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Rapid eye movement; the painfully slow dull throbbing of a dream not yet in focus and the whispered words of forlorn lovers; sentiments destined never to be spoken. Magenta the Magician crossed the surface of the scorched world, her feet blistering and her forehead bright with beads of sweat. Somewhere amidst the landscape of the possible future was the last remaining remnant of a once proud magician, the body long since interred beneath the soil of the city and his spirit left to cling to the possibility of return whilst, all the while, yearning for release. Yet despite that yearning, the soul remained amongst the disquiet of the vast, universal human collective, called the astral plane by some, the collective unconscious by others. Magenta made no comment as she continued to pass beneath the blistering, white-hot sun. The shadows of decimated buildings and the gentle breeze that stirred the sand at her feet afforded little in the way of shelter. It was as if the burning light were in everything, shining through all matter and intensifying the temperature upon the sterile world. It didn’t have to be this way, Magenta reflected. The image she presented before her was not a definite reflection of the state of the collective. She could have imagined the winding streets and narrow alleyways of her adopted city; the warm air that rushed up from the tunnels of the Underground and the quiet birdsong of the green belt but, instead, she chose the image of desolation.
Her mentor had been adamant that the more comfortable the soul was within the realms of that labyrinthine mass of human dreams and hopes, the less likely it would be to return to the flesh. Many a magician of greater renown than her had fallen prey to the whims of the astral plane, their bodies left to decay and starve as the mind wondered endlessly forever amongst the alien topography of the collective. By assuring an image of destruction and despair, Magenta the Magician helped to maintain her resolve. In her experience, there were very few who would choose to linger at the end of the world. It had been almost two months since she had last crossed that haunted landscape, her brief conversation with the masqued Science Hero known as JumpMan now little more than a footnote in the recent adventures of the department to which she belonged. Whilst she still remembered the hero fondly, the advent of their current mission made it impossible to think fondly back upon the friendship she had forged within these self-same ruins. Ahead she caught sight of the spirit with whom she had come to speak, a tall figure somewhere over six feet in a wide brimmed straw hat and a floral dress pulled over flared jeans. Like Magenta, the other wore no shoes. The young girl came to a stop, coughing slightly so as to attract the other’s attention. The figure turned and, beneath the brim of the hat, Magenta caught sight of a kind face with a prominent nose and the pinch of wrinkles at the corner of the eyes. “Oh, hello dear,” the other cooed, her voice deep and her accent distinct, “I was wondering when you might show up.” Magenta smiled awkwardly, bowing her head in polite greeting and folding her hands together in front of her. “Hello, Ms. Swinger…” The curious other waved her formalities away with a large hand. “Please, darling, call me Lillian.” Magenta shuffled her feet uncomfortably amongst the waves of burning sand. “Ms. Lillian…ah, my employers asked me if I might come and speak with you…” she began. The other blinked large, hazel eyes at the younger girl. “And who would your employers be, darling?” “Ah, a cat…” Magenta answered. “I know lots of cats, darling,” Lillian Swinger smiled in return. “A cat named Hoodwink,” she continued, “and a gentleman named the Thin White Duke. We work for the British government.” Lillian Swinger nodded slowly. “Wow. Far out,” that deep, thoughtful voice remarked. “Ah, Ms. Lillian…” The other smiled again. “Please, darling, don’t call me Ms., that kind of thing’s not my bag you see.” Awkwardly, Magenta moved her weight from foot to foot, trying to save the skin on at least one foot from burning. “W-What should I call you?” the young girl questioned. Swinger shrugged in a casual fashion, her long hair moving slightly in the feeble breeze. “Just call me Lillian, darling. There’s no point in getting into gender specifics because, well, I’m both you see…” s/he smiled broadly and nodded at Magenta, “now please, darling, tell me what it is that I can help you with.” Magenta looked uncertainly at the other for a moment and then, at the insistence of the burning sand beneath her feet, she declared: “I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the Cirkus.” Lillian Swinger nodded slowly. “Yes,” s/he said with a vacuous smile, “I was wondering when someone might ask about that.” * * * download A Four Letter Word dvd The Story of Us divx Demolition Man dvdrip Shards of sunlight glinted upon the smooth, featureless armour of Fait Accompli as she rushed forwards, each footfall leaving a mark upon the stone beneath her. The whole of the area surrounding Finchley Road had been temporarily closed off, all the way from St. John’s Wood Underground at her back up to the Finchley Road station ahead. Between those stations was an enemy more monstrous than the creature they had fought several months previously in Victoria Park. Ahead of her, Flavius, his features concealed by his own red armour landed in the road between her, his feet carrying him forwards towards the hulking, seven foot beast that charged ever onwards, oblivious of their attempts to prevent it. They had received their first warning of the creature several days after JumpMan’s departure, though, according to the studious Hoodwink, the signs had been pointing towards the creature’s arrival for a lot longer than that. The nearest Intergalactic New Mages Corps outpost had forwarded an early warning report describing an inter-dimensional breech and the emergence of a monstrous alien species dubbed ‘the Hive’ by their operatives. Those first invaders had been successfully repelled but the Corps’ Science Heroes speculated that eventually, Earth would attract the attention of a potential alien invasion. This report was forwarded to the disparate governments of the planet and each nation was then entrusted with the development of its own defences against the species. In the case of Great Britain, those defences were, as in times past, the Kaiser Machines and the three Science Agents of Lundunaborg. It was fortunate then, that the first of this species had apparated on British soil, although, for the beast itself, Fait Accompli surmised the situation might soon be considered decidedly unfortunate. The alien turned its gigantic head towards them and, for the first time, Fait caught sight of the details of insect-like countenance. It was insidious, blacker than the foulest of primal fears, a ghastly nightmarish face forged from protruding bone and skin stretched out like cured leather. Beneath the plethora of demonic eyes, the narrow face housed several separate mouths; row upon row of teeth opening up like a kaleidoscope of predatory instincts. Hoodwink had identified the creature as apparently being named Cirkus and, in communication with Lundunaborg’s feline second-in-command, the creature had identified itself as the first of the Hive race to reach Earth. Both Fait Accompli and Flavius Furius Aquila were intent on making sure it was the last. * * * Night Crossing Magenta frowned. “You mean it’s atavistic in nature?” she questioned. Lillian mused the question over, making curious shapes with her mouth. “In a way,” she conceded after a while, “the Hive you see, aren’t real. They’re from something called the Fictionsphere.” The lines of Magenta’s frown deepened by degrees. “I’ve never heard of that,” she remarked, struggling to hold her impatience in check. There was something in the lazy, uninterested way in which the dead hermaphrodite conveyed information that caused the younger girl a great degree of annoyance. “I wouldn’t expect you to have, darling,” Lillian beamed up at her, “you see, we made it, that it is to say, myself and Magenta the Magician.” Magenta felt a chill run down her spine. She knew instinctively, by the fact that they had never met, that the Magenta of which Lillian Swinger spoke was not her but rather one of her two predecessors, yet there was still the discomfort of association. It was as if the vast landscape upon which she stood was attempting to offer her access to the memories and identities of those other magicians. She struggled to keep this from showing on her face. “The Hive originated in this Fictionsphere, yes?” she asked, hoping to encourage the other mage to share further details. Lillian bobbed hir head slowly forwards. “Yes, darling, that they did. The whole species are a sort of ‘worst case scenario’, an accumulation of all the dread and anxiety that built up after the events of 1943. Over the decades that followed that event, people became increasingly fearful of what may exist beyond the realm of our tiny world, out there, far out there, in the starry darkness.” Hir voice became dreamy once more and Magenta felt her agitation rising. “And all of this bad feeling fed into the Fictionsphere to make the Hive?” she prompted again. “Mmmhmm,” Lillian nodded, “that’s right, darling, all of humanity’s expectation of a terrible threat outside of our universe made that possibility come true.” Magenta sighed, tugging at her collar in the unbearable heat. “So why did you and…and…” she faltered, having immense trouble speaking the name, “why did you and the other magician make this Fictionsphere in the first place?” Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that old thing? That was just one of those things Science Heroes did back in the day, darling. We were grander in the old days, more theatrically inclined,” s/he smiled fondly at the memory, her hazel eyes glazing over slightly, “The Fictionsphere was going to be a place of dreaming, a place for all humanity to come together, to learn about their differences and come together in peace.” The young girl looked down at the other, struggling to keep the doubt from expressing itself upon her face. “So how did it go wrong?” she asked. Lillian’s brow creased in deep lines. “Another magician, a ghastly man named Oliver Twisted, interrupted the flow of dreams into the realm. He became a nexus of hate and rage and turned all our work against us. Regretfully, we were forced to abandon our dream and, as a fitting fate, we sealed away Oliver Twisted within the confines of the Fictionsphere. But there was a terrible price to pay…a price paid for in souls…the Hive are more than just invaders, darling, they were once ‘us’.” “So if this Cirkus creature is here…” Magenta said very slowly. Lillian Swinger nodded and smiled broadly. “Then the Fictionsphere is open…and if the Fictionsphere is open, it’s not the Cirkus that you need to about…” * * * The Plainsman buy Fait Accompli had been blessed from birth with the ability to manipulate luck, ensuring the best possible outcome for any given situation provided her mind was focused and unclouded by emotion. The nature of her power had accounted for her meteoric rise to fame in the developing motion picture industry during her youth. It was a power of limitless potential, a skill that allowed her to face unimaginable odds and still walk away unscathed. Whilst the former Roman centurion at her side was unquestionably the leader of the small unit, it was Fait who took charge once battle was enjoined. Smears of thick, vicious blood stained the pavement and ran down the smooth, contours of the featureless armour of the two Agents, the wounded invader howling piteously and hissing at them with its numerous mouths as it struggled to limp sideways away from them. Anxiously, Fait exchanged a glance with the old soldier. “This doesn’t seem to be the same kind of monster described in the message we received from the Corps,” she said, her voice clear and distinct despite the lack of a mouthpiece in the face of her masque. Flavius kept his eyes trained on the struggling alien and said nothing for a moment. The creature whimpered, its exoskeleton bruised and fractured in places from where Fait’s fists had connected. With a grunt, the Roman reached down for his belt and flipped his phone open, dialling a number and lifting it up to the side of his head. Behind the featureless, red masque, his eyes remained fixed on the pitiful, if hideous invader. “Chief,” he said clearly, “this is Centurion. I fear that someone has played us for the fool.” * * * “Sir, Rudloe Manor is reporting a huge build of ghost radiation in the Camden Borough area,” one of the two girls reported, leaning backwards in her chair. Her breath crystallised in the air as she spoke, the freezing conditions of the Abbey bringing a flush of red to her face. Hoodwink twitched his whiskers and narrowed his eyes. The Thin White Duke remained standing, one arm behind his back and the mobile phone held closely to his ear. In the dim light of the Abbey, his sculpted ice hair cast a long and sinister shadow upon the wall. “Friend Flavius,” Dodgson said carefully into the phone, “I hope you’ve got your running shoes on…” “Sir!” the young girl called out again, looking directly at Dodgson, “Engineering reports Lion Kaiser is requesting permission to depart.” “Permission granted,” Dodgson said without pause, “close the airlocks and stand by to open Newgate!” With a smile, Joseph Dodgson returned his attention to the phone once more. “Hold tight on those running shoes, squire,” he smiled, “call it a hunch but I think our young magician might just be about to save the day.” * * * Magenta pulled the twin control sticks back as far as they would go, the vast leonine shape of Lion Kaiser roaring out from the mouth of Newgate and into the cold water. About her, the cramped cockpit trembled with the vibrations of the craft’s abrupt acceleration, setting her teeth on edge and blurring her vision. She lifted her right hand from the corresponding stick and pulled down a standard keyboard close to her, bypassing the lecteur de tarot interface that earlier SUNNY Corporation machines had been built around. In both the machines Elisabeth Fate had developed for the Intergalactic New Mages Corps and the Cale Corporation constructed Kaiser Machines, the use of the elaborate lecteur de tarot system had been minimised, mostly due to the lack of availability of complete decks to power the machines. Fate had muddied the waters with her solution, incorporating the skulls and artefacts of totem deities into her machines and causing a minor moral outcry amongst certain groups who objected to the notion of what was considered blatant paganism. Her work at Cale Corporation had taken a different route. Whilst each of the Kaiser Machines developed still housed lecteur de tarot technology as a sort of emergency back up, the core power and control came from advanced computers and portable nuclear reactors built as a joint development between Cale Corporation and the Japanese firm, Kabushiki-Kaisha Sega. With the advent of scaled down nuclear reactors undercutting traditional power companies, Cale Corporation, had seen the potential for these six-foot units to not only power an office block or apartment building, but to provide the necessary raw power to sustain the powerful Kaiser Machines. The fearsome imagination engines, great echoing chambers that actively drew in hopes and dreams from the surrounding populace and translated them into energy, had also been scaled down within the Kaiser Machine design. Whilst the older senshi machines had devoted at least eighty percent of their size to housing the great engines, analogous with those used in the Faustian Four’s sophisticated helicar, the Kaiser Machines used them solely in relation to the reactors. The reactor gave the craft its instant speed, whilst the imagination engines, reconfigured to pick up additional traces of Millennial Spirit, feed into the heart of the construct. Swiftly her hand tapped at the keyboard, keying in her destination and locking the machine on course. With her hands now freed from direct control, she reached down and took out her phone, slid its narrow form into the control deck until all that was visible was the long string of phone charms proceeding from its end. With another burst of movement, she tapped in a second code and set the phone to begin charging as soon as the sensors detected the presence of Millennial Spirit particles. As Lion Kaiser burst forth from the water and crashed on all fours onto the Surrey shores, the young magician reflected on the nature of what Lillian Swinger had told her and resolute, uncompromising urgency took hold of her actions. An entirely theatrical and impossible dimension threatened to overspill into the streets of Camden Borough. Yet the situation was no longer about the Fictionsphere or the Hive but rather something much more important – life. Her eyes narrowed, her attention focused on several screens at once. She took a deep breath and placed a hand against the control panel, feeling the soft hum of the twin power cores – nuclear and imagination – beneath the palm of her hand. “Lion Kaiser,” she whispered, “I’m counting you.” From deep beneath her feet, she thought she could feel a tremulous roar of response. * * * The creature – Cirkus, as Hoodwink had identified it – began to shudder, lifting up its talons and clawing at its own head, staggering on bowed legs and lashing out at parked cars. Fait shook her head, her armour vanishing in a spray of particle as the bitter wind met her face, causing her to recoil, the acrid taste of burning on her lips. She wore the simple black one-piece uniform favoured by Lundunaborg’s Science Agents, a uniform of simplicity designed to afford each operative as much freedom of movement as possible. “Something is wrong,” Flavius remarked, dispelling his own armour with a wave of his hand, “this isn’t the actions of an invader, despite what communications Hoodwink received.” The creature began to tremble and convulse, its mouths open and the air about them filled with screams of pain. A fine wound emerged in its features, running symmetrically down its face, other hairline cracks appearing within the armour of its exoskeleton. Flavius tightened his gloved fists, his jaw set in determination. He was no stranger to battle yet the prospect of combat with a foe so obviously in pain felt like an injustice. Yet their information on both the Cirkus and the Hive race indicated a violent nature. How long, he wondered could they risk leaving the monster unattended. How long could they go before the situation demanded they make a decisive final attack against the beast? The cracks widened and then, with a final howl, the creature’s spine straightened and the armour split open revealing a thin, reptilian man in a pale white suit stained by blackened blood. His head was triangular, running down into a single point, which terminated in a tiny puckering mouth from which a forked tongue flickered nervously forth. Unlike the creature he had emerged from, the stranger in the white suit appeared to lack eyes. With amusement, Fait Accompli noted that, despite having been born from the ruins of a potential alien invader, the reptilian man seemed to have a glass of red wine in his right hand. Lion Kaiser roared overhead and slammed forcefully into the road ahead of them, steam rising from its hide. Flavius, carefully looked from the reptilian man to the lithe shape of Magenta the Magician as she clambered down the machine’s carved mane. She ran forwards several steps, the heels of her boots resounding upon the stone beneath her feet, and then stopped, her phone already in her hand. The reptilian man turned slowly to look at her with his eyeless face, raised the glass in her direction and then brought it to his lips. With a slurp, the wine ran over the brim over the glass and into his dark mouth. “Ma puce,” Fait Accompli called out, “would you care to illuminate us on this unexpected turn of events?” Magenta the Magician looked from the reptilian man to her friends and slowly, a smile crept to her lips. “This is the Faceless Fury,” she beamed happily, “he’s one of the good guys.” * * * Becky Calohan hadn’t expected the canteen area to be overrun by high-level staff in the presence of an alien ambassador so suddenly. She stood, her fingers wrapped around a thin paper cup full of hot coffee and stared as the Roman soldier who had rescued her from Xero-X, throw the door wide open. Behind him followed the pilots of both Lion Kaiser and Dolphin Kaiser, a thin alien man with scales for skin, a rotund black and white cat and, last but not least, the head of Lundunaborg, Joseph Dodgson, his hair melting slightly in the warmer climate of the staff canteen. Quickly she straightened her hooded jacket and stood to attention, wincing as coffee spilt over her hand. Dodgson nodded and smiled. “You might wish to make a hasty exit, Ms. Calohan,” he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I’ve got a feeling that things are going to get a bit metaphysical in here.” She nodded, resisting the urge to salute and throw further coffee over herself and made a hasty exit, though not before stealing a glance and a smile at the broad shouldered Roman who stood rigidly at his chief’s side. Dodgson raised a carved eyebrow as she left and looked towards his friend. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” he remarked. “No doubt due to my notable glory and honour on the field of battle,” Flavius answered with a straight face. “Certainly it’s not to do with your modesty,” Fait Accompli smirked as she pulled a chair back. Flavius glowered darkly at her. “Alright, kids, break it up,” Dodgson cut in, pulling a chair out for the Faceless Fury and then another for himself, “I’ve got some questions I want answered so let’s hope you’re all good at storytelling.” The reptilian nodded and sat down, placing his empty glass upon the table upon him. Dodgson sat down next to him, crossing his legs and placing an arm casually over the back of the chair. “Before we begin, would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” The Faceless Fury inclined his head. “Tea, thank you,” he said, his tongue flickering in his small mouth. “Sugar and milk?” Hoodwink enquired, jumping up onto the table and sitting upright as Magenta began to push buttons on the drinks machine. The reptile shook his head. “Black, please.” Joseph Dodgson smiled at the absurdity of the situation, watching as Magenta returned with a cheap plastic tray commemorating the Silver Jubilee and several paper cups of tea and a bowl of water. She placed a cup before each of the humanoid inhabitants at the table and then, with a wink, put the bowl in front of Hoodwink. “So let’s start at the beginning,” Dodgson said, shrugging free of his suit jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair, “both you and this Lillian Swinger character Magenta met in the Greater London Borough of Valhalla or wherever it is that magicians go wondering…” “It’s called the astral plane, chief!” the young girl pouted, sitting down across from him. Dodgson nodded. “I stand corrected,” he turned again to the Faceless Fury, “both you and Lillian Swinger were members of some Science Hero team in the 60s or the 70s or something?” “That would be correct, sir, yes,” the reptile smiled, “both myself and Lillian were members of the Space Mages, active from 1966 to 1973.” Fait Accompli leant forwards on the table. “Forgive me for asking, Monsieur Fury, but when then is it that no one remembers you?” The reptile turned his head away, lifting the cup of tea to his lips and seemingly staring at the wall. “We were retconned out of existence by the Fictionsphere,” he said bitterly. “Define ‘retconned’ for me,” Dodgson said. Magenta shot a hand up into the air. “I know this one, chief!” she called out with enthusiasm. The Thin White Duke slowly shook his head. “I want to hear it from Mister Fury,” he said calmly. The reptile sighed and turned towards them once more. “When Oliver Twisted polluted the Fictionsphere, it caused our era to undergo radical reconstruction. The world literally shifted out of alignment, writing my comrades and me from the very pages of history itself. Our only recourse was to seal the Fictionsphere from both outside and in…as a team we each elected to remain within. The original Magenta the Magician completed the spell from the outside as we sealed the defences within. “The resulting implosion of time and possibility ejected us forever from the history of the world, never to return.” “And yet you obviously did,” Hoodwink said, his eyes turned down as he studied his reflection in the water, “So what is your connection with the Hive?” “The Hive are a fictional species, their bodies were our prison. I alone survived the translation into the new flesh and was able to maintain my own physical form beneath the entity of the being I became. Hence the theatricality of my identity as ‘Cirkus’,” he paused, and small mouth puckered into a smile, “Perhaps it was a poor joke yet, considering the bleakness of my situation, I must ask you not to begrudge me my peculiar sense of humour.” Dodgson nodded, reached over to his jacket and taking out his spectacles. “There’ll be some paperwork to sort out, Mister Fury, but I’m satisfied that you’re on the side of the angels. Obviously we’re going to have to verify all this through official channels but my instincts haven’t failed so far and I don’t think I’m wrong now either. We’ll get in touch with immigration and see about getting you a passport for wherever it is you want to settle. I just have two questions left: one, who really sent that message to us about the Hive and, two, where is this Oliver Twisted?” The Faceless Fury looked directly towards Dodgson with his eyeless face and sighed. “I fear that your latter question answers your first.” Dodgson nodded grimly, tiny drops of water forming upon the tips of his hair. “Looks like my paperwork pile just got bigger,” he remarked with distemper. Artifice Albion tome #4: Leave a Reply |
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