Millennium Man & Mysteria:
"Shemhamphorae"
by Jacob Milnestein

"I just can't
leave you this way
when you’re not ok
and trains will pass
through here someday
and take you away
but you won't let
me hit the ground
when my heart slows down."
- Louise Post,
‘Wet Suit’
 

Michael Manly sat alone, staring morosely out through the window of his hospital room.

It had been several weeks since his confrontation with the Bowler, several weeks since he had stumbled into hospital, fearful that he was losing his mind.

In those weeks he had discovered something worse.

The root of his problems was not solely mental but also of a physical nature. Michael Manly was suffering from brain damage.

Funny, he never thought he was susceptible to such injuries, always thought he was above being such wounds. Surely being Millennium Man assured him of freedom from such human ailments?

Apparently not…

He had always believed that such a condition only ever effected other people and now here it was, a corruption in his own mind, just waiting to finish him off like so many other adversaries before it.

It was his confrontation with the creature known as ShadowWraith that had been the final straw.

He had struggled with the monster, mostly from a distance yet still it had managed to get one or two direct hits in. Oh, they hadn't slowed him down at the time and in all honesty he had thought nothing of them, what with ShadowWraith being considerably weaker than himself but unchecked the wounds he had received in that monumental battle had slowly grown into something not even he could fight off.

Over a year of protecting Pacific City from the nefarious schemes of villains and this was how it was going to end: alone in a hospital room, cut off completely from the outside world.

The sudden click of the door handle awoke him from his reflective stupor, the foul stench of cigarette smoke filtering through the air.

He turned, frowning; knowing full well that smoking was prohibited within the hospital, aside from in certain allocated waiting rooms.

A thin woman with an irksome smile stood framed in the light of the doorway, long black coat draped over her scrawny frame and a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth.

"Mister Manly, I take it?" She smiled.

A frown crossed Manly's face.

He didn't recognise the newcomer. Something about her presence set him on edge, as if this woman's mere presence signalled something that was at once dangerous yet at the same time appealing.

"Who are you?" He whispered, his voice quiet and strained.

"My name's Anna Romanova." She smiled warmly. "I've come to talk to you about the end of the world. I've come to talk about Millennium Man."

In that instant he felt his heart leap into his throat.

Over a year of careful planning, of chance and gambit as much as foresight and consideration all ruined in the solitary instant.

Finally someone had worked out who he was.

He looked at her once more, taking in the cold and distant beauty she represented and swallowed hard.

"You best sit down then." He muttered and indicated a chair at his bedside.

Romanova smiled quietly to herself.

"Thank you," She replied. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Charlie Winters stood upon the threshold of the helicar, the vast expanse of the city extending before him as he remained impassive, cigarette in his right hand and face etched in concentration.

It had been fair amount of time since last he set foot in Pacific City.

During the time when the Fightin' Fist Four were active as superheroes, Pacific City had been little more than a borderline average Australian city. All the excitement in those times had taken place in New York.

He smiled at the memory.

Ah, New York.

Yes, they had all been there then. The original Millennium Man, Magenta the Magician, Fast-Forward, Fireczar and Chastity. The world had been full of colourful, costumed heroes during those halcyon days. Now they were either dead or retired into obscured.

During the '80s the world had lost its taste for Science Heroes.

They were no longer a respected part of the community. Characters like the Grim Knight had given them all a bad name.

Millennium Man had off course remained and that was part of the problem.

Whilst Millennium Man was still around, the world was wide open to attack from outside forces. In the end it had been necessary to remove Henry Burke from his position as the world's universal protector and hope to God that someone more appropriate would take his place

Charlie Winters and the remaining three members of the Fightin' Fist Four had more than been willing to shoulder that responsibility.

They had first received word of the Bowler and the Imperial Magistrate in 1977 after a brief excursion to Earth # 746364. Upon their return they had begun preparation for the eventual appearance of the Bowler in their own dimension.

And now, after twenty-four years of planning and scheming, the Bowler had finally arrived and, as they predicted, been defeated.

The death of the Bowler had made the situation worse.

Now they knew for certain that reinforcements would be arriving in order to assess where their premiere agent had gone wrong.

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, taking a deep breath of nicotine and tar.

Soon the Imperial Magistrate's invasion force would arrive.

Majestic Man stood upon the bridge of the English Rose, watching the pale strands of starfire fade past the extensive hull of the great warship.

It had been several weeks since they had lost contact with the Bowler.

This had disturbed the Imperial Magistrate greatly. For many weeks, she had gathered her soothsayers and fortune-tellers to her court at which point Majestic Man had rolled his eyes and pretending not to be a part of the great proceedings taking place.

It was eventually decided that if the Bowler had been destroyed then he had finally come across an incarnation of Millennium Man that he was unable to defeat. In which case the only sensible option was to declare war on lower-Earth #746387.

In some ways Majestic Man felt ashamed that events had eventually snowballed in such a fashion.

He knew how important an asset he was to the Imperial Magistrate and, on that basis, it had been decided that all other Millennium Men must be destroyed so he could remain the strongest incarnation in all possible dimensions.

Looking out of the warship's great liquid windows he couldn't help but think that all this was being done to appease his own ego.

He smiled and drew a cigarette out of the slender white box, catching a reflection of his own face, framed by slicked back hair and a neatly trimmed moustache, in the window before him.

It was flattering, that much was true but he really did not feel it to be necessary.

Still, he was not adverse to the occasional stroke of his ego, especially not from the Imperial Magistrate herself and so, for the time being, he had chosen not to argue with the decided course of action.

Lighting his cigarette, Bruce Todd returned his attention once more to the receding stars.

Anna Romanova leant forwards, her chin resting on her knuckles as she watched him intently.

"I must admit I was surprised to find out you were Millennium Man." She smiled disarmingly, her black hair falling across her right eye.

"And why would that be?" Michael Manly answered weakly.

She shrugged, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"I didn't figure you as the superhero type, didn't think you had it in you."

"I was chosen!" Manly snapped angrily. "Being Millennium Man is my destiny!"

She shook her head sadly and reclined in her chair.

"You daft sod." She answered, the smile remaining. "You have no idea how you came into being, do you?"

"I was chosen." He repeated, this time with a little less certainty.

"Yes, you were, I'm not disputing that. But do you know who chose you?"

"The…the prophet chose me." He proclaimed uncertainty.

"Not quite, but close enough." She answered, as if taking to a child. She sighed and lifted the cigarette to her exquisite lips. "You were chosen by mere chance, Mister Manly. I know you may not be aware of this fact but there was a Millennium Man before you, good bloke he was but a bit soft. In all other universes I've seen he always dies in the same way, poisoned by the Faustian Four. That gives rise to a new Millennium Man appearing, Earth's very picky about her defenders, you see.

"It's a very traditional story, one of sacrifice and renewal. The old Millennium Man is murdered by his former colleagues and thus the Earth chooses a new person to continue his legacy and dispatch of the Faustian Four. In the meantime, the former Millennium Man's daughter winds up becoming a Science Heroine and thus a whole new age of heroes is born and everyone's happy. Return to innocence and all that. Except something went wrong here. The Faustian Four are still alive and whilst, the original Millennium Man's daughter is a superheroine, she's a bit of a crap one.

"You knocked it all out of whack, Michael, my son. There you were stumbling blindly along when you walked into destiny's way, thus by a twist of a fate you end up as Millennium Man." She paused looking darkly at him. "But it shouldn't have been you. It should have been Bruce Todd."

Michael Manly was silent for a moment, staring at the mysterious woman with wide eyes.

At the back of his mind he registered how beautiful she was yet refused to allow himself to fully acknowledge the extent of her beauty.

"What you’re saying…that would mean that…that Victoria Burke is Mysteria and that her father was the first Millennium Man…" He staggered with the full weight of the notion, trying to piece it together in his head.

Anna Romanova nodded quietly.

"That would be right." She smiled, taking another drag on her cigarette. "The question is now what are you going to do about it?"

Michael Manly remained silent, his jaw wide open.

The woman sitting in the chair before him smiled and awaited his answer.

Victoria Burke looked hesitantly down at her Mysteria costume.

Every single aspect of her being seemed to cry out against the thoughts that ran through her head. She knew in her heart of hearts that she was no longer Mysteria but somehow she felt as if she were somehow in debt to the old man who had taken such pains to bestow the powers of invisibility upon her.

Removing the ancient scarab from her pocket she cast a critical eye over its gleaming surface.

She did not feel like Mysteria.

Yet on a deeper level she knew she was obliged to adopt the costume one last time, if only for the sake of the old man.

No, not just for him, but for her father also.

There were some things in life were more important than personal wants and desires, things that related to blood and to family.

This, she knew, was one of them.

Silently she began to undress, adopting the familiar domino mask once more.

Instantly she felt the change surging through her, her uncontrollable powers threatening to shatter her physical identity and return her to a state of blissful invisibility.

Gritting her teeth, she removed the clothes Victoria Burke had dressed in that morning and dressed once more in the costume of Mysteria.

There were things in this life, she reasoned, that were more important than the individual.

She turned and glanced at the television screen, live broadcasts of the 'helicar' filling a predominant portion of the screen.

The Faustian Four had already arrived in Pacific City.

It was time to avenge her father's death.

The pale surface of the small sphere came slowly into sight.

Strange, Todd reflected, it looks so much like home from up here.

A strange feeling of melancholia filled him as he looked down at the helpless world laid out before him. He wondered how similar they were, whether his friends and family were alive down there, completely oblivious of his presence.

What was he like on that world? Was he rich? Was he famous? Was he free from the duties that even now compelled him to act in a manner he was not entirely comfortable with?

He reached out for a cigarette and saw the Union Jack that decorated his costume, reminding him that there was more to him that his insecurities.

He was a global symbol of the all-powerful Imperial Magistrate and a servant to her every whim. Tied to the wishes of the global nation that filled the surface of his own Earth.

He was the most powerful Millennium Man in all the universes, the monarch of superheroes.

He was Majestic Man.

And that was a truth he could never escape from.

Bowing his head sadly, Bruce Todd prepared himself for the Rose's descent.

Johnny Chambers lit a cigarette, exhaling loudly.

His sister, Shirley and brother-in-law waited calmly at the end of the helicar's ramp, engaged in some private conversation he was not privy to.

Noting his arrival, Charlie Winters turned and offered him a nod of greeting, which Johnny respectfully returned.

He looked up at the sky, grey clouds obscuring the sun.

"Do you want me to wake sleeping beauty up?" He asked, exhaling smoke once more.

Winters shook his head.

"No, I shouldn't think we'll need him for the time being." The older man answered.

"Fair enough." Johnny shrugged, joining his two comrades at the end of the ramp. "So what's the plan of action then?"

Winters glanced up at the crowded sky.

"It seems we're early." Winters remarked. "I expected them to already be here."

"So what do we do until they get here?" Shirley Winters asked, her face betraying not even the faintest shred of emotion.

"We wait." Charlie answered.

"No pre-emptive strike then?" Johnny smirked.

"There's no point. We'll need Manly alive for this one. Of course, once its all over then its open season on superheroes but until then he stays alive." A cruel smile spread slowly over Winters’ features.

High above them a solitary star began to burn brighter in the twilight sky.

With difficulty he forced himself to stand up, moving slowly from the relative comfort of Romanova's car and out onto the cold pavement outside his apartment building.

He had discharged himself from the hospital only hours earlier, much to the protests of the doctors and nurses there.

He knew what was wrong with him, knew that the illness would very likely kill him yet still he felt compelled to dress in the sacred garb of Millennium Man one last time.

Romanova had explained the situation in such blunt terms that he had felt there was little else he could do. He had to become Millennium Man again, it was his duty.

She followed behind him, a playful smile lighting her face and a gleam in her eye.

As they walked up the hallways of the building he could hear the voice of Regina Darling emanating from every television set in the immediate area.

Desperately he struggled to force the envy and jealousy from his mind.

"Do you have a plan?" Romanova inquired.

He turned startled somewhat and almost dropped his keys. His head was pounding, making it difficult for him to concentrate.

"What do you mean?" He replied in an agitated fashion.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"A plan, stupid. Do you have one? Or are you simply going to fly in there and take out the Faustian Four as well as the combined military might of the Imperial Magistrate?"

He paused, frowning.

"That was the general idea, yes." He finally answered.

"It's a crap one. And it won't get you very far either." The mysterious woman snapped.

"What would you suggest I do?" He asked, already losing his temper. His head screamed out in agony and his vision was blurring.

"Get help. Christ knows you’re not the only superhero here." She answered, gesturing with her arms. "This place breeds the buggers like bloody insects."

"I can't really on them." He said turning away and forcing the key into the lock. "They wouldn't understand."

"If you don't get help then you’re going to end up as a sticky mess decorating the pavement." She warned.

He nodded silently, more to himself than her.

"Then so be it." He whispered darkly and forced the door open.

Swiftly she moved from rooftop to rooftop, the wind bellowing in her eyes with each leap she made.

A thrill of excitement rushed through her body, much as she hated to admit it. Slowly she was remembering why she had become Mysteria in the first place.

Thus far she had been able to fight back the fits of uncontrollable invisibility that had plagued her as of late.

That was a good sign, she reminded herself.

Pausing she glanced down at the scarab, pinned to the neck of the cloak she had added to her costume before leaving.

It was a small touch but she reasoned that it was necessary, as her traditional costume had no such pockets she could store the magician's gift in.

She turned her mind slowly back to his words.

‘The scarab is a physical object linked to that place that remains outside of our universe, the place of the haunting gods. You will no longer need to change into your Mysteria costume; the act of will and the link you will form with the deity on the receiving end of the object will transform you in whatever image it sees fit. It may be beautiful, but then it may be horrifying. Expect no consistency from it for, like any creator, it will change its mind often.’

The words still sent a chill down her spine.

So far she had thus avoided the activating the scarab's power. She secretly hoped that she would be strong enough to take on the Faustian Four without needing to. If she could do that then she would prove that there was no longer any reason for her to be Mysteria. She would have defeated those who had killed her father and could return to her ‘normal life’.

If she was forced to use the scarab then she knew that the price would be the old man's life. This was something she couldn't quite come to terms with.

Up ahead she saw the vast shadow of the Faustian Four's craft.

Silently she prepared herself.

In her heart she knew she was facing her true destiny.

Majestic Man waited patiently, arms crossed over his chest.

Surely they must have noticed their presence by now and yet still there was no sign of military opposition.

Perhaps this world was more primitive than even he had thought.

"What troubles you so, brave hero?" An enchanted voice whispered from his side.

He turned startled and immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

"Your Majesty, I was unaware you would be accompanying us on this expedition." He stammered, somewhat taken aback.

"Rise, Majestic Man." The voice whispered. "You have no place at my feet, only by my side."

Slowly he obeyed her commands, lifting his head and looking upon her radiant features. She was even more beautiful now, on the eve of war, than he had ever seen her. Her pale, blonde hair falling past her shoulders and her bare feet hovering several inches above the surface of the metal floor.

From her back extended eight glorious wings of the purest dove feathers and instead of the simple gowns of immaculate white she now wore armour forged in the divine furnaces.

"It is only fitting that England should once more have her warrior queen." The Imperial Magistrate proclaimed, smiling at the look of confusion upon her servant's furrowed brow.

"Y-You are planning to fight on the frontline?" He gasped, truly in awe of her unparalleled beauty.

She nodded solemnly.

"I would wish to see with my own eyes any such man that could defeat our dimensional emissary." She replied, casting a curious glance in his direction.

His face turned red and he began to tremble, fear rising from the pit of his stomach.

If the Imperial Magistrate believed the Millennium Man of lower-Earth #746387 then surely he would be cast by the wayside in favour of this new arrival.

"Fear not, my valiant hero." She smiled, sensing his fear. "No mortal is your equal in combat, of this I am sure. I have consulted the great oracle. This campaign will bode well for us, it assures me so."

"Yes, my Queen, of course." He answered swiftly, still terrified of the notion that he might be stripped not only of his title but of the Magistrate's favour also.

A young Oriental in the dark uniform of the Imperial army approached them. He bowed twice, once to the Queen and once to Majestic Man.

His uniform identified him as the lowest of the slaves drafted into the Imperial forces, those born in the outer provinces of the global nation of England on his own native Earth. Their kind was destined for little more than a life of servitude with no hope of ever attaining titles.

"If it pleases your Majesty, sir, we are ready to drop into orbit above lower-Earth #746387." He announced.

She smiled sweetly again, setting the slave's heart aflutter, just as she did every man and woman who ever gazed upon her beauty.

"Thank you, Jian but I don't believe that will be necessary."

Todd opened his mouth to speak but the words died in his throat.

"I believe the best course of action would be for us to make our presence known personally. Sending the Rose or any of the fleet into orbit around the planet would only alarm the citizens." She paused, still smiling and looked at Todd. "Besides, I am looking forwards to meeting Millennium Man #746387 personally."

Majestic Man shivered, silently seething with rage.

"As you wish, your Majesty." The slave bowed and hastily made his departure.

The Imperial Magistrate stepped calmly past Majestic Man and looked out of the window.

"You do not approve of my methods, oh, hero?" She inquired.

He swallowed. Hard.

"Its not that, my Queen, its simply that I feel the Rose would be a more adequate display of our…of your power."

"Am I not splendid enough then?" She asked.

He could see her eyebrows arch in her reflection as she spoke.

"You are more than splendid, your Majesty. I just believe that a display of military power would be more…apt."

She shrugged.

"I care not for military power. Both the oracle and my soothsayers have assured us of victory. I see no harm in indulging my curiosity just a little."

He opened his mouth to protest but once more found himself lost for words.

"As you wish, my Queen." He finally said, bowing with resignation.

The Imperial Magistrate smiled quietly to herself.

"She's here." Shirley Winters remarked, a bored expression on her face.

"Who is?" Her brother quipped; looking up at the rooftops that surrounded the park where the helicar was currently situated.

"The tart in the spandex." Shirley answered.

"Well I can't bloody see her." Johnny Chambers remarked, frustrated.

"That's because she's invisible, you twat." Charlie Winters said bitterly.

He had used his powers for a good many years and was disgruntled at being manoeuvred into using them now even though he knew he had little choice.

Every muscle in his body tensed and he closed his eyes in preparation.

Without warning Charlie Winters suddenly rushed forwards, leaving nothing behind but the after-image of where he had formerly stood.

Travelling at the speed of light, he ran circles round the helicar until gradually, changing the angle of his approach until he had ran around it a million times over until finally the lithe form of the female Science Heroine Mysteria was as apparent as if she were visible to all and sundry gathered there.

With a well-aimed punch he floored her and began to slow down.

As Mysteria lost her concentration she suddenly became visible once more, the effort of being able to control her powers becoming too much. She hit the floor, hard, fading in and out between the two states.

The next sensation she became aware was one of sudden sickness as she felt herself being lifted physically from the ground and hurled in the air.

With a thud she impacted with the floor once more, creating a trench of churned grass and mud in her wake.

Charlie Winters stopped running suddenly, appearing once more in the place he had last occupied, standing alongside his wife and brother-in-law.

Dazed, the felled Science Heroine picked herself up from the ground.

A thin stream of blood ran down from her right ear but she hardly noticed, such was the concentration and effort she employed in remaining visible.

She knew that to dissolve back into invisibility would only result in a similar situation and this was something she was eager not to repeat. Gradually she accepted the fact that she would have to deal with her father's murderers without the aid of her invisibility.

"You…" She whispered, between breaths. "You're the ones that killed my father!"

Charlie Winters smiled, lighting a fresh cigarette. Running at the speed of light always seemed to have an adverse affect on him.

"And you must be Victoria." Charlie smiled. "You've grown a lot since last we met."

A frown crossed Mysteria's carefully organised expression.

"We've met before?" She asked, stunned slightly by the revelation.

"When you were a little girl. We came to warn your father but alas he wouldn't listen." Winters shrugged, inhaling from his cigarette.

"And so you had him killed instead." She growled, the anger surpassing her momentary confusion.

"How astute of you. But I'll wager you didn't work that one by yourself." He said, eyeing the scarab with suspicion. "The disease we ‘introduced’ to your father was a unique strain of the Ebola virus designed specifically to target metahuman metabolisms. Its quite unique on Earth #746350, so I hear, but has yet to reach our own Earth, discounting your father of course."

"You heartless bastard." She snarled.

"I'm afraid it was necessary. If your father had remained as Millennium Man then we'd all be dead very soon. As it happens, we now stand a chance so it's all worked out for the best. Now if you'd kindly sod off we're waiting for someone important."

"I'll kill you all." She promised through gritted teeth.

Shirley Winters rolled her eyes.

"Get over it, love. It's done with." She snapped.

Something inside of the Science Heroine snapped and she sprung forwards, her mouth wide open in a scream of rage of fury.

She collided abruptly with an invisible force field and fell back to the ground.

Shirley Winters smiled coldly from behind the barrier.

"If you really must insist on playing your little games perhaps you'd care to take on our four member whilst we wait patiently for our visitors. If you can get past them then we'll gladly fight you later." Charlie smiled cruelly and, before waiting for her reply turned and nodded in Chambers’ direction.

Johnny Chambers grinned stupidly and retrieved a control mechanism from his long coat, depressing the solitary red button.

The wind gathered but no one spoke.

Suddenly she became aware of the fourth member of the Faustian Four standing framed in the doorway of their vehicle.

She gasped despite herself as the creature slowly lumbered into view.

It was truly hideous, flesh the colour of rotting corpses and withered plants. Protruding from its back with several spikes of yellowed bone and where its fingers ought to have been there was nothing but large talons of various shapes and sizes.

Its mouth was twisted in a hideous grimace of triumph as it walked harmlessly through Shirley Winters’ invisible shield, stopping a few feet from Mysteria.

"This is our friend Frederic Shostakovich. He used to be just like me and you but as you can guess he's changed a little since then." Charlie Winters announced in a disinterested tone. "Frederic, if you'd care to deal with Miss Burke till we're less occupied."

The thing nodded slowly but said nothing.

Mysteria looked up at it, in height alone it was well over seven-foot.

She gritted her teeth and, standing up, dropped into a fighting stance.

At the back of her mind warning bells were already ringing.

She watched impassively as Michael Manly dressed in his Millennium Man costume once more, the yellow, red and white of his uniform shimmering in the light of the television set.

With one eye she kept track of Not Tonight, Darling, watched the carefully orchestrated conversation between Regina Darling and her guest.

"I don't think you should be trying to do this by yourself." She said suddenly, grinding her cigarette out in an old coffee mug.

Manly scowled, remaining with his back to her.

"First you ask me what I'm going to do about the situation and then you tell me I shouldn't be doing it alone. Make up your mind." He announced, his tone irritable.

She sighed, visibly rolling her eyes.

"All I'm saying is that I don't think you'll be able to handle them all by yourself." She said patiently.

"I'm doing the only thing I can do." He snapped; wincing from the pain that all but consumed his being.

Finally he turned to look at her, his expression one of determination and resolution.

She marvelled at how long he had managed to keep his secret identity a secret. It wasn't as if Michael Manly was exactly unknown to the general populace of Pacific City. He was still visibly recognisable as Michael Manly even in the Millennium Man costume. She wondered briefly why no one had worked it out yet.

"Don't die." She said seriously.

He offered a half-smile.

"I'll try not to." He replied and with that clambered out of the window and ascended into the darkening skies.

The winds gathered about her, blowing up the fallen leaves of trees and scattering them in all directions.

Every muscle in her body ached with exertion; her left arm hung limp at her side, broken by the creature's first attack.

She had given her all and yet still it continued, never once displaying even the slightest sign of discomfort.

"You all right there, love?" Johnny Chambers shouted out, mockingly. "Ready to give up yet?"

She gritted her teeth once more and ignored his taunts, leaping up into the air in order to narrowly avoid another of the creature's attacks.

With difficulty she landed on her feet and, by some miracle, managed to stay upright.

There was no chance she would be able to keep fighting for much longer, Frederic, or whatever its name was, was simply too strong for her.

The skies above were darkening with the approaching night, thick clouds of shadow filling the air. Somewhere in the distance she thought she could hear the faint rumble of thunder.

A flicker of lightening illuminated the dark shape of the monster before her, its mouth wide, exposing row upon row of predatory teeth.

Desperation filled her mind and with her right hand she fingered the Egyptian scarab given to her by the magician who had first bestowed the powers of invisibility upon her.

Tears of grief and exhaustion streamed down her face, staining the material of the domino mask that covered her eyes.

"I'm sorry, father." She whispered. "I've let you down again."

A sudden burst of light knocked her from her feet, blinding her almost as she toppled down towards the torn surface of the park. For a moment she felt as if the whole world was discoloured by the raging thunder and lightening that seemed to fill not only the sky but also her own mind.

"They're here." She thought she heard Charlie Winters proclaim with more than a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Movement…

Wincing, she prepared herself for the creature's final attack.

Moments passed and nothing happened.

Slowly she lifted her face from the dirt, bedraggled hair obscuring her vision slightly.

Standing between her and the Faustian Four's helicar was a fair number of soldiers, each dressed in anonymous black uniforms and wearing masques of some sort to cover their appearance.

They were identical to one other, nothing setting them apart. There was no sense of individuality just rows of blank expressions distorted by the glass and plastic of their masques.

Yet in front of the shadowy figures were two unique individuals, alike only in the contrast they provided to the soldiers.

The first was a man, dressed in a Union Jack uniform of sorts; black hair slicked back and a moustache adorning the space above his upper lip. In some ways he reminded her of the recently deceased billionaire, Bruce Todd…except that the eyes that stared out from behind those familiar features were harsh and vicious.

The other was astounding in her infinite beauty.

The very light that had exploded before her just moments ago seemed to emanate from the woman's very being.

She was…she was an angel!

Her head reeled. It was as if suddenly the world had sped up and she could no longer keep her place upon it. She wanted to scream out for someone to stop it, for anyone to make sense of it.

And a sudden calm descended upon her as she watched the angel.

It was unexplainable but as she spoke Victoria began to feel those old fears fade from her like the last vestiges of a nightmare in the early morning light.

"People of lower-Earth #746387," The angel announced in the most beautiful of voices. "You are hereby ordered to cast down your weapons and accept me as your supreme sovereign. Any resistance will be crushed instantly. You have been warned."

Despite her words, the angel's voice was hauntingly beautiful, calm and balanced like the gentlest stream in the most idyllic of landscapes.

"Not bloody likely." Johnny Chambers smirked, looking to his sister and brother-in-law for recognition.

He saw no such trace in either of their faces.

Slowly his expression fell.

Calmly the angel passed through Shirley Winters’ psychic barricade until she was looking down on his trembling figure.

"There will be no discussion of the matter." She whispered and offered him a saddened smile.

Chambers gasped in surprise, a sudden pain filling every inch of his body. Slowly he turned his eyes down to see the angel's flaming sword imbedded in his stomach.

He coughed once, his mind scrabbling for the words to express his new-found sense of discomfort before crumpling finally and falling from the sword onto the ground beneath.

Cold eyes stared up displaying his incomprehension of the events that had just taken place.

A moment later and the last whisper of life had departed from his body.

Anna Romanova stood alone amongst the clutter of Manly's apartment, watching the sheet lightening fill the sky.

She had spent so long preparing for this day, so long manipulating the players upon the stage of the tragedy they now faced that she had almost forgotten how truly terrifying the event itself was.

Despite herself, she could place all her faith in Manly alone.

Perhaps it was the presence of her brother at the back of her mind, perhaps not but even now she was not entirely convinced of his ability to achieve the victory they so desperately needed.

She knew of Michael Manly's illness and she knew what walking into a fight with the combined forces of the Faustian Four and the Imperial Magistrate would almost certainly finish him off. But most of all she knew there was nothing she could do for him.

He was a stubborn one alright, she reflected bitterly.

Already he had taken the first tentative steps towards leaving his past life behind and becoming Millennium Man constantly.

She wondered if such a course of action would be able to save him or would it simply hasten his deterioration.

"Idiot." She cursed, tears forming in her eyes. "Stupid idiot."

Desperately she searched her mind for a way around his illness, a way to save him but came up empty handed. As he turned his back upon his life as Michael Manly, so he turned his back on his chances of saving himself.

Silently she turned away from the window.

There was nothing she could do now to help him.

From the television, Regina Darling's calculated, false laughter stained the atmosphere of the room.

Millennium Man was still dazed by the momentary explosion of light that had filled the skies. He hadn't been prepared for that and, of course, the sudden flash had only made the pounding in his head fill that much worse.

As it was he was finding it extremely difficult to maintain a straight line and for a moment he had even thought he was going to end up sprawled in an array of different colours across the pavement.

But somehow he had managed to survive: despite all the odds, he was still intact.

His heart was pounding a mile a minute, almost in time with the universal aching that filled his clouded head. It was as if someone had repetitively battered him over the head with a steel girder wrapped in cotton wool.

Damn it, why was this happening to him?

Over the past few weeks everything he believed in had been thrown into doubt.

As Michael Manly he had been rejected by the general public in favour of Regina Darling and all her feminine charms whilst as Millennium Man he had somehow lost the clarity of mind that had made him first don his costume.

The revelations of the past had wounded him deeply. To know that he was never intended to wear the costume and hold the mantel of Pacific City's protector was more than his fragile ego could take.

At present he was uncertain as to which side of him loathed more: Michael Manly or Millennium Man, both had failed.

Yet on this cold night he was certain that failure was not an option.

This night heralded the most significant threat to Pacific City he had ever faced. All those long months of complaining about the inferiority of the foes he faced and now, as he reached his lowest ebb, the most powerful and evil foes he could think of had emerged.

He gritted his teeth in silent determination.

He had to pull through, he had to succeed, otherwise there would be Pacific City for anyone to protect.

Silently he continued on into the heart of the very darkness before him.

Shirley Winters’ cold expression of bored contempt faded in an instant, replaced by a sudden grief and anger that she was unable to place into words.

At her feet lay the bloody corpse of her brother; his eyes widen open in an expression of shock and surprise.

"You heartless bitch." She whispered, choking back the tears.

A calm determination descended over Charlie Winters; his muscles tensing once more as he prepared to employ his super-speed once more, much to the protest of his aching lungs.

The angel turned and looked at them with bemusement.

"I know you." She smiled politely. "On my world you died in 1967 at the hands of Henry Burke. I find it curious that you are still here."

Her words only seemed to fuel Winters’ anger.

"Frederic," He called out. "Leave the invisible girl alone for the time being. We've got more important matters to deal with."

The hideous monster nodded silently, lumbering over to where its comrades stood.

Mysteria watched on, unable to find words to express her emotions. Suddenly the Faustian Four, despite the great wrong they had done her seemed all too human, cold and alone against a foe that hopelessly out-matched them in terms of both strength and power.

The soldiers watched on with impassive, dead eyes from behind the glass of the masques.

"Don't throw your lives away." The man in the Union Jack suddenly announced, drawing attention to himself for the first time. "Any resistance against us would be an act of futility."

Charlie Winters shot him a glare.

"You're Bruce Todd." He said dangerously.

The other Bruce seemed somewhat taken aback, looking quickly to the angel for guidance.

She said nothing, simply nodded quietly.

"And what of it?" He finally replied.

Winters emitted a slow, dangerous laugh akin to that of a predator upon discovering its prey's weakness.

"You're dead here." He smiled. "You were murdered a few weeks back. Horrible business, so I'm told."

"That's irrelevant." Todd snapped, noticeably agitated.

"I thought it was amusing, myself." Winters continued, once more in control of the situation. "So we're dead on your world and you’re dead on ours. I think we got the better deal, somehow."

"I am Majestic Man!" Todd exclaimed, pushing his chest out. "The most powerful Millennium Man variant in all the universes."

"You're a twat. A big nancy who didn't even get to be Millennium Man. If you’re lucky we'll bury you next to yourself."

Majestic Man lunged forwards, his lungs filling with a scream of rage.

Winters side-stepped without effort, grabbing Todd's fist in his hand and hurling him backwards, knocking several rows of soldiers down into the dirt where they scrabbled like insects rolled over onto their backs.

Frederic began advancing menacingly forwards, raising its claws up high above its head.

Majestic Man looked up from where he had fallen but the angel refused to make eye contact.

"Destroy them," She whispered calmly. "Prove to us your worth."

Majestic Man swallowed hard and rose to his feet.

The remaining members of the Faustian Four gathered round, cackling like hyenas.

"You fools," He spat. "You can't even begin to comprehend my power."

Clenching his fists he let out a scream of fury, his eyes rolling up and turning white, muscles bulging and costume splitting.

A flame of ethereal fire surrounded him as the superhero enlarged his size several times over, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging under the strain.

Energy crackled about his very being, churning up the pot-holed loam before and creating a crater that almost threatened to swallow the gathered soldiers that stood in close proximity to him.

"Now," He smiled confidently. "You will witness the extent of my full power."

Mysteria watched as every hope of their survival dwindled and died. The transformed Majestic Man darted forwards and landing a punch directly on Winters’ face, shattering the bone of his nose and sending him toppling backwards against the helicar.

Valiantly Winters attempted to employ his super-speed but Todd's transformed was simply too fast. Every move he made was second-guessed and every attack blocked.

Laughing dangerously, Bruce Todd grabbed hold of the former superhero and smashed him effortlessly through the side of the helicar.

Spinning round he blocked Frederic's attack and locked eyes with the hideous monster.

"You're far too slow, little man." He whispered and lunged forwards, headbutting the monstrosity into submission.

Shirley Winters leapt forwards, attempting to bind the transformed hero with her psychic attacks and was likewise pounded into the ground, felling an attempt she could have made to turn him down.

The angel clapped with boredom, yawning slightly.

Majestic Man cast his enraged eyes down upon Mysteria, standing open mouthed in shock and fear.

"Anyone else wish to try their strength?" He laughed darkly.

She remained standing there, hands shaking as he held onto the Egyptian scarab.

The glare of the ethereal flame that surrounded him was dazzling, causing her to flinch and turn away from him.

She no longer had any choice; she had to use the scarab's powers!

Majestic Man turned and looked at the angel-queen. She nodded but still remained silently.

Lifting the communications device on the collar of his costume to his dry lips, Bruce Todd announced:

"This is Majestic Man to the English Rose, open fire at will."

A sudden flash of lightening flashed from the sky, extending downwards in a tower of light, tearing apart the very foundations of the city.

A sudden punch connected with the side of Bruce Todd's face, sending his head reeling.

The angel's eyes widened slightly with anticipation.

Standing before them, panting for breath, Millennium Man rose his fists once more.

"How about trying your luck with me?" He smiled confidently.

Anna Romanova was thrown to the floor, the bookcase toppling over and spilling its contents just before her.

Looking up she momentarily studied the covers of some of the books.

Candide, The Divine Comedy – she had never known Manly had fancied himself as an intellectual. She wondered if he had ever read any of them.

Pushing the thoughts away she lifted herself up once more, Regina Darling's voice had been silenced as the television toppled from its stand and crashed face down onto the floor.

Outside the light still carved its path through the city, tearing the sides from buildings and churning up the pavement and tarmac that lined the city.

Shakily she rose to her feet once more.

"Jesus," She whispered, her voice suddenly full of fear. "I hope you can stop this, Michael. Because if you don't then we're all buggered."

Millennium Man landed another punch, this time in his foe's chest. Despite his obvious disadvantages and the considerable strength of his opponent he was holding up remarkably well.

The Imperial Magistrate watched the fight, her eyes gleaming with pride and delight.

All around her, the weapons systems of the fleet had been to carve up the city, digging thick trenches through its streets and obliterating various buildings. Even though one such tower of light had already tore the front half of the Faustian Four's helicar off and reduced it to a smouldering wreck, she found she could not take her eyes off the two fighters.

They seemingly danced across the ruined grass of the park's surface, trading blows and insults but neither one really gaining an upper hand.

It was marvellous, truly beautiful.

In some ways she was thankful that the Bowler had finally been defeated. To witness such a site as this was breathtaking to say the least.

All the long centuries of domestic bliss upon her homeworld, decimating the lower-Earths from a distance, all of them paled in significance compared to this.

This truly was the way that superheroes were intended to fight.

Her heart rose as Majestic Man finally struck Millennium Man down, sending the mighty hero face down into the ground.

It was honestly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.

Charlie Winters awoke, his head spinning and screaming out in pain. He felt sick to his stomach and found it difficult to breathe.

He hadn't felt this way since New Year's Eve of 1989.

Slowly he forced himself to stand up.

This was not the way he had intended the day's events to unfold.

All those careful years of planning, all gone to waste. Everything he had worked towards since they had first discovered the existence of the Imperial Magistrate now meant absolutely nothing.

Painfully he hauled himself out of the wreckage of the ruined helicar, meeting his wife Shirley along the way.

They exchanged glances of bitter worry but said nothing.

Turning his aching head, Winters finally focused on the two struggling figures before him.

"Thank Christ, he finally turned up." The former Science Hero muttered, desperate for a cigarette despite the pain in his head.

"Do you think he'll make it?" Shirley Winters questioned, watching as Bruce Todd pounded him into the ground.

"I hate to say this," Winters said quietly. "But no, I don't think he will."

Michael Manly felt himself being pulled up from the warm embrace of the dirt, his vision was blurred and unfocused but he was confident he had Majestic Man right where he wanted him.

The leering face of Bruce Todd slowly swam into view.

Bruce Todd…

He could not help but remember the Bruce Todd he had once known. They had been friends once, their initial meeting occurring when Manly had interviewed him for a slot on The Manly Side. Though he had never been able to confide in Bruce the truth of his split identity, Todd had remained one of his closest friends up until his death.

He sighed, feeling tears in his eyes and had to remind himself that the man standing before him was not the Bruce Todd he had once known.

"You disgust me." Majestic Man taunted, holding him up by the hair. "I thought you of all people would at least provide a challenge."

Michael Manly had never killed anyone up until now.

The tears streamed down his warm face as he thrust his hands upwards.

For the duration of the fight he had been concentrating the majority of his energy into forming one large sun-bolt and now, at point blank range, he finally let it loose from his fingers and the palms of his hands, sending it forwards to bury itself in Majestic Man's body.

The other superhero did not even have the time to scream, the intensity of the heat burnt the skin from his disintegrating skull and boiled the blood that spurted upward from his crippled body.

Silently the sun-bolt moved onwards, having obliterated Todd's body from the torso upwards it eventually crashed into the gathered representatives of the Imperial Magistrate's army, turning them to ash on the spot.

Panting he rose up from where he stood, the charred remnants of Majestic Man's body staining the ground before him.

"You're finished." He gasped, between breaths.

The angel looked on bemused.

"I think not, Mister Manly." She smiled. "Though you have bested Majestic Man, you still have not dealt with me." She advanced, her feet still remaining above the ground. "It was expected that you would destroy Majestic Man, this much was predicted by the divine oracle."

With a roar, the creature formerly known as Frederic Shostakovich leapt from where it had fallen, diving towards her, its face contorted in rage.

Without looking, she turned her flaming sword against the creature, relieving it of its head and sending the lifeless corpse toppling to the ground.

She continued to advance towards Manly, that ever-present smile still remaining on her face.

Suddenly all eight of wings unfolded and she flew forwards, her flaming sword held out towards his.

Closing his eyes, the bruised and bleeding alter ego of Michael Manly leapt forwards to meet her.

The collided in mid-air, her sword cutting deep into his flesh whilst his punches connected with her angelic body.

Victoria Burke fingered the Egyptian scarab she had been given.

This was it.

She couldn't allow Millennium Man to die. Without him, Pacific City would be at the mercy of every single crackpot villain who happened to stumble across some alien artefact or occult knowledge. The world needed a Millennium Man now just as it had needed a Millennium Man during her father's lifetime.

Energy crackled around the scarab, running up from the soft gold metal and coursing through her veins.

Around her the Imperial Magistrate's war-fleet continued to trace lines of destruction across the city.

There was no escaping her destiny.

Without warning the energy exploded from the scarab.

Albert Weisz sat quietly in his study.

Outside he could see the towers of light shredding the city but could not bring himself to focus on them entirely.

He felt the first tug at his spirit and in his heart he knew that his days as both Albert Weisz and as Magenta the Magician were now over. From this point onwards he would go forth into a different world, a world that no man, woman or child could ever return from.

Sorrow filled his heart yet somehow he knew he had done the right thing.

His spirit became restless, aching to be free of the mortal cage to which it had been bound for so very long.

"Good luck, Victoria." He whispered, a solitary tear running down his withered cheeks.

Smiling softly, Albert Weisz closed his eyes and felt the power granted by the ancient and mystical scarab depart from him.

The light of the world dimmed and Albert Weisz embraced death.

His spirit soared ever upwards.

The Imperial Magistrate staggered backwards away from Millennium Man, turning her attention suddenly to the young woman, surrounded by energy.

"No," she whispered, sudden understanding filling her voice. "This is unprecedented. On all words Millennium Man was always the most powerful. How…How is this happening?"

The young woman made no attempt to reply, her good hand still clasped tightly around the Egyptian scarab. From her feet a crater began to spread, much wider than the one Majestic Man's powers had created though the strange flames that engulfed her body bore a similarity to the ones the dead hero had conjured.

The crater continued to spread, tossing chunks of dirt and grass up into the air and holding it there as if suspended upon thin wires.

Her dark hair rose up in a point above her head, flickering before turning completely blonde and her skin turned as white as virgin snow.

The costume she had worn was shredded, hanging in rags from her supple body and revealing the white skin beneath it.

"This isn't possible!" The Imperial Magistrate cried out in dismay.

"Jesus Christ on a bloody bike." Charlie Winters murmured, closing his eyes in order to shut out the light that emanated from the woman's body.

His wife collapsed into his arms, not daring to look at the woman's radiance.

The towers of light stopped abruptly, every single piece of machinery on every single craft suddenly flickering as they tried to calculate the impossible power source that burnt brighter than any star from the surface of the pale world beneath them.

The few remaining soldiers scurried for cover yet quickly found themselves overtaken by the spreading light and unceremoniously shunted off the mortal coils they had once inhabited.

Slowly Mysteria opened her eyes.

She had done it; she had accessed the divine power that the old magician had bequeathed to her.

She had ascended.

The Imperial Magistrate fell to her knees, eyes widening with fear.

Even Millennium Man seemed to shake from the power that blotted out the night, his expression one of stunned disbelief.

The ascendant deity looked down upon the quivering angel before her, expression unreadable and incomprehensible to human understanding.

"I know you, Akathriel Yan Yehod Sebaoth," She announced, her voice like the quaking of the very firmaments of Heaven itself. "I know you of old."

"Y-You are Yehovah Vehayah, she of the 100 names!" The Imperial Magistrate cried.

Mysteria nodded nobly.

"I am." She answered, the light of her power burning brighter still.

"No." The felled angel sobbed in sorrow. "No, this is not possible."

"You have no place here, Akathriel Yan Yehod Sebaoth." Mysteria continued. "This is not the world you were given principality over. You have exceeded your authority."

"I am the divine authority!" The Imperial Magistrate screamed back, sudden anger filling her. "Look at you, Yehovah Vehayah, bound to a woman of a flesh and blood, invoked by artefacts and letters of dead languages. You are the one who has exceeded your authority!"

The Imperial Magistrate rose upwards, her eight wings spreading once more in the same configuration as the ancient scholars had depicted centuries earlier.

Together the two angels clashed, Mysteria blocking the flames of the Magistrate's mighty sword with her bare arms.

The Imperial Magistrate struck her time after time after time and yet none of her hits seemed to have impact.

Eventually she gave up, dropping her sword to the ground, where it burnt into the churned mud beneath.

"I surrender." She whispered, bowing her head and waiting for Mysteria to deal the killing blow.

"Go back to where you came from, Akathriel Yan Yehod Sebaoth." The spirit that had once been Victoria Burke announced. "Leave her and never return."

The Imperial Magistrate looked up, hope suddenly shining in her eyes.

"You mean it?" She whispered, overcome by emotion.

"Leave." Mysteria announced coldly.

Not bothering to collect her sword, the Imperial Magistrate quickly ascended to her crippled fleet, her eight wings beating as swiftly as she could.

A faint blink crossed the glimmering sky and silently the Magistrate's space fleet retreated, hobbling silently back to their point of origin.

Mysteria waited for a moment and then allowed her power to fade once more, her skin colour returning to normal and her hair dropping down into the bedraggled brown mess it had been moments before her transformation.

She slumped forwards, almost hitting the ground save for Michael Manly's quick reaction.

He looked down upon her, smiling softly.

"Fancy meeting you here." He beamed.

"M-Michael?" She questioned. "Michael Manly?"

He nodded, continuing to smile.

"That's right, Victoria."

She closed her eyes, exhausted from her transformation.

"Daddy would be proud." She whispered.

The darkening skies had faded, slowly replaced by a grey early morning dawn.

Anna Romanova sighed with visible relief.

Despite the odds they had made it.

She was uncertain of exactly how they had survived yet it would have been obvious even to one without her ability to detect the presence of superpowered individuals that they had.

Manly was still alive, still suffering and not quite returned from the brink but alive none the less, all he had to do now was accept his place in the scheme of things and agree to the operation.

There were other ways, of course, but she hoped they were paths he would not set foot upon.

Pacific City was in ruins around them yet the overwhelming sense of joy was everywhere. Though many had perished in the Imperial Magistrate's assault on the city, she knew the desire to rebuild was ever present in the human spirit.

But there would be time for that later; first the city had to traverse through a period of grief.

Silently she lit a cigarette, smiling to herself and shaking her head.

"You did it, Michael. I don't know how, but you bloody did it."

A warm smile spread across her face.

Charlie and Shirley Winters examined the wreckage of their helicar, doing their best not to eavesdrop on Pacific City's finest heroes.

They had lost a lot in the battle.

For all their faults Johnny Chambers and Frederic Shostakovich had been their friends.

Silently Shirley Winters reached down and closed her dead brother's eyes.

"Goodnight, Johnny." She whispered.

Charlie Winters watched on silently.

Smiling, despite her tears, Shirley turned and looked at him.

"So what do you think, Charlie? Ready to give this superhero lark a second chance?" She said, sniffling slightly.

He turned and looked at Millennium Man and Mysteria.

"Yeah." He nodded, warming to the idea. "I'd say its about time."

Together they embraced, the sun rising behind them.

On the bridge of the English Rose, the Imperial Magistrate sat quietly, nursing her wounds.

She reflected on the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of Yehovah Vehayah, scowling every time she recalled the girl's transformation.

In her dark eyes, the faintest glimmer of a smile began to shine.

"I'll be back for you." She promised. "Take my word for it."

Several weeks later Michael Manly stood at the grave of his friend, Bruce Todd. His head was freshly shaved from the operation and whilst still uncomfortable, the pain had eased considerably.

He knew how lucky how was and how much of that he owed to the people around.

"I know I'm not you, Bruce." He said silently. "I'm not Henry Burke either but I promise you I'll do my best. I'll make both of you, wherever you are, proud of the name Millennium Man."

The soft footfalls of another awakened him from his melancholia and he turned, just in time to see Victoria Burke place a wreath of flowers at Todd's grave.

She looked up at him and smiled knowingly.

They said nothing but neither did they need to for the expressions in each of their eyes said all that was needed.

She nodded once, rose up and turned away, leaving him alone at the graveside.

Michael Manly shrugged, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"I am Millennium Man." He repeated and turned away.

Behind him, the wind softly gathered the petals of Victoria's flowers and blew them across the calm, peaceful graveyard finally alighting upon a simple grave.

On its great stone rested the solitary legend:

‘Here lies Henry Burke III, beloved father’.

In the distance the birds were beginning to sing once more.

The ordeal was over.