Issue Number Eight
"Just Another Day in London Town"
Written by Trav Hiltz

In our last exciting episode: Miracle man’s new job as a trouble shooter for the Weird Happenings Organization lead to a brawl with an alien. Meanwhile, Big Ben is back in action, and the Firedrake went to check on his alien roommate just in time to see the Warpsmith blow up...

Patrick Steed stood on the edge of the office building roof and tapped his umbrella against the concrete.

“Mrs. Peel, we’re needed,” he said.

There was a brilliant, golden flash, and the mild-mannered accountant was replaced by his heroic alter ego, Big Ben. The man with no time for crime was of average height, but broad shouldered and barrel-chested. His outfit was a blend of body stocking and business suit, all in navy blue. As was his bowler hat, domino mask and umbrella. He wore a red tie and a carnation was fitted to his lapel.

He let out a deep, satisfied sigh, and adjusted his hat.

“Well, that feels much better,” he said, with a smile. “Thank you, old chap, you won’t regret it.” Flexing his muscular legs, Big Ben leapt from the roof top, bounding from building to building as he made his way around London.

Reality, time and space had been seriously altered by the arrival of the Miracles, and then further mucked about with by the diabolical Jim Jaspers. This had affected the Miracles in different ways. In Big Ben’s case, his ability to fly had faded. Unfortunately, he’d discovered this while trying to cross from the isle of Lyonesse to the coast of England. Being super strong, as well as a good swimmer, this had been no more than a mild annoyance. After all, the man with no time for crime would always find a way to prevail.

Clamping one hand onto his bowler as he leapt, Big Ben smiled as he felt the breeze waft across his masked face.
“Does my heart good to back,” he said. “ Blighty, I’ve missed you. Wot’s this, then?”

Big Ben came to a sudden halt, skidding on the rooftop gravel. Across the street from him, a young lady stood on the edge of the roof, staring out across London. Though, the tear streaks on her face gave Ben the impression she hadn’t gone up there to change into her heroic identity or sight see.

A graceful leap brought the dapper crime fighter across the way, landing besides the young woman. She was a petite blonde, who to Ben’s keen eye appeared to be in her mid-twenties. She wore a light trenchcoat over a green blouse and skirt combination. She held a tear soddened paper towel in one hand.

“Lovely view, isn’t it?” Big Ben inquired. “ Though, I must say, you’d probably enjoy it more from inside. Less windy, I would imagine.”

She turned in surprise at Ben’s arrival ,as well as his casually polite manner.

“What?” She asked. “Who ...?”

“Big Ben,” he replied, tipping his hat to the young lady. “ Proud protector of the realm. And whom do I have the please of conversing with, if I may be so bold?”

“Um... Sandra... Sandy, Sandy Hardcastle. I... um...”

“I’m not generally, the sort of chap to intrude, but I couldn't help but notice, you seem a touch distressed. Can I be of any assistance?”

“It’s just... I didn’t know what else... Ooooh....!” Sandy began to cry.

Ben reached out a hand and gave her shoulder an awkward, but he hoped, reassuring pat. With a sob, she flung herself into his arms, tears dampening the crime fighter's lapels.

“Oh, I say...” Big Ben muttered, then just settled for holding the young woman gently, till she had cried herself out. “It can’t be as bad as that, can it?”

“It’s Alistar,” she explained in a quiet, unsteady voice. “ We had to put off the wedding again, because of money problems, and then he lost his job... he told me, he’d found a way to fix all our problems, but it’s something he cooked up with Harry Barrows...”

“Fell in with a rum crowd, did he?” Big Ben asked.

“Alistar’s a good man,” Sandy explained. “He works hard, but with all the changes after the barrier, jobs haven’t been easy to find... it’s all Harry. He’s nothing but trouble, went to jail for some con job of his, now he’s dragging Alistar along, and I just know it’ll go wrong. I came up here to think, then started to realize that without Alistar, there was no point in...”

“Hold on now,” Ben interrupted, startled. “All this over a chap? I take it, Harry’s scheme is not, strictly, legal? “

“Not only that, it’s dangerous! Alistar could end up in jail! Or worse...”

“Bad as that, hmmm? Well, we’ll just have to see what we can do to get him out of this fix.”

“What? I... but, why would you...?” Sandy said, stepping back from the man with no time for crime.

“It’s what I do, Miss,” Big Ben replied with a smile. “ So, why don’t find Alistar and see if we can’t show him the error of his ways?”

“Um... okay. He’s been meeting with Harry at Turner’s. It’s a pub down on...”

“Think I know it,” Big Ben interrupted, putting an arm around the young woman’s waist. “Hold on and we’ll be on our way.”

“What? I.... yeeeeek....!” Sandy said, as Big Ben scooped her up and leapt.

The two were soon bounding their way across the rooftops, heading for south London.

Meanwhile, in the luxury apartment that serves as headquarters for the Miracles, Nigel Smalls woke up on the sofa.

Leaning over him, looking concerned, were his current roommate, the hero known as Miracleman and a tall, thin man with spiky, brown hair.

“How you feeling, Nigel?” Miracleman asked, helping him sit up.

“Pretty wonky.... wha happened?” Nigel replied, glancing around, than down at his own scorched clothes. “ Man! This was one of my fave t-shirts! I... waitaminute!”

Nigel jumped up and dashed out of the living room.

“Excitable little fellow, isn’t he?” The brown haired man said. He was the government operative known only as Gabriel. He was one of the liaison agents assigned to work with Miracleman on jobs for W.H.O. ( The Weird Happenings Organization), as well as an old acquaintance of Betsy Braddock’s.*

(*In addition to being the current Captain Britain and leader of the Pendragons, it’s Betsy’s apartment the Miracles are living in- trav)

“Something’s up,” Miracleman said, following after Nigel. He and Gabriel found the team’s resident Firedrake outside a closed door, that lead to one of the apartment’s three bedrooms.

“In here,” Nigel said. “ I went to check on the Warpsmith ... there were these ... metal ... things and a bright light knocked me on my arse...”

He flung open the door, and the three men stood in the doorway, peering in intently. The white skinned alien sat, Indian style, in mid-air, in the center of the room. A steaming tea cup was cupped in his hands. He glanced over the rim of his cup at the intruders and nodded in greeting.

The Warpsmith’s room was sparsely furnished. A couple cardboard boxes, an empty bookcase and a bed. There was a heavyset, naked black man sprawled on the bed.

“Um...?” Miracle man said.

“What the smeg...?” Nigel added.

“Do I even want to know what this is all about?” Gabriel added.

“I’m not sure,” Miracle man replied. “Isn’t that Evelyn Creme?”

“The lawyer that went missing, bout the same time you lot all started showing up?” Gabriel said. Then noticed the other two Miracles were looking at him curiously. “Oh, come on. I’m a spy! It’s what we do.“

Nigel strode into the room and glared at the pale alien.

“Alright, what’re you up to and whose gonna buy me a new t-shirt?”

“I apologize about your garment,” The Warpsmith replied, in a light, cultured tone. “The merging has been a great disruption. The various, conflicting energies have been most distressing. I have taken steps to recalibrate my dermi-circutry, as well as attempting to fashion communications with my group mates.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.” Gabriel said.

“You understood that?” Nigel asked, glancing over his shoulder at the snazzily-dressed government operative.

“Not word one.”

“I think he’s telling us that all the mucking about with reality that’s been going on has caused trouble with the implants that give him his powers,” Miracleman said. “ and all that ... flickering he’s been doing, for the past couple days, as well as separating from his ‘host’, Mr. Creme here, have been part of the repair job.”

The Warpsmith nodded in reply.

“So,” Nigel said, sitting on one of the boxes. “ Are we the ‘group mates’ that you need to communicate with?”

“No, Firedrake. With the changes to this world, I must learn if my role here is to change as well. To do that, I must speak with my homeworld. Much, as I have enjoyed my time with you, I feel the need to see what role the Warpsmiths play in this restructered cosmos. It has also been too long since I have seen my Groupmates.”

“What?” Gabriel muttered. “ It sounds like English, but I get more lost every time he explains something. Mates? You mean friends?”

“No,” Miracleman told him. “Warpsmiths live in group marriages of five. You’re going home then, aren’t you?”

“Yes. With my circuitry recalibrated and the anchor holding me removed, “ The Warpsmith said, gesturing towards the unconscious solicator. “ It is my time to leave this sphere. My place in the pattern of existence has changed. I must discover how and what is to be my new role.”

“I understand,” Miracleman told him. “Been going through a bit of that myself. Good luck, and remember, you have friends here on Earth, if things don’t turn out the way you hoped they would.”

“ I honor your friendship,” The Warpsmith replied, with a small smile.

“Don’t be a stranger, mate,” Nigel said, with a wave.

The white skinned alien bowed from the waist and was gone.

“Never dull round here, is it?” Nigel muttered, standing up.

“Too true,” Miracleman replied.

“Now wait a second,” Gabriel exclaimed. “ He just left? The Earth? You had somebody living in your spare bedroom that could get through the barrier and now he’s off on his merry way, traipsing about the universe?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his spiky hair and glanced from one Miracle to the other in frustrated bafflement.

“But, he...? We could have... fine, if Michael asks though, he went to the beach or something. I don’t need the grief.”

“Deal,” Miracleman replied, as the trio headed back to the living room. “ This is a lot to take in, but remember, I’m the only one on the payroll. All the others have their own lives to lead and are going to find out where they fit in to the world in their own way.”

“Yes, of course,” Gabriel nodded. “Old habits die hard.”

“So,” Miracleman said. “ Nigel, that curry offer still stand?”

“Fraid not, Mick. Gotta go meet somebody. Couple of us street minstrels are looking into putting together. Local pub is looking for a house band. I gotta change into something less singed and meet up with them.”

“Well, don’t forget the little people once you’re a rock star,” Miracleman told him. “

“I’ll get you a job, interviewing groupies for me, ” Nigel said, heading to his own room.

“Hanging around with you lot does ruin all those preconceptions I had about super hero groups,” Gabriel muttered.

“Sorry,” Miracleman said. “ So, any interest in some take out?”

“Sounds refreshingly normal. I don’t know if I can handle anymore surprises.”

“Excuse me...?”

Both men turned. Standing in the doorway was a very confused looking Evelyn Creme, wrapped in a sheet.

“I’m not entirely sure where I am and was wondering if either of you gentlemen had seen my pants...?”

Meanwhile, in South London...

Big Ben landed on the sidewalk with a thud, leaving two foot-shaped impact craters.

“Here we are, Miss,” Big Ben said, setting his passenger down. Sandy took several shaky steps then looked around the neighborhood.

“Um... thank you. Are we going to be doing a lot of that?”

“Sorry, I used to be quite the flyer, but seem to have lost the knack. This the place?”

They both looked up at the sign that hung above the pub’s door.

“Yes, this is where Alistar always used to meet Harry.”

“The Dirty Swan,” Big Ben read. “Quaint. Well, let’s have a quiet chin-wag with the patrons, shall we?”

He opened the door, and made an ‘after you’ gesture to Sandy.

The Dirty Swan was your typical, working class pub. Low ceiling’d with a dozen tables jammed close together. There was a cleared space in the far corner, set aside for darts.

Despite it being only 11:30 am, there was a good crowd scattered about the room. Needless to say, Ben and Sandy’s arrival caught the patrons attention.

“Can I help you?” The bar man asked, in a tone that implied he had masked men in leotards stopping by for a pint all the time.

“Bit early in the day for me, actually,” Ben mused, thoughtfully tapping the handle of his umbrella against his chin. “ Ginger beer, if you’d be so kind. For you Sandy...?”

“Um... just a glass of water,” she replied, scanning the room.

The barkeep ‘hmmph’d’ and went to fetch their drinks.

“Any sign?” Big Ben asked, placing his bowler and umbrella on the table as he and Sandy sat down with their drinks.

“I don’t think... oh, wait, over there. That’s ... David, I think his name was. He knows Harry. “

“Right, I’ll have a word. Watch my ‘brella, please.”

Returning his bowler to his head, Big Ben strolled casually over to where David, a large, rough looking fellow with a mustache was sitting with several drinking companions. They all cast a suspicious eyes at the man with no time for crime.

“Pardon me, I wonder if you chaps could help me?” Ben said, tipping his hat. “Shove off,” One of the men muttered.

“I didn’t know the WWF were in town,” another snickered.

“I’m looking for a chap,” Ben continued. “ Harry Barrows. I was lead to believe you might know him.”

“Never heard of him,” David replied.

“Really? I ...?”

“David, I really have to talk to Alistar,” Sandy said, coming over to stand by Big Ben.

“You deaf or somethin?” One of the men asked. “ Your question been answered. Now get, and take him back to whatever ballet you found him. Let us drink in peace.”

“I believe that not only are you being less than truthful with me, “ Ben told them “ but you are being dashed rude to a lady on top of it. Now, it is quite important that we find Alistar, and...”

“Right, I’ve had enough,” A large bald man said, standing up. “ Look, dumplin, you either shove off or I’ll be helpin you to the door.”

David and the other two men, pushed their chairs back and stood up.

“Why can’t you just tell us where he is?” Sandy asked, tearfully.

“Gentlemen,” Big Ben said. “ Is this absolutely necessary?”

“Fraid so,” the bald man said, throwing a punch at Ben’s jaw.

The man with no time for crime brought up his hand and the bald man grimaced as though he’d struck a stone wall.

As Dave edged away from the table, his other drinking companion took a swing at the bowler wearing super hero.

Big Ben dodged, then reached out and grabbed a handful of the ruffian’s shirt.

“I do wish to apologize ahead of time for this,” He said, as he tossed the man over his shoulder. He landed with a crash on the nearby table, which immediately collapsed into kindling.

“Hey! “ the bartender shouted. “ I don’t care iffin they’re acting like a bunch of pratts. That ‘s no reason to be busting up my place!”

“You are correct, sir,” Big Ben said, tipping his hat to the angry bartender. “ I will endeavor to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Ben! Look out!” Sandy shouted.

The bald man brought a chair down on Big Ben’s head. Aside from the slight dent in his hat and the angry scowl on Ben’s face, there seemed to have been no serious damage done.

“Now, that was really uncalled for.” Ben muttered as he planted a fist in the man’s solar plexus. He went flying across the room and left a large, thug shaped imprint in the wall when he hit.

“I mean, after all,” Ben said, inspecting the damage to his hat. “ Some things in life should be sacred. Finding a decent hat is, in my opinion...”

“Ben, he’s running away,” Sandy said, grabbing at his arm.

“Hmmm? Who is?”

“David, the man we came looking for.”

“Oh, that fellow,” Big Ben turned in time to see that David had switched from quietly creeping towards the door to making a mad dash for it.

Ben made a casual gesture with his hand and his umbrella flew off the table, where he’d left it, and pinwheeled across the room. It tripped up David, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Big Ben leapt across the bar and scooped David up by the back of his shirt.

“Now, can we discuss this like gentlemen or...?”

“Anything! What do you want to know? “ David babbled, trying to pull away from the man with no time for crime.

“We are looking for a chap named...?” Big Ben glanced over at Sandy.

“Harry. Harry Barrows.”

“That’s the one. He’s involved in something dodgy and has dragged this young lady’s fiancé along.”

“All I know is Harry had a job lined up, Said it was big. He was real tight lipped bout it. Something to do with that construction site, over on Hartnell.”

“Construction...?” Big Ben muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. “ I wonder...?”

“Hartnell?” Sandy said. “ Isn’t that the street that runs past the...?”

“Bank.” Big Ben finished. “ and there’s a section of the old London subway that was recently unearthed after my lot had that big tussel.”*

(*Ben is referring to the fight that ended the original Miracles mini-Trav)

“Oh my god...!” Sandy whimpered. “ Robbing a bank...? Alistar’ll go to prison! We have to...”

“Of course we do,” Big Ben said, putting a reassuring arm around her shoulder. “ And we will. So, David, when is this ‘job’ to take place?”

“Um... next day ... or so. Soon, real soon. Harry and his boys’ve been laying low.”

“Right,” Big Ben said, letting go of David’s shirt. Thier informant tumbled back to the floor. “ Then we’d best be on our way.”
He steered Sandy towards the door, scooping up his umbrella on the way.

“Where?” She asked.

“ First, we find a cup of tea, fighting crime is thirsty work. Then we go stop your Alistar from making a terrible mistake.”

Night falls on London, and two figures make their way across the construction site on Hartnell Street.

Big Ben and Sandy had stopped by Sandy’s apartment for a cup of tea and to make use of Sandy’s computer. She’d managed to find some information on the rebuilding of the area, as well as some about the old section of tunnel that’d been unearthed.

Sandy had also gotten a flashlight, a warm jacket and some sensible shoes for their mission.

A tarp had been thrown over the opening of the tunnel. Ben knudged it aside with his umbrella and he and Sandy crept inside. The tunnel was dark, even with Sandy’s flashlight on and the floor was litered with rubble. They picked their way past the construction equipment, chunks of concrete and puddles as they followed Sandy’s map.

“If we follow this tunnel,” she said,” it’ll branch towards the west. Then we’ll come to a section of older tunnel, that runs up against the bank wall. That should be where they’re going. Do you think we’ll find them?”

“Only one way to find out,” Big Ben said, offering Sandy his arm as they headed deeper into the tunnel. Newer concrete soon gave way to brick and flag stone, as they walked, marking their progress from the newer section to the older.

“Wait a second,” Sandy said, stopping to peer at the map. “Something’s wrong here. Did we get turned around?”

“Don’t see how,” Ben replied glancing about. “ There’s the west branch, the older tunnel, here’s the main line up ahead and over there is ... um...I say...?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Sandy said. “There shouldn’t be any side tunnel. Maybe it’s just some maintenance station or...?”

“Don’t think so,” Ben muttered, strolling over to the mystery tunnel. “ The brickwork looks quite old. I can feel a faint breeze coming from it. Very odd.”

“Looks even older than the old section,” Sandy added, joining Big Ben at the mouth of the side tunnel. “What’s that?”

She pointed down at the tunnel floor and Ben picked up a canvas bag.

“Looks like a satchel or gym bag,” he said, “ and somebody was using it to carry their tools...”

He returned the bag to the ground and poked at some of the debris on the ground with the tip of his umbrella.

“What?” Sandy asked.

“Ciggeratte butts,” Ben replied thoughtfully. “Fairly fresh ones. A couple are still smoldering. Somebody’s been here quite recently, but why? This tunnel goes away from the bank wall. What would they be after...?”

“Should we try this way?” Sandy asked, shinning her flashlight into the mystery tunnel. There was a faint sound of tiny feet scurrying away from the light. “Or check out the one that leads to the bank?”

“My instincts say, this little side tunnel is more than it appears. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

The brickwork of the tunnel was ancient looking. The stones uneven and dripping with moisture. In the main tunnel, there had been a few scattered maintenance lights, here the only light came from Sandy’s flashlight. Every bit of rubble or pile of dirt was wrapped in ominous shadows.

“Look at that,” Sandy said, in a hushed tone, pointing at the wall. “What are those bits of metal set in the wall?”

“They look like those brackets they used to hold torches,” Ben muttered. “This tunnel may be older then we thought. Interesting. Onward.”

The duo walked until they came to a set of heavy oak, double doors.

“This gets curiouser by the minute,” Big Ben muttered, sounding more intrigued by the situation than anxious. “ Seems Jack Ketch and I stumbled upon something similar when we fought Madam Moltov’s... ah, but that was another lifetime ago. You never really get used to the idea that you’re fictional...”

“Do you smell that?” Sandy interupted. “ I could swear, I can smell Alistar’s aftershave. I think you’re right. They did come this way. Look!”

Holding the flashlight close to the doors revealed that they were open a crack, and on the ground were more cigeratte butts.

Big Ben eased the door open further and he and Sandy poked their heads into the room beyond.

“Fee, fi, foe fum, I can see why the city father’s sealed this area off and halted construction. ” Ben muttered, peering around. “Anyone home...?”

The room was brighter lit than the tunnel, due to all the wall brackets having lit torches in them. It was a huge chamber, carved out of the rock, and it had the cluttered feel of a teenagers room. If that teenager had recently ransacked a bank and a museum. There were piles of jewels and gold coins. Exquisite tapestrys tossed into corners, bejeweled swords stacked lazily next to chests overflowing with gold.

“It’s like something out of a fairy tale,” Sandy breathed. “ If Harry and Alistar knew about this, no wonder they kept it a secret.”

“The part that worries me,” Ben said, stepping into the room and looking around, thoughtfully. “Is in fairy tales, there’s usually something nasty guarding the treasure.”

“ A... dragon... or something?” Sandy whispered.

“Most likely, an ‘or something’,” Ben told her. “ I recently made the acquaintance of a chap that informed me dragons are rarer than modestly dressed female pop stars, these days”*

(*Big Ben is referring to Rathoon, who he met during his temporary membership in the Pendragons - Trav)

“Not terribly reassuring,” Sandy muttered, peering around, nervously.

Ben slung his umbrella over his shoulder and strolled around the piles of treasure. He seemed more amused by the large piles of pretty baubles, than overwhelmed by treasures untold. Never having been the type to worry about money, Big Ben saw this as just one more adventure. An interesting story to tell when he got together with the other superheroes. He poked his head around a golden throne. Then stepped back, scratching at his head thoughtfully.

“Alistar a thin chap with unruly brown hair?” Ben asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes. Why?”

“Think I may have found...” was as far as he got, before Sandy went running past.

“Alistar! Oh, Alistar, are you ... all... right....” She shouted, before skidding to a halt, the words fading away to a frightened gasp.

Alistar and two other men were sitting in a golden birdcage, roughly the size of a Volkswagen. It hung from the cavern’s roof, from a stout iron hook, set into the rock. All four men looked battered, their clothes torn.

What had caused Sandy’s gasp was the troll that lay sprawled on the floor, beneath the cage, snoring away.

It was a massive creature. Ten feet tall and nearly as wide. It had a nose like a prize winning squash, over sized, leathery ears and grey, bristly hair. It’s clothes were shabby and all in various shades of brown. A raggedy, dark robe over tan pants, ripped at the knees and a nicotine colored shirt.

“Sandy!” Alistar exclaimed, then remembering the troll, lowered his voice. “What are you doing here? Get away, now, while you can!”

“No! “ A shorter, bull of a man, interrupted. “ You nuts, Alistar? She’s our way out. Her and ... who the ‘ell is that, wid her?”

“Big Ben,” the dapper hero said proudly. “The man with no time for crime, at your service.”

The troll snorted and rolled over, onto it’s side, so its broad back was to Big Ben and Sandy.

“Alistar, we’’ll get you out of here,” Sandy said. “ If we had a key, or something to pry the cage door open with...?”

With a mighty bound, Big Ben was across the room and hanging onto the over-sized birdcage. He quickly stuck the metal tip of his umbrella into the cage’s lock and began to wiggle it about.

“Bit to the left should ... maybe not, “ he muttered as he fiddled with the lock. “You know this reminds me of the time Mother Grimm...”

“He’s gonna save us?” one of the men muttered, skeptically, as he watched the bowler wearing hero struggle to pick the lock.

“Won’t be a mo,” Ben reassured them. “ Touch to the right ... just wiggle this and... oh, bloody hell.”

Ben pulled out his umbrella, and after tucking it under his arm, reached out and ripped the door off its hinges.

“The simplest plans are usually the best,” He grinned. “ Now, one at a time and I’ll ... ulp....!”

A massive hand grabbed Big Ben by the throat and yanked him off the cage. He was then sent flying, into one of the nearby piles of treasure.

“Another one?!” The Troll roared. “ Wot’s a body got to do ta get a decent nights shut eye!? How many o’ you I got to kill, fore you’ll leave me in peace?!”

“I trust that’s a rhetorical question?” Ben asked, digging his way out from the mound of gold coins. “Now, I think we can settle this whole ... yikes!”

This time the troll grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and holding the hero so his feet didn’t touch the floor began to shake him.

“I’m not a violent fella by nature,” The troll roared. “ but I get’s right baity when my sleep’s disturbed!”

“I can ... uh... see... that...!” Ben replied, while the troll attempted to use him like a baby’s rattle. Shaking vigorously, till he made a noise. “ and... I’d ... be more.. .hnn ... than willing ... to discuss...?”

The shaking stopped.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Ben breathed, reaching up to adjust his hat. “ Now, as I was ... gah!”

The troll swung around, and Big Ben, still held tightly, swung as well. Coming into violent contact with the bottom edge of the now empty cage.

The cage’s ex-occupants, and Sandy, were making a mad dash for the doors. Two of the men were burdened down with armfuls of treasure.

“So, tha’s how it is, eh?” The Troll muttered, tossing Ben aside and stomping after the intruders. “Shoulda known. Humans, nothin but trouble.”

Big Ben collided with a suit of armor and tumbled to the floor.

“Right. Well, I’ve had just about enough of that,” he muttered, standing up and dusting himself off. “ Try and be reasonable... what!? Oh that tears it!”

Picking up his bowler, Ben saw it now had a large dent in the top and the brim was bent. Grinding his teeth in rage, Big Ben clapped it onto his head and dove after the troll. He caught rthe monster in the small of the back and sent the creature stumbling to the floor. Big Ben then grabbed it by the collar and began to slam its oversized head against the rocky floor.

“What is wrong with the world, that people have no respect for proper headgear!” Big Ben grunted, while pummeling the troll. “ Twice now, my bowler has been assaulted and that’s two times too many, in my book!”

After a half dozen blows the troll stopped fighting back and hung limply in Big Ben’s grip.

“Oh.” Ben said, letting the troll down, gently to the floor. “Terribly sorry about that. Shouldn’t lose my temper... not that you can hear me at the moment...”

He glanced over to the fleeing groups of humans. With a frown, he reached out towards his umbrella which was jammed into the cave wall. It yanked itself loose and flew back into its owner’s hand. Ben nodded to himself, then hurled the umbrella, like a javelin, at the others. It flew through the air and embedded itself in one of the heavy doors, pushing it shut.

Sandy and the men came skidding to a halt, but not before the thief in front collided with the door. He dropped his armload of loot and cupped his hands over his now bleeding nose.

“Now, let’s take a moment to sort things out,” Ben said, leaping across the room, to catch up with the others. He pulled his umbrella free from the door and tucked it under his arm. He then took off his bowler and tried to repair the damage to it while he spoke.

“First of all, from what I can gather, this troll has a legitimate grievance against you lot...”

“What!?” The short, stocky man, that Ben assumed was the infamous Harry interrupted. “ He tried to eat us!”

“Before or after you stole from him?” Ben asked.

“Um... “ Harry started.

“After,” Alistar said, earning dirty looks from his fellow thieves.

“Thought as much,” Big Ben muttered, giving up on his battered hat and replacing it on his head. “ So, if you would all be so kind as to empty your pockets, we’ll be on our way.”

“What?!” Harry bellowed.

“Now wait a mo...” the other thief said.

“Unless you wish to discuss it with this establishment's owner...?” Big Ben commented.

A roar from the the other side of the cavern ended the argument. Ben pulled his umbrella out of the the door and eased it open. He made an ‘after you’ gesture as Sandy, Alistar and the other thief ran past. The man with no time for crime grabbed Harry by the collar as he tried to slip past.

“You are an annoying little man, “ Ben commented, as he turned the thief upside down and began to shake him, vigorously.

Harry’s protests turned to panicky squeaks as he saw the troll climb to it’s feet and start lumbering towards them. The troll paused when it saw the coins and jewels coming tumbling out of Harry’s pockets. Big Ben gave one last, ‘just for good measure’, shake, then put Harry back on his feet and steered him out the door.

“Sorry to have been a bother,” he told the troll, tipping his bowler as he he stepped through the door. It shut with an echoing thud.

“Humans,” The troll grumbled, as he pushed several of the heavier chests in front of the doors, then settled back down on a pile of gold coins. “ Nuthin but trouble.”

Back on the street, outside the construction area, Big Ben held the two thieves by the collars, so their feet didn’t touch the ground. Nearby, Sandy and Alistar were having an affectionate reunion.

“Now, you are going to forget all about that cave and go about your felonious little lives,” Ben said, giving them a shake for emphasis. “ Am I understood?”

“What cave?”

“Caves...? I don’t know nothin bout no caves.”

“Good lads. Now, run along.”

Big Ben casually leaned on his umbrella as he watched Harry and his associate flee into the dark streets of London.

“Well, not a bad nights work for my first day back on the job,” He said, turning towards Sandy and her fiancé. “So, either of you fancy a cup of...”

Being a gentleman, he quickly turned his gaze elsewhere, not wanting to intrude on their reunion.

“Right... well, maybe, I’ll just leave you to it ... um... see about getting someone to seal up that tunnel... should probably get my hat fixed. Not that there will be many shops open at this hour... so, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

Meanwhile, in a subway tunnel, in another part of London...

The gentle strains of the guitar faded and Nigel Smalls smiled at the meager applause from the tiny crowd he’d managed to attract.

“Thank you very much. Now, to conclude tonight’s tribute to the late, great Freddy Mercury, I’d like to do my rendition of that tender love ballad ‘Fat bottomed girls... “

He hadn’t gotten farther than the first couple of notes when a scream echoed through the subway station.

“They usually wait till I start singing...,” Nigel muttered, joining the crowd that had gathered to see who or what was making the noise. He stood at the back, trying to see past the other people, and find out what the commotion was.

There was another shout and the crowd parted, like the red sea, to let a man come running through.

He was in his mid-forties and from the way he was breathing, Nigel guessed this was the most running he’d done in quite awhile. The man’s eyes were wide as hubcaps. He clutched one hand to his chest, as though it was injured. His suit had at one time been quite neat and fashionable. At the moment it was torn and smudged with dirt.

“Gettouttamyway!” The man man gasped as he shoved past. “ITSgonnakillme.... uh... ohgod....!”

“What the hell...?” Nigel muttered. “ Anybody know what his...?”

Nigel was interrupted as the rest of the crowd turned and ran after the first man. Nigel was jostled about and fell to one knee, before regaining his balance.

“Why’s everybody chasing him...?” Nigel stood up and felt breath on the back of his head. “ Oh shitte...!”

Against his better judgment, Nigel turned around.

The creature stood about eight feet tall and appeared to be either covered in, or made of, a light blue slimy substance. A pair of narrow, red rimmed eyes peered down at him . Its nose was merely two slits and if the thing had a mouth, it was covered by the slime.

“Hey, buddy,” The monster said, in a gurggling voice, like it was speaking underwater. “ You see a guy with a torn suit go running by?”

Next issue: Yep, it’s yet another hero from the Ultraverse showing up in a Pendragon title. Join us, as Firedrake and Sludge get involved in Tthe Nosferatu Sanction!’