Disclaimers: The Authority and all associated characters
belong to DC/Wildstorm and were created by Warren Ellis and
Bryan Hitch. I am not receiving any economic benefit from
this work. Buy this book. It's a fun read.
Author's Note: AUTHORITY 13 SPOILERS. This is primarily
written without the benefit of Issue 13 and only polished
with information from that storyline. Most of it was just
extrapolated from what I gleaned from interviews and a
small online preview. I was still fairly precognitive,
dangit, even though I *didn't* post this in time to look
that way. ;)
Feedback would be wonderful, and can be sent to:
ibelieve@rocketmail.com
This one's for Grym.
Iron Crown 1/1
"HAWKSMOOR!"
The radiotelepathic shout reverberated through the quiet of
the night, jolting the recipient of the message out of the
peaceful repose of hard-won slumber. Powerful legs
instinctively kicked aside thin cotton sheets as the tall
sleeper shot up abruptly, still groggy after only a scant
few hours rest. Jack Hawksmoor, guardian of the cities and
new leader of the Authority scrambled to his feet, eyes
glowing red in the dim night lighting of his quarters.
"Midnighter? Report!" His usually gravelly voice was even
thicker with sleep, but even as he spoke one bare arm was
immediately reaching for the black suit neatly folded on
the chest beside his bed.
There was no answer.
"Midnighter? What's wrong?" Jack struggled into his
clothing, then fumbled with the zipper of his everpresent
dark slacks, usually nimble fingers still clumsy with
sleep.
"We need you in the Control Room. There's a little matter.
. . with a camera crew." The Midnighter spat out the words
as if they stung, and Jack could almost visualize the other
man's masked visage twisting in a grimace.
Jack paused, one arm raised high above his head, white
shirt tangled over his head. "A *U.N.* camera crew?" Jack
asked, worry clouding his features. 'That's all I need
right now, some bastard from the Secretary General's office
trying to come do some impromptu inspection.'
"No." His teammate hurried to correct him. "No, it's not
the U.N. Just a television news Crew. That. Won't. Leave."
Disdain and frustration dripped from the dark man's voice.
It was all Jack could do not to sputter as he rapidly
pulled the shirt over his bare chest. "A television crew.
You're up anyway, can't you handle it? After all, you're
the bloody *MIDNIGHTER*."
The answer was a single, resounding "NO."
Jack sighed. "Midnighter, do you know how
many damn interviews and television shows and magazine
photojournalists we deal with every day?" Jack drew in a
deep breath. "Of course you do," He answered himself
blearily. "Stupid question. But what's so damn special
about this one that you can't handle it and let me sleep?"
There was a long, awkward pause. "It's not as simple as
that. You'll understand when you get here." The frustration
and anger in the Midnighter's growl was enough to convince
Jack.
The other man had dealt surprisingly well with all the
publicity the Authority's recent change in direction had
elicted, but apparantly he too had his limits. Whatever
this was had to be particularly tricky, and the Midnighter
was many things, but he was not a diplomat.
Jack put his hands flat against the wall of the Carrier,
wishing as he had so many times that it was a true city to
commune with. The Carrier was large enough to sustain him,
give him life, but it could not truly express the joys and
sorrows his own cities shared with him. Jack banged his
head gently against the wall, considering his options.
One. Crawl back in bed and sleep. 'Yeah, and have the
Midnighter go ballistic on some poor unsuspecting
television reporter and have to do spin control for the
next six months. Heh. The U.N. would have a field day with
that one.'
Two. Have someone else do it. 'That'd certainly endear me
to my teammates, and it's the middle of the night for
Jackson and Christine, too.'
Three. Go down and deal with whatever the situation was
himself. 'Shit.' He hit his head lightly against the cool
metal of the Carrier, sensing her odd amusement at his
behavior. It almost made him smile.
In a terse voice, he told the Midnighter. "Entertain them
for a few minutes and I'll be right down."
The Midnighter's relief was almost palpable. "Good. I don't
know how much longer I can-"
Jack exhaled sharply. "Midnighter, dammit, be nice to them
for another few minutes. The last thing we need is bad
publicity right now."
"But Jack-" There was more than a hint of petulance in the
words.
"Do it." He cut off the link before the other man could
protest, murmuring silent imprecations to himself.
'He handle it a few minutes longer. If I go out there in
this mood, I'll cause more damage than I'll avert.' Jack
flung his suit coat to the floor and fell on the bed with a
sigh, head thrown back to stare blankly up at the wired
metal ceiling. Lying spread eagled across the rumpled
covers, he ran a square hand through close-cropped receding
hair, trying his best to smooth its spiky locks.
Jack drew in a deep breath, then punched the bed in
frustration. The small physical release felt good, and Jack
repeated the motion several times before burrowing deeper
into the warm covers. He savored the rapidly fading heat
for another moment before rising regretfully, pacing the
length of his spacious quarters.
He glanced back at the bed longingly, then turned to study
his reflection in an oval mirror Angie had insisted he hang
on his wall. The rugged face that stared back at him was
haggard, with dark circles rimming tired eyes and deep care
lines creasing his brow.
'Shit, I'm one ugly bastard. And this is supposed to be the
face of a superstar.' He snorted in something akin to
disgust, then yawned. 'Damn, I need more sleep.'
His physical adaptations and communion with the cities
helped a great deal, but augmented or not, he was still
human. Even he required sleep, and that commodity had been
increasingly more difficult to come by ever since he'd
taken up the reins of leadership following the death of
Jenny Sparks.
Jack shook his head. 'How the hell did I let myself get
roped into this?' He sat back down on the edge of his bed,
remembering the events of the last few months.
After Jenny's death, the team had been devastated. They had
lost their friend, their leader, the vision behind their
union. The Authority had been her creation, after all, her
defiant answer to a world that refused to play by her
rules. Jenny had worn leadership so easily and well that
her shoes had seemed almost impossible to fill.
He'd been the only one surprised when the team unanimously
appointed him to the task.
Bearing Jenny's final words in mind, he'd led the Authority
to a fateful decision. Despite some reservations, the team
decided to no longer focus on threats from external foes
while evil flourished on Earth. Staring at the planet from
the safety of the Carrier, it was all too easy to forget
the individuals who lived below and only concentrate on
threats from without, not those from within.
They'd all seen so much it was easy not to think of the
millions of people suffering everyday. They'd all allowed
themselves to forget what they were fighting for, and it
was with no small amount of shame that the members of the
Authority acknowledged this to themselves.
With the awesome power at their disposal, they couldn't
allow such inhumanity to continue. After all, Shen had
reasoned, cancer killed a body as easily as an axe did.
Jack hadn't needed to see the glint in her eyes to know she
was thinking of her parents, murdered in political coup so
long ago.
So, in typical Authority fashion, the team had actively
begun to take an aggressive role their planet's politics,
and in doing so had won global acclaim and a place in the
public eye. An intervention here, a carefully orchestrated
rescue mission there, and all of a sudden The Authority
became serious news. As Jenny had planned, saving the
world-repeatedly, and letting them *know* about it- had
already made the entire world more than kindly disposed to
them.
It hadn't taken much more to make them full-fledged
celebrities. One well-placed media blitz later and the
public went Authority-crazy. The team was attractive, shiny
and dramatic, and cameras adored them. All of a sudden,
people began listening when The Authority spoke.
It made doing good a hell of a lot easier.
Even so, it had been easier for some members of the team to
adapt to public life than others. Apollo and Angie, for
example- Jack smiled fondly- had taken to the flashbulbs
like ducks to water, and Shen, of course, had maneuvered
through the mess with her usual grace, and he'd struggled
through as best he could. It'd hadn't been so easy for the
others. The Midnighter and the Doctor had proven
notoriously difficult to deal with.
'Which might explain why I'm not fast asleep right now,'
Jack shook his head, thick fingers idly playing with the
material of his blanket. 'He's been doing so well, but I
suppose some of those jackals are enough to try the
patience of a saint. Midnighter's no saint.'
He winced, remembering some of the more personal questions
he and his team had been subjected to. It had been
especially difficult in the early days not so long ago.
None of them had no diplomatic training, no experience in
dealing with the media *or* the U.N. It was a miracle their
plan hadn't failed in its infancy.
Jack smiled fondly, remembering the wonderful support and
assistance the cities had given him in his task, guiding
him towards the areas where their help was most needed,
providing him opportunities to show the world exactly what
The Authority could- and would- do. His cities- at their
very mention a feeling of warmth and well-being swept
through him, wiping away the last traces of grogginess and
irritation at being awoken from bed.
Their approval at his team's course of action had finally
wiped away all the lingering sense of guilt he felt at
leaving them to work for the greater good, first with
StormWatch, then with The Authority. He even felt absolved
from a faint sense of betrayal at spending so much time
aboard the Carrier so far from the cities of his home.
He was guardian and protector of the cities, and now he was
finally in a position to do them some real good. They
recognized what he was doing and encouraged him, flowing
warmth and support to give him the strength he needed to
both deal with the media and the U.N. and to still continue
their real work. The cities knew what he was doing, and
they loved him for it. 'Go on,' they seemed to say in the
worldless murmur that only he could understand. 'This is
important. We can handle ourselves while you help heal us
all.'
He'd needed that support to deal with the barrage of
problems their new path had created. Glossy magazine covers
or not, the U.N. was in quite an uproar over the
Authority's new direction. Instead of just a fifty-mile
long home for seven- or six, now- human beings, the Carrier
had become a place of refuge, a temporary sanctuary for
human beings seeking political asylum.
That, along with the team's pro-active response to
politics, had political ramifications that created such a
tangled knot of international relations that governments,
quite simply, were at a loss as to how to proceed. Even
though the Carrier had been portioned off, with the
Authority theoretically having little to no contact with
the refugees, it was not unusual for Jack to be interrupted
at all hours by the U.N. liasons appointed to deal with the
refugees, or more unpleasantly, world leaders calling to
threaten or cajole the team into backing away.
'It's either politicians or the media. One's as bad as the
other,' Jack thought ruefully, rotating his shoulders to
stretch tired muscles. 'I never thought I'd say it, but
maybe I *am* glad it's just a camera crew tonight.'
Formal negotiations had not been, to put it bluntly, a
simple matter. As a foundational details, the U.N. and its
member states were at a loss as to how to treat The
Authority. The Carrier was not a state, per se; even though
it in theory satisfied the geographic requirements of
statehood, the Authority simply didn't have the permanent
population and legislative resources to sustain that status
and could not be treated as such.
However, with the team's awesome resources and the
tremendous good will of the world populace, the Authority
still had a bit more leverage than the average run of the
mill non-governmental organization. Even so, there had
still been talk of treating the Authority as a terroristic
group, but strong lobbying by organizations such as the Red
Cross and Amnesty International had combined with the
Authority's new found celebrity to buy enough time to deal
with the issues as they arose. The team chose to exercise
this considerable leeway by continuing to wipe out petty
tyranny across the globe.
It hadn't been easy. Christine and Jackson had done their
best to help with the situation, but despite their best
intentions to the contrary Jack's attention had been
increasingly required as of late. And that was on top of
the pressures of leading the team.
'I don't know how she did it,' Jack thought morosely,
feeling as always the pang of loss which always accompanied
any thought of the late Jenny Sparks, his teammate and very
dear friend. 'She made this look so easy.'
One side of his mouth lifted in a small smile. 'The first
time one of those smarmy aides starting quoting treaty law
to her or one of those psuedojournalist asked about her sex
life she would have given them a jolt straight up the ass,
and that would have been the end of that.' He laughed
aloud, thinking of Jenny Sparks striking a sultry pose for
a fashion magazine. 'Nah, maybe it's a good thing she's not
here after all.'
Thinking of Jenny, as always, reminded him of the huge
responsibility of leadership she had left him. Jack rapidly
sobered. The Authority- and by extension, the world- now
answered to him. It was a heavy crown to bear.
*He* was leader of the Authority. The Midnighter had awoken
*him* out of his sleep tonight, and even through his
irritation Jack had been heartened by the confidence in the
other man's dour voice.
Two months ago this man had been his equal, his teammate,
but now Jack bore the responsibility for his life. Whatever
he ordered, within reason, the other man would do. It was
power, pure and simple, and he knew very well how dangerous
it could be. He'd seen the results of power corrupted first
hand.
The Changers.
Bendix.
Rose Tattoo.
Jack felt a familiar wave of sorrow pass through him, and
he shook his head resolutely. There would be no Bendix this
time. *He* was no Bendix, that was for damn sure. Like
Jenny, he would not allow the monsters to win. *His* team
would not decay from within, would not twist and warp until
it was unrecognizable as a force for good. As Shen had
said, he'd changed, they all had, but life was still a
treasure. And he was still, above all things, a guardian
and protector of life in all its forms.
Midnighter. Apollo. The Doctor. Shen.
Angie. His cities. They had faith in him, they believed he
was equal to the huge task that loomed ahead. They had
faith that he, Jack Hawksmoor, little boy lost, would take
care of them all.
He closed gritty eyes wearily, then opened them wide.
Whatever the price, whatever the cost, he'd pay it gladly.
He wouldn't let them down. There was too much riding on it.
Be it an entertainment magazine or the Security Council,
Third-World dicators or even something as relatively minor
as an interstellar invasion, Jack Hawksmoor and the
Authority would stand firm.
They had to. They had to make the world a better place.
Jenny had said so.
With that bittersweet thought in mind, Jack squared his
shoulders and walked forward into whatever was waiting in
the limelight.
Fin.
=====
-DuAnn
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the
world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid.
-John 14:27
