Pendragon Comics - The Pendragons

The Pendragons

Issue # 77

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 surviving members of the old Knights of Pendragon group, as well as several other heroes. Willing to die for their beliefs, the Pendragons stand united as Britain'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!

Pendragons Roll-Call: Captain Britain (leader), Cybermancer, Ghost Rider, Nocturne, Polaris, Spitfire, Union Jack

Written by Barry Reese

The blood ran streaming down his throat, evoking a soft purring sound from his lips. He liked this. Liked it a lot. Despite all the pain and fury he'd felt over the years, having Lilith awaken his birthright had given the man called Blackout a true sense of belonging for the first time.

He tossed the girl away, not caring that she still clung to life. She'd bleed out soon enough and there would be no witnesses left behind. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing her blood on his tattered jacket. The nightclub next door was still rocking away, the heavy industrial sound of the music matching the pounding of Blackout's heart.

He looked up into the pink-red moon and felt an insane urge to bay at it, announce his power to all the world....

There were beings out there who would hunt Blackout down and seek to make him pay for his supposed crimes. A smile played across his lips as he thought of Ghost Rider. A Pendragon. Hero to the masses.

A laugh escaped him as he ran towards a brick wall. He threw himself at it, his fingernails digging deep as he began to pull himself up onto the roof. He'd hated the so-called Spirit of Vengeance for so long it was almost second nature to him. But their little war was about to take a different turn.

There was a man there, standing with his back to him. Blackout approached slowly, cautiously, watching as the man stared out into space, his eyes fixed on something far off in the distance. "I'm done," Blackout said.

"I'm not used to being kept waiting. Especially when I come bearing gifts," the man replied. When he turned back to Blackout, his handsome, ghostly white features twisted into an expression of disgust. His eyes raked over the pseudo-vampire, taking in the flecks of blood and gore. He was dressed very expensively and more than a little out of style, with a Victorian air to him. "Ready for bigger game?"

"I am... but I'm curious," Blackout smiled, tossing his hair. "Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

"My reasons are my own. Any further inquiries might result in my offer being withdrawn."

The man held out his hands and Blackout gripped them. A rush of energy seemed to pass between them and Blackout felt a moment of blind panic. What if this were a trap? What if this killed him? He started to pull away but found that he could not. Whatever strange energy was swirling between them held him fast, like a fly trapped in amber.

Blackout felt his tongue swelling in his throat and the hair on his head begin to rise. His feet left the roof top by inches. "Sinister."

Blackout's mind flashed with power and he fell backwards. All through his system small nanites swam their way into his molecular structure. They altered, augmented and probed every facet of his being. Though his howls of pain suggested otherwise, they were purifying him.

Mr. Sinister watched him writhe about, taking out a small PDA into which he typed his notes. The x-bots appeared to function perfectly -- one touch from him and they seeped into the other's body, evolving him to his peak nature.

As Nathaniel Essex, he had been a Victorian-era geneticist, one who had seen far into the future. Mankind was going to become obsolete. So brilliant was his work that it inspired many, including the man who would become the High Evolutionary. Essex had eventually fallen under the sway of a powerful mutant named Apocalypse, who molded him into something immortal and deadly -- Mr. Sinister.

"I'll kill you," Blackout hissed, struggling to his feet. He looked slightly larger than before, as if something new was inside him and it had trouble fitting into his old skin.

"I doubt that," Sinister replied, his voice staying even. If he was drawing any enjoyment from Blackout's pain, he didn't let it show. "And I never said that your augmentation would be painless."

A sigh escaped Sinister's lips and he looked away from the bestial thing before him. As a man of science, he was sometimes forced to deal with lesser men, but it was never easy for one of high birth. "Hunt your enemies and attempt to slay them."

Blackout snarled, leaping to his feet in an impressive display of agility. "If your power boost works, the pain will be worth it... and if it doesn't, you'll be seeing me again."

Sinister ignored the implied threat, instead walking towards the edge of the roof top. He was lost in thought again, marveling at the strange changes wrought by the Barrier. Science was waning, with magic gaining a stronger foothold than ever. But his x-bots offered a hope of changing that. They reworked man on a cellular level, evolving him through purely scientific means. More and more, Sinister felt there was a war here... a war for the very soul of man. Would science or the occult control their future?

"I'm going to save them all," he whispered. A feeling of joy rushed through him, for he had always seen himself as a pioneer and a hero. It was a pity that sometimes men and women had to suffer for his greatness, but such was always the case and could not be helped. "I will root out the magic that's plaguing our lives and snuff it out. And in the end, mankind will evolve to its next step -- and it will be my hand that does the prodding."

"So, not to sound like a bloody idiot or anythin'... but why are we here again?" Joey Chapman held a semi-automatic in one hand, scanning the surrounding darkness like a vigilant watchman.

"Because Betsy says it's part of her plan to drop the Barrier," Spitfire replied. She knew that Joey enjoyed being difficult, but sometimes it was just too much. On this particular night, she wasn't able to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She knew that she would just feed him by getting annoyed, but it was too difficult to stop once it had begun. She walked slowly around the exterior of the old church, feeling the weight of history in every step. The house of god had long since long its sacred nature, having been violated on numerous occasions. During the 1960s, a neighboring tomb was broken into, with the bones scattered about in some occult pattern. It was just one of many acts of vandalism, all perpetrated by those who were drawn to the place's dark air. Alongside Stonehenge, Dun-shi Hill and the Doubler Stones, it had been a key spot in Blackheart's ability to raise the Black Mass Barrier*, as well.

"Dropping the Barrier." Joey pushed his mask up, letting it rest atop his head. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth before continuing. "There's a Martian invasion going on out there, remember? Who's to say we're not better off waiting for the Avengers to drive 'em off before we pop out from under the Barrier?"

"You're talking like a coward," Jackie replied hotly. "We owe it to the rest of the world -- and all those poor souls who've got people on the other side. How would you like it if we were separated by this thing?" she asked, gesturing at the oddly colored skies. "Once the Barrier's down, we help liberate the Earth."

"You make it sound as easy as going on holiday. Besides, our first priority is to Britain and Avalon. If the Green Knight or lord-on-high Dane Whitman wanted us fighting Martians, they'd have done something about all this. But they haven't -- and that makes me think they're pleased as can be that we're staying out of the whole affair."

"If that were true, wouldn't they have prevented Shevaun and Breeze from staying on the other side?" Jackie countered. "Now stop your rubbish and pay attention. I think I've found what we're looking for."

Union Jack started to move towards his wife, who had knelt to scrape away some dirt outside the church entrance. Elaborately carved demons adorned the door's frame, seeming to stare down at Spitfire with hellish hatred.

Joey had taken only a few steps in her direction when he heard something move behind him. He froze, reaching up to drop his mask back into place. It was a small thing -- being masked -- but it was important. Without it, he was a dock worker's son, an artist never quite good enough to reach his dreams. With the mask in place, however, he was Union Jack. He was part of a legacy. "Jackie. We're not alone."

Spitfire shook her head, continuing to dig in the dirt with her fingers. She was slowly exposing a metal disc of some kind, one that was attached to the earth with a powerful binding spell. It glowed fiercely when the moonlight touched its surface, the image of a snarling demon seeming to hiss in pain. "Betsy was right -- the sites are going to be protected, then. You want me to help?"

Union Jack watched as three wolves crept into view, their fangs bared. Their eyes glowed a hot yellow. "Nah. Been awhile since I've rough housed with a doggy. You keep doing what you're doing." Joey withdrew a dagger from his belt, brandishing a weapon in each hand. "Come on, mates... let's get this over with."

The wolves rushed forward as one, but split so that they could attack from three sides. Joey raked the air with gunfire, his bullets riddling the body of one of the wolves, before whipping to his left and throwing the dagger. It plunged deep in the neck of another wolf, who tumbled to the ground as spurts of blood washed over his fur. The third wolf reached Union Jack, however, burying its teeth in his throwing arm and wrestling him to the ground.

Joey could smell the beast's fetid breath as they grappled in the dirt. The blood moon hung heavy in the sky, but Joey's vision was tunneled so that only the wolf could be seen. He bashed the side of the wolf's head with his free hand again and again, cursing like a sailor all the while. One particularly violent blow made the wolf loosen its grip and Joey took the opportunity to grip its skull with both hands. He gave a mighty twist, snapping its neck like dried kindling.

Union Jack threw the carcess off himself and rolled over onto his hands and knees. He was breathing heavily when he said "Got a problem, Jackie dear."

Spitfire was standing now in a large hole, dug at superspeed. She held a mud-encrusted golden disc in her hands. "Oh, darling... What now?" she asked, concern in her every word.

"Poor bastards. They've got collars on. They must be the neighbor's prize puppies."

"You're an idiot, Joseph Chapman. A right idiot." She laughed as she said this. Moving over to help him up, she examined his wounds. "Not going to start howling at the moon in a month or two, are you?"

"Sure -- Can't you?" he asked, grinning. "So, we got our deal, then? Barrier's going to fall and all that?"

"Betsy says that Blackheart and Zarathos planted these things at each of their sites. Some sort of focus for the souls they were stealing. Thing feels awful in my hands."

"Then let's get back to Lyonesse and throw it in a bin somewhere. Besides, I'm ready to go check on our little one."

"Little Joey's going to be fine, as usual." Spitfire smiled at him, her earlier annoyance fading. "He has your cheeks, you know." She reached out and squeezed his bottom.

"Perverted old woman, aren't you?" he replied, walking back towards the waiting aircraft. The Pendragons' shuttles were state of the art and a dream to pilot, but it wasn't that prospect that warmed Joey's heart. It was seeing Jackie so happy again. She had really hated her tenure as leader -- and he'd been none too pleased with it, either.

Captain Britain listened to the Prime Minister with a stoic expression on her face. She was alone with him in his private office, while the rest of the team handled a variety of duties. The meeting with the PM had not gone well, however. "You're saying you don't want us to remove the Barrier?"

Harrison Halpin took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. It was far too late in the evening to be holding a meeting of this sort, but the stakes were so high that he felt it necessary. "I'm just not sure we're prepared for a war. We've been building up our armaments ever since you first told us of the ongoing invasion, but I'm not certain--"

"We could turn the tide. Imagine: the world outside the Barrier's been fighting tooth and nail for their very survival. Then we enter, fresh and ready to fight! The Martians wouldn't stand a chance. But if we wait... then we might be trapped behind the Barrier forever, for our own safety. Because if they conquer the rest of the Earth, they're going to be waiting for us."

"I understand that," Halpin stated. "But it doesn't change the fact that we're in a mess ourselves. Britain's been damn lucky so far, but other nations in Europe are near collapse. And our metahuman population is booming if you count all the new magic-users, but I'd hardly list our new Crusaders as anything more than amateurs. You Pendragons are pretty much our only reliable force."

"I appreciate that, but it's not true. There are plenty of other heroes out there, operating on their own." Her eyes flicked over a number of papers lying on Halpin's desk. There had been appearances and reports of a fairly large-scale group operating out of Muir Island*... and she'd heard tales of a group of youths who were fighting crime, as well**. "Regardless, we have to do this."

"Can't you at least let me bring this before Parliament? The people have a right to decide if they want to go to war or not."

"I can't believe we're even discussing this!" Betsy exclaimed. "If we turn a blind eye to the welfare of those on the outside, we're doing a disservice to humanity."

Halpin raised a hand to try and calm her. "Please. I sympathize but I hope you can see where I'm coming from. All I'm asking is give us some advance warning on this."

"That's what I'm doing, Mr. Prime Minister. Look, retrieving the Soul Discs is only the first step in what we're going to need to do. It's going to be a lot of hard work before the Barrier comes down -- but it is coming down, so prepare people."

Halpin sat back and watched as she strode from the room. Betsy Braddock had a way of acting like she was queen of the world, but the PM didn't hold that against her. It was that way with some people, he knew... and it was part of her appeal in some ways. But as he steepled his fingers together and leaned back in his chair, he wondered how she would feel when people began dying at the hands of these aliens.

Halpin spun his chair about, frightened by a rumbling voice that seemed to fill the room. A cloud of spreading blackness greeted him, washing over him and erasing all sight. He felt cold and numb. "Who are you?"

Halpin felt his jaw drop when Clive Winthrop emerged from the shadows, dressed in a finely tailored suit. The man had swept through British politics a few years before, eventually riding a conservative wave into the office of the PM. He had later been revealed as the mastermind behind the Black Mass Barrier... a demon hiding in the form of man. Blackheart. "I'll call for help," Halpin stammered. "Captain Britain--"

"Is not going to help you." Blackheart leaned forward and his flesh seemed to melt away, falling away in long strips. What lay beneath was dark and fibrous. "There's a war coming. The final one in this little drama. One last gambit before I either throw up my hands in defeat or walk away with all the rewards. The question is: which side do you want to be on?"

"I don't understand," Halpin whispered, trying to avoid looking in Blackheart's eyes. They seemed empty at first glance, glowing a hot yellow, but there were things lurking in there that chilled the man to his core.

"I can make sure your daughter is safe. I'll even protect her husband and unborn child, if that's what you want. But in return, I'm going to ask you to do a few things for me."

Halpin felt a whimper rise up in his throat. He felt humiliated to be quaking so... but Blackheart was a demon, born of Hell... and Halpin was, in the end, nothing more than a man. "What do you want?"

"The Soul Disk reeks of evil." The Ghost Rider held up the golden medallion, his flaming visage seeming to darken as he stared at it. "We must be careful of bringing them all together. It might unleash a greater darkness."

Nocturne nodded, barely listening. He was growing used to Ghost Rider's odd manner of speech and proclivity for dire warnings, but it got old fast. He nudged a fallen demon with a foot. "You may be right. Why would Blackheart still have creatures protecting them if they weren't dangerous?"

"It could be a ruse," Ghost Rider continued. "Designed to lure us into a false belief that he does not want us to possess them."

Nocturne looked over at his teammate. Standing here in the middle of the night with the Spirit of Vengeance was a bizarre experience and he wondered how his idol, the pulp hero Night Raven, would have handled it. The thought made him smile. "We'll deal with that if we have to. Let's head back home."

As the heroes moved towards Ghost Rider's waiting motorcycle, the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Nocturne managed to catch himself before losing his balance, but only barely. The Spirit of Vengeance seemed to handle himself better, swaying only slightly.

A woman appeared before them, her beauty an awful thing to behold. She was scarlet in color, like her father, and wore a long cloak that matched his. She was Mephista, daughter of Mephisto and sister to Blackheart.

Ghost Rider stepped in front of Nocturne, Hellfire flaring around his right hand. "What do you want here, daughter of Hell? You seek to claim this medallion for your brother?"

"He is no friend of mine, not these days," she purred. Fire danced at her feet and Nocturne caught glimpses of bare flesh beneath her cloak. Her supple form was enticing, even as it was revolting. "I helped free the two of you from my father's realm, Noble*. Not that you remember, of course... and I have come now with more aid."

"What do you hope to gain from this?" Ghost Rider demanded. Behind him, Nocturne was watching her closely, hoping to use the Looking Glass in his helmet's lenses to predict her next move.

"You amuse me," she replied, the honesty in her voice unmistakable. "And I despise my brother. He vies for my father's favor all too often. He is now walking loose in London, plotting anew. Be wary of him."

Mephista laughed loudly. "Such nasty things you say to me, Noble. Here -- useful information for you at last, then. Your girl is in danger." The daughter of Hell waved her hands in the air, conjuring images of Stacy Dolan and the man called Blackout. The pseudo-vampire was carrying the girl in his arms, fresh blood welled up on her neck. "He means to hold her hostage, to draw you to him. In a club called Slimelight you will find him, and your girl, as well."

"No! Her blood must not be spilled!" Ghost Rider fairly shook with rage and he whirled on Nocturne when the other man touched his shoulder.

"Whoa! Calm down, Noble! You're part of a team now... We'll help you get your girl back. But you can't rush off on your own, okay?"

Ghost Rider nodded slowly. "You are right. There is strength in numbers. Thank you, Mephista. Your aid is appreciated." He turned back to face her, but she was gone, leaving only a smoldering patch of grass behind.

Lorna Dane yawned, walking down the hallway towards her bedroom. She'd been up far too late tonight, but she'd wanted to finish off a paper she was doing for a geophysics journal. It was an interesting subject and her deadline was looming -- the combination had led to many sleepless nights as of late.

As she passed Suzi Endo's bedroom, she heard whispering... and the distinct sound of a man's voice. Lorna smiled. She'd heard that Suzi had found a lover during the six month period when the Pendragons were disbanded -- and it sounded very positive. Maybe she'll be less of a bitch in the lab, she thought to herself. I wonder what he's like....

Suzi nuzzled up against him, enjoying the scent of his skin. "You're marvelous."

"Thank you," he replied, kissing her forehead. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting and she reached up to tug playfully at his beard. "Any problems with the armor interface?"

"None. Those modifications you helped me with have made all the difference in the world."

"You shouldn't be so modest. You're genetics work is incredible... and the nanites you've invented are going to revolutionize the entire world. I feel better than I have in ages. I only wish I hadn't put it off as long as I did. I was frightened, I suppo--

"Let's talk about that in the morning," he whispered, pulling her closer. "We spend too much time on work as it is."

Nathaniel Essex smiled at her words, for they were true enough. The simple pleasures should be savored, after all.

This issue was a lot of fun -- in fact, I've enjoyed writing the last two issues more than any Pendragons I've written in... ages, really. I hope the enjoyment is coming through on the written page. The plot of this storyline is a mix of things I've been planning and something that was suggested on the Pendragons mailing list. I've been meaning to do some major stuff with Blackheart again and several people had mentioned wanting to see Mr. Sinister pop up here... so we have this little Sinister/Blackheart war. Which side the Pendragons end up on should be quite interesting, I think.

In the meantime, check out Young Pendragons # 2 which guest-stars some of our characters. There you'll see Cybermancer's search for the missing Gawain (mentioned last issue) pay off.