Pendragon Comics - The Pendragons 25

The Pendragons

Issue # 25

Brought together in defense of Avalon and the British Isles, the Pendragons are the officially-sanctioned heroes of Great Britain. Originally led by the Black Knight, the group is composed of the remnants of the old Knights of Pendragon group, as well as several other heroes. Willing to die for their beliefs, the Pendragons stand united as England's best defense against threats of a superhuman nature.

Special "Silver Anniversary" Pendragons logo created by Kell Carpenter, inspired by the logo created by Des Davies!

(click to enlarge!)

Written by Barry Reese &
Gary Dreslinski

This story continues from Captain Britain: House Braddock # 5 and Black Knight: Destiny Walk # 18!

Adam Crown stood in the darkness, staring out through the open window. A group of druids were dancing about a fire not more a hundred feet away, their chanting voices sounding eerie and ancient. The entire scene was somewhat surreal, but it -- along with many other elements of England's past -- was becoming far more common. The old ways, the old religions, were coming back in full force.

He felt Ginny's warm flesh press against his own as her hands locked around his waist. They were both nude, their lovemaking having ended only a few short minutes before. When Ginny had excused herself momentarily, Adam had taken the opportunity to watch his new friends in their ceremony. Ginny kissed his shoulder, whispering "Aren't you coming back to bed?"

"So I've noticed." Ginny applied a bit of pressure to Adam's arm, turning him round to face her. She stared up into his eyes, finding calm in them. Since the incident in which Adam had made peace with his past -- which included being the reincarnation of the legendary King Arthur -- he had been a different man. More confident, less prone to posturing. But he had also fallen into lapses of prolonged silence... "What's bothering you? You know you can talk to me."

Adam brushed her long brown hair back behind an ear. She was beautiful to him, having won his heart with her very first smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't keep it all to myself, should I? I've been giving a lot of thought lately to the things Brent's been telling me. About all the dreams that people have been having -- the ones that brought you and the rest of the Cult of Albion here to Glastonbury. Some of them deal with things that haven't occurred yet -- things that are almost prophetic in nature."

Ginny shrugged, not really comprehending where her lover was going with this. She liked hearing him talk, though -- his voice was enchanting. "So you're trying to guess when these prophesized events are going to occur?"

Adam shook his head, looking slightly disturbed. "To a degree. Two different members of the Cult mentioned seeing a 'warrior of green' struck down by someone 'filled with dark intent.' Elias says that in his version of the dream, the 'warrior of green' dies when the Heart of Darkness is placed in Marduk's grasp."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked. "Who's Marduk? And what's the Heart of Darkness?"

"Good questions," Adam murmured, pulling away from her. He stepped over to the bedside table and lifted up newspaper that lay there. He offered it to Ginny, who stared at the article on the page before her. The headline read Demon's Heart To Rest in Antiquities Museum. "Apparently, they're still finding debris from our battle with Blackheart* -- three days ago, a lorry driver saw something lying in the road before him. Turned out to be a man's heart, crusted and black. Nobody from the Pendragons -- including Wynter, whose the only one of us who could possibly identify the thing -- has seen it yet. But the lorry driver says it scared him to death and everyone who's looked at it feels a chill in their bones. There are plans to put it in the Museum of Pagan Antiquities as part of their Black Mass Exhibit."

"Is an ancient Babylonian god. He's had some dealings with humanity over the years, but for the most part, he's considered a part of the ancient past. And the Antiquities Museum happens to have a display on ancient religious rites dedicated to him -- located just down the hall from the new Black Mass Exhibit."

"Putting the 'Heart of Darkness' within reach of Marduk, assuming he's crashing in the Antiquities Museum these days. Sounds a bit far-fetched, Adam."

"I know," he laughed. "It just struck a chord with me when I read the news. Reminded me of those dreams I'd been hearing about. And...." his voice drifted off, as if he were uncertain whether or not to continue.

"Well, a 'warrior of green' could refer to a defender of the Green Knight. A Pendragon. And if the rest of the prophecy is coming true, that means that one of us is carrying around a death's-head marker on us... and we don't even know it."

Gulliver Jones stood in the castle's meeting room, a cup of warm tea clutched in his fingers. He'd picked up a small tremor in his limbs a few months back, another sign that old age was beginning to win its war with him. His powers had kept him remarkably trim and fit for a man of his years, but it seemed that nothing could stave off death completely. He took a sip of the tea and smiled softly. "You still make damn good tea, Jackie."

Jacqueline Falsworth Crichton grinned in return, though she felt increasingly on edge. They were the first two Pendragons to arrive for the scheduled meeting, which Gulliver seemed very pleased with. In the two days since Gulliver had arrived in a blaze of glory to save Union Jack from the clutches of Venom, he'd been given the full indoctrination into the team -- despite the fact that most of the group were unfamiliar with his career, the fact that the forces of Avalon had chosen him as a champion gave him automatic credibility with them. "I'm surprised you remember. It's been a long while."

"Too long," Gulliver agreed. He put out a hand, resting it lightly atop hers. "You look fantastic."

"Thank you, Gully," she said, pulling her hand away. She used her old nickname for him, hoping it would soften the blow of her next words. "Getting my youth back has been a godsend in so many ways. It's given me a new chance at life -- and love. Joey and I are very happy."

Captain Kerosene nodded slightly, his eyes falling away. "Ah. This is the part where I wish you the best with your new chap, is it?" He sighed. "I'm afraid I can't do that. This new Union Jack is a far cry from your father -- or your brother. Now they were heroes."

Heedless of her rising anger, he pressed on. "The Lady of the Lake has given me a new purpose, Jackie. I see it as my own rebirth, just like yours. And I plan to make up for the stupid, bullheaded mistakes of my past. I never should have lost you to Crichton. I was a damned fool."

The sounds of voices in the hall rescued Jackie from an uncomfortable situation. She looked up with a bright smile on her face as the rest of the group entered. They were the greatest heroes in all of England, having saved the realm time and again -- Captain Britain, Adam Crown, Miracleman, Dark Angel and dear, sweet Union Jack. They were Jackie's friends and family.

Betsy Braddock's words brought Jackie's good mood into a sudden plummet. "Okay, mates, we've got quite an agenda ahead of us." The team's leader, Betsy was blessed with the ability to read the emotions of her teammates like an open book. She cast a quick glance over at Jackie, but said nothing. She knew a bit about Spitfire's past with Kerosene and worried about how it was going to affect the group. Truth be told, she was a bit annoyed that the Lady of the Lake had chosen someone without even consulting the Pendragons -- it was her right, of course, but it smacked of insensitivity. "First off, you'll all take notice of the fact that Albion isn't among us. He and his mother were attacked last evening at their flat -- the assailant was identified as Death's Head II."

"You must be joking," Dark Angel whispered. "I worked with him in the original Dark Guard...."

Captain Britain held up a hand to silence them. "That's beside the point. Kate's in the hospital now and should be fine, but Cam's gone missing. I've tried to reach him telepathically, but no luck."

Miracleman shifted. His handsome features were set in concern, which reflected how much he liked the youngest member of the group. In many ways, young Cam reminded him of his old partner, Kid Miracleman. "Perhaps we could go to Avalon... Ask the Lady for assistance. Cam's a Pendragon, so she should be able to locate him."

"Good idea," Betsy said. "Our other alternative is to question Death's Head about who hired him. He's been sighted in East Sussex, making a mess of the local pubs."

"That sounds like a plan," Gulliver muttered. "Let's go smoke the bastard and make him tell us what he's done with the boy. Attacking a child... Makes my stomach turn."

The coldness of Shevaun Haldane's voice made everyone turn at once. Dark Angel was leaning over the table, looking pale and cold. Miracleman reached out to touch her back, his blue eyes narrowed with worry. "Shevaun....?"

"Someone's here. On the island." Shevaun's voice sounded distant, which worried Miracleman even more.

Betsy cursed under her breath. "She's right. I sense their minds. They're in the castle's foyer!"

"I'm on it," Spitfire hissed. She was off in a yellow streak before anyone else could even react, leaving Union Jack to wonder -- not for the first time -- why everyone thought of him as the team's impulsive member.

Her lover's reaction would have been a source of amusement for the speedster, but her mind was far too preoccupied with the possibility of intruders. Lyonesse was a magical construct, home to mysteries and creatures far beyond human imagining. Its borders had only been pierced on a few occasions and always by personages of great power. I wonder if this is related to the attack on Kate, she mused.

Through the corridors, she raced, coming to a halt in the foyer. Standing there before her was a group of colorful figures, two of whom she recognized immediately. "Dane? Sersi?!"

Dane Whitman, the Black Knight, stood alongside his lady love. One gloved hand rested on his sheathed sword, while the other stroked the small of Sersi's back. To his left, a serpentine woman who looked somewhat familiar to Jackie, stood beside a handsome man of almost godly handsomeness. "Spitfire... I hope it's okay that I let myself in."

Blinking in confusion, Jackie nodded quickly. "Of course it is! This is as much your home as ours. Where have you been? We haven't seen you since Brian dispatched you on that mission of his*."

Something in her voice brought Jackie's attention to bear and she recognized where and when she'd seen the woman. "Asp. I've seen her in the files Interpol sent us... What is she doing with you, Dane?"

Sersi raised a hand, firing a burst of elemental energy that sent Jackie flying backwards. The heroine slammed into the wall and fell to her knees with a groan.

"Ah. I see that our diplomatic mission is off to a wonderful start," a bearded man whispered. "Tell me -- What exactly prompted you to do that?"

Sersi, eyes blazing, smiled coldly. "She wasn't going to listen to us. She's one of Brian's little flunkies. The second she recognized Asp, we lost all chance of doing this peacefully."

"If you hadn't lost it before, you've sure as hell lost it now," Union Jack said. He and the rest of the Pendragons stepped into view, having just caught the end of the previous exchange. Joey looked over at Dane and shook his head. "You've gone and lost it this time, haven't you?"

The Black Knight reached up to scratch the stubble that lined his chin. "There have been doubts about my sanity from time to time, I admit..." His hand darted down to draw forth the great sword that hung at his side. "But this time I'm in the right -- as you'll soon see."

"Faith and God," Adam Crown whispered, drawing forth Excalibur. "That's not the Sword of Light...."

Dark Angel finished for him, the moment overwhelming her. "That's the Ebony Blade."

“I wonder how Proctor is doing,” Dane Whitman muttered to himself, as he rounded another corner. The castle of King Brian seemed to be just one long corridor, broken up into parts just to keep it interesting. But he knew from reputation, and experience, that one wrong turn could take you places you really didn’t want to go. Otherworld was like that. Beautiful on the surface, and dangerous the deeper you plunged. He noticed that the corridor he was in was gently sloping downward. “Into the heart of the beast”.

Proctor’s instructions were to meet with the Pendragons, and convince them of the danger at hand. If, and only if, they were unable to convince, the mission was changed to keeping the ‘Dragons out of the picture. Roma had promised to distract the Captain Britain Corp, and the Dark Guard. If that was done, then there should be no one between himself and Brian Braddock himself. If it were done, there were as many “ifs” on his own end of the operation as there were Brian’s motivations.

Was the King of Otherworld really going to attempt to restore his brother, the mad Infinitius? Was he really gathering together an army in the form of his super-powered allies? From what Roma had said, he had manipulated them across the reaches of time and space. Sending his own sister to die at Battleworld, in hopes of tempering the team into a fine edge, that wasn’t the act of a benevolent leader. That was the act of a madman.

He walked for what seemed to be forever, wondering if Brian wasn’t playing some sort of game with him, changing the landscape of the castle to suit his own twisted ends. It would be just like him to…

He looked to his right. One of the large wooden doors had been pushed open, while he was wool-gathering, and a stunning blonde woman in a full-length green dress stood there, her entire face beaming.

She ran up to him, throwing her arms around him, pulling him in tight. The joy that radiated off of her was intoxicating. He hugged her back, feeling the way her body moved against his until she broke off, holding his hands tenderly at arm’s length, “Brian will be so glad to see you!”

Dane managed to stifle the impulse to correct her. As far as she was concerned, he probably would be. No doubt Brian would be happy to see his hapless lackey, carrying the key to power back to his master.

He looked into Meggan’s beautiful eyes as they continued to shift colors. Did she know what Brian was up to? Or had he kept his wife as much in the dark as everyone else? Had Brian sent her out to greet him, knowing that it would raise the question in his mind? Had Brian gone so far as to send a complete innocent, one that he purported to love, into the jaws of the enem…no, Dane couldn’t use that word. Brian was not the enemy. No matter what he had done. He was a friend. One who was on the wrong path. A dangerous path that required a true act of a friend to remove him from, physically if need be.

With the Ebony Blade in his hand, Proctor took a bold step forward. Adam Crown, a firm grip on the legendary Excalibur matched that step, meeting him nose to nose. “We are not here to fight. We’re here to talk.”

“Could have fooled us,” Union Jack retorted, his pistol in hand. Looking at the band of colorful figures before him, he suddenly yearned for the alien costume that he'd called his own until recently -- the suit's symbiotic tendencies were horrible, but the power boost could be useful now....

The large handsome man deliberately folded his arms, staring matter-of-factly across the room at Joey, “I would suggest that you take the time to listen to what we have to say before someone ends up getting hurt needlessly.”

Union Jack started to respond, but Miracleman placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Do you know who that is?” Joey shook his head, “That’s Hugo Danner.” Joey started to respond, before realizing what had just been said. Danner was an urban legend among superheroes, the first, the best. Apparently some comic book company had based one of their most powerful characters after him. Even that didn’t come close to being in the presence of the one they called “Man-God”. If he was on the other side, perhaps there was something this group had to say that was worth listening to.

“Alright then,” Spitfire said, through gritted teeth, “What is this about?”

Sersi stared back her, her eyes cold, “It’s about Brian. He’s out of control. We need to stop him.”

“Right then,” Betsy Braddock replied, “That again. It’s been dealt with. You have been given misinformation.”

Proctor stared into the eyes of Adam Crown, both breathing shallowly, willing the other to make the first move.

Anthony Ludgate, the former Avenger known as Druid, watched the reactions of the Pendragons carefully, a spell on his lips just in case it was needed. If they weren’t going to join forces against Brian Braddock, then clearly they meant to stop them from saving the universe from his tyranny. That, Druid vowed, would not be tolerated.

Dark Angel gave a side-long look to Captain Kerosene, who nodded. That was enough. They were going to attack. Druid launched the spell, weaving the power of the Black Mass into an incantation directed at Shevaun. She screamed as she fell under the sudden onslaught, and it just got worse from there.

Dane followed as Meggan led him down a series of stairs, that led to another corridor, and another spiraling path deeper and deeper into what she referred to as the Braddock Palace. If he had tried to find his way on his own, he knew, he would never have left the original corridor, let alone come down so far into the palace.

“The throne room is this far down?” he asked, trying hard not too stare at Meggan’s shapely posterior in the process.

Her long blonde hair shook, as she continued downward the slope, “Brian doesn’t spend much time there these days, unless he has to. Most of the time, he’s down here in the dungeons?”

“I guess so.” Dane answered, knowing that he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he sounded. His own Garrett Castle had dungeons of its own. “What is he doing down here?”

“He’s keeping his brother alive down here?” Dane tried to hold his voice steady.

Meggan stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor, knocked once, and then allowed it to swing freely open.

“Of course I am.” Brian Braddock said, with a wide smile. He walked toward Dane with his arms wide open, to embrace him as a friend. “I’m going to cure him.”

“As I said, I’m going to cure him. With that piece of the Yggdrasil that you collected. Did you bring it?”

Brian’s smile got bigger, as he crossed the room in a couple of steps, moving much faster than Dane recalled him ever moving. “Things are going to be alright now Dane, “ he said, enveloping the smaller man in a massive hug, “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Dane pulled the piece of the World Tree free from it’s wrapping, grateful for once that the piece had not come off smoothly. Brian was still hugging him as Dane lashed out with the jagged edge of the wood, It slipped easily into Brian’s midsection, slicing through the robes and armor like they were paper, and embedding itself just below his heart.

Brian stumbled backward, his cure turned weapon sticking out from his chest. Meggan screamed, but Brian just kept looking at the blood that was flowing out of his wound, and then back to Dane in dismay.

“I can’t let you do this Brian. You can’t cure your brother. You can’t cure Merlyn. No more massing of your private armies. No more oppression of citizen’s concerns here on Otherworld with your Getaspo Dark Guard. No more unleashing of those unfortunates from the Chamber of Failures on the unexpecting universe. I refuse to stand by and watch you destroy everything we’ve worked for. You’ve betrayed us all ‘King Brian’, and as your friend, I think it’s time you paid a price for it.”

Dane Whitman drew the Sword of Light, and summoned the Shield of Darkness. It was time to finish things, once and for all.

The Pendragon known as Wynter sat in the castle's sun room, his gaze resting lightly on the form of his father, who lay sleeping nearby. The scene was a strange one, for the two men had never been close before... and yet now Wynter watched over him protectively, making sure that nothing untoward happened to the man who had raised him.

And there was definitely a feeling of danger in the air. Wynter's senses were on edge, dancing with the clear knowledge that a familiar face was even now approaching from behind. He stood without speaking, readying several spells in his mind, ready for anything. He hoped it would not come to blows -- not after how long they had been apart -- but he also knew the unpredictability of his sister. "Roma," he said, flatly.

"My brother," she replied, walking gracefully around and in front of him. Her face reflected a myriad of emotions, but the most dominant one was of sadness. She stopped just shy of the small cot on which Merlyn lay resting, his eyes closed tightly and a wistful smile on his lips. "He looks so peaceful."

Wynter moved up next to her, close enough his shoulder rubbed against hers. "He has none of the madness that haunted him in the past."

"It wasn't madness," she countered. "He was never without full sanity... He was just distant, calculating. To him, charting the course of the multiverse was an intellectual exercise."

Roma turned to him, her beautiful face wet with tears. "That wasn't his way. You know that."

"All too well," Wynter agreed. "His lack of understanding towards me drove me away from Otherworld. His scorn haunted me for far too long... but you didn't come here to talk about the past."

"No. I didn't." Roma placed her hands behind her back, drawing herself up to her full height. She was an imposing woman when she wished to be, and she drew on her full regal bearing now. "Brian Braddock has failed. Our father's grand design has failed. We all teeter on the brink on destruction."

"And you plan to save us all? How noble." Wynter bent down and shook his father's shoulder. The elder mage opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at them. "Father. We must get you away from here."

Merlyn sat up, surprise lighting up his face. "You're very pretty," he said, smiling up at his daughter. If there was any recognition that this woman had been raised by him, it was not apparent. "Are we going to play?"

Roma stared at him, speechless. It was only when Wynter raised their father to his feet and began to leave the room that she found her voice once more. "Where are you going?"

"Away. And I'm taking father with me. He has no place here -- not with the Failures, not with Brian and not with you."

"How dare you," Roma whispered. "Taking that sort of holier-than-thou attitude with me. I stayed with him through everything, all the best times and the worst. I was there when he died. I stood over his casket and cried. Not you."

"You've also turned against my friends." Wynter's eyes flashed with tiny bursts of electricity. His voice deepened, sounding like the rolling of thunder. "Mark my words, sister -- If you truly want to know who is teetering on the brink of destruction, you only have to look into the mirror."

Roma said nothing as they strode away, vanishing into a mist. She thought she saw Merlyn wave at her as they left, but she couldn't be sure. In the end, Wynter's attitude was the same as it was years before -- he was always the one with the moral high ground, or so he thought. In this case, however, Roma knew that she was right and he was wrong. Brian, though she loved him dearly, had to be stopped.

Cam McClellan opened his eyes slowly, experiencing a world of terrible pain. His entire body ached and he wondered how badly he'd been hurt -- for his natural recuperative abilities were astounding. If he hurt this badly now, how much worse would it have been earlier?

The sounds of computerized equipment and whispered voices made him raise his head. He was sitting in a chair, restrained by some kind of mechanized bar that fit around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. His Albion armor was in place, gleaming in the lights given off by the many computer monitors that surrounded him. He worried about his mother, who had been struck down before the arrival of Death's Head II*, but he knew she would want him to focus on escape for now.

Cam craned his head around to see an older man stepping towards him. He wore a blue bodysuit with a cape attached, which looked a bit odd on a man his age. But there was a vitality to him that surprised Cam and made him wonder if the man before him was a metahuman of some kind. "Where am I?"

The man smiled, but there was a coldness to it. "You're in Symkaria. A bit far from home, I'm afraid. And I do apologize for how we had to bring you here -- but the Barrier has wreaked havoc on our organization. Many of our top agents were outside when the Barrier went up. Our numbers are down, especially amongst our superhuman agents. So we've been forced to hire out with independent operators -- like Death's Head." He made a face that implied what he thought of the robotic mercenary. "God save us all that we've been reduced to dealing with the likes of him."

"Let me go." Cam tried to summon some of his innate powers, but the energy merely crackled and faded.

"You'll find that the inhibitor band completely blocks your access to the extra dimensional energy you wield. A precaution only." The man crossed his arms and stared down at Cam, somehow managing to seem both grandfatherly and dangerous at the same time. "My name is Roger Aubrey, though my enemies know me as the Destroyer. This room is the current hub of activity for the Penance Council, the ruling body of the V-Battalion. Have you heard of us?"

"Good. It's nice to know that we can manage to maintain some secrecy in this day and age." Roger looked up as a woman near his own age stepped in. She was dressed similiar to him and she looked somewhat distressed to see Cam restrained in his chair. Roger nodded to her once, making it clear that he did not want her interrupting. Turning back to Cam, Roger continued. "I formed the V-Battalion in 1951. Your teammate Spitfire was an early member of the group, in fact. We fought to make sure that the true horrors of the war were never forgotten -- and would never be repeated. I'm proud to say that we foiled many a dictator's scheme over the years. We did a lot of good. We built an organization that was the envy of many in the intelligence community, with a superpowered strike force composed of surviving heroes from World War II -- and their heirs."

"But now you're attacking innocent people in their homes and kidnapping their children? You've fallen far, you daft old man."

"Touché." Roger pulled up a chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "About a year ago, my lad, I was resurrected from the dead. Difficult to believe perhaps, but true."

"I'm sure." Roger looked away from him for a moment, staring into the past. "I turned over leadership of this organization to an old... friend. Jim Hammond. The original Human Torch. I had lost my way over the years, becoming more like the monsters that I fought than the man who once protected England." He shifted, looking back at Cam now, his eyes full of pain and regret. "Our highly sophisticated aircraft, the Vanguard, was returning to Europe from a mission in the States when the Barrier went up -- the Vanguard crashed right into it, killing everyone on board. Jim... Nuklo... so many others. Thankfully, Elisabeth Bairstow managed to find me in Paris. She convinced me to come back and salvage what I could. How could I refuse?"

Cam looked over at the old woman, still attractive despite her years. He had no doubt that this woman was the Elisabeth that Roger spoke of and he could sense that she was anything but a villain. That knowledge made him relax a bit. "Why am I here?"

"Two reasons," Roger answered. "The first is that our ranks are incredibly depleted and you fit the requirements for recruitment. You're the spiritual heir to a hero who fought in both World Wars and is very much respected. We could use your services and you wouldn't even need to join us full-time. You could answer our calls from time-to-time and report in with vital information that you gain from your government contacts."

"You want me to spy for you. Use my Pendragons rank to get you information? You beat up my mum and then try to get me to sign on? You're insane."

"There are plenty of people who would agree with you," Elisabeth said. She stepped forward and, with a wave of her hand, deactivated the inhibitor that bound Albion to his seat. The youth stood up in surprise, even as Elisabeth glared at Roger. "Tell him, Roger. He needs to know."

"Yes. And it read 'From the Nether-Realms a dark lord returns, sealing away all glory and light. The blackest of hearts shall rule the land of Olde Kings and the most powerful of mages shall be struck down, his blood staining the floor of his Olde home. What shall come is most terrible and bleak, a world where the mystic arts flourish and mankind is assaulted by enemies of all types.' You know of this?"

Albion nodded, feeling a shadow pass over his very soul. Something here and now was beginning to unsettle him. Was it the old words, written by some foul figure centuries ago? Or was it the memory of Blackheart and how close he had come to ultimate power, raising himself to godhood over the dead bodies of Cam's friends Gawain and Peter? "Yes. I've heard it before."

Roger turned, reaching for a black tome that rested nearby. It was covered in leather, which Albion recognized in the depths of his heart -- it was human skin. "This is a copy of that book. Not the original, mind you, but one that dates back nearly as far. A group known as the Scrier Cult was in possession of it until very recently -- and they've been anxious to get it back, let me tell you." He held out the book to Albion. "Turn to the marked page. And read."

Albion did as Aubrey asked, though he loathed to touch the book. It felt warm and heavy in his hands. There was a feathered bookmark near the center of the tome and Albion was not surprised to see that it marked the familiar passages of the Black Mass Prophecy. But as his eyes scanned the words, he felt his heart begin to hammer harder in his chest. For there were words written below the Prophecy, ones that he had never before seen. In the midst of the darkness shall come sorrow and woe. A warrior of green shall die most horrible and the ancient evil shall ascend once more. The child cloaked in the raiment of his teacher will wither and change, his heart becoming one of ice and stone. The Black Mass will rise in pitch until the coming of the Red Lord and all life shall meet its Bane.

"I think it is. But, if you let us, we can try and prevent this." Roger took the book back from Cam, who let it slip away without a fight. "We need one another, Cam. You don't want the others in your team to know that you might turn against them -- do you?" Seeing Cam slowly shake his head, Roger smiled gently. "And we need the information you can provide us in return. So it all works out in the end... We put our best minds to work trying to decipher the rest of this book, so that we can stop this horrible thing from coming to pass. And you...."

"I prefer to think of it as... working with the Battalion." Roger put a hand on Cam's shoulder and squeezed. "Is this a yes?"

Cam thought about his mum, who had doubted that he could ever be a hero. And he thought of the other Pendragons and wondered what they -- especially sweet Molly, off with the Dark Guard now -- would ever think of him if they read this text... "Yes. I'll do it," he whispered. And may the Lady forgive me.

Lyonesse -- Pendragons Castle

The Ebony Blade sang as it clashed against Excalibur, again and again.

Union Jack received the warning of “Be careful” a moment before the massive, and seemingly mindless, beast called Mastodon’s fist connected with his face. The battle armor absorbed the impact of the blow, but the momentum still carried him into the wall, smashing a cabinet in the process. What had once been a warm welcoming hall was quickly becoming a place of rubble and blood.

Druid was on his knees, holding his nose after Dark Angel recovered from his attack, and launched one of her own. He was muttering something that served to keep her at bay, but the way she kept attacking the barrier, it was clear that sooner or later she was going to find a way in.

Miracleman was about to lend her a hand when his path was blocked by Hugo Danner. Danner stared at him for a moment, “It really doesn’t have to be like this. You’ve been deceived. Braddock needs to be stopped. Don’t throw away all the good that you’ve done for a lost cause.”

Micky stared at him for a moment, “I am not the one who is mistaken. The cause is far from lost.”

Hugo shrugged his shoulders, “Trust me, you’re going to lose. But if you insist…” And with that two mortal gods threw themselves at each other, fist against fist, for the fate of the universe.

“Kerosene!” The American Marvel called out, the bitterness in his voice clear to any within ear shot.

Gulliver stared at his opponent for a moment, finally shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m afraid that doesn’t ring a bell.” The flames shot out from him, encompassing the fuming Marvel. There was a scream, and then his opponent dropped to the floor, trying to put out the fire. It only spread it.

Betsy Braddock swore to herself, as she tried to direct teammates toward where they make a difference. Now she also had to worry about Captain Kerosene burning the castle down around them. They needed to take the fight outside, but the one person capable of doing that, Micky, was too busy at the moment to do anything more than smash through walls. The so-called Man-God just kept coming at him, but Mickey wasn’t giving up, matching him blow for blow. But she could tell that Mickey was getting the worse of the exchange. More importantly, she could read it in the body language, Danner was holding back.

If there was going to be a shift in the location, it had to come from her. “All right, we need to…”

Betsy stared for a moment, not sure she was seeing what she was actually seeing. The decapitated head of Dane Whitman’s former protégé, Sean Dolan was atop a spirit form. Even more oddly, he was talking to her. “Whatta we gonna do next? Come on Betts. You gotta have a plan!”

“Right in one!” he proclaimed, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up. “But you can call me Oracle these days… or maybe, I don’t know, maybe Ghoul… or something. It’s really a work in progress… I guess you can call me Sean or…”

She let out a telepathic blast, enough to take out an unprotected Juggernaut. He simply stared at her, looking perturbed, “Now that wasn’t a very nice way to greet an old friend… geez, some people!” , he proclaimed, rolling his eyes as he let loose with a blast of his own.

Her armor absorbed it. She tried to hit him, her fist passed harmlessly through him. She stared at him for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other can we?”

He smiled back at her. Sean had once had such a sweet smile. But as a corpse, that smile had more than slightly turned, “Of course not. I can however keep you from rallying the troops to you. You know what they say, cut off the head…” His smile grew, “so to speak”.

Spitfire had stayed one step ahead of Asp’s deadly blasts of venom, counting them. If Interpol was correct, she had a limit. Once she reached that, she had to rest. Sure enough, the blasts started falling short. Jackie waited a barely detectable second before launching her own attack. The gloves would serve to protect her hands from the effects of the serpent woman’s corrosive skin. Or so she hoped. Jackie knocked her flat in with a single high speed punch. If they were all going down that easily, perhaps there would still be time to finish the tea. Of course she knew things rarely worked out that way.

She looked around for her next opponent only to have Sersi transform the air around her into a wall. Jackie slammed right into it, face first.

Miracleman saw Danner's body begin to drift in and out of phase, becoming hazy and indistinct. He heard himself gasp out loud, but the sound was elongated and distant. It felt like his mind was becoming enmeshed in molasses, growing heavier by the second. He wondered if this were some new power of Hugo's but he knew in his heart that it wasn't -- for he had felt this peculiar disconnection from reality before, though never in his waking hours.

Micky Moran felt the world around him solidify once more, but he was far from Lyonesse -- far from the battle in which he and his friends had found themselves. Instead, he was standing in the midst of glorious champions, colorful beings like himself -- but men and women who, by all rights, should not exist. But I shouldn't exist either, so who am I to judge? he asked himself.

The blonde woman nearest him, dressed in a variant of his own costume, smiled at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth, encased in a large balloon. The notion of real men and women speaking in word balloons was a humorous one, but Micky found nothing to laugh about here. Here it was strange and frightening.

He read the words, which slowly began to disappear into nothingness: "Why haven't you found us yet? You promised me you would look...." "She's got a point, mate." A man in a black suit and tie moved forward, his words similarly appearing beside his mouth. He was Big Ben, the Man With No Time for Crime. Micky found his presence here oddly comforting. These people -- these men and women -- were his kindred spirits. He knew this, in the pit of his stomach. "I know you're feeling a bit muddy over all this, but we're needed out there. I..." Ben's words changed shape slightly, emphasizing his discomfort. "I don't know exactly where I am. You have to free us."

Miracleman looked at this man, marveling over how familiar he seemed. "But I'm a Pendragon... they need me."

"We need you, too." Miraclewoman pointed out. She reached for his hand and took it in his own. "Will you look for me?"

Miracleman stared into those blue eyes, so like his own, and he knew there was only one answer that could be given. He just prayed that the Lady of the Lake -- and Shevaun -- would understand. "I'll find you. I swear it."

And then Hugo Danner delivered a powerful blow that sent Miracleman spiraling right out of his waking dream -- and into unconsciousness.

Things were not going well, for anyone. Betsy Braddock continued to keep tabs on what was going on, but the picture did not seem to be getting any better.

Union Jack had managed to take out Mastodon, but he was losing blood, quickly. A section of his arm seemed to have been bit into by the beast. Joey had beat the creature, and then collapsed on top of him. She wondered if she could get to him and to the castle’s medical facilities without getting attacked. Perhaps they would consider a temporary flag of truce, to tend to the wounded, and perhaps discuss the matter like civilized adults.

The whoop from Adam Crown as Proctor dropped, the blood-lust of the Ebony Blade crying out in frustration as it clattered to the floor, both brought her hope, and made her wonder if any one of them, on any side, would really be willing to listen to reason. Things had progressed this far without it… was there really hope in bringing things back under control now?

Druid had finally succumbed. Mastodon had been taken removed from play. The American Marvel was down. Proctor had been taken out. Asp was no longer a problem.

Union Jack needed immediate medical treatment. Jackie was out. Danner seemed to be toying with both Shevaun and Captain Kerosene. By the way they were holding themselves, it didn’t seem like either of them would be in the fight very much longer, barring a miracle. And he was lying on the stone floor.

Adam was already fighting with Sersi, or rather trying to. Betsy knew what Sersi was capable of doing to the reincarnated King Arthur, with or without Excalibur in his hand. The young man had grown so much over the last couple of weeks, but there were still limits to what he was capable of doing. If she left him to his own devices, he was about to meet those head-on. She ran through Sean, who had moved to stay in her path, feeling a chill run down the length of her body as she did so. There was something creepy about passing through a spirit… something… she couldn’t quite place it. It was then that she noticed that she was no longer moving forward, her body frozen in place.

“Oh yeah,” Sean chuckled, “Remember when I said that I couldn’t hurt you? You never asked if you could hurt yourself!”

The battle raged on, but it wasn’t going to last much longer, she knew it. It didn’t matter how well Adam did against Sersi. When it got right down to it, he was going to have to find a way to take Danner out of the picture. There was no way he was going to be able to do that.

“I’m so sorry Brian,” she whispered, “Whatever you’re up to, it better be worth it.”

The battle continued to rage, but the outcome was more and more clear to her by the minute. Everything was lost.

Jamie Braddock stifled a laugh. It was hilarious really, watching his brother Brian stagger across the floor, blood oozing from a terrible wound. He remembered Brian crying when he was a little boy, moaning over some trifling injury he'd received playing cricket -- Jamie had teased him mercilessly, calling him a baby. It had made Brian so mad, but it had driven him to be stronger, tougher. And now look at him. "Baby, Baby," Jamie whispered, his voice sounded leathery and old. He pulled against the chains that bound him and screamed louder. "Baby! Baby! You're nothing more than a mewling little baby, Brian!"

The Black Knight stared at Infinitus, at the nearly naked mad thing that he was, and felt utter revulsion. He wasn't sure what was worse -- that Brian had trapped his own brother in a dungeon, chained to a wall, to be kept like some animal... or that Brian hadn't done the sensible thing and put the poor brute out of its misery. One thing was certain, however -- there could be no curing a monster like that, who would chortle with glee over his own brother's impending demise.

And that's what this is, isn't it? Dane mused. I'm going to have to kill him. He felt ancient, despite the fact that he was young in this form. He remembered the days in the Crusades, when he'd hacked the limbs of his enemies until his own muscles screamed in agony. He'd seen so much blood and death that it had sickened him and left a taint on his soul. But nothing was as bad as this.

Meggan's roar of anger and dismay shocked Dane back to reality. He half-turned his body, catching her leaping form against the Shield of Night. She'd transformed into a were-thing, hissing and scratching. Her beauty was gone, replaced by the horrific visage of a monster. "Damn you, Dane! Why did you do that? Why did you hurt my Brian?!"

"Because your Brian has gone off the deep end!" The Knight slashed at her with the broad portion of his blade, smacking her hard across the cheek. Meggan tumbled back, landing hard on the ground. Blood oozed from the back of her head and Dane muttered a curse under his breath. If he harmed her child, he'd never forgive himself... He knelt beside her, checking for a pulse. It seemed strong enough, but he was certainly no doctor.

Dane looked behind him, seeing King Brian looming over them both. His black uniform was stained with blood, wetting everything from his chest down. He had one hand resting on the limb of the World Tree, which still protruded from his body. He stared at Dane with haunted eyes, using all of his great power to pull the weapon from the wound. It emerged with a schlupping sound, accompanied by what almost looked like a small river of gore.

The Black Knight rose to his feet, backing away slowly. He recognized the look in Brian's eyes, having seen it before. The man was close to giving way to that peculiar form of rage that seemed to infect the Braddocks -- almost as if their special nature made them more susceptible to madness. Given Jamie's state, maybe that's true. "We don't have to do it this way, Brian."

"You should have tried talking before you stabbed me, Dane. I think you've made your intentions clear now...." The former Captain Britain launched himself through the air, slamming hard into the Shield of Night. The force of the blow was enough to rattle the teeth in Dane's head and he grunted out loud in response.

The Black Knight answered the attack with a swipe of his blade, the sword slashing open another gash just below the larger wound. Dane was amazed that the man could still stand -- you could practically see through to the other side.

The two old friends, now embittered enemies, fought in silence from that point on. No quarter was given and none was asked. They fought because they each felt they had to -- for Dane Whitman, it was to safeguard his universe. He had recently lost much of his youth and, possibly even worse, the hand of his beloved, Sersi. All of his rage and disappointment now seemed to be symbolized in the man before him -- a friend gone rogue. Brian had squandered so much, so much that Dane longed to have -- the love of a good woman, the trust and admiration of a kingdom. How could Brian have fallen so far, lost so much?

For King Brian, he fought to protect his pregnant wife and his older brother. It was obvious that Dane had been corrupted by those who sought to bring down the House of Braddock -- those who wished to see Brian and his loved ones smashed to pieces, all because Brian dared to try and make amends. His predecessors, Roma and Merlyn, had left the universe in such disarray... and he'd sought to rectify that with his rebuilt Captain Britain Corps and Dark Guard. But all of that had been taken so wrong, been misconstrued... How could Dane think this of him, forget all that they had shared?

Jamie Braddock stared at the small piece of wood, so carelessly tossed aside. His brother and the Knight had forgotten about, lost in their own manly affairs. Energy cascaded from the wood, primal stuff that had helped forge reality. The sap that dripped from its ragged edge seemed to calm Jamie's madness, seemed to reach out and find the man within the sick, twisted thing he had become.

Jamie Braddock felt the energy from the wood envelop him, dissolving the bonds and the power nullifying helmet that normally held him restrained. He floated into the air, the wood before him, and he felt the glory of Heaven within his soul.

Below them, still fighting, the two former comrades-in-arms pummeled one another again and again. Dane's helmet was cracked on the side, a bit of blood seeping from beneath the flattened metal. He had long since lost the Shield of Night, having had it torn away from him by Brian. But he had given as good as he got, blackening one of Brian's eyes and knocking one of the King's teeth loose.

Both of them staggered now, their breath ragged and uneasy. Though he never would have admitted it, Brian was growing more and more frightened. Meggan needed help -- immediate help. But he couldn't afford to let up with Dane in his current state. Whatever had driven the former Pendragon mad could just as easily cause him to set loose upon Meggan again.

Brian moved to shield his wife's body, trying to ignore the pool of blood beneath her. It upset him too much to see it. Instead, he used his incredible power -- his birthright -- to call out to the Dark Guard and to the Captain Britain Corps. There was no answer, save for a vague sense of urgency -- and Brian realized with a terrible sinking feeling that the Corps and the Guard had been distracted by something. "You tried to cut me off from aid, didn't you? How did you manage it, Dane? You couldn't have done this alone...."

"I had help, Brian. From someone who knows you just as well as I do." The Black Knight spat out blood onto the floor. "She's the one who told me how far your lies had gone."

Brian opened his eyes, watching as the tall, thin beauty named Roma entered the room. She cast one quick glance at the Black Knight, taking in his many injuries, before turning her attention back to Brian. He felt as if his world were spinning out of control, making him wonder how much blood he'd lost -- could his healing powers extend to himself? He'd never tried.... "Why would you do this? You know me, Roma. You know me."

"I know you're a good man at heart, Brian -- but a terribly flawed one, as well. You've put things in motion that can only end in disaster."

Brian shook his head, wanting to explain... wanting to make it all go away. But he couldn't find his voice, he could only feel a terrible sadness overtake him. "I'm not going to let you kill Jamie."

Roma's eyes reflected every bit of Brian's own anguish. "It's too late for anything but. We have failed."

Dane looked at her in surprise, following her gaze to the figure who hovered above them. Jamie Braddock was there, surrounded by the fires of creation. "Oh, no...."

Brian took a step forward, seemingly eager to engage his brother in some sort of conversation, but Roma would have none of it. Things had gone horribly wrong, even after all her planning. Dane had failed to slay Brian and his brother, leaving only course of action available to her. She raised both hands, summoning all the magic that she could channel -- and with a flash of eldritch light, she summoned her Ultraforce to her.

To Dane's surprise, the Pendragons were amongst them. Both groups looked terrible and in no shape for continued fighting, but Dane knew that Roma meant to throw them both against Infinitus in one final, suicidal attack. He reached out and grabbed her sleeve. "Why all of them? The Pendragons will just get in the way!"

"We have little enough chance as it is, Dane. The power of Infinitus is beyond belief -- Let the Pendragons stand with us now and perhaps we shall live to see another day!"

Betsy Braddock flew to her brother's side, her mouth open wide at the sight of Jamie's power. "Brian! What's going on?"

Betsy saw her brother's wounds... and the horrible injuries to Meggan, as well. Her mind reeled at the thought that Dane could have taken part in all this. "Pendragons! Defend the King!"

Adam Crown led the others in resuming their conflict with the Ultraforce, even as Roma tried to sway them all to her side. "Stop this at once!" she yelled, her voice shrill with concern. "We have to work together or all is lost!"

If anyone heard her, there was no sign of it. The Man-God and his allies were ferocious in battle, matched by the Pendragons, who now fought for a definable goal -- the defense of Brian Braddock and his wife.

He saw brightly colored men and women throwing themselves against one another in a tremendous battle. They were like little dolls, splattered by increasing amounts of red paint. It was like his childhood game of War taken to the ultimate extreme.

The hunk of wood that had been torn from the World Tree lay before him and its horrible rays of energy were ruining his fun. He could feel it in his veins, the power of Life. It battled against the madness that had taken root in his soul, burning it to a cinder. And for the first time in so very long, Jamie Braddock stared into the mirror of his heart -- and saw the monster that he really and truly was. He screamed, clawing at his face with his fingernails, tracing bloody tracks from his eyes on down.

It was Heaven on Acid and it exploded every single neuron in Jamie's brain, leaving him floating in a void far away from the din of battle.

He seemed to fall through gossamer strands of light, each lightly caressing his ravaged body, a body that he had polluted through drugs, drink and debauchery. And when he landed, it was in the cool waters of Avalon.

Her face took shape, so achingly wonderful that he wanted to love her forever. "They have been closed for such a long time. You have forgotten what true vision is like."

He rose to a sitting position, the water all around his nude form. He felt cleansed and whole, as if the waters had washed away the sins of a lifetime. "You're the Lady of the Lake, aren't you?"

"But it's not meant for the likes of me," he whispered, clasping his own hand over hers. He wanted her to remain touching him forever.

"Otherworld is connected to Avalon in many ways, my child. Your family is and always will be special in my heart. The wildness within you is a sign of the Green Knight's power gone awry. The power to create and to destroy. You were a Pendragon lost amidst the sea of your soul, Jamie Braddock. But now that you are touched by the power of the World Tree, the turmoil is quelled."

Jamie looked away, swallowing hard. "But it will never be truly over will it? Even if I live a thousand years, there will be doubts about me -- and I will share them. I'm... sick. Not right. And Brian and Betsy suffer for it."

And the vision was gone, if it had ever existed in reality. The battle remained unchecked, with heroes falling amidst their brothers and sisters.

Jamie Braddock looked down at Brian... and Betsy... and, for the briefest of seconds, he saw his own father, James, smiling up at him. "The days of madness are over, my siblings! Everything shall end in fire and rain!"

Betsy saw her older brother, grab hold of the wooden shaft that hung before him. He hefted it like some great war club and threw himself down upon them. She had no reason to think that it was anything other than some attempt to kill them all -- for Jamie had tried it often enough over the years. Throwing up the force shield generated by her costume, she tried to protect Brian and even the damnable Black Knight as best she could. By the time Jamie reached them, he was a fireball. Flames and magical energy surrounded him, hiding almost all his features. But Betsy would later swear that in the instant before he struck her force field, she had seen his face -- and that he looked happy. Not the happiness that comes with madness... but the pure, unadulterated pleasure of childhood reborn.

Dane Whitman stood on the shores of Lyonesse, knowing that it was probably going to be for the last time. He'd helped found this group of Pendragons, thinking that this was going to be a new home for him, a new family.

He turned to see Betsy Braddock walking towards him. Her Captain Britain uniform had been left in tatters, so she now wore a one-piece bodysuit reminiscent of her classic Psylocke costume. Her face, though still beautiful, bore bruises and cuts -- and Dane knew she'd been one of the luckier combatants. Some of them had suffered broken bones and numerous internal injuries. "How's Brian?" he asked, his voice sounding old even to his own ears.

Betsy studied the deep lines in his face, understanding how much he'd lost in recent times. His youth... his honor... his woman. She felt a brief pang of pity for him, but it was tempered with anger. "He'll live. The magicks of Otherworld are working on him -- but the wound was deep and the World Tree's one of the few things that could kill him now."

Dane nodded, looking out once more on the ocean waves. "I wish it hadn't come to this. If there'd been any other way, I would have taken it."

Dane held his tongue, thinking of a thousand different excuses for his actions. But they all sounded hollow and without true meaning. "I'm sorry."

Dane glanced at her face, at the fury that lurked beneath the calm surface that she projected. He could see Proctor and the others beginning to descend from the castle, coming for him. It was time to go.

"So now you're working with Proctor? That should have been our first clue that you'd lost it." Betsy's voice was no more than a whisper but it struck Dane at his heart. Had she seen what he had seen? How Proctor's hand dropped away from Sersi's just now, as if they had been walking arm-in-arm only a moment before?

"Sometimes necessity forces us to make alliances that we wouldn't otherwise. I did what I felt I had to do -- and you're right. I would do it again. For all those beings who don't have a voice of their own in the affairs of Gods and Kings." He turned to face her, aware that the sun was setting behind him. It cast them both in odd, elongated shadows on the ground. They looked inhuman, like twisted parodies of man and woman. The scene symbolized so much for him -- what should have been a wonderful, heroic triumph over the forces of evil... capped off by a sunset goodbye to a beautiful damsel. Instead, it was the final farewell to a friend who now despised him, with the sun seeming to set on all the noble intentions that Dane had started the day with. "Maybe someday, we'll get past this."

Dane felt her psi-blade slash through his stomach, frying all his synapses. The pain was ungodly but he did not resist. He fell backwards, landing on the wet sand, staring up into the face of Betsy Braddock. She spat upon him and then turned, shoving her way past the group that Roma had nicknamed Ultraforce.

He continued to lie there, staring into the sun, until Hugo Danner arrived to offer him a hand.

Robbie Parkinson walked the corridors of St. Mary's Rest Home in the outskirts of Bristol, surprised by the intensity of memories he was experiencing. He knew this building as well as the house he had grown up in. He had come here at least once a month during his childhood, up until the day his grandfather had died when he was thirteen. Grandpa Sinclair had brought Robbie and his sister here on the first Sunday of every month until a drunk driver had crashed his lorry into Grandpa's car, leaving a charred body to bury that they had not even been able to view. The visits had become fewer after that. Robbie's father never approved of his children coming here and dwelling in the past as he called it, and it was just too far for Robbie to regularly travel to on his own with his limited pocket-money.

As much as he had mourned his maternal grandfather, who had been closer to Robbie than his own father had ever been, Robbie had been relieved not to have to keep visiting this place that reeked of death. As a young child it had been an adventure, but when he was eleven he realised that his mother was not going to ever wake up, and his father had stopped visiting because he had accepted that they could all do nothing but wait for his wife to die.

Robbie passed a mirror and stopped to check his reflection. To his eyes, he looked like a child trying to pass as a grown-up. His red hair was neatly combed to the side, and as for his clothes… He was not sure why he had decided to wear a tie. He had not worn one since his grandfather's funeral. Yet somehow he wanted to look good for his mother, even if he knew logically she would not know what he was wearing. Warren Worthington, or at least the man Robbie had believed to be Warren, had taken him shopping a few months ago when they were both mainstays of the interim Pendragons team. “Warren” had insisted that Robbie had bought some smart outfits, and Robbie had reluctantly agreed to placate his teammate, secretly thinking he would never actually wear them.

He braced himself, and opened the door to the room that had been occupied by the same woman for almost twenty years. It was like taking a tunnel to the past. The curtains were new and the room had been repainted, but in most ways it was exactly as it was before his grandfather's death. Grandpa Sinclair had loved his only daughter more than life itself, and had regularly brought photographs of her children and of things that had interested her when she was conscious. Those pictures were still around her, showing Robbie and his sister at various ages right up to Grandpa's death. If Robbie's father ever came here, which he doubted, then he did not bring his wife anything. He knew she could not appreciate them.

Robbie had brought her flowers - yellow daffodils for spring. His memories of his mother before the attack were few, but he remembered holding her hand as she pushed his sister in her pram while she bought a punch of daffodils. He hoped somehow she would appreciate them.

He sat down on the side of the bed and looked at his mother. She looked older than he remembered. Her hair had turned white and there were a few more wrinkles than he recalled, but overall she looked peaceful. As a boy, he and his sister had convinced themselves that she was Sleeping Beauty. When his grandfather left the room to go to the bathroom or to talk to the nurses, he would tell his sister to stand watch in the corridor while he pretended to be a prince and kissed her on the cheek. It had never worked. No wonder he always felt inadequate as a child.

“Hi Mom,” he told her, taking her hand. “It's Robbie. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“You won't believe the stories I have for you. I think you'd be proud of me. I'm a hero, like you and Grandpa! Or at least, I'm trying to be. My life has turned into a Star Trek episode. I'm a member of a team called the Dark Guard - we're all ex-members of the Pendragons who try to fix anomalies in the timestream. I know it sounds wild. I keep expecting Captain Kirk to tap me on the shoulder. Don't worry - I don't wear a red shirt.”

He laughed at his own joke, more heartily than the joke deserved. The laughter sounded hollow in the room, like someone laughing at a funeral.

“So I guess you're wondering how all of this happened. Believe it or not, it was due to Dad of all people. I know, I know, it's unbelievable. You know he was always tinkering with Grandpa's gloves - I mean, obviously you do. That's how you ended up here… Anyhow, after Grandpa died, I guess you could say I went off the rails. I was never popular as a kid - I tried to live up to Grandpa's ideals, which made me very uncool in the eyes of the other kids. Eventually I got tired of trying to live up to every one's ideals and I fell in with a bad crowd. I… I got into drugs, Mom. I… did some things I'm not proud of, and that I try not to think about. I'm off them now though. I haven't touched anything in over five years, and I never will again. I promise, Mom. I promise on Grandpa's grave!”

Robbie squeezed her hand gently, but she did not respond. “So… any how, I guess Dad finally took his head out of the lab to realise the state I had got myself into. He got me into a programme - you know, one of those clinics where every one sits around and talks about their feelings. I thought it was going to be a nightmare, and it was, but it was what I needed. There was a social worker there that really helped me - he made me realise that I had to stop blaming everyone for my mistakes and my shortcomings. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, harder than being Thunderfist even. And you know how hard that was.”

He picked up a framed newspaper article beside her bed. It was the front page of a local newspaper, with a young woman wearing the costume he inherited from his grandfather and a cruder version of the Thunderfist gloves. The headline above the photograph was cringe making, but it had a certain charm that made him smile.

“Tina Thunderfist Thumps Thieves. They certainly liked their alliteration, Mom, didn't they? I bet you were really embarrassed when you saw this. How could you have been anything else? Grandpa was really proud of you though. Your name wasn't even Tina, but you wanted to remind people that he had fought for England as Tommy Thunderfist during World War II.”

He placed the photograph back on the bedside table and once again took her hand. “After I got clean, I tried to get my life back together. I didn't have much. I never finished school and I had no skills other than a mean left fist, so I ended up signing on the dole and sitting around in a grotty bedsit on Manor Street. I got a job working in a backstreet gym where I used to work out every day to try to stay clean. I got very fit and then a friend of Dad's approached me. She offered me a place in a government program that I shouldn't have even been considered for. I didn't know why she picked me. She said I deserved another chance and that it was my birthright. It never occurred to me that I might become the new Thunderfist.”

He opened his backpack and took out another photograph, this time of him as the Pendragon known as Thunderfist. “That's right, Mom. I joined the family firm. It turns out that Dad had kept working on the gloves after your… injury. Typical Dad. He could only give up on people, not on a science project. The government couldn't get any one to get them to work though. I guess that's why Grandpa was originally given them during the war. No one knows where they came from originally, but something in our DNA seems to give us the aptitude to use them properly. Go figure. That's why I'm here Mom. I haven't seen Dad or Izzy since I became Thunderfist, but all of the adventures I've had have made me think about you and what happened to you. I guess… I guess I wanted you to know that I still miss you, and that I'm going to try to put things right.”

He kissed his mother on the forehead and prepared to say goodbye. He was shocked to notice that there was a tear starting to roll down her left cheek. The logical part of his brain told him that it was probably just a normal physiological activity. Maybe something had got into her eye and it was watering to get rid of it. He did not care though. He chose to take it as a sign that somehow, somewhere, she had heard him.

He recognised the voice immediately. He turned around to see his sister Izzy standing in the doorway. She had changed. It had been two years since he had seen her last - when his Dad had thrown him out of the house when he had announced that he was following in his mother's footsteps. It was one of the only times that his father had shown any emotion since what had happened to his wife, which had made the event even more shocking. Izzy had been eighteen when he had last seen her, making her only twenty now, but she was unrecognisable. Her long red hair had been cut away and replaced with a neat crop, she was devoid of makeup, and she seemed… different. She had still been his baby sister when he had last seen her, but she now had an aura of being older than her years. The change genuinely shocked him.

She pushed him aside and checked that her mother was okay. “Well, the feeling isn't mutual. Go back to wherever you came from.”

“Izzy?” Robbie asked, hurt. “I know it's been a while but I'm genuinely sorry about every thing that happened in the past. I've been trying to make amends by being Thunderfist. I was on my way to see you as soon as I left here.”

Robbie felt weak as his brain struggled to understand what she had said. “What…?”

""Dad's dead, Robbie!" Izzy cried, trying in vain to hide her tears as she shouted at her brother as months of repressed anger was unleashed. "He couldn't take any more, Rob! It was bad enough that his wife became a vegetable after getting her head caved in by an American super-villain six months after putting on the gloves, leaving him with two kids to raise! But oh no - first you break his heart by becoming a junkie and stealing from him to get high, but this! Following in Mom's footsteps! You were his son, Robbie! He might not have been the most affectionate Dad in the world, but he couldn't take it. He... he had a heart attack a few years back but he never told you because you were so strung out. His heart never recovered from it. I found him in the kitchen the day after your picture first appeared in the newspaper, Robbie. He was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper open on the page with your photo. His heart must have finally given up. You killed him - You killed him as surely as if you put a bullet in his brain!""

Robbie opened his mouth to reply but he could not think of any words to convey his feelings. This was impossible. Surely this had to be impossible. How could this be real? It had to be a joke - some sort of sick twisted joke.

“You didn't even help me bury him,” Izzy continued, her tears now impossible to conceal. “I could have forgiven you everything if you had been there, Robbie. But I had to do it alone.”

“I was saving the universe…” Robbie whispered, his words sounding inadequate even to his own ears.

“Pity you couldn't spare some time to save your own father,” Izzy answered, throwing the photograph he had left for their mother at him. He easily avoided it, but it hit the ground hard, shattering the glass.

Neither Robbie nor Izzy spoke as they both looked at the shards, until Izzy stared at Robbie with such a hatred that he thought what little remained of his heart was shattering like the glass on the floor. “Get out of here, Robbie. You're not welcome here any more.”

She turned her back on him and sat on the bed, holding their mother's hand just as he had a few minutes previously.

Robbie stared at her, noting that her body was shaking. He wanted to go up to her and hold her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was and to explain that he did not know what had happened. He wanted to comfort her. He was a hero after all.

But he knew that she did not want to hear it, not yet at least. The mere sight of him was upsetting her. So he did the only thing he could do for her. He left her alone.

He walked in a daze through the corridors of the rest home until he walked out into the car park where the brightness of the sun temporarily blinded him. It reminded him of the first day he had ever got high.

An attractive woman with long red hair was leaning against a car waiting for him. She wore dark sunglasses and a t-shirt and shorts. She was breath taking, yet he would never be worthy of her now. He was a fool to even think he ever could be.

Tangerine sensed his thoughts and smiled at him. She was about to ask how things went, when the torment his thoughts were in reached her. She was telepath and tried not to read her teammates' thoughts unless she had to, but some things even she could not block out.

“Oh Robbie,” she whispered, putting her arms around him. “It will be okay. I promise. Just give her time…”

Robbie said nothing as he let her try to comfort her. He was numb. He had destroyed what was left of his family and his sister hated him. How could he ever make up for that?

“I've done terrible things in my life,” Tangerine told him, making him look at her. “You have no idea what it was like where I come from. But I know a hero when I see one, Robbie. You can't live in the past. It's the decisions you make now that matter, and you have so much good to do. Some day Izzy will see what the rest of us do when we look at you.”

Robbie doubted that. He had thought he had finally become worthy to adopt the identity of his grandfather and his mother, but he had never felt such a failure in his entire life.

Back in his mother's room, Izzy searched her handbag for a tissue to wipe away her tears. Her search ceased when she saw a business card she had been given at her father's funeral. She had dismissed it then, but had been unable to throw it out. Now she knew why. She looked at her mother, lying so still. She looked at photos of her grandfather, who had tried so hard to be there for all of his family. And then she looked down at the photograph of her brother on the floor. He had taken their identity and she could not stand it. They deserved better.

“Isabelle!” Dr.Oonagh Mullarky greeted her, trying to mask her surprise. She had known this day would someday come. “How delightful to hear from you after all this time!”

“I want to take you up on the offer you made at my father's funeral,” Izzy continued, her words rushing together in case she lost her courage and never said them. “I'm prepared to do whatever it takes, Dr. Mullarky. I want to be the new Thunderfist.”

He found the evidence in an old junk shop outside of Birmingham, where he was covering a music festival for the Post. He paid for them with a five pound note and did not wait for change.

A few blocks away from the shop, he sat down on a bench near a post box and flipped through the magazines. The title, Warrior, seemed a bit grand for what it was, but he didn’t care about the intention of the editor.

It was the indisputable evidence that he had escaped the tyranny of the Typewriter Gods.

He had suspected that this was the case shortly after the Black Mass incident, when he found himself free of the weird smoke-filled limbo haunted by rotting corpses in gaudy costumes. The morning he woke up next to a woman who wasn’t Liz but was like her, a woman who bore the name the Typewriter Gods gave his daughter, he wept.

Winter didn’t know what to make of his sudden outpouring and drew him to her breast, stroking his thinning hair until all that was left was great gulping sobs. She didn’t know he was weeping tears of joy.

He knew instinctively what had happened. It had all come to him after the first confirmed sighting of the man-god anyway, and each fawning report about Micky Moran’s return only made him even more paranoid.

There were times when he swore he saw the Typewriter Gods out of the corner of his eye. He’d be shopping with Winter when the long haired one with the mad eyes would appear, or the handsome one in the leather jacket. He had to tamp down the impulse to run, of course; it would do no good for him to bolt suddenly down the high street, screaming for help. After all, the Typewriter Gods once controlled him and his world. A simple series of keystrokes and he would find no help, no one to help him. And if he continued to resist their effort to guide him…

He sifted through the half dozen issues and wondered who had escaped with him. He had a pretty good idea if he looked closely; some of the characters glowed faintly with a soothing white light, as if they were more than ink on paper.

His fingers stroked the representation of Liz in the pages of one issue, and his heart felt like it was shriveling as he recalled the life he once shared with her, a life the wild-eyed Typewriter God took away from him before delivering him to the blonde sow…

He thumbed through the pages once more, memorizing which ones had that soft glow. The spy. The pyretic (he was only seen in the pages of the Summer Special, but for some reason, he was never far from his mind when he transformed). The machinist. The assassin.

As he recalled meeting them all (well, except for the assassin, but she was from the future—which he could have theoretically visited, but why would he have wanted to? To join the anarchist in his fight against the fascist state the Typewriter Gods’ Britain had become?), the urge came over him. It was subtle, slight, little more than a tickle at the base of his neck. He looked both ways, his lips quivering.

He whirled around, convinced that the ill-spoken, loudmouthed Typewriter God was watching over his shoulder, whispering him to say the Word that would transform him into the Puppet of the Keys. He somehow knew that one, the last of the Gods to have dominion over him, was always teasing his return, always trying to force him back out into his world…

He wouldn’t become their puppet again. He would not allow it. Even if it meant prevent Micky Moran and the others from coming forth into the light of day.

He would not allow the Age of Miracles to come into being. No matter what it took.

He deliberately shredded the copies of Warrior and stood up. The rain was beginning to fall.

And he had plans to make, plans that would stop his other half from ever opening the door to the Typewriter Gods again.

Next Issue: As Miracleman flies off into his own series, our heroes try to recover from the terrible events of "The Shaping." How will Cam's new status quo affect his relationship with his teammates -- and what surprising new foe threatens to turn Captain Britain's life upside-down? Plus: follow the ordeal of Brian Braddock in the pages of Captain Britain: House Braddock # 6!

Welcome to the monster issue # 25. This thing kept growing and growing, but I thought it was appropriate to pull out all the stops for such an important issue. In American comics, particular importance has placed on 'anniversary' issues and I've always liked seeing creators pull out all the stops for such a thing and make them really special. I hope you think we pulled it off. Thanks to all the contributors to this issue -- Gary Dreslinski, Tom Deja and Gary Halpin. You guys made it all the more fun. Special thanks also go out to the whole gang at Avengers 2000, who gave us a home after the implosion of Omniverse, our former host. We wouldn't be here without you!

Some of the events that are mentioned in this issue (like Cam's new relationship with the Penance Council) will be played out over the next few months -- but I'm going to take a nice (but brief!) vacation from things for a bit to recover from the mad rush we've been on at the Pendragons Imprint.

Now, we have some letters and then I expect all of you to rush over and check out Miracles, Inc. # 1 by Tom Deja!

Amazing issue! Great to see Captain Kerosene (and as a member of the team..cool). I can't wait for the Black Knight and Ultraforce(the same one from MV1?) vs. Pendragons fight...should be quite a sight. Now on to the Questions:

1) Is there any chance of heroes of the post Black September Ultraverse fleeing to the Pendragon MU? Since they could have lost the battle with that one group of alien invaders... and the Ultraverse deserves better than to be swept under the rug...

2) Is there any chance of Dr. Druid coming back from the grave? All the magic in England (plus the fact that the druids were there) seems to be the right place for the protoDr. Strange to come back...though as a hero or a villian?

3) I really,really,really,really want to see the Pendragons fight Daimon Hellstrom (Psylocke should know that Blackheart is the son of Mephisto... not Marduk Kurios (aka Satan)..though Daimon Hellstrom is).

4) Is there any chance of the Get Backers( an anime..though such has been made part of the MU before *cough Shogun Warriors cough*) be made part of the Pendragons universe due to Infinitus?

8) Is there any chance of the Defenders trying to resurrect Dr. Strange?

9) Is there any chance of Death Metal showing up?

Hi Jason -- As always, it's nice to know you're reading and intrigued enough to comment. I'll answer your questions point-by-point:

1) I loved the Ultraverse and used some of those heroes in some Black Knight stories I wrote for the Marvel Volume One fanfic group. But I don't plan to use any of them here, though Gary Dreslinski has plans for at least one Ultraverse character in his Black Knight: Destiny Walk series.

2) Check out Black Knight: Destiny Walk, where you should be very happy, indeed. The Druid is indeed back once more.

3) As you can see from this issue, Marduk is apparently on the way. Will Daimon follow suit? We'll see. I liked the character somewhat during his Defenders stint but the Daimon-as-villain shtick hasn't really excited me.

5 - 7) Unfortunately, none of those characters will be playing roles in the series. I enjoyed the Lost Generation series but I'm fairly sure that none of them made it past the Barrier.

8) It's possible that the Defenders, or someone else, on the outside of the Barrier might wise up to the deaths of the various mages and try to restore them, but I have no plans to show it if they do. I'm going to focus on the mages inside the Barrier (like Jennifer Kale, Paradox and Satana) for now.

I really liked it. Am rushing for a train so these are going to be brief. :)
* Loved the Dark Angel scene. Sort of questionable that she entered his dreams, but every one is always curious about a new lover. Loved the shag line. You set up Tom's series excellently but I did wonder: when Jamie made other characters real, didn't he do it retroactively?

* Captain Keresone is cool. I like the fact there's going to be an older character in the team with all of the males being relatively young. I wonder if Spitfire and he might have some history?

* I went "ugh" when I realised yet another American character was in Europe before the Barrier went up, but you explained it pretty well. The battle was very well done, and I'm glad the subplot wasn't dragged out too long. You remind me of Fabian Nicizea, as I told you before. Loads of subplots, all wrapped up in a couple of issues and replaced with new ones.

Thanks, Gary! I admit that Shevaun's peeking into Miracleman's dreams was a bit on the sly side, but I see her as having a streak of mischievousness that can't be denied sometimes. It's part of what makes their romance seem so interesting to me. As for Gulliver (Captain Kerosene), I plan to do some interesting stuff with him, Jackie and Joey.