The Wounded World, a story of Mantra, Chapter 16

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson

The Wounded World

Originally written 2006
Posted December 21, 2019

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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. Amen

William Blake

"What, exactly, did War...? What did Strike tell you about what we're doing here?" I asked the ultra.

Hardcase shook his head. "Nothing much -- just that there was some grade-schooler running wild in Canoga Park packing super magic. But I thought that the guy I was fighting looked more like a circus dwarf."

"He's a kid all right," I said with a sigh. "Did you take notice of that story last spring, about something that happened in Canoga Park, something involving a local boy?"

He returned an uncertain glance.

"News about a boy who had been inexplicably changed?" I coaxed.

The blond man frowned. "Come to think of it, I did hear something about a youngster becoming disfigured. His name was, umm, August Blake." His face suddenly lit with understanding. "Oh, God! Your son?"

I nodded.

"But what happened? Those reports didn't say anything about the boy gaining magical powers."

"The magic just came on him suddenly, and I'm not sure how. But strange things are happening all over the world tonight. Whatever's ensorcelled Gus has affected his mind, too. He sees enemies in everyone and everything. He's willing to attack even members of his own family."

Hardcase shook his head. "And with powers like I've seen, he can really vent!"

"We've got to stop him from hurting people and causing damage," I said, "but even the two of us together aren't strong enough to butt head with a power like his. Strike is coming to join us, as you already know. Yrial of the Strangers has also promised to pitch in."

He rubbed his chin. "Yrial, huh? Yeah, I met the Strangers right after they first got their powers. The whole troop of them showed up in my Malibu house, asking for advice on how to become first-rate ultra heroes. I've been asked crazier things, so I took them out for a shakedown mission. We checked out an Aladdin facility at Groom Lake, Nevada. I still regret getting a batch of newbies into Aladdin's gun-sights.”

“Those people never forget and they never forgive,” I said.

“So you've taken Aladdin on, too?”

“Oh, yes,” I affirmed, “but it's a story that I can't go into.”

He nodded sympathetically. "By the way, where's that excitable fellow that you were with on the Godwheel? The one who wore a high-tech power suit? It seemed like the two of you were more than just friends. Lukasz he was called."

I hoped he didn't see me swallow. "We're not together anymore,” I told Hardcase. But then something made me say more. I had held it bottled up for just too long. “Necromantra came after us right after we returned to Earth.  I beat her off, but not before she'd killed him.” There was more to the story than that, but I didn't want to share it.

“But Necromantra was a disembodied spirit. Did she take over someone else's body after the Godwheel?”

“Yes, and the way she did it made the tragedy doubly bad. It's too painful to talk about.”

He knew better than to push his curiosity further.  “Eden, I'm left without words.”

I needed to change the subject. "'What's I've been hearing about you leaving UltraForce?"

He sighed. “I hated to do it. I was there from the start, you know, building that team up from nothing. We did a lot of great work.  But then people showed up saying, 'We're from the government; we're here to help you.' I was against it, and I told the group so. I argued myself red in the face, but the group couldn't seem to understand that this wasn't our grandfather's national government anymore; it was Deep State.  I found myself alone in my position, so I pulled out until they could come to their senses.”

I grimaced. “I was disappointed myself to hear what they'd done. Outfits like Aladdin begins softly, but they always suck their victims in and turn them into Stormtroopers. They'll regret it, sooner rather than later.”

"You know, Mantra, I could have used you on my side. Why was it that you didn't join the Force when we started up? Magic was something that the UF was badly in need of."

I shook my head. "Prime arrived with his invitation at a time when I was almost ready to get out of the hero business. But I wasn't in that mood for very long. I've done things I'm sorry for; having the ability to help people lets me make up for some of it."

"Well, maybe you can get a little moral support if you join the Paladins."

"The Paladins?"

"That's a working title for the new ultra-team that Strike and I are talking about. Choice suggested the name."

I knew that “Choice” was his super-heroine girl friend.  She was a multifaceted ultra with a shadowy and rather complex past.

"I'll have to give all my attention to my family for the time being,” I explained.  “Your offer interests me, but until I can get my life into better order, I'm locked out from any long-term commitments." Offhandedly, I added the question, “How is it that Choice didn't come with you tonight?"

Concern flicker in the man's eyes. "She shouldn't be overexerting herself -- especially not now."

I sensed that some subtext was hiding behind that comment, but didn't feel like prying. "I'm grateful for whatever help you'll be able to lend," I told him. “I'm sorry we haven't had the chance over the last couple years to become better friends.”

“Maybe that will change,” Hardcase said, then glancing back at the smoldering schoolhouse. "So, I take it that your boy suddenly got ultra powers and decided to burn down Canoga Park Elementary. That's a mean payback for getting too much homework!"

The joke fell flat with me. “Before that, he tried to kill me.”

The world's most famous ultra hero turned about, looking surprised.  “Why?”

"I'd confined him to his room for misbehaving."

"You're joking."

"My whole life would be a joke, except that it's so -- gut-wrenching." I took a deep breath and tried to brace up. “I should check in with Strike and Yrial. By the way, Hardcase, did you notice that there was an Aladdin squad at the school?"

He blinked. "No, I didn't. It seems like those guys alway turn up when you least expect them."

"They're with a new leader called Wrath."

His brows knit. "I've heard that name before."

"The name is being recycled. This is a different person."

"If he's Aladdin-issue, he can't be trusted."

"Probably true," I replied, “but I've seen him do a decent act or two.”

“Well then, I'll try to avoid taking him out, if I can.”

“Fine,” I said.  “But right now I've got to be doing some mind-to-mind communication."

He looked on curiously as went off a little distance. I touched my fingertips to my temples and projected my thoughts: "Mantra here, Strike. Whereabouts are you?"

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

"Mantra, I had to swing into one of my local hidey holes to pick up some equipment. By the way, Hardcase will probably be showing up soon."

"He already has. He's standing here beside me now. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Normally, I could do plenty with a straight line like that, Mantra, but it's no time for jokes. Where should I meet you guys?"

"Runnymede Park. That's several blocks east of my house. We'll be waiting for you. If our plans change, I'll give you another buzz."
 
"Okay, Strike off."

Immediately afterwards, I sent out another probe, this one aimed at Yrial's mind. Quite quickly, I felt the contact.
 
"Mantra, I was just about to get in touch with you," the she-ultra responded. "I am somewhere north of of you, in what I believe is called Thousand Oaks. I wasn't able to reach Shadowmage."

“I hope it isn't because Shadowmage has gone back to the Godwheel.”

“Shadowmage?” echoed Tom Hawke.  “Strike told me that you were going to get into touch with her. She shouldn't be so hard to reach. I spoke to the young lady just last month.”

“Where is she?” I asked.

“She was in Arizona.  Lela Cho, the ex-captain of the Solutions team, gave me her number. I can dial it up for you.”

“Please do. Neither Yrial nor I have been able to connect with her telepathically – and that's worrisome because she's highly psychic. You should definitely give her a call, even if it is just to make sure that she's not in any trouble,” I said. 

Big man drew out his phone and I continued resumed my conversation with Yrial.  "We've gotten an unexpected lead on Aera's last whereabouts, Yrial.  We'll handle that. But for now, I'm glad you're almost here. Try to get a fix on my magical feed," I said. "It'll guide you to us like a beacon. Then we'll rendezvous with Strike."
 
"The mercenary for hire?"

"He's got a checkered rep, I know, but Strike is probably the best friend I have." I hoped I was right about that. This wasn't my world anymore and Tark was no longer the same man I knew. Even so, I was depending heavily on this version of Warstrike to help me bring Gus back from the brink. 

#

“It's strange,” Hardcase spoke up behind me, his cellphone gripped in one hand.  “I couldn't get a ring from the other end.  I called Lela right away to ask what she knew. She didn't know what the problem was, but went ahead and called Shadowmage while I waited.  She came right back to say that Aera isn't even answering on the special linkup that the Solution members have.”

“Well, this is a crazy night and a lot of people have been hurt.  Some have even been wiped out of the memory of man.  Like Contrary,” I added.

“Who?”

I saw what was an earnest question in his looks. “Ah, that's someone I know, but it's too complex to go into now.”  Incredible!  Hardcase and Contrary had both been founding members in UltraForce and had been serving together for a year!

“If someone's memory has been wiped out, how do you still remember them, Mantra?”

“I'll be glad to tell you later.  But right now we have to focus on saving Gus from himself.” 

He sighed and nodded. “I've got a bad feeling about Aera going  incommunicado,” he said.  “When we're done here, I should try to find her.  I'm pretty sure that Lela will be willing to lend a hand.”

“I hope so,” I said.  

Yrial arrived before Strike did. The magic-wielding Stranger looked just as I remembered, except that her ethnically-inspired costume was now a basic green color instead of violet. Tastes differed between universes, it seemed. It was hard not to get the willies from those rosy, pupil-less eyes of hers. They gave her otherwise comely face a demonic cast. I wondered whether this peculiarity was common amongst her tribe, or if it was unique to Yrial herself. At least by reputation, the ultra was not evil, though I knew her to be a practitioner of death-sorcery. I certainly wasn't at ease around death-sorcery. It had taken too much from me.

Without any more conversation, I led my two companions across Topanga Canyon Boulevard, widely avoiding the smoldering schoolhouse where there were still many firemen and police on duty. We were mostly concerned about being sighted by the highly dangerous Aladdin team. 
 

#

Yrial and I flew while Hardcase kept up by casually leaping more than a block at a time. We quickly intersected with Sherman Way, and this we followed to Runnymede Park.

"Even if we can temporarily subdue a sorcerer of such power," I addressed to my companions, "does anyone know how to control the boy without making him suffer too much?"

This question seemed to resonate poignantly with Yrial. "We are fortunate, Mantra. I was recently forced to control a loved one who had become an enemy. Do you remember Atom Bob?"

"Of course. Did he ever come back from his sabbatical?”

Indian woman mirrored sorrow. "There was no sabbatical; the Strangers imprisoned him. Evil had taken possession of Bob. He had become the bitter enemy of the rest of us."

"How did you subdue someone as powerful as him?"

"I placed him into a magical coma. Then we conveyed him to a remote European clinic where the doctors have had experience with supernatural problems. They have been committed to expunging his demons, but thus far they have reported only failure."

I shook my head. "What you say sounds a lot like what's happened to the boy we're looking for. If the coma spell becomes necessary, is it teachable? Or would you be willing to perform it?"

"Please allow me to do it, Mantra. My race has already been cursed by black sorcery and I would urge you not to follow after us. In centuries, we have not found our way back to the light.

I sensed her pain. Even Archimage, though he was at heart an S.O.B., had avoided using the necrotic arts, despite every temptation. Except for Yrial, all the necromancers I've met had been evil. I'd supposed that they'd gone into dark sorcery by choice, but having met the Amerind princess, I couldn't be sure of that.

"I would be willing to sacrifice myself, if it would make this terrible thing right!" I told her frankly.

“Do not attempt to do good by evil means, Mantra. That was the mistake that ruined my own people.” Then Yrial looked at me with heightened interest. "Why do you care so much about this unfortunate boy?"

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

She touched my arm lightly. “So do you,” she said.

Hearing an engine roar, I looked back. Some kind of custom-job was tearing up the turf of Runnymede Park. When the high-octane monster skidded to a halt under the lamplight, I could recognize it for a large, souped-up motorcycle. But the figure in the saddle didn't look like the man we'd been expecting -- or, more precisely, the one that I had been expecting.

He was of the same size and build as my friend Warstrike – not much smaller than Hardcase himself -- but I'd never seen him wearing that costume before. This edition of Tark retained his red-blond hair and showed a taste for Spandex, but under his long, green, unbuttoned coat I saw red-colored chest-and-shoulder armor. He was also masked, his eyes concealed by means of two-way lenses. I would have given him a hard time for wearing a fashion atrocity, but I found a cold, hard lump where my levity should have been. Actually, I appreciated that this version of Warstrike looked so unfamiliar. I needed to be cautious in dealing with the man – at least until I knew for certain that he was a true friend.

Strike dismounted; my two other companions greeted him, correctly, if not effusively. Tark apparently didn't know Yrial at all, and his acquaintance with Hardcase appeared businesslike. After brief amenities, the masked vigilante asked me to fill him in on what had been going on.

"Gus has already tried to burn down his own school," I told him. "When I tested his strength earlier, I couldn't stand up to him at all. Even though the boy has had no combat training, his instincts for defending himself are incredible."

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

I gave a weary nod. "That depends. Strike, what did you bring?"

"Based on our short talk earlier, I've rustled up a cannister of knockout-gas and some other gadgets that my man Gizmo designed a while ago."

“Designed for what end?”

“To help me bring ultra-powered bad guys back alive -- instead doing what comes naturally."

I winced at this blunt jibe, imagining Gus's body tied to the fender of that monster cycle. But I didn't think the man was speaking in deliberate bad taste. That was just the blunt, bluff way that Brandon Tark talked when among friends -- unfortunately.

Strike gave us a run-down on the other equipment he'd brought. It seemed harsh and makeshift by the standards of Aladdin's ultra-subduing equipment, but they were all we had to work with. "Good," I replied with more affirmation than I felt. "We can pick a spot and make this park our battlefield. Here's my plan...." 

#

A few minutes later, with everyone in their place, I was ready to send out a telepathic call -- this time to myself.

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

I answered my own question: "I do hear you, ma'am. But how can I be hearing you inside my head?"

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

"You're the famous ultra?! Thank you for helping my children so much! I've heard all about the wonderful things you can do! If anyone can possibly help us, it will 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 to his family before the police catch him and put him in jail."

"You can count on us," I responded. "But what did you do to make him so angry?"

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

"A slap? Mrs. Blake, that was a mistake. A parent should be much more severe when it comes to childish misbehavior."

"I didn't want to be hard on him. Gus had always been a good son, until this terrible thing happened."

"Spare the rod, spoil the child," I told my alter ego. "Because of what he's done, Gus must now spend many years in reform school. Otherwise, he will just get worse and worse, harming people and stealing things."

"Reform school? That would be terrible! Wouldn't it be enough punishment if I have him take the garbage out whenever the basket gets full?”

"Well, yes, I suppose that could be sufficient rehabilitation. It is my instinct to always be firm with a villain, but we must all try to remember that Gus is a first-time offender. But that may change if he puts any more people in danger.  Here's what we'll do. The mighty Hardcase and I shall find your missing son and return him to you safely. It is important that we locate him before he learns that we're tracking him, because that way he could take us by surprise. After we return him home, you'll have to be very strict parent if he's ever going to become good enough to be invited to join UltraForce one day."

"I hope that can happen. But where are you, Mantra?"

"Hardcase and I are at Runnymede Park, quite close to your own home. We sensed strong magic somewhere near it, but it turned out to be no more than an ultra-powered robber whom we easily subdued. But don't worry, Mrs. Blake; we always get our man. No super-villain has ever escaped justice for very long. But I promise that if Gus surrenders peacefully, we will treat him well. The next time you see us, Mrs. Blake, we will have your son with us."

"That would be wonderful, Mantra. I so love him. I don't think he's eaten yet tonight and I want to fix him something nice for supper."

"You do that, Mrs. Blake.  Mantra out!" 

The charade was over. Gus knew where we were, and I'd given him a motive to come to us as soon as possible. I wasn't looking forward to the coming fight, but for the boy's own sake I had to be up for it.

A green flash overhead drew my attention upward.  The sky still crawled with unnatural illumination, making the night seem very unreal.

"How did it go, Mantra?"

I looked back at Hardcase. "I projected my thoughts directly at Gus, trying to make it seem like I was talking with his mother. I wanted to make the boy angry enough to stop hiding and come here looking for us, where we'll be ready for him."

I looked around. Strike and Yrial had already concealed themselves, so that Gus wouldn't know that we had reinforcements.  "Be alert and ready, everyone," I whispered.

Only a minute later, I heard a mental declaration – one that came with such strength that it made me lurch.

"Mom! I know you can hear me! I'm going to fix Mantra for wanting to be mean to me!
 
"And then I'll fix you, too!”


TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 17