps it with his right forefinger. "My armour's enchanted. Now." He lowers his hand and walks towards the flags. I step aside to give him access. "Let's see what that was all about."

He holds his right hand out, not quite touching the flag. "Hm. Usually get a bit of a reaction if there's still magic in it." He inches his hand closer before finally touching it. Nothing else happens. "It might have been some sort of signal."

"Shouldn't matter, then. All of their controllers are being tied up-" Hopefully literally, but you don't give a man a red power ring if you're not prepared to accept a few acid-etched skeletons. "-and I'm a little more ready for Mister Kelly than I was last time."

He pulls his hand back and repeats the process with the Union Jack. No, that appears to just be a normal flag. "Alright. That might just have been a false alarm."

"Piiiiiinggg."

"Mother Box?" I pick her up from the desk and hold her up to my face. "What's wrong?"

"Pi-ping?"

I envelop her in both hands and focus on our bond for a moment. Better?

Ping.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Mother Boxes have a similar.. relationship with the Source that we New Gods do. She's confused because she can't feel it any longer and it's interfering with her systems."

"And what's the Source?"

"Are you a Christian?"

"Yes. I've been Church of England my whole life."

"Then I suppose that you might call it God. Though in my experience most human practitioners of monotheism severely misunderstand their deity of choice."

"And you know better?"

"Yes, of course I do. When my kind reach adulthood, we take a tiny fragment of its nature into ourselves, to be reunified with it upon our deaths. I have within me that part of the Source that is conquest. Or.. perhaps a tiny part of the part." Or perhaps real Grayven does and I've just soaked enough local magic to fake it. Still not sure. I suppose I'll find out when we finally confront one another.

"I don't think my vicar would believe you."

"What does he know about it?"

"She, actually."

"She, he, whatever. Human." I shake my head. "Given how thaumically active this world is, I was initially surprised that your major religions were Source-worshipping. Usually that only happens on worlds that can't generate their own gods. It wasn't until the first time I saw the roof of the Sistine Chapel I realised what had happened. You actually don't worship the Source, not most of you. Probably Abraham, maybe Jesus himself… Perhaps some of the prophets and saints. The rest of you worship a being I think of as 'Zeus-Who's-Nice', a grandfatherly but basically… Scaled up human sort of figure."

"I'm afraid that I haven't studied enough theology to debate it with you. What's your point?"

"The Source exists, Zeus-Who's-Nice doesn't. And my kind can replicate in a small way our link to it in our technology. Mother Box is under the weather because her link is presently disrupted."

"You mean that your computer can't feel God?"

"If.. you.. want to put it like that. If you're seriously interested in improving your theological knowledge-."

"But you're alright."

"Mother Box uses a remote connection. Mine is inherent; it's part of me and.. part of the Source at the same time. Look: the Source is fundamentally unlike any living being in the universe. Our understanding isn't perfect, it's just better than yours."

"Alright." He actually doesn't sound quite as dubious about it as I'm sure that he is. "Does that mean anything for us, here and now?"

"I don't know." I return her to my belt and walk towards the filing cabinet. "But it's jolly o-." I stop in front of the window. "Um."

Sir Cyril steps away from the flags and follows my gaze. "That's not London."

Um. Yeah. The exteriors of the closest buildings don't look that different, but the skyline is a different shape and there are far fewer lights. "Sinestro?"

"Still here, Corpsman. What have you done wrong now?"

"Just a systems check, nothing to worry about."

"Corpsman, I expect-."

I raise my left hand. "How about you?"

"No critical system errors detected. Your command?"

"Mother Box, have we got tubes?"

"P-ping."

No tubes. "Alright, get to work on making sense of the topology. I want to be able to leave as soon as possible."

"Not working?"

"We can move from place to place here, but going back to London requires that she understand how this place works and how it relates to our world. Assuming that we're in…" I glance back at the flag. "What did you say this place was called?"

"The people I've spoken to who come from here usually just vanish as soon as we work out where they're from. I think it's called the Kingdom of Britannia."

"Interesting. Odd choice of colours. Do the constituent parts of their kingdom use the same colour scheme?"

"I couldn't say. If we're actually there, we can do the first reconnaissance anyone in the law enforcement community has ever managed to do. I take it that you didn't know they had a link to everyone you want to arrest?"

"I wasn't aware of a parallel universe being involved. We might have spotted them making contact and just not realised what we were seeing. I'd get in touch but-. Ah, hang on. Ring, contact Lantern Talbot."

"Unable to comply."

"Contact Lantern Gardner."

"Unable to comply."

"Rats. Okay, you know more about these people than I do. Do we stay here while Mother Box tries to process, or go outside?"

"I'd be surprised if they didn't detect us appearing. I don't think that staying here is a good idea."

"I don't know, if they send a servant or something I could interrogate-."

The door opens suddenly, and the Punisher-looking man comes through quickly and closes it behind him. "What the fuck just-"

Sir Cyril's jaw tightens. "Language!"

"-happened? The door started sparkling and the corridor went weird."

I usher him aside and reach for the door. "Weird? This should be interesting."

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
21:52 GMT

I frown. "It's not that weird."

It's clearly different, though. No radiators, air conditioning or electrical sockets. The paintings have changed as well, and none show anything modern. The lights are still-. No, those aren't electronic lights. They're some sort of flame, bound within glass. And magic… Yes, more magic in use here than I'm used to.

"You weren't out here when it changed."

Magic user or users who aren't on speaking terms with modernity, allied with the most degenerate parts of the British government. Not.. really ringing any bells. Morgana le Fay is the only possibility who immediately occurs to me, and I haven't been able to find out anything about her actions in the modern era. Since she wasn't active I didn't prioritise it.

Hm.

"Sir Cyril, does any of this look familiar?"

"It looks a little like some parts of my castle." He walks over to one of the lights and cautiously raises his right gauntlet. "Hm."

I consider the Punisher-lookalike for a moment. "What's your name and what ammunition does that gun use?"

"Faceoff. And it's standard NATO forty five millimetre. Listen,-."

"And is that t-shirt armoured?"

He taps his chest with his right fist, producing a knock. "Chest and back only, but yeah."

Ugh, probably home made by an amateur. Possibly him. Down side to the complete lack of civilian involvement in the manufacture and application of firearms in Britain; getting kitted up as a vigilante is just so much harder.

"Then I'm afraid that you're soundly out of your depth. Would you object to me giving you an upgrade for the duration of our time here?"

He holds his arms out to the sides slightly. "Sounds good to me, mate. Do I just-?"

Orange light plays over his body. I don't have time to create proper Apokoliptian gear for him, but top of the line non-powered armour is a simple enough prospect. Legs, chest, arms and head, and I'll upgrade his mask while I'm about it.

I lower my left hand. "It's tough but not invulnerable." He twists his torso, getting a feel for how it's affecting his movement. "And as for firearms, this-" I hold out a plasma carbine to him. "-will do for now. Don't point it at anything you don't want to incinerate."

He nods, then slings his gun's strap over his left shoulder and clips the gun to his equipment belt before taking the carbine from me. "Got it. Safety-"

"Excuse me, Gravyen."

"-first and all that."

I turn back to the man who brought decent gear. "Yes, Sir Cyril?"

"I don't like using lethal force. We just appeared in what might well be someone's house. Or another club. Neither of you are to shoot anyone without a good reason, am I clear?"

"Clear to me, Sir Cyril. Faceoff?"

Faceoff shrugs. "I always think it's better to have a gun and not need it than to need one and not have it."

"That's not funny, Faceoff."

"Oi." Faceoff stabs his right forefinger at Sir Cyril. "I've never slotted anyone who didn't deserve it. I don't just go around shooting people at random, and I don't like you implying I do."

"Gentlemen, you're both very pretty, but if we might focus on our current location for a moment? I have a daughter who's expecting a bed time story tonight."

Faceoff moves his right hand to the carbine and half-turns away. Sir Cyril looks down the corridor. "If the layout's the same, the front entrance is that way."

I nod. "As good a direction as any other." He leads the way-. "Ah, Sir Cyril?" He stops and half-turns back. "I once survived a tactical nuclear device at point blank range. Why don't I go first?"

Sir Cyril looks me up and down. Then he exhales more sharply than was strictly necessary. "Try to look friendly."

"Puppies and kittens, Sir Cyril." I stride down the corridor, mindful not to knock anything off the walls with my arms. "Puppies and kittens."

Sinestro, scans working?

I'm having trouble making sense of some things, Corpsman. Most likely, objects which have been enchanted. But conventional scanning to the building's outer walls is unimpeded.

Let's have it, then.

Hm. Yes. It's all pre-electronics, but not the cod-medieval the Justice League cartoon taught me to expect from Morgana. No.. gas either, not in fireplaces nor the kitchens. Plenty of humans, and a few things that read as near human. Still not getting anything useful as far as our planar location goes-

You're welcome, Corpsman.

-but at least we're not in the Phantom Zone.

"Sinestro says this place looks like an actual club. Victorian era equivalent, maybe."

Guest incoming, Corpsman.

Someone-. A stoutly built woman dressed as a Victorian maid -an actual Victorian maid, not the fetish ones- walks around the corner with a pile of sheets in her arms. She spots us at once and stops. Perhaps a little wary, but not afraid.

"Madam, could you please direct us towards the owner of the establishment?"

"Ah… Well, yes sir, I could. The Queen owns the Justinian Club." Accent puts me in mind of the west country. "I'm sorry sir, but we weren't told to expect anyone to come through the portal today."

"Oh, it's a bit of an impromptu visit. I wasn't properly briefed myself. What exactly is the protocol?"

"Um…" I notice her eyes dip momentarily to her sheets. "I don't really… I'm not involved…"

"Where might I find someone who is?"

"Mister Frimost generally meets with gentlemen such as yourselves, but if you head downstairs I'm sure that Mister Turner will be able to help you."

She checks behind her, then backs up to the last corridor junction to allow us to advance. I advance at strolling pace and turn-. Hm. I take a blank gold disk out of subspace and set it on top of her sheet pile. "Thank you. Gentlemen?"

Sinestro, show me her response to seeing the other two.

Concealed as they were behind my bulk, there should be some sort of reaction. Based on the apparent level of technology, plate armour should already be out of date and Kevlar shouldn't have been invented yet. But… No, once I'm past her eyes go deferentially down, and she goes back to her duties with some speed once Faceoff has passed her.

Not quite, Corpsman. There was a small spike of fear as Sir Cyril passed her.

So the monster man and the soldier aren't people to be afraid of, but the knight is. Curious.

"Giving her a tip was a bit of a risk, wasn't it? We don't know if the normal visitors do that, and having seen how they were carrying on I doubt that they did."

"Sir Cyril, do you honestly think she's going to tell anyone above her in the hierarchy? At most, she might tell another servant and people will start volunteering to give us information."

"Hm. You could be right there. Why wasn't she more afraid of you?"

"Not sure at this point. But my guess would be that she's seen large grey people before somewhere."

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
22:03 GMT

"I'm sorry, Sir Cyril, but we're… We would normally expect some notice." Mr Turner raises his hands in a placatory fashion. "Not that I'm.. complaining in any way, I simply wish to explain the lack of.. the normal courtesies."

One of the staff hurried to fetch Mr Turner just as soon as we came down into the lounge area, and he swiftly escorted us into a private meeting room. He appears to have assumed that Sir Cyril is in charge, and the brief look around the lounge area gave me a pretty good idea why. A good few of the aristocratic-looking types sipping wine and making polite conversation there had bodyguards with them. Human men-at-arms in most cases, but a couple had hulking grey… Orcs? Ogres? I'm not sure. I got a few curious looks, but none of them felt any alarm at seeing me. Curious how -despite this nominally being the evil side- things are actually a good deal more civilised here than they were back in the Caligula Club.

"Oh, don't worry, Mister Turner. Things are a bit.. confused on our side at the moment, and it sounds like no one thought to inform you. Entirely our fault."

He nods, looking a little relieved. "We've sent a message to the castle that you're here, and I assume that either her Majesty will request that you pay her a call or send one of her courtiers here. Have you.. met.. Mister Frimost before, Sir Cyril?"

"I'm afraid not. Is there anything I should know?"

"Adh-. The Queen.. holds him in extremely high regard, clearly, so while it's not quite a matter of him being able to speak for her, you may reasonably assume that anything he says has been authorised by her. And… Well… Not that I'd hear a word said against him, you understand, but… Not many of his kind rise to high office and he has.. one or two… Unusual mannerisms. In my experience it's best not to mention them."

"I'm sorry." Sir Cyril shakes his head. "'His kind'?"

"Ah, yes." He glances at me and inclines his head slightly. "Altered creatures. I understand that Mister Frimost used to be the Princess's cat. I've never seen much use for them beyond brute strength, but clearly the Queen knows what she's doing."

Okay, someone's doing a reverse-Circe, possibly the Queen herself. The name 'Frimost' means absolutely nothing to me, and I can't think of any cat-to-man transformations in DC canon… Other than Michael, obviously. I think Marvel had a few. Huh. Actually, if this guy is at Michael's level he might actually be a hard fight for me, with my drones back on Earth 16.

"I doubt that she would use him for sensitive work if he wasn't up to it."

"No doubt, no doubt at all. I was merely remarking that it's unusual."

A name for the Queen would be nice, but Sir Cyril can't sound like he knows nothing or we'll probably have to fight our way through a city that might well be the size of London. But in the dark-. No, pursued by things with animal sense of smell and human intelligence while I glow. Yes, I can fly but I'm not convinced that is actually an advantage against magic users of unknown capacities, particularly when we might need local help getting back…

And the fear. He's afraid of being seen to undermine the Queen, which is odd, considering his position. If he's trusted to meet foreign diplomats, shouldn't he trust that the Queen won't have him hanged, drawn and quartered over a trivial slip of the tongue? And he's a little afraid of Sir Cyril, who's been nothing but polite. Is it fear of aristocrats? I presume that he's upper middle class himself-. Perhaps he's afraid for his position? This sort of role would normally go to an aristocrat, but he's managed to work his way up to it? And if a foreign power actually complained, he might need the backing…

No. I'm forcing conclusions based on inadequate information. Keep looking like well trained muscle.

"You wouldn't happen to know how we get back, would you?" Mr Turner blinks in puzzlement while Sir Cyril smiles weakly. "I was drafted in to cover this at short notice. I assumed it would be obvious, but…"

"I'm sorry, Sir Cyril, but we were clearly instructed to treat your office as inviolate. I.. don't even know what the interior looks like, let alone where your magicians hide the transportation artefact."

"Oh well. I'm sure they'll come looking for us if it comes to it. How long do you think it will be until we hear from the castle?"

"Within the hour, I would say. You're welcome to avail yourselves of the facilities in the meanwhile."

"Very kind of you." Sir Cyril gets up, and Faceoff and I take a step to the side to allow him to sweep past. He gets most of the way to the door and then stops, half turning back. "Oh, one last thing. There aren't any… Morris Men in town, are there?"

"It's not the solstice yet, so I doubt that any troupes other than the Queen's Own are here. Do you wish to speak with them?"

"No, I think I'll avoid them, thank you. Creepy bunch." He turns away, opens the door and strides out of the room. Faceoff follows him, and I take a moment to tip my nonexistent hat to Mr Turner before leaving myself and firmly closing the door behind me.

Sir Cyril and Faceoff surreptitiously check the surrounding corridors for locals before huddling with me. Since he's 'the boss' Sir Cyril gets to go first.

"Do either of you have a clue who this 'Queen' is?"

I shrug. "My first guess was Morgana le Fay. She called herself a queen, used magic and has been uncharacteristically quiet for a while. No record of her using beast people, but it would be well within her abilities."

Sir Cyril's lips take on a thoughtful cast. "How about Circe? She was a queen, uses magic and is on record as using beastmen."

Ah… "She also has no real ties to Britain or any recent interest in ruling humans."

He regards me for a moment. "What's the real reason you don't think it's her?"

"Because she's spent the last month or so living in my mountain after swearing off supervillainy and burying the hatchet with Wonder Woman. I talked her into… Pursuing other projects."

He bows his head slightly for a moment. "I suppose that establishes her alibi. Faceoff?"

"I've never even met a magician. How hard is it to make an animal into a person?"

What did.. Miss Shimmer.. say about it? "It's easy to do a bad job where they go mental after a few days, but a full transmutation takes a lot of skill and power. It's not something some random street magician could do. Familiars get pretty clever, but they don't change shape. And they can be a point of vulnerability which I doubt that any high-end magic user would want."

Faceoff looks down at his carbine for a moment. "Could we beat a magician like that?"

"Can and have before. But I don't think we should think about this as a fight."

Sir Cyril nods. "He's right. First priority is getting home. Second is gathering information. Actually picking a fight with a magician-queen and all of her forces is something we should be looking to avoid."

I nod. "Avoid for today. We can always come back."

Faceoff shrugs. "Alright. What was that about Morris dancers?"

"Had a fight with a Morris dancer from around here a while ago. He got away, and he probably got a good enough look at me that he could identify me if he saw me again."

"Um." I blink. "A.. Morris dancer?"

"They're like English ninjas. I've met some who know thirty ways to kill a man with a handkerchief."

My mouth sort of moves by itself for a few moments while I try to make sense of that pronouncement. "I… Have seen Morris dancers dancing. They.. didn't strike me as-."

"They don't do that sort of thing where other people can see it. You have to go a long way into the countryside to see it, and if you don't know the right people when you do you're in a lot of trouble. I'm expecting these 'Queen's Own' to be her assassins more than they're a dance troupe."

"Alright, mental as that sounds." I take a step back. "I suppose we're just waiting to hear from the castle, then."

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
22:19 GMT

"Oh aye. Seen 'em around once or twice. Folks from another world."

The large grey… Individual I'm presently sharing the courtyard's brazier with nods companionably. Human-equivalent intelligence, though whether or not they're mentally specialised I can't tell as yet. He's not quite my size and considerably less than my mass. Stronger? Weaker? He isn't a new god equivalent, I'd feel it easily if he was instinctively shaping local magic. But I'd only feel bound spells if they were strong and active, at least without doing something that he might feel.

"Do they come here frequently?"

"Dun't roightly know. No reason for them to tell me." Fair point, I suppose. "Never seen 'em bring hobgoblins with 'em, 'fore you. Your master a wee bit higher up than the usual 'visitors'?"

A capacity for reasoning and inquisitiveness. Not a pure weapon species, then. And.. apparently, he's a hobgoblin. And that's a wrought iron brazier he's holding his hands out to in a stable area full of iron. If he has any fae blood in him he's had a few upgrades made.

"Oh, different people have different preferences. Sir Cyril wouldn't dream of coming somewhere like this without me."

Well. It's true. Even in the bad old days when he ended most evenings in a drunken stupor, Sir Cyril's destructive tendencies were all inwardly directed. I imagine that if he'd found out about the Caligula Club he'd have bravely stormed the place and been quietly killed.

"That roight? Interestin' way ah doing things."

"Oh yes. Apparently, he's never had a meat shield better than me."

"'Meat shield'? Hah!" He grins. "Not too far off the truth there, I reckon." He shifts in place a little. "Course… My days in the regiment are well behind me."

I raise my eyebrows in polite inquiry. "Injury?"

"Nah, though you're a gent for saying so. Uuuurgh. Can't keep up with the young'uns at my age. Still, long as I can keep myself useful they won't break me up for spares, aye?"

I'm probably being speciesist thinking this, but I honestly can't tell the difference between him and the others. Not that they're identical, I just can't tell what the signs of age are in their kind.

"Have you got any idea how long it takes to get a message to the castle and back? Not that you're not splendid company, but I doubt that Sir Cyril will want to hang around."

"Ah, yes. Doesn't do to trouble the gentry, does it?"

Not seeing any fear there, just an acknowledgement of a commonly known fact. That's rather the problem with having a warrior race as personal servants: they can slap a heck of a lot harder than you can. I wonder how they're kept obedient? Loyalty geas or cultural conditioning? On the other hand, if the Queen really is a powerful enough magic user, maybe they save their fear for her? Haven't seen anyone lower down the food chain using the stuff… The difference between aristocrats and royalty, perhaps?

"He's fairly even-tempered outside of a proper fight." I shrug. "But why take unnecessary risks?"

"Well." He thinks for a moment. "If they've set a quick runner, or an 'orse on empty roads, no more than a half-hour. Castle gate ull let someone from here roight on through. Time back depends on-."

From nowhere comes the loud clatter of charging hooves and the clacking of metal-rimmed wheels on cobbles.

"Ah." My companion takes a step backwards towards the entrance to the stable-proper. "Might be wise to fetch your master prompt-loike."

I nod as the sound grows louder, taking small steps towards the servants' entrance but keeping my eyes firmly on the yard's street entrance. I wonder what manner of creature would be so readily identifiable? Would a queen who uses fae creatures as foot soldiers bind unicorns? A princess was mentioned, so I doubt she'd attract them by conventional meansoh my word!

The horses don't come through the gate. They -somehow- run at full charge out of the fucking drinking trough right beside me, scales gleaming and manes dripping. Kelpies, of course. The other fae horse. Who can apparently pull carriages far too big to have come out of that trough through it with no trouble at all, and who are now pulling it around in a circle while giving me a decidedly unfriendly eye.

What's a good hobgoblin to do?

I turn away and hurry back inside. This part of the building is a little more sized for larger folk, and I hardly have any trouble navigating past the back office staff. Let's see, right, foyer, grand lounge…

Sir Cyril is having a polite chat with one of the local club members, an untouched wine glass on the table in front of him. Faceoff stands behind him with his arms folded, his position mirrored by the other fellow's guard. Hope he's found out something useful. I take a quick look around to see if anything of note has changed, then walk directly towards my 'master'.

"…always going to be a bit of a problem. In my experience, isolating them from their leaders for a bit and then offering them a token concession or two is the best way to handle it."

Hm. Ethnically homogenous. Some tanned skin, suggesting Roma heritage. Nothing darker. No blonde hair, either. Black, brown and red only.

"A concession!" The other man looks almost comically horrified. "But if word got around-."

"Then don't let it. Invite a few neighbours around when you hang the ringleaders and they won't say a thing."

"I suppose. Still… It sticks in the craw."

"Needs must when the Queen drives. Something amiss, Grayven?"

He doesn't look up as he asks.

"I believe that your carriage has arrived, Sir Cyril. Kelpie-driven, apparently."

"My word." His companion looks suitably impressed. "They must want to speak to you in a bit of a hurry."

"And it wouldn't do to keep them waiting." Sir Cyril pushes his chair back and rises, striding towards the 'member' route to the yard. "Good evening to you."

I let Faceoff follow at his heels while I bring up the rear. I'm not really sure that I'll fit in even quite a large carriage, let alone be conveyed in one without crushing it. I'm hoping the same magic that lets them take shortcuts through-.

"'Hang the ringleaders'? What the fuck was that about?"

"That was about convincing him not to decimate them. And mind your manners; you're my bodyguard, remember."

Sinestro, patch me through to their radios.

Done, Corpsman.

The large grey fellows are hobgoblins, no iron vulnerability that I could notice. There's a standing military force of them, and they're definitely human equivalent in intelligence. The one I spoke to lacked the fear of his 'betters' that the human servants have. What did you get?

"Hereditary aristocracy controls just about everything. 'The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate' in… Blasted deed." Story there. "The rest of the country doesn't look anything like as nice as this city does. More like medieval than early modern. Didn't get the Queen's name, but she's ruled for at least three generations and probably more."

"It's Morgan le Fay." Sir Cyril doesn't stop walking, but his rhythm does change noticeably and I give the back of Faceoff's head a confused stare. "There was a painting on the wall with her name on it."

Morgan? A bloke?

I don't remember that from… All of those cartoons I watched growing up.

"No, it's old French."

Oh. French. That explains it.

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th October
22:26 GMT

Of course.

It's bigger on the inside.

I'm still taking up one entire bench, mind, but at least there's room for the other two to sit without me crushing them. Sir Cyril taps on the inside of the door, then there's a slight lurch as the carriage accelerates.

"It's not just the kelpies." Sir Cyril's jaw looks pensive, but his helmet still obscures the upper part of his face. It makes reading his exact mood rather tricky. "The coachman was fae as well."

I nod. "Oh? It fits the theme." I feel a slight tug, then… The view outside the windows becomes one of green-tinted water. That's what it feels like? "I did spot that there wasn't any iron on the coach. What sort of fae?"

"It's hard to tell. A boggun, probably. They're hard working and loyal, as long as their employer holds up their end of the bargain."

Faceoff stares moodily out of the window. "When did this become my life?"

Sir Cyril purses his lips, inclining his head slightly. "Something you want to share with the rest of us?"

I glance out of the window as some sort of eel swims past. Faceoff looks at Sir Cyril, probably trying to work out if he's taking the piss or not. "Do you actually know what I do?"

"Yes. You used to be in the Parachute Regiment, now you work in a fishmonger's in-."

"No, not that. And how do you know about that, anyway?"

"I like to keep an eye on our community. Particularly the elements that look like they might go on a shooting spree."

"What, so you don't shoot people yourself but you don't mind other people doing it?"

"I mind other people doing it. But I've got better things to do than spend time stopping people like you doing it when the people they're shooting to an extent have it coming. And while I'd prefer them to be tried and arrested, I'm not exactly broken up about Triad people traffickers being washed up with on the beach with holes in their heads."

I raise my eyebrows slightly? "Really? You know, if the fishmonger thing doesn't work out-?"

"But that's the problem, isn't it?" He ignores me. "I understand men with guns. I trained for that. And I know criminal networks. I don't know.. fucking.. f-"

"Language."

"-airies." I try not to smile. "I mean, how do you even get involved in this?"

Sir Cyril shrugs. "Do this long enough and you tend to run into it. The.. magic and other strange things are out there, and if you don't die you'll learn to cope. My dad showed me a few things when I was a boy, and if you actually treated those people you meet in The Time in a Bottle as useful contacts rather than as ridiculous morons then you might learn something."

"On Apokolips, this sort of stuff just comes with the territory. So your enemy is a different shape this time, so what? If it's worth shooting a gangster for then it's worth shooting a hobgoblin for. You know. As above, so below."

"I suppose you've got a point." He taps his left heel against his bench. "And at least I know I made the right choice not joining the Met's armed response unit after I left the army."

Sir Cyril shifts around awkwardly so that he can look Faceoff full on. "What makes you say that?"

"The Met work for the Home Office. Right now, Grayven's g-elves are grabbing everyone with any power in the Home Office. And if they miss anyone, armed response units are going to get ordered to attack the g-elves, aren't they?"

I shake my head. "I'm not worried either about or for the police. We've got unparalleled strategic mobility, they've got London traffic. By the time they've set up anywhere, we should be done."

"Well…" Sir Cyril leans back. "Unless Morgan le Fay sends in her hobgoblins."

"Then that's what we have to-" Another tug, and water streams off the exterior of the carriage as the kelpies trot out into a courtyard. "-ensure doesn't happen.

I lean down to peer out of the window, and a rather sharply dressed courtier with… Yes, cat eyes and ears peers back. That's most likely Frimost. The carriage comes to a halt a short distance from him. What little I know about this sort of thing suggests that someone should be opening the door for us, but that isn't happening.

"Ah. Sir Cyril? Which of us opens the door?"

"A footman, or the coach driver."

"So do I wait, or just open it myself?"

"I don't think it will hurt my credibility if you do."

"Right then." I reach across the carriage and take hold of the door handle, which… Doesn't move. I push a little harder. Yield to my Purpose!

The door sort of.. spins, the force from my hand ripping the hinges out of the structure of the carriage. As my hand stops the door keeps going, flying across the courtyard while the handle remains in my hand. The boggun coachman who is standing right next to the door takes a slightly nervous step backwards and looks to Frimost for guidance.

I lean forwards and extricate myself as delicately as possible, handing the handle to the boggan. "Sorry."

"Quitealrightm'lord." He shuffles back a little to give me space. "Meaningtohavethatlookedatanyhow."

Sir Cyril steps out after me, and I step to the side to allow him to take the lead. Frimost appears to have no special interest in any one of us, his eyes darting from point of interest to point of interest without settling anywhere. Not very cat-like, but I suppose that he isn't either. Sir Cyril gives Faceoff -really need to find out what his name is- a moment to extricate himself as well, then strides towards Frimost.

"Sir Cyril Sheldrake, here to see Queen Morgan le Fay. Is your queen at home?"

"Hmmmrm. She might be." He looks us over once more while I look around the courtyard for avenues of attack. Four solid walls, a heavy locked gate presumably to let the carriage out, and a door behind Frimost which I assume allows invited guests into the castle living areas. "But I'm not sure that she's at home to you."

"If there's some courtesy that I've missed, then she has my most sincere apologies."

"Oh, please. Armour? No suit? Openly displayed weapons? This isn't a mistimed visit. You're not with our regular visitors at all. Taken the Caligula Club by storm, perhaps?"

Rats.

Sir Cyril is unfazed. "Alright, but I would still like to discuss matters with the queen."

"No.. you.. wouldn't. But if you follow me I'll take you to Princess Morgana. She's in a mood to be entertained, I think." He turns away from us and starts to walk towards the castle door, which opens as he approaches. "This way, if you please."

Sir Cyril waits for a moment, though whether due to proper comportment or to give me a chance to interject I can't tell. Then, at a pace slightly slower than that of our escort, he follows him up the steps. Faceoff checks our surroundings again, earning a head-tossing from the closest kelpie as the boggan tries to lead them away. I give him a slight gesture in the direction of the door with my left hand, and with the carbine clasped to his chest and ready to be pointed at a target at a moment's notice he marches after Sir Cyril.

That carriage was what they use to escort visiting dignitaries, and yet I was able to destroy the door without specifically meaning to. Overspecialisation? Good against direct attack but bad against subversion? Morgaine-. Morgan, whatever, is a name, but I've got no way to assess how powerful she is compared to people I've already killed. And she's clearly had some time to dig in. Then again, there's a functioning civilisation here, with elite armies and nobles who are actually involved in running society. Could be someone I can work with.

I might get more out of this than I expected.