A NON-AMERICAN WARWOLF IN LONDON

By Mike Bent

London was always better at night.

While this city of stone that had remained for centuries, there was a subtle vulnerability to it at night. For all of the people that inhabited or visited London, how developed it had become it was still an ancient city ruled by greater unseen forces at work. All those mythical and magical forces out there that have plagued the British Isles throughout time and yet people still believe themselves safe. All of these people laying safely in their beds thinking there was shelter in organizing themselves into this city. If only they knew. But then it was that knowledge of the truth that empowered Black Air, an organization Scarab was proud to be a member of.

Wandering the streets of London at night was not a safe thing to do as who knew what manner of natural or supernatural attacker may come? But then Scarab was prepared. She was in fact here to release a breed of nastiness to the London streets. One that had been here once before.

Gracefully stepping out into the middle of the deserted streets, the tall beautiful Egyptian woman would easily gather attention if there was anyone around to notice her. Hair swept back off of her elegantly decorated face, she appeared as though from ancient times, as if she was a hieroglyph. Save for the sharp black business suit she wore; the signature of her occupation. Her orate golden jewerly clinked, filling the still foggy night air with the sound of metal on metal. Scarab smiled as soon the city would be filled such sounds of metal. And screams.

Reaching into her pocket, Scarab withdrew a small red stone etched with ancient markings. Holding it out before her she closing her eyes she recited the the words that would activate the rune-stone, to open the portal.

“…lotium nordius carnus daelum…”

A spiriling portal of light opened and from it emerged five silver slick figures, unnatural ones. The Warwolves.

As soon as they were emrged, the portal behind them closed and Scarab slipped the artifact back into her pocket. She maintained an air of confidence as the Warwolves began circling her, even as they spoke. “Well, well, luvs. Looks like we’re returned for a spot of fun. Or am I mistaken, toots?”

Scarab smiled her reply, polite. “Correct, Jacko. Black Air knows what you are capable of and what you may wish for. It would seem that we have a mutual enemy, one my employers thought you might like the chance to have another go at.”

All five Warwolves stopped and snarled in unison, “Excalibur.”

But Jacko, the ‘leader’ of the Warwolves, padded forward to sit before Scarab to speak on behalf of his brethern. “Why would your ‘Black Air’ ‘ave cause to help us?”

“Black Air has it’s reasons for everything,” was the only answer they were going to get from Scarab. “Now, one of you will have to come with me. The rest of you; away already. Play. Is that not what you wish to do?”

Why did he always have to get the biggest ones?

Captain Britain, champion of Britain, rolled in the London streets in broad daylight like a common thug, trading blows with the largest and perhaps meanest of the Warwolves, Scraper. Behind him was Tangerine who was attempting to do the best she could. Being a little girl she wasn’t prepared to enter into a physical contest and so she did what she could with psionic abilities. A power that was lost on the Warwolves as they were immune to such things, as she had come to find out. Tangerine had already tried. So, she was playing damage control while Brian wrestled with the monster, urging the ring of spectators that had gathered away home with her mind.

Gaining the upperhand for a moment, Captian Britain drove the head of Scraper down into the street. Hard. He was growing tied of this. While the Warwolf was attempting to pull it’s head out of the road, Brian rose to his feet to stomp on the beast’s head, driving it down once more.

“Split up, he said,” Brian muttered to himself. “They’re all over and we can handle them in pairs, he said. Suppose it made sense at the time, to stop you lot before you cause more damage to more people. Yet while it makes sense I rather fashion the idea of an old style fox hunt. Hunt each of you down one at a time like the…”

Tangerine spotted it before Brian could, and shouted out, “Captain, look out! The Warwol…!!” But the warning came too late. Tangerine privately cursed herself for not having alerted Brian more quickly, such as with her telepathy.

Having slipped out from under Brian’s foot as the hero babbled on, Scraper wasted no time in attacking the Captain. Leaping onto him in the span of an instant, strong front legs went to the hero’s shoulder to push him back and pin Brian to the ground. The Warwolf’s back legs grabbed Brian’s, completely binding the Captain.

{Captain Britain, I’m sorry, I should have…}

“Don’t worry about it, Tangerine. This brute hasn’t bested me yet,” Brian replied verbally, snarling up to his attacker as he tried to look for some way free of this.

“Wouldn’t bet on it, mate, you findin’ a way out of this. Seems you’re the chump that’s about to lose his face. Open up wide, Cap. I’ll have fun wearin’ your skin.”

“Oh, chew on this!” Having no other attack available, Brian used perhaps his most hardened weapon; his head. Headbutting the Warwolf square in the mouth, Scraper recoiled, but not enough to let go. If anything Scraper just dug in with greater force.

“Real gentlemanly of you, guv’ner,” Scraper sneered. “Now, no more playin’ nice. Roll over and play dead time, Cap.” Scraper lashed out and struck again, this time biting down hard on Brian’s shoulder. Feeling a major nerve being pinched there, Brian knew that he was screaming out in pain even if he couldn’t hear it. In fact he couldn’t feel much of anything as things were beginning to go dark.

Brian’s mighty roar of pain was not lost as many of the remaining spectators were stunned to silence with a collective gasp. One lone girl stood out in the crowd, a little girl with shimmering bright orange hair. A girl that shared the crowd’s shock and horror, in more ways that one. Wrapped up in the thoughts and emotions of those around her, she knew she had to do something.

Just as unconsciousness was about to overcome Brian it was suddenly lifted. His mind was freed from all pain and worry, as a mind reached out to his and helped force such thoughts away. There was added confidence over his mind as well, empowering him past the pain.

Surprising Scraper, Captain Britain willed himself free by rising off the ground using his ability of flight that his mind was suddenly reminded him of. Once airborn he spun to reverse the tables on his attacker. Brian drove down atop the Warwolf, flattening it into the pavement with the force of his own body. Gripping the unconscious Scraper by the neck, Brian rose up to his feet as a tentative Tangerine moved forward, to stand nearby chewing on her bottom lip.

“Thank you, Tangerine. Nice save. Now, let’s go check on how the others are doing.”

“Do me.”

“I beg ye pardon Pete Wisdom? I know ye dinnae mean what ye said…”

“Calm down. No need to get your new tights ina’ bunch,” Pete Wisdom muttered to the girl he was assigned to work with, Bridgit Shane. Something about her being a pyrokinetic and he might be able to teach her a few things were the reasons Wagner gave him for his being appointed to watch over her. If only they knew. Putting his lips to the cigarette he was fishing out of his overcoat’s pocket, Pete motioned to the cig. “You’re the walkin’ lighter. Do me.”

“Oh,” Bridgit realized and then gestured with a finger towards the cigarette. A small bright flame danced along her fingertip for a moment before it lept to the smoke, bringing it to life. “Least ye could’ve asked nicely.”

Taking a long drag from the cig, Pete stopped in his tracks to look at the girl and smirked. “Kurt’s bloomin’ idea, not mine. Blame the elf.”

Bridgit Shane eyed the man she was placed with. Out of all of them why was she teamed up with this one? Why not Captain Britain? At least Pete wasn’t that Nightcrawler… thing. She didn’t know what to make of Kurt Wagner yet, though Rahne assured her he was fine. Why couldn’t she be with Rahne and Doug? In fact why was she out here at all? It’s not as if she wished for any of this…

“Eyes front, girlie. We’ve got company.”

Bridgit looked to whatever it was Pete may have been indicating to. Just some little old lady walking towards them with … well, her face. It was out of place, being bunched and wrinkled in ways to make it look like it was a mask pulled into place. Improperly, mind you.

Stopping, Pete Wisdom didn’t bother wasting time to make introductions with the old bitty. His hand was raised and a hotknife arched from his finger, aimed for the heart. Might was well end this quick. What he was trained to do.

“Wisdom, what’re ye doin’?!?”

For an old lady she moved quickly. The hot knife missing it’s mark but did manage to cut across the back of the Warwolf as it ducked to the side. “It’s one of ’em body-snatchers, Shane. Nasty one by the looks of it.”

“Right-o, my good man,” snarled the Warwolf as it shed the remains it’s ‘borrowed’ appearance. “Names’s Ducks, lad and lass. Now the intro’s been done with, let’s ‘ave at it, get both of you done with. Now, don’t make this easy on me, mates. Try and do as my name suggests? Put up a good fight won’t you, make it last a bit? Shame that if you can’t, as I could use the spot o’ fun.” With that Ducks lept forward, aiming for the weaker one first; Bridgit.

Shoving Shane to the side, Pete rolled to the other side, coming up to his knees. Sans cigarette. “Right, now I’m pissed.” Aiming both of his hands at Ducks, Pete wasted little effort in firing off a volley of hot knives again. This time at the creature’s feet. Seemingly missing, the knives bit deep into the London streets, striking that which ran below them.

“Missed, chum,” grinned the Warwolf, turning to concentrate on Wisdom now. Prepared to lunge, Ducks said, “I promise not to.”

“Who said anythin’ about missing you, you unnatural git. If you were from these parts like I am, you’d know just what I was aimin’ for.” No sooner did he finish than the holes that his hot knives had cut into the street erupted with searing heat. Steam. Jetting out and over the now howling and blinded Warwolf, Pete grinned, satisfied with his mundane knowledge of London’s water main placements.

Sitting a slight distance off, Bridgit looked to see where all the noise was coming from. Wisdom did that? Not by striking the foe but what he was standing on. This gave Bridgit an idea. She rose to her feet and concentrated, igniting her powers.

Flames lept from her to the steaming London street, her arms out wide as she was engulfed in her own pyrokinetics. She glowed bright with a living flame of her own will, appearing now to be made of white hot fire. But the fire was willed elsewhere, away from her body to the pavement around Ducks’ feet. Liquidified in an instant the street became a pool of molten rock. Catching the cue, Pete ‘shut off’ the hot knives he was maintaining in the water main, to allow the water to flow reather than super-heating it. This caused the pavement to harden again quickly, about the Warwolf’s feet immobalizing Ducks.

“Let me free! I’ll tear you both limb from limb! Skin you alive!”

Bridgit, calmed down now as the job was done, willed her fire away and was impressed with her own action. Perhaps she could do this after all. But before she could say something to the raving Warwolf, Pete was right there with a responce.

Winking to Bridgit as she did actually do a good job, he mutter, “Oh, simmer down.”

Who ever thought they’d be back to London? Popsie missed the city as she enjoyed it here during their stay last time. It was good to be back, living life rather than being trapped in that swirling mass of a parallel dead-end dimension they were trapped in. The people were friendly here and they tasted just yummy in the tummy.

Like the skin she was wearing now, of some annoying twit woman named Maria, but her lifeforce tasted sugary sweet going down. Maria had three little kiddies that she would never see again as Popsie never intended to go home to them. Well, perhaps if she wanted a light snack. But the skins of children was such a small space to fit into. This body was a nice fit and an attractive one. And Popsie liked to look good.

But she was worried. Worried about Bowser. He had gone with that Scarab woman on the first night they were returned, and it had almost been a week since anyone had seen a trace of him.

Perhaps Excalibur had captured him? This was likely what had happened since now those freaks were attempting to hunt them down, again. Take away their spot of fun. Attempting to avoid being caught off guard this time Jacko had told them to separate, split up and check in at regular times. It made sense but Popsie was lonely without her brethern. Now she wandered the streets of London, keeping her look out for…

Why, hello. Looking down a back alley Popsie saw a nice little treat. Scraper was tangling with that furry one, the Nightcrawler. The beastie, Nightcrawler, lept up and over Scraper to avoid a lunge from the front claws and slide down the smooth back to land to safety behind the fellow Warwolf. Howling, Scraper turned and prepared to attack again. Popsie moved forward, thinking to give Scraper a hand with this one.

Kurt lept again, this time up and over his opponent in the dead-end alley ‘Scraper’ had worked him into, clinging to the wall. Kurt smiled down to the ‘Warwolf’ as though he were truly enjoying this. Below him ‘Scraper’ smirked back, snarling out as best it could, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You never know unless you try, ja? Perhaps if you keep this up you may get lucky.” With that Kurt winked and lept from the wall as he noticed a movement of silver behind ‘Scraper’. “It would seem that company has arrived afterall. This is my day after all, isn’t it?” Aiming his hands for the shoulders of Scraper, Kurt vaulted up and into the air towards the newest arrival.

Popsie wasn’t sure why Scraper wasn’t doing more, as the brute was quite vicious whena ll rilled up. But she didn’t care as her prey was coming straight to her. Hand delivered. Unlike the others, she liked them easy and quick. Less mess that way. But as Nightcrawler was about to plant his foot in Popsie’s face, she lept to the air, front claws to shoulders to push Nightcralwer back and to pin him to the ground.

“You look ghastly, beastie, worst than last time” Popsie admited, moving atop Nightcrawler to keep him there. “Instead of takin’ your right sinful lookin’ soul, how about I bite your head clean off? Do us both a favour?”

Seeming to enjoy where he was, Nightcrawler only smiled his reply, “Oh, I don’t think that you’ll have the opportunity to do that. For you see, I have you right where I want you.”

“Looks to me, beastie, that I’m the one that has you right where I want you. You’re not in a position to go anywhere. My jaws are this far away from ending your life.”

“But you see, I could have teleported away if I wanted and yet I remained. To trap you.”

Before Popsie could give a further reply, ‘Scraper’ lunged at her, hitting her hard in the face. Knocked free from Kurt, ‘Scraper’ wasted no time in following through with his attacks. Popsie was too stunned by the fact that one of her own was attacking her to offer much resistance at first. An opportunity ‘Scraper’ wasted no time in exploiting, just as Kurt had told him he’d have to do. With a sharp bite to the base of Popsie’s neck, a nerve was pinched and the Warwolf fell unconscious.

“Good job, Meggan,” smiled Kurt as he lept forward to his shapeshifted companion. He looked to her at his side as she stood up on her hind legs making an awful face as she examined herself in this form.

“I feel like I need to shower for a month. Being one of these things is nasty, Kurt. I’m glad this worked, but… ew!”

“Put him down, ye big meanie!”

What had been a quiet walk along the harbor front between Rahne and Douglock had turned ugly quickly. Sure, they were supposed to be looking for the Warwolves, but when Kurt had assigned them to work together Rahne was glad for the chance to talk with Doug. But before they could really start Jacko had appeared from nowhere and attacked. And nowhere was where this battle was going, fast. That is until Jacko had sunk his claws into Doug’s back and hoisted Doug over its head.

“Neener neener, lil’ gel. You want your boy-toy back,” Jacko snipped sharply, rather enjoying tormenting the young Scottish girl as she got all rilled up something fierce whenever he attacked this golden boy, “Come and get it.”

“He’s nae an it! Not like ye, ye foul…”

“Actually, Rahne, according to definition, I am technically an ‘it’ as…”

“Shush, Dougie. Ye and I know yuir more than just a machine. Ye have a soul, a wond…”

As much as Jacko was enjoying this he did have to cut the blabbering girl off. “Can you two have a your lil’ quarrel later? We’re in the middle of something here. It’s called a fight?” With that Jacko had enough of it and tossed Douglock away, out to the water.

Watching sail away, Rahne let a low growl come from deep within her throat as she felt herself changing, as she shifted to her half-wolf form. Claws extended and bared, she lept at Jacko intent on striking him about the throat.

“Now this is more what I was getting at,” Jacko seemed pleased with the responce and prepared to strike back.

By the time that Doug had pulled himself from the Thames and made it back to the scene, he noticed two things. One – Jacko standing on his hind legs looking pleased with himself. He was however only just standing, as Wolfsbane had managed to cause the Warwolf physical harm. The marks showed from the fiece battle the two must have had on the scratched silver hide of Jacko, as he got better than he gave. Two – Rahne’s battered form, laying not far from him. He moved to her quickly to examine her. She wasn’t hurt bad but a quick scan revealed a concussion had rendered her inert, and there was no major damage done. She would be fine. Still, Doug was not pleased.

“She was a bit of fun there, chum. All snap and snarl. Adds a bit of fire to your life, does she?”

Standing up and stepping over Rahne, Douglock advanced towards Jacko.

“Right, well, you look mighty pissed about the whole deal. Really, no worries there chum. She’ll be right as rain.”

Stopping as he spoke her name, Douglock looked to the Warwolf, the signature about his left eye flaring up. Concentrating, his body began to glow a little, his hands out to the sides. “This concludes here.”

“Who’s going to stop me? You? Not if I get you first.” With that Jacko lunged forward to Doug at a quick pace and planted his front legs on the boy’s shoulders. Jacko opened his mouth and preparing to drain his life essence before Doug could attack. Doug’s mouth was even open slightly, as if challenging the Warwolf to try. Jacko did try to draw out Doug’s life force but … nothing.

“Surprise!” Doug grinned to his attacker as there wasn’t the result there that was expected in his foe’s eyes. Now instead of confidence there in Jacko there was a degree of … panic? “To answer your question: correct. I have stopped you.”

With that tendrils from Doug’s body whipped out around him, encasing the Warwolf with a layer of his techno-organic self. While some sort of energy prevented him from absorbing the Warwolf into his own collective, he was able to hold the creature in the casing.

“Busted.”

There should be five of them. Pete remembered it from the file he read on these beasties. Not Excalibur’s files, mind you, but Black Air’s.

The Warwolves had been returned to their cage in the London Park Zoo and quite a crowd had gathered to see them once again. A crowd the Warwolves loathed with a passion, the people staring at them. They paced in their public cell, yelling at children and flipping obscene gestures to those that shouted back. They didn’t get /much/ rotten fruit thrown at them.

In the back the lone figure of Wisdom took satisfaction in joining the mob. Anything to make the Warwolves uncomfortable was good in his books. But there was some unease as one of them was still out there. Yet, how did they come back? Pete believed that he knew the who, but not the why. But he was sure of one thing.

Things were only to get more nasty from here.

Noticing that the Warwolves had spotted him, Pete flicked the last dregs of his cig at them, in their gentle direction and waved them off. He had better things to worry about and they did as well. Now they were easy to find.

But, turned, Pete headed home. Home to Excalibur.

NEXT ISSUE: A special one-shot issue of Excalibur as Inspector Dai Thomas, long time ally of both Excalibur and the Knights Of Pendragon, gets his very first solo story! But will this case be his last?!