Chapter 2: Call the Horseman
Disclaimer: I'm half asleep right now, on the plus side I don't have to go to work for about fifteen hours.
Call the Horseman
"We don't stand a chance against Fred Fredburger the Really Bad," the young council member shouted. "We have to call for help."
"Leaving aside such things as the fact that I just don't feel right about fearing a man with such a name," another council member sneered. "Who do you suggest we call?"
"That's the beauty of it," the council member replied. "The spell will search out and find the being that fits our criteria and bring them here."
"An elegant solution," the other council member conceded. "I withdraw my objections . . . except the one about the name."
"I would like to raise an objection," an old man rose to his feet. "I do not think it right to draft a being into our war, we should not bring them here unless they agree to come of their own free will."
"There isn't time for that," the young member replied. "We must act now."
The general mummer of agreement seemed to support the young man's proclamation.
"Then on your heads be the consequence," the old man replied. "If none of you have the sense to realise that a being as powerful as you intend to summon might get a bit annoyed at being ripped from his world to fight our war then you deserve what happens to you."
"Any being picked up by my spell would be noble enough to see our need and help us," the young man retorted. "And I propose that we conduct the ceremony right now."
"I wash my hands of this," the old man stepped back. "And I would advise all of you to do the same."
"I agree," one of the other members said suddenly. "I will take no part in this foolishness."
A few moments of silence made it clear that the two dissenters were the only voices of sanity and the council began their ritual of summoning.
"So," the old man asked as they watched the younger council members conduct their foolishness. "Why did you decide not to help them?"
"My old arms master," the other man replied. "One of the finest men I ever knew and the only man that had the patience to teach me how to use a sword."
"I don't understand."
"He was also the most dangerous man I ever knew," the man continued. "Just the sort we need to deal with our problem and just the sort that would be willing to help us. I wondered what his reaction would have been if he was kidnapped and dragged off to help in a war that wasn't his."
"I see," the old man agreed. "It looks like things are coming to a head."
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was annoyed, one moment he was walking down the halls of main Black Ink office and the next he was here . . . in front of a bunch of idiots in stupid robes . . . let's just say that he wasn't in a good mood.
"Good day," the head idiot called out. "You may be wondering why we brought you here."
"You brought me here huh?" Harry asked with a grin, "nice to know." And with that, Harry kicked the lead idiot in the groin as hard as he could.
IIIIIIIIII
"See that smile on his face," the old council man asked. "Maybe I was wrong to oppose this."
"You weren't," his companion said quickly. "My old arms master used to have the same smile when he was about to do something evil and sadistic, just watch."
The watched as the strange man kicked the lead idiot in the groin so hard that he raised two feet off the ground, they watched as he tore through the other council members like snot through a Kleenex, and they watched as he picked the leader off the foolishness up off the ground and proceeded to drown him in the sacred pool.
"Poor bastards," the old man said sadly. "I tried to warn them but they wouldn't listen."
"Don't feel too sorry," the other man said with a smile. "He's going easy on them."
"That's easy?"
"He's letting them live isn't he?"
"He's also coming over here," the old man cautioned. "Hello stranger . . . fancy meeting you here."
"Hello," Harry replied. "Were you involved with the idiots that brought me here?"
"I am Elsamore and this is my colleague Lord Trask," the old man said nervously.
"Well?" Harry demanded.
"We are part of the same council but we both argued against it," Trask said quickly. "And refused to have any part of it."
"I see," Harry replied. "My name is Mr. Black . . . why did they decide to interrupt my day?"
"There is a great evil in the land," Elsamore began. "An evil that none have been able to stop."
"And they want me to stop it," Harry finished.
"That would be nice," Trask agreed. "But I think I speak for the both of us when I say that we'd be just as happy if you let us live."
"Without doing to us what you did to the rest of the council," Elsamore added quickly. "It'd be nice to have the option of having more children in the future if the opportunity arises."
"What's in if for me?" Harry asked with a frown.
"To not kill us or to go after Fred Fredburger the Really Bad," Elsamore asked.
"Fred Fredburger the Really Bad?" Harry shouted, "that's what he calls himself?"
"I'm afraid so," Trask agreed. "I think half the reason he went bad was because of what his mother decided to name him."
"Who can blame him," Harry said in shock. "There was this one guy . . . but he named himself that, man what a rough thing to get stuck with."
"Back to the original subject," Elsamore reluctantly brought the conversation back on track.
"Send me home now," Harry said flatly. "And I won't paint the room red with your blood, how's that sound?"
"Strict but fair," Trask said quickly.
"I agree," Elsamore agreed. "But the only one that knows how to do that is currently face down in that pool."
Harry walked over to the pool and pulled the man out, "I know you're not dead yet but I can fix that if you don't tell me what I want to know."
"I keyed the spell to Fred Fredburger's life force," the man coughed. "You'll go home when he dies."
"Wrong answer," Harry said. "Want to try again?"
"It was the only ritual I could find and we were desperate," the man shouted. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd be glad to help."
"Any gladness I might have felt disappeared the second you decided to bring me here without asking," Harry retorted. Dropping the man, Harry turned back to Elsamore and Trask. "Show me the nearest library and get me copies of every book and bit of information you can find and I'll try to forget what I promised to do if you didn't send me home."
"Right away sir," Elsamore agreed.
"Just follow us," Trask agreed.
Harry spent the next two weeks copying every bit of magical knowledge he could find into a magically expanded book that he'd just happened to pick up before he came to this frigging world.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Trask said in greeting. "But have you given any thought to the Fred Fredburger situation?"
"No but I've given a bit of thought to getting a piece of pie," Harry retorted. "If you'll excuse me."
Trask's heart sunk as he watched Harry walk out of the room. "Damn," He muttered to himself. Trask walked out of the library and went off to meet his colleague.
"Well?" Elsmore demanded. "What did he say?"
"He said that he was going to get a piece of pie," Trask replied. "And then he walked out of the library."
"I see . . ." Elsmore began, "were you aware that Mr. Black has copied every bit of information in the library and in my own personal collection . . . along with the collections of every other council member and everyone else we could contact . . . along with every other book that any of us could find."
"Then it's only a matter of time before . . . " Trask trailed off.
"That's what I thought too," Elsmore agreed. "Until I got this message, it arrived just before you came in."
"What does it say?" Trask demanded.
"Fred Fredburger the Really Bad suffered an unfortunate accident just after you spoke to Mr. Black," Elsmore said proudly. "He fell down the stairs in his fortress . . . three times, then he fell out a window into a river and down a waterfall . . . lucky for him he was rescued by a fishwife. She fed him and he choked to death on his meal . . . a fish pie."
"So . . ."
"Our problems are solved," Elsmore finished. "Happy day."
"Let's get on with the ritual to send Mr. Black home then," Trask suggested. "Without delay."
"I couldn't agree more," Elsmore agreed.
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was walking down the street towards his favorite place to get a pie when he felt an odd sensation . . . "What the hell?" He shouted.
"What the hell what?" Henchgirl asked, "and how did you just appear in my shower like that?"
"I . . ." Harry got an eyeful and immediately slapped his hand over his eyes, "sorry about that. I was pulled to another dimension where I was drafted to fight an incompetent evil and I just got back."
"Ah," Henchgirl nodded. "So what you're saying is that I forgot to ward against traveling through parallel dimensions . . . thanks, pass the soap would you."
"Um . . . ok," Harry agreed. "I'll just be going then."
"Don't leave on account of me," Henchgirl said absently. "So tell me about this dimension you went to."
"Ok . . ." Harry sat on a corner of the tub with his back to his friend. "It all started when . . ."
AN: This was all based on an idea on my group by David about Harry using the room of requirements to get help and I got the notion that powerful beings that can help would be annoyed at being ripped from whatever they were doing to help a bunch of kids.
Omake: Many years later . . .
"Sir," a young Auror knocked on the Head of Magical Law Enforcement's door. "We found him."
"Found who?" the chief looked up with an odd expression on his face.
"The dark lord," the Auror checked his notes. "Snodrad?"
"What happened?"
"He was sitting at his desk when we stormed in," the Auror licked his lips. "It looked like he took his wand and shoved it into the side of his own head . . . I've never seen anything like it."
"Write up that he annoyed the wrong man and file it in the black room," the chief nodded. "Looks like he found out about the bigger fish the hard way."
"I thought they said that he was just a myth?" The Auror blinked, "that they made up the stories about him to cover for Black Ink . . . he . . . someone like him can't be real."
"I was there when we went after Voldemort,' the Chief sighed. "All we found was dead minions and a note."
"A note?"
"It said," the Chief took a deep breath. "He annoyed me . . . see that you don't."
Omake because a new book came out . . . The Phule in Black
Due to a series of misfortunes involving the Professor, an odd device, and a fight over who got the last slice of pizza (and Harry still maintained that using an odd device to win an argument was cheating), Harry had once again been tossed out of his world and into another. Knowing that it would be some time the Professor got around to eating the last piece of pizza, which would cause him to have to endure an enraged Henchgirl's savage beating (and as a consequence have to recover before he could remember Harry's plight and set about finding ways to bring him home . . . again.) Harry had decided to join one of the local military organizations to pass the time . . . which was how he found himself standing in front of an imposing man in a black uniform.
"Afternoon," Harry said with a grin. "The Name's Mr. Black."
"Mister?"
"Chief Warrant Officer Black," Harry explained. "Call me Mister Black, Chief Black just sounds odd to me."
"Right," the man agreed with a grin. "And why did they feel the need to send you to my command? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have you but I don't recall requesting an . . . what was it you did again?"
"I'm what you could call a problem solver," Harry replied. "And as for why they sent me . . . well to be honest, they probably sent me here hoping that I'd kill you." Harry explained quietly. "My last few commanders died in horrible accidents . . . I didn't have anything to do with it but rumor has it that I'm some sort of psycho killer . . . or that I'm bad luck."
"Ah, well I'm sure that we'll find a use for you." The man continued, "everyone has a place in Omega company."
"Thanks," Harry replied. "Good to know that. What was your name again?"
"Phule," the man replied. "But you can call me Major Jester."
"Pleased to meet you," Harry said with a grin. "Hopefully you'll last longer then my last few commanders."
"If you don't mind my asking," Phule began.
"Ask away"
"Why haven't you been drummed out of the legion if they think you've been killing off your commanding officers?"
"I guess it would be because they don't want a scandal," Harry answered after a moment of thought. "My first commander was a serial killer that was hiding from the law, the second was a mob hit man and so on. It was easier for the brass to just pretend that nothing had happened and to transfer me to the next unit."
"I see, I'm sorry to hear that you've been shuffled from command to command." Phule said with a kind smile. "Several of the others have experienced the same sort of thing and they've found a home with the Omega mob."
"I don't mind," Harry said with a shrug. "I joined because I figured that the legion was the best way to see the galaxy, so far I've been right."
Omake by luinlothana
Thirteen-year-old Caroline Blake was going down the street in Sydney humming something happily. Suddenly a man jumped from around a corner and grabbed a pink purse she was holding. Before she could utter a word he started running away.
"Oh no" she sighed "Not now"
The man was already around the corner. Suddenly a lightning came out of a blue sky and hit him. He fell to the ground accidentally breaking a large bottle of acid that happened to be lying on the street. Before he could as much as moan a dozen of bricks fell on him from the roof of the nearby house.
"Excuse me, but some man stole my purse" the girl reported to two policemen "He went into that alley"
"He did, didn't he Carrie? Now let's go and see." They went into the alley only to see the body on the unfortunate thief with only one hand untouched. In this hand there was still a purse. "Cor, it's eight this month. Listen Carrie, could you tell your parents not to let you wonder alone so much. The reports started getting boring."
"Well, they are busy with Nellie, Bruce, Willy and Nat. And it's not like it's dangerous." She looked at her watch "I'm sorry but I have to go. My godfather promised to come and take me to the cinema. Se
you next time."
"Well, at least this one is easier than the one who accidentally fell into aa barrel of honey, was run over by a truck, pressed by the tree and eaten by ants."
"True, if we hurry we will still have time to go for a drink after we're done with him. Do you think little Carrie has any more meetings with godfather this month?"
OMAKE by Celebwen Telcontar
The brown haired man sat in his transport, mulling over what was going on. The Telepath's Underground Railroad on Babylon 5 was crumbling now that Byron had performed his little Ghandi impersonation. So now why did the Corps want him to simply abandon Babylon 5, give money to the Underground Railroad and get back to Geneva as soon as his Omega Squadron could! It made no sense!
Bester would not obey. He had hunted far too long for these people! No one would make him look like a fool! Besides, the Corps was mother, the Corps was father.
Al, someone was trying to contact him.
What! This had better be good! he snapped back.
Don't continue to pursue the Underground Railroad! Black Ink. is helping them!
I'm not afraid of a specter, Bester growled into the comlink.
Mr. Bester, Black is still alive. No one can kill him.
He's just a faerie tale to tell to kids to get them to behave, like threatening to sell your kid to the baker down the way!
In that case, why is one of Mr. Black's descendants following every move you make?
One of Mr. Black's descendants? Who is this person?
Captain Susan Ivanova of the EAS Bucephalus. She has been following every move you make, Al. Besides, Jason Mitchell, one of our best Psi Cops besides yourself, has just turned up dead. He drowned in three inches of water in his shower. He was murdered by Mr. Black himself.
I won't back down, Bester snapped in reply.
#Really?# The new voice was chilling and cold. Bester froze. The voice had an unidentifiable accent to it, and seemed like it was the very epitome of death and destruction.
Who is this! Bester snarled.
#Mr. Black. Leave the Underground Railroad alone, Bester. You wouldn't want to have an... accident, would you? Poor Fiona and Matthew Dexter, the leaders of the Telepathic Resistance. They had such high hopes for their son. It's too bad that he was raised as a killer, and too bad that I have to kill him. Goodbye, Stephen Dexter, Alfred Bester.#
What the! How the Hell! You can't... Bester sputtered.
Bester sat back with a thud into his seat.
"Come about," he snapped to his Black Omega squadron.
"Sir?"
"We're going to help the telepaths. It's not too late to change..." Bester turned his ship, smiling for once and ready to turn over a new leaf in his life. He was now who he was meant to be, the son of the leaders of the Telepath Resistance. He nodded to the screen. Thank you, Mr. Black, he Sent to the enigmatic deathless assassin.
You're welcome, Stephen. Help them, for they are human too... a voice whispered in his brain. Bester smiled. He was finally coming home.