miracles

Miracles, Inc.

Issue # 07

They are flights of fancy given human form. They are the legends and heroes who haunt the subconscious... they are living Miracles.

Written by Travis Hiltz

Strange Situations, Wild Occupations

Occasionally, a dragon will fly by or some bit of rogue magic will cause purple lightening, but for the most part the view just serves to remind people that they are cut off from the rest of the world.

Kids still watch the sky. That’ll never change. They want to see the dragons, the fairies and occasionally, a super hero. Several pause on their way to school to wave at the blonde man in the blue leotard as he flies over the city and lands on top of the Post Office tower.

Miracle Man would have waved back, but he was afraid that he’d spill his coffee. Those little cardboard cups are never sealed tightly enough.

Dangling his red booted feet off the edge of the tower, the blonde hero watched as the city started its day. He blew on his coffee ( two sugars, extra cream) before taking a sip.

“Not a bad way to start the day,” Miracle Man sighed, as the sun crept through the clouds and shone down on London.

When you’ve had your very existence radically altered by crazed beings, intent on warping space and/ or time, it really made you appreciate the simple things in life. Miracle Man shooed away a couple pixies that were trying to get into the paper bag with his scone.

Since taking a leave of absence from the Pendragons and then clashing with a dark, alternate version of himself, as well as finding out he wasn’t the only ‘Miracle’ walking the streets of London, Miracle Man had been content to do not much of anything. He did go flying a lot, but that was more just to be out in the air, enjoying his freedom, and playing tourist in this new world he’d become a part of. His friend Nigel still called it ‘going on patrol’ and Miracle Man had come across a few crimes, but mostly, he just went flying because he could.

“I wonder how the working folk are spending their morning?” He mused, biting into a raisin scone.

In the case of one, Patrick Steed, senior accountant for the Inland Revenue service, he arrived promptly at work, got himself a cup of tea, checked his e-mails, then got into an argument with his umbrella.
Aside from the bit with the umbrella, it was a pretty typical morning.

Patrick’s normal, organized, borderline mind-numbingly dull, life had been severely disrupted several weeks ago, when he suddenly became aware that he shared his existence with the dashing man with no time for crime, Big Ben.

Thinking Ben’s arrival was in fact caused by some kind of mid-life crisis, he’d made prosac one of his essential food groups for several weeks. After the battle of the Miracles in London and attempts by Jim Jaspers to gain control of all reality, Patrick and Ben had realized they would have to come to some understanding about the life they shared. Feeling a bit disheartened by the Jaspers conflict, Ben had decided to take a holiday from crime fighting and adventuring, allowing Patrick to get on with his life.

He’d kept meaning to say the magic phrase that would release Big Ben, but important things kept getting in the way. The company dinner, his godson’s birthday, Manchester United vs Belgium in the world cup.
Then the voices had started again.

“We had a gentleman’s agreement. Your actions are not even vaguely approaching cricket!”

It just appeared, Ben’s umbrella, where ever Patrick went. He’d found it in the cloak room of his favorite restaurant, at his podiatrist’s waiting room, and in his bedroom.

When the umbrella appeared, there were no voices. It just stood there, leaning against a nearby wall or piece of furniture, blue, neat and shining. It stood there, and Patrick could feel its accusatory glare.
Now, it had invaded Patrick’s sanctum from the horrors and pressures of the world. The umbrella was in his cubicle.

“Stop it,” Patrick hissed over his shoulder. The umbrella continued to just stand in the corner, saying nothing. “I have work to do. We’ll deal with this after six."

“If you keep hounding me, it’ll be that much harder for me to get my work done. Then how can I, in good conscience, give up my time to you? Hmmm?”

Patrick had thought he’d had it with that last argument, but still the wretched thing refused to budge.

“Ah. Looked for a minute like you were arguing with your umbrella. Don’t forget that Lambert portfolio for the meeting tomorrow."

“Yes, nearly... through. Not a problem,” Patrick said, as his coworker wandered off. He then turned back to his paperwork, and through sheer will power was able to concentrate on it for a full seven minutes before he cracked.

“Oh, all right!” He hissed, swiveling his desk chair around and snatching up the umbrella. “ You win, but only for the afternoon. I really need to finish work on that portfolio.”

“Deal.” a voice said. Whether it came from the umbrella or the depths of Patrick’s own mind wasn’t clear and the stressed accountant didn’t feel he wanted to know that badly.

As he took hold of the umbrella, Steed felt a tingle rush up his arm. A brief flash of inner peace, a new feeling for him, washed over him. A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he walked from his cubicle.
“Um... Alice?” He said to the department’s vacuous toothpick of a receptionist. “ I’m... not feeling very well. Going to get some... air, maybe pick up some aspirin. Anybody calls, tell them, I should be back after lunch, please.”

He nodded and strolled to the elevator. Nobody noticed that he hit the up button.

When the Miracles had come to Earth, there had been a rough period of adjustment for them.

Nigel Smalls had been a, more often than not, street musician, with a flat that calling it condemned looking was a compliment and a girlfriend who was open to more of the general public than the local convenience store.

Now, he shared a luxury flat with an alien and a super hero, had mastery over fire and enough money to buy a guitar that actually had more then two strings and sounded in tune.

Nigel sank back on the sofa and sipped from a coffee mug only slight smaller than his head. He was a thin, black man with shoulder-length dreadlocks. He’d borrowed one of Miracle Man’s bathrobes, as he hadn’t had a chance to do any clothes shopping since becoming a super hero. It made him look like a blue terry cloth tent had collapsed on him. The sleeves were too long and flopped around when he moved his arms.
There was a squawk of startled pigeons from the balcony and the french windows opened. Nigel’s room mate returned from searching out the forces of evil or a cup of coffee. Nigel couldn’t remember which.

“ Nigel, everything okay?” MIracle man asked, a look of concern on his handsome features.

“It’s before noon and you’re up and alert looking. I thought you must have accidentally set the bed on fire or something.”

“Funny man,” Nigel replied. “ A regular Lenny Henry, you are. Not everyone feels the need to see the sunrise to reassure themselves it’s a new day. Sides, I was out working my trade till the wee hours.”

“How goes the music business?” Miracle Man asked, settling into an easy chair.

“Very nice. Quite a generous crowd of music lovers at the Chelsea tube station. If you behave yourself, I may even spring for lunch with my new found wealth.”

“You’re turning down a free curry?” Nigel said, puzzled. “ Is it saving the world or a date?”

“Job interview?” Nigel muttered, sitting up. “ Some office lowered their dress code if they let guys in leotards in.”

“Oh, those ‘men in black’ types,” Nigel nodded. “ The ones always tangling with aliens and super villains.”

“Except, with the Barrier up, it’s more like ‘tangling with trolls and super villains’. They’ve been looking to recruit some super powered trouble shooters. We’re getting a bit scarce of late. Most of us got scooped up by either the Commonwealth or Pendragons. Plus, a few are off planet in Braddock's Dark Guard.”

“Yeah, plus, allow me to start building a life for myself as well as pay my own way. It’s nice that Betsy* is letting us use this place, but I want to live my own life.”

(*Betsy Braddock, alias Captain Britain is one of Miracle Man’s Pendragon teammates. - Trav)

“I tried that for awhile,” Nigel said, casually. “ It’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

“Maybe, but I’d like to give it a try. Learning that your entire life has been twisted by some cosmic madmen...”

“...takes some getting used to, I’ll admit,’ Miracle Man continued, ignoring his room mate. “ but, I’m never going to find a place on this world if I spend all my time living on a magic island, only leaving to go fight demons. I want to try, occasionally, living a normal life...”

“Says the seven foot tall, flying man,” Nigel smirked, before draining his coffee cup in a gulp. “Speaking of normal, come check this out.”

He stood up, walked down a short hallway and Miracle Man following. Nigel stopped at a door and knocked gently. When there was no answer, he quietly eased the door open.

The room was sparsely furnished. An empty bookcase, several cardboard boxes and an alien.

The Warpsmith was a white skinned being, dressed in a sleeveless, red, floor length vest-like garment, over a skin tight, red, metallic chestplate. His pants were red, as were his boots. Golden bands encircled his wrists.

The Warpsmith sat, Indian style, hovering three feet above the floor. It was one of the Miracles, brought to this earth at the same time as Nigel and the others. In another reality, the alien had been sent to earth to act as a liaison between a galactic alliance and the emerging super heroes of that earth. Here, it was bonded with a London solicitor.

The Warpsmith, along with Nigel, had taken Betsey Braddock's offer to use the apartment her family kept, but seldom used, in London as a new home base.

The pale alien seemed to be flickering in and out of reality. his body was surrounded by a faint nimbus of white light. His features were in their usual serene set, so his condition, it appeared, was causing him no pain.

“I just noticed it this morning,” Nigel replied. “ but, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him out of his room for the last couple days.”

“Reminds me of when the weather messes with the TV signal,” Nigel said. “ I keep wanting to smack him on the back and see if it helps any.”

“I think that Warpsmith teleportation circuitry is a bit more complicated then the TV. Next you’ll be wanting to wrap tinfoil around his head.”

“I’ll get the phone, you adjust the vertical hold on the alien,” Nigel said, ducking out of the room.
Miracle man peered in thoughtful confusion, while he waited. The Warpsmiths were known across the cosmos for their teleportation abilities. He seemed to remember it came from nano-circuitry imbedded into their brains and skin at birth. They were able to build a galactic empire because they could cross vast distances in mere moments. Though, that was a whole different universe. Miracle Man was unsure if there even were Warpsmiths in this reality or how the crossover of the Miracles may have affected the alien.

“For you,” Nigel said, holding out the phone. “ Very official sounding fellow.”

“Yes. We think you could be a great asset to our organization and would like to put you to work immediately,” The Brigadier said. “We have a situation up north ...”

Miracle man ‘ah-hmmm’d’ and ‘I see’d’ for several minutes, then said his good byes.

“Doubt it, but I ‘m going to join up with a team that’s found something unusual up north. Ever heard of a village called Pease Pottage?”

“Any idea if Betsy has any maps here?” Miracle Man asked. “ I need to meet the WHO team there within an hour or so.”

“I’ll check that desk in the den,” Nigel said. “ You try the kitchen?”

So, there was no one to witness when the Warpsmith ceased winking in and out of reality. He blinked, peered about the room, stretched and rolled his shoulders.

Pease Pottage was one of those small, rural communities that tourist books describe as ‘charming’ or ‘quaint’. The kind of place Agatha Christie would use as the setting for one of her mysteries.

Miracle man flew over the houses and small business, keeping an eye out for something that qualified as ‘odd’. He guessed the large crater with the metallic sphere resting in the center was probably what he was looking for.

Local police had cordoned off the area, stretching yellow ‘do not cross’ tape across the fence that already surrounded the field. The crowd seemed to be made up of police, town residents and a few official looking types, that he guessed were the crew from WHO.

A tall, thin man in a silver- grey suit waved as Miracle man circled the crater, so he landed next to him.

“Ah, glad you made it,” the man said with a friendly smile. “Was hoping either you or the tech crew would get here soon, so we could see about moving it. I’ll be your liaison officer with WHO. You can call me Gabriel."

He had brown spikey hair and an open, handsome face. He looked very fashionable, in an 80’s kind of way.

“So, what’s going on?” Miracle man asked, peering at the object in the crater. It was a large, metal sphere, roughly the same size as a Volkswagen. The metal was dull grey in color and covered with dents and scorch marks.

“The Barrier?” Gabriel replied. “ Still in place. What we are looking at is the first actual UFO contact with Earth since the barrier went up.”

He was shorter then Gabriel and also gave the appearance that he did all his clothes shopping at the 80’s Brit pop boutique for men. His suit was powder blue with wide lapels. There was a smiley face button pinned to his right lapel, which was in direct opposition to the man’s actual expression.

He had shoulder length, prematurely white hair, a high forehead and a mouth that was a tight, grim line. He wore a pair of visor-like, red plastic sunglasses.

“My associate is correct,” Michael said. “ we are looking at the first documented extraterrestrial incursion since the barrier went up.”

“Reports of UFO sightings have dropped 67% compared to pre-barrier,” Michael said, in a dry, lecturing tone. “And most of those have been magical phenomena or the usual crackpots.”

“Most of WHO’s restructuring has been focused on dealing with the sudden influx of magical creatures and whatnot,” Gabriel explained. “But there is also a large amount of effort put into study of the barrier, in the hopes of undoing it or at least allowing passage through it. This ... whatever it is, is our first solid evidence that passage is possible.”

“So, I’m here to not only help deal to with whatever might be in there but to guard what could be a way to penetrate the barrier.” Miracle Man said.

“Correct,” Michael nodded. “ We are looking at the equivalent of finding a naked super model standing in your front yard, holding a winning lottery ticket in one hand and a cure for cancer in the other.”

“Touch of the poet about him, isn’t there?” Gabriel smirked. “ Ready to have a look?”

“Um... sure,” Miracle Man said. “ What have you been able to find out about it.?”

The super hero, book-ended by the two snazzily dressed government agents, began walking toward the battered alien sphere.

“Very little as yet,” Michael said. “ It’s been venting a great deal of thermal energy. Also the metal contains enough trace elements of an unknown nature to keep our scanners from doing more then get readings on the outer casing.”

“From those scraps of information, “ Gabriel continued. “ and the look of the thing, I’d say it was not an easy trip.”

“Correct again,” Micheal said. “ We’d like to fit you with a communicator. You should be able to get closer than our teams. Help us get a more detailed look at the thing or at least allow us to move it to a safer faculty before word leaks out of what we’ve got.”

“With everybody scrambling for any technology that would allow us to pierce the barrier, I don’t fancy standing out in a cow pasture trying to guard the holy grail.” Gabriel said. “ We have a truck en route with a stasis container...”

“But, anyone, “ Michael interrupted. “ from Latveria, Darkmoor or the European Union would be more than willing to ignore international law to get their hands on this. Let’s get to work.”

“He may seem like a bit of a grim pillock,” Gabriel said, steering Miracle Man towards a nondescript van. “But once you get to know him you’ll realize... actually, never mind, Michael is a grim Pillock. I must have been thinking of somebody else.”

“Ummm, right,” Miracle Man said, wondering if maybe he should have reconsidered Brian Braddock’s offer to join the Dark Guard instead.

The back of the van was open and two people were hunched over the banks of equipment crammed within.

The duo was a short, slim blonde man with a friendly smile and a taller dark haired woman with a military posture.

“Oh, it’s you!” the blonde man breathed, taking hold of Miracle man’s hand and pumping vigorously. “ I’m Joe Grant and let me say, it is a ...”

“Autographs later,” Gabriel said. “ Get our new associate fitted with a communicator and a mini-scanner.”

“Right,” the woman said. “ I’m Captain Melissa Yates, by the way. have a seat and we’ll get it all set up.”

“Meet me by the tent when you’re ready,” Gabriel told Miracle Man. “ It’s acting as our office for the moment.”

“Got it,” Miracle Man replied.

He joined his two liaison agents at their makeshift field office, ten minutes later.

A headset communicator had been added to his costume. It had a small ear piece receiver and a mike that was a flat disk adhered to his throat. The mini-scanner looked like someone had cut a pair of eyeglasses in half. One of his gloves had been replaced with one made of a clear plastic with circuitry built into it.

“Well, you look like a Doctor Who villain,” Gabriel said. “ But those two and their gadgets have yet to let us down.”

“And here I was, hoping I didn’t look as goofy as I feel,” Miracle Man replied.

Michael came along and steered the two back towards the sphere. He was holding what looked like a large pocket calculator.

“All right, enough clever banter.” He said. “ The thermal venting has died down some, but still not low enough to let a team at that thing. The transport will be arriving in approximately fifteen minutes,” Michael instructed as they walked. “ We will talk you through things. The opti-lens will hopefully give us a more detailed scan, while the sensors in the glove will help our metallurgy exam...”

“This is just a preliminary scan,” Michael explained. “ anything that looks like instrumentation would be of interest, but we don’t want to start pushing buttons till it’s at the lab.”

“Got it, “ Miracle man said as he took off. He landed within ten feet of the sphere and swayed a bit at the waves of heat coming of it.

“ Zzzzt... are you reading me?” Michael's voice said in his ear. “ Coping with the thermal energy all right?”

“I can see why none of you went too close,” Miracle Man replied. “ The heat is pretty fierce.”

The heat got more intense the closer to the sphere Miracle Man got. Beads of sweat ran down skin that could generally shrug off bullets and flame throwers.

“Yes,” Michael replied. “ Getting some good images. Now, try the sensor glove. Run your hand across the sphere. Let’s see what we can pick up.”

Miracle Man reached forward, but jerked back his hand before he got more than within a couple inches to the sphere.

“That’s probably because the finger tips started to melt,” Miracle Man replied, blowing on his singed hand.
There was a muttering sound in his ears as the WHO agents consulted.

“Joe’s going to see what he can do about boosting the glove signal,” Michael said.

“Okay. I’m going to walk around the sphere now,” Miracle Man said. “Let me know if there’s anything you want me to check out.”

“Now, maybe I’m spoiled by all that Star Trek viewing,” Gabriel's voice chimed in. “ but this thing looks like the UFO equivalent of a cheap used car.”

“He does have a point,” Miracle Man added. “This thing seems to be made of all sorts of metal plates, kind of fused together. Not counting the dents and burn marks from the landing, it still looks pretty shabby.”

“I’m a bit curious,” Joseph Grant said, joining the conversation. “ I don’t see anything that looks like propulsion equipment or any sign of external scanners, etc.”

“So, even if this thing did fly under it’s own power,” Miracle Man wondered. “How did they see where they were going or steer?”

“And two robots will climb out with a message from the Princess?” Gabriel added. “ What’s that round plate off to the right? It looks different from the rest of the sphere.”

“Don’t know,” Miracle Man replied, reaching out his hand with the sensor glove. “Looks like...”

“Touch nothing,” Michael snapped. “ The transfer vehicle will be here in less then ten minutes. We want complete containment before we start fiddling with anything.”

“I’m not touching,” Miracle Man replied, feeling like a kid just lectured by a particularly stern teacher. “Just trying to get the glove closer. This disk doesn’t look wielded on, like the other bits of metal. Seems to be bolted onto the frame of this thing, like some kind of... what was that?”

“That sound. Faint scratching.” Miracle Man tapped at his ear piece. “I think something is moving around, inside the sphere.”

“ Okay,” Michael said. “ Step back and hold out the sensor glove. Let’s crank it up to maximum scan.”

“Somehow I doubt there’s a baby rocketed from a doomed planet in there, waiting to be adopted by a kindly farming couple,” Gabriel added, worriedly.

“Getting life signs,” Michael said, ignoring his partner. “Let’s see if we cam match them to the ET database.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Miracle Man said, taking a step back. “You should have a visual in about two seconds.”

“Push it back!” Michael shouted in his ear. “ We are not set up for this! We need to keep that thing in the sphere!”

“ If it gets past you,” Gabriel said. “ Or is some kind of contaminate..!.”

There was a hiss, of escaping gas, and the metal disk was flung away from the sphere, like a bullet from a starter’s pistol.

It would have shattered the hand of any normal man that attempted to catch it, but Miracle Man was able to easily snatch the disk of scalding hot metal out of the air and casually toss it aside. While a WHO team in haz-mat coveralls and hoods scrambled up to take hold of the disk with special tongs, Miracle Man braced himself for whatever was going to emerge.

“We should be so lucky. We are clearing everyone out. ETA on the containment truck is six minutes.”

Through the escaping steam, Miracle Man saw a pair of hands grip the edge of the opening. The sphere’s occupant pulled itself out.

The creature seemed to be all skin and bones. Roughly, seven feet of skin and bones with razor sharp claws and teeth. Its skin looked like wet, purple leather, pulled tight over the skeleton. It’s head was a diamond shaped wedge of bone which served as housing for a pair of blood red eyes and a mouthful of needle-like teeth. It was a creature that would give Clive Barker nightmares.

Miracle Man took an anxious step back as the alien climbed out of the sphere. It moved with a fluid grace that was both beautiful and frightening to see. There was no doubt in his mind that this creature was a predator, and from the look of it had come to Earth because it had probably managed to kill and eat everything on its own planet.

“Maybe you should try and communicate with it,” Joesph said. “Before we jump to any conclusions...”

“Yes, it has the look of a sensitive, diplomatic soul,” Gabriel added, sarcastically. “Very careful, mate. How invulnerable are you, exactly?”

“Looking at that?“ Miracle Man replied, quietly. “ Not enough. I’m going to try and herd it back into the sphere.”

“We are moving all noncombatants out of the area,” Michael said. “ Security personal are taking positions around the...”

There was more, but Miracle Man tuned it out when the creature turned its head and looked his way. Their eyes met and Miracle Man saw the same expression on the creature’s face that you see on a cat’s when it has just spotted a particularly fat and tasty looking chip monk.

That expression was transmitted over the headset camera he wore to the WHO team.

With a hiss, the creature launched itself out of the sphere, claws extended as it lunged for Miracle Man.

Miracle Man leapt straight up, as the creature went lunging past. It’s tail cracked against his shin.

“Ow,” he muttered, spinning in midair. He grabbed hold of the tail and yanked, flinging the creature back towards the sphere.

Miracle Man landed as the alien climbed to it’s feet, it’s tail whipping back and forth. WHO’s newest trouble shooter stood between the alien and the rest of the team, wondering if things like this were the reason WHO couldn’t hold onto trouble shooters for very long.

“Okay,” Miracle Man said. “ I doubt you can understand me, but you aren’t going any further, so be a good fellow and get back in the sphere...”

“Please tell me you have a plan B in mind for when this one fails.” Gabriel said in his ear.

The creature lunged again, hissing angrily and a set of six inch long, purple claws raked across Miracle man’s chest.

The hero staggered back as blood began to trickle out through the tears in his shirt. He could deal with the pain, but was more stunned by the sight of the wound. Miracle Man was near invulnerable, so his brain was out of practice dealing with this new, shocking bit of information.

The alien’s tail whipped around, snapping across Miracle Man’s temple and sending him down to his knees.
He could hear various WHO personnel shouting in his ear, but felt too dizzy to process their babbling into understandable english. Miracle Man shook his head, wishing everyone would just shut up for a second, so he could focus on the task at hand. Namely, remembering how to stand up.

The creature towered over him, an evil smile on it’s bony features. A long fingered hand grabbed a hold of Miracle Man’s hair, wrenching his head back, exposing his throat to those needle-sharp teeth.

“Uhh...?” was as much articulate speech as his brain seemed able to generate.

A hail of bullets flew over Miracle man’s head, striking the creature full in the face. It staggered back, screeching.

Miracle man felt a pair of hands reached under his arm pits and help him to his feet.

“Come on,” Michael said, steering him away from the sphere. “We are not going to be able to hold that thing off. Joe is running a scanner over the sphere, but you need to wake up and stop that thing. Gabriel's Sigourney Weaver impression will only stop it for so long.”

“Get away from her, you bitch!” Gabriel's voice rang out, followed by more gunfire.

“There has got to be an easier way to make a living,” Miracle Man said, straightening up."

“I’ll get you an application for McDonald’s when this is over,” Michael told him. “Steady?”

Michael let go of Miracle Man and snatched his own guns from the shoulder holsters under his jacket. At the far end of the field, the creature had Gabriel cornered against the fence, and while the WHO agent’s barrage of firepower and movie quotes was getting its attention, it didn’t seem to be causing the alien any damage or even slowing it down much.

Michael placed a couple shots right into the back of one of the creature’s knees. It stumbled and Gabriel dove past it, allowing the WHO troops a clear shot at it with their stun-rifles.

“Repeat,” he said. “ There’s a small amount of background noise here. Try and speak up. You sure? Damnit.”

“We knew we weren’t the only ones that tracked this thing’s landing,” Michael explained. “Seems several European governments are pestering number Ten for access and a squad of Doombots have been tracked crossing into UK airspace.”

“Can you think of anything else worth violating the treaty for? If this is their destination, they’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Just be ready to seal that sphere,” he replied, cracking his knuckles as he flew off.

Fists out, Miracle Man barreled into the creature from behind, driving it into the ground.

Having learned the hard way how quick the alien could be, Miracle man attacked with a series of quick punches to it’s face and chest, hoping to keep it distracted long enough for the WHO team to do their job on the sphere.

“Everybody away from the sphere,” he grunted after several minutes. “ I’m putting this thing back in its can.”

Miracle Man stepped back a few paces and the dizzy alien lunged. He was ready and dodged it’s attack. As the creature leapt past him, Miracle Man reached out and grabbed hold of its tail. He than began to spin the creature by the tail, like a cowboy doing a rope trick. Luckily for most cowboys, their ropes don’t come with claws.

Moving slowly, while still spinning the purple alien, Miracle Man flew over to the sphere. With a final spin, he flung the disoriented creature into the opening. It landed inside with a thud. Miracle Man quickly grabbed the disk shaped hatch and slammed it back into place. He then folded over the lip of the opening, bending metal capable of surviving a space journey like it was tinfoil.

“I’ve got him!” he announced into his throat mike. “You may want to reinforce this hatch though.”

Michael and a WHO tech team came jogging up and quickly attached two peach-sized metal balls to the sides of the purple alien’s craft. With a click the sphere was enveloped in a ball of blue energy.

“Stasis field,” Michael explained. “ It’ll keep that thing quiet till we get to the lab. Truck’s here. Think you could...?”

He nodded toward the sphere. Miracle Man nodded in reply and scooped it up, balancing the whole thing on one shoulder.

“I think the WHO budget will allow that. Looks like we owe you a new shirt as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. Couple hours, it’ll be good as new.” Miracle Man said, as they walked.

“R.A.F. jets are on an intercept course. With that thing in the stasis field it’ll be rough to track. Doom’ll likely back down and bide his time. He’s got a good deal going with this treaty, and despite his faults, he knows how to play the political game.”

Miracle Man was concerned that there wasn’t even a hint of a smile when Michael said that.

Patrick Steed walked out onto the roof of his office and peered out at the city. He squinted in the noontime glare and gave a slight shiver as a breeze tousled his hair. He held up the umbrella and looked at it, resignedly.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, tapping the umbrella against the edge of the roof. “ Mrs. Peel, we’re needed.”

The bright flash startled several pigeons and a gargoyle that had been nesting on the roof.

Nigel , now changed into a pair of jeans, a RastaBilly Skank T-shirt and a much abused looking pair of hi-top sneakers rapped gently on the closed door.

“Oi, Warpsmith,” he said. “ You fancy some dinner? I’m calling in some take out. Get you some of those steamed veggies you like from the tai place...”

He eased the door open as he talked. The Warpsmith still sat, hovering in midair in the middle of his room. He continued to flicker in and out, like a fluorescent light.

Nigel pushed the door open the rest of the way, and stood, looking anxiously at his room mate.

Suddenly, the pale alien gave a shudder and went solid. He raised his arms above his head, and his body rigid, threw back his head, mouth open in a silent scream.

Three spots on the floor began to glow and from them sprouted rods of silver metal. They grew until the tips of all three met and joined above the Warpsmith’s head. Where the three metal poles met, a ball of crackling energy formed, sending tendrils of energy back down the poles.

There was an explosion of blue-white light that sent Nigel flying backwards into the hall.

Next issue: Miracle Man gets to recover from his first day on the new job, as Big Ben leaps into action!
Plus: More on the Warpsmith and Firedrake.

Okay, I’m writing stories that are a sequel to a story that never actually got finished, about a bunch of characters that are only real because a cosmic mad man made his favorite comic heroes come to life.

Thought Barry was nuts to try and fit him into Pendragons. Then was impressed that he made it work.

Thought Tom was brilliant for the way he brought the rest of MM’s cast into the PU.

Expect Miracles Inc. to be a bit different from other hero groups. They are very loose knit and most of them have no interest in actually being super heroes. They will cross each others paths when the need arises, but for the most part they all have their own lives/ agendas and will be concentrating on those.
Plus, I’m going to delve deep into my vast store of Brit Pop trivia in my attempt to create a little corner of the PU for the Miracles to play in.