Superhero Adventures, UK Style

A Week Ago

The two Mary’s gathered in the hangar with Max. It was waaay too early for young Mary who was still yawning and trying to drink the cappuccino that Jeeves had prepared for her. Max had just discovered that the two Mary’s would be travelling to Dublin securely sealed inside the cage inside the Raft and not being entertained by his superb piloting skills and as such was grumpy.

Adam had gone through the pre-flight checks and fueling, wished them well then crawled back to his bed. Last night Annie had confirmed Colm’s location in a hospice in Dublin and had contacted the staff to get permission for the Mary’s (as distant family) to visit and spend some time with him. Mary had thought it likely that they’d only be gone for 24 hours at most so was surprised when young Mary had packed several days’ worth of clothes regardless. Survival habit apparently; always be prepared, just in case.

The Raft took off and coasted to the Irish Sea. Within ten minutes of leaving the coast Max asked permission to see what ‘this old crate could do’. Mary was also interested in exactly how much fine tuning and modification to the engine Adam and Mikey had carried out and agreed.

Two seconds later the two women were pressed deep into their seats as the raft accelerated.  Another couple of seconds and – “Woowew! Damn that I never expected… Ladies we are currently exceeding Mach 1!”

Young Mary looked surprised. “How fast is that exactly?”  Max laughed “We’re currently reaching 1,600 kph, speed of sound is 1,235 kmh.” “Why didn’t we hear a sonic boom, don’t you create one when you break the sound barrier?” “We did, unfortunately we’re going too fast to hear our own boom. Hang fast I’m going to need to decelerate. We’re about to enter Irish airspace and they will not be happy at us doing Mach 1.3 over houses… Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belt is correctly fastened… we should be over the hospital in a few minutes.”

Max set down in the grounds and pulled out a well-thumbed book obviously expecting to be stuck out here by himself. No chance. Young Mary grabbed his arm and laughing pulled him with her towards the entrance. It took about ten minutes and a few forms (as well as Mary using her HCP status) before they were directed to a bright, cheerful room and an elderly man sitting in a seat surrounded by photographs. “Colm MacCarty? Could you spare a moment to talk?” Max however dashed into the room and almost grabbed at a photo frame before restraining himself. “May I?” he picked it up and passed it to young Mary. “So you knew the Irish Unity, ah the Aontacht Éire team is that right? When? Sorry that was rude…”

Colm spoke quietly but firmly. “Not at all, I used to work for them. I took part in the Easter Riot in 1919 an’ was, was arrested by Chri’ I mean the original Illustrious of the first Aontacht Éire. Anyway, I found myself helping him to rescue civilians caught up in the riots. Illustrious testified at my trial and as a result I ended up with a reduced sentence. On coming out of Gaol, he knew as an ex-con I would have trouble finding employment so I was extremely grateful when the Aontacht Éire offered me a job as caretaker of their Dublin base. Stayed with them until the 60’s when I retired. The teams have all been extremely kind to an old man… So who are you then?”

He squinted slightly and stared at the older Mary. “You remind me of my old auntie. You’re the spitting image of the old lady. Are you by any chance related?”

Mary quickly thought through her options and decided against declaring herself a “para-twin” to his version of herself or whatever and instead went with “we’re distantly related. This young lady may be an even closer relation. I think she might be your great grand-daughter..?” He smiled and insisted on giving both of them a paternal hug then asked after young Mary’s story. Again Mary told her tale, slightly less hesitantly this time and without the bit about being homeless or kidnapped.  She did blush when Colm innocently asked her if the ‘nice young man with her’ was her beau?

When she declared Rory her father, Colm smiled. Yes he was aware of his two grandchildren but had lost regular contact after the family had moved to England many years ago whilst Rory and Jean were still children.

He explained that he had married late and to a much younger and oh so beautiful wife and they’d had a son, Shane who, to Max’s delight, turned out to have subsequently served in the Aontacht Éire as the third person to have held the title of Illustrious.

Following the death of his wife and Shane during a terrorist attack in Dublin by a meta-criminal, his daughter-law had given up on Ireland and moved back to her family home in Wessex where she’d raised her son Rory and young daughter Jean…

A connection at last! Did he know where he was now? “I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be but I get Christmas cards from them every year and I’m sure there is an address on them. I’ll ask one of the nurses later to look for you.” He stared at older Mary and asked to hold her hand which she gave him.

“You’ve seen him haven’t you? He’s back isn’t he?” “Who?” “My brother Shamus or at least what’s left of him… I can feel it in you; you’ve stared int’ the Abyss that is all that remains..? Is he again after the family?”

“Abyss is, was your brother?”

“Ah, so you’re really not ma’ auntie then, back from the dead, again. She’d had to hurl his cursed bones back on many an occasion. I think I have a tale you need to hear…” Turning to young Mary he asked “Does your boyfriend want to go for a walk as he seems a man who will find this tale a silly nonsense and a superstition – a fine man o’ science he seems and proper too. Let this ol’ man tell his kith an’ kin a family fairy tale whilst you ask the nice nurse on the desk to find my ol’ Christmas cards with their family addresses, would you now? Thank ye, you look after my lovely great grand-daughter now, you hear?”

Max, slightly embarrassed, accepted he was being dismissed and wandered off as requested to find the box of letters.

When he’d left the room, Colm asked them to get him a glass of water and then started to speak.

“I’m not long for this world but it’s a long life I’ve had, both filled with joy and sorrow. Shamus was m’ elder brother and a fine Finnian rebellious firebrand he was too. He could fair stir up the blood with his speeches and as a result we both were there during the Easter Riots of ’19. It was a bloody affair and afterwards, the English soldiers were out for revenge on us all until the Aontacht Éire turned up stopping the riot AND preventing the soldiers fro’ killing their prisoners. A fine sight they were, Ireland’s first meta-humans, like Gods. I was lucky, I was helping Illustrious search through the rubble for survivors and thanks to him speakin’ up for me I served only a few years in prison but a hellhole it was for sure and I was glad that Illustrious visited me occasionally and kept the prison guards in line. Shamus wasn’t so lucky.  He was captured while trying to set off a bomb and was beaten near to death, then sentenced to life in prison.

There he was again beaten, regularly and hard by the guards and would ha’ died in there had he no escaped. But that was t’be his doom.

I wasn’t there when it happened but I subsequently learnt that he tried to call up the devils themsel’ to exact revenge o’ the English. Something that was doomed to failure because you can’t negotiate wi’ such evil.

He was caught in some sort of a mystical battle between mages and died almost immediately; screaming in agony as his physical form was incinerated by hellfire. His killers immediately fled and I never did find out who they were or why they’d killed him – though I think his arrogance in thinkin’ he could negotiate with’em as equals was likely the reason.

Now you know about the family’s curse? The Bhean Sidhe that used to haunt our family? Good, well for some reason that very Bhean Sidhe mystically merged with the remnants of Shamus, at the moment of the poor man’s death.

I managed to hold a conversation with him once, many decades ago now. In the early days it was actually able to hold on to a greater degree of lucidity and I was able to speak with what remained o’ my brother. He told me that he remembered the Bhean Sidhe taking his spirit aside for a special chat. “Revenge is what I offer,” it apparently told the fading spectral remnants of the man’s presence. “What price are you willing to pay?” Its entire world reduced to pain and anguish, the spirit replied, “Anything! Everything!”

True or no, what is certain that moments later, fire burned a hole in the air and through that hole stepped Abyss. Its tortured existence began with the mental image of the mages scorched into its memory, a parting gift from the Bhean Sidhe now merged with an’ sustainin’ his vengeful soul mixed with the remnants of the hellfire that had destroyed his mortal remains.  A mageslayer, it will attack all mages but holds a special hatred for the mages that had attacked him and unfortunately his own family descendants still.​”

Shamus left behind his wife and a young son, Michael. She, she died a short time after and I brought Michael up but be careful if you meet him, he became a bad lot… A bad ‘un through and through and his daughter’s worse.”

He stopped to take a sip of water. He seemed tired and weak but determined to finish his tale.

“Anyway, that reasoning of his, little though it was, vanished over the decades.  Its brittle sanity continued to deteriorate over time, and today it can no longer stomach the presence of even the most innocuous manifestation of magic. Anything born of the supernatural must be destroyed utterly; I believe that should it ever run out of other suitable targets to vent its rage on, on that day it’ll possibly even turn its attention to itself, such are the depths of its insane hatred.​ When it can’t smell mages then it remembers its original purpose; singing us MacCarty’s to hell.

It still wants to end the MacCarty line and will at times turn his attention to seeking out its’ kith and kin. It’s even attacked his own son before now. I’ve faced it twice and it was technology that drove it away both times not the magic.  I’ve expected its return to usher me into that special hell. Guess I’m no longer the priority to harvest I once was.

I have learnt much about him, it over the years. ​In many ways, Abyss operates as a revenant — inhumanly fast and strong, difficult to injure or even slow down and absolutely devoted to eliminating the target of its revenge-obsessions. It also seems able to track down magic auras over great distances without fail. In addition, an unearthly fire constantly burns within Abyss, making it dangerous to even touch the creature’s physical body. It can channel a fraction of this fire at will into an incendiary whip-like weapon that has proven capable of igniting pretty much everything it touches. The true depths of its potential threat are really only evident when facing opponents using magic. Not only is Abyss invulnerable to almost any manifestation of magic in any direct form, but even Scrying and other forms of magically-based detection don’t appear to work against it and no one’s magic so far has proven any good whatsoever against the thing.​”

He coughed and signalled for Max to come back in. “I’m close to my time young man and I’d like to give you that photo you liked so much.” He motioned to young Mary. “And inside that bedside cabinet is a photo album and family bible with our family genecology inside. You’d make me very happy if you’d take it as a remembrance of an old man who was very pleased to see you. Now forgive me but I’m very tired…”

They made their goodbyes and went outside to the desk where the nurse on duty handed them two addresses taken from the most recent Christmas cards. As they looked at the addresses, an alarm went off inside the room and the nurse and two doctors rushed passed them. Colm had died, peacefully.

There was no attempt at resuscitation and one of the doctors quickly pronounced life extinct and came out to have a chat with them and offer his condolences.

It was as he was about to leave that he said “I’ll need to inform the Aontacht Éire of his passing. They arranged all this for him you know? Wish I understood why they had that metal mesh put behind the wallpaper though, when they insisted on redecorating this room for him…”

No wonder Abyss hadn’t harvested him at the end!

Time to head home; the hunt for Mary’s father would wait for another day. Perhaps Max might want to let of some steam by taking a roundabout route and pushing the Raft to the max?

——————————————————————————————————————————————-

A couple of hours and a lifetime later, Mary was back in the BASEment and wanting to discuss what she’d learnt about Abyss with her team members. Young Sam was already in the Lounge so she went downstairs to the games room seeking Akira. She walked in, passing Adam in the corridor and started to greet Akira when she suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and stared hard at him; her head slightly tilted to one side. Akira seemed caught up in a day dream as he was setting up the pool table for another game. He saw her staring and started to turn red in the face, embarrassed. The longer she stared without saying a word, the redder in the face he became. He was embarrassed by something but what? She continued to just stare. Then Annie came down apparently expecting to play a game of pool with Akira who now looked just even more like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Whatever he was thinking, whatever  he was embarrassed about, Annie was involved somehow even if she wasn’t aware of it.

Mary turned her back on Akira and said to Annie “I’m sorry Annie, perhaps you can play another time. I’d like to speak to you urgently about the base security.” She turned back to Akira who now looked as though he’d been caught publicly watching porn. He looked as though embarrassment would burn him up; Mary’s tone turned frosty; “Akira, I think you need a shower then please join us for a debrief of the last couple of days.”