Arrival

Piccadily Circus was quiet. In the distance could be heard the moans and the prayers of the dying, but in Piccadily Circus nothing lived except the rats and the birds, feasting as they always feast after a battle. A pile of bodies lay at the entrance to the tube station, a grotesque mockery of the rush hour. The neon signs sparked and crackled, blood and gore dripping from the McDonalds sign - one take away that would be left behind. The statue of Eros was be-ribboned with the entrails of an Asian girl and her white beaux.

Above all this the all encompassing dome arched. It glittered slightly, a sickly yellow colour. Suddenly, a patch of sky blurred and darkened and, in some unexplainable manner, it twisted. The patch went black. There was something. A small dot, slowly growing. It was difficult to say whether the dot was something a long distance away and getting closer or if it was something else, some growth on the smooth, unblemished blackness of the patch.

Then the question was moot as a figure burst out of the patch, a woman dressed in figure hugging red, white and blue. The figure dropped out of the sky before slowing and stopping, hovering above the desolation. Her mouth fell open when she saw the destruction.

"No,' she whispered, "it's happening again. I can't take this. Why? Why me?" Suddenly a sound behind her made her start. She span around just as a demonic creature smashed into her. Linda McQuillan, Captain UK, shot backwards into a neon sign hanging on one of the buildings around the square.

Silence reigned for a few moments as the demon - one of the Fomor - hovered, in an obvious state of priapic excitement , it's great wings flapping slowly. It watched the hole in the building for a minute or two before coming to the conclusion that its prey was dead.

'"That be another for yon game, "it thought. "I be winning that there prize. That be two hundred for me now. That looked like one of them there heroes 'n'all." The Fomor twisted in the sky as it turned to fly off searching for more victims.

Linda McQuillan flew from the hole in the building like a purple comet. She hit the Fomor in the side with a loud crack of bones snapping like an old, dead tree trunk in a high wind. One of it's wings started to crumple and then it was hit by the sonic boom of Linda's passing. The Fomor spiraled to the ground, lifelessly.

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! I AM NOT A PUPPET!" Linda screamed. She floated down to the ground and landed next to Eros. She fell to her knees and put her head in her hands.

"This can't be happening,' she said, "it's a dream. Those two creatures that sent me here, saying that I was living in some fake reality. It's not true. Rick, Michael and the others, it was all real. Wasn't it?" She looked around her. Slowly she stood up.

She knew. Her time in that heavenly fantasy was just that, a fantasy. She knew. Roy, Gaath, Andy and the others. They are all dead. Killed by the Fury. She knew. Her life was just a joke. She was going to find the bastards who did this to her. That bastards who wouldn't let her live how she wanted to live.

She looked into the sky, at the glistening dome above her and knew what her first priority was. She was going to find the person who had brought about all this death and destruction. She was going to make that person pay dearly for all the horror in her life. She had to find Brian. Brian would know what was happening - he was always at the centre of the horror. Brian Braddock and horror. These two things seemed to be that only constants in her life. She recalled a line she had once read;

' All we have in common is the horror in our lives.' It never seemed more apt. Linda McQuillan, Captain UK, formerly of Earth 238, straightened up and, with barely a quiver of her muscles, leapt into the sky, her mind set on only one thing - Vengeance.

A Time of Miracles

Linda McQuillan was worried and confused. Normally, the Vicious Boys were easy. They may have all the hitting power of an enraged bull elephant, but they also had the organisational abilities of an aardvark. But this time, attacking the Houses of Parliament, Downing Street and the BBC at the same time? This wasn’t their usual style. To make it worse, she had raging flu that was making her head feel as if it was filled with tapioca.

Of course, that wasn’t the real problem. No, the real problem was the fact that Carl Vicious was holding her in a head lock, whilst his brother, Edgar, was preparing to kick her spine out through her guts. That was her real problem. God knew what Eddie was doing, Linda certainly didn’t. Linda tried struggling again, but Carl had a tight hold. The way he was holding her, she couldn’t get a purchase on him and she was very uncertain of her footing on the ground.

“Ah’m gonna kick ‘er inta orbit, Carl, just you watch,” grunted Edgar.

There was a thud-thud-thud as Edgar began to run up and Linda screwed her eyes closed in anticipation.

After a few moments, Linda felt Carl’s grip loosening and she twisted and pushed with all her strength. Carl streaked away as if he’d been shot from a cannon, straight towards the scaffolding surrounding Nelson’s Column.

“Oh, sh...” Linda started to say, but stopped as a figure in gold and blue streaked up and caught the flying Carl with one hand.

“HOWZAT??!” the flying man shouted, ecstatically, before floating down, holding the struggling Vicious Boy in one gloved hand.

“I believe you may have dropped something, miss,” he said, with a gentle smile, “I thought the government wouldn’t appreciate having Nelson’s Column damaged before the last lot was sorted out. Who was it last time? The Arachnid against Professor Squid, wasn’t it?”

Linda was almost overcome by the sight of this man in front of her. He was utterly perfect. She had thought that she was used to super-heroes - she had met most of them - Tom Rosetta, The Iron Talon, the Crusader and, whilst they were handsome men at the peak of physical perfection - with the obvious exception of Android Andy - she had never felt overpowered by them. But this man, his charisma was almost like a physical blow. She felt herself going weak at the knees. Her gaze traveled up his body, pausing once or twice to examine his most obvious... attributes and then reached his face. It was almost classically Greek in its beauty. He had a strong aquiline nose, piercing blue eyes and wavy, red hair. His smile showed perfect, white teeth.

(I can’t think of anything to say. This is ridiculous, I feel like a schoolgirl) O o . Linda thought.

“Are you all right?” the man said, “I hope this brute didn’t hurt you.”

He shook Carl roughly and Carl , who had been struggling, wailed and struggled even more. “Shut up,” said the man and back-handed Carl across the back of the head. Carl slumped forwards and the man let him drop to the ground.

“Er... the other two..?” Linda asked, in a small voice.

“Oh, they’re over there. I say, aren’t you that new heroine? Captain UK?”

“Yes, yes, I am. You’re Miracleman, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not. He’s my older counterpart, I’m the sidekick of the Miracle Family, Junior.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, Miracleman Junior, sorry.”

“That’s fine, miss. Please, call me Rick, everyone else does,” he said.

“Rick? Okay, and you must call me Linda.” she replied. (Bloody hell, I’m blushing) O o . she thought . o O (I feel naked. Why does this costume have to be skin tight?)

“I saw you having a bit of trouble with those three and thought that I would help out,” Rick said.

“Thanks. I don’t... I don’t...” Linda sneezed, explosively, “Oh, excuse me.”

“Are you all right, Linda?” Rick asked, suddenly concerned. He took off a glove and put his hand to her forehead. “God, woman, you’re burning up. You should be at home in bed, not out here, fighting these idiots. Look, here come Super-Power Special Branch. They can clear up. Let me take you home. Come on.” He held her gently around the waist and leapt into the sky.

“Hold on, girl,” Linda told herself, “he’s just another man.”

She had a difficult time convincing herself of this, though.

Linda directed them back to her home and in almost no time she was sitting in bed, wearing a dressing gown.

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Are you respectable, Linda?” Rick called.

“What am I doing, I’ve only just met him and he already knows where I live. He could be Masquerade or Face-On,” she thought. But she knew he wasn’t. None of their disguises could come anywhere near the awe-inspiring perfection of this man. “Yes,” she called, “come in.”

He entered the room, holding a steaming mug and stopped when he saw her. “I... er... I... well... Do you like Horlicks?” he stuttered. Linda realised with a start that he was embarrassed.

“Yes, thank you, I do,” she said.

He put the mug on her bedside table.

. “I have to go and see MM, but I’ll come back in the morning to see how you’re feeling. If that’s okay?” He said, shyly.

“Yes, please do. That would be lovely,” she said.

He flew out of the window, too fast to be seen by anyone. Linda lay back in her bed and snuffled gently to herself. “I think I’m in love.”

The next morning he brought flowers

A Sound Of Thunder

The sky was filled with fire. The streets were filled with people. Chaos ruled.
It was a time of war. It was a time of heroes.

“God, that is pretentious rubbish!”

Linda McQuillan was sitting at her desk reading what she had just written. How was she supposed to be able to write a sensible account of the Troubles when she couldn’t rise above the levels of some comic book hack? Her editor was going to kill her.

She got up from behind her typewriter and went into the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of teas would help revive some of the creative juices that had quite obviously become totally comatose.

Standing in front of a window looking out at the Brixton street, Linda stood and mused quietly to herself. Funny, how all of the big Troubles had started at the same time as her own smaller problems. That accusation of plagiarism. Her car being stolen. Her boyfriend coming out as a transvestite. It had all happened within a fortnight. Then the morning after her boyfriends revelation he was gone. One of the first to be lost to the Troubles.

Of course, they weren’t known as the Troubles then. No, it was just a ‘freak occurrence’ according the BBC. ITN preferred to call it a ‘unlucky, once-in-a-lifetime accident’. No, the Troubles were still the official term used for the Northern Ireland ‘problem’. Of course, after Northern Ireland suffered a ‘freak occurrence’ the problem was pretty much sorted out.

She sat down again and started to type.

What were the Troubles? Could anyone explain? Could anyone help? Where would it end? Where did it start?

She ripped the paper out of the typewriter, screwed it up and threw into the bin, cursing a blue streak. That was even worse than the pseudo-epic rubbish. She just couldn’t get a handle on it. It was too big for her. She had to make it smaller. But smaller meant personal and the loss of Eddie was still too recent. If only she hadn’t reacted the way she did. After all, he wasn’t telling her that he was gay or seeing another woman. All he did was wear lingerie and dresses occasionally. What was so bad about that? If only she hadn’t thrown him out of her flat he would still be alive now. She stood up. This was not going to get her anywhere. She was never able to write when she was unhappy or stressed and, she had to face it, she was both at the moment.

Richmond Park. It was her place. When she needed to get away from it all, it was where she went. Wide open spaces was what she needed now. It was nothing like her native Cumbria, the Peak District, but when she couldn’t climb Scafell Pike it was the next best thing.

The roads were empty. Linda, in her cynical moments, thought that this was one of the positive side-effects of the Troubles. Everyone seemed to have scattered - left the capital and gone to ground in the countryside. They seemed to have the idea that they would be safer if they weren’t surrounded by lots of people. There were still lots of people - there were a lot of old folks talking about the ‘Blitz spirit’ as if the Troubles was something that could be overcome by brewing tea and sitting in Anderson shelters. It wasn’t so much ‘Hush, Here Comes A Whizzbang’ as much as ‘Hush, Here Comes A Totally Inexplicable And Mind-Numbing Calamity’. Oh, God, she was even thinking badly. Her mind was really going. She’d be reading the Sun and buying disco albums next.

Linda shivered. Suddenly, what had been a nice, pleasant spring day, had turned dull and overcast. She looked into the sky and was surprised to see that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. But, where the sky had been a vibrant blue and the sun a yellow-white orb, both looked washed out and grey. There was one bright spot in the sky, a brilliant, glaring white that was getting swiftly larger.

She pulled the car over to the edge of the road and got out. She jumped as a loud thud sounded behind her. She span around and looked curiously at the sparrow lying, motionless on the bonnet of her car. It was only half there, it looked as if it had been cut cleanly in half in one single motion. Then, her face cleared, she looked up and a look of panic crossed her face.

“Oh.... Oh.... Oh...” Linda McQuillan, a woman who made her living from words couldn’t think of a single one.

She leapt into her car, gunned the engine and, wheels screeching, accelerated away down the road.

The radio, which she had tuned to Radio 4, suddenly squealed and squawked. Linda reached forward and fumbled with it, turning it off, but the squealing continued, getting louder and louder. In the rear-view mirror she could see the whiteness getting closer and closer to the ground. She knew what it was. It was nothing. When it touched the ground, it would wipe clean the area to the bedrock, leaving nothing behind - no bodies, no debris, nothing.

The whiteness was blindingly bright. Linda hunched down in the car, willing it forward ever faster. The most terrifying thing was the lack of noise.

The whiteness touched the earth and was gone. Linda glanced into her rear-view mirror, not believing that she had been that close to it. This would give her something to write about.

A huge crashing tidal wave of noise suddenly enveloped the car, shaking it and slewing it around. Linda slammed her foot onto the brake and put her hands over her ears. The noise was so big, it engulfed her and threatened to shatter her. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.

“What...? Thunder?” She mumbled to herself, not quite sure whether she could hear anything or not. Then, she realised what she was looking at.

Down the road, back towards where the whiteness had touched, the ground and all the buildings were rippling. They seemed to be slowly flying apart. How could she forget about the devastation that surrounded all the places that had been wiped clean? Then, it was on her.

Afterwards, lying bent, broken and bleeding in the wreckage of her car it had all seemed perfectly normal. At least, compared to what came after that, anyway.

An enormous black bird was sitting on the top of the wreckage looking at her, first with one large, luminous yellow eye and the other, as if it couldn’t quite believe what it was seeing.

“I wish that crow would go away and let me in die peace,” Linda thought.

Linda didn’t hear the reply. She just knew that the words she had been thinking had been heard and she had been given a reply, but the words had not been spoken, they had just been placed in her memory.

“Two things. Firstly, I am not a crow, I am a raven and, secondly, I am not going to let you die. I have a job for you, if you want it.”

“A job? Yes, of course. I don’t think I’m going to be writing anything for a while, so I need something to get me a bit of money,” Linda wasn’t sure if she said it or thought it, but, it didn’t seem to matter to this cr... raven.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

. . .

“Good, now open them again.”

This was different. The voice was the same, but Linda actually heard them this time, rather than just remembering them.

She opened her eyes, closed them and then opened them again. Something was wrong. Damn it, her father had been right all along. There was a heaven. This was not going to be good. Although, by the look of all the minarets and Arabian Nights stuff, she thought that her father was going to be surprised when he met Mohammed rather than Jesus.

“This is not heaven. You are not ready to go on to the next life yet. I brought you here to give you a job.”

The man did not look anything like a raven, although his voice was the same. He was tall and had a shock of red hair on his head and a bushy red beard. Behind him was a woman with long black hair and elfin ears.

“Where am I?” Linda asked, then winced at the questions triteness.

“Welcome to Otherworld. I am Myrr, and this is my daughter, Roma. I shall ask you again, do you want a job?”

Linda realised that she was not in pain any more. She looked down at herself and saw that she was lying on a chaise lounge, wearing a white, silk gown. “Myrr? As in King Astor and the Pentagram Table?”

“Yes. I am he. Do you want a job?”, Myrr asked again.

“What sort of a job?” Linda asked.

“The United Kingdom is in great danger. That which you call the Troubles is only the beginning of the danger for the country. In a time of need such as this, it is possible to grant one person the ability to wield power to avert that danger. You have been chosen, Linda McQuillan.”

“Me? Why me?” Linda was bewildered. (I must be delirious) O o . she thought . o O (what a way to die, with some kind of teenage power fantasy running through my head.)

“This is no delirium induced vision, Lady McQuillan. Please listen to my father,” Roma spoke with a gentle, lilting tone that was soothing and almost hypnotic.

“Okay, so how do I get the job?” Linda asked.

“Choose.”

Everything went black.

“That’s not fair. This is no way to die, with a cliffhanger like that,” Linda shouted.

In front of her an anvil stood before her, bathed in a soft, golden light. On the anvil... no, not on... in the anvil was embedded a sword and an amulet.

“Choose.”

She slowly approached and walked around the anvil.

“Choose? What? The sword or the amulet? Is this where you reveal to me that I am King Astor reincarnated?”

“Choose.”

“Okay, okay, I get the idea. Sword or amulet? Well, the sword wouldn’t be of much use to me. I don’t think I could lift it, never mind use it, so I think that I’ll go with this amulet. Let’s see where that gets me.”

She pulled the amulet gently and it lifted from the anvil, leaving the anvil’s surface unblemished. Holding it up, she examined the intricate carving on the amulet’s face.

“You have chosen.... wisely.”

Suddenly, Linda was plunged into darkness again. There was a pause, as if the whole world was holding it’s breath and then light slowly started to filter back.

This light was a cheerful, bright sunlight and she could hear birds singing.

Looking around her, she saw the wreckage of her car, come into focus. Above her, there was a loud flapping of wings and a black shadow seemed to flit away from the car.

She jerked up and was surprised to see the twisted metal that had pinned her down tear like paper.

Through the torn and tattered remains of her skirt and blouse she saw a skintight red, white and blue costume. Lying next to her was a mask with a stylised Union Flag symbol on her forehead.

“I’m... a superhero?” she said.

She picked up the mask and looked at it, before slipping it over her face. It was strange, but not uncomfortable, although the way it cut off her peripheral vision a bit would take some getting used to. There was another loud ripping noise above her and the roof of her car peeled away, revealing a teenage boy, wearing a glowing green medallion.

“I’m Tom Rosetta,” he said, “I thought I saw someone moving. Wow, I thought everyone would be dead, that was a really bad one. Are you a superhero too? I mean, you’ve got a costume and everything, but I don’t recognise you.”

“Yes, I’m...” Linda paused and then, once again, words were placed in her memory. “I’m Captain UK” she said, proudly.

All characters trademark and copyright Marvel Comics Inc.

"Memories from a Distant Home" originally appeared in a different form in "Crusaders Annual 1" by Stephen Mellor and Neil Gow. It has been slightly modified to hew more closely to the editor's interpretation of Earth-238 canon.

For more on Captain UK's adventures on Earth-238, consult Stephen Mellor's "Captain UK: Body & Soul," at http://www.samarcand.co.uk/fiction/capuk/capukintro.html