THEN

Morgan sat in one of the many nooks hidden in the sprawling Ancient Tomes¹ bookstore. The place had become a gathering place for young mystics since the rise of the Barrier, offering an eclectic array of books and some of the best magic-influenced coffee in all of Britain. Morgan didn't care for the latter, but the former kept drawing her back again and again. 

She flipped through the pages of a large leather-bound book, careful not to break the fragile binding. It dated back to the 14th century, telling of a series of complicated rituals which could bring about the return of Elder Gods. Not nearly as accurate (or powerful) as the famed Darkhold, but it was about as good as you could expect in a used books store.

"Hi there."

Morgan ignored the stranger, though she knew from the voice and the sweet perfume that it was a woman. She also knew -- though she was less sure how -- that the woman was a powerful magic user. 

A blonde girl sat down in the chair across from her. She wore jeans and a purple tank top, her face full of almost casual beauty. She looked as different from Morgan as day is to night.

Morgan, for her part, wore military-style boots, tattered hose, a short black skirt and a blouse with an image of Morrissey on the front. 

The blonde smiled and cleared her throat before speaking again. "I said hello."

Morgan peered over the top of her book. "Bugger off."

"No thank you," the girl replied, laughing. Something in her manner tweaked Morgan's nerves. She was so pretty and so confident... Morgan pictured herself jabbing the pretty little thing with a stick. "My name's Jennifer Kale²."

"That's nice."

"I know this might sound strange, but I sensed you when I came into the shop. You have a very unique aura."

"Are you trying to pick me up?" Morgan asked, turning another page.

Jennifer looked shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered with a grin. "Noooo. You're a little young for me, thanks."

Morgan lowered the book, pursing her lips as she did so. "Then why are you bothering me?"

"Because your aura seems familiar." Jennifer leaned forward, waving her fingers through the air. A semi-transparent image began to appear around Morgan, one in the form of an older woman with raven-black hair and a dark cast to her features....

Morgan swiped through the air, dispelling the image. "Stop it!" she yelled, her voice carrying in the quiet bookshop. The owner of the store, an Indian man named Bansi, stepped from around the register, looking concerned. 

Jennifer stood up quickly as Morgan threw down her book and started to leave. "Wait! I just want to know what your connection to Morgan is--!"

Morgan whirled about, her eyes flashing with power. "Go to hell."

Jennifer staggered as unseen forces buffeted her about. It felt like she was in the middle of a searing sandstorm, with grit and rock tearing at her clothes and skin. She was blinded momentarily, but she could hear the book store's natural sounds fading, to be replaced by something far worse: the wailing of the damned.

Jennifer opened her eyes, finding herself floating on a red-tinted rock of some kind. Down below, the rivers of Hell ran red and hot, the captured souls of the damned washing down its streams and tributaries. Demons of all kinds pushed them along from the shores, jabbing at them with poles and pitchforks, ushering them along to their particular realm of the underworld.

Closing her eyes again, Jennifer called upon the forces of Gaea³ and whispered words of ancient power. The transition was smoother this time, as Jennifer called upon the forces of White Magic... unlike the slip of a girl who had so easily sent her away. That had been foul, Bane-tainted magic.

Jennifer sighed as she returned to the bookstore. The girl was gone, leaving behind only a group of concerned and frightened bookstore patrons.

"Damn," she whispered. "You blew that one, Kale...."

Morgan sat with her back against the brick exterior of a nearby building, tears streaming down her face. She hated this, hated how the power would sometimes well up within her and explode forth. She could have killed that woman, for all she knew... "What am I?" she whispered to herself, staring down into a standing puddle of rain. 

It was a question that had plagued her for some time, ever since she'd woken up naked the English countryside. No one knew her, no one claimed her... she'd had to use this power of his to steal to survive. And there were memories that she didn't understand -- of people and places that couldn't be real. Mordred. Arthur. Jessica Drew⁴. Who were they? Why were they in her head?

A footstep made her jump. There, reflected in the pool, was a man of iron and steel. He glinted in the dim lighting, looking like some knight come to rescue her. She looked up at him, her mouth hanging open. "What are you?" she asked, trying to project a facade of strength. That was always important to her for some reason, to appear in control.

The metal man's features did not change -- they could not, for they were sculpted and not flesh -- but his voice was one of concern and it melted away Morgan's fears. "I am Gawain, milady. And I have to come to offer you a place amongst heroes."

NOW

"I'll be careful, Moira. I promise."

"It's just... you've been hurt before, Rahne. I worry about you."

Rahne Sinclair pulled her knees up against her chest, sinking into the chair as she did so. Her guardian and friend, Moira McTaggert, stared at her from a purple-tinted mirror. It glowed with mystic energy and was one of many that had begun popping up all over London. Part of a rapidly spreading magical "Internet," the mirrors allowed for instantaneous communication across vast distances. "I know... and I appreciate it. But it's not like he's asked me out or anything. He's never going to, either, not with that little tramp about."

"Rahne!" Moira said, looking both shocked and amused. "There's no need for all that. And if you want to go out with him, turn the tables and ask him."

"No! I couldn't. I'd be too embarrassed."

Moira smiled at the girl with great fondness. When she'd learned of Rahne's interest in joining a new group, she'd initially resisted the idea. But it was important for Rahne to make some new friends, especially ones her own age. As difficult as this crush on Cam McClellan was bound to be, these were the things that helped girls become women. Besides, with Moira working with the government now, she had little time to watch over Rahne -- and neither of them had a place at Muir Island at the moment⁵. "It's the 21st century, Rahne. Girls are allowed to be forward now."

Rahne chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I'll think on it. I promise."

"Okay. Good night, Rahne."

After the monitor went black, Rahne stood up slowly and stretched. This building belonged to Gawain, but it had quickly become home for both Morgan and Rahne. Cam was still living with his mum and her boyfriend Wynter⁶, but he'd been saying he might come to live here. The thought made Rahne's heart race. If he did, then she could impress him somehow...

Smiling to herself, she slid under the covers of her bed. This was going to all work out. She could feel it.

THEN

They called themselves the Rainbow Brigade⁷, but that wasn't the end of their stupidity. They'd compounded their decision to wear battle armor and become supervillains by each painting themselves in a different color and giving themselves names like "Silver Marauder," "Emerald Destroyer, "Azure Stinger" and "Crimson Giant."

Wolfsbane dodged their energy blasts, a small part of her feeling sorry for them. What sort of sorry lives could have led them to this, she wondered. In her bestial state, she was far too agile for them to hit, though they collectively had enough power to destroy a city block. The one called the Crimson Giant, ten feet tall in his piloted armor, was particularly dangerous, rampaging about like a madman.

"Give yourselves up, please!" she shouted at them. They each had sacks of money attached to their belts, the remains of a bank heist that had attracted Rahne's attention while she was out shopping. Honestly, she mused, A bank robbery? Who does that anymore? "I promise I'll speak on your behalf and ask them to go lightly on you!"

"Are you crazy, you little git?" the Emerald Destroyer bellow. His amplified voice made him sound a bit like James Earl Jones, Rahne thought. "We've fought the Hulk and lived to tell about it! You think we're afraid of you?"

"No reason to be afraid of a wee little girl," Wolfsbane agreed. She jumped up onto the shoulders of the Crimson Giant, who spewed forth a number of curses. "But you lot don't seem to understand team work."

Just as the Crimson Giant started to look up, the Azure Stinger flew by and shouted "I'll get the minx! Duck, Giant!"

Wolfsbane leaped into the air, doing a back flip that left her crouching nearby. The Giant, thrown off-balance by her maneuver, staggered straight into the path of Stinger's energy beam. The attack left the behemoth staggering about in pain. 

"Nice move, bitch," the Destroyer whispered, lining her up in his sights. "But you're still outnumbered and outmatched."

"Then maybe it's time to even the odds," someone said. The words were punctuated by a burst of mystic flame that engulfed the Emerald Destroyer and left him twitching on the ground.

Wolfsbane looked upwards, but her vision was partially obscured by the sun. The new arrival stood partially silhouetted in the sunlight, his red and white armor gleaming. "Who?"

"Call me Albion," he'd replied -- and she knew immediately that he was around her age. And cute. Somehow, she was sure of that.

He'd flown down into the middle of combat, seemingly full of poise and confidence. Cam McClellan. She remembered Moira talking about him once, explaining why he hadn't been part of the Pendragons team who had helped them in their confrontation with the High Evolutionary⁸. She'd heard that he'd been corrupted by the Bane, but that he'd later found the strength to overcome it⁹. 

Rahne broke free of her reverie, leaping forward with claws extended. She charged into Stinger's back, knocking the team's flyer to the ground. She heard Albion lashing out with his powers behind her, making short work of the armored villains. Wolfsbane grabbed hold of Stinger's helmet, repeatedly smashing it to the street until there was no more resistance from her foe.

Rising, Wolfsbane panted and turned to face her new ally. He was watching her, looking mysterious behind his own visored helmet. 

"Wolfsbane, right?"

"Rahne."

"What?"

"That's my real name. Rahne Sinclair. And I know your name, too. Cam."

He laughed behind his helmet. "That's right. We did pretty good, I'd say."

"You going to reform the Pendragons¹⁰?" she asked. 

"No... Not me. I wasn't even on the team when it disbanded. It's a shame, though. They did a lot of good."

"It would be a pity to let a dream like that die." Both of them turned to see another figure landing nearby. He was red and silver, with something in his sculpted features that looked vaguely familiar to Cam. 

"Are you that new Iron Man I've heard about¹¹?" Albion asked.

"No. I am someone from your past, Cam McClellan. And I have come to offer you both an opportunity to revive a legacy that has been lost. Aid me in restoring the Pendragons."

"Who are you?" Cam asked, feeling frustrated that anyone would have the audacity to step forward and try to usurp the Pendragons name. 

"I am Gawain."

NOW

Morgan sat outside the team's makeshift headquarters, staring up into the stars. The pinkish moon hung fat and bloated up above, as it had almost every night since the Barrier had risen. She could hear chanting off in the distance and knew that some group or another was conducting rituals by moonlight. While traditional church attendance fell -- and sparked great concern amongst the old guard in Rome -- the old religions were coming back in great force. 

Morgan thought it was all a bit of rot, but she didn't waste much time in thinking about it. She cast a glance back at their building, seeing Gawain's silhouette in his laboratory window. He was a mysterious one, with all the charm and grace of a Dell computer... but Cam claimed he'd once been a warm and open being. What had changed him, she wondered. 

"Aren't you cold?" Cam asked, stepping towards her. She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"I thought I was alone."

"I just stepped out for a bit, that's all." He wrapped his coat tighter about himself. "I brought my things over. My mom's not happy about me moving out, but that's life."

"You're old enough that you should be on your own," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Can't be a mama's boy forever."

"I love my mother and I'm not ashamed to have lived with her." 

Morgan glanced at him, seeing the earnestness in his face. She also saw the haunted look in his eyes and felt a kinship that pretty little Rahne could never share. "You're not sleeping again, are you?"

"I've been having nightmares, yeah." He came and sat down beside her. "You?"

"My dreams are full of pink bunnies and unicorns."

"Go on. Be honest."

Morgan smirked at him and shrugged. "Same as always. Not a big deal."

"You think you're Morgan Le Fey? Like Gawain does?"

"He thinks he's Morgan Le Fey?" she asked, with mock surprise on her face.

"You never stop, do you?" he laughed. "He thinks you're her, reborn or something."

"A better question is: Who is Gawain? The old friend you think he is? Or something else entirely?"

"I do wonder what he's up to in his lab."

"Go spy on him."

"No! If we can't trust each other, who can we trust?"

"The Queen?"

Cam sighed. "You're annoying."

"But cute."

Cam looked at her. He knew that Rahne liked him... and he liked her, kind of. But he would have been lying if he denied Morgan's more sexual kind of attraction for him. He saw her lean in towards him and knew that if he wanted, they would kiss. And who knew what that could lead to?

He swallowed hard, rising to his feet. "I better go unpack," he said shakily. "You want to help?"

Morgan looked away, shaking her head. "You go ahead."

Cam walked away, wondering why he'd avoided kissing her. It would have nice, he knew... but he also remembered the dark days when the Bane had controlled him. Sex had seemed a difficult subject for him ever since. Maybe one day, he thought. I just hope she'll still want to.

"Let me go," the man whispered. His skin was cracked and bloodied, but it was his voice that would have chilled the hearts of any who saw him. It was full of raw pain and emotion.

Gawain stepped away from the window, turning his full attention back to the green-garbed man lying on the examining table. Gawain had used his auditory sensors to listen in on Cam and Morgan's conversation, filing it away for later use. "You must tell me. What became of Ravonna?"

"I don' t know. After that witch used her wish to restart the universe, I woke up in Limbo. I was floating like this... in pain. I don't know where she went. Or where our other partner went... I can't even remember his name!"

Gawain stepped forward and pushed a small block of leather between the man's teeth. "I will ask you again, with encouragement for you to tell the truth. I must know if she continues to threaten this reality." Seeing the question in the man's eyes, Gawain said "The leather will help silence you and prevent you from biting through your tongue."

Gawain then placed his hand on the man's chest... and unleashed a powerful burst of electricity.

On the table, Mordred the Evil¹² began to buck and twist, his mind exploding in agony....

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: The Young Pendragons have their first meeting with their mentors... and things don't go exactly as planned! "Generation Gap" continues!

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This series is meant to tie together many disparate elements of the Pendragons Universe. As such, I'll be using footnotes to expand upon the stories. Here goes:

You can reach me at aric_dacia@yahoo.com

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