Along a quiet British dual carriage way a white Morris Minor sped its merry way towards its destination deep in the countryside. It driver was quiet, locked in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts John?” Asked Myles from the back seat. “If only so you can get back to concentrating on driving, I think we ran over something a mile or two back.”

There was a pause, almost awkwardly long before John Barrington broke the silence and spoke.

“I stand by what I said about not telling you everything yet. But I want to tell you some things now incase circumstance separates us again. First, you know that dimensional room you manifested”

“I’m thinking of calling it the hutch… or the warren.”

“Leave it as undeveloped as you can, as counter intuitive as that sounds… I know I’d be tempted just for the wardrobe space, I could outlay all my cravats on a bespoke wooden shelf.”

“Dad, stay on topic, and it was just a stray traffic cone Myles, so calm down.”

“What’s the problem if it’s as useful as it sounds?”

“One of the people I will be asking to train you, an origin type like you, he developed a similar power. He put so much into it he basically ended up becoming a genius loci. The suit, Trigger and pocket dimension all fused together.”

“And he is trapped inside?”

“Yup, he can move it once every couple of years with great effort. But he can’t leave its confines, it’s huge and you do not want to fight him in there what so ever. He found a role for himself as a trainer and keeper of old knowledge. But it can be a lonely existence and if I didn’t warn you off pissing about with manifesting dimensional storage he defiantly would, probably with a mace.”

“Don’t make the magic wardrobe bigger, got it.” Said Myles still contemplating the horror of that existence, though a small part of his brain tried to recalculate based on access to gaming consoles and beer.

“His name is Hugo Blackguard, knight of old and an Enduring type like me, shockingly nine out of ten old ones are enduring types if you hadn’t put that together yet.”

“Thanks John, I’d have never figured out the really old Trigger users had the type that makes you basically immortal.”

“Wait.. does this mean I’m now immortal?” Asked John Marquis

“Probably, but knowing your Trigger you will need a subscription fee”

John Marquis stared out of the window a faint smile on his lips.

“Anyway young students, the next one would be Loxley A flash bastard who no matter what he might tell you, was not Robin Hood. I was there, he wasn’t and it was Marian doing all the work.”

“We need to hear those stories” Said Myles.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Absolutely not, I have no desire to spend the rest of the car ride reliving the 80’s”

“you used to love my stories!” Said John Barrington.

“you just loved talking about yourself Dad!”

“Any others I should be keeping an eye out for?”

“Yes but those are the important two.”

“Sometimes I do wonder about the standard of your training John. I mean, you are already outsourcing it to a pair of strangers.”

“Young Myles… Yes you are thirty, we know… I’m not training you to win fights, you can get those skills damn near anywhere. I’m tying to train you and all of my past students not to win a scrap or two here and there but to survive wars. I’m training you and trained them to survive when the plan has gone to shit and all you have left is yourself. I’m well aware of my faults on the micro level, I’m aware of how bad my Daughters reputation is.“

“Hey! It isn’t that bad.” Dyna interjected.

“It is that bad sweetie, you nearly made the wanted list on several occasions. As I was saying, Zara and the others might look down on me and mine as something of a nuisance and look to order and a structured education to navigate our world. But if you look at the statistics, it my students who survive… even if they have blown up small parts of Wales to do so.”

“I said I was sorry about that.” said Dyna

“Tell it to the Senedd dear.”

“So are you saying all that combat training Zara put me through was useless?”

“No, it was good training and knowing how to fight is useful, but no amount of sparing prepares you for a real fight. If you entered your first fight thinking about forms and katas you would get your balls stuffed up your arse and posted home to your mum.”

“That example sounds far too specific.”

“It was the 1870’s, don’t worry about it…” John Barrington paused for a moment, chewing on his thoughts. “Since I landed, I’ve been racing the sand in a big fuck-off hourglass and as today confirmed there was worryingly few grains left, I’ve felt it in my bones for a while all while dealing with some weird shit and set backs like how so many of us just up and vanished in the late sixties.”

“We never did figure that out” Said Llex. “In fact I’m fairly sure the attrition rate of new users has been higher that in should be since then.”

“So you were already playing catch up when you heard about the ceramic bedpan rising.”

“Yes…. and its’ called the Porcelain Throne not the ceramic bedpan.”

“Mmm compound interest.” Said John Marquis.

“I had years of preparation up and vanish into thin air. So, maybe I have been throwing people in the deep end and maybe I have been taking some ill thought out risks. One such risk was handing over the mystery Trigger with the dangerous aura to the doughy corpse it took a liking to, I have to say that one has been working out quite well for me young Myles”

“Hey! I wasn’t that… okay maybe a teeny bit… damn it.” Said Myles.

“The girls at the office used to call him resting Dad-Bod” Said John Marquis.

“Did the man from Luxembourg tell you to say that?“

“Theres a guy from Luxembourg?” Said Dyna.

“Yes, he beat up Myles with a cast iron pan.”

Dyna was affronted, the outrage clear across her face.

“Get it together Myles, you should be better than letting random European men batter you with high maintenance cookware. Dad, we should get the guy who did you student in. I don’t just mean to send a message, but that too obviously, but because it’s dangerous to have continental strangers with the power to take out a trigger user just roaming about free.”

“Sorry dear, he fled to Iran.”

“I have an apex predator predator sleeping next to me. Don’t make me wake him up.

“Apparent weakness to kitchen appeal aside I have a serious question Myles.” Said Dyna. “How long have you had your Trigger?”

“Depending on how time worked in the big purple hell bubble we just escaped, a few months maybe.”

“Because it sounds like you were on your way to looking like a bad Father Christmas impersonator and now… Well, you still look like you are on your way to impersonating Father Christmas, but more of a St. Nick who got really into salads and leg days.”

“… Thanks.” Said Myles. suddenly self conscious. “but my hair only turned white after I died.”

“Don’t get me wrong, most of us end up looking pretty good. It is night impossible to be burning the kind of calories a super hero requires, let alone a Trigger and still stay chonky.”

“I wasn’t that chonky” said Myles defensively.

“your other nickname was Jam Roly-Poly” Said John Marquis helpfully.

Myles sat with quiet dignity, allowing the irritation to wash over him. He was aware he had not been in the best shape and he would not let this get to him. He would rise above it.

“Because he loved Jam and had a body type people would ascribe to a fun loving personality, except he was mostly grumpy.” Said john Marquis unhelpfully.

“Thank you for your enlightened contribution to the discourse John.”

“No worries Myles.”

“Hold up.. you died? like stuffed it, are you sure you weren’t resting… or stunned?”

“Nope, bereft of life, metabolic processes were history, kicked the bucket. I got better though.”

“Dad can I shoot your zombie student before he eats us.”

“Sorry sweetie, young Myles, like I just hinted at, is an investment.”

“Bugger that, first chance I get I’m off”

“Can you honestly tell me that after everything you have seen the Fae do, you would sack it all off?”

John Barrington’s words hit home. Visions of a woman he had failed being sucked up the nozzle of a Whistler flashed across Myles’ brain. He looked at the extra large ball of fur next to him, remembering how small and broken he had looked. Myles wanted out, he wanted peace. But he now had the ability to protect people, he could protect the peace of others.

“Just pull into the next services, I’m going to need a large coffee before we get to the blacksite.” grumped Myles.