Episode Four - 'It’s a Rainy Day Sunshine Girl'

Alyson had a small place on the first floor of a house near Camden Lock. It was smaller than the apartment she had rented in the past and Elenor wondered what could have made her move here of all places. The hallway door led to a small living room/bedroom which in turn led to a cramped kitchen and a toilet. Elenor noticed there was no bathroom. Like most of the rooms in Camden these were poorly decorated and barely furnished. The bedroom was full of boxes containing Alyson's wardrobe and a few personal possessions that she'd carried with her from lodging to lodging since her university days. Thick curtains hid the rooms from the prying eyes of the world outside. In one corner stood a small midi-hi-fi system and a pile of dance CDs. A rug covered the floor, barely hiding the faded carpet. Bean bags acted as furniture.

"Make yourself at home. I'll pour some wine." Alyson was no longer limping. The blood on her blouse had dried up and she showed no signs of ever having been shot.

"We should check your gun shot wounds first," said Elenor.

"No point. The bullets passed clean through. My body heals very quickly now."

"I don't understand any of this. How have you suddenly got super powers? What happened to you?"

"All in good time. What's the point of having a secret origin if it isn't secret any more?" Alyson winked as she uncorked the bottle of red.

"This is serious stuff, Alyson. I saw you move in the alleyway. You're really fast."

"I know." Alyson poured two glasses of wine and grinned. "I reckon I could take you in a fight, Ellie. I'm quicker than you, I'm stronger than you, and wounds heal within minutes. We're really hard."

"We?"

"Me and the other guys."

"Other guys?" Elenor took the glass and sat down on a bean bag.

"Hmm. I'm a member of a super group. We call ourselves the Furies."

"Super group? There aren't any super groups in London. I'm sure I'd know if there were."

"Oh, we don't show our faces in polite society much. We operate in the shadows."

"What's going on? What happened to you? Who are the others?"

"Tim, Alice, Rain, Miklos, Russell, Anya, Ligger, Peter, Simone, Greta, Wade, Kristin…"

"Woah, hold on - how many of you are there? This is sounding like an army!"

"Thirty eight."

"Thirty eight?! There's thirty eight new super heroes in London?"

"Thirty nine now there's me."

"Alyson - this is sounding like an army. I'm getting concerned. This sounds like it could get out of hand."

"You sound jealous, Ellie. What's up - afraid you've had your day and the Furies are going to be the new face of London?"

"I'm concerned that we've got thirty nine super humans floating around London that no one knows about. Power corrupts, Alyson. Who's keeping them in check?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Now I am getting concerned." Elenor grabbed some paper and a pen. "Okay, give me names and powers."

"We all have the same powers."

"What?"

"We've all got super strength, super speed and invulnerability. You don't want to get on our bad side, Ellie."

"How can you all have the same super powers? Don't any of you have any variations?"

"No. You're looking at the future, Ellie. We're going to be so cool. Anyway, you’re the one that needs looking at. You’re limping really badly. You might have a broken ankle."

Alyson made Elenor lie down on some blankets. She gently unlaced the boot from her injured foot and eased it off. The lower leg was covered in a wide purple bruise, but luckily the bone didn't seem to be fractured. "No high kicks for you for a while," she said. "Leave the fighting to me from now on. I can take it."

Elenor gazed up at Alyson from the floor. There was something about this she didn't like. Her friend had a hard edge to her that hadn't been there a few weeks ago. What had happened? What could have happened in such a short time? "Let's take a look at the rest of you then. Alyson knelt by Elenor's stomach and loosened her coat. She ran her fingers underneath the crème coloured sweater and pulled it up. She was about to pull the sweater over Elenor’s head when suddenly Alyson yelped loudly and jumped back. She clutched her hand and moaned with pain.

"What?" Elenor lifted herself up and stared at her friend. "What's wrong? Alyson? You're scaring me - what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Alyson pressed her back to the living room wall and tucked her hand away. “I’m sorry – nerves I guess.”

"What?" Elenor sat up. Her sweater was half way over her head so she pulled it back down over her body. "You just acted like a snake bit you. What the hell's wrong? I'm really getting worried. Talk to me - I'm your friend."

"Can't." Alyson turned her head. "It's okay. I'm sorry."

"Alyson!"

"Don't ask me questions I can't answer." Alyson walked into the kitchen. When she came out she had wrapped a bandage around her hand. Elenor in the meantime had hoisted herself up onto a bean bag. "I think I'm going to bed now. You can join me if you like, but please keep your clothes on."

"Why?" Elenor was growing more concerned. "Alyson, you're not turning Lesbian on me, are you? I mean, this isn't about you suddenly finding me sexy and you can't cope with the way you're feeling?"

Now it was Alyson's turn to stare. And then she burst out laughing and the tension was broken. "God, no Ellie. I still like men. I just… I can't really talk about it. Just keep your clothes on tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Can I take my boots off?"

"Of course. That's not a problem. But keep your sweater on." Alyson stripped off her own clothes in quick succession and climbed into the large double bed. Elenor watched as she twisted herself up in the duvet. What was this? Did Alyson now have some sort of kryptonite vulnerability to touching breasts? They had been friends since University and it meant nothing to share a bed together. So why was Alyson suddenly acting so strange? Why had she recoiled from Elenor's body? What was wrong with her? Elenor felt worried for her friend. She had to find out what had happened since Alyson had run out on her in New Mexico. Something wasn't right. It felt strange climbing into Alyson's bed dressed in pants and sweater. It felt strange to see Alyson swaddled protectively in the duvet. Elenor reached to the side and turned out the light.

The throbbing in Elenor's ankle woke her at ten in the morning. Alyson was still asleep, curled up in the womb like duvet. She looked so peaceful when she slept. With exaggerated care Elenor lowered first her good leg onto the floor followed by her swollen foot. As expected the foot protested as soon as she placed any weight on it. With a series of unsophisticated hops Elenor made her way towards the kitchen. Breakfast was called for. Elenor opened the fridge and found it virtually empty. Elenor could see half a bottle of milk, some eggs, a carton of orange juice, some decaying ham, numerous pots of relish and a mysterious looking parcel mummified with gaffa tape. Elenor picked the package up - it was heavy enough - and weighed it in the palm of her hand.

"There's some cereal in the cupboard above your head," said Alyson suddenly. Elenor jumped and turned round. For some reason she felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong.

"I didn't hear you get up."

"I'm very quiet. That's not for eating." Alyson pointed at the gaffa taped package.

"Oh." Elenor placed it back in the fridge. "I was just looking for…"

"I'll make breakfast. I know where everything is." Alyson placed her shoulder under Elenor's arm and helped her limp back into the living room.

Alyson rustled up some scrambled eggs and hot toast and a pot of coffee. She sat down at the breakfast table and watched Elenor scoff the eggs down quickly.

“You’re hungry,” said Alyson sweetly. She watched her friend closely. Watched the way her mouth chewed the toast and the way her little nose wrinkled when she sniffed.

“And you’re not eating.” Elenor pointed a fork at the rest of the food. Alyson picked up a fork and stabbed at some of the scrambled eggs. She popped the food in her mouth, chewed and swallowed.

“Happy now?” Alyson placed the fork back on the table. “I really just do coffee in the mornings. Got to look after my figure. We can’t all have natural slut curves like you.” She grinned. This had been their joke conversation since university.

“You tart,” replied Elenor.

“Slut,” said Alyson, but the smiles had faded from their faces. For the joke wasn’t funny any more. The memory of what Alyson had said in New Mexico was still fresh in Elenor’s mind. She placed her fork on the half finished plate.

“You really hurt me, you know. With what you said in Mexico.”

Alyson nodded. “I know, Ellie.” She got up and paced around the room. “What are you going to do today? You can stay as long as you like, of course.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a place – an attic room – and anyway, you don’t want me as a flat mate at the moment. I had a run in with the police.”

Alyson nodded. “I saw the papers.”

Elenor spooned some more of the scrambled eggs into her mouth. “You haven’t asked me whether I did it. Killed him, that is.”

Alyson shrugged. “I don’t really care. If you did kill him I’m sure you had a good reason.”

“Well I didn’t kill him.”

“Okay. That’s fine.” Alyson folded her arms and sat on the windowsill. She hadn’t made any attempt to open the curtains. Sometimes anonymity in Camden was a sensible precaution. If people could see in to your room they might decide to burgle it while you were out.

“Fancy coffee somewhere?”

“No, not really.” Alyson smiled. “I’m a night owl these days. I just potter around the flat during the day and venture out in the evening when Camden wakes up. There are some good places to go in the evening. But if you’re going out, could I ask a favour?”

“I guess so.” Elenor pushed the empty plate away and finished off her coffee.

“That package in the fridge. It’s for a friend who lives in the Elephant, south of the River. If you’ve got some time on your hands could you drop it off for me? His name’s Erik. He’s a superhero.”

“One of the ‘Furies’?”

Alyson nodded. She seemed to be a little embarrassed.

“It’s not drugs, is it?” asked Elenor.

Alyson shook her head. “Nothing illegal, Ellie.”

“Okay.”

The Elephant & Castle, London

Alyson's friend lived in a run down terraced housing block near the Elephant and Castle. Many of the ground floor windows were boarded up, and pasted over with fly sheets advertising out of date gigs and club nights. Everything seemed to be vandalised. Broken glass lay on the pavement, surrounded by litter, stubbed cigarette ends, and heavy looking bricks. Two derelict cars sat parked on one side, both with their side windows smashed. The street was bleak concrete - the scab end of London's housing developments. A couple of urchin children watched Elenor as she walked calmly towards the concrete stairwell that led up to the first floor door to number 23B. A few months ago Elenor would have looked horribly out of place, but now, dressed in a pair of army surplus combat pants, a black hooded sweat shirt and a long great coat that had probably seen service at the battle of Stalingrad, Elenor resembled just another housing estate girl wrapped up against the cold. She had helped herself to some of Alyson’s clothes before leaving the flat. Alyson had never worn clothes like this, and they were so obviously second hand. The garments suggested Alyson was short of money too. Elenor already knew she had quit her job, and now it seemed she was living in Camden – home to drop outs and outcasts – what was all this about? Perhaps seeing this friend, Erik, might answer a few of her questions. By all accounts he had the same super powers as Alyson.

Elenor climbed the steps, avoiding the puddles of piss, the used condoms and another kid who was playing with a toy car at the point where the steps twisted ninety degrees. The boy stared at her a she approached the door to the first floor flat. Elenor chewed her lip and pressed the doorbell. She hadn't expected it to work and of course it didn't. Never mind, she pounded three times with her knuckles on the door. It was a bitterly cold morning and Elenor longed for a pair of gloves to wear. Her fingers were numb and bright pink in colour. She rubbed her hands together to get some circulation going. She was still limping on her bad foot.

"Who is it?" said a cautious voice from inside the flat.

"I'm a friend of Alyson's. She asked me to bring you a package." Elenor stared down at the street below. The children had spotted a lean, tatty looking black cat and were entertaining themselves by throwing stones at it. “Hey! You children! Leave that cat alone!”

“Fahk off!” shouted one of the children. The other child stuck two fingers up at Elenor and laughed.

"You've got my stuff?" said the voice behind the door.

"Yes, I've got your 'stuff'." Alyson had better not be using her to deliver drugs. Elenor stared at the package, No, it was too big to hold drugs, not unless Alyson was suddenly shipping millions of pounds worth of heroin at a time.

"Just give me a minute," said Erik. Elenor heard a key turning in a number of locks. She could hear bolts being slid back in the door. She pulled her great coat tighter about her body and wished the man would hurry up so she could find the nearest Starbucks and get warm again.

"I've unlocked the door. This is very important- count to five and then open the door. Go down the hallway, and I'll be in the living room on the right."

"What?" Elenor put her hand on the door handle, but the man on the other side of the door was still holding it firm.

"No - count to five. Don't open the door just yet."

"All right - whatever." Elenor sniffed. She could do with a scarf too. "One… two… three…" she could hear someone withdrawing from the door. This had better not be some kind of trick. If he was planning on doing something funny she'd throw him off the balcony. "Four… five…" Elenor opened the door and peered into the dark hallway. A pale light at the end of the hall spilled out from the living room. "Hello? I'm coming inside." She tucked the package under her arm and closed the front door behind her. What was it with English super heroes? American ones were bad enough, but this was just getting weird.

Erik, if that was really his name, sat on a sofa watching daytime TV. It was some cheaply made quiz show for bored housewives and terminally stoned students. The room was dingy, small, and smelt of damp. Erik was dressed in baggy jeans, a thick jumper and a pair of truly disgusting looking trainers. His hair was brown and badly cut. His skin however was smooth and virtually blemish free.

"I'm Elenor."

"Erik. Sit down." He waved at a second hand arm chair that didn't match the sofa. Elenor sat down on it after placing a newspaper between her and the stained seat.

"Alyson was keen that you got this urgently today." Elenor waved the brown paper package, tied tightly with string. "I'm guessing it's not your birthday?"

"No." Erik took the package with a nervous smile. He felt its weight in his hand. "You've come from Camden?"

"Yep." Elenor nodded. "And believe me it's cold out there."

"Can I get you some tea?"

"What kind?" Elenor looked up curiously.

"Uh… I bought it in Waitrose."

"Lapsang, Darjeeling, Assam?"

"It's… just… tea…"

"Did you know that the difference between good tea and cheap tea is only 70 pence a packet?" Elenor examined her fingernails.

"Uh…"

"So even if you are a little hard up, a good cup of tea is still well within everyone's grasp." She smiled. Behind Erik there was a big poster on the wall for an underground rock band that she'd never heard of.

"I don't have a problem with cheap tea."

"That's because you've never tasted good tea." Elenor watched as Erik walked through the adjoining door into the kitchen. She peered her head around the entrance and watched as he placed the package inside his fridge. Curiouser and curiouser.

“So you’re a super hero?”

“What?” Erik stuck his head round the doorway. He looked confused.

“Alyson says you’ve got super powers and you’re a member of a super group called the Furies that, personally, I’ve never heard of.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right. I’m a super hero.” He disappeared back into the kitchen. "So, did you want some tea?"

"I'll pass. Look, I'll tell you what, I'll take you to a café and I'll treat you to a cup of tea. I know a good place in Camden." If Erik was a super hero, then she was the Queen Mum.

"Outside?" Erik screwed up his face. "I've got a problem with going outside. I'm afraid of the dark."

"It's not dark outside…"

"It will be soon." Erik sunk back into his sofa. "I don't like going out. I suffer from agoraphobia. That's why Alyson sends me what I need." He stared forlornly at the TV.

"Okay, fine." Elenor got to her feet. "I was just trying to be friendly. Maybe another time then." She let herself out. Down on the street the young children were sitting on the bonnet of a car, smoking cigarettes and sharing a pornographic magazine.

The Offices of ORBITAL in Whitehall

Simon Bretnor and Peter Gabriel, ORBITAL's most resourceful secret agents, were burning the candle at both ends, working night and day to track down the brutal, anarchist, killer, Elenor Haines.

"Put me down for a case," said Peter as he doodled on a crossword puzzle. The lads were stretched out on their executive swivel chairs (black leather finish) with their feet on their desks. Their desks were at right angles to each other, allowing both men a good view of the bay windows and veranda that overlooked the Thames.

"Right. This one sounds promising too: 1995 Wolf Blass Cabernet Sauvignon, Gold medal winner in Zurich, complex black current flavour with a rich chocolate palette and hint of autumnal wood shavings."

"Two cases."

Bretnor ticked the corresponding box on the Oddbins mail order wine form as the door to the office swung open. It was unusual for the lads to receive visitors in the afternoon. Most agents enjoyed a leisurely lunch between the hours of 12 and 3, after which a nap was usually in order to fully digest the meal and complimentary wine. Bretnor frowned as Neko walked into the office. She nodded at the men and walked across the burgundy carpet towards a secretarial desk where she dumped an armful of folders and sat down. Neko was 5’6” tall, with a shaggy crop of peroxide bleached blonde hair (with black roots showing through in the parting). She wore a pleated white tennis skirt, fishnet tights, a black sleeveless t-shirt with the words ‘51st State of America’ emblazoned on it, a tatty black leather biker jacket, Doc Martin boots, tightly laced and a pair of rayban dark glasses to hide her permanently bloodshot eyes. Since having been seconded to ORBITAL, Neko had served in three different Amber teams. To date all of her luckless partners had ended up either dead or seriously injured. Consequently no one within ORBITAL relished working with her.

Gabriel lowered his cross word puzzle and frowned. "Yes? Can we help you?" He removed his feet from his desk.

"Agent Neko reporting for duty." She dropped a colourful shoulder satchel bag on the floor.

Bretnor chuckled pleasantly enough. "I think you've got the wrong office. This is Amber Nine."

"That's right." Neko held out a slip of paper bearing the official seal of Mr Price, head of ORBITAL. "I'm to report to Amber Nine. I've been assigned to your team."

Bretnor and Gabriel looked at each other.

Mr Price's Office in Whitehall

"Hello Sir!" Bretnor peeked his head around the heavy wooden door.

"Got a minute, Sir?" asked Gabriel as he weaselled his way in past his partner.

Old Man Price had his feet up on his desk, whisky in hand, and was gazing out through his window at the river Thames. Two trays sat on his desk - one marked 'In' and one marked 'Out'. Both were conspicuously empty. A large bag of golf clubs leaned against the antique desk.

"Ah, boys, care for a whisky?" Mr Price beamed at the sight of his best agents.

"Very kind of you, Sir."

"Don't mind if I do, Sir."

"Laphroaig be all right, Sir?"

"Fine choice, boys, fine choice. Never too early in the day for a Laphroaig, eh?" Price winked as he uncorked the stopper on his decanter.

"Sight problem Sir." Bretnor eased himself into one of the leather armchairs and seized the tumbler of whisky from his boss’s hand. "Neko seems to think she's been assigned to AMBER 9."

"She refuses to leave Sir," added Gabriel as he snatched his own glass.

"And she smells of patchouli oil, Sir!"

"Just read your last report boys. Felt you were understaffed. Needed to reassign agent Neko after the brutal death and maiming of her last set of partners and felt you could use the additional manpower. Noticed your request specifically asked for a female agent with good legs for…" Price put on his glasses and scrutinised the report, “…’covert operational reasons too complex to go into in full detail’…” He returned the report to his desk.

"But Sir…"

Price leaned over his desk, hands clenched firmly together. "Are either of you golfing men?"

"We dabble, Sir. Peter and I have been known to putt a few holes."

“Rugby is our first love though, Sir,” said Gabriel. “You can’t beat a good, tight scrum!”

Price nodded, perhaps dreaming of his own Rugby days at Oxford. "I'm off to St Andrews this weekend. Playing a few chaps from the Admiralty. One hundred pounds a hole, and twice that again for the winner." He seemed pleased with the idea. “But on to business boys. I’m glad you popped in.” Mr Price leaned forward on his desk. “I had Blenkinsopp from the Records department in here earlier. Seems he’s trying to show some initiative...”

Bretnor sniffed. He didn’t approve of clerks in Records showing initiative. That was the prerogative of top secret agents like Peter and himself.

“Seems he looked up the names of and spoke to the Police officers who failed to apprehend our anarchist terrorist.”

“But Sir, the Tabula Rasa already did that. Their findings were included in our comprehensive briefing files.”

“Yes, well, what I’m about to say may seem a little curious then.” Price leaned back in his chair. “It seems the official Tabula Rasa report neglected to mention that this Elenor Anna Haines managed to destroy two police vehicles and injure a number of constables with what appears to be a sonic weapon of sorts.”

“A sonic weapon?”

“Yes, well not so much a weapon, as just a sonic blast. Does this sound familiar, boys? An attractive young woman with a sonic blast?”

“Well, yes…” Bretnor glanced at his partner who had suddenly woken up.

“Sounds like a description of Argent to me, Sir!” Gabriel scratched his chin. “London’s favourite super hero, according to a poll conducted in the London Illustrated Times, Sir.”

“I read the Telegraph myself. The Times is too left wing and radical for my tastes. Blenkinsopp ran a photo match between Elenor Anna Haines and Argent. The computer in the ‘Eye’ reckons there is a 98.3% match based on available records. It seems likely that Elenor Anna Haines and Argent are one and the same person.”

“But Sir, with all due respect, if a snivelling little toe rag like Blenkinsopp can deduce that, then surely the Tabula Rasa could as well.”

“Yes, precisely, boys...” Price leaned back and looked smug. “Precisely. The question is, why didn’t they tell us? And what else haven’t they told us?”

“We’re on it, Sir! Leave it to us, Sir!”

“Which is why I’ve assigned you Neko as additional manpower. Good luck, boys. We need results. That despicable American, Wardog, is breathing down my neck for an arrest. I’m relying on you both.”

“Good luck with the golf, Sir. Give our regards to the Admirals, Sir.” Bretnor and Gabriel exited the office, but not before topping up their glasses with more twenty year old Laphroaig.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Peter.

“I’m thinking we may actually have to do some fucking work. And I’m thinking we’ve still got that liability, Neko, attached to our department. Did you see the state of Kilroy at the briefing? He’s on an iron lung!”

Gabriel nodded. “Tasty looking nurse though. I do like the fact they’ve brought back the formal starched crinoline uniforms. Call me suspicious, but I’m thinking it could look very awkward for the Tabula Rasa if it was known that a lone superhero killed a popular minister who was very outspoken against our superhero masters. Even if that superhero wasn’t actually a member of the Tabula Rasa, it would still look like a very suspicious killing, don’t you think? No wonder it isn’t public knowledge.”

“Hang on…” Bretnor skidded to a halt. “Argent… we got her to work with us on the Brood case, remember?”

“Shit… so we did…”

“Fiddled our expenses and everything. Peter – if the Tabula Rasa found that out they could haul us in for questioning…”

Elenor’s Squat in Camden

There was a girl in the kitchen when Elenor returned to the commune where she was living. Since dumping her bag in the attic room, Elenor had been swept along by events and only now did she have the chance to settle into her temporary accommodation. The kitchen was surprisingly clean for a filthy hippie hole, certainly tidier than she'd been used to at University. The kitchen table was piled with food - fresh vegetables of every shape and size and several loaves of granary bread. Elenor picked up one of the loaves and sniffed it. It was still warm to the touch and smelt freshly baked. A cardboard box contained six bottles of what looked suspiciously like home brew wine.

The girl stood by the sink. She was younger than Elenor, possibly 17 or 18, dressed in a long black skirt, a blue smock like top, sandals, and hair braids. She was peeling a big pot of potatoes by the sink.

"We share everything, right?" asked Elenor as she stood in the doorway.

"Yes, that's right." The girl brushed her hair back nervously, unsure of herself in front of this well spoken and confident stranger.

"Great." Elenor helped herself to one of the wine bottles. She unscrewed the cap and poured herself a glass. While it certainly wasn't going to win any Gold Medals for style it was surprisingly drinkable.

"We… we don't normally drink the wine quite so early in the day." The girl held her hands together as she spoke.

"It's lunch time." Elenor picked up an apple and bit into it. "I see you're not short of food in this house." She eyed the big pots of dry pasta, rice and other assorted non-meat products.

"That's the benefit of sharing what we have and not squandering our income on personal vanities. By focussing our energies in a collective manner instead of pandering to the selfish…"

"Right." Elenor gazed around the kitchen. She began to open cupboards at random. There was something not quite right about the awe struck way the girl was looking at her.

“Are you… looking for something?”

"Nope." Elenor raised her head and finished the apple. "Just curious." She smiled. "I'm Elenor by the way."

"Cathy. I'm Cathy."

"Want some wine, Cathy?"

The girl shook her head and pointed at the potatoes. "I want to get these ready for tonight. It’s my turn on the potato peeling rota. Will you be eating with us?"

"That depends. What's on the menu?"

"A hot vegetable winter casserole, and sticky toffee pudding."

"I think I can manage to sit in then." Elenor sat down on one of the only two kitchen chairs.

"I like your clothes. They're very nice."

"Thanks." Elenor cut some big chunks of bread from the tastiest looking loaf and smothered it in peanut butter.

"You've got really nice hair too." Cathy's hair in comparison was lank. She was quite pretty in an indie kind of way, but her hair suffered from just being left to grow unattended.

"Thanks." Elenor stuffed her mouth with fresh bread while it was still warm and washed it down with another two glasses of wine.

"I suppose you must have a lot of questions?"

"A few. Are there any good clubs around here?" Now that Elenor had escaped from the tracking device, and now that she had been fed and was drinking wine she felt a whole lot better about her situation.

"I meant… I meant about the house. About us… about your new friends."

"Not really, no." Elenor smiled a bright smile.

"Do you know many people in Camden?"

"No. I'm new here." Elenor poured some more wine. This wasn't too bad really. True, it was slumming it by her own standards, but she was tough, she could cope with this as a temporary life style.

"I… I could be your friend if you like. I mean, I know how lonely it can be…"

"What?" Elenor looked up.

"If you want, we can be friends. We can hang out a little. I can show you…"

Elenor had taken up residence on her bed upstairs in her attic room, with a tatty paperback she'd bought in a Charity shop, and a big mug of coffee. The noise of the street below filtered through her thin walls and window. She hadn’t read more than five pages when the door opened with a creak and Cathy peered inside.

"Hello… I hope you don't mind, but I thought you might like some cake?" She stood on the very threshold of Elenor's room, almost afraid to cross in without being invited. She held a plate with a generous slice of freshly baked sponge cake with a scoop of ice cream. "I made it myself."

Elenor sighed and put her book down. "Come in."

Cathy lowered her head so as not to hit herself on a low hanging beam. She sat down on the threadbare carpet and handed the plate to Elenor.

"It's nice to have a new face in the house."

"Right. Well, this may only be temporary. I'm not considering commune lifestyles as a permanent way of living." Elenor was feeling uncomfortable now. This girl was staring at her in a way that wasn't healthy. What was wrong with her? “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

"Thank you… thank you so much… I owe you everything." Cathy suddenly rose to her feet and hugged a surprised Elenor. She wrapped her skinny arms tightly around her.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" This wasn't natural.

"You don't remember me do you? But I'll never forget you. Oh God, you were magnificent. Thank you." She was almost crying now as she hugged Elenor and refused to let go.

"I haven't done anything. Look, you're getting hysterical! Get off!"

"The Arcadium. I was in the Arcadium. You rescued me from the Arcadium. I owe you my life!"

Elenor stared now, speechless for once in her life.

Cathy had insisted on buying Elenor a drink in the Wheatsheaf pub down the road. A crumpled five pound note was handed over in return for a half pint of cider and a tall gin n' tonic. The barman gave some coins back in change.

"Basically, I ran away." The girls sat down at a table next to the window. The pub was half full and there were plenty of seats to choose from. "After you were bundled away by the Tabula Rasa the rest of us were taken to a military base in Hampshire. We were subjected to a number of tests and asked some routine questions. They took three people away - one of them was the young girl you'd been looking after. We were cleaned up, given some fresh clothes and told that we were going to Scotland."

"Why Scotland?"

"They have a special base up there on the North coast. I think it may be on an island because a helicopter was mentioned. I didn't like the sound of it. I grew very nervous when I heard one of the soldiers refer to drugging us. In the end they loaded us on board a military truck, but while the truck was being fuelled outside Birmingham, I jumped out of the back, pushed straight past two surprised soldiers and ran for my life. There were people at the garage and the soldiers weren't confident enough to open fire in public like that. I ran until I couldn't hear the boots any more. And then I came to London."

Elenor sipped her G n' T. "You probably did the right thing. I was tortured."

"Oh God. That’s horrible. After you helped us and all…” Cathy nervously gripped her hands together again. “You're… you're some sort of super hero, aren't you?"

Elenor nodded.

"This has been difficult for me. To adjust I mean." Cathy looked down at the table. "To me this is the future."

"The future?"

"You must know that all the people in the Arcadium - we all came from different times."

"Yes… so I gather."

"I'm from the twentieth century. I was sucked into that hell in 1972. And now I'm here and everything is different, and I've been very scared. Everyone I ever knew is dead and buried. People talk about things I've never lived through. And I still have nightmares of that place…"

"1972… super heroes must have been very different then."

"They were. They were all good people. The super heroes in your world frighten me."

"Yep." Elenor sipped her G n' T. “They frighten me too.”

"Are you going to rescue the others?"

"No. Sorry."

"Oh." Cathy drank some of her cider. "Why not?"

"To be honest, I'm not very good at any of this. I don't think I would know how to. Plus, I don't know where they are."

"You got us out of the Arcadium. I don't think anything is beyond you. You were magnificent."

Elenor laughed. "People seem to have an exaggerated opinion of me. I'm really no different than you. I just do what I think is best. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't.”

“That’s not true. I couldn’t have done what you did. You’re very special, Elenor…” Cathy made to move towards Elenor but Elenor quickly held up her hand.

“Wait! No hugging! We’re not at home to Mr Hug today!”

“Oh… I’m sorry…” Cathy pulled back.

Alyson’s Flat

It was late at night and Elenor had been forced out of her bed by the occupant of the attic room next to hers. For five hours now he had been playing the same song over and over again. ‘Slip inside this house’, it was called and despite some serious pounding on both the door and adjoining wall, the anonymous little bastard wouldn’t switch it off. Come morning Elenor was going to kill him brutally with a sharpened butter knife, but in the meantime she had to get some sleep. The sofa in the living room was out of bounds because her house mates were still in there drinking home made gooseberry wine and talking about washing up rotas. Elenor had studiously ignored the five times her name had appeared on various house rotas so far, so she was keen to maintain a low profile at any such discussions. That only left one option – a fifteen minute walk to Alyson’s flat and perhaps share her bed again. The front door to the building didn't have a lock on it. Like many of the locks on communal buildings it had been broken by a crow bar months ago. Elenor walked through into the dark hallway. There was no point in fumbling around for a light switch - it hadn't worked the last time she'd been here so it wasn't likely to work now. Navigating by touch she found the main stairs and walked carefully up to the first floor. The stairs were old and rotten. Each step creaked under Elenor's slight weight. It was quieter here - no loud parties or hippie bums playing ‘Slip inside this house’ by the 13th Floor Elevators until five in the morning. Alyson would probably be pissed off at being woken up now but Elenor didn't care. She wanted to get some sleep and if that meant waking someone up, well…

Elenor was surprised to see light spilling out under the door to Alyson's flat. She rapped her knuckles sharply on the wood and waited. A latch was slid back on the other side and the curious face of Alyson peered out. She was wide awake and looking far more healthy than she did in the morning. Her cheeks were flushed with vitality and her hair looked glossy and as if it had just been washed.

"Ellie, this is a surprise."

Elenor could see people in the room behind her friend. They were sitting in the main room, smoking and drinking Jack Daniels. Some music was playing on a CD machine but it was quiet.

"So this is the superhero you've been telling me about?" One of the men rose and walked towards the girls. He was tall, slim, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore casual crumpled clothes that hung well on his taut body. "I'm Russell. I gave Alyson the power to make a difference." His arm snaked round Alyson's hips and he drew her pliant body against his. She twisted in his grip and kissed him fiercely on the lips. Russell prolonged the kiss in front of Elenor, drawing it out for her benefit, before breaking apart and pushing her away again.

Alyson stroked his chest and turned back to faced her friend.

"Come in. I want you to meet everyone."

"Hello Elenor. I'm Anya." A woman with short black hair, dressed in tight black leather trousers and a simple white t-shirt with a Scottish flag design on it, took Elenor's hand and drew her suddenly into the room. Although the grip was gentle enough, Elenor nearly stumbled as the arm that pulled her possessed the strength of an industrial steam piston. Anya suddenly moved quickly without warning and kissed Elenor full on the lips. She smeared her lipstick against Elenor's mouth and then drew away. "Don't worry - I'm not gay." Anya laughed. "Alyson tells me you're a bit funny about stuff like that. Pleased to meet you."

"And I'm Reece." A broad squat man with a dark beard and close cropped hair waved from where he sat on one of Alyson's bean bags. "We're the Furies. Well, a few of them."

"You're all superheroes?"

Anya laughed and turned to walk into the kitchen. Russell shot her a dark look but then smiled and turned his gaze back to Elenor. "Yeah, we're super heroes." There was the sound of suppressed giggling from inside the kitchen. "Anya, manners!" Russell seemed a little annoyed.

"Is there some sort of joke I'm not in on?" Elenor dropped her camel skin shoulder bag onto the floor.

"No joke. Anya smoked some dope earlier. She's feeling a bit frisky." Russell threw a can of lager at Elenor. He threw it slowly but if Elenor hadn't caught it, it would have taken a chunk out of the plaster in the wall. "Are you trying to break my hand?" Elenor had almost stumbled with the impact of the catch.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting to compensate for my strength." He reached for Alyson's hand, squeezed it tightly and pulled her next to him. Alyson seemed to like the attention.

"We're doing a lot of good, Elenor. You should consider joining us."

"I'm not really a group kind of girl."

"Team work, Elenor, can achieve a lot more than any number of individuals ever can."

"Are you some kind of anarchists?" asked Elenor as she sat down.

Russell laughed. "No. What makes you think we were?"

"Well, this is Camden and everyone seems to be so counter culture. Are you communists?"

"No. We're more like a family unit." The others smiled at that. "Alyson - we’re not political, are we?"

"No." Alyson took Elenor's hand. "This is all just so cool, Elenor. Russell and the others have opened my eyes to a whole new world. I never realised my potential until they showed me how I could change my life."

"Is this a religious cult?"

Alyson squeezed Elenor's hand. "Of course not. Don't be silly, Ellie. We're super heroes, just like you."

Anya stifled a smile.

"So why haven't I heard of any of you?"

"We keep a low profile, Elenor. We don't seek publicity."

“Oh.” Elenor followed Anya into the kitchen. With a bit of luck Alyson would have some orange juice in the fridge.

"Come here a moment," said Anya as she leaned against the work top inside the kitchen. She took hold of Elenor's left hand by the wrist. "Try and break free." She smiled pleasantly. Elenor pulled her arm back as hard as she could, but it remained where it was, held in a vice like grip. "Try harder." Elenor pulled again, but Anya's hand wouldn't let go. "Is that the full extent of your strength? What would you do if you really had to break free?”

"You don't want to know. I'd hurt you." Elenor could hear the others chatting in the living room next door.

"Try."

"I think you'd better let go. I don't want to hurt you." Elenor tried to smile back.

"Try. I won't hit you back."

Elenor stabbed quickly at Anya's throat but quick as a flash Anya released Elenor's left wrist and caught her right wrist in mid air. Moving with super speed she twisted Elenor's arm and held it tightly and painfully against her back. Elenor winced, knowing that Anya had paused just before spraining the arm. Anya leaned close now behind Elenor, her mouth close to Elenor's neck. "How would you like to be stronger? Faster? Harder? How would you like real super powers? How would you like to be more than human?"

"You're hurting my arm."

Anya kissed Elenor on the back of her neck and traced the tip of her tongue down it. "Relax, I already told you I'm not gay."

"Let go of me...” Elenor's voice was firm and hard.

"Russell can gift you with power. Like he did with your friend. Be a real super hero. Join us."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why? Don't you want to be strong?" Anya twisted the arm just a little more. A sharp stabbing pain shot through Elenor's shoulder and elbow. "Don't you want to be free to do what you want?"

"I don't… trust you..." maybe that wasn't the wisest thing to say, but Elenor wasn't going to back down.

"You should trust us, Elenor, because we're the future."

"Not my future."

"Perhaps not." Anya released Elenor's arm. "But the world is getting harder, Elenor. We all have to adapt if we're going to survive. What are you going to do when the hard rain begins to fall?"

"Buy myself an umbrella." Elenor left the kitchen and returned to the living room. There she saw Alyson curled up on Russell's lap like a large cat. Russell winked at Elenor as he stroked Alyson's hair.

"How did you get super powers, Alyson?"

Russell smiled and answered for her. "Unfortunately, like the Matrix, we can never tell you how - you can only be shown. The question is, will you take the red pill or the blue pill?"

"I don't take pills." Elenor stood her ground, aware that everyone was staring at her.

“Then you’ll never see what the white rabbit has in his sack for you.”

"This isn't a joke." Elenor looked at Alyson, curled up around Russell. "If you've hurt Alyson, in any way, I'll kill you." She regarded everyone in the room. "I'll kill you all. That's a promise."

The silence was interrupted by a rich peal of laughter from Anya who stood now in the doorway from the kitchen.

"Anya, that's enough," said Russell. "Elenor, you should trust us. We're not thugs. We're artists and poets and renaissance men. We're the brave new world and you're either part of it or you're left out in the cold, begging for small change."

Anya stalked around the room like a panther and rested herself against the door that led out to the landing. "We saw you begging a few days ago Elenor. You don't have to do that. We can help. We can get you anything you need."

"Anything, Elenor."

"Is that what you said to the other thirty eight super heroes in your group?"

"Forty two."

"What?"

"It's forty two now. Would you like to be forty three?"

"Are you building an army?”

"Not an army. A brotherhood."

Anya suddenly draped her arms around Elenor's waist from behind and rested her chin on her shoulder. "And a sisterhood. I used to be quiet and shy. Look at the confidence I have now."

"She's right," said Russell. "You would never have recognised Anya before I met her."

"I don't need anything." Elenor lifted Anya's hands from her waist. "I'll see you later, Alyson. Good night."

She closed the door on the way out.

"Well," said Russell after a while. "I don't know about anyone else, but I like her…"

Anya grinned.

Alyson’s Flat – One week later

The days passed by into mostly sleepless nights. Every night the occupant of the other attic room would lock himself inside and play ‘Slip inside this house’ by the 13th Floor Elevators over and over again courtesy of the repeat button on his CD player. Elenor now knew the exact length of the track – 7 minutes and 48 seconds and could have recited the lyrics from memory if they had all been audible. Bleary eyed and pissed off, she had rounded on Michael, the non-leader of the house, after the third night.

“Tell him to stop playing that song or I’m going to take a sledge hammer to his door!”

Michael explained to Elenor that the man in room two was meditating. “He’s a visionary – he’s a seer – he’s like a psychedelic crab scuttling across the sandy beached shores of our imaginations – he’s within us all, and yet he occupies his own sense of time and space, where artificial constructs such as language and emotions seem meaningless - he’s using the song with its elaborate hypnotic tones and looping rhythms to enter into a trance state. It’s a social experiment fully approved of by the house council. Broadly speaking it’s a project that defies categorisation – is it performance art? Is it new age? Is it opening the doors of perception? Is it…”

Elenor seized Michael by the scruff of his woolly jumper and brought his face up against her nose. “Just… tell him… to stop… playing… that song…”

Michael swallowed hard as he felt his toes being lifted off the ground. “May I remind you Elenor, that you’ve been in this house now for five days and you have yet to contribute in any way, whatsoever. Many of your friends here have complained that you fail to read the chore rotas and…”

“Elenor says… song… stops… playing… or Elenor… buys an axe…”

“I see…”

But ‘Slip inside this house’ didn’t stop playing. Elenor bought some earplugs but found she couldn’t sleep with them in because they induced a buzzing sound in her head. Seven days after meeting Russell, Anya and Reece, her will snapped and she turned up at Alyson’s flat again, desperate for a good night’s sleep. Alyson took her inside and once again they slept together in the same bed. Once again Alyson insisted that Elenor kept her top on and Alyson wrapped herself cocoon like in the duvet.

In the morning Elenor stayed for breakfast long enough to hear a sharp knock on the door.

“Bit early for visitors,” said Alyson as she slid the locks back. “People usually come round in the evening. That’s Camden for you.” Alyson froze as she opened the door and saw the person standing in the hallway. Although Elenor didn't know it, this was a figure that Alyson recognised only too well. He was tall, with dark black skin, long braided hair and a pair of frameless 'Lennon' glasses with circular rims. He wore heavy motorcycle boots, thick leather trousers, a black lycra vest and a long army great coat. In one hand he held a small bottle and in the other a high powered automatic pistol. He threw the acid in the bottle at Alyson's face. Her arm came up instinctively in a blur to protect herself, and most of the acid struck the sleeve of her sweater and her hand instead. Alyson's flesh sizzled as it came into contact with the corrosive substance. Alyson screamed and threw herself backwards into the room as the man very calmly raised his gun hand and fired a series of three snap shots. The first bullet hit the window; the second bullet punctured the wall close to Elenor; but the third hit Alyson in the shoulder. She screamed even louder this time - far louder than when she'd been shot in the alleyway. For some reason her invulnerability wasn't protecting her quite so much against this gun.

The man in the great coat strode swiftly into the room, snapping too more shots offhand at Alyson as she backwards somersaulted across the room. One of the shots tore a chunk out of her leg.

Elenor was up and moving by now. The assailant switched targets and snapped off three rounds at her head but missed with each one. Elenor dived straight through the adjoining door, taking it clean off the latch, and dislocating her shoulder in the process. She hit the floor of the bedroom with a painful thump as two more bullets tore chunks of plaster from the wall.

Elenor struggled to get up as the man appeared suddenly in the door way. Before Elenor could roll out of the way he splashed a second container of acid over her face and upper body. Elenor screamed instinctively, but nothing happened. Her flesh didn't sizzle and all she felt was the sudden shock of being drenched by cold liquid. This came as an equal surprise to the black man. Elenor took the opportunity as he stared dumbly at her to kick his feet out from under him. He fell backwards, his head narrowly missing the hard floor as he twisted to land on his shoulder instead.

"I'm wet!" screamed Elenor as she staggered to her feet, her hair hanging in wet strands. She ran forward and kicked the pistol from his hand. Alyson was curled up on the floor opposite, her left arm twisted and contorted in pain. Blood was soaking her leg and shoulder. Somehow her regenerative powers weren't sealing the wounds properly. Elenor didn't have time to think about any of this. She crouched down and grabbed the man by his lapels. His eyes snapped open and he sat upright, head butting her directly in the face. Elenor fell back, blinded with pain, as the urban warrior sprang back to his feet. He extended his left arm taut and a small black automatic pistol, its grip and trigger wrapped tight with gaffa tape, sprang from his sleeve into his extended palm. Without a word he levelled the gun at Elenor and pulled the trigger. Six bullets exploded into the wooden floor in a precise curve around her huddled body.

"I'm not after you," he said with a thick Jamaican accent. "Don't get in my way, woman." He turned slowly back to face Alyson. By now she was up and limping, despite her horrible injuries. The wounds were slowly regenerating. She screamed as the Jamaican man calmly reloaded. "Elenor!" she screamed as she limped backwards towards the kitchen. "Elenor!"

"In the name of the Father…" He fired the black automatic and shot out Alyson's other leg. She fell, howling, but still scrabbling backwards, "In the name of the Son…" A second bullet punctured her gut. "And the holy…"

"Hey, fuck wit!" Elenor sprang up beside him. "Don’t forget in the name of the daughter!" She punched him in the side of his face with every ounce of strength she possessed, snapping the punch hard using all the power and leverage from her waist. There was a crack of his jaw and a tooth was spat out as the Jamaican hit the floor, firing wild. Over in the doorway by the kitchen, a dark pool of blood was spreading around Alyson's twisting form. Somehow she was still alive and hadn't gone into shock, but she was screaming horribly.

Elenor couldn't risk diverting her attention. The man fired wildly now, disorientated by the serious impact of Elenor's fist. Luckily he had no idea what he was even firing at. Elenor stamped hard with her good foot on his gun wrist as the gun clicked on an empty clip. But he was still fast. More by touch than by sight, he reached up and grabbed Elenor's ankle and threw her backwards. Elenor hit her head against a table and lay stunned for a moment. But now there was commotion in the hallway. The gunfire was attracting attention. With his coat flapping around his body, the Jamaican gunman ripped the thick curtains apart and kicked the window in with his right boot. With a swift motion he jumped out and landed in the alleyway below, curled like a cat. Elenor limped to the window and watched the man glide away. Alyson lay in the corner of the room, her clothes soaked in blood.

“Oh my God, Alyson, are you all right?” Elenor rushed to the side of her friend. She was in shock.

“He’s going to kill us…” mumbled Alyson. “He won’t stop… he’ll find me, just like the others…”

“What?” Elenor could see the wounds were slowly healing on Alyson’s body. “Who is he? What does he want?”

“He’ll be back. He’ll be back. I have to move. I have to warn Russell.”

“What’s going on? Alyson – you have to tell me what’s going on!”

“His name’s Joseph Cromwell. He kills superheroes. That’s what he does. He tracks them down and he kills them.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s mad. He’s psychotic. Oh God, he’s killed four of the Furies already. He travels from city to city, country to country and he kills superheroes. He’s going to kill me!”

“Alyson, listen to me!” Elenor slapped her friend’s face hard. “You have got to tell me what this is all about. Now!”