ORIGINS

Part II: London

By Ed Ainsworth

She sat in complete silence. Her master plan with Druid had gone wrong. Utterly wrong. Britain would no longer be the source of their power, she would no longer have a controlling influence in the way it worked. Brian had been too clever for them. Druid had been defeated and turned into what was, for all intents and purposes, the worst punishment they could muster.*

* See Excalibur #6.

Druid was now a wooden henge, forced to replace the Stone Henge that somehow gained sentience and walked off into the sunset. If she hadn’t seen it herself, she would have labelled it ridiculous. However, it wasn’t, it was quite true. She sat in her holding cell at the bottom of the Roma Initiative headquarters, a bunker held deep under the surface of London Town, where the Shadow Captains met.

She lay back on her poorly constructed bunk and thought of what her father would think of her now. She’d left the family profession behind, murdering monsters, in a little fit of rebellion. She’d abandoned everything her father had set out for her and given into some stupid little desire to go out and be brilliant. Something that she was clearly not.

Elsa was a Bloodstone. An entity designed for the sole purpose of murder, maiming and being impeccably dressed. Now she could confirm that she wasn’t brilliant. She wasn’t even medium level great, she was shit. In some people hitting this low might be some sort of transformable moment, where they’d turn their lives around kick their old habits and become someone better and new, but Elsa knew what she should do.

She should look back down her family chain, one place, and look at her Father. He’d been alive for a few hundred thousand years, and murdered monsters all across the world. She wondered if he was some kind of serial killer in disguise, but then realised he was a caveman with a red gem melted into his sternum. He wasn’t capable of clever little nuances of humanity such as serial killing. He existed to protect himself, his world and his family.

“Elsa,” came a voice from the door to her small cell. It was protected with one of Morganna’s very basic seals of deflection. A mystical ward that was painted over the doorframe, keyed to Bloodstone’s bio-aura. She was unable to leave but others were able to come and go as they pleased.

“Brian,” she said, looking up from her hands, splayed out before her. He offered a cheeky smile, as he leaned his elbows against the doorframe, looking straight into her eyes. As much as it pained her, she cared about Brian. When she met him, he was broken. Meggan had died, and he was lost.

She rebuilt him with sex and cynicism, telling him and forcing him to be her little yes man, to follow her around and just be there for when she needed physicality. He was little more than her doorstop, until he came into contact with the other Shadow Captains.

Brian had grown, almost instantly in fact. Great torrents of himself had rushed back into his body, as he remembered what it was to be something other than a tool for observed masturbation. He’d become a new, better and stronger person. He’d managed to conquer his drinking addiction, again. Something that she never thought he’d do, simply because he never went near anything alcoholic. When she drank huge amounts of alcohol to get over the stupid banality of her life, Brian would sit in another room and watch the Discovery Channel for an hour before she eventually forced herself to come onto him to make her life feel better for a moment.

“How’s this working out for you?” he asked, walking through the barrier spell and into her cell. She offered a weak smile and a roll of the shoulders.

“Do you like what I’ve done with the place?” she asked him, getting to her feet and locking her eyes onto his. Normally he’d look away, but this time, he stayed locked. He was better than ever, and Elsa found him more attractive at this minute than she had in all those months they were actually together.

“Heard anything from Druid?” he asked, a slight itch of annoyance to his voice. Elsa shook her head and offered a short laugh.

“Of course not, that idiot is standing in for Stone Henge, isn’t he?” She looked away, and then down Brian’s body. He seemed slightly bulkier than normal. His clothes didn’t seem to fit as well as they used to.

“Funny. I guess that’s what happens when you try to take over England with corrupt idiot magic?” Brian asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I would imagine the Salisbury tourist board are shitting themselves right now,” Elsa said, sitting back down on her bunk.

A few moments of silence continued before Brian said something again. He crouched down next to her and cupped her chin. Something that was more of a forceful movement than an act of affection.

“Why did you do it, Elsa? I thought you were supposed to be a good guy.”

“I am a good guy, Brian. Or whatever stupid definition you want to work with. England has gone mad with political correctness and idiotic ideas that fail to meet my high standards of having actual intelligence. These people wouldn’t know knowledge if it came up and shat in their brains.” She balled her fists and pushed him off her.

“They get free education and what do we get? Twenty five thousand people unemployed because they can’t bloody spell, and what’s the outcome of that? Blamin’ the fucking immigrants for taking work. English is their second language and they can spell better than these pikey idiots, Brian.” Elsa got to her feet and threw a fist into the already cracked wall. It buckled a little before popping back into place like soft dough.

“I think you’re getting off topic here, Elsa. This has nothing to do with the poorer elements of England. This isn’t some social adventure you embarked on, you wanted control. Why?”

“Because it’s only with control that you can start to fix things, Brian. England is BROKEN. We’re at war with ourselves, and we’re sending our soldiers to fight someone else in another country with weapons we’ve already sold them because they have oil and stuff that we want. I don’t want that for England,” Elsa said, her expression softening a little.

“Neither do I, but it’s not my place to try and control the entire country, even if I am Captain of it,” he said, getting to his feet to meet her expression.

“I just wanted to make it better. I don’t know if Druid wanted that, but that’s what he made it seem like to me, Brian. I just want to help.”

Brian laughed to himself, and held his stomach for a bit longer, continuing the movement of laughter as he mocked Elsa.

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so, let’s just lower this forcefield and get you right out,” he said, gesturing towards the door. Elsa scowled at him, and pushed him in the chest.

“I’m not playing here Brian, I just wanted to help.”

“Help like when you crushed my self-esteem at my lowest point, and used me as a human plunger, Elsa?” Brian asked, clearly angry at his treatment by her. She shook her head.

“You made it easy Brian, wandering around like a hurt kitten. Oh, my wife’s dead, how can I go on living?” She flailed her arms around her head as she spoke, mocking Brian, “I tell you how you go on living, the same way everyone else in the whole fucking world goes on when they lose someone!” she yelled, thrusting her fist into his jaw, knocking him against the wall. He touched his face in surprise.

“You’re not the only one who ever lost anything, Brian, you self-involved little idiot. We all have. Everyone on the planet has lost someone or something and they’re making their way through life as though it isn’t the end of the whole world, because they’re not stupid enough to think they’re the centre of the universe… or a country,” she spat as he pulled himself up, and caught her second blow in his palm.

“You’re incredibly self-involved, Elsa,” Brian said, releasing her hand as it dropped to her side. “Using the ‘everyone else’ card instead of accepting the fact that you’re using it about yourself. You are as involved with yourself as I am with myself. That’s just the people we are. Centred.”

He walked behind her and sat down on her bed gently, patting the space next to him.

“The sooner we realise that, the sooner we can actually go ahead and make a better go of things. Make better people from ourselves.” She sat down next to him as he spoke and sighed, settling her hands into her lap.

“Maybe that isn’t what everyone is supposed to do, Brian?” Elsa said, looking up at him. He offered her an understanding smile and took her hand gently.

“I didn’t come here to argue or even fight with you, Elsa. I came here because I believe in second chances.” He gave her hand a squeeze, and let it drop into her lap.

“The Captain Britain Corps are broken. They’re gone. Wherever they are, wherever Merlyn and the remains of Otherworld, it doesn’t matter. What matters right now is that England is undefended from whatever hell spilled over from Otherworld’s destruction,” Brian said, getting up and taking off his shirt to reveal the Union Jack costume underneath. He walked back over to the door and reached through.

“What are you saying here, Brian? You want me to come and be a part of this Otherworld mop up? Like day release for naughty girls?” she asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

“No, Elsa,” he said, throwing her the bag and pulling the rest of his body through the doorway, “I want you to join.”

“Join?” she said, catching the bag and setting it on the bed before looking inside of it.

“I want to you to join the Captain England Corps,” he said, with a smile on his face. Elsa stared at him blankly before shaking her head.

“You’re a deeply unoriginal idiot, Brian,” hhe said, with a slight smirk. “The Captain England Corps?”

He offered her a shy smile and rubbed the back of his head.

“Alright, hardly the greatest name, but it’s better than Captain Britain Corps. We’re not Britain any more, we’re the Shadow Captains,” he said, trying to defend himself.

Elsa pulled the costume from her bag and eyed it up.

“Holsters?” she asked, pointing to the loops and holes where guns could slide either side of her hips, and a longer loop for something to fit in her back.

“Yeah, we figured you’d want to maintain some sort of… individuality within the C.E.C.,” he answered, helping her lift it out of the bag. At the bottom sat a mask, a red mask. Elsa pulled it out slowly and looked at it in the light.

“You want me to wear a costume and a mask and join your stupidly named team?” she asked, dropping the costume on the bed.

“What happens? You roll me out as a brilliant little rehabilitation project then lock me up in here at night and call me names when you go to your stupid meetings?” Elsa asked, throwing the mask at Brian’s head. He caught it and dropped it back onto the bed.

“No, Elsa. We want you to be Captain London,” he said, matter-of-factly. “So you have all of London to run around and be Captain of. A place to order people around and be in charge. You can make Boris your little bitch if you want too.” He beamed her a smile, as she leaned back, sighing heavily.

“Captain London? Bloody Hell, Brian. You’re an idiot.”

“I know, the other Captains aren’t so hot on it, but I know you.”

He took her hand and pulled her up to her feet, placing the mask in her palm and closing her fingers around it.

“I know there’s something special inside of you, Elsa. I know that you’re capable of great things. You’re powerful and you’re true. You did what you did for England,” he paused for a moment as she let a tiny smile spread over her face. “It was wrong and you did a crap job, but you did it for the right reasons, and that, in my book, counts for something.”

Elsa said nothing, as she slowly slipped on her mask, pushing her ponytail through the hole at the back. Brian smiled and helped her pull her ponytail out so her red hair cascaded down over her shoulders.

“Brian… what happens now?” she asked, looking up at him. Vulnerability spreading over her face, even as it was covered by the red mask. It was something Brian had never seen from her.

“Well, you put on the costume and then I take you out to the other Captains. We try and bring Roma here, and between her and Blessing they’re going to give you a Captainship. Then I’ll trot you out to the media and we’ll insert you into London. That’ll be your place of power,” he said, as Elsa put her hands on his chest.

“I didn’t mean with that, Brian, I meant with us,” she said, her voice shaking a little. She looked up at him, and sighed, looking down at her.

“You hurt me, intentionally, and you hurt England. You tried to take over and you failed, and you’re paying for that, and you will be for a long time,” Brian said, taking her hands in his and pulling them off his chest slightly.

“I don’t know how I feel about that, or about you. For a couple of months I was sure that I hated you. Positive in fact. Nothing like a little hate sex to make you appreciate how far you’ve fallen since you made love to your wife and considered your children,” he said, letting her hands, as well as her expression drop.

“Yet, as I said, I believe in change, Elsa. I believe you can be better than you are. I’ve seen glimpses of something that I could learn to care for again, glimpses of a person I wish I could have known more about rather than this… evil little bitch-spawn you like to push on us.” Brian paced towards the door and stopped.

“I’ll do this for you, Brian,” she said. It seemed to her as though she were making a complete one-eighty on her personality. As though she were giving up the persona she’d worked so hard to create, but in reality she just wanted acceptance and she wanted this torture to be over. She wanted to become a good person again, the sort of person her father would have wanted her to be. She offered Brian a smile and walked over to him, giving him a tight hug around the waist.

“Thank you for this, Brian. I know I treated you with nothing but contempt most of the time, but I think this… this is what I needed for my life to change properly, a short, sharp shock.”

Brian responded to her hug gently, stroking the side of her face, just below her mask, as a comfort.

“Maybe the change will be for the best, Elsa. Change is never bad,” he said, pulling himself away. She grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him into a deep, tight kiss. She held onto him tightly, her fingers digging into the flesh around his spine. He managed to pull away for a moment, putting his fingers against her lips.

“Elsa…”

“This isn’t about love, Brian,” she said, looking into his eyes, maintaining her grip on his body. “This is about lust, and thanks and everything else other than love.”

She stared up at him, and he smiled.

“I don’t think we should, Elsa. It’s not..”

“Ethnical? Right? Brian, we’ve done this a hundred times over. This is what we’re good at. We’re good at this. When we do this, we feel good. I know you feel good, I feel fantastic. This is our calling together,” she said, her voice with a hint of desperation.

“Elsa, you’ve never been desperate before. This is a response to that. You’ve had something genuine hit you in the face for the first time in… god knows how long and your response is trying to fit into your normal life style. So you want to do something carnal, something instinctual.” Elsa bit her lip, and looked up at him, with doe eyes.

“Brian… come on, I can feel that you want this too.” She pulled him closer to her body, even as he resisted her.

“You can feel that I want this. Biology doesn’t always go hand in hand with what my brain is telling me, Elsa. More often than not it wins, but my heart’s never lost a battle. And Elsa…” he leaned in closer to her, his breath on her neck as he moved up to her ear, nipping her lobe gently, “…my heart isn’t in this.”

He pulled away, as Elsa released him, frustrated, dropping onto her bed.

“God, Brian. Why do I do this to myself, and why do you talk like that? Who even talks like that?” she asked, her eyes closed and her hand over the eye-slits in her mask.

“Because change doesn’t happen over night, Elsa. It’s a little bit longer and subtler than that. When the time is right, if we’re in the same situation, maybe what could have happened here will happen. Until then..”

He walked out of the door and stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder. “You’ll always have the memories, right?”

He smiled and offered her a curt laugh before walking down the barren, concrete corridors of the Shadow Bunker.

Elsa sighed, and pulled her mask off.

“Yeah, because they’re going to keep me warm at night, Brian. Don’t do me any favours,” she said, as she stared at the mask before her.

“Captain London, Eh? I don’t think that necessarily fits my personality but….”

A Week Later…

The streets of Soho were covered in dirt. A cool wind whipped through the annexes and alcoves of the city, between the sex shops and coffee houses where people milled around, not making eye contact with each other as they tried to imagine a slightly less apathetic world where everyone wasn’t so full of hate.

A woman in a trench coat turned the corner of an alleyway, walking hurriedly down it, as a small group of men walked down behind her. They jeered quietly to each other, egging on a single member of the group to do something.

She wants it, they all whispered to each other. Look at the way she dresses. She wants it. We saw her in that club, we were sure. She was the one who rubbed herself up against you. Go on, she’s playing hard to get.

Clearly drunk and idiotic, they moved as quietly as possible behind her, knowing that they were leading to a quiet part of town. They’d watch out for each other. They always did. That’s how it worked. That’s why they were friends, brothers almost.

The smaller man, the man who was the source of this peer pressure, moved faster, reaching out for the woman’s coat and pulling on it.

“Hey, darling, remember me? I’ve got something I want to show you,” he said, grabbing at the zipper of his trousers, as his friends stifled their laughs behind him. He was drunk and reciting horrid little one-liners that didn’t even work in movies any more.

“Welcome to the club,” the woman said, putting the end of a shotgun in his mouth and cocking the safety.

“My name is Captain London,” she said, letting the wind take the coat from her sides, revealing an almost entirely black costume, with a single, simple clock motif in the top left hand corner of her costume, just underneath her collar bone. “Would you like me to shoot you in the genitals that clearly dangle from your forehead, or the pathetic excuse for reproductive organs your mother apparently squirted out for you last night?”

The man immediately urinated in fear and passed out a few seconds later. His friends, his brothers in arms, were already running away by the point at which he began to void body fluids.

All Elsa Bloodstone could do was smile, and wipe the saliva off her gun with his sleeves.

“Captain London. Hrm. I could get used to this…”

Next Issue: Which Captain lives on the Emerald Isle…?