The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 02-21-22

Edited by Christopher Leeson
Revised 04-09-22
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Chapter 20

THE GANG OF FOUR

Four Mighty Ones are in every man.
A perfect unity cannot exist
But from the Universal Brotherhood of Eden,
The Universal Man, to whom be Glory evermore...

William Blake
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Oh, hell! Busted! I could dig in and deny everything, but it sat wrong with me to lie to a decent person, especially one to whom I’d just appealed for help.

I couldn't speak the words I needed, so I just I nodded.

"I’m terribly sorry,” Hardcase said. “I guess I don’t really know you at all. In the news, you come across as an introspective loner, not a family person."

"Can’t a person be both?” I asked.

"What happened to the boy? How long has he had ultra powers?"

"They came on him only tonight. It must have something to do with the crazy things that are happening all across the face of the world.”

“Did this happen because his mother is a sorceress?”

“I don’t know. But when magic took over, it affected his mind, too. He's been lashing out as if the whole world is his enemy."

Hardcase frowned. "And with powers like his, he can really make a career of getting even!"

"If he keeps destroying things, he’s bound to get destroyed himself," I said. "And we especially need to keep him from killing anyone. Becoming a murderer could ruin his entire life. But watch out! His power is fantastic. Even together, we aren't a match for him. Strike is coming, you already know. And Yrial of the Strangers must be getting close, too."

He rubbed his chin. "Yrial, huh? I met her along with all the other Strangers." Then, his brows knitted, he said, "You've come by yourself. Where's that excitable fellow who was with you on the Godwheel? Lukasz? He didn’t seem like the sort who’d let you go through this crisis alone."

I took a hard swallow. "He’s dead. Necromantra...killed him."

"But, you were Necromantra!"

“For a little while. When she was cast out of my body, she possessed another powerful witch.” I wanted to change the subject. "What's this I hear about you leaving UltraForce?"

He shook his head. "Aladdin came to the team talking themselves up as patriots and made a big impression on the rest of our group. I tried to explain to those novices that Aladdin was part of the Deep State and couldn't be trusted but, like most people, they don’t believe that a Deep State exists.” He trailed off, obviously not liking the subject. "You know, Mantra, I never understood why you didn't choose to join the UF. Magic has always been something we’ve been in great need of."

I shook my head. "Prime came to me with his invite at a bad time. I was within an ace of giving up my Mantra gig. I decided to stay with it, but since then I’ve been pinned down by one crisis after another. On top of it all, I’ve got a family and a secret life to protect. Every day I seem to be stretched to the limit."

"Well, if things change, we could sure use you in the Paladins."

"The Paladins?"

"That’s the code name we have for the new group. It was Choice’s suggestion."

"Ask me again after we clear up this current craziness. By the way, I see that Choice isn’t with you."

He looked off into the distance. "She’s going to be lying low for a while. Things are kind of delicate with her right now.”

There was surely some hidden subtext behind his comment, but didn't feel like prying.

“So, your boy suddenly got ultra powers and tried to burn down Canoga Park Elementary?” Hardcase continued. “Did he hate homework that much?"

"All I know is that he was spitting angry when the magic came on him and he got locked up into that emotion."

"What made him so angry?"

"I'd confined him to his room because he’d been mean to his sister."

"That’s it?”"

"Yeah. But for now, I should check in with Strike and Yrial. By the way, Tom, did you notice that Aladdin squad prowling around the school?"

"No, I didn't. I’m not surprised, though. Those guys seem to turn up everywhere."

"The leader of that particular squad is called Wrath."

He frowned. "I've heard that name before."

"The name is being recycled. This is a whole different man."

"If the new guy is Aladdin-issue, we have to assume that he can't be trusted."

"Probably true," I replied. “But I’ve seen him do at least couple decent things.”

“Good to know. If he and I clash, I’ll try not to break too many bones.”

"That’s up to you. Right now, I've got to do a little mind-to-mind communication."

With him looking on, I touched my fingertips to my temples and concentrated: "Mantra here, Strike. Whereabouts are you?"

I repeated the telepathic call twice more before an answer came:

"Mantra, I went over to one of my local hidey holes to pick up some equipment. I managed to contact Hardcase. He'll probably be showing up soon."

"He already has. He's standing beside me now. I don't know how to thank you for helping out."

"If I didn’t know you were going through hell right now, I could have some fun with a good straight line like that, Luke. But when a kid's in trouble, it's no time for joking. Where should I meet you guys?"

"Runnymede Park. That's several short blocks east of my house. We'll be waiting for you in the biggest grove. If there's a change of plans, I'll buzz you back.”

"Okay. Strike off."

I hurriedly sent out another mind-message, this one aimed at Yrial.

She “picked up” very quickly. “Mantra, I was just about to contact you. I am north of Malibu, in what is called Thousand Oaks. I wasn't able to reach Shadowmage."

“That’s bad luck.” I filled her in about the schoolhouse arson. "Try to get a fix on my aura," I said. "It'll guide you in. We'll be rendezvousing with Strike, too."

"The mercenary?"

"He's a more than just a mercenary. He's probably the best friend I have." That might have been an overstatement, at least as far as this world went. Back home, Warstrike and I were close allies, but I didn’t know about this local guy’s relationship with Mantra. What concerned me most was the technology he was bringing. I sure hoped that it was something we could use to bring Gus back from the brink safely.

#

Yrial descended from the sky a few minutes later. The magic-wielding Stranger was wearing a basic green costume, instead of the violet one I was used to. Different colors for different worlds, I supposed.

Her barbaric headdress looked the same, though, and so did the large gems attached to her belt, boots, and tiara. Gold gleamed from her wristlets and queen-sized earrings. Though dark-complected, she was more Amerind looking than African. The inhuman thing about her was her eyes – rosy blanks with no visible irises or pupils. They gave her attractive face a demonic cast. I could only wonder whether this ocular peculiarity was typical of her people, or something unique to Yrial herself.

The sorceress was, by the way, the only crime-fighting ultra I knew of who wielded dark magic. Like Necromantra, she drew magical power from dying persons or beasts. My history with dark sorcerers had not been a good gone, and necromancy had always made me uneasy. But I had never seen Yrial do anything cruel or evil, so I had gradually become more at ease around her. It so happened that she was one of the few on Earth who had already seen me in my Blackbird outfit, thus I didn’t need to explain why I was wearing it.

She and Hardcase briefly renewed their acquaintance and the three of us promptly took off across Topanga Canyon Boulevard, passing by the smoldering schoolhouse. Yrial and I flew side by side, while Hardcase came after us leaping a block at a time, by means of his incredibly powerful legs. We switched over to Sherman Way and followed it to Runnymede Park. I inwardly debated telling my allies about the disaster facing New York, but I kept mum, not wanting to distract them from the mission at hand. Besides, any ultras seen in that vicinity would probably be suspected of causing the disaster. What was going to cause it? As far as I knew, Nemesis had been destroyed before the NYC disaster. But if it wasn’t her, what would cause the blast? And without knowing the cause, how could it be prevented? Being unable to prevent the catastrophe, one would be wise to stay away from it. We ended our trip at the grove of maples near its center. "Guys,” I said, “do either of you have an idea about subduing a super-powered sorcerer without making him suffer too much?"

Hardcase’s face remained blank, but Yrial frowned and said, "I have a possible answer, Mantra, one gained at sad cost. Do you remember Atom Bob?"

I nodded. "Of course. He was the Stranger with some really fancy matter-changing tricks. Lady Killer’s press release said that he'd gone on a sabbatical for private study. Because gathering ultra data happened to be my business, I also knew that Bob had not been reported back thus far. The gravity in Yrial’s expression suggested that there was more to his disappearance than met the eye.

"Our group had to confront demons,” the sorceress said, “but their evil surrounding them was like a plague and Bob became infected. His powers increased to frightening proportions and he began working behind the scenes to destroy the Strangers. It took all of our ingenuity to subdue him."

"How, exactly, did you subdue him?"

"I placed him into a magical coma. He is now confined in a remote European clinic. It’s doctors are seeking to expunge his demonic drives, but have reported only failure as of yet."

"What befell Atom Bob sounds a lot like what happened to the boy, Gus," I said. "There’s a doctor who thinks she can cure him, and I hope she’s right. Is the coma spell teachable, or would you be willing to perform it yourself?"

"I prefer to do it, Mantra. It is drawn from very dark magic, but a necromancer can use it without doing additional harm to himself. My people once drew their power from life and light, just as you do, until our ancestors performed a rite of demonic sacrifice to meet a crisis. By so doing, they and their heirs became shackled to the forces of darkness. Every generation of ours has tried to climb up from the pit, but we cannot find the way."

Yrial's eyes, blank though they were, somehow conveyed anguish. This wasn’t the first time I had heard about magicians who used black sorcery could become entrapped by it. I had myself once taken a baby step into the dark spell casting but, as far as I knew, hadn’t suffered any consequences. My late master Archimage had been an S.O.B., but even he had been scrupulous in avoiding the necrotic arts -- in contrast to his brother Boneyard, who had wallowed in them.

"If you have any doubts for your own safety, Yrial, I am willing to take the risk upon myself,” I told her frankly.

Yrial meet my glance with interest. "Mantra, why do you care so much about this unfortunate boy, to risk the ruination of your own life?"

"I -- I know his family," I explained lamely. "They deserve better than this."

“As I say, it is best that I do the deed. But you can help me, Mantra. A moment ago you spoke of a doctor’s hopeful treatment for the boy. Can the same means be harnessed to deliver Atom Bob from his plight?"

I shrugged. "She'll be going into unknown territory. There's no way to prove in advance that her theory can save anyone at all."

Yrial gazed off into the darkness. "If it offers no more than a straw of hope, I would grasp at it."

Our conversation was interrupted by an engine’s roar. A custom-job was tearing up the turf across Runnymede Park. When the high-octane monster skidded to a halt under the lamplight, I saw an impressive, heavy-duty, souped-up motorcycle. But the figure in the saddle didn't look like the man I had been expecting.

Brandon Tark’s build was the same, not much smaller than Hardcase himself, but I'd never seen Warstrike wearing a costume like that one. His loopy hero suit looked like something out of the mind of a second rate comic-book artist. Beyond that, he had on red-colored chest-and-shoulder armor, along with a new-style mask with eye-holes filled by two-way lenses. I would have ribbed him about wearing a rig so trashy, except that I was in no mood for levity. At least I wouldn't mistake “Strike” for the Brandon Tark I knew. The difference would keep me on guard around a man whom I actually didn’t know well enough to trust.

Strike dismounted and my two other companions stepped up to meet him. The newcomer started questioning them about breaking events.

"Gus has already done his best to burn down his own school," I answered for the pair. "Just be on guard. He’s very powerful and shows no respect for life. I tested his strength earlier and couldn't stand up to him at all. Though he has very little experience using sorcery, he’s incredibly adaptable."

"Do you have a capture plan, Mantra?" Yrial asked.

I gave a grimace. "That depends. Strike, what equipment did you bring?"

"I've got knockout-gas and some gadgets that Gizmo designed," the masked man replied. "They’re intended to make it easier for me to bring the bad guys back alive -- instead of the way I usually do it."

I winced at his blunt jibe. The Warstrike whom I knew was a wild risk-taker, a rough and ready ex-special forces soldier, but despite the front he put up, he had been neither a brute nor a deliberate killer. I hoped that was true of his alter ego, too.

Seeing my reaction, Strike caught himself and said, “Sorry.”

He then described the salient points of his gadgets. To me, they seemed crude by the standards of Aladdin's ultra-subduing equipment. “Remember who the target is, Strike,” I said. “We’ll have to be very, very careful using them.” I pivoted and sized up the lay of the land. "This park will make as good a battlefield as any we can find around here. Here's how I think we should lure Gus in and take him on...."

#

A few minutes later, with everyone in his place, I stood up front alone, resolved to send out a telepathic call. The recipient would be myself.

"Mrs. Blake! Mrs. Blake, can you hear me?!" I said.

I answered my own question: "I hear you! But who are you, and how can you be speaking into my head?"

"I am Mantra, and I have many amazing powers!"

"Of course, Mantra, it had to be you. Have you found Gus yet? People say that he set fire to the school! Oh, Mantra! I didn't raise him to be such a bad boy. You have to bring him home before the police catch him and put him in jail."

"Don’t worry about that. I have with me the most effective kind of help. You can count on our team to carry out our mission," I responded. "But why has Gus been so angry and destructive?"

"It was just a silly little thing. I slapped him because he'd made his sister cry, and then told him he had to stay in his room until he apologized."

"It's sad. Children who can't control their tempers are always the ones who end up in reform school."

"Reform school? That would be terrible! Wouldn't it be enough punishment if I have him take the garbage regularly?”

"Well, yes, I suppose a severe punishment like that might be enough. If he minds his mother and does no more harm from now on, a judge might show him leniency. But for now, don't worry. My comrades and I will find your missing son and return him to you safely."

"I hope you can. Where are you now, Mantra?"

"I’m waiting alone in Runnymede Park, quite close to your own home. My ally, Hardcase, has gone ahead to gather up the rest of our team. We'll need them all if we're going to face down Gus. Don't worry, Mrs. Blake; we always get our man. If Gus surrenders peacefully, we will treat him well. The next time you see us, we will have the boy with us."

"That would be wonderful, Mantra. I so love him. I have this bad feeling that if he starts another fight, he’s going to get very badly hurt."

"It’s all in his own hands. If he's polite and respectful, nothing tragic will happen. Mantra out!"

My charade was calculated to make Gus angry enough to give up any other mischief he might be planning and come instead to “surprise” me at the park. I wasn't looking forward to the coming fight, but if we didn’t get the lad under control, it was only a matter of time before Aladdin would catch up with him and use their advanced weapons to defeat and imprison him. I wanted him placed in Pinnacle’s hands, not Aladdin’s.

A sheet of green light flashed overhead and I glanced up. The sky crawled with unnatural illumination, as if this were not the neighborhood park, but some kind of nightmare instead.

"How did it go, Blackbird?" asked Hardcase behind me.

"I projected my thoughts to Gus. I was trying to make him think that I was here alone and would make an easy target.” Taking a deep breath, I added, "Be alert and ready, everyone."

Suddenly, a mental challenge sounded – one that hit my mind strongly enough to make me lurch.

"Mom! I know you can hear me! I'm going to fix Mantra for wanting to take me to jail!

"And then I'll fix you, too!”

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 21