New Mages #2
"Perfect Plan 9T6"
(Still Act II)
by Jacob Milnestein

"I am the son, 
and the heir, 
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar. 
I am the son and the heir, 
of nothing in particular."
- Morrissey,
'How Soon Is Now?'

Her fingers coiled around the scarab beetle and tore it free, the robes from about her shoulders falling uselessly in a crumpled heap on the cold floor.

Mikael staggered .

"Te Gladi, Vos Gladias, trea Nomine Sancto, Albrot, Abracadabra, Jehova elico." He gasped desperately, his hands clawing against the floor as he pulled himself back, eyes fixed firmly on the six hateful warriors before him. "Estote meum castellumque praesidium contra omnium hostes, conspicuusque nonconspiccus, in quisque magiceum opum. Nomeno Sancto Saday, qui est in imperium magnum, et his alio nominee: Cados, Cados, Cados, Adonai, Elohi, Zena, Oth, Ochimanuel, primoque ultimo, Sapientia, Via, Vita, Virto, Principio, Oso, Oratie, Splendoro, Luce, Sol, Fono, Gloria, Mono, Porta, Vite, Lape, Scipio, Sacredo, Pravo, Messiah, Gladi in omnium meum negotia regnas et in illos res quem me resistunt, vincite. Amen."

Nothing happened. His eyes widened in further terror as the scarab-bearer closed her eyes, hands wrapping around the beetle. One of the younger of her companions yawned and smiled, his dishevelled hair falling down over his eyes. Languidly he moved forwards, whispering into the ear of his accursed raven winged princess.

The scarab beetle exploded in flame, a burning blade spring forth and the beetle itself was transformed into a fiery handle.

The evil one smiled and looked at him.

"I do invocate, conjure, and command thee, O thou Spirit Yehovah Vehayah, to appear and to show thyself visibly unto me before this Circle in fair and comely shape, without any deformity or tortuosity; by the name and in the name of Iah and Vau, which Adam heard and spoke: and by the name of God, Agla, which Lot heard and was saved with his family; and by the name Ioth, which Jacob heard from the angel wrestling with him, and was delivered from the hand of Esau his brother; and by the name Anaphaxeton which Aaron heard and spake and was made wise; and by the name Asher Ehyeh Oriston, which Moses named and all the rivers brought forth frogs, and they ascended into houses, destroying all things; and by the name Elion, which Moses named, and there was great hail such as had not been seen since the beginning of the world; and by the name of Adonai, which Moses named, and there came up locusts, which appeared upon the whole land, and devoured all which the hail had left; and by the name Schema Amathia which Ioshua called upon, and the sun stayed his course; and by the name Alpha and Omega, which Daniel named and destroyed Bel and slew the Dragon; and in the name Emmanuel, which the three children, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, sang in the midst of fiery furnace and were delivered."

The scarab bearer's hair flickered and her skin began to pale. Mikael shook his head slowly, tears standing in his eyes and whispered:

"No, please no.please save me, mother, please."

The raven princess smiled and continued regardless.

"I do exorcise and command thee, by the four beasts before the throne, having eyes before and behind; by the holy angels of God."

Light exploded from the scarab-bearer, her countenance shining as powerful as the sun itself. The raven princess' warriors turned away, unable to endure the burning power of the transformation. The princess never once blinked.

"I do potently exorcise and command thee that thou appearest here to fulfil my will in all things which seem good unto me. Wherefore, come thou, visibly, peaceably, and affably, now, without delay, to manifest that which I desire, speaking with a clear and perfect voice, intelligibly, and to mine understanding."

The scarab bearer rose into the air and the floor beneath her twisted, metal plates combined and flattened in a depressed circular pattern. Her hair danced wildly and winds gathered within the confines of the small lunar base. The air was alive with static electricity, the sheer power of the scarab preparing to unleash itself.

Mikael shook his head from side to side; tears streaming softly down his cheeks. The scarab bearer hung in the air for a moment and then there was a tremendous explosion of force and body burnt with ethereal flame. Her skin turned as white as snow as did her hair. The costume burnt away from her and revealed upon the exposed flesh of her stomach were words in a language that Mikael had no mastery of.

She opened her eyes and they were completely black.

The wind died down and slowly she placed her feet on the ground once more. She was completely naked but for the words burnt into her flesh.

"I am Yehovah Vehayah, Enoch made divine." She announced, her voice thunderous and thoroughly lacking in even the faintest humanity.

"I am Mikael, highest of the Malachim, brother of Gabriel, Shatqiel, Baradiel, Shachaqiel, Baraqiel and Sidriel, once servant of her omnipresent majesty, Akathriel Yan Yehod Sebaoth." He answered, summoning all his courage.

Vehayah looked down at him, neither of them aware that they had slipped instantly into conversing within the Enochian language from the moment of the scarab bearer's transformation.

"I know Akathriel and am displeased with her actions." The bearer announced. "Why then do you choose to scorn me by association?"

Mikael crawled further back.

"No scorn is intended, great Methattron, highest of all the holy Sefiroth. I beg forgiveness if I have displeased thee."

"I grant thee not forgiveness." The scarab bearer said in an aloft voice. "Instead I grant thee destruction."

She raised the mighty burning blade and Mikael squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that there was no way that he could match her strength. The clash of weapons resounded through the room and Mikael instinctively opened his eyes once more.

Standing over him was Black Star, holding the scarab bearer's burning sword back with his astro-staff. He glanced over his shoulder at Mikael and smiled confidently then turned to face the scarab bearer and, with eyes hungry for conflict, said:

"Get thee behind me, Satan."

* * *

Four Weeks Earlier...

"And that's the problem with Hiwwa and Hiija. If the two sons of bitches hadn't run off to Enoch with their dream and had instead gone straight to Shemhazai and Azazel then maybe those dumb-asses would have survived the Flood." He paused, drew in a breath for dramatic flair and smiled as he replaced his cigar between his pale teeth. "So there you have it, kid. Never send a giant to do the work of an ordinary Joe."

Michael Manly blinked.

The man sitting next to him sat content and continued to puff on his cigar, occasionally flicking his ash into a small, metal ashtray on the table before them but other wise showing no sign that he actually required a response from Manly.

The former Millennium Man blinked again and assured himself of his surroundings. He turned back to the man with his cigar.

"Excuse me," Michael began, his voice awkward. "But are you aware that you're, ah."

The other turned and glared at him with the deep black holes of his eye sockets as cigar smoke rose up inside of him and escaped through them, rising ever gently towards the ceiling.

"Dead?" He completed Manly's sentence for him. "Look at me, Joe. I'm a fricking skeleton smoking a cigar of course I'm," He paused and made quotation marks with the fleshless digits of his hands. "'Aware that I'm dead'."

"Oh." Manly nodded, pretending to understand.

The skeleton was wearing a blue crushed velvet suit, white shirt with ruffled sleeves and gold coloured silk cravat and, from the looks of it, Manly could only deduce that he must have had his skull polished fairly recently.

He opened his mouth to ask a second question and then thought better of it. The skeleton turned and glared at him and Manly quickly closed his mouth again, aware that he was beginning to look like a fish.

The door of the inner office opened and the nervous secretary appeared once more, her blonde hair tied in a neat bun atop her head.

"Mayor Romanov will see you now, gentlemen." She said hesitantly.

The skeleton clicked his teeth together in the absence of being able to wink and pointed a thin digit in the woman's direction. She blushed and quickly disappeared behind her desk.

Unintentionally they both stood up together and Manly turned to face the other with a questioning expression on his face.

The skeleton shrugged.

"What's your problem, Joe? You think the dead are good enough to be superheroes, is that it?" He demanded.

Manly stood wordless, uncertain of how to respond. The dead man glared at him once more with his empty eye sockets and then strolled over to the large doors from which the secretary had emerged. Manly followed mutely behind, crossing over the threshold and inside Cliff Jerrod's former office, recently repaired after Bush43's conflict with the previous mayor.

Erlend Romanov rose from behind the desk, a cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth. He was dressed in black trousers and a simple white shirt and loosely tied black tie. The top button of the shirt was undone and the sleeves were rolled up, perhaps in mimicry of the casual style in which Jerrod used to wear his suit, Manly reflected. Perhaps.

Standing awkwardly behind the new, self-appointed mayor was Commissioner Jordan, the chief of police, his ruddy cheeks now pale and beads of sweat on his forehead.

Romanov smiled and stood up, offering his hand first to the skeleton and then to Manly himself.

"Thanks for coming, gents." He smiled, the cigarette miraculously remaining where it was. He turned towards the awkward looking police chief. "Barry, this is Doctor Creep, he's a representative of the Mages of America." He turned and looked at Manly. "And this here fine specimen of self-confidence is good old Michael Manly who, as I'm sure you know, is Millennium Man."

Manly's face paled completely, his heart beating suddenly faster in his chest.

"Y-Yes, I know...Miss. Burke told us...when...when we were preparing the Siege Engine programme." Barry Jordan said in a slow, terrified whisper, pulling at the collar of his uniform with dread.

Doctor Creep slumped into one of the chairs facing the mayor's desk and inhaled deeply from his cigar, looking Michael up and down.

"So you're the new Millennium Man are you, Joe?" The old mage questioned.

Manly felt sick. Everything he had worked for had suddenly dissipated, turned to dust by the casual fashion in which Romanov had introduced him. Shaking, he reached for the chair next to the skeleton and sat down, his knuckles white as he clasped the arms of the chair.

"I...I was." He stammered. "B-But I'm not anymore."

He felt sick as he remembered the 'treatment' that Tage had administered him within the cold walls of the asylum. The sheer crippling force that had torn pieces of his very self away and cast them into the abyss, never to be reclaimed. He held onto the chair, his knuckles turning white.

"He is Millennium Man." Romanov said in a dangerous whisper.

"I'm not Millennium Man!" He shouted suddenly. "After what those bastards did to me, sometimes I can't even think straight." His voice trailed off. "I can't be Millennium Man.I don't have any powers."

Romanov removed the cigarette from his mouth, flicking ash into the already over-crowded ashtray as he did.

"You are Millennium Man." He stated coldly, offering no more explanation than that.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"Listen, Mister Mayor, if all we're going to talk about is whether Joe here is or isn't Hank's successor then I wouldn't mind being excused." Doctor Creep announced, a note of agitation rising in his voice.

Romanov turned to him with a smile.

"Sorry, Doctor, and right you are," He smiled and walked behind his desk, turning his back to them and looking out over Pacific City. "We've got a lot to talk about." He glanced over his shoulder at them and smiled disarmingly. "As I'm sure you're aware there's been a little bit of noise from the Australian government as to the circumstances in which I elected myself as mayor."

Jordan coughed politely and Creep pulled an expression that was the nearest thing to smiling he could execute, despite an absence of muscles or, indeed, flesh.

"Yeah, I saw that, the whole things all over CNN, BBC, all the news channels are loving you right now." Creep said, placing the cigar between his teeth again. "They say they're giving you another forty-eight hours to get out before they come in here and kick you out." He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Your own Prime Minster looks slightly pale whenever he's asked to comment on the matter. Is there something you ain't telling us, Joe?"

Romanov smiled widely and turned back to them.

"There's a lot I'm not telling you." He replied. "But that's besides the point. Obviously the Australians aren't too pleased about me moving into Pacific City and so, if I'm going to stay, and I do plan on staying, then I'm going to need to build some defence force for this city."

Creep shook his head sadly.

"I can see where this is going." He said.

"Hear me out a minute." Romanov continued. "We can't instigate change without time. In order to get that time we're going to have to explain this using tools," He glanced briefly at Manly. "Tools that the people will understand."

Manly looked bewildered, watching the Englishman and the dead man converse as if they were speaking in some foreign language. Over the days since Alhazred's fall and the destruction of the Siege Engine, he had asked many times just what it was that made Romanov and his pale sister so special that they could simply assume control of the city. He spent countless nights lying at Regina's side and staring up at the strange ceiling of her bedroom.

Sometimes he thought about his misguided encounter with Julia, and at other times he thought of the city he had once sworn to protect. Despite the destruction of the asylum, Romanov had made sure he continued taking his medication, a vile combination of lithium and Prozac that more often than not made him feel nauseous than content.

He had become depressed since the loss of his powers, more so than after Finnegan's death. It was as if after the deaths of Demerite and Prentice he had gained a new understanding of death. They had learnt to understand each other, Death and Michael Manly, grown into one another and now, without his powers, it felt as if he wasn't needed anymore.

In addition to the depression came the crippling headaches and the absence of mind, Tage's gift to him.

"And so you're going to found a superhero team." The dead man's voice announced over his thoughts.

He looked up, suddenly interested again.

Romanov nodded, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Exactly." He hissed. "If we unite Pacific City's costumed heroes then we can sit out whatever kind of siege the Australian government or even the United Nations choose to throw at us and of course, it'll make them think twice about using the military against us."

Creep nodded and looked as thoughtful as an expressionless skull could.

"And what if they just parachute a load of supervillains into the city? Hell, what if they send in another superhero team - one of the big American ones like the Seven?"

Romanov continued to meet the dark empty eye sockets of the other's face, unblinking.

"Then we kill them." He responded.

* * *

"So what do you make of it?"

He glanced over his shoulder, a knowing smile crossing his face and causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle slightly.

"As I have explained before, Mister Carter, it is not my place to make anything of it." He answered as turned back to where he crouched over the flower bed, his eyes shadowed by the wide brimmed and decidedly undignified straw hat he had chosen to wear.

Jeffery Carter stood behind him, anxiously moving his weight from foot to foot and brushing the odd fly away from his face.

"You must have some kind of opinion on the matter though." Carter insisted. "I mean its not the kind of thing that you can remain neutral on, is it?"

Alfonse Saint Libatique straightened his back and rose from where he stood, turning slowly to face his young companion. Carter tried to keep a straight face as he took in the combination of yellow rubber gloves, straw hat and dirtied apron that the elusive butler wore over his suit. In his right hand was a small three pronged garden implement with a decidedly mundane name and his left was a reluctant weed, its roots still clinging to chunks of soil.

"I'm afraid I gave up on having opinions on such matters long before you were born, Jeffery. To begin now would be tiresome at best."

"So you don't care about some villain just walking in off of the streets and setting himself up as mayor?" Carter continued, his tone becoming angry at the older man's perceived apathy in regards to the matter.

"Think who you're talking to, Jeffery." Alfonse warned. "Don't you think it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to accuse a person of being a 'villain' simply because the government of the country within which they operated deemed their motives a danger to society? In fact, unless my memory is afflicted, and it often is at my age," He looked at Carter with that familiar sarcastic smile of his. "Then haven't you only recently been released from a top security asylum after being defined as a villain by the previous mayor?"

"That's different." Carter protested.

"How?" The butler interrupted him.

The younger man stood in front of him for a moment or two and made open-mouthed fish expressions but said nothing.

Alfonse nodded as if the matter was settled and turned back to his gardening.

* * *

Regina Darling felt awkward inside, her stomach turning with anxiety and concern. She turned the pages of her book, tapped another cigarette on the gold and white carton and then, glancing once more at the vehement no smoking sign, slid it back in place.

The door opened and Manly appeared, his face looking drawn and haggard. She stood up instinctively and almost dropped her book.

"How is she?" 

He looked up at her, tired and sad.

"She...doesn't remember me." He answered sadly.

Ice shattered in her stomach.

"Oh Jesus, I'm sorry, Michael." She began.

He waved the sentence off and together they began to walk, pushing through the double doors of reception and back into one of St. Jude's many long corridors.

Rebecca Manly had been committed to St. Jude's psychiatric ward shortly after Jon's death whilst her older son had been imprisoned in Alhazred. The doctors had said that it was her inability to come to terms with the deaths of her husband and youngest son that had caused her to sink to such lows. They had suggested ECT as a possible course of action should stronger medication not work to which Michael had begun to shake visibly. The horror of that dreaded house had taken its toll on the man she loved. The familiar doubt and guilt was upon him more often than not and yet somehow it had changed. He seemed to acknowledge that he was, or at least had been Millennium Man and he understood now that he was the same person with or without the costume but the power of that understanding was lost.

It was as if, having finally come to terms with his role as Pacific City's guardian, the gifts with which he served the city had been cruelly taken away. In many ways she was just happy to have him back, thankful that, despite all the things that must have happened to him in Alhazred, he was still the same man she had fallen in love with. If only he would talk about what happened to him then maybe she could help but Regina Darling was no fool and she knew that all healing took time and patience.

They reached the glass doors at the far end of reception and stepped outside in silence, relief playing across his face as he exited the hospital. Still she said nothing, fumbling instead for her keys within her purse and trying to remember where her car was parked.

Manly stopped abruptly and she nearly walked into him.

She looked up, angry at first and then worried as she saw the expression of concern on his face.

"What is it, Michael?" She asked.

He looked away.

"I spoke to the mayor about this superhero team again today." He began.

Regina's face flushed with anger.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Hear me out, Regina." He whispered, his voice dull. "You remember when we first spoke with Romanova after...after Jerrod's death?"

She placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"Yes, I remember. I told her - or it or whatever - that she was crazy then and I'm more than happy to tell her again. All that rubbish about getting your powers back, she can't promise you that, no one can." Regina said angrily, deep lines upon her forehead formed in the shape of a severe frown.

"She also said I should trust her." Michael reminded his agitated girlfriend.

"And you're just going to drop everything and put your faith in someone you hardly know, is that it, Michael?"

He clenched his fists and tried to reign in his anger.

"Jesus Christ, Regina, can I not do anything right? Ever since I got out of that hellhole you've been on my back about one thing or another, just give it a rest, please."

Regina Darling's expression darkened and her eyes seemed to swell slightly.

"Oh, I'll bloody give it a rest, Michael Manly, if you carry on talking to me like that."

"Christ!" He shouted out loud attracting the attention of the entire car park. "Can't you just leave it be?"

"No, I bloody well can't!" She screamed in reply. "What the hell happened to you in there, Michael? What is it that you're not telling me?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again suddenly, slowly turning away.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I didn't mean to shout."

Her anger faded and she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Its alright. You can talk to me, you know?"

He nodded.

"I know." Came his whispered reply.

* * *

"Your, ah, predecessor placed great faith in the Siege Engine." Lewis Sommers said nervously.

"Yes." Romanov mused absently. "That's why he's dead."

He turned, looking away from the wreckage of the Engine; his half-moon glasses perched on the end of his nose and his hands held tightly behind his back.

"What else have you got?" He asked abruptly.

Sommers sputtered, his mind desperately grasping for something with which to appease Pacific City's new self-appointed mayor.

"N-Nothing, I'm afraid, sir. I know that Mister Lansing, before he left the company, was developing a prototype suit that utilised some of the advances the Engine had made in mechanical."

Romanov waved him off with a simple gesture and began walking, examining the long production lines and the various men who gathered around the felled Siege Engine.

"I'm not interested in the Siege Engine, it's a failure." He said brusquely.

"B-But if the Engine were to be mass-produced then."

"Then we could have a Siege Engine in every home, yes I know." Romanov interjected. "But a million Siege Engines won't be enough to stop Millennium Man."

A slight frown crossed Sommers' youthful features.

"But Millennium Man is powerless now, sir.I read your report."

Romanov didn't even turn to look at him.

"Not that Millennium Man, you idiot. I'm talking about other Millennium Men, the extra-dimensional kind."

Lewis Sommers' jaw dropped open and, with horrifying realisation, it suddenly dawned upon him that he was in way over his head.

"If I were to bring you an alien technological artefact would you be able to do anything with it?" Romanov questioned, slowly turning his gaze from the decimated Siege Engine and fixing Sommers with an inquisitive stare. "Hypothetically, of course." He smiled dangerously.

Sommers pulled at his collar, sweat dribbling down his forehead.

"H-Hypothetically it would depend on how advanced the technology was.and w-what its purpose was."

Romanov's smile darkened.

"The purpose, Mister Sommers, would be to exterminate anyone who dared stand in the way of progress."

"On what scale are we talking, sir?" Sommers asked nervously.

Romanov revealed his full mouth of teeth and laughed slightly.

"On a global scale, of course." He answered.

There was silence aside from the heavy pounding of Sommers' heart ringing loudly in his ears.

"We could try." He whispered, his lips dry and his legs shaking.

"That's all I ask of you, Mister Sommers." The mayor nodded. "In four weeks time we're going to change the world and you, my friend, are going to be integral to that change. Be prepared."

Sommers nodded mutely and watched as Mayor Erlend Romanov turned and walked without another word from the room. The towering wreck of the original Siege Engine looked down at him with its corrupted, accusing features and Lewis Sommers felt the first stirrings of guilt. He dropped his head and stared at his feet. 

The Siege Engine continued to watch him with its black, unseeing eyes.

* * *

"I quite like Mexican. I mean Thai isn't bad or anything and I've definitely got nothing against Thai girls if you know what I'm saying but I really think Mexican is a good option for today. I'm in the mood for spicy," He paused, his lips curling at the corners. "Hombre."

Alfonse turned and glared at his young ward.

"Please, Mister Carter, if you could refrain from talking about your stomach for just one moment then I would be very much in your debt. In case you hadn't noticed, I am trying to listen."

Jeffery Carter folded his arms across his chest and leant back against the oven and smiled broadly at the older man standing just out of sight of the kitchen doorway.

"Eavesdrop you mean."

"Call it what you will, the fact remains that I'm trying to listen to the conversation."

Carter pushed off against the oven and joined Alfonse at the door.

"Who is she talking with anyway?" He asked casually.

"His name is Ling, a contemporary and equal of the Silver Shadow if rumour is to be believed."

"God I hate that guy." Carter said through gritted teeth.

Alfonse raised an eyebrow.

"Whom? Ling or the Silver Shadow?"

"The Shadow." Jeffery explained. "The guy's a jackass. Seriously arrogant and shit."

"Well I wouldn't worry about running into him anytime soon, Jeffery because it doesn't appear he's amongst us anymore."

Carter felt an awful twang of guilt.

"He's dead?" He asked quietly.

"No, just absent which, I suspect, is what our friend Mister Ling is here in regards to."

"Oh." Carter said with a frown. "So you think this guy's here because of the Shadow's absence, yeah?"

"That is exactly what I think. Now please, if you could find it in your heart, I implore you to shut up.otherwise I will kill you." The aging butler smiled at his own words. "And I can assure you, Mister Carter that I don't have the same qualms about needless death as you do."

Both Ling and Victoria rose from their respective seats and shook hands, Victoria glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen with a scowl.

Alfonse turned away quickly leaving Carter standing alone in plain view of the doorway. 

"Is there anything I can help you with, Jeffery?" Victoria asked, her voice cold and dangerous.

Carter opened his mouth once or twice before he remembered his original reason for being in the kitchen.

"Erm...food." He finally announced and smiled. "Mexican or Thai, I'm gunning for Mexican myself.well not literally gunning because that would be wrong. I mean, I know there's a problem with illegal immigration in America but that's just nasty."

"Neither." Victoria growled hastily, interrupting him before he verged even further from the topic. "But thank you for the offer none the less."

Carter smiled broadly. Progress at last. Fair enough, her attitude was still threatening but now it was less of a mad psychotic kind of threatening and more of a perturbed and caffeine deprived schoolteacher kind of threatening and this was something that Jeffery Carter viewed as a step up in their relationship.

"No problem." He beamed in response and turned away. "Give us a shout if you change your mind though." He called out.

Alfonse glowered as he walked past and Jeffery Carter simply winked and began to hum the theme tune of The A-Team to himself.

* * *

Lord Omega waited patiently at the kitchen table, his liver spotted hands moving slowly as he idly turned a used fork between two of his fingers and waited.

After the collapse of Alhazred Asylum he had been forced to track down his erstwhile son, now a man in his own right and the head of his own family. It had been awkward at first, an exchange of tears, apologies and regrets but after everything he had seen in the last days of that dark house, Omega was more than content to abandon his erstwhile lifestyle as a supervillain. Coupled with the terrifying presence that Romanov brought with him and the old man was in real hurry to resume his former career. The world had changed and, whilst people such as Charles Winters had managed to prevent themselves from aging this was definitely not a secret that Omega was privy to.

He sighed sadly and looked down at his hands, old and withered by age and a life spent primarily within the dank walls of Screwtape Downs and Alhazred. He had wasted everything he was ever given. A small tear formed at the corner of his eye and hastily he blinked it away.

The back door opened and slammed shut with the sound of feet moving swiftly through the short dividing corridor towards the kitchen. Omega tried not to look too startled, remaining with his back to the door and the dishevelled youth that all but fell through the doorway.

"Did it work?" He asked casually.

The youth pushed an oil stained hand back through his thick black hair and smiled exuberantly.

"Oh yeah. It worked."

Lord Omega smiled to himself and turned slowly to the face the young man.

The boy was in his early 20s, no older than 21, messy black hair falling over his hazel eyes and a small tuft of hair at the end of his chin marking a poor excuse for a beard. He wore a one-piece brown boiler suit stained by oil, grease and break fluid, which was fitting, due to his occupation as a mechanic. On the chest of the boiler suit was a small control panel lifted from a guitar amplifier and on his back was what appeared to be two, dirt and pigeon shit stained silver cylinders, joined together in a fashion that made them clumsier than they really needed to be.

Omega smiled proudly at his grandson and looked down at the large cylindrical helmet the boy cradled beneath his right arm.

"I thought of a name!" He exclaimed proudly.

Omega raised an eyebrow.

"Jet-Bastard!" The boy proclaimed, his eyes wide with exhilaration.

The old man's eyebrows simply lifted themselves slightly higher.

"Don't you think you should maybe consider a more conventional name?" He asked.

The boy stepped closer, placing the helmet down on the dining table with a heavy thud. 

"What do you mean?" He asked with a frown.

Omega shrugged in a single over-exaggerated gesture of exasperation.

"Well, I don't know. Rocketman perhaps - that would be fitting."

The boy shook his head.

"Uh-uh. You're not catching me out with that one. That's the name of an Elton John song, I'm not going to go out there and have people shouting out lines from Pinball Wizard at me."

"Oh." Omega said, bewildered. "I must confess to being thankfully ignorant of Elton John's back catalogue."

The boy smirked.

"Freddie Mercury wasn't but that's besides the point. I've heard enough Elton John songs all my life thanks to family holidays and my dad's music taste to know that I'm not going to call myself Rocketman."

Another sharp pang of regret slid into Omega's side as he realised that he knew nothing of his own son's, let alone his grandson's, tastes. He winched and tried to hide, although not before the younger boy had noticed.

"Are you okay, granddad?" He asked, suddenly nervous.

Omega nodded vigorously and waved the boy away. 

"I'm fine, really I am. Just promise me you won't tell your parents what you're doing and for God's sake don't tell them where you got that jet pack or I'll be out on the street."

Despite the humour there was a faint sense of worry in his voice.

"Its okay, I understand. They'd flip if they knew I'd dropped out of college for this."

The old man nodded his head slowly.

"So...Jet-Bastard.." He said awkwardly. "What are you planning as your first act as a superhero?"

The boy smiled broadly.

"I'm going to introduce myself to the mayor and join his special fighting team that everyone's been talking about but no one's supposed to know about." He said with pride.

Lord Omega's face paled.

"Be careful, son." He whispered, his voice shaky. "Promise me you won't do anything to anger Romanov."

"Of course I won't." The boy shrugged casually.

Omega's decrepit old hand shot out and took a hold of the boy's wrist, dragging him so close that he could smell the old man's breath mints.

"I mean it. Romanov is not someone to be trifled with. Be careful."

He released his grip on the boy and watched as the younger man nearly fell flat on his behind. The old man kept his eyes focused on the other's, the intensity of his stare suddenly adding weight to his position as a retired supervillain.

"Okay," He whispered. "I-I'll be careful."

The intensity of the old man's gaze faded.

"That's all I ask." He replied, turning his head away. "Now go and clean yourself up, Jet-Bastard.before your mother kills me for allowing you to bring those filthy overalls into the kitchen."

The boy smiled again, uncertainty faded and he scooped the helmet from the table.

"Back in five." He beamed and vanished into the living room and up the stairs. 

Lord Omega shook his head in amusement and tried not to focus on whether it was entirely ethical introducing such a young boy to his much-maligned experimental jet pack. Whatever the actual morality of the situation it was too late now. The damage was done and the boy, for better or worse, was on the path to herodom.

Sadly Lord Omega closed his eyes and tried not to think of all the ghosts at the corner of his mind.

* * *

"In a few weeks time an aggressive extra-dimensional superhero team will hit the British installation of Moonbase Churchill and attempt to cross over from the moon to Pacific City."

The four gathered Science Heroes watched him with intent eyes, the fifth - Lin Tsang Hsia standing at the back of the room with her teacher, Charles Ling as he translated Romanov's English into Mandarin for the girl.

"We will intercept them shortly after they arrive by using the umbilical cord that ties the moonbase to the orbiting space-station." The mayor continued. "It is imperative that we stop them from reaching Pacific City otherwise everything we have worked for will be useless."

Albert Weisz's son, Johann looked anxiously around the room before finally resting his eyes on the sincere expression wrote large upon the mayor's face.

"Is there any reason why we've got to stop them? I mean there are other heroes more into this whole global good stuff aren't there?" He asked uncertainly.

Romanov nodded.

"They are but none of them are particularly concerned about the fate of Pacific City - in fact more than a few would be quite happy to see this city reduced to dust and ash. The other reason being that these rogue Science Heroes pose a threat specifically to us." He paused, waiting for Ling to catch up with his translation. "They call themselves the New Mages and they are, to a degree."

Confusion crossed the faces of the assembled occupants.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, believe me but there is no other way."

Silence filled the room.

"How exactly are we planning on reaching the moon?" Victoria asked.

"I'll take care of that." Romanov announced with a smile. "Seeing as I'll be joining you on this little trip its only fitting that I help you reach your destination."

"Can't we at least try to reason with them?" Manly asked with hesitation.

Romanov offered him a warm, parental smile.

"Trust me, Michael, these particular would be heroes have long since traversed the point where reasoning is an acceptable course of action. They are single minded in their hatred of this timeline and of you four in particular. In their world you never existed and the Bowler soon decimated their world. They blame you for that and will not think twice about killing you where you stand." He paused and looked each one of them in the eye. "None of them cares for the safety of our Earth or of Pacific City. To them we are simply another resource to be sucked dry in their never-ending destruction of all  timelines that don't fit into their own small-minded view of things. They are thoroughly unrepentant and dedicated to the reconstruction of their own empire."

Again silence drifted heavily over the room.

"Then they are to be killed?" Charles Ling asked from the far end of the room.

Romanov fixed his eyes on the old man.

"Yes, every last one of them. I wish there was another way but there isn't." He sighed as if in pain. "This is why I've asked you here today and why I've contacted you all and various other operatives within Pacific City such as the esteemed Doctor Creep."

Manly was the first to nod his agreement.

"If there's no other way then I'll do whatever I can to protect the city." He paused, uncertain once more. "Even if I'm not sure how I can really help."

"Trust me, Michael," Romanov said with sincerity. "All other paths have been exhausted. I wish It didn't come down to a confrontation but the horrible truth of the matter is that it does."

Jeffery Carter sat on his hands. Romanov glanced over at him and could see the discomfort he wore openly on his face about being trapped in a room with no secret identity to hide by. 

"I'm not sure I buy this." He said finally. "I mean just because they're intent on busting heads down here doesn't mean we've got to kill them does it?" He looked Romanov in the eyes, his expression almost imploring without wishing to be so. "Seriously though, you built Alhazred Asylum so that should at least suggest that we don't have to kill these guys. We could just knock them all out and drop them off at ECPO or something."

Romanov folded his hands into a pyramid and focused his attention entirely on Carter.

"Aside from the fact that ECPO are funded by the Australian government and at present the government aren't on talking terms with us. We can't rely on the government; we can't rely on the UN. For the time being it's just us and until we can prove to the world how important and beneficial our new order is then it's going to remain as just us. I know its not fair on any of you, I know its asking a lot but we really have very little time before we're absorbed back into Australia. Its important to me that before that happens we prove our point and, in doing so, we change the world."

"And what are you planning on calling this new superhero team?" Weisz asked, a slight hint of sarcasm and disinterest in his voice.

A patient smile crossed Romanov's face.

"We're the New Mages of course." He answered, much to the confusion of everyone around him. "And that's another reason why it's important that we defeat these rogue heroes. They are our equals and our competition and if we lose, it will be them that inherit our place in the history books."

Weisz turned the idea around his mind for a while and then eventually pushed off against the wall, righting himself.

"Okay. I'm in." He said simply.

Romanov nodded slowly and looked around the room both Manly and Burke nodded their acceptance but said nothing, much as Romanov had expected.

"I'm in," Carter said hesitantly. "But I'm not convinced."

"You don't have to be convinced, man, you just need to stand in front of the enemy guns so the more talented of us don't get shot." Weisz sneered.

Carter clenched his fists but said nothing.

Romanov's eyes rested on Lin Tsang Hsia.

"And what of our little vigilante from Shaolin?" He asked in Mandarin, his smile growing ever more inappropriate.

The young girl opened her mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by her master.

"She'll join." Ling growled, also slipping back into his native tongue. "But only because you leave us no other choice."

Romanov's eyes glinted.

"That's good enough for me." He hinted before reiterating in English: "Then its decided. We're all together in this." He rose from his chair and looked at each of them in turn. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the New Mages."

Outside the moon hung heavy in the sky above Pacific City, a warning to each and every one of them.