The Workings of Fate
Epilogue: Ripples and Butterflies
Brigadier Dr Kate Stewart, CO of the Unit, considered the giant of a man who sat opposite her.
"Sergeant Moran, welcome back to Britain. I've taken the liberty of providing you with the necessary documents, so you can collect your rations and so forth."
Moran glared at her. "I'm not any too happy about being snatched from the docks and dragged here." He growled. "Let's get one thing clear, shall we? I've got no bloody intention of working for Sutler and his lot!"
"Good, neither have we." Kate told him. "You know as well as I do, Sergeant, that the Unit does not officially exist, it never has. Only the most trusted members of government are ever told about us, and Sutler was never that trusted. We've been operating under his nose for years!"
"Doing what?" Moran asked.
"Building a network, the infrastructure for an effective resistance. We have everything in place, and it's time to start." She explained.
"Makes sense." He allowed. "So what do you want with me? I'm a combat specialist, not one of the funny folk!"
"Events march." Kate told him. "Have you seen the news?"
"I have." Moran said. "Somebody blew up the Old Bailey, then some nutter took over the BTN and asked people to come on a demo next Guy Fawkes Night. Is this V one of yours?"
"No." Kate admitted. "But we have been tracking him, and we've given him some covert support -he doesn't realise that, by the way. We think he's got something big planned for next November, and we mean to use that to cover our own action. This government is going down. There's going to be a period of instability, and we have a plan for it. Do you recognise this?"
She passed a photograph across the desk. Moran examined it.
"Well, it's modern," he said, "but it looks like the costume that Union Jack wore. The bloke they called the 'Masked Spybuster'. He – or someone wearing that suit – was active in both world wars. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking, Ma'am?"
"People are going to need protection." Kate said. "Law and order are going to be in short supply for a while. More than that, they're going to need heroes, people to look up to, to trust. The heroes need to be beyond politics, and about doing the right thing. There's already a kind of cult, fan thing growing around V, but I'm sure he'll vanish just as soon as Norsefire and Sutler are gone."
"So you want me to be Union Jack?" Moran asked.
"We thought it might suit you better than Captain America." Kate said. "But you won't be on your own. You'll be the leader of a team -we're calling it Excalibur -and we already have a few members."
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The Yeti came for Clarissa before dawn, waiting patiently outside her tent until she sensed them, dressed and came out. They looked very much like the blurred images she had seen of the Sasquatch of North America, except that these were snow-white. There were four of them. They didn't speak, but conveyed with looks and gestures what they expected of her.
With them gathered around her like an escort, they moved into the pass. The eternal blizzard that raged here, and which had prevented Clarissa from entering the previous day, seemed to part before them and close behind them. They moved in a small zone of calm. The way was steep and covered in deep snow, but Clarissa negotiated it easily. It led down rather than up, ending in a sheer cliff face.
Here, the tallest of the Yeti stepped forward and traced a sign on the stone with his forefinger. Without transition, a cave opened and they entered. The cave was rough-hewn and not large, but a small fire burned at the rear of it. The Yeti proceeded to light torches from this fire, before escorting Clarissa into a tunnel that opened in the back of the cave.
The tunnel was also rough-hewn, and only just wide and high enough to accommodate the party. It too led downward, but was not dangerously steep. Clarissa did not know how long they walked for, and a check of her watch confirmed only that it had stopped the moment they entered the pass. But finally, a light appeared ahead of them and grew rapidly larger.
Clarissa stepped out of the tunnel into warm sunlight. Before her, a gentle green slope ran into the distance. She could hear a stream nearby and the singing of birds. Further down, the slopes became wooded, and in the far distance she could make out slender towers of white marble.
Then a woman approached them. She might have been Chinese or Japanese by her features and long dark hair. She was wearing a robe in various shades of green and her ageless face was dominated by luminous dark eyes. The Yeti bowed to her, nodded to Clarissa, then went back to the tunnel.
"Greetings, Little Sister." The womans' voice was low and clear. "You are prompt to your time."
Clarissa stepped forward. "I'm…" She began, but the smaller woman raised a hand and Clarissa found herself unable to continue.
"Your outer name is both useless and meaningless here, Little Sister." She was told. "In due course we will find a name for you, and much else." She indicated a pavilion pitched nearby. "For now, you have had a long journey and your clothing is not suitable to the warmth of the Valley. You shall bathe, and change, and we shall take refreshment together. Come."
She linked her arm with Clarissas' and they began to walk.
"I'm kind of anxious to get started…" Clarissa ventured.
"We already have." The woman told her. "Here, even the simplest actions have purpose and meaning. You will come to understand, Little Sister."
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"Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Executive?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs said.
"Spectre, for short." The other man told him.
Gibbs was a man of medium height and sturdy build, with close-cropped silver hair, a rugged face and blue eyes. The face was largely impassive, but the eyes had a thousand-yard stare that unnerved most people. The other man was older, how much older was impossible to say. He was tall and gaunt, his face lined and his eyes hooded. He smoked constantly, often lighting one cigarette from the end of the previous one.
"Been a long time, Gunny." He said after a while.
"That it has, General." Gibbs replied. "I heard you retired?"
"I did." The General said. "But they brought me back for this job."
"What is the job anyway?" Gibbs asked. "They haul me out of NCIS and bring me here. For what?"
"We want you to be the Director of Spectre, Gibbs." The General replied. "A whole new operation."
"I'm done with black ops!" Gibbs told him.
"This isn't black." The General explained. "Mysterious, yes, but loud mysterious, visible mysterious, public mysterious. Savage had his Fantastic Four, and they made people in Metropolis feel good and safe. They also did some good work on the terrorists and drug cartels.
"That's what Spectre is for. You're gonna be flashy and noisy, sure. But the work will be real, and your new team will have full means and immunity. Justice being seen to be done."
"I've already got a team." Gibbs said.
"They'll be coming with you." The General informed him. "Agent McGee will be your computer guy, codename Cypher. Agent DiNozzo will be chief investigator, they'll call him Nightwing. Agent David has already agreed to be the new Black Widow -she has the training. We also have a former Navy SEAL, Commander Steve McGarrett, who's willing to be the new Captain America."
"What's with the codenames?" Gibbs wanted to know.
"Loud but mysterious." The General repeated. "The public love their heroes, but we don't always want the bad guys to have their names, addresses and Social Security numbers. We lose too any good people that way."
"Gonna need more people." Gibbs noted.
"Got some." The General said. "The Batman and Iron Man are willing to work with you. Weapon X is on board, but only, he says, when and if you really need him. There's a kid in New York calls himself Spider-Man, who's happy to join as long as he gets paid – not greedy, just needs a steady salary. Another youngster from Central City they call the Flash has signed up. So has Victor Stone."
"The Cyborg?" Gibbs asked. "I heard he was unstable?"
"More like unsociable." The General replied. "But he understands what we're doing, and he approves."
"It's a start." Gibbs allowed. "But I don't do politics!"
"Spectre will be apolitical." The General said. "You'll be privately funded by Stark-Wayne and Hidalgo, but you'll be in charge, Gibbs, my word on that!"
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The Presidential election the following November produced the largest voter turnout for decades. The new President-Elect promised stronger measures to contain the spread of the St Marys' virus and to try to heal the fractures that were growing between various States and the Union.
All this was almost overshadowed by the spectacular fall of the Norsefire government in the UK. A mass demonstration in London -millions of people wearing Guy Fawkes masks and cloaks assembling near the old Houses of Parliament. The destruction of that building in a spectacular explosion. The discovery of the bodies of Arch-Chancellor Sutler, Party Leader Creedy and several soldiers in an abandoned part of the Underground. To everyones' surprise, control was taken by Eric Finch, Minister of Investigations and head of the 'Nose'. Finch proceeded to dismantle the governments' surveillance systems, abolish the unnecessary rationing and have the entire membership of the Finger – Norsefires' secret police -arrested. The Norsefire Party was disbanded, and a year later, Finch stepped down to allow elections to be held. These resulted in a landslide victory for the Citizens' Party, led by Evey Hammond. A statue of the revolutionary V, in his Guy Fawkes costume, was set up amid the ruins of the old Parliament building. Every Fifth of November, a wreath of Scarlet Carson roses is laid at the foot of the memorial.
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Doug Ramsey looked out of the window. He never tired of watching Earth as it rolled past beneath him. It hadn't taken him long, with Fates' help, to decipher the systems and databases of this abandoned alien space station. Why its owners -who called themselves the Kree – had left it here empty for a millennium, he had yet to discover, but he would in time.
What had taken time was getting accustomed to his new body. He could see his reflection in the window now. Tall, powerfully-built, with deep-socketed dark eyes and a dark red skin, wearing a uniform-type outfit in dark green and dull gold. Appearance was one thing, and something Doug had never cared deeply about, but this body's ability to alter its' mass and density at will was a skill it would be a while before he could fully master. Once he had, though, there would be a lot to do! He had a vision for the future.
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It had taken some persuasion, but Pat Savage had eventually agreed to stay on as CEO of the Hidalgo Corporation. The base in the Republic of Hidalgo itself, however, was taken over by Doc Savage and Charles Xavier as a study and training centre for Mutants.
The bodies of Diana Prince Savage and Wonder Woman were cremated, and the ashes sealed in an adamantium container. The head of Clark Kent was placed in a similar one. Both containers were set into a block of concrete, which was reinforced with more adamantium, then coated with a foot-thick layer of lead. The whole thing was taken out to sea by the Blackhawks and lowered overboard above the deepest point of the Laurentian Abyssal. No point in taking chances.
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Merlin slept, and dreamed. In his dreams he saw the history of Mankind flow past, as he had been promised. It had been part of the bargain when the Kree had sealed him, along with all the worlds' magic, into the Crystal Cave. If humans had kept their magic, they would not have achieved most of the technology they had. Races who had magic, the Kree had told him, seldom developed advanced technology. But if Humanity were to play their part in the future they would need both. The time would come, they promised, when he and the magic would be awoken.
That time was near, Merlin knew, for now darker, unbidden visions entered his dreams more and more frequently. Glimpses of submerged Cyclopean cities whose weed-draped towers concealed presences that dreamed even as he did. Presences inimical to Mankind, trapped there for millions of years, but still waiting, still patient, knowing their time would come. With the visions came the words of Abdul Al-Hazred, the mad poet: "That is not dead that can eternal lie, and with strange aeons, Death itself may die."
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Ultron had a back-up, of course he did. He'd felt Fate nibbling at the edges of his systems, and had known he was finished. So he took steps while he still could.
But this Ultron wasn't going to be content to crawl around micro- circuits and float around the cloud. This Ultron had built himself a body. A powerful, armoured, heavily-armed body.
I want to be where the people are. He thought. And kill them!
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The poor dears think this is the end. Fate mused. But it's only the beginning. And beginnings are times of great delicacy.