Three people and one cat… former cat… it is probably still a cat, waited on the regular earth side of the dimensional bubble. The remaining townsfolk had been escorted out and onto a cheap holiday where they would remain until the ‘gas leak’ was over. The remaining community staff filtered out. The final packing up began.

“Does everyone have everything because there is no turning around once we go.” Barked Debs. “At least not for another couple of months. Myles, I hope you watered your houseplants.”

The evacuation was nearly over though the tension was still high. The anticipated boss battle had failed to materialise. The built-up anticipation of violence was missing its intended means of egress. What had materialised, however, was a horde of expense requests for dry cleaning. Tents, uniforms and civilian clothing were covered in Aldrich hang fluids and would need serious scrubbing, preferably at the expense of the higher-ups. Myles Endeavour had forever soured his relationship with the community accounts department.

“My plants are in the garden where they are supposed to be.” Said Myles, Face like thunder.

“What crawled up your bum?” Asked Zara.

Myles had the good graces to look sheepish at his outburst. However, that could also be attributed to the weight of his backpack, an extra backpack full of nice coffee and fancy jam and a third backpack full of cat treats that Charlie kept butting his head against in hopes of shaking something loose. The burden Myles had carried for the last few months was very close to an end but that meant having to look at his shortcomings dead on.

“Sorry Debs. I was unable to locate a few important items. The last thing I need right now is to be spending money and it’s making me grumpy.”

“Apology accepted Myles.” Said Debs.

Zara suspected there was more to it, but decided it could wait just a little bit longer.

Rusty’s community standard vehicle was as packed up and ready to roll as soon as word was given. Debs was similarly packed and ready. The odd duck in the lineup of tough rugged vehicles was a white 1959 Morris Minor. The group watched as the last few people exited and began to dismantle Dr Singh’s science devices. The hole they had torn shrunk back down around Myles’ cube and with a tap, he returned it to his inventory sealing up the now-empty town for the foreseeable future. After milling about for a few more minutes Myles spoke up.

“What’s taking the others so long?”

“Maya is doing some fast-talking with the Brass.” Said Debs

“What Debs means is Maya is un-nerving, confusing and probably outright terrifying someone until she gets what she wants and the other person needs a strong drink and a lie-down.” Added Zara.

“Harsh… but accurate,” said Debs “In fact watch out for them while I order Sharon a bottle of something strong and probably still illegal on Earth.”

Myles gave Debs a side eye as she started typing on her phone. He would have to add interplanetary booze to his community-related bucket list. He would first have to make a community-related bucket list.

The arrival of the two Johns, Rusty and Dr Singh was no surprise. But with them was Rusty’s daughter Cáit and a dark-skinned bald woman in a fur coat, she leaned in whispering something to John Barrington.

Rusty marched the sullen Cáit, arm in a sling, over to Myles who was already in a bad mood and had already decided the day couldn’t get any worse. Charlie however marched over to see his old friends and if they or the new person had any food for him.

“I believe you two have something to say to each other.” Said Rusty.

“I will fucking shoot you and your poxy cat the second you give me a reason.” Said Cáit

Rusty looked skyward drawing on deep reserves of fatherly patience.

“Myles, would you care to demonstrate being the bigger man in this situation?” Asked Rusty.

“Cáit, if you ever pull a gun on my cat again there won’t be a bowling green soft enough to catch you.” Said Myles

The two glared at each other before Rusty stepped between them.

“Now I’m just disappointed in you both.” Said Rusty, turning to look directly at Myles. “You know I have to do this Myles, she is my daughter.”

He knew what was coming. Eager to get it over with, Myles held up his bag of coffee and jam. Rusty reached in and pulled out a jar.

“Jackpot! I love gooseberry.”

“Dad. Are you letting him off the hook for… fucking Jam?” Said Cáit.

“Really really good Jam sweetie.” Said Rusty, patting her on the head.

Cáit stomped off to her designated vehicle muttering a curse on the house of Endeavour and all his fucking jam. The door slam sent a flock of pigeons flying up.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Don’t let me catch you eating it from the jar again.” Said Myles, determined to protect his lost jam from Rusty’s philistine eating habits.

“Ha! No promises.” Said Rusty as he sped off to join his daughter.

The woman in the fur coat appeared next to Myles, seemingly out of nowhere causing him to startle.

“Sorry, I picked that habit up from my Mum” Said the woman holding out her hand. “Dyna Barrington, I’m something of a troubleshooter… probably more trouble than shooting, but I get the job done.”

Myles shook the offered hand.

“I met someone recently who likes to appear out of nowhere causing trouble.” Said Myles, the dots connecting as his internal hamster wheel turned. “I have questions.”

“Most people do. The short answer is the 1969 Isle of Wight festival and enough drugs to pacify a charging Rhino… come to think of it… also the long answer.” Said Dyna.

“Barrington… Singh.” Said Myles.

“Drugs… Rhino.” countered Dyna. “My weird family history aside, I came over to apologise. I should have been in there fighting too. Dad sent the distress signal, but I got tied up with a massive Poblin invasion in Wales.”

“No need to apologise. You couldn’t have known an evil corporation was using weak spots in the dimensional membrane to harvest eldritch abominations and then artificially shunting those same small towns halfway into evil fairy dimensions.” Said Myles in pure deadpan.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” Said Dyna. “But if you want to sleep with me to annoy my Dad let me know.” She gave a wink and headed back to the Morris Minor.

“Part of my job as handler will be preventing you from doing stupid things.” Said Zara

“Part of my job is going to be putting a bell on everyone.” Said Myles.

“Just pay attention, it’s less effort in the long run than trying to affix a little tinkling sound to everyone with basic stealth training.” Said Zara. “Anyway, I know you want to ask, so go ahead.”

“Do you want to go for dinner?”

“The other thing you want to ask.”

Myles slumped a little lower, the weight this time was not from his backpack.

“How many made it out alive?”

“Approximately fourteen thousand out of an estimated twenty thousand population.”

“I told myself I did my best and that the numbers wouldn’t matter because I was just one person…” Said Myles, trailing off into silence as he watched the town on the other side of a flickering purple dome.

“You should know three things Endeavour. “Said Zara. “One, those are in fact great numbers. You held the fort alone as a wet-behind-the-ears rookie and did more than anyone had a right to expect from you. Two, no one gets a perfect score. Not the Paragons, not those of us with localised time-rewinding powers. Three, I like Italian food.

“After the black site mission?’ Asked Myles.

“After the black site mission.” Agreed Zara.

Zara waved Myles off. She did not envy travelling in a Morris Minor with four people and a large cat. She had hated lying to Myles. But it was for his own good. for what came next though, he needed to be gone. The evening air was getting colder, fitting for an act of necessary treachery.

“Do you have them?” Zara Asked.

“What are you two up to?” Asked Debs who was numb to Maya’s nonsense, but expected better of Zara.

“I have them right here.” Said Dr Singh

“Good. Let’s get to work, this shouldn’t take any longer than absolutely necessary.” Said Zara.

“What in the name of Beadles small hand are you two going on about?”

Dr Singh pulled out a pair of green paisley boxers. Placing them on the ground and maintaining a safe distance.

“Those are absolutely hideous and I’m going to wait in the car.” Said Debs taking her leave.

Zara emptied a small bottle of lighter fuel onto the boxers. Dr. Singh threw a match. The green paisley boxers burst into flames. Heat gave the illusion of writhing in agony and Zara almost swore she heard them let out a ghastly wail. They watched the monstrosity burn beyond repair or recognition.

“The world is a better place with them gone.” Said Zara.

“Amen.” Said Dr. Singh

“I think we should pour salt on to be sure.” Said Zara.

“Get in the bloody car!” Shouted Debs, Honking the horn.

Zara did not use the term hero lightly. It was a term she would very rarely apply to herself, even in matters of fact. But today, she, Dr Singh and by extension Deborah Blaise were heroes. They had done battle with poor taste and left the world a better place than it had been this morning.

With one last splutter of green flame, the evil boxers died and were no more.

The Luminary stormed through the halls of his London headquarters. His new hand itched as he flexed the digits. It was a psychosomatic reaction he knew, but Cerulean Sweet had innate pragmatism enough to admit when something… or someone, had rattled him. The Endeavour fellow was by all accounts a barely trained Trigger User active all of five minutes. Yet he had produced a weapon leagues above what he should have been capable of. Weapons of that calibre should have been years in the future for any normal Fairy Trigger. Worse, it had been a weapon capable of hurting him. Cerulean Sweet cursed himself, had he not reacted in such a low and petty manner he could have put him to good use. Instead he had thrown him away in a moment of anger and if he was honest with himself, fear. But chances are he was decorating the inside of Mother’s digestive system by now and no longer a problem. No one ever survived those feuds for long. Maybe if the Trigger was saved in some form it could be negotiated for. Even a broken Trigger can still be put to work or torn apart for research.

He had arrived at his destination, a large meeting room overlooking the city, unlike the clean modern touch of all the other rooms, this meeting space had eschewed minimalism for prestige.Cerulean Sweet put aside his nagging thoughts for the time being, he had an image to maintain. The heavy oak doors proved no match for his inhuman strength as he pushed both open at once in overly dramatic fashion. It was a crass action, but in these circles it wasn’t enough to be powerful, you had to look powerful too. Despite the time away in physio therapy learning to use his new hand and releasing how to use the other he silenced the room upon entry. The muttering fell to whispers and then nothing in short order.

“Report. I want to know everything I missed.” Said Cerulean Sweet, command heavy in his voice.

“Sir, The material harvest might be a write off. A community team has been at the site escorting people out of the bubble.”

Cerulean Sweet rubbed his eyes in a gesture of frustration. He reminded himself not to get greedy, this was a manageable situation.

“That was always going to be a bonus. We have plenty more harvest sites bringing in little and often so will be business as usual. Any new contracts?”

“Two, and renewals from the Engine Dynasty and Pork Lords.”

“Call them the Porcine Bloc to their face. They might not have the same zeal as the Whistlers but last time we had to deal with one of them being offended the office stank of burnt gammon for weeks.

The room took a brief moment of silence. Anyone who hadn’t been there at the time had at least heard first hand about the incident… and the subsequent clean up.

“Give me the other bad news. I can practically feel it coming in my bones.”

Sandra Bright gave a nod to the Luminary stood up and pointed a remote control at the wall. Wood panels slid back revealing a screen filling nearly the entire wall. The content displayed on the screen was tiny windows showing CCTV footage of Whistlers running. Certain Sweet caught the flash of anger on her face. He didn’t need a crystal ball to predict where this conversation was going.

“Earlier today the Whistler type Fae under observation all started moving. The projected destination seems to be in flux, but it has remained consistent for the Whistlers, they are acting more like a floc of birds.

“Endeavour survived.” The Luminary stroked his bearded chin while deep in thought. “I will admit this make me feel somewhat better about losing my hand. An injury felt by someone so wet behind the years is indeed an embarrassment, but if he survived in a carousel both alone and long enough to find egress then that paper cute he gave me was not a fluke. His survival however means they know…”

Cerulean Sweet paused remembering something.

“Sandra, When we gave the location of his to the Whistlers, did they succeed?”

“No sir, Barrington and the other fresh user were with him. We might as well have had them jump in a meat grinder. His mother is alive and well as of the last report.”

“Good, perform a risk assessment and if medium to low bring her to the headquarters. You can never have too many plans in place.”

This was sooner than he had wanted, but the next step had been inevitable and well prepared for. Endeavour had survived. The cat was well and truly out of the bag. But. Everything would work out because he was a great leader.

“The big horrible thing we all knew would happen has happened. The Community knows about our involvement in the preternatural side of things. The price of having our fingers in that particular pie is about to come due. Colour coded teams of self righteous dicks aimed right up our arseholes, not to mention the big metal armour fuckers. But as you know, we have had protocols in place for years. Gather your families, gather the staff and relocate the business to our dimensional fortress. No one is obligated to join us, but know that you will no longer be under the protection of Sweetbright. Sandra, I want you to go and secure the manufacturing facility. The chances they know about it are small but not zero. Save what you can, but if you can’t burn it down and get out.”

“Understood sir.”

“Now, before we enact the genesis protocol are there any remaining orders of business.”

“Mark was caught sniffing glue in the toilets again.” Said Sandra.

Cerulean Sweet rolled his eyes.

“Sort it out Mark, you have a wife and kids.”