Episode Two - '…Then So Below'

Of course some people say that everything that happens, happens for a reason, that we're all part of a collective intelligence and that the universe is intrinsically an ordered and rational construct. Me, I'm not so sure. The more I read and the more I look around me today, the less sense things seem to make. The problem is we don't learn from history, and what's more I suspect our natural state is one of barbarism. That thin veneer of civilization that separates you and me from the beasts inside our heads is a by-product of living in a society where you no longer have to compete to obtain the basic necessities of life. Take away our comfortable air conditioned homes, our permanently stocked super markets, our MTV and our soap operas, our dial-a-date romances and convenience-based lifestyles and we'd soon revert back to shaggy haired cavemen, beating the crap out of each other for fresh meat and the chance to fuck a potentially child bearing woman.

Elenor tells me the apocalypse is coming. Sometimes she has this look in her eyes like she's seen the future, or something worse than the future. She goes into these quiet mood things and locks herself away to watch TV and eat chocolate. Herne tells me she wasn't always like this.

I found Elenor standing by the skyline windows of our penthouse floor, overlooking the Thames River, this morning. She had a white sheet wrapped around her body and she was holding it tightly in place with one hand. Her long blonde hair was ruffled and I sensed she'd been up all night worrying about something. I made her and Raven some breakfast and brought Elenor's plate up to the penthouse level. Elenor took the glass of orange juice without saying a word. When I asked her what was wrong she simply said, "There's a storm coming."

But on a more trivial note, I'm really looking forward to Halloween this year. The British don't seem to celebrate Halloween the same way we do in the US, and I'm determined to show everyone in the Circle how much fun it can be. This is going to be an October the 31st that they'll never forget.

Deep Space - 2001 - Now

The UN supply ship, the Starlight, was one of a small fleet of ageing ships built in the last decade of the 20th century. Unarmed, with a minimal crew, the ships flew at sub light speeds between the various Tabula Rasa watchtowers scattered between Earth and Jupiter. The Tabula Rasa teleporters had proved to be unreliable beyond the scope of lunar orbit. Experiments had tried to incorporate Oroboran beam technology but with little success. Despite an aggressive research budget, mankind was till relying on slower than light drives to patrol the galaxy as late as 2001.

The UN Starlight had unloaded its cargo at the station orbiting Mars and was on its way back home. It had a crew of three consisting of Captain Holly Benton, Engineer Martin Bisley and Second Engineer Ryan Thomas. Three months out of Mars the ship had suffered a problem with the internal cooling system. Consequently the cooling vents were now only operating at a fraction of their normal strength. The average temperature inside the ship was 37 degrees centigrade, except for the sealed cargo hold that boasted a cool 12 degrees. The control room was the hottest - sometimes boasting temperatures over the 40 degrees mark. The cargo hold temperature was a constant irritation to the crew. The hold was sealed at Mars, making access impossible without blasting a hole through the inner bulkheads. Consequently Holly had got used to flying the ship nude, or wearing just panties and bra when the two men had to be on the flight deck with her. Holly was used to sitting in the fake-plastic-leather flight seat, her body dripping with sweat, a wet towel filled with ice cubes pressed to her head. Ice was a luxury on board the UN Starlight. The small fridge wasn't able to make enough ice to cope with the demand. As soon as ice was fully formed it was immediately put to use and fresh water added to the fridge.

Sleeping at night was impossible without recourse to sleeping tablets. Even these were running low and Holly reckoned that the last two months of flight would have to be drug free unless they began rationing now. No one was happy on board ship. Days rolled into days, as there was nothing to do but watch the monitors and sweat. So when the on board sensors picked up a signal radiating a steady ping-ping-ping-ping on a deep, sub-space frequency, curiosities were naturally aroused. This was something new.

"Are you seeing it too, Holly?" asked Ryan as he sat on the arm of her chair in the pilot's cockpit.

"Well I'm seeing something. Magnify times thirty." The on-board computer clicked and whirred as the camera lens on the hull of the ship rotated slightly. The image was now sharply in focus. It was a man, curled into a foetal ball, floating through space.

"Magnify times twenty again and zoom in on his face." The computer enhanced the image as requested. Holly leaned back in her seat and mopped her forehead with the last of her ice. "Look... did you see that. He just blinked. He's alive."

"That's impossible, Holly. He's breathing vacuum. He can't be alive."

"There - he just blinked again!"

"Fuck..." Ryan opened a cold can of Tasty Cola from the ship's vending machine. He pressed the ice cold metal of the can against his face. "This isn't natural."

Holly crossed one of her bare legs under her bum. She turned to face her engineer. "You know we have to investigate this?"

"Are you kidding? That has to be some sort of alien thing out there. We can't take it on board."

"It looks human."

"Humans don't breathe vacuum!"

"Super heroes do. Run a library check on Tabula Rasa super heroes listed as missing in action in space battles."

"Okay. You got it." Ryan leapt to his feet and crossed to the library terminal. He sat down, clearing various coffee cups and sheets of paper from the terminal surface.

The library search had proved fruitless. For two hours Holly, Ryan and Martin sat watching the figure watch them. Its curious eyes regarded the ugly hull of the grey cargo vessel with a detached and emotionless expression. Free from the constraints of gravity, his body was slowly spinning in a circular pattern as it drifted steadily through space.

"Nothing, not a damned thing," announced Ryan as he threw more computer prints onto the table. Mother," (he indicated the onboard computer) "can't identify anyone from the Tabula Rasa who's unaccounted for. All the dead super heroes were either recovered or Dr Galaxy confirmed that their bodies were atomised when he briefly communed with those seventh dimensional spirit guardians three years ago."

"Is that what all that was about?" asked Martin. "I thought Dr Galaxy was making contact to prevent an invasion by para-demons?"

"No, that was the official version. There's a Tabula Rasa protocol from the twenty first century that states we don't advertise the existence of other dimensions. Not good for public morale to know there are twenty billion different versions of yourself walking around out there," said Holly.

"Twenty billion?"

"Okay, so I'm exaggerating. How should I know? Some guy just told me about it in a bar. I've never met a seventh dimensional spirit guardian."

Martin looked concerned. "So what are we going to do? He's alive for God's sake. We can't just leave him out there."

"God has probably very little to do with this," said Ryan.

"Ryan has a point - whatever he is, he could be dangerous."

"Or he could be in desperate need of being rescued! We have to pick him up."

Holly looked up at her colleagues. "What does Mother say?"

"What do you think?" Ryan, dressed only in boxer shorts and socks, drank some more ice-cold cola. "Mother says..." he drawled the words "we have to pick him up - Tabula Rasa directive 33.7. Why the fuck do we have to work for the galactic police department? What are we, the emergency services all of a sudden?"

"Okay, but I want all this transmitted to Highside and we'll wait for further instructions. This is all too much for us to make a decision. Ryan - get on the comms band; speak to someone important on that satellite. If I'm going to risk this ship, I want to be damn sure someone in charge knows what's happening."

Ryan moved to the comms panel and set about sending a coded pencil-band transmission.

Holly continued. "Martin, as you're so eager to save lives, get down to the shuttle bay and warm up a pod. Break out a suit, because if we get the clearance I'm sending you out to pick up our UFO." Holly felt her bare skin sticking with sweat to the plastic vinyl material of the chair. "Is there any more ice ready yet?"

The instructions from Highside were simple and straight forward. Pick up the body and divert the flight plan of the UN Starlight towards the Tabula Rasa command satellite. Once there, Magistra himself would take charge of the body personally.

"Looks like we get to meet one of the big guns," mused Holly as she poured cold water over her head. She regarded the young man as he sat, shivering slightly, under a reflective foil blanket. "Jesus, how can he be cold? It's 38 degrees in here."

"I think it's shock, Holly. I mean, I don't know... he's been floating in space - his metabolism obviously doesn't work the same way ours does." Ryan crouched down, facing the man's body.

"Well at least he's not going to ask for any of our ice." Holly knelt down as well. She knew her and her crew probably presented a strange sight - clad only in their underwear and thick socks to protect their feet from the hot floor metal. "Hi, I'm Holly Benton, Captain of the UN Starlight. Can you understand me?"

"Perfectly." The stranger regarded her with calm, clear eyes.

"Oh-kay. Do you have a name?"

"Jonathan Reich."

"We're taking you to Highside - the Tabula Rasa satellite. You'll be safe there - there's men waiting to take care of you." She regarded him curiously. "Are you a super hero?"

"No." Jonathan stared blankly at his feet.

"Are you some sort of space man?" asked Ryan.

Jon looked up grimly and smiled.

Highside - The Tabula Rasa satellite

The rooms were bright and antiseptic white. Everything - walls, ceiling and floor was coated in some sort of super grip, stainless plastic that was easy to keep sterile and clean. Jon was finding it difficult to face so much brilliant white after twenty-five years in the depths of space.

"Sit down Jonathan. How are you feeling?" Magistra indicated a comfortable straight backed chair beside his desk.

"Confused, disorientated, and a little nervous."

"That's understandable. You've been gone nearly 13 years and that's a long time. The world will probably look quite different. You've got a lot of catching up to do, but the Tabula Rasa will help you to adjust."

Jon sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. "How soon can I see my family?"

Magistra leaned forward with his elbows resting on the desk. "Like I said Jon, you've been gone a long time. There's a lot you're going to have to take in. I think we should take things slowly to begin with."

Jon suddenly became aware that his fingers were twitching of their own accord. He gripped his hands together tightly to try and conceal his nervousness. "This satellite was only just being built when I..."

"It was completed seven years ago, slightly ahead of the original time scale, thanks to some contract workers from Oroboros."

"It's impressive."

"It is that. Jon... how much do you remember about the accident on TR-5?"

Jon stared at the superhero. He blinked once and then replied, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He was lying.

"Trauma can do that to people, but the memories are probably still in your head somewhere. They may come back in time, with plenty of rest and recovery."

Jon nodded.

"This is probably not the right time to talk about this kind of thing, but would you consider a telepathic scan by a Tabula Rasa psycher?"

"No." Jon shook his head adamantly. "I'm not ready for something like that."

"I understand." Magistra dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "It was only a suggestion - probably not a very good one considering what you've been through."

"When do I get to speak to my family?"

"Jon, there's a couple of things you need to know about the medical scans we ran on you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not a Meta human? You don't possess any extraordinary powers or abilities, do you?"

"No, I never have done."

"It must strike you as strange then that you didn't die in space, that you survived for 13 years without air, food or water?"

Jon nodded.

"Do you have any explanation for this?"

"No, no I don't."

"None at all?"

"No."

"Hmm." Magistra reclined the back of his chair. "It's a statistical fact that 69% of all super powers occur by accident. Did you know that?"

"No I didn't."

"How old are you Jon?" Magistra placed his hand on Jon's medical report.

"Uh, let's see... I was 21 in 1988... it's, what, 2001? That makes me, um... 34..." Jon suddenly realised how much of his life he had lost. The best years of his life were gone and now middle age was approaching.

"Technically yes, but not according to your medical report. Your body hasn't aged since 1988. We can determine the age of a subject by the degree of tissue decay. Cells decay and the rate of decay can be measured quite accurately. Your body isn't decaying, Jon. You may have been alive for 34 years but you still possess a 21-year-old body. The evidence suggests you're immortal."

"What?"

"That's not to say you can't be killed with a bullet or a knife, but it looks like your body won't die from the natural ageing process. Why do you think that is?"

"I... I told you, I don't know."

"What happened on board TR-5?"

"I don't know!"

"I'm sorry Jon - I'm rushing you. We should take this more slowly."

"When can I speak to my family?"

"There's something else you need to know, Jon. Your mother and father are dead. They died last year in Rio. They were on holiday there. They had won a holiday in a supermarket competition. There was a terrorist attack. The terrorists detonated an Ebola virus bomb. Everyone in Rio died. I'm sorry."

"My parents..."

"I was advised not to tell you that right away, but I didn't think it was fair to withhold the information from you. You have a right to know."

"Mom... Dad..."

"Perhaps we should take a break. I'm sure you'll want some time to be alone."

"Cassie... my sister... what about Cassie?"

Magistra smiled. "She's fine, Jon. She's living in Los Angeles still - healthy, happy and well looked after. She receives a Tabula Rasa pension - we've made sure she's OK and she doesn't have to want for anything. We take care of our own."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. But Jon, you do realise, don't you?"

"What? Realise what?"

"She was six years old when you last spoke to her. She's nineteen years old now. It's going to take you some time to adjust and come to terms with the woman your sister has become. Physically she now looks as old as you do."

"Cassie."

"I think we will take a break now."

The Elysian Fields New Age Shop

The address belonged to a shop. Jon scratched his head and double-checked the hand written street name and number that he'd been given. No one had told him Cassie owned a shop. And what sort of shop was this? Jon peered in through the window and gazed at a window display full of quartz crystals, native Indian dream catchers, tarot cards, carved wooden Buddhas, exotic looking silver jewellery, and a few books (Tatiana's book of love spells, The Tibetan book of living and dying; something psychedelic by Carlos Castaneda, and the Big Book of Little Fairies). The sign above the shop read The Elysian Fields. The store was closed this time of night, but there was a doorbell for the flat on the first floor. Guessing this could be where Cassie lived, Jon pressed the buzzer and kept it pressed for a good five seconds. The intercom sparked to life.

"Yes?"

It was a woman's voice but Jon had no idea if it was his sister.

"I'm looking for Cassiopeia Reich."

"That's me." The voice sounded mature and confident. "Who's asking?"

"Your brother, Jonathan." Jon had to step back from the speaker as a great whoop of joy came from the first floor flat.

"Don't move! Don't move a muscle! I'll be right down!"

Jon hadn't really formed a mental picture of what Cassie might look like, so the thirty-year-old woman who opened the door might as well have been a complete stranger. She was Jon's height, not thin, but not fat either, with long brown hair with a square cut fringe. She wore a long purple crushed velvet skirt with tassels, a black t-shirt three sizes too big for her, tan colour sandals, and lots of cheap silver jewellery, especially bangles and toe rings.

"What's with all the mystical mumbo jumbo?"

"You saw my shop downstairs?"

"Yes I did. You're into this kind of stuff?"

Cassie nodded. "I'm an astrologer by trade, but the shop helps pay the bills."

"Astrology?"

"Yes, I've kept up the family tradition. The Reichs have always been interested in space."

"We've been interested in astronomy - in science - not this mystical mumbo jumbo... Dad would have had a fit if he..."

Jon's voice trailed off. Although he hadn't seen his parents in 13 years, Cassie had only lost them nine months ago. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." She folded her arms and stared out of the window. Tinkling wind chimes hung down from the curtain rail.

"No really." Jon took her hands and pulled her close. He hugged his sister and felt like a total shit. "I didn't mean... I'm sure dad would have been cool with all this."

"He wasn't. He thought it was a waste of time as well. He said I had wasted my time at university. He wanted me to be a lawyer."

Jon stared at his sister. He had lost twenty-five years of her life. He had never seen her grow up, and he never would. Here she was now, almost 20. All he could remember was a six-year-old child eating chocolate and smiling at him through a Tabula Rasa Comms camera. It wasn't fair. Jon suddenly hugged Cassie and began to cry. Cassie, startled, gripped him tightly and hugged him back.

Neither of them said very much for quite a while.

The Reich Family house

"I haven't touched anything since Mom and Dad died," explained Cassie as she turned her key in the locks. She pushed the front door open and flicked on the lights as all the blinds were drawn over the windows. "It was all so sudden. I felt so lost. Mom and Dad were all I had left after we thought you were killed."

Jon shuffled in silently behind his sister. This wasn't the house he remembered from his youth. Dad had moved to another part of Los Angeles nine years ago. He wandered as a stranger through a comfortable middle class home that should, by rights, have been familiar to him.

"You know Dad was so proud of you, Jon? Being in space and all." Cassie led Jon into the living room. One wall was covered in bookshelves - mostly astronomical works of science plus some classic fiction. Another wall boasted a large framed map of the stars. Cassie paused by the mantelpiece and touched a couple of trophies that had gathered dust in the last month. "Remember this, Jon?" she picked up a golden trophy shaped like a 1950s SF rocket ship. "You won this science prize in high school. Dad used to show it to everyone who visited us." Cassie returned the trophy to its rightful place and picked up a framed photo that sat close by. It showed an eighteen year old Jonathan Reich, beaming a broad smile as he sat in his new car - his present for passing his exams with straight As. Cassie looked around the room. "This is so hard, coming back here."

"They told me there was a bomb in Rio."

Cassie nodded. "Terrorists spread an Ebola virus. The Tabula Rasa tried their best, but everyone was killed. Mom and Dad..." Cassie was finding it hard not to cry, "it's so stupid... they never went anywhere on holiday..." she sniffed and drew the sleeve of her sweater across the bridge of her nose, "you know Dad... all he wanted to do was work in his lab, but Mom... Mom wanted a holiday, and then they won this competition..." the tears were coming stronger now. "It shouldn't have happened..."

Jon put his arm around Cassie and pressed her close to his chest. He was feeling confused. Why wasn't he grieving as hard as his sister? Deep down he knew that the Palantir, still in liquid form in his veins, was controlling his mood, countering any symptoms of depression. Jon gritted his teeth. He knew he should be grieving; he knew he should be crying, but the alien thing in his body was doing what it thought it had to do to protect him from dysfunctional behaviour.

Cassie sniffed again. "It's so stupid. It's been nearly a year now. I should be getting over this by now."

"Just take it easy. There's no hurry."

Cassie swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure. "Dad's study is through here." She took Jon's hand and led him down the hallway to another locked room. One of the keys on her key chain fit the lock. Inside was a book-lined shrine to science. Martin Reich's scientific papers were carefully racked alongside hundreds of file boxes of magazine clippings, but Jon's attention was immediately drawn to a familiar looking glass display cabinet. It was the same display cabinet that he had seen in his youth. The house may have changed, but the security case hadn't. Inside were a number of superhero trophies and gadgets, some dating back as far as the 1950s. These were the legacy of the Reich/Aquarius superhero dynasty.

Jon pressed his hand against the glass. His eyes fixed hard on the amulet that had been used by James Reich before he retired and passed it to his son. As the original Aquarius he had used it to draw energy from the zodiac constellations. With it, Aquarius had been able to charge his body to fire energy blasts.

"Key," said Jon.

"I don't have a key for the cabinet. There's probably a copy somewhere amongst Dad's things, but I haven't been able to face searching through his stuff."

"Never mind." Jon picked up a heavy brass science trophy and smashed the glass with a single blow.

"Jon!" shouted Cassie in dismay. "What are you doing?"

"Claiming my legacy." He reached into the broken case and withdrew the heavy amulet. It was a curious design, almost Egyptian in part, with a strange jewel set in its centre.

"None of those things are powered up. They're no use as..." Cassie didn't get to finish her sentence before the jewel suddenly exploded into life as Jon gripped the amulet tightly in both hands. Power rushed through the 50 year old circuitry. "I don't understand..."

"It's me," said Jon as he placed the amulet around his neck. "I have something inside me - that's how I survived in space. I think it has its own power source. It knows what I want."

"Jon... what are you talking about?" Cassie stared at the jewel as it hummed with life for the first time in nearly twenty years.

"Everything else is yours, Cassie. I don't want to claim anything." Jon looked at his sister. "The house, the money, Dad's patents - take it all."

"Jon..."

"You've got your life ahead of you, Cassie. I've just got revenge."

"Jon..."

"Someone killed my friends and stole twenty five years of my life. He stole the years I should have spent with you, and Mom and Dad. So I'm going to find him." Jon looked unnaturally calm as he spoke, "and then I'm going to kill him."

Vengeance

It hadn't been difficult to track down the retired superhero who used to be known as Preying Mantis. Jon had been allowed access to the Tabula Rasa computers, supposedly to re-orientate himself with events of the last thirteen years, but all Jon actually wanted to do was find out the hero's name and present address. Preying Mantis was Dr Miles Sallinger - he had retired in 1995 following a super powered battle in Seattle with something called the Star Eater. Apparently he was a hero. Apparently he had saved thousands of lives. Jon spat on the grass as he stared down at Sallinger's three million dollar home overlooking the Californian coast. He knew Sallinger was anything but a hero. The house was beautiful to look at - an architects dream built from super stress-free poly-fibres and safety glass. By day it gleamed white in the bright Californian sunshine, but tonight it was dark, illuminated only by coloured spot lamps in the garden. Two lights were on inside the house. A steep set of stone steps spiralled down to the private beach below, and Jonathan noticed a modern stair lift had been installed close by.

Your past has caught up with you, Preying Mantis, thought Jon as he touched the glowing amulet around his throat. You haven't even tried to hide from me. Why should you? You think I'm dead after all. Dead and floating in the cold reaches of space.

Jon shut his eyes. His mind raced back to the weeks and months and years in which he'd floated helplessly through the void, despairing of ever finding his way home again. Anyone else would have gone insane, but the Palantir had spared him even that. It had whispered to him through the dark years, comforted him every hour of the day, until daylight returned to his life.

Jon remembered the first few months, gripping tightly the hand of Sarah LaSalle. They had tied their belts together as they floated through vacuum. And then one day Jon woke up and his belt was loose and Sarah LaSalle was gone. He imagined her body, still alive, still conscious, with the other half of the Palantir inside her veins, still floating somewhere between the Moon and Mars. He had lost her, and perhaps she would never die. Perhaps she was doomed to live forever, kept alive by the alien thing inside her body - condemned to eternal silence and isolation. Jon wept for Sarah. The Palantir inside his body had never tried to suppress that emotion. Perhaps it did understand that human beings needed to grieve sometimes.

"I'm going to kill you Sallinger!" screamed Jonathan Reich as he stared down at the skylights set into the roof of the villa. "I'm going to hunt you down and kill you like the animal you are!"

Jon harnessed the power of the Zodiac jewel set into the amulet and rose weightlessly into the night sky. He flew steadily towards the nearest skylight.

Dr Miles Sallinger had been reading when the glass in the skylight exploded inwards. He dropped his book, Steppenwolf, by Herman Hesse, as the figure of Jonathan Reich floated to the ground, starlight streaming from jewel around his neck.

"You must be one of those post modernist heroes who take a relaxed attitude to wearing proper costumes," said Sallinger as he carefully picked up his tattered looking paperback. "It wasn't at all like that in my day. We wore our colourful costumes with pride." Dr Sallinger, the man who once called himself Preying Mantis, pushed his wheelchair along the polished wooden floor, past a series of antique Roman busts, towards the glaring figure that had suddenly invaded his home in the middle of the night. He was an old man of fifty-three, with grey hair and a shattered spine. "The superhero business isn't what it used to be. No one respects tradition anymore. Half of you don't even bother wearing masks."

"My name is Jonathan Reich and I've come to kill you."

"Ah. I see." Sallinger brought his wheelchair to a stop. "That explains why you came through the ceiling then."

"Preying Mantis..." Jon stared at the crippled man in his wheel chair. He was old - far older looking than Jon could remember.

"That's a name I haven't heard in many a year. I stopped answering to that name when I was pensioned out of the Tabula Rasa in 1995, following the accident that broke my spine. Do I know you? From the way you're staring so hatefully at me, I can only assume I should know you from somewhere. Did I perhaps stop your father from taking over the world?"

"You killed my friends! You killed the woman I loved! You stole 13 years of my life!"

Sallinger watched Jon with a measure of curiosity. "Did I?"

"Boxing Day, 1988 - on board the TR-5 satellite - you locked us in the airlock and opened the outer door. You killed us in cold blood and you laughed as we span helplessly into space." Jon pointed his finger at Sallinger.

"Ah... Yes... I see..."

"So you do remember?"

"Vaguely. I was younger then. The sins of youth."

"I hate you."

"Of course you do. If our roles were reversed I would hate you too." Sallinger smiled. "But you're disappointed, aren't you Jonathan? You didn't expect to find an old cripple here. You wanted to meet a healthy superhero that you could fight. I can see it in your eyes - you want to punch me around the room. You want to beat my face into a pulp. But you can't can you? You don't feel comfortable hitting an invalid. Such a shame. My misfortune has robbed you of the revenge you so rightly want."

"I'm glad you've been suffering like that." Jon indicated the wheelchair.

"Oh, it's not really suffering. I have a lovely house, and servants - the Tabula Rasa has been very kind. It's more than I deserve really, considering all that I've done in my life to undermine them."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't acting under Tabula Rasa orders when I came to take the Palantir. I was acting on behalf of the Tempel." Sallinger smiled. "Ah. You never realised that, did you? Tell, me, all these years... did you blame the Tabula Rasa for the evil done to you?"

"You're Tabula Rasa."

"Oh yes, but it is the Tempel that placed me deep within their ranks, like a sleeper agent, like a scorpion just waiting to strike."

"What's the Tempel?"

"The Tempel of Psychic Youth." Sallinger pushed his wheelchair along the floor towards the kitchen complex. "Care for some fruit juice?"

"No."

"The Tempel is a subversive organisation of talented psychics. For the last fifteen years we've worked our way into the ranks of the Tabula Rasa, to strike at them from within. Ours is a noble enough cause. We want to free humanity from the threat of superheroes. We want to wind the clock back to a time before caped crusaders battled each other in the skies."

"You want to take over the world?"

"No! We simply want to give you your world back, by any means necessary."

Jon watched the old man pour himself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"You don't seem particularly concerned with maintaining the secrecy of your Tempel. Suppose I inform the Tabula Rasa about this?"

"Oh, that's not going to happen." Sallinger sipped his orange juice.

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm going to kill you." Sallinger reached out with his mind and telepathically triggered the neural pain receptors in Jon's head. Jon fell back, screaming as Sallinger breached his mind.

"That's painful, isn't it? Does this come as something of a surprise?" Sallinger upped the pain levels a little. He clenched his hands together as he sat on his wheel chair gloating. "It looks like the elderly infirm cripple still has a couple of tricks up his sleeve after all. If you weren't screaming with pain I'm sure you'd be wondering how I could be doing this. 'He's not supposed to be able to do this. He's only supposed to be a grade one telepath.' Well, I've got news for you, Mr Reich, we're rather more powerful than the Tabula Rasa files officially realise. And now I'm going to squeeze your mind until it bursts like a ripe lemon."

Jon rose to his feet. "And I've got news for you. That Palantir you were looking for - it's inside me. Or rather half of it is." Jon advanced on the crippled hero. Sallinger threw another telepathic attack against Aquarius, but it dissipated harmlessly. "And half a Palantir is just enough to deflect your mental attacks once it recognises them. You should have killed me immediately, Sallinger. But you villains never do, do you?"

"Keep away!" Sallinger wheeled backwards. His chair bumped into the glass sliding doors that led to the veranda overlooking the cliffs and the sea below.

"I came here to kill you, Sallinger - kill you for what you did to me and my friends."

Sallinger pulled a gun from a concealed holster under his chair. Jon melted the barrel with a wave of energy triggered by the Zodiac jewel.

"You can't kill me - I haven't done anything. I'm still officially Tabula Rasa. They'll come after you. The Tabula Rasa psychics will see who killed me, and you'll be hunted down like a rabid dog."

Jon seized Sallinger by his shoulders and lifted him up out of the chair.

"Listen, Reich! I'm old - but you're still young - don't throw your life away for revenge - it's not worth it!"

"I don't have a life anymore." Jon destroyed the glass doors with a second blast of energy. He dragged Sallinger towards the edge of the veranda.

"Don't be stupid! You think you can make this look like an accident? Tabula Rasa telepaths will rewind this entire scene and see exactly what you did!"

Jon pushed Sallinger's body onto the guard rail and allowed his head to dangle over the edge. Heavy waves were crashing hard on the rocks below.

"It doesn't matter what your motive is! The Tabula Rasa will still hunt you down on principle!"

"Sallinger."

"Yes? Yes?"

"Read my lips: I... don't... care..." and with that Jon threw the crippled superhero over the edge. The body fell, twisting and turning until it hit the rocks below with a wet thump.

Jon walked slowly down the marbled steps that descended gradually to the level of the beach. He had liberated a bottled of champagne from Sallinger's kitchen and was swigging it without the need for a glass as he made his way down the stairs. It was a warm evening with the hint of a fresh sea breeze. The waves crashed rhythmically against the rocks below, not quite reaching the shattered body of Miles Sallinger as it lay twisted and broken beside a rather spectacular rock pool. Justice had been done. Jon gazed up at the stars in the firmament. The cloudless sky displayed them to spectacular effect. Somewhere up there in the heavens the desolate hulk of TR-5 still orbited the moon, an eternal monument to the 8 men and women who had died on Boxing Day 1988. Jon raised the bottle to the heavens in a silent salute.

Jon paused on the fifteenth step above the rock pool. He sat down and stared at the body of Preying Mantis. He was right of course. The Tabula Rasa would investigate the death, and they would know who did it. But that was tomorrow, and tomorrow was still three hours away.