As far as the world was concerned, Tara Grimshaw was dead. It was the price she paid for still being alive, no matter how many times she might have wished she wasn't. 

The British government didn't have a death penalty, but they didn't take kindly to teenagers who destroy their school, killing over two hundred of their fellow pupils and the majority of the teaching staff, so she had been let disappear. As far as the world was concerned, she was just one of the casualties of a day that was now a national day of mourning. Only a very small number of people so highly ranked that they no longer officially existed knew otherwise. 

Tara had thought the advent of her menstrual cycle and ten years of acne would be the toughest things to worry about when she hit puberty. No one told her that mutations could be such a bitch… 

“Burning Fast”

By

Gary Halpin 

Vacuum-packed food tasted as good as it sounded. 

Deep within the bowels of a government base, Tara opened the shrink-wrapped portion of tasteless food used by NASA to sustain their people in space, and tried to pretend that it tasted as good as the sausage and mash dinner her mother used to make for her every Thursday night. It never worked. The pretty brunette woman couldn't help but wish that the food that had sustained her for the last ten years even tasted unpleasant. At least then it would provoke some feeling within her, as opposed to the utter blandness that she faced day in day out and would probably have to endure for the next fifty years. She remembered that her mother had never been an adventurous cook at home. She cooked the same foods on specific nights of the week without fail, only deviating from the menu for special occasions like Christmas and birthdays. Tara never thought she would ever be willing to give her right arm to be sitting down for the Tuesday night Irish casserole stew she had so detested, which involved her mother melting carrots, potatoes, mushrooms and parsnips into a mushy soup that was fifty percent Bisto gravy. The thoughts of tasting anything at all, even something she hated as much as that, would be like manna from heaven after the same food every day for ten years. 

She wondered where her mother was now. Was she in the same council estate that Tara had grown up in, or had she moved on after being told that Tara had died? Tara had finally accepted she would probably never know. The only small mercy was that her mother would never know that it was Tara who had killed all those people. Her mother never knowing what she had done was the only small mercy she could some times take comfort from. 

She finished the protein bar, and placed the wrapper back inside the food hatch that it had been delivered in. Within seconds, she could hear the familiar whoosh sound as it was flushed out of her containment cell.  

Tara had spent the previous decade in a sterile room five metres by twelve metres long, in a faculty that did not officially exist. She had never stood trial for her actions, or been found officially guilty, but she did not have any doubt whatsoever of her fate. She had been found guilty beyond any possibility of doubt and sentenced to life imprisonment while the world was told that she was as dead as her victims. 

They told her it was for her own protection as well as for every one else's, although they did not bother telling her much at all any more. When she had first been brought here, those scientists with enough clearance to know she existed were practically delirious with excitement at the prospect of examining and analysing her, supposedly so “she could be released back into the community”.. They had been incapable of pretending she was not a test subject even when they were trying to be reassuring. As the years had passed, as tests after tests had failed to produce any beneficial results, and after that last doctor had suffered first-degree burns on ninety-five percent of his body, they had mostly left her alone. And in truth, there was a part of her that was glad. She had not liked the man, but she could still hear his screams in her dreams some nights, on the rare occasions she did not dream of that afternoon in her school. 

“Well, that didn't last long. You should have said you were that hungry. I'd have sent you in a fillet steak with all the trimmings.” 

Tara shuddered as she heard the familiar voice of Mark Burke come through the intercom. He must have just started his shift. Most of her jailers were content not to communicate with her. If occasionally they wanted to run another test then they gave her the most basic instructions required in order to have her comply with the equipment that appeared through a sliding panel on one of the walls. Burke was different. He taunted her and teased her. She had never seen him in the flesh, but his voice filled her sterile climate-controlled prison without warning. She presumed he only dared when the rest of the skeleton staff in his unit were not present, but for all she knew they simply did not care enough to stop him. 

“What's the matter, Tara?” he continued, “You too overfed to even talk to me now?” 

Tara tried to ignore him, and lay down on the metal plank that had been her bed for the previous ten years. She knew he would just keep talking to her until he got a reaction, but it was the only protest she could make until he wore her down like he always did. He took some sick pleasure at her inability to leave the room she was confined to, and in reminding her that she deserved to be there at every opportunity. 

“I thought we were great friends… You're starting to hurt my feelings now. And to think I bought you a present. I stopped at a newsagents on my way here. How many years has it been since you've read a magazine?” 

Tara felt her heart began to race. Sometimes, in order to stop her going crazy, the scientists showed television programmes on a monitor in the room. She had no illusions that they were doing it to be kind. They were only doing it to stop her going insane from solitary confinement, because she would be less useful to them if she could not follow their instructions willingly. But an actual magazine… Nothing other than her 'food' had been brought into her cage since she had been brought here. 

Despite herself, she could feel herself getting excited, and she cursed herself. Her

every heartbeat and bead of sweat had been recorded and analysed for a decade. Burke knew he had got a reaction from her before she even did. 

“Well then, looks like that got your heart racing,” he told her. “I guess even a child killer like you wants to read Vogue. I should have guessed that from your obvious love of fashion.” 

Tara bit her lip. She had been wearing identical green jumpsuits every day since she arrived. She had no idea what they were made from, but they were still uncomfortable as hell. When she was thirteen, she had spent hours flicking through magazines with Carol, her best friend, both day dreaming about the day they would both leave Leeds and be glamorous career women in London. They were going to walk down Bond Street and every one would stop and look at how amazing they looked. The thirteen year old girl she had been would have cried her eyes out at the knowledge of how she was going to turn out… at least until someone told her that Carol would die in the same fire. Then she would realise that there were far more serious things to cry about, just like the woman Tara had become had realised. 

Tara sighed. She had enough of this. He was just going to go on and on now that he had seen her reaction. “What do you want?” 

“Now that's more like it!” Burke told her. Tara felt sick as she heard the excitement in his voice. She had never hated any one more in her entire life. 

“Just to be nice to me, Baby Killer. That's not that much to ask is it?” 

Tara said nothing. She was a baby killer. One of the teachers in her school had been five months pregnant. Ms. Farrell, who had kept encouraging her when she had trouble with her math homework. Tara had thanked her by taking away both her life and the life of her unborn child. She deserved whatever punishment Burke gave her. 

Burke laughed at her. “I'm feeling generous, Tara. Have this one on me.” 

He left the microphone on, and Tara could hear him walk around whatever office or building he monitored her from. For all she knew, he could have been located three kilometres away. Then she heard the noise. Something was being carried through the shoot her food was transported down. She realised then why Burke was giving her the magazine. After a minute, the decontamination was complete and the remains of a magazine were deposited into the room, a mushy, unreadable pulp.

She simply looked at the remains, amazed at herself for expecting anything else even for a moment. 

Tara heard Burke's laughter echoing through the room. He sounded like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. She tried not to give him the satisfaction of reacting, and was about to return to her bunk without a word when his laughter was replaced by a short scream, and then silence. 

She waited for a moment, wondering if it was another trick. She had fallen for them before. Something told her that it was not though. That scream was not faked. She had heard enough of them that horrible day to know what a genuine cry of terror and pain sounded like. Something unexpected had just happened. Something unexpected that was outside of Burke's control. 

Suddenly the monitor that occasionally showed her mind-numbing comedy shows came to life, and she knew instinctively that was she was seeing was real, no matter how impossible it seemed. She was staring at what looked like a pumpkin covered in flames, attached to a human body. And it was staring straight at her. 

“So who the hell are you meant to be?” the pumpkin asked with a female voice. 

Tara stared at it in shock. Behind it, she could see Burke. He was collapsed against a wall, unconscious or worse. He looked just like she expected him to. He was short, over-weight, greasy and had thinning hair. The only thing she had not expected was the bloodstain on his chest. 

“Hello?” the Pumpkin asked again. “Do I look like I have all day? Who are you? If I don't get a reply in five seconds, I'm going to assume you're Helen Keller and leave you on your own.” 

“Tara,” Tara heard herself replying. “My name is Tara.” 

“Progress at last! So what's your story? I'm assuming from the fact you live in a cage that you're not here of your own free will either.” 

Tara shook her head. “I… The government sent me here…” 

The Pumpkin laughed loudly. “Oh please. You honestly don't think the government has anything to do with this, do you? Blair was bad, but some how experiments on magic users and mutants might just have been a little tricky to explain to the old electorate if it had ever got out. They tried to use that same crock of bull on me when the Pendragons handed me over to the authorities, but if money wasn't exchanged to take us away from the cops and bring us to whoever owns this place, then my name isn't Jack O'Lantern. So what can you do? I presume old pervert here hasn't been keeping you in a cage because he thought you were a babe, although I wouldn't put it past him judging by some of the stains on his desk.” 

Tara struggled to take in what the Pumpkin - Jack O'Lantern - was saying to her. Not the government… But she had complied with them all these years. They told her that she was here because of what she had done. They had held her since she was fourteen years old. She had been here for almost half her life without struggling because she thought she was following the law… 

“Hello again?” Lantern told her exasperated. “Time not exactly in bountiful supply here! Work with me! What… do… you… do?” 

“Fire,” Tara answered reluctantly. “I turn into fire.” 

“Excellent. Then you might be useful. Out you get.” 

“No!” Tara cried out, but it was too late. She felt the rush of normal air into the room as a panel that Tara had not even known existed slid up one wall into the ceiling. She panicked as uncontrolled and unmeasured oxygen flushed into the once sterile room, and she felt a feeling she dreaded return. Her skin began to burn, and before she could do anything to prevent it, she was covered in red flames. Within seconds, she was literally on fire, like a true Human Torch. 

“Now that's impressive,” Lantern told her as she stepped through the portal and beckoned Tara to join her. “I think we can definitely do business together.” 

“What have you done?” Tara cried, watching the red flames dance along her arm. She was not in pain yet, but it would come. It always did. 

“I set you free. I'm sure I'll find a way for you to repay me. I think I can find plenty of uses for someone with your powers in my line of work, and you owe me now. Let me just take care of some unfinished business here and then we can both get out of here and discuss the details.” 

Tara stopped looking at herself when she heard Burke groan. He was looking at her with desperation in his eyes, and she soon realised why. Lantern had pulled out a knife, and was heading in his direction. 

“What are you doing?” Tara asked. “You can't…” 

“Oh yes I can,” Lantern told her, lifting Burke's head up so she could slice open his throat. “I've been here for over four weeks while they prodded and poked me like a lab rat. I might have escaped, but I want to leave these jokers with a little reminder of what to expect if they ever come near me again.” 

“No!” Tara cried out, and bolts of flame danced furiously out of her hands and melted the knife into Lantern's hands. Tara concentrated, and a fist of fire soon held Lantern firmly under control. “No one else dies. I don't want any more blood on my hands! No one else dies!” 

Lantern squirmed within the grasp of Tara's flames. Her hand was in agony from where she had been holding the knife, but the rest of her body was protected thanks to the body armour she was holding. “I… underestimated you, girl,” Lantern told her, as she whispered the spells she had used to escape her captivity. A cloud of smoke appeared, and she used it to teleport far enough away to escape from Tara. Her parting words made it clear that she would return for her at some point though. “I won't do that next time. And there will be a next time. Jack O'Lantern always pays her debts.” 

Tara ignored her and stared at Burke. He looked at her with sheer terror. She might have saved him from Lantern, but he thought it was only to save him for herself. She stared at him with out any _expression as she felt the fire build up inside her, and then told him to run. He did not need to be told twice. Grasping his wound, he staggered out of the centre he had used to monitor her, and ran past the corpses Jack O'Lantern had left as though his life depended on it. He had studied Tara long enough to know that it did. 

Tara felt strangely at peace as she felt the fire grow within her. Everything around her was starting to melt as the fire grew beyond her ability to control now that she was no longer in the contained environment her captors had developed for her. It was the same thing that had happened to her when she was fourteen but this time she did not fight it. She had been lied to. She thought that she had been paying for her crimes but it was a joke. She had just been a lab rat, and she had endured enough. There was only one worthy punishment for what she had done. It was time to end it. 

“There was no crime,” a voice echoed in her head. “You have no redemption to pay.” 

Tara turned around, and knew then that she was insane. She was staring at a man consisting entirely of water, and he was smiling with her. “Welcome to Avalon.” 

Without her knowing it, she had been brought to a land that could not have been on Earth. It was too green, too tranquil. She looked around, and saw that she was standing beside a lake, and the man made of water was still standing beside her. “I am the Lord of the Lake. My friends used to call me Dane, when I still had them. You have no crime to pay for. You were a fourteen-year-old girl, kissing her boyfriend in the boiler room of her comprehensive school when you both should have been in class. You had no way of knowing that the powers that you inherited from your grand father would come to life at that moment. It was no one's fault that the boiler exploded when your flames grew and that an inferno engulfed your school, taking the lives of so many. It was a tragic accident, and you have suffered for it enough.” 

“It was my fault…” Tara whispered, afraid to believe the words that she had desperately someone would say to her in the previous ten years. 

“No, it was not, Tara. You must put it behind you now.” 

“But I…” Tara struggled to form words to try and capture all the thoughts that were raging through her head. “But the last ten years… All those people who died… And even if what you say is true - what happens to me now? I can't control my powers! I can't turn back to normal! I can't even eat! I'm a freak, who is going to hurt people again!” 

“You are a hero, Tara Grimshaw, just like the grandfather you never knew who helped conceive your father during the celebrations to mark the end of World War II in London. Your family thought he was just another drunken G.I., but he was the Invader known as Toro. Your abilities have been inherited from him. I can not give you the control to turn back to human. That will only come from within, if ever. But I can give you enough control for you to control the flames that will always burn. But worry not about the constraints that would cause you to die if you stayed in this form. Your gift is such that they do not apply when you surrender to the flames.” 

“Why…” Tara asked. She felt like crying, but the tears evaporated every time she tried. “Why are you doing this?” 

“You chose to save the life of one who tormented you when you could have simply stood back and let him pay for his crimes. I have chosen you to be the first Pendragon chosen under my power as the Lord of the Lake. Your life will be fraught with danger and menace, but the cause you will fight for will be just and true. Do you accept?” the former Dane Whitman asked, holding out his hand to her. 

Tara paused. It was too much to take in. She had spent so long torturing herself, and allowing herself to be tortured, because of what she had done. Now he was telling her it was not her fault. He had to be lying, but some how she knew he was not. And now what he was offering. It was terrifying but… 

She thought of all the people who had died in her school. She would never forgive herself for that, no matter what any one told her. But if there was a chance to earn some small bit of redemption… 

Slowly, Tara took his hand. Fire met water, and the woman once known as Tara Grimshaw was no more. The Lord of the Lake smiled, alone once more.  

The Pendragon now known as Toro had been sent to begin her destiny. 

---

Author's Note:

That was fun. A lot of people don't like the work of Chuck Austen and I can see a lot of the reasons why. A lot of his ideas simply are not executed as well as they could be, but a lot of those ideas have great potential. The new Invaders team he's created over in Avengers is a brilliant example of this. I love the line-up, and can see why Marvel are keen for another writer to use them as the core line-up of a new Invaders series. The character that is the most interesting to me is the one I expected to like the least - the female Human Torch. At the time of writing, nothing has been revealed about her other than her first name is Tara, but I think she's a fascinating character. She was literally being carried around under their plane in a container to stop her exploding into flames, released only when her powers were needed in battle. It's the perfect updating of the Jim Hammond Human Torch. I have no idea what origin the new Invaders author has in mind for her or how he plans to develop her, but I couldn't resist playing with the information that's currently available and writing a story about her. 

I have no idea if the new Toro will appear in the Pendragons universe again. You'll have to ask Barry Reese that, but I'm happy for her to be used elsewhere, by whatever writer wants her. She now has the power of the Pendragons inside her, but she is the first Pendragon to receive it directly from Dane Whitman instead of the Lady of the Lake. She's now a Champion of Avalon, but that does not mean her path will cross with that of the core Pendragons team. Personally, I hope she does show up somewhere, but I'll be watching as a reader if it does, not a writer. If she does run into the other Pendragons, I can't see Betsy being too happy to run into a Pendragon empowered by the man she hates so much. 

Oh, and if you're wondering why she's called Toro instead of the Human Torch… How long do you really think she's going to keep that name when she's appearing in an ongoing monthly alongside Jim Hammond, when that book is written by one of Jim Hammond's biggest fans? 

My point exactly. 

Hope you enjoyed my latest dabble in Barry's great Pendragons universe. As always, please let me know what you thought of the story, either through one of the mailing lists or directly at gary1@eircom.net