Sam yawned, stretched and then felt his senses tingle with the impression of ‘her’ psychic presence in the room with him. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled. Annie sat on the bed fully dressed and smiling back. In her hands she held two letters, which she casually sniffed. “Hi sleepyhead, now who would be sending you love letters, eh?”
He reached out, snatched both letters out of her hands and immediately noticed that both were postmarked London. There were no specific scent traces on the first that he could smell, though the second did have an unfamiliar perfume scent. He turned them over and saw the microscopic traces that someone had already opened them. He smiled; trust really wasn’t Annie’s strong point. He hefted the letters, nodding to her: “Good work sweetness, I almost didn’t notice.” He said chuckling. She tilted her head and raised one of her eyebrows at him as though to say, “I’ll make sure to do better next time.”
Whatever was inside, had to be reasonably innocuous for her to be flirting like this. He tore the first envelope open without a word, deliberately choosing to open the unscented letter first. Inside was an invitation from Castle Comics to visit the MCM Comic-Con this weekend as their guest and participate in the launch of the new English language version of The Balance comic. If he agreed, he would be expected to participate in a fringe event discussing the team’s adventures and sign comics for a few hours on both the Saturday and Sunday.
That caught Sam off-guard, he was very familiar with that particular comic-con but their usual shows in London were held in May and October. Seems the convention was now proving so popular that they had decided to run a third annual show in London starting this weekend. Sam felt a small sense of pride, he was glad that the shows were proving successful, they were a fun weekend out, a creative outlet for all sorts and finally – fellow geeks had something to grab, hold onto and claim, “this is mine” besides their parent’s basements and virtual spaces.
He read on. He was being asked to participate on his own on this occasion but Castle Comics promised that next year, provided the comic took off, they would try and invite the whole team. He looked at his invitation, Castle were a relatively new comic company in the UK and could ill-afford to pay the whole team (and entourage?) to attend. Sam was delighted to be invited, and wore it openly on his expression. He wouldn’t have charged provided his day was incident free of-course, but as with all kinds of promotions – time equals money and he also didn’t want to set a precedent.
He hoped Mary, Akira and Mace wouldn’t mind. He would of course offer to pay for Annie, Adam and Tony to attend if they wanted to come along.
He looked at the second envelope, the one that Annie was stink eyeing and carefully peeled it open pretending to ‘savour’ the scent, then deliberately and slowly placed the envelope on the bedside table with a grin. Inside was another invite, this one was for one plus guest to the same MCM Comic-Con – all expenses paid. There was a small card with it, from a company called Siren Beauty Products. Ah, now that name was familiar.
“Well? I want an explanation for that,” said Annie, pointing towards the card. Sam smiled, wondering whether to tease her or explain. Were the impending bruises worth it? “What, you don’t think I’m beautiful?” He mimed a ‘maybe it’s Maybelline’ hair flick, but elected to give in to her curiosity.
“You remember me talking about when I escaped from what we now know were Setekh worshippers, those people in Carpathia? Do you recall me telling you that I was suffering from partial amnesia due to being brainwashed and was unsure what had happened to me? Well, I needed to hide but also needed to go somewhere that I wouldn’t stand out too much, not easy when you look like this. Money from my bank account and savings were running low, consequently I attended the MCM Comic-Con and, to cut a long story short, I won that year’s best cos-play award, which was sponsored by this company, Siren Beauty. They do a range of specialist make-up especially for cos-players, think latex, special effects, specifically designed scents, as well as the more traditional photo-quality beautification products, anyway you get the idea.
The prize was free entry to every UK comic-Con and Sci-fi convention for the next year, all expenses paid. It was literally a lifesaver. I had somewhere I could hide in plain sight and free food, at least until I finally managed to figure out what to do next. It was a case of don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, besides, even after the event you could wander the city streets as ‘just another cosplayer heading to some after-party’. That was just before I was accepted into the HCP programme at Hendon. Shortly after that, I met up with Mary, Akira and Chrono. Wonder why Siren Beauty has sent me this invitation now?”
It occurred to him that perhaps he had not been attending many (any?) conventions recently and this was a gentle reminder of his encouraged obligations? Or it was time to crown a new Siren’s Beauty mascot, perhaps? He couldn’t tell for sure.
A few phone calls, a brief refusal from Mary and the others who didn’t want to attend, and he understood. Seems Siren was inviting him as a previous winner and as a new local celebrity to participate in a couple of the Q&A panels they were sponsoring, his participation had been written into their winners’ contract.
Adam had considered going with him, but hadn’t wanted to stay for the whole weekend and Jeeves made it clear that he would prefer that Adam wasn’t seen in their company in public whilst Sam was in his Dragonkin mode. If he was to attend, he would have had to remain separate from them and anyway Tony was too busy with work to come with him. In the end, Adam agreed to drop them off and demanded Sam bring him back a first edition of The Balance comic as well as seeing if he could get him a back issue, no.132 of the Alley Hawk.
Sam sighed heavily, but agreed; endlessly browsing the traders for a specific edition, which is more-likely-than-not extremely rare, wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but when in Rome (or London). He made a mental note to ask to borrow a copy of Alley Hawk. He remembered Adam reading a couple of copies before their New Year’s celebrations, so it must be a pretty engaging read!
Annie wasn’t going to miss this for the world and immediately began working with Mikey on making herself a suitable costume. She was already chuckling at some of Sam’s inevitably awkward, dorky and pun-filled trial responses.
Sam recommendation was to wear something comfortable and practical, if she wanted to walk around all day, relax and take photos – though Sam knew she wouldn’t have any problem with that in any case. In the end, she decided to cosplay the heroine Britannia – in an extremely accurate copy of her form-fitting costume and with a blonde shoulder length wig.
Sam also wondered if as he was contributing to the show, perhaps Annie could too: she’ll be in costume and disguised anyway? Didn’t Annie use to DJ for a popular radio station as a hobby when she was at the ARC? Could Sam encourage her to possibly do a live set and organise it with the convention somehow? Or even at an after party? That would be nice, if she would like to let her hair down, that is?
Next morning Sam and Annie, in her Britannia costume, had just pushed their way into the main foyer and presented security with their passes when a small man, in what looked to be a Mr Magoo costume, ran at him and began screaming at his chest, calling him a liar and a cheat.
There was something disturbingly familiar about him. Security rushed over as the man screeched that Sam owed him for cheating in the 2016 costume parade. He’d apparently been the runner up when Sam was awarded the top prize and now that he knew Sam was actually a ‘mutie’ and not in a costume, he demanded that Sam admit he cheated and give him the prize he’d ‘stolen’ from him. (He wasn’t technically wrong, but his form still counted as a costume of sorts, and a little white lie, some yet-uncontrolled Draconic Persuasion and a saccharine smile had gone a long way).
Sam smiled, he vaguely remembered the man. If he recollected correctly, he’d come in third, not second and he’d been dressed that time as the Martian from Bugs Bunny. Seemed there was a bit of a theme going here.
Sam was certain if the press got hold of the story that the accusation would make the headlines in no time. He didn’t like the man now, and he hadn’t liked him then. With tight lips and a test of his willpower, he bit back a mean comment that he would have later regretted. Just as the frantic costumed fellow was being encouraged to walk away by the staff, Sam jogged over, looking apologetic and offered his Siren Beauty business card with their contact number; he knew anything he said would just further antagonise the poor man.
Sam turned and walked slowly back to Annie’s side. Annie had a serious and concerned look upon her face trying to figure out what to do for the best. Sam shook his head. He opted to do nothing. Sure; he was sorry, but needs-must at the time, and it’s not like he was competing now, nor had Siren Products taken away the title since his very public-meta debut. They obviously considered it a non-issue. It was in the past. He furrowed his brow. He glanced across at all the strangers taking candid photos constantly and without permission. Maybe this was all bad idea. Where does the person start, and the costume end?
Inside the main hall, a green-coloured woman dressed in a skimpy dress from some ancient sci-fi series met and thanked them for attending and passed them their schedule of events. Sam cleverly averted his gaze whilst apparently admiring the buildings architecture lest he stoked Annie’s playful wrath.
Seems he was booked to participate in a discussion or panel today about ‘does meta-crime ever pay?’ He would be discussing the cons of meta-villainy with a retired villain ‘The Conjurer’ arguing the pros. He wondered if that meant he was arguing against a professional debater or if he was supposed to be pro-meta crime, or was Sam the professional meta? He ought to take notes and prepare, this could get messy in media, real fast. His stomach was hit with a proverbial freight train filled with butterflies and anxiety, being physically stunned for a moment. This wasn’t what he thought he was going to be doing. Danger and combat he could breeze through, but a battle of wits? He felt seriously unarmed for that type of battle. He shuddered, when was the last time he sat down to read a book or study, properly that is. Annie by far would be better at this.
The show was due to start in quarter of an hour and he was already being seated on stage beside the grey haired and cheerful former villain.
The elderly man, smartly dressed in top hat and tails, stretched out his hand in greeting, “Morning you must be Young Sam. Highly original name you got there? Is that your real name or are you named after the hell-beast Sammael? Anyway, glad you could make it; I heard on the old grapevine that there’d been a contact put out on you and your friends so weren’t sure whether or not you’d be attending. Glad to see you did. Sweet Prize on offer for you lot as well, a truly powerful grimoire. If I wasn’t happily retired and here with my granddaughter I’d consider making a play for it myself. Any idea who you pissed off to have them offer something that rare for your heads?”
Sam smiled sweetly, trying and possibly failing to hide his nerves, “Morning, Conjurer! Hey, thanks. Do you go by a short, snappy nickname by any chance? The Conjurer is a bit of a mouthful, lots of syllables, how about I just call you Merlin?” he offered in jest, one he hoped would be well received.
The old man, shook his head but appeared amused. “Ah, I am most definitely not The Merlin or any of the other great names of power. Best to stick to calling me Conjurer in public, Sidney when it’s just between ourselves; or Mr. Crabtree if you want to remain formal, though I’d prefer Sidney – and you?”
Sam continued, “Ah, as for my name… ah, it’s complicated.” he scratched his chin in thought to think how much to reveal to the kindly looking man. He opted to reveal as much as would be on their social media. There’s power in a true-name after all. “It’s a conjunction: yes, Sam is my real name, but Young isn’t – that’s to do with my breakthrough. I could probably do with more information regarding that hell-beast! You know, just in case?
Yes, anyway, glad to be here, with the spotlights, camera-phones, and adoring fans with questionable hygiene, it’s charming, isn’t it?” Sam joked with a smile. “But seriously, it’d take more than a little contract to deter me from the public. We’ve had contracts on us before, nothing ever changes. Hiding away never stops anyone does it? It’s just a fair warning.” he looks solemn. “Courage, not blind stupidity, makes the hero, supposedly.” he scans the room and windows in an attempt to sense and foil any potential attempt as he continues talking, warily.
The old man shook his head, “My old man used to say that the difference between a hero and a coward is that when things get dangerous one of them runs in the wrong direction; and he wasn’t talking about the coward. Just be cautious Young Sam, there are a lot of idiots out there who think getting their hands on such a powerful tome will grant them great mystical power, and refuse to consider the personal cost.”
Sam nodded at the warning, “Never understood magic quite as well as a couple of my working partners, mind. It’s so very flexible and vague, there’s a lot of feelings and personal touch involved, rather than technique or fact. That or I’ve been thinking about it all entirely wrong.” he chuckled quietly.
“In our line of work, Conjurer, we piss off people all the time. Envious normals’ with access to an interesting bookshelf, a friend-of-a-friend of a foiled villain put away (no offense), a corporation or government because we’re too inconvenient, someone who may have thought true justice has not been paid… Honestly, take your pick. We’re working on the specifics at the moment, mind. We have leads.”
He pointed at the retired villain winking and chuckled. “So, your granddaughter, is she cosplaying here today? Did you want to get a photo or a bite to eat after this or something? Oh, and am I pro-crime by the way? I didn’t get the memo!”
The Conjurer smiled, “Breath young man, you just need to relax and just answer questions truthfully. Does crime pay? Just admit that sometimes it does but usually you are caught or are on the run for the rest of your life. I’d personally be surprised if most of the questions aren’t about how to successfully breakthrough and become a meta, preferably a rich and immortal one.”
Sam smiled, “Oh, that’s an easy one to answer, just like our own breakthroughs, be the right person in the right place at the right time with the right mind-set, and cha-ching! You have yourself an entrepreneur on your hands! Also helps to also have been born with the meta-gene of course.”
Sam took a deep breath. He hadn’t noticed he almost spilled everything a few moments before in one stumbled mess. “Public speaking hasn’t really ever been my strong suit besides the occasional one-liner, Akira usually handles the speeches. Does crime pay? It’s a complicated question with plenty examples for both cases, I just don’t want to inspire or encourage metas or otherwise to try and paint this line of work in some Hollywood light. You know as well as I do the sleepless, thankless nights and then waking up black-and-blue all over.” he shuddered.
The old man gently interrupted, “So, why exactly is someone willing to offer the only remaining copy of The Testament of Carnamagos for you and your teammates? That goes above and beyond a little grudge…”
“You’ll have to forgive me I only know the New and Old Testament and even then only OF them. I’m intrigued, but if someone already owns and uses the grimoire – I’ll already be dead and it won’t then be of any of my concern!” he laughed, then stopped rather quickly.
The Conjurer whispered, “So you’re aware of it but what do you actually know about the Testament of Carnamagos?” Seeing the blank look on Sam’s face he continued, “It was supposedly written by an evil sage and seer of that same name sometime in the third Century, recovered in the tenth from a Graeco-Bactrian tomb, and transcribed by an apostate monk in the original Greek, in the blood of a monstrosity. Like most such tomes, it contains the histories of great sorcerers, accounts of demonic beings, and spells for summoning and commanding an assortment of entities. According to legend, only two copies have ever existed, and the Inquisition destroyed one, early in the thirteenth century. The other was supposedly held by the British Government, captured apparently in 1945 from a group of fleeing Ahnenerbe-SS, but what happened to it after that..?
Its cover’s apparently made of shagreen, a kind of untanned leather or sharkskin though I’d also heard it was the skin of a sentient reptile, with hasps of human bone and its cover carved with eldritch intimations. Extreme caution is required in the presence of this tome, for it apparently contained several powerful invocations, or so I’ve been told. Someone wants you dead even if the potential price is the end of all life as we know it.”
As they chatted, the hall began to fill including a young woman who sat right at the front in the costume of the Greek Heroine Kassandra. She waved at the old man and mimed ‘good luck’. This was obviously Sidney’s granddaughter. He was amazed at the detail in her costume and how closely she’d managed to resemble the real-life Greek Meta.
For a second he wondered, could she really be..? He suddenly remembered the story of Centurion who as a joke entered a best Centurion imitator competition several years ago and came third.
As the presenter came on to introduce both of them, he saw Annie indicate her earpiece from the side of the stage. He switched his on and heard Annie remind him that she would be right there throughout, helping feed him information.
She was as good as her word; throughout the session she provided facts and figures and acted as a link to the internet and of course Frankie’. As Sidney’d promised, most of the questions were either money or Meta-related. However he was able, thanks to Annie, to reply with a number of important facts, such as since the HCP scheme had been implemented the UK had the highest success rate in capturing meta criminals of any country in Europe and point out that The Conjurer had ended up spending 12 years in prison.
A tear came to the old man’s eye at that point as he explained to the audience that his life choices had cost him his reputation, his marriage and his daughter and how it had taken until his granddaughter was an adult before he finally got a chance to meet her. There were tears in a number of eyes at that revelation and Sam was glad to see the young woman in the front row, dry her eyes and wave so lovingly at her grandfather.
He then explained that he now made more money out of his Comic-Con appearances than he’d ever done from his crimes.
With that, the panel ended. Sam now only had to attend the Castle Comics stall to sign some first editions, spend half an hour regaling the gathered masses with stories about previous public cases he and the rest of the Team had worked on and if they wanted, attend their after show party at a nearby hotel. Thankfully, it was being held close to the hotel that Siren Beauty had booked them into for the night.
As he stepped off stage, he cuddled Annie and asked if she’d like for him to arrange for her to do a guest slot at the evening party. Her outburst of laughter took him by surprise. “Oh dear God no, I used to do an occasional guest spot as a ‘Talk Jock’ on one of the online radio shows broadcast by the Challenger-Wildeman’s Alex and, whilst I’d not necessarily been that good, it had helped act as a form of therapy, just to make sure I didn’t become isolated. However it was Alex who chose the music and did the technical bit regarding syncing the songs together, all I did was point out some facts to listeners, challenge and disprove their sometimes moronic statements and threaten to arm-wrestle neo-nazi, anti-meta fascists into submission. No, I’m happy going along and spending the evening dancing with you rather than worrying myself sick about BPM’s and maintaining the mood.”
Outside the hall, several people in a multitude of costumes had gathered. Sam assumed they were there for autographs and they were but as they unmasked he realised these were also people he’d known at previous shows, people who’d befriended and helped him before he’d became ‘famous’; proud of their association with him and were happy to help him in any way they could. Sam thought for a few seconds, he took the opportunity to thank them and asked, “Do you fancy doing me a favour? How well do you know the comic sellers in the main hall? I’m due to attend another show in a few minutes and I was trying to find a back issue of a comic – ah, 132 of Alley Hawk? If any of you could help seek out who has a copy in good condition and what price they want?”
Almost as soon as he’d spoken the gathered mini-horde started to head off towards the marketplace. It suddenly occurred to him that just as Sherlock Holmes had his Baker Street Irregulars he might have his very own Nerd Network (or should that be the Nerd Herd?), his Cosplayers Consortium of informers…
Wonder what tomorrow would bring?
Superhero Adventures, UK Style 