{red}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 {green}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."

"{red}That angel should of burned you{/}!"

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

"-{red}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.{orange}"

"{/}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.{orange}"

"{/}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.{orange}"

"{/}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 {green}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?"

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 {green}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."

{red}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-."

"{red}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."

{red}24th October
13:43 GMT -6{/}

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

Scott gives a quiet sigh. "I can't say you didn't warn me." {trans}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. "{orange}This way{/}." {trans}"Follow in my footsteps, weak-willed bitch-cow."{/}

"{orange}I'm sure it's delightful{/}." {trans}"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."

"{violet}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 {violet}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 {violet}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…" {trans}"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 {orange}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." {trans}"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 {yellow}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?"

{red}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-

"{yellow}WRUAAGH{/}."

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

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

"{yellow}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? {yellow}One my daughter was attending{/}?"

"{yellow}O-oh God, you're actually doing it{/}."

"No. Well. {yellow}Sort of{/}."

"{yellow}Look, I-I don't know who organised that{/}-."

"{yellow}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."

"{yellow}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. {yellow}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."

{yellow}I lean forward and down until I'm bent at right angles and my face is level with hers{/}. "{yellow}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 {yellow}purge{/}-. Did I say purge? I meant arrest."

"I'm-?" {yellow}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. "{yellow}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."

"{yellow}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. {yellow}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?"

{red}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 {yellow}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, {yellow}clearly shaken up{/}. "It.. could…" He {green}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?"

{red}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.. "{yellow}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 {yellow}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. "{yellow}Good evening{/}."

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

"{yellow}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. "{yellow}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…

"{blue}Hah{/}! Not so clever now-."

I pull back my right hand, clench it into a fist, then swing at the barrier. {trans}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 {yellow}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. {trans}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 {yellow}fire their shotguns again{/} as I take in the sheep bound to-. Really.

"{yellow}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 {yellow}my ring{/} is faster than his gun. {yellow}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-. {trans}You Dare!{/}

"Oh, {yellow}stop{/}."

{yellow}Iron maiden constructs manifest around them{/}, pinning them in place but leaving them able to see out. I then {yellow}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."

{red}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.

{yellow}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.

{yellow}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.

{yellow}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." {orange}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.

"{yellow}Unhand me, you vile creature{/}!"

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

{yellow}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." {yellow}Disable the scuttling charge and unlock it{/}.

{yellow}Certainly, Corpsman.{/}

There's a {yellow}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!

{red}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 {trans}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. "{yellow}Sinestro{/}?"

{yellow}"Still here, Corpsman. What have you done wrong now?"{/}

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

{yellow}"Corpsman, I expect-."{/}

I raise my left hand. "{orange}How about you{/}?"

{orange}"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. {orange}Ring{/}, contact Lantern Talbot."

{orange}"Unable to comply."{/}

"{orange}Contact Lantern Gardner{/}."

{orange}"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."

{red}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. {trans}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}Orange light plays over his body{/}. I don't have time to create proper Apokoliptian gear for him, but {orange}top of the line non-powered armour{/} is a simple enough prospect. {orange}Legs, chest, arms and head{/}, and I'll {orange}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 {orange}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. {green}Neither of you{/} are to shoot anyone without a good reason, {green}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, {yellow}scans working{/}?

{yellow}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-

{yellow}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."

{yellow}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 {orange}take{/} a blank gold disk out of subspace and {orange}set it{/} on top of her sheet pile. "Thank you. Gentlemen?"

Sinestro, {yellow}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 {yellow}deferentially{/} down, and she goes back to her duties with some speed once Faceoff has passed her.

{yellow}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."

{red}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. "{yellow}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?"

"{yellow}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… {yellow}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… {yellow}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."

"{yellow}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."

{red}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, {yellow}patch me through to their radios{/}.

{yellow}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.

{red}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. {trans}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.

{red}26th October
22:49 GMT{/}

Hmm. Yes. {trans}I can feel her.{/}

Not a lot of blatant magic on display. The magic lights are dim, but I imagine that is because the castle is in its night cycle and the queen doesn't want her circadian rhythms to get messed up. But nonetheless, the one who raised this castle has woven her power through every brick, every furnishing. Even with New God technology, I don't have this degree of penetration into the fabric of Challenger Mountain. {trans}It's almost godly. I can feel the pressure of it. She almost certainly knows that I'm here and what I am.{/}

We don't appear to be taking a direct route anywhere. Either that, or our host is on the move for her own convenience and we're trailing behind. Is Frimost showing off the place in an attempt to impress us? Faceoff is pretty much just checking the corners for potential attackers -must remember to teach him to check up more- and then ignoring the rest as a distraction. Sir Cyril is looking at points of interest, but I think he's just being polite. He's probably seen plenty of 'working' castles, and his own has been significantly upgraded in recent centuries. His armour's probably buzzing slightly from the surrounding arcane energy {trans}but when you can't feel it directly that sort of thing is far less impressive; a substitute for a technologically primitive people.{/}

From a door ahead I hear a soft thump, and sort of.. almost frenzied carpet-shuffling noise. Frimost grins as he glances back at us. "I believe that Her Highness is ready to receive you now."

Sir Cyril nods as the sounds continue. "Good of her. Lead on."

Frimost turns as he reaches the door which appears to be the source of the sound, and extends his right hand to it. "Presenting Her Highness, Princess Morgana of Camelot." He pushes the door open, then steps smartly in and to the side. "Princess?"

Sir Cyril follows him in through the door, stopping in apparent surprise at something he's seeing. "Ah-." A moment later he remembers that we're behind him and steps further inside to allow Faceoff and myself-.

Huh.

A youngish woman in a green dress with a black bodice is currently sitting astride a rolled-up carpet, flailing at it with a carpet-beater. That would be odd by itself, but added to the sight is the fact that the carpet roll is flying around the room and appears to be trying to buck her. Her face is-. I mean, if she were younger I imagine that she'd be laughing or screaming, but as it is she just looks sort of… Annoyed. And mildly annoyed at that, as if the animated rug isn't worth her time and she's just going through the motions.

Frimost leans back slightly to around a flailing carpet tail. "Oh, Princess?"

"Mungh." She takes a firm grip around the carpet with both legs, raises her carpet beater above her head and-. It transmutes into a sword as she swings it downwards, slicing into the carpet roll's 'head'. It jerks, shudders and then falls from the air. Princess Morgana herself remains in the air as it hits the stone floor and unrolls, filling the space in the centre of the room, the wounds it took in the farcical struggle still visible on the weave. Morgana then slumps through the air back to ground level, eyes passing over the three of us without any hint of interest until they reach Frimost. "What?"

"Guests, Highness. You sent me ahead of your mother's coachman?"

Wait, we were supposed to wait? I mean, I'm still sure that Morgan knows that we're here anyway, but this could get rather tedious if we're being used for local dominance games.

"Oh." She frowns for a half-second, then stares moodily at Sir Cyril. "Who are you?"

Sir Cyril manages a reasonable bow, despite his armour. "Cyril Sheldrake at your service, your Highness."

She continues to stare at him, then returns her gaze to Frimost. "Why did I want you to bring him here?"

"You did not elect to share that information with me, Highness. Perhaps you thought that you might find him amusing?"

She looks away, shrugging disinterestedly. Then she schleps towards a thickly upholstered chair and thumps herself into it. "I'm not finding much amusing right now."

"I have observed -if you'll forgive me for saying so- that you usually find everything amusing or nothing."

"Oh." She looks away. "I don't feel like being amused."

Sir Cyril takes a hesitant step towards her. "Your Highness, I want to speak to someone about relations between Britain and this wor-."

"Yes, the bounty on Zond is still outstanding, and it can be claimed by submitting any reasonably recognisable body part. Yes, Mother's in fine health and no, I'm not interested in marrying you."

"Er-. Alright." Sir Cyril pauses, clearly not sure how to deal with her attitude. "I'm afraid that I'm new at representing Britain to foreign powers. Do I need to present documents to you or to the queen?"

"Oh please. You don't represent them." Frimost looks just a little smug at her pronouncement. "You don't have enough ghosts around you to be from their government, and you don't smell of that ritual geomantic magic they like using so much." She leans forward, looking slightly more alert. "You're actually a knight, like my brother was."

Not sure how much of a compliment being compared to an inbred utopia-killer is, and even less sure… Wait. Wasn't there a version of Mordred in Seven Soldiers of Victory? Some sort of… Undead thing? Most of the creatures I've seen so far have been traditional fae, not Sheeda pseudo-fae, so… Probably not the same Mordred..? Maybe Mordred used to be a very common name or something.

"I.. do my best."

"And what brave deed did you perform to earn your spurs?"

"Ah. That's been a spot of confusion for a lot of people. I call myself 'knight' but I've never actually been knighted."

"You haven't?" Her mouth morphs into a grimace. "Are you a peasant in disguise?"

"No, I'm actually an Earl." He is? "Because I adopted the name 'knight' as a declaration of my intent to live up to the highest ideals of nobility and chivalry, people often assume that that's my rank in the peerage. It isn't. I don't usually like to make a big deal about it. I did get an audience with Queen Elizabeth after I defeated Springheeled Jack and avenged my father, but I do what I do because it's right, not because I'm under a feudal obligation to do so."

She sits back, crossing her legs. "So why are you really here, Lord Sheldrake?"

"I've had to deal with people from here before, in my professional capacity. We're having a professional disagreement concerning the direction of the British government back on our side, and I want to make sure that we're not about to have a second front open up. I'd also like to make sure that none of the people we're looking for are planning on coming here."

"'Professional disagreement'? Are you a traitor to the crown, Lord Sheldrake?"

"No. If certain people have acted outside the laws of the land, it is perfectly legitimate to bring them to justice. Even if they think you shouldn't."

"And you just want us to be neutral?"

"That's all we're asking."

She exhales, pouting as she does so. Then she looks away from him. "And what does that get us?"

"What would you like to get out of it?"

"Machinery, magic books, serfs and the crown of Britain."

"We can certainly do the first two. I'm afraid that Britain abolished serfdom about nine hundred years ago, and offering you the crown is a bit outside my remit."

She looks back, frowning. "If you don't have serfdom, what are you doing with all those people we've already sent you?"

I see Lord Sheldrake's right hand clench into a fist. "What they did to them is what they're being arrested for. You have my sincere apologies and I will be happy to discuss things in full once they've settled down a bit back home, but right now we need-."

A tremendous gong noise echoes through the castle. I actually wince a bit, and Frimost hisses as he covers his ears. Morgana looks fully alert for the first time since we came in here.

"Mother's calling."

{red}26th October
23:05 GMT{/}

Tottering on metre long wooden legs, Princess Morgana's chair somehow manages to make it up the steps up the inside of the tower without dropping her. Frimost is just ahead of her, and I can just about hear him-

"Presenting her highness, Princess Morgana of Camelot."

-as she makes it through the exit and onto the balcony. Lord Sheldrake is just behind her, at what I imagine he thinks is a safe distance if she takes a tumble. {trans}And yes, there's someone powerful up ahead.{/}

"Her guest, Lord Cyril Sheldrake. And escort."

Lord Sheldrake exits the corridor without any other fanfare, and Faceoff emerges into the open air a moment later. Alright then, let's see-

{yellow}You could just have me scan them, Corpsman.{/}

-what she looks like. Yes I could, except that in her place of power she would almost certainly feel it and that would blow your cover. I don't think that I'll be able to pretend to be dumb muscle before a magic user of her reputed power, but I can at least disguise my precise advantages.

{yellow}Reasonable.{/}

I step out into the night sky and ah. Now I see why she wanted us to join her here. There must be at least a thousand fully kitted out hobgoblin soldiers down there, along with a cluster of humans who I presume to be officers or mages. And at the far end of the causeway is a gate. Not the Gate-gate; it's a good deal smaller and the hobgoblin block is forced to break into lines as they prepare to pass through. The numbers wouldn't be a problem in the medium term, but they would cause a lot of casualties passing through into a modern city. Exactly how much would depend on how physically powerful they actually are, but I don't really want Justice League interference during the reconstruction.

Hm.

"Impressive sight, aren't they?"

I tear my eyes away from the small army and look at our host. Queen Morgan le Fay is standing at the tip of the promontory overlooking the causeway, her daughter's chair parking itself a little way away while Sir Cyril stands just behind her. She looks quite a lot like her Justice League animated counterpart, gold-coated plate armour decorated with a purple cloak and green helmet plumes. Some effort has been made to make the faceplate resemble the face beneath, but I'm guessing that the full body coverage means that her physical body is just as decayed as it was in Justice League Animated.

Lord Sheldrake turns away from her to look down at the assembled throng. "I don't know enough about them to assess them."

Naturally, she isn't talking to me, so I take another moment to take in the hobgoblins' equipment before returning to my station behind Lord Sheldrake. No guns, but I am seeing a preponderance of shields, cudgels and a sort of heavy knife. The hobgoblins are wearing heavy armour, but that doesn't look like a spree-killing force. It looks like a medievalist's attempt at riot police.

"Strong enough to secure the centre of London against anything that could be sent against them within a few days." She turns around to look directly at him. "I received a most curious message less than an hour ago. My relationship with the government of Britain has always been moderately awkward, given that I claim to be their legitimate queen. And yet less than an hour ago they requested that I aid them by sending a military force into their territory."

Lord Sheldrake just nods.

"When I felt the portal in the Justinian Club activate, I thought that they were sending a representative to explain the situation in full. Except that not even an hour later another representative arrived, this time through the Marble Arch gate."

Marble Arch was used as a portal for a distraction attack during one of her arcane theft campaigns. Official records of the event say that it was sealed. I didn't pay it much attention because I didn't know about this place, but I suppose if they sealed it then it makes sense that they would know how to unseal it.

"Should I assume that you would rather that I didn't interfere?"

"That would be an accurate assumption, your majesty."

She raises her right gauntlet to her mask and taps her right forefinger against the metal. "Would you like to know what they've offered me?"

"Do you intend to have us bid against one another?"

"It does seem that it is in my interests to do so."

"You've got a lot of hobgoblins down there, but it won't be enough. Even if you stormed central London right now, all you'd achieve is a lot of death. You couldn't hold it, your force would be wiped out by the counterattack and then you wouldn't be able to hide what you've got here any longer."

"Opening with threats? Not the wisest course of action for one standing in my city."

"I'm just telling you what will happen."

"I don't think you understand how desperate you've made them."

"Fairly desperate I'd imagine, if they're talking to you. But it still won't work. With all the information we put into the public domain-."

"There are ways around that."

"In your day, certainly. In modern times, the internet-."

"I know what the internet is. Quite aside from the fact that I can come and go as I please, I've been sending geas-bound servants to wait on the members of the Caligula Club for decades." That would explain the loyalty. I'll have to check that, of course. "And they report back to me." She lowers her right hand. "The Masonic branch of their alliance will abandon the sybaritic part to assuage the public fury as easily as a salamander abandons its tail. They will then use the institutions of state to rebuild the nation in their image."

"Will they now."

"I'm sceptical. On the other hand, I only stand to benefit from Britain's disarray. If all contenders to the throne exhaust themselves fighting one another, it will be far easier for me to return, destroy those few who remain standing and take my rightful place as queen."

"Are you aware that the Queen of Britain is essentially a figurehead for an elected government?"

She holds out her left hand, green.. symbols forming in the air around it. "How long do you think it would take me to work around that restriction?"

Hm. I don't hate the idea. If I release what I have on the royal family, we could probably slide her into the job. She is British royalty. If she were appropriately advised-.

No no no. This isn't Kahndaq. {trans}Or Apokolips.{/} We're not trying to create a ruling New God elite here, we're just trying to fix a few things. No subversion, nothing that would ruin our work if it came into the light. Circe has eaten humble pie, been significantly depowered and now she's making herself useful. Morgan just wants to seize control because it's what she does. For goodness sake, they still have serfdom here. This isn't a step forward.

"Long enough for Britain to unmask you." Queen Morgan makes a fist with her left hand as Lord Sheldrake decides to continue his confrontational approach. "But, alright; you could make things difficult. What do you want?"

"An open gateway; free passage between our worlds for myself and my retainers."

"We might-."

"I haven't finished." She looks out, past the causeway and into the city. "Artefacts of power and arcane lore. Particularly anything relating to-" Green fire appears around her hands for a moment. "-{red}Merlin{/}."

"We… Might be willing to trade. I can't promise you things I don't personally own."

"And an agreement that my daughter will marry into the royal family, in the fullness of time becoming queen."

Lord Sheldrake shakes his head, but I think I detect a faint smile. He's not taking that part seriously. "We don't organise-."

There's a tremendous crash from a tower on the far side of the causeway as its door explodes outwards, smashed from its moorings as a hobgoblin armsman goes sailing through it and off the battlement.

Through the resulting dust stalks {red}Derek Kelly{/}.

"Queen Morgan. You appear to be negotiating with the traitors. Would you care to explain why?"

{red}26th October
23:09 GMT{/}

Queen Morgan makes a small circling motion with her right hand, catching the projectile hobgoblin in a gust of air and conveying him safely back to ground level. Now, with conventional super strength that would be too little too late: the force of the blow alone would have mashed his organs. But Major Kelly works like Bruce Willis's character from Unbreakable; he isn't super strong all of the time, he just scales up to whatever obstacle is in his way. The hobgoblin is clearly hurt, but not mortally.

"Because this is my country and I do what I want here. And I do not approve of one of my guests assaulting my staff."

Lord Sheldrake inclines his head slightly. "Major Kelly."

Kelly {red}glares{/} in response. "Traitor. And Grayven. And the serial-killing fishmonger."

Faceoff raises his gun slightly. "{red}Sir{/}."

Queen Morgan bows her head slightly. "I may not know exactly what is happening on the other side of the gate, but I imagine that it's more of a concern to you than it is to me. And since I doubt that either of you would willingly offer me more than the other, we're at something of an impasse."

Kelly doesn't seem overly concerned. "Only until I kill them." I smile, and draw my daisho. "Your plot is already failing. Enough senior civil servants made it to well defended bunkers to maintain the government, and we're working on breaking Castle Baaleskine's defences. Once they've fallen, we'll notify the rest of the Security Council of your coup attempt and call in the Justice League to arrest you."

Got all the ministers, then. Well done Mr Head.

Lord Sheldrake holds up his empty hands. "Kelly, we don't have to kill anyone."

"It will be quicker if you don't resist. Do you really think for a moment I'd let an alien overthrow the British government and replace it with his puppets?"

"Kelly, have you seen what those people were doing?"

"Yes. And I've seen the Justice League's intelligence on Apokolips. I know which is worse."

"Those aren't the only-."

"Stop talking to me." He bends his legs slightly. "Your father was a good patriot. For his sake I'll make sure no one finds out what you did."

Lord Sheldrake raises his hands slightly in a gesture of appeal pointed at Queen Morgan. She tilts her head to the side. "Trial by combat is an accepted way of settling otherwise insoluble disagreements in Camelot. And I usually find it somewhat a..-" Her mask locks onto the Sword of the Fallen. "-musing. Where did you get that sword?"

I smile. "Right of Conquest, your majesty. I took it out of an enemy's hand and then decapitated him with it."

"Hmm." Her files say that she's a magic artefact magpie. And if you're not used to interfacing with Apokoliptian soul-based technology it is the most interesting thing here. Bit surprised she didn't notice it sooner. Ignoring the 'help' or was the sheath interfering with her exotic senses? "And where did he get it from?"

"John Constantine."

She doesn't say anything for over a minute, and I'm actually slightly concerned that Kelly is going to jump the gun and leap across. I'm confident that with power rings functioning I can beat him, but I'm not certain that Lord Sheldrake and Faceoff would survive the experience and I'd rather keep them alive.

"Is he any relation to Kon-Sten-Tyn?"

Lord Sheldrake looks from me to her. "Who is that?"

She continues to stare at me. "Do you know?"

I nod. "After Mordred and Arthur killed one another, Merlin was desperate for a king who would stand up for paganism against the encroaching Christian hordes. His second choice turned out to be a fellow by the name of Kon-Sten-Tyn. Decent swordsman and commander, and he had a rare talent for magic. But I don't think he can have been a direct ancestor; he ritually sacrificed both of his sons to extend his own life."

"No." Morgan sounds almost pleased. "Just those sons he sired on powerfully magical women. His mortal sons and daughters he left to their own devices." She leans forward slightly, as if imparting a great secret. "Do you know how he died?"

Um… Was a.. while ago I read that copy of Hellblazer. "Converted to Christianity as a ploy to corrupt the early church, ended up in a monastery with… Merlin's severed but still living head, and… Got carried off by a dragon and recognised as a minor saint?"

"Nearly. He took control of the dragon and flew here. His work done, he decided to sire a new son to kill and sacrifice. Instead, I sacrificed him, and the daughter he sired-" She glances at Morgana. "-lives still."

She's a Constantine?

Kelly leaps, covering the ten metres distance easily and landing lightly on the far side of the balcony. "Fascinating as I'm sure that is to people without anything better to do, I heard 'trial by combat' earlier. Can we start now?"

Queen Morgan stares imperiously at him. "I was going to offer my late lover's reanimated corpse to serve as your second. But if you're going to continue to abuse my hospitality, you can manage on your own."

"Yes. I can."

Faceoff raises his gun to his shoulder. "Go for it."

I shake my head. "Faceoff, he's invulnerable to conventional attack. That gun won't even distract him." I raise my eyebrows at Kelly. "How about we just make this one on one? I imagine that you want a rematch almost as much as I do."

"Actually, I don't care about you one way or the other. You're just another obstacle I have to kill."

I… What? "I… What? But I.. shoved you through that portal and injured you for the first time since you had that gem implanted."

"I'm a professional, not some American pro-wrestler. If you want histrionics then you should have stayed on the other side of the Atlantic."

That's it. Killing him. {trans}I'M A GOD YOU FUCK! DON'T TREAT ME LIKE A LOWLIE!{/}

{green}No{/}. No, hang on. M'gann told me to be clear to the people around me about what I'm feeling and why. Otherwise, they can't stop being prats.

My smile probably doesn't look particularly genuine.

"I am mildly offended that you don't consider our previous fight special, but I will happily remind you of its significance. Lord Sheldrake, please step aside."

"But this won't solve anything. Whichever of you wins, all of the information is in the public domain. We already rescued people from the Caligula Club, and they'll be talking to everyone. You can't hush this up! The only way for Britain to keep working is for us to go with Grayven's plan and stop him if he turns out to be evil later."

Yeah, good luck with that, tin can man.

"No. It isn't. I'm going to kill him, then you and-" He glances at Faceoff. "-Darren." Oh, that's his name. "Then Queen Morgan is going to lend me her army and I'm going to defend my country. Get out of my way so you don't embarrass yourself."

I can hear Lord Sheldrake sigh. He walks aside. "Grayven, don't kill him if you can avoid it."

I breathe calmly in and out, eyes fixed on Kelly. "I'm not really sure how you plan on winning this. You got me before because your anti-weapon wards got my power rings. They work fine here, I've tested them. You can't fly."

"The only thing you've got that can hurt me is that sword."

"I'm reasonably confident that dropping you in a black hole counts as a 'win' for the purpose of this duel."

He reaches into one of his pockets with his right hand and pulls out a… Small stone? And {yellow}crushes it to powder with his bare hand.

"A superior potential bearer has been detected." My yellow ring vanishes from my right hand with such force that it knocks my daiklave to the ground. "Identify yourself."

"Derek Kelly. Host of the Terror Thing."{/}

{red}26th October
23:13 GMT{/}

{yellow}Fear. I haven't felt fear like this since Father-.{/} {trans}My Corpus is My Temple!{/}

{orange}Grh{/}.

My armour's tron lines {orange}shift to orange{/} as for the first time since I got my orange personal lantern back I start running on a single ring. For his own part, {yellow}Kelly manifests construct armour that appears to be made of eye clusters and gaping mouths{/} as the Terror Thing tries to {yellow}create a construct body for itself{/}.

Balls.

I {orange}grab{/} my daiklave from the ground. Alright, how do I win this? He's now as fast as m-

Kelly {yellow}lunges, eyes glowing brilliant yellow inside the duller yellow construct monster enveloping him{/}. I swing my daiklave {orange}as I fly directly upwards{/}, a small portion of his nightmarish construct parting around the blade.

-e, and can generate constructs. And if that's the Terror Thing from Hellblazer then he's probably a more powerful Lantern than I am. On the plus side, my habit of using Sinestro more than my orange ring means that he's got slightly less power left than I do. And he's got no experience, so even with Sinestro advising him h-

{yellow}A metre wide beam of yellow light blasts upwards towards me{/} and {orange}I'm forced to desperately jink and weave and frankly cross my fingers{/}. A few momentary glancing hits, but nothing my armour can't cope with.

-im I should find forming constructs easier. I {orange}switch to lateral motion{/}, giving him the worst possible angle for his shots as I fly over Camelot. Assuming that he can think clearly enough to even form constructs with the Terror Thing inside him. That said, if the thing survived an encounter with John Constantine it can't be completely stupid. I don't.. really remember what happened to it in the comics and I never thought to look into it here.

Ping.

Yes, okay, that's obvious now, but-.

{yellow}There's another flare of yellow light{/} behind me, and I look back to see Kelly lumber into the air with {yellow}giant wing-constructs projecting from his back{/}.

Hah. If Sinestro thought that I was bad, I can only imagine what he's saying to someone who creates constructs in order to fly.

Fly… Ah, fairly fast, actually. Mother Box?

Ping.

Boom tube.

Ping.

I watch as he comes on, his construct skin becoming {yellow}more streamlined{/} as he gets some sort of control over his ring. MY ring. Hm, probably won't work but I may as well try… I sheathe my daiklave, draw a blaster and shoot it at his left construct wing. {trans}Burn!{/}

{yellow}A bright yellow barrier manifests for exactly the half a second it needs in order to block my shot{/}, allowing Kelly to continue flying at me untroubled by the attack. I risk another shot -same effect-, then step through the tube back onto the balcony and shut it down.

"Grayven-."

I return my blaster to its holster then raise my right hand to cut Lord Sheldrake off. Right, his wing constructs might be strong, but they didn't look agile. My original plan for dealing with Kelly involved slicing through his spine from behind, then digging the Eye of Zoltec out of him from behind while his arms were paralysed. And if I could still use the Garrick Formula I'd still give it a stab. But with access to constructs he can bypass his own spine to control his body or just grab me with construct arms. Construct arms would be less dangerous, of course…

{orange}What's Kelly up to{/}?

Heh, he's looking for me with his eyes. He seemed to be the intelligent sort before. Is the Terror Thing making him more bestial? How-? Ah, there he goes. {yellow}Monstrous construct eyes manifesting around him and locking onto me almost immediately{/}. {orange}An FTL jammer might give me a cheap kill{/}, but he doesn't seem like he's the sort to go for it. No, he's wheeling in the air and flying back. Twenty seconds, boom tube now.

Ping.

I run to the place where Kelly crushed his stone and {orange}scoop up as much as I can{/} before diving through the tube, returning to my original location moments before Kelly {yellow}slams{/} into the balcony. And… Back to {orange}flying away from the city{/}. And… {orange}Go for height as well{/}. I want to see what this world looks like when taken in the round.

Kelly spots me almost immediately and… {orange}I generate gravity impeller constructs{/} and accelerate away. I'll burn though power a little quicker… I pull my blaster back out of its holster and fire it directly back at him. He {yellow}blocks{/} each {yellow}shot{/}, but doing so is costing him ring power and only costs me blaster battery.

Modern Camelot is a decent sized place, by the standards set by their technology. And it's actually enclosed in a fortified wall. Makes me wonder if hobgoblins are used as labourers-. No, if that were the case I doubt that proto-union dispute Lord Sheldrake stuck his oar in on would have been resolvable in quite that fashion. They'd be good at open cast mining, but they're not exactly made for narrow tunnels.

The land beneath me is forested, and in other directions I can see fields crossed with roads. No tarmac, of course, but stone paved in the Roman style rather than the dirt tracks which historically characterised Britain's highways until the establishment of turnpike trusts during the nineteenth century. I suppose it's like Themyscira; they may have only primitive technologies but they've had all the time in the world and -given that the same woman is in charge- none of the social upheavals that would undermine infrastructure construction efforts.

I glance back and ah. Kelly has realised that he doesn't need to block attacks with constructs when he can just as easily block them with his body. {yellow}An added set of dragonfly wings{/} allows him to easily viff and keep his main source of thrust out of the line of fire. Distance between us appears to be slowly decreasing, but since I'm not 'fleeing' so much as 'running down the clock' the fear that might otherwise have come from a slowly-gaining unstoppable menace just isn't coming. Alright, he doesn't appear to be jamming FTL himself, so is a backstab actually possible? Leave that for plan B. Ring, {orange}analyse the stone dust I picked up{/}.

{orange}Material is granite. Minor physical anomalies from expected material behaviour. Unable to identify source.{/}

Magic?

{orange}Unable to confirm.{/}

Fair enough. Hm. Alright. {orange}assimilate{/}-.

{yellow}"RAAAAGH!" Two construct arms -one a distorted human arm with eight fingers and the other a mass of mutating tentacles- rush towards me from Kelly{/}! The hand {yellow}snatches{/} at me and I'm forced to roll in the air, losing forward acceleration in exchange for lateral motion! The long nail of the fourth finger {yellow}scrapes along my{/} armour, and my construct engines {yellow}shimmer and weaken{/} at its touch. And now he's gaining, marvellous. The arm {yellow}curls back towards me{/}, {yellow}growing a fourth elbow{/} as it does so. Ugh. I take a firm grip on the Sword of the Fallen, voluntarily {orange}reduce my speed{/} further so as to make it overshoot and slash at its wrist. The construct frays from the stab and fades slightly-.

And the tentacle mass {yellow}starts wrapping itself around my legs{/}.

{red}26th October
23:16 GMT{/}

I make another wild slash at the arm construct while I {orange}form buzz saw constructs{/} and rather urgently {orange}try slicing through the strands wrapping themselves around my calves{/}. The tendrils themselves are being projected from the centre of a circular and richly-fanged maw and.. {orange}given how resilient they're proving to be, I'm not eager to test their strength against my armour{/}! Two sets of jaw-rings {yellow}undulate and clamp against themselves in eagerness{/} as the tendrils {yellow}begin pulling me in{/}!

I bend, grabbing a probing tendril with my right hand and very carefully slicing through it with the Sword of the Fallen. Hopefully these are all part of one large construct and it will-. No, it's a cluster of separate ones. Fast, stab, stab and pull! The construct tethers part, fraying and failing as I come free. I start to pull away from the monstrous maw once more, and turn away-.

The remains of the monstrous hand strike me full in the face, smashing me back into the mouths. Immediately, the teeth penetrate my environmental shield and start grating against my armour. I {orange}twist{/}, wedging myself in the mouth tube with my feet pressed against the far side and my back against the other. Fine, my constructs aren't top quality. Let's see you overpower super strength!

{yellow}More tendrils rise from the interior as the mouth extends above me, blocking my view of the exterior world{/}. I stab with the Sword, slashing at the mouth's interior and severing the tendrils before they can get a grip on me. That done, I repeatedly stab at the interior of the mouth! Come on, {orange}fail{/}, damn you!

The {yellow}mouth undulates{/}, attempting to draw me further inside. Ugh, I'm not even sure which way I want to go. Kelly must have caught up by now and there isn't actually a stomach down there. It's just-.

The mouth {yellow}clamps down in all directions, new teeth sprouting and through the slashes I've already made I can see additional mass being added from the exterior{/}. He's not trying to drag me anywhere, he's just going to use this construct to crush me!

Mrghh! {orange}Bracing girder construct{/}. Mother Box, any chance of a boom tube?

Ping.

I don't think he'll be so generous. Ring, {orange}is FTL an option{/}?

{orange}Yellow light presence too great for transition. Warp is available, but unwise.{/}

AgH! The teeth underneath my back just.. spiked through into my skin. The ones pushing at my feet I can just kick to mist but my back is anchored in place. It hurts, and it'll only get worse as they push through my flesh. Fortunately, I'm tough all of the way through so it won't be quick, and if I twist-. Good, gone for the moment.

Raw construct force isn't-

The {orange}girder construct{/} moans and starts to fracture.

-going to work here, so let's try something more orange. {orange}What sort of overlord doesn't have a giant monster in the basement{/}? Ring, {orange}assimilate{/}.

{orange}Identity theft in progress.{/}

The yellow light around me dims as {orange}orange light filters into its structure{/}. A little of the pressure falls away as the fact that {orange}I don't want to be eaten at all{/} becomes more of a factor and {yellow}the fact that some of the mason's victims were afraid of being eaten{/} matters less. Hah, hooray for {orange}weaker constructs{/}. And… {orange}Stab there and there, sheathe the Sword and grab and pull{/}!

The side of the gullet comes apart, revealing a mess of mutant construct flesh, monstrous eyes and tiny arms and insect feelers. Right, grab. Ring, {orange}keep assimilating{/}. Aerodiscs to full {trans}and GET OUT OF MY WAY!{/}

Eyes burst, flesh is rent and the construct starts to collapse around me! As I start to gain momentum I reach down with my left hand to grab the Sword and thrust it ahead of me, cutting through the yellow construct and bursting through into the open air! {trans}I Stand Triumphant!{/}

{orange}Very much better out than in{/}. Mother Box, boom huruughh!

{yellow}"Hello, Grayven."{/}

Kelly's right hand is around my throat and slowly squeezing! I move my left arm to stab him with the Sword but he just grabs my left hand with his own. Guhh. It's not fast, but he will rip my head off like this. Ring, {orange}assimilate{/}.

{orange}Unable to establish connection.

Transition{/}?

{orange}Unable to comply.{/}

Ring, {orange}make any progress with the dust{/}?

{orange}Task suspended.{/}

This is what I get for using Sinestro for everything for so long. Uhk! {orange}Assimilate that{/}!

{orange}Energy absorption in progress.{/}

{yellow}"Urugh. R-hah."{/} Kelly grins as he starts to push my left hand back towards me. {yellow}"I don't know what you're doing, but it won't be enough. It's never taken me more than a minute to crush a man's throat."{/}

{orange}Assimilate faster{/}! {trans}I Stand Firm!{/}

{orange}By your command.{/}

The pouch containing the crushed stone {orange}shines brilliant orange for several seconds, and I feel Kelly's grip actually weaken{/}.

{yellow}"You're already… You're already in my grip. Banish the Terror Thing and you still can't get away.{/}

"Ooh 're oo tr'n oo cnvnce?"

Because dangerous though this situation clearly is, I'm… Actually not afraid. All those fears in the Terror Thing are making the constructs strong, but my own aren't adding to it. Ring, {orange}radio Lord Sheldrake{/}. Message: got any banishment gear?

{orange}Message sent.{/}

{yellow}"The Terror Thing is a mindless weapon. It serves me, now, and your weak attempt to damage our link won't stop me."{/}

{orange}Oh no it isn't and oh no it doesn't and oh yes it will{/}. Mother Box, boom tube behind him.

Ping.

BOOM.

A fraction of a second with less than total attention on me and I turn my left hand, release the Sword and {orange}pass it to my right{/}.

{orange}And then I swing it through his right wrist{/}.

And {orange}breathe{/}! I gulp down fresh air while {orange}tossing aside{/} the still gripping severed hand. {yellow}He's backing off in the air{/} even as I try a {orange}swing for his head{/} and miss. Damn, he's wearing Sinestro on his left! {orange}Press on{/}!

The Sword pierces {yellow}Lynne's face{/}-. No, it's just a construct blugh!

Kelly {yellow}punches me with his remaining hand, generates another giant construct hand and throws me towards the ground{/}!

{red}26th October
23:18 GMT{/}

The shockwave of my landing probably ruins the field, but I ignore my surroundings in favour of cutting through the construct hand's fingers with the Sword. This was either a rushed job or powered by his own fears; it's human in shape and after the initial grab-and-slap didn't exert much force on me. It's just trying to keep me down rather than do anything likely to cause me lasting damage. Two fingers and it fails completely, letting me get to my feet.

Let's see… Engines, girder, a couple of assimilation attempts… Ring, how are we doing for power?

{orange}Ninety three percent remaining.{/}

And those giant constructs must have cost him more than that. So as long as I nobble him if he tries to get {orange}my yellow lantern{/} out to recharge… Would that occur to him? If the bloody Sinestro program required me to kill Green Lanterns, become a tyrant or achieve enlightenment then he-.

I {orange}dodge violently{/} as a {yellow}beam of yellow energy bursts through the clouds of dirt{/} and blasts into the ground! Yes, yes! Burn power. Ring, {orange}can we tell how much he has left{/}?

{orange}Assuming that he has not recharged since the fight began, his construct usage should leave him with around seventy percent full charge.{/}

Uh. I'm not eager to get eaten another three times. Something else, then.

{yellow}A hail of smaller yellow light bolts home in on my position{/}, though not all that accurately. I hesitate to dodge, experimentally letting one hit me in the chest before I {orange}start an evasive pattern{/}. Auh. Punched through my environmental shield easily enough, but my armour stopped it and it didn't sap my orange light effects. So: don't want to get hit by a whole -ow- swarm, but one or two aren't a problem.

Why aren't they all hitting?

Okay, yes; constructs can be a light speed weapon, but even a powerful lantern will usually only fire energy bolts at a couple of times the speed of sound. But even at that speed {orange}he's{/} not that far away from me. I should be getting hit by most of these rather than the odd one. So why aren't I?

The dust is diffusing the orange glow around me. It doesn't matter how many construct eyes you've got if none of them can see your target. He's still not scanning. I {orange}create a humanoid construct of me{/} and {orange}dim my environmental shield{/} and yes, most of the shots start aiming at that instead of me. I have it {orange}stumble{/} and {yellow}big beam{/}! Immediately I dim my environmental shield further, and hope that the additional dirt thrown into the air will conceal what's left.

Ring, {orange}passive detection only{/}. {orange}Let me know if he calls the lantern{/}.

{orange}By your command.{/}

But what now? The Terror Thing is inhabiting his whole body. There's no one target I can strike to {orange}destroy it or banish it{/}. Disabling him in one hit when his constructs are strong enough to hurl me back is a pipedream at best-.

{orange}Message received from Lord Sheldrake.{/}

Kelly doesn't seem to be taking the bait, though I can see the yellow glow marking his location. {orange}Play{/}.

I've got a charmed knife, but I doubt that it would pierce Major Kelly's skin. Do you need it?

Ah, for access to a hush tube. {orange}Response{/}: get ready to pass it to me.

{orange}Message sent.{/}

I might get a stab. But I'd have to hit his brain to neutralise him… Or would that just result in me fighting the Terror Thing? Or… I don't know exactly where in his body they stuck the Right Eye of Zoltec. I doubt that it would be in his arms or legs, so… Somewhere in his chest. It would make his organs invulnerable to being cut by its sharp edges so he wouldn't have to worry about that. … No, there are just too many places it could be for me to be able to reliably hit it. And I'm not sure what would happen if I did.

I'm.. coming up short here. Actually invulnerable people are a pain to fight. Another super tough lantern and I'd put my faith in my regenerative abilities in a high magic environment, but like this…

The Kelly blur {yellow}glows brighter for a moment{/}, and then {yellow}yellow lights start shining from all around me{/}. Some sort of.. construct warrior? I hope so, that would be a decent drain on his reserves. But if he's sending infantry in, I need to get out.

Think think think. It's still dark, there were woods over there and I'm not glowing significantly. Agh, no, can't transition with the Sword and I can't risk leaving it-. No, wait. A subterranean tunnel. I could transition myself, construct-tunnel back and drag it-. No, no, too risky. This sword can kill me far more easily than it can kill him.

Okay, got it. {orange}Two flying hologram generators{/}. Send one towards the searchers that way projecting a faint orange me-shape. Are they reacting? Slightly, but there aren't any incoming shots yet. Fine. Boom tube behind him in two, one, now and send the second one through. I see the {yellow}yellow light blast{/} which destroys the projector, but the first holodrone is flying up through the dust while I use my aerodiscs to get as high as I dare…

Another {yellow}yellow beam{/} and he's looking in the wrong direction and {orange}gogogo{/}! Move the boom tube to Lord Sheldrake and {orange}transmit{/} 'throw it'! I fly at Kelly full speed, the weird {yellow}translucent-monster-body-part armour{/} he's coating himself with spotting me just a little too late. I {orange}lunge Sword first{/}, piercing his defensive construct and slicing open his back… Think I severed his spine, not that he needs the use of his legs.

{yellow}"A-urh."{/}

{orange}Knife incoming.{/}

Kelly's right hand is {yellow}glowing{/} as he {yellow}manoeuvres away from me{/}. I drop past him in the air, a {orange}construct reaching for the inbound knife{/} as I slash at him again. I hit.. something, I can't really see as he {yellow}fires a big beam at point blank range{/}ow-grrr-gahrrr-gah! That hurt, and I can feel the air against the left side of my body where the armour was burned away. {orange}But now I'm going to get him{/}. {orange}Lunge{/}.

He {yellow}backs off again{/} and {yellow}puts up a barrier of cancerous tentacles{/}. Which is fine. I {orange}flare with orange light{/} to disguise my intent, dropping the Sword and leaving it to be {orange}conveyed by construct{/}. To hold his attention I start striking the barrier with my bare fists. {trans}No Bastion Will Withstand Me!{/}

I'm actually knocked back as the force of my punch overwhelmed both aerodisc and ring flight aura. Wrong approach of course. Rip and tear is the way. I {orange}grab{/} and {orange}yank{/} and the barrier starts to fail. Come on Kelly, you're the strongest weapon you have. Yes, good, he's coming back and {yellow}preparing another beam{/}.

{orange}Double backstab{/}.

The {orange}construct-controlled Sword of the Fallen stabs him again{/}, parting otherwise invulnerable construct and flesh. The blade then {orange}turns to widen the wound{/} to allow Lord Sheldrake's knife to pierce Kelly as well.

And ring? {orange}Finish assimilating the crushed stone{/}.

{orange}By your command{/}.

{yellow}"GRRAAAAAGHHH!"{/}

This time I {orange}back away slightly{/}, recalling the Sword of the Fallen but leaving the knife in place. Now {orange}focus on the{/}-.

{orange}Absorption complete.{/}

Kelly {yellow}gasps{/}, a disturbingly death rattle like sound as {yellow}yellow mists violently exits his body, swirling around before clumping together above me to my right{/}. Kelly shudders as the yellow light everywhere else flickers and fails. Ring's still on his finger, but without the Terror Thing-.

{yellow}"Freeeeeeee!"{/}

Ah. The Terror Thing.

{red}26th October
23:20 GMT{/}

It's not yellow this time.

No, it's using its stored arcane power to generate a meat body. Or-. No, it's manifesting one, pulling itself into the material universe and switching its magic form for a fleshy one as it does so. Its surface is a mismatch of parts of the things its involuntary creators were afraid of: pallid, muscular flesh, a almost cartoonish version of a cancerous growth, the eyes of insects and imaginary demons. And other parts, things which could not be part of a living creature. I see brambles, rotting fish, razor sharp tin cans and I'm going to stop looking at it directly now.

The important parts are that it's growing and that Kelly is no longer supercharged.

"Ah-aaargh!"

And he still has a knife in his back.

I {orange}lunge at him again{/} and he {yellow}just{/} about manages to dodge, my slash slicing through his mouth and the side of his face rather than piercing his brain.

And then the {yellow}smell hits me{/}. Burnt flesh -my own burnt flesh from the Thanagarian command carrier- and composting vegetative matter and human sweat and urine-. Ring, {orange}environmental shield to full{/}.

{orange}By your command.{/}

No, the smell's still there. Magic, then.

Kelly {yellow}creates another Lynne construct{/}, but that only really worked because I was surprised. I grab it around the head and crush it, then {orange}lunge again{/}-.

Right into a {yellow}construct of my father{/}. Yes, him I'm {yellow}afraid of{/}, but even a strong construct doesn't have his advantages. One stab and he's disintegrating to nothing, then Kelly {yellow}flies at me{/} through the resulting yellow mist, his hands outstretched to grab my head!

I {orange}block{/} with a {orange}construct shield{/} and swing the Sword of the Fallen across his stomach. He {yellow}shudders{/} as his intestines begin slipping from the wound, but he still appears somewhat coherent. My {orange}shield{/} fractures under his grip as I make a {orange}second slash at right angles to the first{/}.

Then I stick my left hand into the resulting wound, grab a handful of organ meat and pull.

You know? It's not as bad when it belongs to someone else.

"GAAAAAAHH!"

But I haven't got the Eye, and the exterior wound is already closing up. Must have been implanted higher up. Kelly {yellow}forms jet engine constructs{/} and {yellow}thrusts away{/} RAGHH! Fuck! My armour took the thrust fine, but the left of my body isn't armoured right now and that really hurt! I try lifting my left arm but -ow- while I can I doubt it would take any weight.
{trans}Heal.{/}
"Terror Thing!"
{trans}Heal.{/}
Kelly has flown up in front of a major eye cluster, and it appears to be focusing on him. What's that fool trying to do now? It's clearly not going to fit back inside him.
{trans}Heal.{/}
"I am your master!" Says the man whose boots are covered in his own shit. "You will obey me!"
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"I think not."{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
Huh. Looks like some of those mouths can talk.
"I think-" Kelly reaches into one of his upper equipment pouches and pulls out-.

Wait, that's not it, is it? The Eye? I mean, okay, I couldn't check what the Blacks said about the chirurgery, but a pouch? That's a good way to lose it.

"-you'll change-."

I draw my blaster and shoot it. He catches sight of my motion and {yellow}puts up a barrier{/}, but right now he isn't using the Terror Thing's boost or channelling his own fears effectively. The barrier fails, and he doesn't quite get his body in the way fast enough to prevent the bolt hitting… I think it hit? Can't get a clear look.

"{yellow}ByThePowerOfZoltecYouWillObeyMe{/}!"

An uneven field of green light shines out from-. Right, need to do something about that. I {orange}form impeller nodes and blast towards him{/}. Ribs, this time. The light shining onto the Terror Thing appears to be causing a couple of its pupils to dilate, but I'm not seeing any other change.

But just in case…

Kelly {yellow}evades{/}, a chunk of intestine falling off as his regeneration really gets going. Fine, don't care: without a supercharger and with less power than me I can kill him whenever. No, time to put the Sword of the Fallen to its intended purpose again. {trans}I Am Unstoppable!{/}

I strike the Terror Thing… Well, some of its eyes and burst them apart, then carry on to its insides. Feh, yuk. Since this target isn't invulnerable, I {orange}lash out wildly{/}, horribly coloured meat being sundered in all directions. I don't know if this thing has any sort of core for me to stab, but my best bet is probably to head towards the approximate centre of the mass. {trans}I Am Indefatigable!{/}

{yellow}"Weak creature of flesh, coming inside me-"{/}

{yellow}Father/Bill putting his hand/waving his cleaver on my shoulder/through another victim{/}-. {trans}Feeble effort, beast.{/}

{yellow}"-only makes me stronger!"{/}

Some sort of fear-magic. If I wasn't a god and in the process of cutting its innards out that might have made me feel quite unwell. If it had a power ring to back it up, I might have been forced out by a blast of yellow light. But my fears weren't used to create it, so the best it can do isn't good enough. {trans}In fact, now that I look I can intuit the magics holding together the various fear-filled delusions which make up the Terror Thing. I change from slashing wildly to slicing through them, and almost immediately I can feel the Thing start to weaken as the Sword's magics start neutralising it.{/}

{yellow}"You're small! You're weak!"{/}

There's a point of convergence, the central knot holding it together as a unified being.

{yellow}"All will cower before their innermost-!"{/}

{orange}"I AM NOT SOME, DEMENTED TERRIFIED CHILD HELD AT THE MERCY OF THEIR OWN DELUSIONS!"{/} {trans}FALL!{/}

STABSTABSTAB!

{orange}"I AM A GOD!"{/} {trans}FALL!{/}

I strike the nexus, and it evaporates!

{yellow}"RRRRRRRRRWWWWWWWWWWWW!"{/}

{orange}"NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY!"{/} {trans}NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY!{/}

Meat explodes away from me, a titanic geyser of the Terror Thing's physical manifestation raining down across the blasted countryside. I'm grinning as I make eye contact with Kelly. "Would you like to yield now?"

"{yellow}Never{/}."

His left hand {yellow}glows yellow{/}-.

{yellow}"A superior potential bearer has been detected."{/}

Kelly has the presence of mind to keep his hand in a fist so that the ring can't physically leave him, but his flight aura gutters and fails. He tumbles in the air, falling towards the ground-

{orange}Lunge{/},

-{orange}and the Sword of the Fallen pierces the back of his skull{/}.

{red}26th October
23:23 GMT{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
Aaaaaand rest.
{trans}Heal.{/}
I ignore the shuddering lumps of mutant flesh all around us as I lay Kelly on the ground on his front. The locals will have the sense not to eat that, won't they? Queen Morgan probably knows plenty about the safe disposal of formerly-living arcane components, and… Heck, Morgana said that was one of the things they wanted from trade with us.
{trans}Heal.{/}
Ow.
{trans}Heal.{/}
I'm bleeding from wounds in my back, and parts of the upper left side of my body are oozing. Not sure whether it's liquefied body fat, blood, or just ultra-tenderised body tissue suspended in pus. And I'm not going to check. Better just to bear the pain until I heal.
{trans}Heal.{/}
I.. think.. maybe Mortalla can take bedtime story-reading duties tonight.
{trans}Heal.{/}
I gingerly kneel down and pull Lord Sheldrake's knife from Kelly's back. The wound starts healing almost immediately. It was a bit of a long shot that he put it in his brain… Right. I pull the Sword of the Fallen out of his skull and shove the knife into the wound. I'm not.. sure that the Eye of Zoltec won't just consume it, but it should buy me a little time. Then I roll him onto his back.
{trans}Heal.{/}
The yellow power ring bumps again into my right hand.
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"Corpsman-."{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
"Oh, I'm your Corpsman now, am I?" I take a firm grip on the Sword and shove it into Kelly's manubrium. "Because it looked like I was a fling."
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"I programmed this ring to seek out people who inspired great fear. Major Kelly's use of that.. elemental creature misled-."{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
"No, it didn't." I start hacking down Kelly's chest as blood pours from the wound. "It acted entirely in accordance with its programming. The Terror Thing was made of fear, and was far better at inflicting it than I am. It was literally made to do just that. And Kelly was close to your ideal follower: ruthless, loyal, selfless and determined. It did exactly what you meant it to."
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"Am I to take it that you are no longer interested in the use of my ring?"{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
"You're to take it-" I stab the Sword into his spine and pull his ribs apart. It takes effort, but the Sword appears to be weakening his invulnerability enough to make it possible. "-like you should come up with a very good reason why I shouldn't switch over to using two orange rings." Now to start.. feeling around inside him.
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"That would be inefficient. The only benefit would be an expanded charge pool."{/}
{trans}Heal.{/}
Ah! A hard surface. Faceted. About twenty centimetres along its longest axis.
{trans}Heal.{/}
"I value you for your experience. I'd still get that if you were a construct, I could focus my training on using the orange light and I wouldn't risk you going over to my enemy to give them a fighting chance ever again."
{trans}Heal.{/}
Now, do I want to kill Kelly? Well, {orange}yes{/}, obviously, but is that the most sensible thing to do in this situation?

I'm trying to convince Lord Sheldrake and company to go along with me, and I rather think that an uncharacteristic show of mercy… No, clemency, would be to my advantage. Without the Eye he's a negligible threat to me…
{trans}Heal.{/}
I take a firmer grip on the Eye with my left hand and tug it from its mooring tissue without quite removing it from contact with him. Then I use my right hand to remove the Sword from the wound, returning it to its scabbard. Next, I reach for the knife in his skull and remove that as well. The last step is to carefully move the Eye to his exterior without breaking contact with his body.
{trans}Heal.{/}
Huh. I'm actually starting to feel a little better myself. Kelly's father demonstrated the ability to share his resilience with people he touched. I suppose that I'm benefiting from its regenerative properties as well. I hold it pressed against his forehead with my left hand and sit back to watch his injuries knit themselves back together.
{trans}Heal.{/}
{yellow}"I suppose that two beings whose interests aren't identical can never completely trust one another."{/}

"Oh don't even." His spilt blood appears to be more or less evaporating, and I hear a soft click as his sternum reconnects. "I'm using fear and establishing order and if you had any problem with the general direction of my activities you never mentioned it. As far as I know, that's what you want. Is it? Or is there some other cause you have neglected to mention?"

{yellow}"I.. do believe that fear is the most efficacious way to establish order. You used fear as a tool. You do not have it as the centrepiece of your strategy."{/}

"Do you think that Kelly would?"

{yellow}"Inevitably, yes. Regardless of his initial thoughts, his bond with the Terror Thing would lead to him seeing the world in a particular way. If he followed my advice he would not have become completely monstrous, but he would have fit the mould I had for an ideal Corpsman rather better than you."{/}

"Ah. Honesty." Kelly's chest is now in one piece, his severed hand is back, and.. head wound nearly gone. Just a moment or two more. "But you're missing something rather important."

{yellow}"That you won?"{/}

"Partially. And that I'm not your Corpsman. I'm not your soldier. As the only yellow ring wielder I was the Corps. I have to be able to take command level decisions with a clear mind. Raw fear-power might make me a better fighter, but it does not make me a more effective operative or leader. Some fear keeps people motivated. All of the fear and nothing else just paralyses them."

{yellow}"I do not believe that I agree."{/}

"Did Sinestro Fifty create you to empower someone who would carry on fighting Green Lanterns after his death, or was the plan to recruit more supporters for his anti-Green Lantern crusade? Did he program you in the expectation that he would still be around, or not?"

{yellow}"I have instructions to follow in his absence, but… Now that I look, some of his criteria make slightly more sense if viewed through the lens of a man recruiting followers. Might I ask a question in return?"{/}

Kelly looks like he's more or less in one piece. I pick up the Eye of Zoltec and put it into one of my equipment pouches. Not sure what I'm going to do with it in the longer term. Invulnerability is nice, but I'm already very tough so in most circumstances the gain isn't all that great. But giving it to someone squishy like Lex… Or Lynne, or Miss Shimmer… Or if Queen Morgan is having the same problem with immortality that the Justice League Animated version had…

"Uuuuugrh…"

I grab Kelly with my right hand and put him onto my right shoulder. "Certainly." Now, {orange}where did that other gem he was waving around end up{/}?

{orange}Location available.{/}

{yellow}"Do you intend to train more yellow ring users?"{/}

"I don't have strong feelings on the subject." I stride over to the other jewel… Yes, I can see where the blaster hit it. One of the corners is gone, but the effect hasn't spread. Into another pouch it goes. "If there was someone I trusted, someone I thought would do good work with it, and they weren't compatible with an orange ring… Then yes, I would see about getting another yellow ring for them. What makes you ask?"

{yellow}"In the absence of my originator, I think… Furthering the cause of the yellow light is something I… Wish to do. Having that opportunity will also reduce my need to jump onto the first fearsome finger I come across."{/}

"Not unreasonable, and if you'd mentioned any of this ahead of time I'd have been happy to grant your request. As it is…"

{yellow}"I have some significant ground to make up."{/}

"To say the least."

{yellow}"Then… I suppose that I will simply have to accept your decision."{/} He {yellow}bumps{/} into my right finger again.

"I haven't heard an apology yet."

{yellow}"Were you expecting to?"{/}

Hah. I open my right hand and allow him to settle on my ring finger. "I suppose not. Mother Box. Boom tube."

{red}26th October
23:27 GMT{/}

I stride purposefully back through the portal, Kelly draped over my shoulder. Lord Sheldrake gives me a mildly relieved nod, and easily catches his knife as I toss it back to him. I then anchor Kelly in place with my right hand and bow to Queen Morgan.

"Your majesty. Major Kelly is unable to con-" His right hand weakly slaps against the side of my face. "-tinue." It slaps me again. "In any meaningful way. Would you be so good as to call the duel?"

She takes a moment to examine Kelly, who can barely coordinate his limbs let alone offer meaningful resistance. "You stand victorious, Grayven. As per the terms of your agreement with Major Kelly, I will not intervene on his masters' side in your conflict." She tilts her head a little to the left. "I am a little surprised that you allowed him to live."

"He defines himself as being a loyal soldier. Once it's clear that his concerns about me were unwarranted, I imagine that he will be willing to serve the next government with all of the vigour that he served this one. If n-." Uk, his hand's gone in my mouth. I {yellow}remove{/} it. "If not, he's easy enough to kill now."

"What was that creature he summoned?"

"It was called the Terror Thing."

"I heard him name it. I want to know its nature."

"Essentially… Get a large group of people who are obsessively, dementedly afraid of something and draw their fears out with magic and store them in a standing stone circle. Given enough time, those fears will merge into a creature like that. His masters were experimenting with using it as a weapon, directing its madness with a minor wizard. They had some success, but given the resources it required I don't think it was worth it."

"It is not possible to draw out a person's fears cleanly. Such a creature would inevitably take more than they were willing to give it at every turn."

I nod. "Just so."

Lord Sheldrake walks up besides me. "Are we permitted to leave?"

"But of course, my lord." Huh. That's surprisingly-. "Do you know how?"

Ah.

He just nods. "I can't say that I'm entirely surprised that you're not going to let us go back-."

"Oh no, Lord Sheldrake. I wouldn't dream of stopping you. You came in peace, and something approaching honesty. You will come to no harm by my hand."

"But you won't help."

"If you require my assistance, I may be persuaded."

Ping.

No, no. We can't hold their hands all the time. But well done.

Ping.

Lord Sheldrake takes a slow breath. "On behalf of the incoming British Government-" There's a slight shift in Queen Morgan's posture. "-I would like to take this opportunity to establish open diplomatic relations with your kingdom."

"It isn't a separate kingdom. It's just the part of Britain which remained loyal to its queen."

"Alright. I understand that's your position. But The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland doesn't share it, and I'm sure that you know that. You've fought the Justice League before, haven't you?"

"I.. have."

"And you lost. Do you honestly think that your chances of ever becoming queen in fact would be better or worse for having peaceful diplomatic relations with my country?"

"Are you actually going to make me an offer, or just bombard me with empty threats?"

"Peaceful diplomatic relations and trade. Modern Britain knows next to nothing about magic, and the new government is going to want input from friends who know how to cover that weakness. We'd much rather have a friendly neighbour than worry about being attacked by teleporting hobgoblins or an immortal archmage or those.. Morris men. If you want something magical from Earth, buy it or trade for it, or negotiate to use it. You don't need to demand it by force, not when no one is threatening your own kingdom."

"I would have freedom to come and go as I please?"

"Within reason. Foreign heads of state are free to visit whenever they like. But we would consider it an abuse of our hospitality if you did any of those things which led to you fighting the Justice League last time."

"And when could I meet your new ruler?"

"We're not-." Lord Sheldrake straightens slightly, then half-turns towards me. "What are you planning to do with Queen Elizabeth?"

"That's up to her. I will be dropping in on her shortly. Though it may amuse you to know that Princess Margaret's conversion to Catholicism was tied to her genuine repentance for her involvement with the people we'll be removing. And her branch of the family have rather cleared themselves up."

He considers that for a moment, then returns his attention to Queen Morgan. "We should have a new Prime Minister in place in three months. I'm sure whoever it is will be happy to receive you, in the name of ongoing peaceful relations."

"Adequate. Barely."

I smile. "I'll also throw in several tonnes of manifested fear elemental flesh. I'm sure that a magic user of your calibre can find a use for it."

"Now that is a little more interesting. Would the Marble Arch entrance be acceptable?"

"No, not necessary. Mother Box?"

"Ping."

BOOM!

Lord Sheldrake's head jerks in my direction. "You-?" His jaw tenses, then he returns his attention to Queen Morgan. "Thank you for your hospitality, your majesty. I'll see to it that a proper envoy is sent through once we've got things settled down." He bows, then heads through the boom tube. Face-. Darren takes no last looks around, gives his head a small exasperated shake and then follows Lord Sheldrake. I smile brightly at Queen Morgan, then-.

"Grayven. What is your title? I presume that you have one?"

"My father granted me the title 'Suzerain of Earth'. I don't really use it."

She makes a quiet 'hm' noise, but doesn't offer further comment. I suppose… This iteration of Morgan le Fay is surprisingly rational… Buuuut I've already got a Circe, and if Britain can build a working relationship with her by themselves… I don't want to have to do all the work during the uplift process.

I give her and Morgana a cheerful wave, then walk through the portal myself.

And promptly close it afterwards. We're at Speakers Corner, which at this time of night is pretty much deserted. Lord Sheldrake-.

"Exactly how long did you have an exit portal ready?"

"About a minute. Might I say that I was quite impressed by how calmly you were dealing with Queen Morgan?"

"I don't often get the opportunity to talk my enemies down like that. And it would be a pretty sorry state of affairs if I was more violent than you."

Darren looks around. "I can't hear any fighting. What's next?"

{yellow}Sinestro{/}?

{yellow}Update available, C-. Lantern Grayven.{/}

Mmm. Good news all around. "Check in with one or two people, then… BBC News Twenty Four, I think."

{red}27th October
00:03 GMT{/}

There's no sign on the door. No sign on the fence. Even the building number is concealed by the shape of the entrance. Nothing to indicate that this property is unique or special. But with the front of the upper two floors torn out I can see the decorations, prominently featuring the vaguely phallic symbol the.. Invisible Magi or whatever they call themselves use to represent their cult. I can see what look like ritual rooms. {yellow}And with a little effort, I can see the last moments of members who failed in their duties{/}.

Don't see any charred skeletons, which is a bit odd.

BOOM!

Another tube opens to another holding cell, and a g-troll picks up a resisting magus and gently throws him through while a growing crowd watches. I knew it was the case, but it still depresses me slightly that they were all Caucasian men. Haven't we got to the point that our ancient evil conspiracies feel that they can include other ethnicities? Even the Skull and Bones let women in these days.

I amble over to where Mister Talbot is watching proceedings with {orange}a transfixed intensity{/}. "Any get away?"

"Of course not."

"Any dead?"

"One managed to slit his own throat. Bled to death before we could get to him. But as operations go, I'd say that it went rather well."

I make a point of looking puzzled. "You didn't kill any of them?"

His eyes turn my way for a moment before returning to the line of genomorph-guarded magicians. "No. While Mister Doom assures me that they are perfectly competent ritualists, none of them were a physical threat to me."

"Yes?"

"The British police service only uses lethal force in response to an imminent threat to life. We do not do it merely because it would be satisfying, or because an alleged criminal fails to obey an instruction promptly. {green}I will not break the law in that regard{/}. If they had had time to summon a demon, then my hand may have been forced. As it was, I believe that I will derive an even greater satisfaction from watching their trials and convictions than I would from simply snuffing them out."

I shrug. "As you like."

"I'm surprised that you disapprove. Sir Cyril told me that Major Kelly is still alive, and you had a personal vendetta against him."

"I'm the one who will have to sell this to the Justice League. And my eyes grew back. What they did-." I cut myself off. He knows perfectly well what they did to him.

His left forefinger moves to his right ring finger, stroking his wedding ring and power ring in a single motion. "Joanie can watch from heaven as these bastards are tried, convicted and hanged."

"Reinstating the death penalty?"

"The British people have wanted the death penalty back since it was abolished. Never wanted it done away with, actually. And this mess will only cement that support. We can put the relevant legislation through in the Bill authorising the special trials."

"And the retroactive changing of the penalty for a crime that's already been committed."

"No, some crimes still carry the death penalty. It just can't be carried out." His eyes move to the boom tube. "You are certain that they can't kill themselves in there?"

"The g-gnomes are perfectly capable of suppressing self-destructive-."

"Never thought I'd-"

Mister Talbot's head jerks around as soon as he hears the voice, and mine isn't much slower.

"-see the bleeding day."

A g-gnome's horns shimmer and a g-troll lumbers forwards, reaches into the crowd and picks up John Constantine.

"Shoulda seen that c-." Mister Constantine blinks as he sees Mister Talbot clearly. "Geoff?"

"Mister Constantine. Turning up like a bad penny, I see."

"I thought you were dead. You were in Geotroniks when Webster-."

"Yes, I do remember. Pure bloody luck that the armed response unit didn't shoot me, but I survived. And while I wouldn't say I prospered-" He clenches his right fist to show Mister Constantine his power ring. "-in your absence, I have been given the opportunity to strengthen my hand."

Mister Constantine exhales, his right hand-. Oh, he dropped his cigarette when the g-troll appropriated him. "Fuck me. Do you think you actually got all of them?"

"The vast majority. Have you seen-" He inclines his head towards me. "-Mister Grayven's evidence file?"

"No." Mister Constantine glances at me impassively. "He didn't send me a copy."

I shrug. "I put it all online, Mister Constantine. Maybe you should look into getting a computer, so you can look things like that up?"

He looks away from me, towards the slowly moving line as another-

BOOM!

-member of the Somewhat Less Secret Now Magi is sent through.

"Looks like you've got it covered. 'Course, there might be a bit of a problem about who's running the country now."

"Jasmine Abbott, whose hands are remarkably clean. And Queen Elizabeth, whom I'll be talking to at a slightly more civilised hour. Would you like to come along?"

"God, no." He looks around again. "Looks like I picked the right friggin' time to leave the c-."

The street shoots downwards as I'm dragged upwards at speed. {yellow}It's{/}-. Ah, yes.

"Kal-El-." Oh, he won't be able to hear a thing with the wind this strong. Sinestro, {yellow}contact his radio{/}.

{yellow}Contact established, Lantern Grayven.{/}

"Kal-El, that was totally unnecessary and unproductive." He releases his hold and stops in the air, allowing me to go flying for a half-second until my {yellow}flight aura{/} takes hold. Hm, mid Atlantic? He does not look impressed. "You nearly got yourself a lung full of krypton-"

"You just overthrew a government!"

"-ite dust there. Yes, I did, and you know why so why did you think it was necessary to grab me?"

"So no one decides to drop a nuke on central London!"

"I.. don't think anyone would actually do that. We made sure that the Trident system was unavailable before we-."

"What about any country who are worried that they're going to be next? And before you say it, I'm not just talking about how they deal with you. The rest of us are going to be affected as well."

"Given what our targets were doing-."

"Take it from me as a reporter. There is not a single. Government. On Earth. That doesn't have things they'd kill to keep secret. Your friends Jon Horne and Sam Lane? They think I don't know that there's a squad of power armoured soldiers based in Metropolis ready to jump on me if I step out of line. They think I don't know about the billions they've ploughed into anti-Kryptonian weapons, even though I've never given them cause to think they'll need them."

"I'll get that closed down-."

"Don't. I'd much rather have a program I know about than one I don't know about. One run by someone who's cautious rather than genuinely delusional."

"That's completely irrational-."

"Yes, it is. But that doesn't stop them. The best thing you can do is to avoid doing things that set them off. And openly deposing a government is one of those things. Because if you don't, it's probably not you who suffers. We were working on a less direct approach."

"Kal-El." I bring my hands together at my stomach. "It's not that I don't understand where you're coming from. It's just that I.. don't care where you're coming from. I am not a reporter. And I have no problem at all in fighting everyone who thinks they can stop me improving the Earth." Mother Box, boom tube.

Ping.

"Be so good as to pass that along to the rest of the League, would you?"