Unlike Artemis, whose death was kept quiet, Julius Root found coming back to life very difficult. He was constantly swarmed by paparazzi, reporters, and even ordinary citizens looking for anything from an interview to what the "other side" was like.

They quickly figured out three things. The first was that Julius hated this treatment, the second was that he was very good at disappearing, and the third was that if you went looking for him, there were no guarantees on your safety. After the third cameraman required healing, they stopped mobbing him for questions, and stuck to taking pictures of the resurrected elf from a distance.

Julius had many reasons to be irritable, the foremost being Trouble Kelp. He liked the elf, and in fact had molded him to be his successor, but now that plan had backfired. There was no point in there being two recon/retrieval commanders, and Trouble was currently in his seat.

Holly had tried offering him a post in Section 8. She and Foaly had taken over the running of the LEP special forces division after Wing Commander Vinyaya's death, and she could have given him any position he chose. He didn't like the cloak and dagger that went with the secretive department though, and had declined.

Which brings us to his current whereabouts: sitting in Trouble's office, smoking a fungal cigar.

Trouble did not like this.

"Would you please not smoke that in here?" He said, one hand at his temple while he looked over the datapads of paperwork before him. The foul smoke made his head hurt.

Root took several last puffs on the cigar before smothering it on the sole of his boot.

"I remember the days when a little smoke was no problem for someone in such a hard-won position such as commander." Root said, chuckling to himself.

"That's because the commander was the one smoking." Trouble turned on an air filter on his desk, only effective now that there was no new smoke being produced. "It took a whole year to get the smell of those things out of the carpet in here, I don't want to have to do it again."

These arguments were common in the week since Julius' return. He would come in, start into some old habit that he knew Trouble detested (or at least disliked), and continue to push his buttons until Trouble would get exasperated and send him to the Ops booth for more tests. Eventually, he reasoned, Kelp would be forced to find him something to do.

"Why don't you go and see what tests Foaly and Artemis have for you?" Trouble said, playing his part, "Come and see me when you're done."

This was not part of the normal exchange, and caught Root's interest. He knew, however, that Kelp was battle-hardened and would not give up what he had planned without extensive torture, and that took too much time. With a dismissive grunt, he got up and left the office.

Artemis had been coming up with test after test for him since his return. Apparently it was blowing off frustration at the tests that had been run on him after his own resurrection. If Julius had read some of the details of these tests, he wouldn't have been surprised at the scene in the Ops booth when he arrived.

Artemis and No. 1 were standing back to back in the center of the room, each surrounded by batteries. Not the simple fusion batteries used to power most of Foaly's creations, but powerful magical batteries used for fine-tuned controlled manipulation of magic.

No. 1 was charging them as fast as he could, red beams shooting forth into the batteries with matching sparks flying off from his hands and the contact point where the energy was absorbed. Root was not surprised by the imp or his magic, as the demon had run many of the tests on him so far. What surprised him was Artemis.

Artemis was doing much the same as No. 1, but with distinct differences. Thick golden ropes of light wound their way down his arms, off his fingers, and into the batteries. The sparks coming from the contact points were being controlled, redirected into nearby batteries to preserve energy. Root had never seen Artemis use magic and, having not read the files on his resurrection like Artemis asked (for comparison to his own experiences), did not know that he even had any. His yell of surprise ended the competition as both parties stopped their displays of power.

"What in Frond's name is going on?" He yelled, torn between anger and horror.

In the corner, Foaly was counting under his breath. "five, six, seven, eight . . . Artemis wins!" Foaly cradled one of the large batteries, looking ecstatic, "It would have taken months to do this back when I was only working with elven warlocks!"

No. 1 looked downcast at his loss, until Artemis put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay my friend," he said, looking tired, "I may have been able to put out more, but unless I refill soon I'll be out, I don't get to keep going forever like you do. I still need the ritual."

Root had had enough of being left out of the conversation. "Someone want to tell me what the fireworks sprouting from mud freak over here are all about?" He said, looking pointedly at Foaly. The centaur jumped into the explanation.

"If you had bothered to read those files I sent you, you'd know." He said, earning a scathing look, "As a side effect of the cloning process, Artemis here gained the use of magic. Albeit in his own, unique way. He's got all the power of No. 1, more if he pushes hard enough. The downside being that he has to perform the ritual or find some way of replenishing the magic, instead of simply going to sleep like No. 1 here." As he spoke, Artemis walked over to one of the batteries and pulled a large portion of it's energy out, giving himself enough magic to last the month. When he was done, he took over for Foaly.

"I've got a high capacity it seems, allowing me to actually utilize the massive power without going dry every five seconds." He bounced a golden spark between his hands, "We're not sure if it's my humanity or the chrysalis that gives it its distinctive colour and behaviour though."

Curiosity sated, Root went through a series of magical tests and scans, making sure his own magic was working normally. They finished this off with an infusion from No. 1, which left the former commander torn between mild unease at the procedure, and the heady high of running hot. Done with his tests, he headed back to Trouble's office, pulling out a cigar as he went.

In the Ops booth, No. 1's communicator went off. Suddenly, he was very, very giddy.

"What're you worked up about?" Foaly asked, trying to look over the imp's shoulder.

"Qwan is letting me take the new warlocks on a field trip!" No. 1 began to babble on about the new demon warlocks he and Qwan had been training. He began to ramble about the different eras he could take them to when another alarm went off.

"And No. 5 would love to see the renaissance, he's a genius with time tunnels . . . what is that?" No. 1 looked up at the large screen Foaly was working with.

Foaly just looked on in abject horror. On the screen, the front steps of the plaza were being ripped out by some form of magical disruption. From the cracks crawled fairies. Not whole, living fairies, but corpses, animated with magic to move once more, defying the deathly injuries that had claimed their lives.

"That, No. 1" Artemis began, also transfixed, "Is very, very bad."