30th March
16:36 GMT
"What did the government tell them?
" Mister Siskin doesn't bother turning his head as we stand on the pavement outside his parents' house in
Becontree, East London. The fully constructed golem looks a little like the
Flamekin from Magic: the Gathering and he's wearing loose-fitting jogging trousers and a sweatshirt to disguise his form. Only slightly, mind. If anyone took a closer look they'd realise that something was up. They're discouraged from doing so by the fact that the golem is six and a half feet tall and quite.. solid looking. He's probably also radiating a little of the fear-flavoured magic that now makes up his true self inside the stone case.
"I'm not completely sure. I can only easily access electronic records, and as you can imagine there aren't many of
those left. 'Accident at work, full investigation to follow', probably.
"
Huh. I suppose that he's a little like Red Tornado was in the comics now: crack the casing and you haven't won, you've just made life even harder for yourself.
"If you don't want to try talking to them right away-.
"
"If not now, when? When would be a good time to find out that I have become
this?
"
"When we've found an illusion that isn't disrupted by..
you? Or when you've gotten more used to it? There were probably things other than fear in those memories if you look hard enough. I know someone-.
"
The pale yellow corona under his hood intensifies for a moment.
"I'm not going to drag this out. Either they accept that I'm who I say I am, or they don't.
"
"Alright, I'll… Come out and get you if they want to talk to you.
"
He inclines his head slightly and I start up the path to their front door. A little surprising that this was the first thing he wanted to do, given how much he was banging on about his inhumanity. He wasn't particularly interested in assessing how strong his new body is or what his arcane abilities are now. As far as I can tell he was strictly a low level parapsychic before this, now we've got no idea.
I press the doorbell and wait. Police notifying people that their loved ones have been horribly injured or killed is a feature of most crime dramas I've seen but for various reasons isn't something superheroes are generally called upon to do. Gareth and Maeve Siskin, seventy one and seventy five respectively. He used to be a postman and she worked in a chemist's. No significant ill health, other than the gradual wear and tear that comes with ageing. They s
hhhould recognise me, though I'm not in uniform at the moment. Given the situation I didn't think talking to the British government before paying them a visit was a sensible idea.
There's a motion behind the door and I hear the chain go on before it opens slightly and Mister Siskin Senior peers up at me. "Yes?"
"Mister Siskin.
" I hold up my left hand palm facing him and generate an orange sigil.
"May I speak with you-
"
"Bloomin' nora."
"-for a moment?
"
"You're that.. cake-" I wince. "-Lantern, aren't you?"
"One cake, one time.
"
"None of the others do cakes."
"Hah, that's where you're wrong. Guy never got further than barbeque and the other two live off take away food, but the fellow from the Justice Society is a perfectly capable baker.
"
"Never made a bloody cake the size of a city though, did he?"
"I'm also
orange. Bright orange! I glow and everything! None of the others glow orange!
"
We stand in silence for a moment.
"Do you want to come in?"
"Yes, thank you.
" He closes the door slightly and removes the chain before opening the door fully.
"I do actually have something serious I need to talk to you about. Is your wife in?
"
"No, she's at her reading group at the moment. Come in, come in." He moves to the side and I walk inside, him closing the door behind me. "That big chap not coming in with you?"
"Not just yet, no.
"
He heads inwards, towards the living room. "You want a cuppa? I was about to put the kettle on."
"Thank you, but no. Um, you.. might want to sit down and.. not have any hot liquids in your hands.
"
Immediately he turns back, his face grey and sombre. "Oh no, what's
happened now?"
"No no, no one's.. died or been seriously injured or anything like that. I wouldn't be talking to you if it was something that..
simple. Mister Siskin, you really should sit down.
"
"Alright then." He walks over to an arm chair and cautiously lowers himself into it. "What's the news?"
"At the beginning of this month, I was on a mission in Cornwall… Aaaaand it turned out that it was involved in the whole Geotroniks business.
"
"I hoped I'd never have to hear that bloody name again. I thought they were finished years ago?"
"How aware are you of the work they were doing?
"
He shakes his head. "All top secret. Never even really told us what killed our Michael."
"Essentially, they were creating a magic weapon. When active, it projected fear at a target. Michael was employed as a parapsychic during the early stages of development, and.. they didn't know enough about what they were doing to make sure nothing went wrong.
"
"Oh." He frowns. "How did he end up in a coma, then?"
"That wasn't exactly a coma. His job was to pull the fears out of the volunteers and put them inside a storage vessel. He… His body went into a coma because his.. soul got stuck there during the transfer. One of the things-.
"
"What? Are you trying to tell me-!"
"We found the storage container they used. Michael was still mentally coherent-.
"
"He wasn't dead?!" He's starting to tear up. "We saw the body!"
"There was no way you could have known, Mister Siskin. And given what happened at Geotroniks it wasn't likely that those in the know would have told you of the possibility. We were able to transfer him into an artificial body and he… Obviously he
looks very different.
I think he's still mostly him.
"
"Where is he!?"
"Just outside.
"
"Whu-? That..? That was never-?"
"Prosthetic body. We should be able to make one more lifelike later, but he wanted to come and see you as soon-
" Mister Siskin gets up and strides over to the front window in order to look out at his son.
"-as we had him up and running. I'll just go and get him for you.
"
