South of Fletcher Bay, on the very edge of Kingsmouth, a large bonfire burned in the front yard of an old, well loved house, which had been hastily fortified with whatever the houses remaining resident could find. Now, that resident, an elderly woman, tired but unbroken, stood in front of the fire, axe in hand. Taking a breath, she swung the axe over and down, splitting her target with the ease of experience. Adjusting her grip, she repeated the action, slightly to the left. Then, a third time.
Before she could strike a fourth time, her ears caught the sound of footsteps, backed up by the faint whine of servomotors. Lowering her axe, she turned to the west, raising an eyebrow at the woman in blue and red power armour walking towards her. Even after recent events, the sight of a superhero in her yard was still rather strange. She recovered quickly enough however, giving the heroine a wry smirk. “I’m guessing you were the one making that godawful racket down the street a few hours ago?”
Returning the smirk with the visible lower half of her face, the woman shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “Met something that needed its face punched in. If I’d known you were over here, I’d have come and apologised about it. Name’s Street Sabre,” she added, holding out a hand.
“Norma,” the older woman replied, returning the handshake. “Norma Creed.” Turning back towards the fire, she raised her axe again. “Helen sent you over to check on me, I reckon,” she mused, swinging the axe down.
“Pretty much,” Street said, seeing no reason to dance around the topic. “Can’t really blame her for worrying about you. Hell, everyone else in town is hiding behind fences and thick walls, but you…” Snorting, she waved a hand at their open surroundings.
Chuckling lightly, Norma rested the axe next to the timber pile. “Well, your concern is wicked kind, but you don’t need to worry. I’ve got my shotgun, I’ve got… what’s left of my wits,” she continued, picking up the weapon in question. “I’ll manage.”
Kneeling down next to the zombies Norma had been chopping apart, Street nodded thoughtfully. “So I see,” she said. “Any problems with these things?” she added, considering the completely dessicated, naked corpses, trying to determine just how long they’d been dead.
Picking up an arm, the old woman laughed bitterly, throwing it onto the fire. “Not so much. You’d think these wet bits would just fizzle on the bonfire, but no, they sparkle like kindling wood,” she mused, watching as the arm burst into flames, skin quickly burning away. “It’s heartening, almost. Dirty work really, but I’m used to it.” Glancing over at the hero, she shrugged slightly. “Fish guts, childbirth, sutures… The dead ain’t as different as you’d think.”
Grabbing a pair of legs, Street Sabre threw them onto the fire, watching them ignite. “Always thought they should be,” she noted, “But yeah, you’re not wrong.” A sudden snarl by her feet caught her attention, and she glanced down to see a decapitated head reanimating, jaw snapping at midair. Grumbling to herself, the woman kicked the head into the fire, where it continued to snarl, even as the flames reduced it to bones.
“So I kill and I chop and I burn,” Norma sighed, glancing towards the street as yet another zombie, this one waterlogged and swollen, stumbled towards the house. “But they never stop coming.” Raising her shotgun, she fired a shot that almost decapitated the creature. “And there’s more of ‘em every day,” she added, pumping the action and taking a breath, her exhaustion showing through for a second. “The old gal ain’t a match for everything that turns up on my doorstep, seems she’s too much for most of it.”
“Makes a hell of a mess of most of them,” the younger woman agreed, kneeling down and picking up a human torso. Pausing, she turned slightly, letting the light from the bonfire illuminate the exposed ribcage, and the smooth wooden thorn that was lodged in the remains of the heart. Frowning thoughtfully, she threw the body onto the fire, watching as, like all the others, it burst into flames. This time however, the flames were a brilliant, unnatural blue.
Looking back in time to see the blue flames, Norma frowned. “Seen that happen a couple times now,” she admitted. “Oddly pretty to watch, but I dunno why they do it.”
Tapping her fingers against the side of her helmet, Street Sabre considered that. “Might have a theory or two… when we flew in, I saw some other fires like that. East of here, on, what’s it called, Pyramid Point?” Norma nodded, and she shrugged slightly. “I figure I’ll head over, see what’s going on.”
Collecting another arm, Norma threw it into the fire, watching as it burned with the same blue flames. “You and yours, you’re looking to find what did all this, I’m thinking?” she asked, not looking away from the bonfire. “I’d say you should start at the pier, with the Lady Margaret. All this hullabaloo started when she came back.” Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a breath, grief and loss flowing out of her. “My husband Larry, the others… We all thought we’d lost them out there, that the sea took ‘em.” The blue flames died away, leaving only the natural fire of burning timber. “Day they came back, whole town could finally breathe again. Never did ask Larry what happened out there, in the weeks they were gone… Been around gift horses long enough not to look ‘em in the mouth. Thought life would go on the way life goes on... “ she said quietly. “But then came that Fog, like it was following them back to shore…”
Turning towards the bay, Street Sabre stared through the Fog, trying to see the fishing trawler, even as Norma stepped up next to her. “When the sun comes out, and the Fog lifts, you can just see her, covered in all that red seaweed,” the local woman said, fighting back tears. “Every time I see her, I wonder, if I’d asked…” Taking a breath, she turned away, returning to the bonfire. “Guess we’ll never know,” she muttered, throwing another head into the inferno.
***
Riot Force Headquarters, Kallisti Wharf, Paragon City
Rubbing at her eyes, Lady of the Peace leaned back in her chair, considering the speakerphone on her desk. Taking a moment for the concept to work its way through her sleep-deprived brain, she closed her eyes. “You want to take a team to Solomon Island, through Agartha,” she said slowly.
“Pretty much,” Sache Hanagawa replied.
From where she was resting on the office couch, Nene Romanova frowned slightly. “Sachie my love, I don’t mean to sound skeptical, but I’ve heard a bit about Agatha. Even if the Bees gave you permission,” she made a face at that oddity, “You can’t just wander the paths and hope for street signs. Even if you found a way back out, which is a big if, there’s no telling where you’d actually be.”
Mika Itos voice came over the phone, clearly amused. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ve arranged for a guide. She’ll meet us inside, get us where we need to go.”
Sitting up, Nene gave the phone a Look. “You have a guide that knows her way around Agartha,” she said, irritation slipping into her voice.
“Yeah,” the younger ninja replied. “She’s as close to a local as you can get without having six legs and a stinger.”
“If she’s a ‘local’,” the Sabre continued, “Why didn’t you ask her to talk to the Bees for you? It sounds like she had less chance of them giving her a stroke.”
“They’re not talking to each other,” Sachie answered.
“All I know is it has something to do with the Bees, Transbelvia and an Egyptian Mummy crime boss,” Mika added, chuckling lightly. “I’m not getting involved in that argument.”
The two Romanova’s looked at each other, before Ifrit sighed and rubbed at her eyes again, nodding at her wife. “All right,” Nene said. “We’ll try and follow up on what they told you. Neko and her team will meet you at the Gateway as soon as they can.” She frowned, concern slipping into her expression. “Just be careful in there.”
“As much as possible,” Sachie replied. “Love you.” And with that, the line went dead.
Groaning, Nene dropped back onto the couch, head bouncing on a cushion. “I love her, but sometimes, I just want to…” she made a strangling motion with her hands, then sighed. “Agartha! You might as well just jump into what’s left of Ouroboros!”
“Now now,” Ifrit chided her, “Even at its worst, the Hollow Earth isn’t nearly as bad as that.” They both fell silent for a moment, remembering Ouroboros, the strange little realm that didn’t quite fit into reality, and the impossibly ancient, guilt driven man that had been its master. Then the Fae shook her head slightly, pulling herself back to the present. “If they do have a guide that can lead them to Solomon Island safely, Agartha should work,” she admitted, long ears twitching thoughtfully. Before she could continue, the intercom on her desk buzzed for attention. “Yes Friday?”
“Boss, General Ironwood is here to see you,” her secretary said. “He says it’s urgent.”
Nene sat up, eyes widening in surprise, while Ifrit raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, send him in,” she said. “And could you let Neko know that they need to meet with Sachie at the Southern IP tram station?”
“Sure thing,” she replied. A moment later, the office door opened to admit a tall, broad-shouldered, middle aged man in a well tailored white suit. The office lights reflected off the small strip of metal above his right eyebrow as he came to a halt in front of the desk and slipped instinctively into parade rest.
“James, what are you doing about at this hour?” Ifrit asked with a smile, standing up to shake his hand.
Taking the hand, General James Ironwood, Commander in Chief of Vanguard, visibly relaxed as he returned the smile. “I’m making an early start,” he admitted. “As always, I’ve simply got too much to do. Besides,” he added thoughtfully, considering his friend for a moment. “At least I’ve managed to get some sleep tonight.”
Standing up from the couch she’d been napping on before Sachies call had woken her, Nene grinned at her wife. “He’s got you there,” she teased, before turning her attention back to Ironwood. “Still, you could have just called. After all, I’m pretty sure you know how to use a phone.” Looking him over for a moment, she smirked. “Hoping for some of Ifrit’s tea?”
“That would be a side benefit,” he replied. Ifrit laughed lightly, walking over to a side table and setting up three tea cups, while the Vanguard Commanders expression become more serious. “Actually, I’m here in response to an information request you filed,” he told the Sabre. Nene blinked slightly, before gesturing for him to take a seat by the coffee table. “Earlier tonight, you requested any information Vanguard might have on creatures called the Draug,” he continued. “Undead, mutated, possibly magic based.” He considered the pair for a moment, even as he took a flash drive out of his pocket. “I’m familiar with them, from my previous command.”
“Vanguards European operations,” Ifrit said with a frown, pouring tea.
Nodding, James placed the flash drive on the table. “To the best of my knowledge, the Draug have never crossed the Atlantic ocean. They’re an occasional problem in places like Iceland, Norway and so on.” His thoughtful scowl faded, replaced by a more thoughtful smile. “Now, while some supergroups can prove forgetful of little details such as informing the appropriate authorities of overseas operations, that has never been Riot Force’s approach. Which suggests the situation with the Draug has changed, considerably.”
The Romanovas glanced at each other for a moment, silently debating the issue, before Ifrit handed the man his tea. “If it is the Draug,” she said, taking a seat. “Right now, we’re still attempting to confirm that. Earlier today, we received a request from Longbow, concerning a possible situation on Solomon Island…”
***
Before she could strike a fourth time, her ears caught the sound of footsteps, backed up by the faint whine of servomotors. Lowering her axe, she turned to the west, raising an eyebrow at the woman in blue and red power armour walking towards her. Even after recent events, the sight of a superhero in her yard was still rather strange. She recovered quickly enough however, giving the heroine a wry smirk. “I’m guessing you were the one making that godawful racket down the street a few hours ago?”
Returning the smirk with the visible lower half of her face, the woman shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “Met something that needed its face punched in. If I’d known you were over here, I’d have come and apologised about it. Name’s Street Sabre,” she added, holding out a hand.
“Norma,” the older woman replied, returning the handshake. “Norma Creed.” Turning back towards the fire, she raised her axe again. “Helen sent you over to check on me, I reckon,” she mused, swinging the axe down.
“Pretty much,” Street said, seeing no reason to dance around the topic. “Can’t really blame her for worrying about you. Hell, everyone else in town is hiding behind fences and thick walls, but you…” Snorting, she waved a hand at their open surroundings.
Chuckling lightly, Norma rested the axe next to the timber pile. “Well, your concern is wicked kind, but you don’t need to worry. I’ve got my shotgun, I’ve got… what’s left of my wits,” she continued, picking up the weapon in question. “I’ll manage.”
Kneeling down next to the zombies Norma had been chopping apart, Street nodded thoughtfully. “So I see,” she said. “Any problems with these things?” she added, considering the completely dessicated, naked corpses, trying to determine just how long they’d been dead.
Picking up an arm, the old woman laughed bitterly, throwing it onto the fire. “Not so much. You’d think these wet bits would just fizzle on the bonfire, but no, they sparkle like kindling wood,” she mused, watching as the arm burst into flames, skin quickly burning away. “It’s heartening, almost. Dirty work really, but I’m used to it.” Glancing over at the hero, she shrugged slightly. “Fish guts, childbirth, sutures… The dead ain’t as different as you’d think.”
Grabbing a pair of legs, Street Sabre threw them onto the fire, watching them ignite. “Always thought they should be,” she noted, “But yeah, you’re not wrong.” A sudden snarl by her feet caught her attention, and she glanced down to see a decapitated head reanimating, jaw snapping at midair. Grumbling to herself, the woman kicked the head into the fire, where it continued to snarl, even as the flames reduced it to bones.
“So I kill and I chop and I burn,” Norma sighed, glancing towards the street as yet another zombie, this one waterlogged and swollen, stumbled towards the house. “But they never stop coming.” Raising her shotgun, she fired a shot that almost decapitated the creature. “And there’s more of ‘em every day,” she added, pumping the action and taking a breath, her exhaustion showing through for a second. “The old gal ain’t a match for everything that turns up on my doorstep, seems she’s too much for most of it.”
“Makes a hell of a mess of most of them,” the younger woman agreed, kneeling down and picking up a human torso. Pausing, she turned slightly, letting the light from the bonfire illuminate the exposed ribcage, and the smooth wooden thorn that was lodged in the remains of the heart. Frowning thoughtfully, she threw the body onto the fire, watching as, like all the others, it burst into flames. This time however, the flames were a brilliant, unnatural blue.
Looking back in time to see the blue flames, Norma frowned. “Seen that happen a couple times now,” she admitted. “Oddly pretty to watch, but I dunno why they do it.”
Tapping her fingers against the side of her helmet, Street Sabre considered that. “Might have a theory or two… when we flew in, I saw some other fires like that. East of here, on, what’s it called, Pyramid Point?” Norma nodded, and she shrugged slightly. “I figure I’ll head over, see what’s going on.”
Collecting another arm, Norma threw it into the fire, watching as it burned with the same blue flames. “You and yours, you’re looking to find what did all this, I’m thinking?” she asked, not looking away from the bonfire. “I’d say you should start at the pier, with the Lady Margaret. All this hullabaloo started when she came back.” Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a breath, grief and loss flowing out of her. “My husband Larry, the others… We all thought we’d lost them out there, that the sea took ‘em.” The blue flames died away, leaving only the natural fire of burning timber. “Day they came back, whole town could finally breathe again. Never did ask Larry what happened out there, in the weeks they were gone… Been around gift horses long enough not to look ‘em in the mouth. Thought life would go on the way life goes on... “ she said quietly. “But then came that Fog, like it was following them back to shore…”
Turning towards the bay, Street Sabre stared through the Fog, trying to see the fishing trawler, even as Norma stepped up next to her. “When the sun comes out, and the Fog lifts, you can just see her, covered in all that red seaweed,” the local woman said, fighting back tears. “Every time I see her, I wonder, if I’d asked…” Taking a breath, she turned away, returning to the bonfire. “Guess we’ll never know,” she muttered, throwing another head into the inferno.
***
Riot Force Headquarters, Kallisti Wharf, Paragon City
Rubbing at her eyes, Lady of the Peace leaned back in her chair, considering the speakerphone on her desk. Taking a moment for the concept to work its way through her sleep-deprived brain, she closed her eyes. “You want to take a team to Solomon Island, through Agartha,” she said slowly.
“Pretty much,” Sache Hanagawa replied.
From where she was resting on the office couch, Nene Romanova frowned slightly. “Sachie my love, I don’t mean to sound skeptical, but I’ve heard a bit about Agatha. Even if the Bees gave you permission,” she made a face at that oddity, “You can’t just wander the paths and hope for street signs. Even if you found a way back out, which is a big if, there’s no telling where you’d actually be.”
Mika Itos voice came over the phone, clearly amused. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ve arranged for a guide. She’ll meet us inside, get us where we need to go.”
Sitting up, Nene gave the phone a Look. “You have a guide that knows her way around Agartha,” she said, irritation slipping into her voice.
“Yeah,” the younger ninja replied. “She’s as close to a local as you can get without having six legs and a stinger.”
“If she’s a ‘local’,” the Sabre continued, “Why didn’t you ask her to talk to the Bees for you? It sounds like she had less chance of them giving her a stroke.”
“They’re not talking to each other,” Sachie answered.
“All I know is it has something to do with the Bees, Transbelvia and an Egyptian Mummy crime boss,” Mika added, chuckling lightly. “I’m not getting involved in that argument.”
The two Romanova’s looked at each other, before Ifrit sighed and rubbed at her eyes again, nodding at her wife. “All right,” Nene said. “We’ll try and follow up on what they told you. Neko and her team will meet you at the Gateway as soon as they can.” She frowned, concern slipping into her expression. “Just be careful in there.”
“As much as possible,” Sachie replied. “Love you.” And with that, the line went dead.
Groaning, Nene dropped back onto the couch, head bouncing on a cushion. “I love her, but sometimes, I just want to…” she made a strangling motion with her hands, then sighed. “Agartha! You might as well just jump into what’s left of Ouroboros!”
“Now now,” Ifrit chided her, “Even at its worst, the Hollow Earth isn’t nearly as bad as that.” They both fell silent for a moment, remembering Ouroboros, the strange little realm that didn’t quite fit into reality, and the impossibly ancient, guilt driven man that had been its master. Then the Fae shook her head slightly, pulling herself back to the present. “If they do have a guide that can lead them to Solomon Island safely, Agartha should work,” she admitted, long ears twitching thoughtfully. Before she could continue, the intercom on her desk buzzed for attention. “Yes Friday?”
“Boss, General Ironwood is here to see you,” her secretary said. “He says it’s urgent.”
Nene sat up, eyes widening in surprise, while Ifrit raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, send him in,” she said. “And could you let Neko know that they need to meet with Sachie at the Southern IP tram station?”
“Sure thing,” she replied. A moment later, the office door opened to admit a tall, broad-shouldered, middle aged man in a well tailored white suit. The office lights reflected off the small strip of metal above his right eyebrow as he came to a halt in front of the desk and slipped instinctively into parade rest.
“James, what are you doing about at this hour?” Ifrit asked with a smile, standing up to shake his hand.
Taking the hand, General James Ironwood, Commander in Chief of Vanguard, visibly relaxed as he returned the smile. “I’m making an early start,” he admitted. “As always, I’ve simply got too much to do. Besides,” he added thoughtfully, considering his friend for a moment. “At least I’ve managed to get some sleep tonight.”
Standing up from the couch she’d been napping on before Sachies call had woken her, Nene grinned at her wife. “He’s got you there,” she teased, before turning her attention back to Ironwood. “Still, you could have just called. After all, I’m pretty sure you know how to use a phone.” Looking him over for a moment, she smirked. “Hoping for some of Ifrit’s tea?”
“That would be a side benefit,” he replied. Ifrit laughed lightly, walking over to a side table and setting up three tea cups, while the Vanguard Commanders expression become more serious. “Actually, I’m here in response to an information request you filed,” he told the Sabre. Nene blinked slightly, before gesturing for him to take a seat by the coffee table. “Earlier tonight, you requested any information Vanguard might have on creatures called the Draug,” he continued. “Undead, mutated, possibly magic based.” He considered the pair for a moment, even as he took a flash drive out of his pocket. “I’m familiar with them, from my previous command.”
“Vanguards European operations,” Ifrit said with a frown, pouring tea.
Nodding, James placed the flash drive on the table. “To the best of my knowledge, the Draug have never crossed the Atlantic ocean. They’re an occasional problem in places like Iceland, Norway and so on.” His thoughtful scowl faded, replaced by a more thoughtful smile. “Now, while some supergroups can prove forgetful of little details such as informing the appropriate authorities of overseas operations, that has never been Riot Force’s approach. Which suggests the situation with the Draug has changed, considerably.”
The Romanovas glanced at each other for a moment, silently debating the issue, before Ifrit handed the man his tea. “If it is the Draug,” she said, taking a seat. “Right now, we’re still attempting to confirm that. Earlier today, we received a request from Longbow, concerning a possible situation on Solomon Island…”
***