Superhero Adventures, UK Style

There had only been a couple of incidents that the Balance had been called upon to ‘assist with’ since Agent Ash’s forced deprogramming.

One was a burglary from a small laboratory. The thieves had already departed before they arrived on scene, though, given they’d escaped from a locked security room apparently empty-handed, this was still a matter of ongoing investigation.

The second incident was an attempt by Death Metal to ‘liberate’ a couple of teens that only recently had discovered their powers and had been sent to META for testing. Death Metal had stood her ground initially against the team but when it became obvious that she wouldn’t be able to grab the two teens she’d departed in a storm of sharp metal fragments ripped from nearby vehicles.

Thankfully, no one was hurt though, much to Sam’s disgust, his scales were battered and tarnished by the barrage of shards hitting his body as he and Akira protected the two youngsters from the bombardment.

Young Sam meanwhile, had been booked to give several TV interviews on behalf of the team though he realised that perhaps Mary might be right about not participating after he’d been forced to deal with everything from hostile interviews to presenters looking to turn him into a funny soundbite.

Akira had also been kept busy, practicing his more flashy magic and abilities so that they appeared to be stage-magic, in readiness for his big TV performance.

Adam spent much of his spare time working closely with Tessa Challenger-Wildeman on perfecting his hand tractor extractor. As Tess laughingly admitted, he who builds it can name it whatever they liked even if it was a stupid name. They’d confirmed that an injection of silver directly into the parasite not only paralysed it but also allowed the tractor beam to more easily get a hold on its unique merged signature to allow for a safer extraction.

Silver also had a low toxicity and its use, unlike other metals, resulted in minimal risk to the patient.

In the intervening time, Tess had been busy working on duplicating the goggles so they could identify those people infected with control parasites.

A covert sweep of AEGIS headquarters with one of their recently acquired pairs of googles had already found two more people carrying parasites but the intention was to identify as many victims as possible before arresting anyone so that few if any of the carriers escaped. Harry Powers had quietly admitted that the Royal Family and the Prime Minster had thankfully proved to be uninfected but that they had discovered that someone extremely high up in the Government hadn’t been so lucky. The search was now on to identify anyone else that was infected.

When enough copies of the goggles were ready then the testing would be rolled out across the country and beyond to other countries.

With all that going on the background, there was still time for some investigation. As they hadn’t any clues as to where or why ‘R’ was apparently in South Africa, they instead focused on what they already knew.

The price on their head had been a certain book, a unique grimoire. They’d learnt previously that PISCES had at least one other property in Scotland, somewhere they called the Vault. It was Annie’s theory that the Vault was separate from their base at St. Kilda. She based this on the fact that a number of items were recorded as being sent there in 1946 by road and the vehicles appeared to be driving for less than a day, there and back. Of course, it could have been transferred to another vehicle to continue its journey but Annie wasn’t convinced.

A rare book of such antiquity couldn’t be left just anywhere. It was Annie’s theory that it would need to be stored safely, possibly wherever this Vault was. If they could find and extract the book, then without a prize why would anyone continue to try to kill them?

She’d managed to narrow the Vault’s location down to somewhere on the East coast of Scotland (based on mileage and initial routes taken by the transports). She was now busy searching though land registry records looking for ownership abnormalities in all large buildings built before the Second World War, especially any that had been acquired by the Government at some point. What made it more difficult was the number of records that were just scans and therefore were electronically unsearchable. That meant using Frankie’s OCR capability to convert the often near-illegible handwritten entries into searchable text, which further slowed down the search.

It was her intention to secretly upload the converted and searchable records to the Scottish archives once she’d finished.

Meanwhile she had also pulled together some information for Mary and the others on Daka crystals.

The mysterious crystals were supposedly only found in one particular area of Africa, in the nation of Dakata. They have the appearance of blood-red diamonds, but were harder and had several other extremely unusual properties as well.

Interestingly, the Ziru Sirka had no knowledge of Daka crystals and had not found anything similar off-world.

The crystals could channel and direct many forms of energy. This made them a vital component in different technological devices and an extremely precious commodity. They could enhance battery output, convert kinetic into electrical energy and boost signal and data capacity.

The isolated kingdom of Dakana had profited from the limited sale of Daka crystals and more than a few criminals have attempted to seize control of the only known supply, always without success.

For example, a sliver of crystal could be used to create a Zero Point Module. A ZPM was a power source capable of supplying tremendous amounts of energy by serving as an enclosure for an artificially created pocket of subspace-time.

Zero Point energy was extracted from this pocket until it reached maximum entropy. It was one of the most formidable power sources known to exist. The life of a ZPM was directly proportional to the power demands placed on it. If not in use, a ZPM could maintain its power level indefinitely. However, even if it was exposed to a constant strain, ZPMs could theoretically still supply power for thousands of years, depending on the degree of use.

In addition, slivers of crystal could be used to form immensely powerful processor units (the circuitry had to be engraved by some unknown means in Dakata) or act as power amplifiers.

In 2014, shards of Daka Crystals, supposedly mined from some secret location in Russia, surfaced but the Russian Government lacked the technology to cut or engrave the crystal. They approached Dakata for assistance but faced claims from the Dakatan representative to the UN that the crystals had to have been stolen from Dakata and they refused to assist with carrying out any modifications of the raw crystal.

Dakata itself was an enigma. A small country with very secure borders, it was located between Ethiopia, Kenya and South Sudan. It was a country with a population in the hundreds of thousands and had the strictest entry requirements of any country in the world.

They have only three embassies in the world (located in London, Brussels and Cape Town) where you could apply for a visa to visit and extremely strict entry qualifications, which they rigorously enforced, apparently in order to maintain the unique ecology of the region. Less than a 100 visas were granted every year and then only for scientific research or state visits and those generally limited to the capital and the country’s only city, Kiburi.

It was also a country that had never been conquered.

Despite having a seat on the UN their representative there was also their Brussels Ambassador and rarely attended sessions unless the matter being discussed directly impacted on the country.

Notwithstanding its immense wealth as a nation and having a highly educated population, the country had preserved its ancestral way of life with only the capital of Kiburi having any obvious signs of economic progress.

Mary was pleased (if somewhat confused) by the amount of progress already made by Annie and by Harry Powers. However, chatting to her comrades it was clear they had no firm ideas as to what to do next.

“The Scottish place seems easier to hopefully find and deal with than anything to do with Dakata, which is where the African lead seems to point. But I wonder if the Challenger-Wildeman family, as high-tech philanthropists might have some sort of “in” with the Dakata government that could get us through the checks?”

It was the Challenger-Wildeman A.I., Alex who disillusioned them on that point. Their Foundation had never managed to get a foothold in the secretive little country and the family was expressly told that they would not be welcome, something to do with an unfortunate incident whilst visiting the region by one of their great grandfathers, Professor Belteshazzar Challenger back in the 1890’s.

It was the first time that Mary had ever seen a robotic personality seem embarrassed.

Young Sam felt similarly to Mary, between his appearances being turned into humorous social media gifs and animations (though it had successfully diminished his reputation as a black-ops assassin), Annie and Frankie have been particularly on point in this instance.

However, he couldn’t help but wonder in that paranoid section of his brain if Annie was somehow closer to all this than she should be, if she was genuinely concerned about the wellbeing of the team..?

Since her return, the doubts had begun again to grow as to her motivations in being with them, him, even more so now than usual. Assassination attempts, he thought wistfully, do have that effect on people.

He tried to focus his attention on the group discussion and found himself agreeing, at least in part, with Mary’s wise musings: “Neither option sounds particularly easy. I’m sure pinpointing the Vault will in every bit be just as difficult as persuading Dakata to allow us through their borders legally.

I don’t often suggest this, but perhaps it would be best for us to split up?

Mary, Akira – you both know magic, grimoires and scrying better than anyone. Is there a way to try to trace this grimoire by magic? Meanwhile Mace and I can try to work the Dakata angle. I’m sure they’ll find her scientific shtick and my ‘natural’ charisma charming.

I just worry that on a case like this, the clock is ticking. The longer we’re under threat from ‘R’, and that prize, the longer we’re all in danger…”

Sam quickly found the address for the Dakatan Embassy in London, located in Soho and phoned to request an appointment to speak about possibly visiting the country (and hopefully find out who else might be planning to visit?)

The receptionist confirmed that the Ambassador dealt with all such matters personally and could meet them the following morning at their London offices.

His name was listed as Mr Philip M’Shumba.

Next morning the two of them set off for London. Arriving in Soho a good twenty minutes before their time, they wandered up and down the street looking for an embassy, nothing. It was Mace who found it; a small metal plaque on a door beside a small Chinese herbalist, next to a series of pinned cards advertising discrete French lessons; it read “1^st Floor Left – The Kingdom of Dakata – London Embassy.”

Opening the street door with its peeling green paint, they found themselves in a narrow, stairwell with browning wallpaper and a pale light. The walked up the old, creaking stairs and turned left on the first landing and knocked. Despite having the appearance of a wooden door, it sounded metallic.

The door opened automatically and facing them behind a solid oak desk was a young black woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. She was dressed in a colourful yellow dress with tribal patterns, tied at one shoulder and open down that side revealing a skin-tight black top and trousers underneath.

“Ah, you will be Mr Young Sam and Ms Mace. Mr M’Shumba is expecting you. Please go through.”

An inner door opened and they found themselves in a bright and cheerful room, subtlety decorated facing a man over 2 metres tall and well-built, dressed in an Armani suit. His hair was plaited in cornrows and his cheeks bore a series of three scars on each cheek. Like the receptionist, he had a brilliant smile as he introduced himself.

“Just call me Philip, please be seated and please tell me how can I help you and why you would want to visit our humble, little kingdom? Please be aware, we are not set up for tourism and are sufficiently self-reliant to not require aid from other countries. Nor do we encourage missionaries to enter our land.”

Sam took a seat in a pristine black leather and mahogany chair, being careful to move with a casual grace. He took a few moments to consider his words before speaking. Mace elected to stand by the door.

“Philip, thank you for seeing us with such short notice. I won’t waste your valuable time with small talk, to business. It is regarding a personal and criminal matter that involves my team and I, allow me to explain.”

Sam, in a cool dispassionate tone, explained their current situation with ‘R’, the bounty she’d placed on their heads and their reason for suspecting their whereabouts, previously believed to be South Africa but they suspected she intended to head to Dakata.

“I would humbly like to request a visit and to stay in Dakata’s capital, Kiburi, in order to receive updates on any developments in person, or being on hand to assist if required (though I’m sure this will not be necessary). I trust, by this request, you understand the seriousness in which I ask this of you. Would there be anything you or Dakata would entertain in return, Philip, as a sign of goodwill?”

He looked at Sam and Mace for what seemed like a very long time without speaking, though in reality it was probably only a couple of minutes. He then reached over and pressed a button of his desk. “Ah, Fortune?” The receptionist’s voice replied from a small wooden statuette of a lion situated on his desk, “Yes sir?”

“Could you check and see what applications we’ve received this year for visits – in particular from Cape Town?  Oh, and can you try and arrange a call for this evening please with his Majesty, King M’Balla?”

A second later, the receptionist stepped in, her walk confident and handed a very thin file to the Ambassador. He thanked her as she stepped out and opened the file. He turned a few pages before  looking  up.

“Ah, yes we did receive a visa application a couple of weeks back at our Cape Town Embassy for a Duchess Marjorie Rittingham and entourage. Her request was subsequently rejected. Our Ambassador in South Africa was suspicious as to her motives and noted in the files that she consequently appeared to be equipping a Safari or expedition and heading to Northern Kenya.

Look, I will talk with our King, hopefully this evening, about what you’ve told us. It’s unlikely he will agree to allowing you entry to Dakata, but he can take precautions against this ‘R’.

Look, give me your contact number and I’ll give you a call in a couple of days. In the meantime,” He reached behind his desk and pulled out several forms, “You’re welcome to complete these visa application forms for your team and then I’ll have them on file if his Majesty decides to agree to your request.” He stood up making it clear that their time was over.

Sam also stood up and took the forms, knowing that Annie will be able to scan them in and have Frankie complete them with their alternate ID’s and HCP details.

It wasn’t exactly the result he’d hoped but at least they’d tried and who knows, perhaps the King might agree to their visiting and if not, then they needed to consider what other options were open to them?

At least they had a better idea of where ‘R’ was now.

Back at the BASEment, Akira was busy. A locating spell, such as Ahzrahgul’s Compass might help find the Vault, he thought as he prepared the components of the spell. Akira prepared himself to use up all his available energy if it could help them get a bearing on the Vault. The fact that such a powerful grimoire was housed there and he hoped his own link to St Kilda might help. He considered trying to astrally travel to St Kilda and hope that if he performed the spell at that location, it would increase its chances of finding the book.

Despite his growing experience with magic, he’d not really tried pushing himself that hard with some of his powers. Astral projection was an ability he was comfortable with but had never actually learnt its limits. As he sat in the White Room, he felt his senses leave his body, like a phantom floating above his comatose, vulnerable physical body attached at the navel by a shining cord.

He floated up and away from his physical shell. The first issue he encountered was that even before he was ten miles from the BASEment, he felt the tug on the connecting silver cord telling himhe could risk stretching the connecting silvery cord this far and no more. St. Kilda was still hundreds of miles away. The second issue was that he’d never tried casting a spell before, whilst in astral form. While all of his senses were present, he physically wasn’t. Unable to cast the gestures he needed to create the right frame of mind, his astral form wasn’t able to access a spell that he wasn’t intimately familiar with. His astral form floated powerless above the countryside, the pull on the cord growing more powerful the longer his astral form and his physical body remained separated.

No, if he wanted to use Ahzrahgul’s Compass to locate the grimoire, he’d either have to physically travel to St. Kilda in the hope that that place had some form of connection he could tap into or…

He snapped back into his physical body and for a moment, he ‘saw’ the colour drain out of the spiritual world that surrounded everyone as his body again became mundane and normal. He took a few seconds to readjust and then he began casting the spell using a loadstone and a bowl of water to try to focus on what little he knew of the Testament of Carnamagos.

He now knew that it was originally written in the third Century AD when it was hidden, only for it to be recovered in the tenth from a Graeco-Bactrian tomb and transcribed in the original Greek by an unknown apostate monk. That was the book he had to focus on, not the long-lost original record.

The book was described as being covered in shagreen; this was supposedly untanned leather or sharkskin though it was possible that in this case it was actually the skin of a sentient reptile (a serpent man?) with hasps of human bone and its cover carved with eldritch intimations.

Its contents apparently written in the blood of a monster contained the biographies of great but now forgotten sorcerers, accounts of demonic beings, and spells for summoning and commanding an assortment of entities.

That was all he knew about the prize. Would it be enough to track it down? His mind expanded out seeking something that matched his mental picture. Then he felt them. Faint, barely present but definitely three traces, each different, each unique in their own way, each radiating evil.

One, in London was the closest. He was sure that was something stored in the stacks of the Library and unlikely to be the specific book he sought. That was the strongest trace but the one that least matched his mental image. The other two were somewhere to the North (but not necessary in Scotland). It was impossible to say which was the book he sought, nor was he able to distinguish them apart or channel in on their locations sufficiently. He needed something connected to the book, even if it was just a more detailed knowledge of what was written on the pages.

Utterly exhausted, he collapsed backwards onto the cushions. Ok, so he could confirm a couple books similar to how the Testament of Carnamagos was described existed, they were in different locations but both were to the North, he just wasn’t sure how far. The trace wasn’t strong enough to narrow it down any further.

Perhaps if they were to get a bit physically closer? He ended his experiment for the moment and wearily pushed himself to get up and head to his room. He was utterly exhausted and he needed to sleep in order to recover before trying that again.

Tomorrow after all was another day. As he limped out he failed to see the slight, luminous tip that had flared into existence on the loadstone, vibrating slightly as though trying to move between two fixed locations hundreds of miles away.