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Chapter Text

On the east corner of Festive Road there was an unassuming costume shop. The owner of the shop was a round, jolly man who wore a fez. He was very good at making customers feel at ease, perhaps the best in the whole of London. However, on this particular day he had encountered a problematic customer. In addition to having a wide variety in costumes, he was a capable tailor and was able to make custom orders. He was also used to the occasional rowdy customer. His customer was not only rowdy and after a very particular custom order, he was also enormous and tremendously strong. Perhaps, however, the shop-owner’s latest creation would be satisfactory?

The customer inspected the creation with a keen eye and surprising delicacy for a man of his size. He appraised every inch, gently probing to test the material’s tensile strength. He pondered for quite some time, and the shop-owner became increasingly anxious that his customer was about to explode with anger again. To his immense relief, however, the latest creation met with approval.

“Strength; elastic and resilient. Material; soft and gentle against skin. Size; perfect for varying needs.”

The shop-owner breathed a small sigh of relief. He was suddenly made to jump again when the customer suddenly yelled “Colour GAUCHE and UNFLATTERING!”

“The aquamarine does not meet with your approval?” said the shop-owner, recovering his pose, “Perhaps a navy blue?”

The customer appeared to consider this, and then nodded. The shop-owner felt an inner triumph at navigating this minefield of a consumer. A few minutes passed and a navy blue version of the same item was brought out to his now satisfied customer. Crisp pound notes were placed upon the cashier’s desk, and the customer departed with a slight thud from his heavy footsteps.

At that moment, a suited man in a bowler hat emerged from the shop’s changing rooms.

“What on earth was all that racket about?” asked the man.

“Oh hello William, just a particularly... tricky customer.”

The alleged William peered out of the shop door down the street, with a look of both concern and curiosity.

“Tricky barely seems to cover it... he seems to have rather a lot of anger issues. And some styling issues, but that’s more about personal taste than anything.”

“Oh he’s just eccentric!” said the shop-owner amicably, “He’s certainly rather boisterous, but I’m sure that it’s all show.”

Just as the shop-owner finished that sentence, a series of bellows came from outside.

“NO THROW EGG! HAIR DIFFICULT TO CLEAN, MORNING ROUTINE HIGHLY COMPLEX! HULK SMASH!” These bellows were then followed by a series of heavy impacts on metal, and metallic shearing. As both the alleged William and the shop-owner stared outside in confusion, a solitary car tyre rolled past the front door of the shop before coming to a stop.

“On second thought William, perhaps you are right. The man sounds like he needs an outlet for such aggression, perhaps you could take him on an adventure with you?” said the shop-owner, absent mindedly chewing on a midget gem.

“I think you’re quite right there! I’ll find a way to calm the man down, or my name isn’t Mr Benn!” said Mr Benn, before straightening his bowler hat and striding confidently out of the shop door.

Chapter Text

Mr Benn quickly caught up to the hulking, muscular figure known as the Hulk. He could now see that, in addition to being powerfully built, the Hulk had quite distinctively green skin. This was one of the least unusual things Mr Benn had seen, and it did not linger in his mind.

“Excuse me, am I speaking to the Hulk?” said Mr Benn cheerfully.

The Hulk turned around and looked down at Mr Benn.
“Hulk here, state business with Hulk!” replied the Hulk in a booming voice.

“Well Hulk, I’m here to invite you on an adventure!” replied Mr Benn.

The Hulk pondered for a second, and then laughed out loud.
“Puny human has adventures? Polishing shoes not adventure.”

“I mean real adventures. Going to the moon, to the old West, to prehistoric times. The kind of thing to get the blood rushing! I’ve been to all sorts of times and places, when I say adventure I’m not kidding around Hulk!” replied Mr Benn, with a smile.

“Give Hulk example of typical adventure...” said the Hulk with a hint of curiosity.

In an instant, the pair were suddenly standing in desert of dark red sand, and in front of them was a moon far larger than that of the planet Earth.

“Planet is unfamiliar.” said Hulk, glancing around.

“This is the planet Rumbaba Prime, my friend!” said Mr Benn, “Breathe in that air! It smells like incense mixed with cherries doesn’t it? This was always one of my favourite places to visit.”

Just as Mr Benn finished the sentence, the sand underneath them began to shake, and then it flew everywhere around their faces. This was immediately followed by a brief but deafening roar, and then the sand subsided. As the pair looked above, a squadron of some kind of spacecraft flew across the desert, having just passed the unlikely pair. Mr Benn then unpacked his suitcase, and placed a series of metallic rings around his limbs and torso with every sign of nonchalance.

“Explain!” said Hulk with a mixture of anger and surprise in his voice.

“This planet is settled by the Punk Buddhists of the 43rd century AD. They’re both extremely precise and extraordinarily hedonistic, a winning combination! We, Hulk, are assisting them in repelling an attack on their colony here. Those spacecraft that flew overhead belong to the Space Sharks, and it is the Space Sharks we must defeat!” replied Mr Benn, who clicked the last metallic ring into place around his neck.

“Space Sharks variety of space bandits? Design of craft suggest aggressive, sapient humanoid species.”

“Right on all counts except the last, my friend. The Space Sharks are quite literally sharks that live in space. They feed on the helpless or unprepared. Today they will find the Rumbaba colony more than prepared.” said Mr Benn with a look of steely determination on his face. As he completed the sentence, all of the rings on his body glowed a neon azure, and an armoured battle suit suddenly encased Mr Benn in a protective shell. Mr Benn cracked the suit’s neck and knuckles, before withdrawing a large plasma rifle from a recess. Activating it, the rifle made a constant humming noise almost like a purr but with more soprano tones.

“Hulk, are you ready to help the Punk Buddhists of Rumbaba Prime defeat the Space Sharks?” said Mr Benn.

“This Hulk’s idea of adventure! Hulk accept offer!” said the Hulk with an expression of utter glee. He loosened his limbs for a couple of seconds before screaming at the top of his lungs, enough to make the sand beneath them shake once more, “HULK SMASH!”

Chapter Text

Mr Benn pointed towards a distant cityscape on the horizon, where explosions were visible through the shimmering heat of the alien desert. Hulk instantly leapt towards the city, crossing more than a kilometre with every mighty bound. He was followed by Mr Benn, who had a jetpack built into his armoured suit that moved him at incredible speeds. Within moments, the battle was upon them. Jagged, sleek and aggressive looking spacecraft were darting all over the magnificent city. Now and again one would come crashing to the ground, struck by laser, missile or bullet, but yet more continued to appear. It was clear that the Punk Buddhists were in severe trouble.

Mr Benn began to take precise shots with his plasma rifle, concentrating on larger ships that were attempting to make off with plunder from the city. This drew the attention of large numbers of the smaller attack ships, who made towards Mr Benn with vicious intent. In an instant, a green blur cut a swathe through them as the Hulk set to work. As the two companions began to cause ever more damage to the Space Sharks, they drew yet more attention from the vicious raiders who began to concentrate all their resources to the task of destroying them. As the numbers grew, Mr Benn pressed a button on his plasma rifle. Parts shifted across one another, and previous unseen surfaces became visible. Rather than the precise bolts of plasma he had been shooting, Mr Benn was now using a rapid fire mode. At the same time, several small launchers became visible on his armour and they began to launch veritable clouds of missiles and decoys into the air. This display of firepower, combined with the raw power of the Hulk, was enough to keep the hordes contained for some time. However, this came to an end when a brilliant orange bolt hit the Hulk on the shoulder and managed to actually wound him.

Mr Benn ran to the Hulk, activating a shield that surrounded both of them in an impenetrable bubble.

“Are you alright Hulk?” said Mr Benn with some concern.

“Hulk fine, healing factor will repair damage!” said the Hulk.

“Do you see that large ship over there? That’s the flagship of the Space Shark fleet, led by the dreaded Captain Hammerhead. That’s why they have weapons capable of hurting you. If we destroy it, then the day is ours. But his technology is powerful and even you will not be able to penetrate the hull of that vessel. And this shield is about to run out of power...” said Mr Benn with a look of concern for the first time since the adventure began.

Hulk looked downcast for a second, but then a flash of inspiration occurred.

“Puny Hammerhead ship still run on electricity?”

“Yes, but if you’re thinking what I think you are then that won’t work while his shields are still up.”

“Hulk will deal with shields. Hulk has plan!”

A few seconds more conferring happened. At the very moment that Mr Benn’s shield failed, the Hulk charged straight at the Space Shark flagship. He impacted against the energy shield of the ship, and rebounded straight off to a painful landing on the ground. However, the stress of handling that much force temporarily shorted out the shields completely. And following right after that was a barrage of EMP missiles that Mr Benn had launched at the Space Sharks. Without the shields, the missiles all directly hit the hull. Being enough to stop the Hulk, the armour was easily able to withstand the impact of a few puny missiles. But the EMP missiles then shorted out every single electronic system on the flagship, including the various ‘cheats’ employed to stop gravity dragging it straight down. Gravity being a harsh mistress, the flagship indeed fell straight down. With a mighty crash and the sound of crumpling metal, the once proud flagship of Captain Hammerhead was laid waste upon the deep red sands of Rumbaba Prime. The remaining Space shark ships made themselves scarce, returning to whatever savage depths of space they had come from.

The two heroes of the hour turned to one another, their work done.

“So, how do you find my lifestyle?” asked Mr Benn, de-activating his armoured suit.

“Hulk Smash. Hulk chased. Hulk Feared. Basic pattern of lifestyle. Benn lifestyle different. High adventure. Capers. Respect. Perhaps meaningful effect possible in cruel universe.”

“Well said Hulk. And do you feel a little more relaxed?”

“Sight of adversaries fleeing into deep space satisfying. Feel stress melting away.” Hulk finished his sentence, and then stretched outwards with a yawn.

“Excellent!” said Mr Benn, briefly taking off his bowler hat and fanning himself with it. He paused for a moment, and then turned to the Hulk once again. “Care for another?”

Hulk grinned like a lunatic, and shouted at the top of his voice “ADVENTURE!”

Chapter Text

“Village pretty!” said the Hulk appreciatively, walking down a cobbled street.

“I’m glad you think so!” replied Mr Benn, who was wearing a top hat in place of his usual bowler today. “I have a lot of good friends here,” he continued, “It’s a little sleepy for an adventure, but I have it on good faith that there is an ancient city buried underneath it! Once we reach the old coal mine at the edge of town, we’ll head down and see what there is to find.”

The two continued to walk for some time, going past the post office, an old fashioned sweet shop, a cake shop. This was indeed a sleepy little village, regardless of what treasures and ruins lay buried beneath it. Or so it seemed.,

A wild yelling from behind the pair caused them to turn around. A figure in elaborate 16th century plated armour was running straight at Mr Benn and the Hulk, brandishing a steel blade of particularly fine quality. The scene was set for an unexpected and yet epic battle, until the Hulk decided to casually punch the figure straight in the face.

“Well that was rather sudden!” said Mr Benn, stroking his chin in confusion, “This is not the sort of thing I expect from a sleepy English village!”

The Hulk bent down and examined the now-unconscious assailant.

“Armour ornate, well kept. All steel. Sword steel, sword good steel. Design reminiscent of 16th century Spanish. Hulk confused; Hulk thought Hulk and Benn were in present day?”

“We are Hulk. But this isn’t a costume; the armour and weaponry are all real. This is rather perplexing...”

Just at that moment, a figure strolled over towards them. He was balding, but possessed very bushy black sideburns and a beard. He also wore glasses, along with a very fine red waistcoat under a brown jacket.

“I see you have encountered our Spanish friend gentlemen. I feel I owe you an explanation.” said the man.

“Ah, Hulk this is Mr Platt the clockmaker, my good friend! Mr Platt, this is my recently acquired friend the Hulk.” said Mr Benn.

The Hulk and Mr Platt shook hands amicably.

“Pleased to meet you, and it’s good to see you again Mr Benn. I will now explain to you why you were attacked by a Spaniard in broad daylight.”

“It all began about a year ago. As you know, Trumpton is a rather sleepy little village, but you might also have heard the rumours of an ancient city underneath our very feet! These rumours started at that point, and very soon afterwards we received an unusual visitor. He claimed to be one Captain Ramon, commander of the galleon Esmerelda. We checked, and would you believe there actually was a Spanish galleon parked in the nearby river! How he got it up there I really haven’t a clue. Anyway, he demanded that he be given access to the ancient city beneath the village, and all of its treasures. Naturally we refused, and so he declared war on the entire village. Raiders have been attacking the village ever since, on and off.”

Mr Benn tutted loudly.

“How very inconsiderate. Out of interest, you’ve been holding out a year; who has been protecting you?”

Mr Platt took his glasses off, wiped them a little with a cloth and put them back on, before replying.

“The firecrew, led by Captain Flack of course!”

To the Hulk’s astonishment, Mr Benn looked genuinely flabberghasted at something.

“Firecrew? Captain Flack? The Firecrew who never even get to put out fires? The Captain Flack who spent most of his career angrily twitching his moustache?” Mr Benn looked around desperately before asking “How??”

“Well, you see the...”

Mr Platt’s explanation was interrupted by the sound of cannon fire in the near distance.

“Excuse me gentlemen, but I believe the Spanish are attacking again. I’ll just be in my shop.” said Mr Platt, walking casually back along the street.

The Hulk and Mr Benn immediately ran towards the source of the cannon fire, and this day’s adventure began in earnest.

Chapter Text

At the very outskirts of Trumpton, Mr Benn and the Hulk found that pitched battle had erupted. A small regiment of Spanish soldiers were marching on the village, armed with sword and muskets. Holding them off were a few local residents, who had proven surprisingly tenacious. Mrs Cobbit with her rich brown hair, yellow shirt and pretty dress was throwing grenades at the Spanish, and occasionally taking pot-shots with a .357 Magnum. Mr Troop in his prim and proper clerk’s uniform was using a mounted machine gun to pin down the advancing Spanish troops, supported by Chippy Minton and his son in their aprons wielding pikes against any Spaniards who managed to come close to Mr Troop’s position. Despite all of this, it was clear that the Spanish would eventually overwhelm the defenders with sheer numbers.

Into the fracas charged Mr Benn and the Hulk. Mr Benn punched an isolated Spaniard straight in the jaw, knocking the soldier out. Mr Benn then took up a sword, and a pistol. Carefully aiming, he shot the pistol with a loud crack before engaging a passing group of soldiers with his newly acquired sword. At the same time, the Hulk was causing utter chaos, and had completely disrupted the cohesion of the Spanish advance. He was knocking soldiers flying left and right. His only problem was that the old fashioned gunpowder of the Spanish muskets was causing a smog to form around the battlefield, and he was finding it difficult to see what he was doing.

Suddenly, eight figures appeared at the edge of the village, all wearing old fashioned firefighter uniforms. This was the fabled Trumpton Fire Brigade, led by the ageing Captain Flack. Mr Benn looked around, having disarmed and knocked out another two Spaniards. He was curious as to what the Fire Brigade had in store for the Spaniards. Then the eight firefighters began to recite some kind of oath.

“In brightest day, in smoggiest night, no bugger shall escape my sight, let those who cause an awful fright, beware my power, the Trumpton Light!”

On each figure’s hand, a ring glowed brick red. The firefighter uniforms of each figure were instantly replaced with very dynamic looking uniforms of red and black. A beam of light came out of each ring, and at their meeting point a hard light construct began to form. Before Mr Benn’s very eyes, an enormous black pudding made out of light appeared, and in an instant began smacking the various Spaniards aside left and right. With a display of their awful power, it seemed the Trumpton Fire Brigade would drive the Spaniards away. But as the smog cleared and the debris settled, one lone Spaniard defiantly stood unharmed in the midst of it all.

The figure was a tall man, with a rather ornate hat of cunning construction that indicated he was a Captain of a Spanish ship. Like the other soldiers he wore steel armour, but his was even more ornate and was inlaid with strips of gold on the chestplate.

The man laughed harshly, before speaking.

“We meet again Trumpton Fire Brigade! When last we met, you swept me aside as though I was nothing, and I must say that your power is very impressive! But after much research, I have finally found your weakness! Your Trumpton rings are unable to affect or harm objects of gold, and with my golden chestplate you cannot do anything to harm me.”

The Fire Brigade conferred for a moment before unleashing a barrage of hard light constructs on the Spaniard. Shapes of chelsea buns, park litter bins and letterboxes were visible in the almost constant haze of brick red that assaulted the Spanish Captain. But none left so much as a scratch upon him.

“Bugger me lads, he wasn’t lying! We can’t lay a single scratch on ‘im!” said one of the Pugh twins.

The Fire Brigade hastily conferred before turning to Mr Benn and the Hulk, who had witnessed everything.

“Excuse me, but would either of you like to give us a hand with this upstart?” said Captain Flack, who scratched his moustache.

The Hulk turned to Mr Benn and asked “Hulk Smash?”

“You want to fight him? Any particular reason?” asked Mr Benn.

“Hulk no like puny Spaniards.” replied the Hulk with a beastial snort.

“All Spaniards, or just these ones?”

“Conquistadors responsible for disease and destruction. Many cultural treasures lost for all time. Hulk also disapprove of slave based economy. Puny conquistadors represent both. Hulk Smash edifice of colonial system!” said Hulk loudly, cracking his knuckles.

“In the which case, take this!” said Mr Benn, throwing his acquired sword to the Hulk, who caught it out of the air. “Do you know how to use a sword?” asked Mr Benn.

“Hulk Smash.” said the Hulk impassively, before knuckling over to the lone Spaniard.

“Excellent, one of you is brave enough to face Captain Ramon in open battle!” said the eponymous Captain Ramon, throwing off his cape and withdrawing his sword from his side.

The Hulk assumed the initial dueling position, gracefully weighting his body and holding the sword pointed at the Spanish captain. Captain Ramon did the same. The two fighters remained like this for a moment, each examining the other for strengths and weaknesses. Captain Ramon looked at the green, gamma-mutated figure before him and clearly approved because he nodded in respect, before shouting “Enguarde!” and thrusting towards the Hulk. Hulk’s blade met the Captain’s. The duel was underway.

Chapter Text

The two figures were locked on a duel to the death. Their swords clashed time after time, and the harsh sounds of steel on steel echoed around the landscape. The Hulk had by far the greater physical strength, but Captain Ramon’s experience with dueling was almost unmatched. Every time it seemed the Hulk would be able to simply overpower Captain Ramon with raw strength, Captain Ramon would simply have moved out of the way. But the Hulk’s physical strength meant that Captain Ramon was unable to disarm him. With their inability to gain a physical advantage, the two fighters attempted to resort to taunts to demoralise their opponent.

“Hulk see better swordplay from Errol Flynn!”

“That’s rich coming from a clumsy veridian oaf, did you learn how to swordfight from an Uwe Boll movie?”

“Hulk heard better quips from Rodney Dangerfield!”

“You’ve got all the depth of a Dan Brown character!”

“Puny Spaniard should know, is target audience!”

“And who are your target audience? Who roots for you, obese leprechauns? The Grinch? Hagrid?”

“Hulk demographic more relevant than puny Spaniard, unironic Imperialism out of vogue in modern discourse!”

“You take that back!”

The two traded an insult for almost every blow, but still neither one could gain an advantage. The only option left, therefore, was to cheat. Hulk dropped his sword and slammed down on the ground underneath, causing the ground to shift under everyone’s feet. He had been aiming to knock Captain Ramon off-balance, but instead the ground suddenly gave way beneath the pair’s feet. A large hole had opened up, and both figures fell in. The Trumptonians and Mr Benn quickly ran to the edge, and in the dark depths saw hints of ancient stone architecture.

“Well bugger me,” exclaimed the other Pugh brother, “They’ve gone and found t’ancient city underneath Trumpton!”

“They have indeed,” said Mr Benn, picking up the sword that the Hulk had thrown on the ground, “But now I need to go and find Hulk!”

In an instant, Mr Benn began to abseil down the crater and into chthonic ruins of untold age and unknown origin. Soon he was lost to the sight of the Trumptonians, beyond earshot, and once again on his own.

Mr Benn was descending down a cavernous shaft, surrounded by semi-ruined ancient architecture. The funk of untold centuries filled his nostrils, a charnelous smell that he could not ignore, only adjust to. The pit was on a slight diagonal, with remnants of sheer stairs on one side that could only have been used by creatures of hideous strength or blasphemous form. The ruins were of decadent stone construction, hewed from nameless stones by unmentionable masons. As Mr Benn became surrounded by almost total darkness, fragments of treasured lore from Alhazred the Mad Arab, Thomas Moore and Raymond Chandler all sprang to mind. Forbidden palaces, ruined cities of ugsome creatures, abandoned warehouses with dripping roofs. He reached the bottom of the great pit, and found himself on the edge of an enormous octangular chamber, though he could see almost nothing within it or its vast size. The floor hinted at varied and deeply embossed designs of wicked elaboration, all of which had a faintly squamous quality to it. Near to where the great shaft had opened out into the chamber, a large impact crater was dimly visible and traceable by touch, and Mr Benn knew that this had been where the Hulk had landed.

As Mr Benn discovered this, the room was suddenly lit from an unknown and pallid source. At the very edges of the chamber, whose vast size was now clear to Mr Benn,  there were several entrances of enormous size, guarded by the statues of stygian monstrosities. But what held Mr Benn’s attention was the scene in the centre of the abnormal hall. Both Captain Ramon and the Hulk were entrapped in cages, each one shaped in the likeness of a ribcage of deeply unnatural proportions. The depths of each cage had an unnatural stillness, as though the very atoms of their prisoners had been had been suspended from motion. Between both cages stood the silhouette of a tall, cloaked, and effulgent figure. It was the source of the furtive light in the chamber, and Mr Benn knew that this would be his adversary.

“ Speak thy name .” said the figure. Mr Benn felt white hot needles on his back at the sound of that daemoniac voice.

“William Benn.” replied Mr Benn.

“ Thou shouldst not have come hither, William Benn. The tellurian depths of this world are my haven, while I wait for the stars to be right again. And when that comes, the windswept and sunscarred surface of this world shall be my basilica once more. I stalked the wilds of this planet when the Second Ones were still young and weak, and taught them to fear darkness. I slaked my thirst upon their souls with impunity, they whose firmament was of eldritch strength. What art thou besides them but a human, and what is humanity but a troop of apes howling in fear at the dread night .”

There was unbroken, unnatural silence for a moment, and then Mr Benn laughed.

“Do you honestly believe that you are the first eldritch horror of the universe that I have confronted, or the most impressive among them? On the list of the Earth’s foul terrors you barely register. What art thou, monster, compared to the grim majesty of the Pacific Comptroller, and what was he compared to the Papillian Storm of Despair? I declare that you have no power over me! You are nothing to me! I have seen the Beast with Moons for Eyes, I have passed through the unknowable mazes outside of this universe, I have listened to every Nickleback song that was ever made.”

The figure recoiled.

“ Dare not to speak of the Nickel Men and their Howls in my domain .”

Mr Benn continued to speak.

“Did you ever once stop to consider the unfathomable madness of the human mind? I am armed with the deranged mind that is my human birthright, and I am alloyed with the endless knowledge of civilizations across time and space. Release your captives.”

The figure made no sound, and then leapt at Mr Benn with unnatural speed. He had enough time to see the creature in more detail- the torso that looked like worms coffined in metal, the many hollow eyes, the hideous plasticity of the flesh. But he threw himself at the soul-devouring entity with not a single sign of fear, daring it to try to consume him. Mr Benn felt it lunge for his soul. But the two rebounded off one another, and while the creature was stunned Mr Benn instead entered into its soul. He opened up every single memory of Nickelback music he had at the same time. The effect was overwhelming; the creature screamed and then simply dissolved into the air. All save for a single silver coin which dropped to the floor. Mr Benn then plucked the coin up, and slipped it into a pocket.

Mr Benn turned, and saw that the cages containing Captain Ramon and the Hulk had dissolved as well. As though no time had passed at all, they resumed their duel.

“Look how obese you are my putrid green friend, you left a huge crater in the floor!”

“Hulk well proportioned, doesn’t have Habsburg chin like puny Spaniard!”

As the duel began in earnest once more, Mr Benn quietly smiled to himself, before running into the fight to intervene.

Chapter Text

Mr Benn and the Hulk had just visited the ancient city of Persepolis. They were now outside the city, having left via the main road when they spotted a procession approaching the city.

“Who do you suppose that is?” asked Mr Benn, before biting into a dwarf apple.

“Hulk not know. Hulk go find out!” said the Hulk, leaping towards to procession, causing Mr Benn to spit out the bite of apple he had just taken.

The Hulk landed next to the procession and yelled at the top of his voice.

“HULK WANTS TO KNOW WHO PEOPLE ARE!”

The sound echoed for miles around, but was met with silence. The entire procession had fainted from the shock of the Hulk’s enormous shout. The centre of the procession was an enormous litter, and inside Hulk found a robed figure in opulent clothing.

“Hulk find Persian Emperor!” said the Hulk cheerfully, as though nothing had happened.

Mr Benn walked over, and scratched his chin.

“I think we’d better wake him up! They’ll miss him at the city if he’s out here too long.”

Mr Benn clicked his fingers in front of the Emperor’s face. There was no response. Mr Benn shook the Emperor by his shoulders. Still no response. Mr Benn took out smelling salts and held them under the Emperor’s nose, and the Emperor finally awoke.

The Persian Emperor, King of Kings and head of the greatest state in the world, looked at the enormous green figure in front of him, and spoke words that the Hulk could not understand.

“What Persian Emperor say?” said the Hulk.

“He’s speaking in Old Persian. He asked where he was, who you are, and who he is...” replied Mr Benn.

“Persian Emperor lost memory?” asked Hulk, looking a little ashamed.

“This is a bit of a problem Hulk. I think I have a solution, but it may not work.”

“Hulk must repair damage. Hulk will accept Benn’s solution.” said the Hulk with solemn determination.

About 5 minutes later, Mr Benn had roused all of the Emperor’s men. They picked up the Emperor’s litter once more, and set off towards the city of Persepolis. The men struggled with the litter much more than previously, as though it was much heavier than before. As Mr Benn walked alongside the litter, from inside the tent came a disgruntled noise.

“Hulk not want to be Persian Emperor,” said the Hulk sotto voce, “Hulk good at smashing not leading.”

“You’ll be fine! Your disguise is foolproof. I bet the Emperor’s own mother wouldn’t be able to tell you apart from her real son,” whispered Mr Benn back, “Now quiet down. We’re nearly back in the city.”

The litter came to a halt. It was now at the base of the Great Staircase. Mr Benn and the Hulk had already walked up this staircase in their earlier visit, but now the Hulk returned as a Persian Emperor, or at least disguised as one. The Hulk walked out of the litter, and looked up at the staircase. All of the litter carriers and retainers bowed, including Mr Benn to keep up appearances. The Hulk breathed in deeply, and then walked up the Great Staircase, to the terrace upon which the palaces of Persepolis were built.

Mr Benn was walking behind the Hulk, with the rest of the retainers. He was keeping an eye out for any sign that the Hulk’s cunning disguise had been penetrated, but all were silent and respectful.

The Hulk was now really feeling his role as Persian Emperor, and affected a look of both wisdom and majesty as he approached the ceremonial Palace of Cyrus. From the palace approached an attendant, and Mr Benn tensed up; could being directly spoken to reveal the Hulk as a fraud? The messenger approached the Hulk and opened his mouth, but the Hulk simply raised his palm to say ‘not now’. The attendant respectfully bowed, and Mr Benn allowed himself to breathe again. Until the real Persian King could have his memory restored, it seemed that the Hulk would be able to impersonate him perfectly. Mr Benn reflected on how amazing it was that Persians seemed unable to tell the difference between their own King and a (nearly) eight foot tall muscular green mutant with ceremonial robes on. It was a funny old universe.

Chapter Text

It was a dark and stormy night. The ancient city of Babylon was as filled with long shadows as any of the crime infested places of the world. Unseen by anyone, one of the shadows detached itself from a wall and crept into a temple. From his muscles and his expensive clothes, it was obvious he was a big cheese. Inside the temple, he crept behind an ornate pillar lit only by the dregs of candle light. From behind another pillar another shadow detached. The two goons then started a conversation in Old Persian that went something like this.

“Did you lose the cops?”

“They ain’t give me no trouble.”

“What are the orders from the boss in the palace?”

“We’re to ice the dame, tonight. Get your best Assyrian letter-openers, and then we’re off to the royal palace.”

“So tonight, Roxanne sleeps with the fishes. Let’s blow this joint.”

Just as the two mooks made to leave, there was a sudden flash and one fell dead with a knife in his throat. The other went for the sword at his side, but the new arrival’s arm was too fast and the last of the mugs gasped as a spear pierced his chest.

The mysterious stranger walked over to the two dead gangsters, and threw a chewed toothpick down at their feet. He reached into a pocket, pulled out another, and slipped it into his mouth.

“Sorry boys, but this is my city. And in my city, you don’t get to assassinate members of the royal family. Or my name isn’t William Benn.”

Mr Benn remained for a moment more, and then walked back out the temple.

The next day, Mr Benn walked to his chambers as Master of Ceremonies. The Hulk and himself had kept up their charade for several months now, and the two were thoroughly integrated into the day to day running of the Persian Empire. Mr Benn wielded considerable power, but every single day was having to face off against the ambitious politicians of the Empire. Mr Benn was only at his desk for a few moments when a tall figure with a long beard walked into the room. It was Arvarush, Governor of Babylon. He wore an extremely bright silk robe of pink, purple and inlaid gems, but underneath he was an extremely hard-working and concerned man.

“So, Mr Benn, I take it you nipped the little plot in the bud.”

“I have Arvarush. We’ve only got one more left to deal with...”

“The big cheese himself I presume. How were you planning to handle this?”

“With pomp and ceremony. I’m going to formally accuse him in front of the King.”

“Well, you’re definitely confident I see! I’ve been dealing with Bagoas for a long time, and he’s a tricky man. If I were you, then I’d be a little more cautious.”

“Just you wait and see.”

Bagoas was the devil in plain sight. A member of the King’s court, he had been plotting to replace the Hulk for some time. But Mr Benn would finally rid the Empire of him by confronting him at court, in front of both the ‘Emperor’ and also everyone else.

“Bagoas, eunuch of the Kingdom, I accuse you of murder, conspiring against our King, and of kicking over a dozen puppies! How do you plead?”

“Such an accusation is preposterous,” said Bagoas without the slightest sign of agitation, “the Master of Ceremonies is clearly confused and needs his rest. My King, I ask of you to send Mr Benn away.”

The Hulk pondered for a moment.

“Emperor will hear what Master of Ceremonies has to say.” he said, leaning back in his throne and putting his hand under his chin to show that he was pondering magisterially.

“Thank you my King. I know for a certainty that Bagoas meant to kill your niece, the young princess Roxanne!”

“You have no proof, I dismiss your claims entirely.” said Bagoas impassively.

“Objection! I know that you did, because I found and killed the assassins myself! I have here documents signed by you that grant an enormous sum of money to both of them. And I have ten witnesses who will all swear they overheard you plotting.”

Bagoas finally looked irritated.

“Very well then, Mr Benn, instead I shall have to duel you to prove my innocence!”

Mr Benn pulled out his Spanish sword, because it was a special occasion.

“Die monster! You don’t belong in this world” he cried.

Bagoas pulled out his own sword.

“It was not by my hand that I am once again given cause. I was called here by Persians who wish to pay me tribute.”

Mr Benn raised his sword to strike.

“Tribute!?! You steal men's souls and make them your slaves!”

Bagoas leapt with his own blade, and the duel was begun.

“Perhaps the same could be said of all advisors...”

Mr Benn parried a wild thrust from Bagoas.

“Your words are as empty as your soul! Persia ill needs a savior such as you!”

Bagoas swung again defiantly.

“What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets! But enough talk... Have at you!”

The two continued to trade blows, the clash of swords ringing throughout the enormous and ornate court. Then Mr Benn saw his chance, and stabbed just as Bagoas was going for an overhand swing. The eunuch looked at the blade that was in his chest, sighed, and then slumped to the floor dead. The fight was over, and Bagoas had been definitively proven as guilty by the loss of the duel.

Mr Benn sighed.

“When I entered Babylon in a peaceful manner, I took up my lordly abode in the royal palace amidst rejoicing and happiness. But you Bagoas were a total berk. Good riddance.”

Chapter Text

Mr Benn and the Hulk were both deep in thought. They stood in a great multicoloured tent amongst finely woven fabrics and well carved wooden furniture, and alongside them were the great generals and satraps of the Persian Empire. They had been in conference for over an hour, and now decisions had to be made, decisions that would either make or break the great Persian Empire. Some strange upstart known as Alexander from a former Persian client kingdom had dared invade the Empire, and he seemed to have gained many initial successes.

“So, great king, do you wish to proceed with the plan of cutting off his supply lines with our fleet, encouraging rebellion among the Greeks against him, and then attacking his kingdom of Macedon?” asked one of the satraps.

“Verily we will proceed with this,” said the Hulk in flawless Old Persian, “And we will give you all the support you need. And thus the matter is settled.”

Every one of the armoured or finely clothed generals filed out of the tent apart from Mr Benn, who remained behind. His face was troubled. Meanwhile the Hulk stretched, and yawned.

“Daily responsibilities of Imperial office becoming exhausting, moral ambiguity of decision making draining on soul. Hulk need holiday!”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that my friend,” began Mr Benn, “It’s about the Persian Emperor. You know, the real Emperor.”

Just as Mr Benn began an aide came in.

“Great King, the generals say the army is ready to move out!”

“I will attend presently.” said the Hulk. The messenger bowed and walked back out again. “Can Benn wait to talk to Hulk?”

“Sure.”

A day later the Hulk sat upon the deck of the flagship, witnessing carnage all around him; the Macedonian fleet had been sighted, and battle had been joined. Ships were ramming into one another all around, to the sound of splintering wood. Mr Benn stood beside him, with a concerned look on this face.

“Hulk, might now be a good time to-”

He was cut short by sudden yells from the crew, as a large Macedonian warship had broken through the fleet and was drawing alongside the King’s Flagship.

“Apparently no, it’s not!” said Mr Benn, drawing his sword. The Hulk sat without getting involved in the ensuing fight, somewhat dejectedly. He hadn’t been able to personally smash so much as a garden gnome in weeks, because he took his duties as Persian Emperor seriously and knew that the Emperor should not put himself in harm’s way unnecessarily. Even if that Emperor was 7 and a half feet tall, virtually indestructible, and had biceps the size of small sheep. It was starting to seriously get under his skin. He simply watched as Mr Benn fought off heavily armoured Macedonian soldiers, with more than a little jealousy.

The battle had been won handily, and after the Persian fleet had beached for the night a magnificent banquet had been drawn up. Mr Benn had spent over an hour trying to get anywhere near the Hulk, who was being mobbed by the rest of the great and the good. He was just in the middle of cheering himself up with honeyed chicken and some particularly fine Persian wine when he finally saw an opportunity; the crowd around the Hulk had temporarily dispersed, and who knew how long that might last? Mr Benn, with almost unnatural agility, darted his way through the banqueteers, took the Hulk by the arm, and led him outside the great tent to somewhere private.

“Hulk, we are having this talk right now! It can’t wait any longer!”

“What making Benn so frustrated?”

“I know this might be hard to hear, but we need to leave this time, and restore the real Persian Emperor! It was never meant to last this long, certainly not long enough for Alexander the Great to turn up! I know that you didn’t come with me to hear about temporal mechanics and other boring time travel things, but if we stay here much longer we are going to seriously mess with history! I couldn’t begin to tell you what defeating Alexander the Great would do for Earth’s history! I know that in theory we’ve now already changed history several times, but changing history prior to 614 AD is much more damaging to the fabric of reality because-”

Hulk shushed Mr Benn.

“You had Hulk at ‘leave’. Hulk been wanting to leave for months! Hulk only remain because of duty to Persian people, Benn just had to ask! Hulk wanderlust grow strong! Hulk seek adventure, not long term paternalistic care of multiethnic Imperial state!”

Mr Benn smiled.

“Well alright then.”

It was a half hour later, and Mr Benn lay the real Persian Emperor on the Royal Bed. 

“When he comes around from the memory implantation, the symptoms ought to resemble the beginnings of a very bad hangover. Nobody should be any the wiser, especially because he’ll remember everything you said and did.”

“Hulk pleased, Hulk not want to cause difficult transition.”

Mr Benn had only one thing left to add. He finished the last of his wine, and laid the goblet down at the side of the King on the bed.

“That ought to do it. Let’s go, and leave him to the task at hand.”

The two of them walked out of the tent, and prepared to shift in time and space. The Hulk took one last look at the royal camp, and said the following in Old Persian;

“Fair Aryans, may ye fare well and weather the centuries. May ye have either fair masters, or liberty. I bless ye all in the name of Ahura Mazda.”

And with that, the two were gone.

But if they had remained some hours, until the Persian Emperor had awoken, they might have worried about how much of the Hulk’s memories and thoughts they had implanted in the royal brain. For they would have heard the following words echo out into the night;

“DARIUS SMASH MACEDONIANS!”

Chapter Text

The Hulk and Mr Benn, fancying a break from places either of them already knew, had arrived on a 38th century AD planet. Mr Benn had generally avoided this period in his own travels, because he had heard that the music was awful and the company worse, but he was prepared to give it a chance. They looked out over scrubby grasslands, with tall mountains visible in the far distance. But the grasslands drew their attention more, for the cactuses that littered the landscape were of the most unusual shape- they looked really rather like fir trees that had been stunted in their growth.

“You know, Hulk, if it weren’t for those strange cactuses this would be the John Ford classic landscape right here. I could imagine an Ennio Morricone film score beginning any second now.”

“God bless his holy name good sir!” came a voice behind them. The Hulk and Mr Benn turned around, to find a very strange figure looking at them. 

They were wearing a poncho decorated with trees and deer, and wore a Viking helmet on their head (the actual kind of Viking helmet, not the kind with horns). The effect of the helmet was not only spoiled by the poncho, but by the digital display built into the eye slits. They were also hastily holstering some generic laser pistol, which made the Hulk suspicious.

“Why Christmas Viking Cowboy have gun out?”

“Begging your pardon sirs, but I had been thinking to rob the pair of ye, being clearly foreigners to the planet. But I can’t harm those who know of the Holy Prophets, that wouldn’t be right! I might as well introduce myself, now that we’re not set to afighting. I’m Chad Billybobsson, not the perfect Norzmerican you’ll ever meet but God saw fit to get me appointed Bandito-Priest in the Church.”

“Nice to meet you Chad, this is the Hulk,” said Mr Benn, pointing to the Hulk who waved hello, “and I’m Mr Benn. Might I ask which Church it is that you represent?”

“Ah you’re right to ask sir, what with so many denominational splits and all. I’m a servant in God’s own church, sirs, the Spaghetti Western Rite. We differ with the Spaghetti Western Apostlic on their position on Clint Eastwood, peace be upon his memory. They’re filthy heretics, of course, but they’re alright. And besides, it’s a dangerous universe sirs, us Cinematic Christians must stick together!”

“Indeed, you might well be robbed just for landing on somebody else’s planet!” said Mr Benn.

“Absolutely sir, absolutely,” said Chad, missing the jab completely, “And in that spirit might I suggest we seek shelter in the town of Uppsale? If you would care to follow me, I shall lead the way as God and Leone are my witnesses!”

The three of them then walked to town, which turned out to be quite nearby. It was actually a lot nicer than Hulk and Mr Benn had been imagining- Uppsale had been built next to a lake, which was surrounded by various farms and animal fields. The roofs of the town’s houses were carpeted in photograss, which both looked nice and generated solar energy for their occupants. The scent of meatballs, smoked cod, gumbo, and crawfish wafted pleasantly from several stalls. The general pattern of clothing was thus; red jackets and shirts of various colours on top, with dungaree shorts on the bottom. Some people wore wide brimmed hats, others wore large pairs of sunglasses. All in all it seemed like a nice place to live in. People greeted both the Bandito-Priest and his two new friends warmly, to the point where the inner Southern Briton of Mr Benn was quietly screaming at strangers saying hello for no reason (“It’s not right!”). Chad led them to a modest but well-kept house, and unlocked the door with a retinal scan. Everything was very neat inside, with a large axe and shield kept lovingly above an inviting fireplace in the main sitting room.

Mr Benn and the Hulk were left alone in the sitting room for a few minutes whilst Chad vanished into the kitchen, having taken off his helmet. He then returned holding two plates of hot food.

“I’m afraid it’s just the plain Norzmerican fare I can offer you sirs, meatballs with fries, gravy and cranberry sauce.”

“That’d would be more than adequate.” said Mr Benn with a smile.

“Thanks Christmas Viking Cowboy.” said the Hulk as he took his plate.

“You don’t mind if I turn on the wireless do you sirs? I like to listen to the choir with my dinner.” Having received no objections, he turned on the radio. The announcer informed the listeners that they were about to hear a Hymn from the Mobile Cathedral Youth Choir, and they duly began The Good the Bad and the Ugly .

As Mr Benn ate his dinner, he reflected that the 38th century was far crazier than he’d imagined it. But it was also a lot more interesting than he’d given it credit for, and it was starting to grow on him.

Chapter Text

Hulk had just started to wash the plates when loud sirens suddenly filled the air, and the radio broadcast stopped. A calm voice instead came out of the wireless;

“Planetary Defences have detected a large and unidentified fleet of spacecraft approaching. Its intent is believed to be hostile, and all civilians are advised to evacuate to their nearest shelter immediately. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.”

“Dishes not clean themselves! Hostile spacethings to go home!” said Hulk with a scowl. The three of them quickly exited the house, watching as dozens of locals ran towards shelters.

“So, Chad, the two of us are not exactly civilians…” said Mr Benn.

“I figured as much, seemed a mite peculiar for you to just arrive like that. Well, as God almighty has sent you our way it would seem awfully impolite not to appreciate the help. I’ll be in charge of the local militia if any of these fiends make planetfall, I’d be much obliged if you would come with me to help organise my berserkergang .”

“Hulk smash puny invaders!”

“And where he goes, I go!”

The rest of the militia quickly assembled themselves, and including Chad came to thirteen. Each of them were roughly as well equipped as Chad, with helmets and various small arms; not exactly material to repel an orbital invasion, thought Mr Benn, but they had a little extra help today.

“Does the town have shielding?” asked Mr Benn.

“It does indeed, it would take a barn full of fusion bombs to break it. And whoever has the manpower to mount an orbital invasion would have the know-how to realise that, I reckon. So my senses be telling me that they’ll land, and probably in places like our fair town that lacks heavy weapons. Expect trouble!”

Moments after Chad said that, a series of enormous booms erupted from somewhere distant.

“That was the sonic boom of ships making planetfall, and since sound travels slower than light they’ll be much closer than that.” said Mr Benn warily. Sure enough, one of the berserkergang spotted dropships landing to the east, and the ragtag bunch quickly ran up the eastern slopes of the Uppsale valley. Some twenty dropships had landed, and the militiamen quickly huddled in prayer.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Eli Wallach, full of grace. Hail Clint Eastwood, full of grace.” said Chad, and they all said “Amen.”

All fifteen of them were ready- whilst the Norzmericans had been praying, Mr Benn had activated his mobile suit and charged his plasma rifle, whilst Hulk was always ready.

“Can Benn see what puny things come out of transports?” asked the Hulk.

“I think I ca- wait, no, I can’t. That’s strange,” said Mr Benn with a frown, “When I try to look at them something scrambles the image and I just get blurry distortions.”

“Hulk love surprises!” boomed the Hulk enthusiastically, and then leapt towards the foe.

“Does he always do that?” asked Chad incredulously.

“Almost always, I find it very reassuring.” replied Mr Benn, who followed suit with his jetpack. The militiamen yelled and charged behind him. Battle had been joined.

Whatever had come out of those transports was being tossed around like ragdolls by the Hulk, who were giving him about as much trouble as a block of cheese. But Mr Benn knew that this was just an advance scouting party- a force actually trying to occupy a fully populated world would need to be vast to accomplish something so massive. The trick was to learn more about them than their scouting force did about you. The fact that he couldn’t properly see the enemy was making that rather difficult.

“I am being such a stereotype.” said Mr Benn to himself, as he deactivated his helmet in the best tradition of action heroes, but he had a good reason- he thought it unlikely that organic eyes would be similarly impaired, and sure enough he was right. And he was looking at the strangest robots he ever saw- they were shaped as humanoids, complete with decorative wings, and extraordinarily colourful. The idea that somebody had taken this much aesthetic trouble with war robots confused him enormously. But he put it out of his mind as he set to work with his plasma rifle.

The militiamen had finally caught up. They ignored their ranged weaponry entirely in favour of charging in with axes, but the skirmish was already mostly over. The Hulk and Mr Benn left them to clean up the last of the robots, whilst they destroyed the transports. Soon the prairie was once again silent, and the victors examined their defeated foes.

“Who make pretty robots? Hulk feel like smashing precious treasures, not evil metal death things.” asked the Hulk thoughtfully.

“These be the strangest robots I ever did see.” said Chad.

“Well unless Antoni Gaudi travelled in time and built an army of robots, I have no idea.” said Mr Benn. But they were not left to ponder much longer- the ground seemed to shake as dozens, maybe even hundreds of sonic booms sounded overhead. Now the enemy was committing forces in earnest, and going against every cliche Mr Benn put his helmet back on- he had a feeling that much more deadly weaponry was about to be flung around.

Chapter Text

Unlike the first wave, this landing party was escorted by fighter craft, leaving Mr Benn and the Hulk’s hands full and unable to stop the robots from landing. The thirteen militiamen stood alone against thousands of the battle robots, but were made of stern stuff.

“Shieldwall!” cried Chad. The berserkergang’s hitherto unused bracelets extended into large metallic shields- when overlapped with one another they created a forcefield strong enough to repel the robot’s laser fire. With this they withstood their foes, only giving ground slowly and unwillingly, using their axes and laser pistols to pick off robots that came too close or tried to flank the shield wall. Meanwhile the Hulk and Mr Benn were still tied up dealing with the escorts, who might otherwise bomb the militiamen.

“This is getting us nowhere! Who are these guys?” cried Mr Benn.

“Hulk more than match for puny pretend aircraft, but Hulk cannot be in all places at once!” replied the Hulk.

“I’ll buy us some more time!” said Mr Benn, who had thought of a cunning plan. He launched his EMP missiles at the transports still descending towards the ground; they dropped like stones, crushing both the transports below and enormous swathes of the remarkably radiant robots.

Though robots and their airborne escorts were still everywhere, the twosome had earned a small respite from the constant flood of robots. Then Mr Benn picked up a radio broadcast coming from the enemy flagship:

“Remember 793! Remember 875! Justice shall be ours!” Mr Benn was puzzled, but he ignored that for the time being.

“Hulk, I’ve got a fix on their flagship, we should pay them a visit.”

“Hulk can’t jump that high, not everyone has jetpack shoes!”

“You’re right, we’ll need to borrow one of their fighter craft!” The words had barely left his mouth when the Hulk casually jumped upwards, grabbed one of the speeding fighters by the wing, landed, and pulled its robotic pilot out of the cockpit.

“Hulk not have license to operate this vehicle.”

“But where will you go? There isn’t a spare seat big enough for you, or a large enough cargo hold.”

“Puny humans need to breathe in space. Hulk not puny human!”

“There are so many reasons why that shouldn’t work… but if you say so! Hold on to something tight then!” said Mr Benn, climbing into the cockpit. The Hulk secured himself, and they both had to hope the craft could take that kind of mass. Mr Benn interfaced his suit with the craft’s systems, and began to take off, taking the opportunity to launch a barrage of missile fire into the robots still trying to approach the thirteen militia men. Then, injecting as much power as he dared, Mr Benn shot the craft upwards, aiming to head straight out of the outer atmosphere.

The fighter jet rose, and fast, bursting through atmospheric layers. Yet the Hulk showed no sign of discomfort, even when they left the stratosphere. Mr Benn then burned retrograde to head towards the enemy fleet- the ship really did not enjoy having to do this whilst also dealing with Hulk’s additional mass, but with protest it managed the burn. Soon, enemy ships became visible to the ship’s sensors; they were utterly invisible against the blackness of space, but the cockpit’s display highlighted them for Mr Benn’s benefit. They still had a few moments before contact with the enemy, and Mr Benn took that time to ponder the mystery of the flagship’s message.

“What happened in 793 and 875? Who are these guys?” he said to himself. But soon he had no more time to ponder- he had been spotted by the enemy fleet, and the ship squealed with alarm at how many things were placing a target lock on it- clearly they weren’t stupid enough to ignore a ship heading the wrong way, and with living creatures aboard it.

 The ship was armed with a lot of countermeasures, but they were mostly designed to be used when trying to get away, and Mr Benn was heading straight for the enemy flagship. He was just about to come up with a brilliant plan to avoid the dozens of anti-ship missiles when the ship’s sensors went wild; an enormous sensor profile had just arrived in orbit, as big as the enemy flagship. Mr Benn still managed a complicated, technical-term filled process to defeat the enemy missiles, but he was puzzled about the new ship. Then something crackled onto the ship’s radio and that of his suit.

“This is Captain Brad Bradsson of the NCS Eagle of the Wind , responding to a distress call from Tombstone-Visby colony. To the hostile fleet, if you disengage then you can expect a fair trial and mercy. If you do not disengage then this ship will smash to you to pieces like the hammer of Thor. To the people of Tombstone-Visby, we’ve got your backs.”

“Did you get that Chad?” said Mr Benn via the radio.

“Loud and clear!” shouted Chad, the cracks of laser fire heavy in the background, “What’re you up to anyway? I saw you steal the ship, I figured something clever came up!”

“We’re on our way to take out the enemy flagship, I got a fix on it.”

“Well then, godspeed gentlemen! May Clint Eastwood carry you safely through the valley of death!”

The enemy fleet was now far too busy to deal with one small fighter, the Eagle of the Wind having drawn their attention considerably. It was thus far easier to reach the enemy flagship than it should have been- they were not totally unmolested, but by the time that the flagship’s defence turrets had a firing solution the Hulk and Mr Benn were long gone- the ship had brought them as far as they needed to. They both had sufficient velocity to reach the enemy flagship without assistance now, and the Hulk went first- he smashed through the deflector shielding and hull like they were made out of tissue paper, and Mr Benn followed him into the hole that he created. He had to hurriedly turn on the suit’s inertial dampers, and narrowly avoided smashing into a wall.

“No time for stop!” said the Hulk, who began to run through the ship’s interior.

“Okay, sometimes it’s less a comfort and more frustrating.” said Mr Benn to himself, who followed.

Their unorthodox ingress had clearly been noticed, because robots were soon pouring out of every corridor and doorway the duo ran into. But if the robots had been in trouble before, they were only in a worse situation when the Hulk had the advantage of close quarters. They were effortlessly batted aside as Mr Benn tried to locate where the enemy commander was located. He finally located a map, which showed that the ship’s designer was unusually efficient when it came to designing for evil space-based megalomaniacs- the command centre was buried deep in the flagship’s interior, and surrounded in thick armour. But no armour of this century could possibly be a match for the Hulk. They soon found the thick, locked doors that led to the command centre, and Mr Benn simply had to sit back and watch as the Hulk slowly but surely forced them open. Robots who attempted to stop them entering were immediately dispatched, and now they were at the heart of things.

Within the command centre was a chair, surrounded by virtual displays. Within that chair was a robed figure, and Mr Benn mentally ticked that off his bingo card for villains in large spaceships. The figure rose from his seat.

“You have done well to reach this far. I see that you are not one of the wicinga cynn, so who are you?”

“I am Mr Benn, and this is the Hulk.”

“Hello to puny man.”

“Why do you fight by their side?”

“Hulk wants to finish washing plates.”

“We just happened to be visiting when you decided today was the day to invade Tombstone-Visby. I didn’t realise hell was going to be coming for breakfast, or I’d have worn a different suit. Why are you even attacking this planet? What’s the significance of 793 and 875? Who are you guys? The only thing I can think of that remotely links to those two dates is Lindisfarne.”

“Then you already have your answer.”

There was a silence.

“You have got to be kidding me. You’re… you’re looking for revenge against the Norzmericans because the Norse sacked Lindisfarne and then captured it? That’s what all this is about, because around 3,000 years ago Vikings did what Vikings always did and raided an abbey?”

“They must pay! For a hundred generations our cause of righteous vengeance has been carried in secret among those of us who remember, and it is my joy to be the generation that finally carries out our vengeance! First the Norzmericans will burn, then the Nova Swedes, the Icelander-Anglo Commonwealth, the Dene-Danes, the Nine Tribes of Greenland, and even the Varangi-Parsi! Every last trace of the Norse shall be excised from human existence!”

“You know… wait, what should I call you?”

“Cuthbert the 30th.”

“You know, Cuthbert, this is quite pathetic for three reasons. The first is that, quite frankly, when you wait to pay a blood debt for 3000 years you look like a moron. This is like the Assyrians deciding it’s time to pay back the Iranians for the destruction of their Empire in 610 BC. The second is that wiping out millions of human beings in order to avenge the pillage of a monastery is pretty unreasonable, somewhat disproportionate you might say! And the third is if you had the resources to assemble a force big enough to invade a human-settled world, you had the resources to build countless worlds out in the void, to help billions of people. Oh, and there’s actually a fourth reason.”

“And what’s that?” said the figure, casually picking up a short sword from a nearby surface.

“You allowed two total strangers to board your flagship, get you to ramble, and keep you distracted for long enough that most of your fleet is now disabled or destroyed.”

Cuthbert yelped, looked back at his displays, and saw that it was true. He snarled and ran with his sword raised. The Hulk casually backhanded him, and he impacted against one of the command centre’s walls with a metallic thunk.

“People’ve got to know their limitations, Cuthbert, and I think it’s safe to say you failed on that score.”

“Is Benn going to keep paraphrase movie quotes, or call good people and tell them bad people are knocked out? Hulk has dishes to wash!”

Chapter Text

It was a sunny December day in 21st century Auckland. Hulk and Mr Benn had just been visiting the Lazer Kiwi to help fix a laser lens misalignment, and were casually walking around the city, when a poster caught Mr Benn’s eye.

“The Pretty Decent New Zealand Bakeoff… twelve amateur contestants… tickets available for live studio audience. What do you think, do you want to go watch?”

“Hulk would be interested, is Benn sure he would be interested?” asked Hulk with as close to tact as he could muster.

“What do you mean?”

“Benn has tendency to get second hand nervousness watching puny humans in stressful situations.”

“Do I really? I’ve never even considered the possibility before.” said Mr Benn, who had absolutely considered the possibility before, and was undergoing the mortifying ordeal of being seen. Hulk sighed.

“If Benn is sure, then yes, Hulk would like to watch baking competition.”

The studio was fairly packed, as it turned out, and fitting the Hulk in was a minor challenge. In the end, the Hulk sat on the aisle steps, to save further logistical headaches. Sitting between Mr Benn and the Hulk’s improvised perch was a young woman with a slightly oversized orange jumper, short hair, and glasses, with a look of almost perpetual fascination. At that moment her fascination was directed towards the Hulk.

“So, erm, I have to ask. You’re not a local in a costume with some kinda over-elaborate scheme to either enact nebulous revenge on somebody, or disguise a financial scam of some kind, are you?” asked the woman.

“Hulk not in costume, and Hulk doesn’t have head for financial scams, let alone including nebulas in revenge.”

“We really are just here to watch the Bakeoff.” said Mr Benn.

“Fair enough, it’s just after the kind of life I’ve had, you do feel something of a need to check these things when you’re sat next to a very large green man! No offence.”

“Hulk not take offence, when Hulk been smashing things for as long as Hulk has Hulk finds it hard to resent certain amount of trepidation from others.”

“Wait a minute… you’re THE Hulk?! Sometimes I’m an absolute dunce. I can’t believe I just asked the Hulk if he’s some low grade villain in a costume!”

The conversation halted, however, as the crew started to announce that filming would begin shortly and could everyone be quiet please. On walked the celebrity presenter, Peter Jackson, who hadn’t been announced on the billing or the posters, and so came as a surprise. Despite the call for quiet, the entire audience couldn’t help clapping for him.

“Hi everyone, thanks. I realise I wasn’t on the posters or the other advertisements for the show, they didn’t actually get me to agree to do this until a few hours ago. It’s basically either this or directing a ten-part Hobbits: The Next Generation film series, and I really don’t want to go back to Middle-Earth again, so, here I am! I’m just going to do a quick little run through of the basic plan while the final checks are made before we go live. There’s going to be three rounds of baking today, judged by Beatrice Dijon and Darren Wellywood, who are actually experienced with cooking and baking unlike me, and after that, they’ll judge who of the initial twelve are going home this week, and who gets to be Star Baker, and that’ll be that. Does all of that make sense to you, everyone? Good. Okay I’m being told we’re 30 seconds out, there’ll be prompts for claps as we come in but, don’t feel pressured to clap if you don’t actually want to yet. This isn’t that sort of a big deal.”

A big screen was counting down the seconds til the broadcast started. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Then, suddenly, the studio plunged into darkness as the power went out. There was a general chorus of alarm and surprise from the audience, and in the midst of the sudden chaos Mr Benn thought he heard Peter Jackson’s voice crying out to say “Oi!”

Then, suddenly, the power came back on. But as the lights returned, Peter Jackson was no longer at the center of the TV stage, and a chorus of faints and gasps came from the audience. It appeared that somehow, Peter Jackson, Middle-Earth documentarian, had been kidnapped mere moments before the New Zealand Bakeoff was due to air.

“I should have known something suspicious was going to happen,” said the woman with the orange jumper, “Whenever I get invited to go to something there’s always some kind of mystery.” She started getting out of her chair.

“Hulk want to find out mystery too! Hulk came all this way for Bakeoff, Bakeoff must happen!” said the Hulk, following suit.

“Well I suppose that’s volunteered me as well.” said Mr Benn.

“I usually solve mysteries with a gang of friends whose quirks and strengths play off each other in useful yet amusing ways, do you wanna form our own gang to solve this confounding caper?” asked the woman with a flourish and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Sure!” said Mr Benn.

“Hulk can play archetype of enigmatic intellectual!” said the Hulk.

“Well then, let’s go and offer our services to help sort things out!”

The three of them marched up to the director, who was looked to be in an absolute state.

“Hi, I’m Velma Dinkley, and these are my friends, we were wondering if we might offer our services to help solve the case of the missing Peter Jackson?”

Chapter Text

“So I think we can rule out a few things straightaway” said Velma, scratching her chin.

“How so?” asked Mr Benn.

“Well, if there was some kinda costumed villain, we’d have been told about some local myth in a case of non-coincidental foreshadowing. They’re very predictable like that.”

“Good point.” Mr Benn saw that the Hulk was writing this down furiously in his notebook, and had somehow produced a deerstalker that was sitting incongruously on his head.

“On the other hand, if you’re going to kidnap a famous Middle-Earth documentarian, surely you’d have all sorts of opportunities to do it without there being an audience, or cameras! For whatever reason, kidnapping Mr Jackson was something they wanted to do right here, in front of an audience and about to go live to New Zealand television.”

“So, does it seem reasonable that either they were specifically preventing Mr Jackson doing something, or that their choice to kidnap him in such unlikely circumstances was meant to be a gesture? We’re so skilled we can kidnap a famous documentarian in a room filled with cameras and an audience?” asked Mr Benn.

“That seems reasonable. Although I can’t imagine who they’re trying to advertise themselves to, unless there’s some kinda convention circuit for villains that I haven’t had an invite to yet.”

“Enigmatic Detective Hulk queries suggestion. HYDRAcon cancelled this year due to scandal.” said the Hulk with his best attempt at inquisitive gravitas.

“... of course there’s a convention circuit for villains. I shoulda known. They have to be buying those suits and costumes from somewhere .”

“Beside, Hulk mysteriously suggest that, if incident meant to draw attention, it not aimed at villains…”

Before the Hulk could elaborate, there came the sound of a drawling southern USA accent, so rich and fried that it almost seemed artificial.

“Why Miss Velma Dinkley, how lovely, and unexpected, to see you here!” said the voice. Velma turned with some surprise.

“Is that Benoit Blanc ?? You’re the last person I expected to run into here!” said Velma, who clearly recognised the man calling out to her.

“I must confess I am just as confounded by the strangeness that we would coincide in this studio, in New Zealand of all places, but in fairness you always were a bit of a globetrotter!” said Benoit, who gave Velma a genuinely warm hug.

“Benny, I want you to meet two new friends of mine! This is Mr Benn, and this is the Hulk.”

“Delighted!” said Mr Benn. The Hulk doffed his deerstalker.

“Charmed! Just to rewind a second though, Velma, are you saying running into the Hulk, the very Platonic incarnation of anger himself, as green as the family farm’s pasturage, was somehow more expected than running into me?”

“Benny, I dated Sally McKnight from the Hex Girls. John Constantine crashed on the couch one time. I taught in the Ghoul school for a semester. It’s honestly weirder when totally regular people come back into my life.”

“Fair enough Velma, fair enough. By the way, I assume you did the usual and offered your services to solving this mysterious kidnapping? Do I take it your two new friends are helping you with the case?”

“Velma asked so politely we couldn’t possibly refuse.” said Mr Benn.

“Indubitably.” said the Hulk.

“Excellent. I say Velma, I don’t happen to have laid hands on a seemingly-naive yet highly perceptive bystander to act as my assistant, could I possibly request a timeshare on your two companions? Not that I perceive either of yourselves as naive” said Benoit, making a grand conciliatory gesture with his hands. He really was very expressive. Before Velma could answer, however, another figure joined the growing gaggle.

“Hello everyone, is this the talented amateur detective gaggle?” asked a dignified older lady from New Zealand, who on closer inspection turned out to be Beatrice Dijon, one of the two judges of the New Zealand Bakeoff.

“Gosh, Mrs Dijon! I suppose this must be.” said Velma, who was suddenly nervous around meeting such a distinguished elder cook.

“Well, I don’t mean to add too many chefs to the crocque en bouche, but I’m something of an amateur detective myself, in my spare time. I used to do housework for Dot Williams, and she used to be the famous detective Phryne Fisher’s maid once upon a time, so I picked up a few things. Oh, is that the famous Mr Benoit Blanc? This really is a distinguished little gathering!”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Dijon, far too kind. Such a distinguished pedigree for an amateur sleuth, Phryne Fisher is still a legend in the community, though how she ever found time to detect anything with her busy… social schedule has always fascinated me.” said Benoit.

“And this handsome young man must be the Hulk! My youngest grandson is a big fan of yours!”

The Hulk demurred, and to Mr Benn’s keen eye he thought he saw slight shades of blush in the giant’s cheeks.

“Whilst William and myself are already personally acquainted.” said Beatrice. Mr Benn did a double take. It was very rare that he forgot a face, and he didn’t remember Beatrice Dijon’s at all.

“I confess you have me at an advantage, Mrs Dijon, I’m afraid I don’t recall our previous encounter!” said Mr Benn with a slight fluster.

“The ‘51 Le Bal Oriental in the Palazzo Labia.” said Beatrice simply. Mr Benn’s face went from his usual colour to almost scarlett. Oh dear. He knew exactly where he’d met Beatrice Dijon before, although not as Beatrice Dijon. He was so flustered he failed to notice the Hulk was writing all of this down too, or Velma’s raised eyebrow of curiosity, or Benoit’s cough disguising a laugh that tried to escape.

Mr Benn was saved from further embarrassment by the Hulk dramatically coughing, or rather, attempting to dramatically cough and instead coughing so loudly that everyone’s clothes billowed from the shockwave.

“Hulk has supposition to share.” he said simply.

“By all means, my trusty green titan, go right ahead.” said Benoit.

“It not every day this many amateur detective gathered for one case.” said the Hulk.

“That’s true,” said Velma, “There’s usually only two per crossover when that happens.”

“What if cowardly criminals know this many amateur detective gathered in audience?” asked the Hulk.

“What are you suggesting?” asked Mr Benn.

“Benn suggested, earlier, that inexplicable crime might be to draw attention. What if crime meant to draw attention of amateur detective due to crime making no sense, Hulk suggest dramatically.” suggested the Hulk dramatically.

“You know… now I think about it, it’s exactly the kind of bizarre case that would make me giddy with excitement.” said Beatrice.

“I cannot disagree, I am known to be compelled by a truly obtuse mystery.” said Benoit.

“So then here’s the humdinger of a question. Why does whoever kidnapped Mr Jackson want lots of talented amateur detectives in one place?” asked Velma.

“Hulk cannot deny chilling implication. But safety of Middle-Earth film man Jackson paramount. Hulk suggest only way to unravel trap is to spring it.” said Mr Hulk, ignoring the deerstalker falling off his head as he dramatically crossed his arms. The assembled amateur detectives all nodded dramatically.

“Velma, I know what you are going to say next, and I just wanted to ask if I could say it instead. I have kind of wanted to say it for a while.” asked Benoit, almost sheepishly.

“Oh go on Benny.” said Velma indulgently.

“Alright then! Let’s split up and look for clues!”

Chapter Text

Some time had passed as the various assembled detectives set to work hunting for clues. They had just reassembled, with their frustrated faces showing the lack of progress they had made.

“That usually works!” said Velma with a frown.

“Indeed it does, indeed it does. As far as I can ascertain Peter Jackson was literally and completely disappeared via some means leaving no manner of evidence, even in its cover-up.” said Benoit, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m beginning to seriously consider that this might have some… supernatural quality.” said Beatrice. She looked as though this was some sort of reckless suggestion that the others, who she imagined to be far more accomplished and experienced than herself, would reject. However.

“Hulk inclined to agree.”

“I think so too. The only other explanations involve technology beyond the capability of the early 21st century Earth, and I would have spotted its traces by now.” said Mr Benn.

“I cannot rightly say that I have anything to refute that suggestion, though it’s honestly a little outside my particular forte, and closer to Velma’s.” said Benoit, lighting a cigar.

“Well usually most of mine turn out to be fake supernatural Benny, staged theatrics rather than actual magic. But you’re right, sometimes they really are something out of the ordinary, though it can be hard admitting that if you’re as committed to scientific principles as I am.”

“Given esteemed detective assembled expertise, Hulk wonder if any among us possess means to detect strange magicks and sorceries.” said the Hulk, who really managed to emphasise the word ‘magicks’ in the sentence.

“Well… as it is happens, I don’t like to use it because it’s cheating in most cases, but Sally did leave me this charm in case I ran into something witchy.” said Velma, reaching into a pocket.

She pulled out an opal carved into the shape of an owl, which glimmered and glinted strongly. 

“Did she make this specially for you?” asked Benoit, not unkindly.

“She did.” said Velma, blushing slightly.

“I can feel that one,” said Beatrice, looking somewhat confused, “does anyone else feel a kind of jittery adrenaline in their elbows and fingertips?”

“No?” said everyone else.

“If it isn’t an impertinent question, Mrs Dijon, might I ask if you yourself have, as well as being an accomplished cook and an amateur detective, ever dabbled in what one might term the demi-monde?” asked Benoit, looking intrigued.

“Well, no, not that I’m aware of. My grandmother, Joyce Wehipeihana, was a tohunga, but my mother always thought those were just stories, and I’ve never really thought about it much.”

“I mean… that’s a lot more connection to anything magical than a former NASA employee can lay claim to,” said Velma, “Do you want to see if this charm will work for you?”

“I mean… I’d rather not, if that’s alright my love. Aside from the rather existential moment I’m having right now of re-evaluating my entire connection to my traditional culture and what it means for me going forward, if I am in any way… magically inclined, it’s to a very different tradition than whatever your friend used to make this lovely charm. It’s like how my experience making spanakopita isn’t a license for me to assume I can produce a perfect samosa without consulting a recipe, I suppose.”

Velma took a deep breath.

“I suppose I’m just still nervous about trying to use this. Not just because it feels like cheating, not just because my ex girlfriend made it for me, but also something that I’ve always worried about magic is, what if I get it wrong? What if magic just doesn’t work for me?”

“Velma internalise notion that making mistake is reflection on Velma’s worthiness. But Velma also understand that many skill only acquired after long practice, and mistake inevitable, particularly if Velma not told parameter of success or failure.” said Hulk, gently putting his hand on Velma’s shoulder.

“My friend, I wonder if you’re in the wrong line of work with the whole angry violence gig.” said Benoit.

“Okay, I’ll have a try…” said Velma. She looked down at the shining charm in her hand, then closed her eyes very hard, like she was trying to imagine something into being. Nothing happened for a few seconds. Velma screwed her face up harder. Still nothing happened. Then she gasped for air, as she’d been holding her breath.

“Well, that didn’t work.” she said, resentfully.

“Don’t be discouraged dear Velma!” said Benoit. He looked at the charm for a second.

“May I borrow that beautiful amulet for one moment? It helps my process sometimes to have some sort of prop to hand.”

Velma handed over the charm.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I’ll be very gentle with it. Now, I have a suggestion. This charm was made by a lovely young lady I’ve never personally met but heard many things about. She’s a member of a, forgive me for sounding my age, but a kind of pop-rock-goth ensemble, and from what you’ve previously informed me about her Velma she very much seems to be of the bombastic, ritual sort. You know, the kind of person who always wanted to be the cackling witch in an old cartoon but without the part where she’s evil. So rather than some kind of… internal alignment, I rather suspect that to use this charm needs something with a bit of overegged panache. For instance, ‘O wondrous talisman, opal wrought, o empyrean pearl, guardian and watcher and protector, lend us your sight, show us what sorcerous misdeeds have been visited upon this great stage!’ That sort of thi-” and with that the charm began to glow with piercing light.

“Oh.” said Benoit, looking genuinely surprised, who then absent-mindedly handed Velma the charm back.

“Thanks Benny.” said Velma, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.

The charm’s glow grew until it seemed to cover the entire room, almost blinding everyone, and then withdrew. What remained was a kind of person-shaped outline that somehow intersected with impossible colours, which the detectives realised was right where Peter Jackson had been standing before his disappearance. From that outline, a faint trail emerged that all of them could see.

“So, I assume we’re all reasonably comfortable assuming this trail leads to where Mr Jackson has been disappeared to?” asked Beatrice. Everyone else nodded.

“Hulk hopes Jackson close by, Enigmatic Detective Hat hard to keep on over long distances.” said the Hulk with every indication of seriousness.

“This does mean that, rather than a slow yet inevitable buildup to a confrontation with the villain of the piece, we’re going straight at them, guns proverbially blazing, when they have some kind of supernatural ability.” said Velma.

“Sadly we’re not always at liberty to confront the mastermind of a crime when we’re in our best vantage point to understand them.” said Benoit, dramatically adjusting his jacket.

“There is the fact that we’re pretty sure they want to attract a bunch of detectives and we’re going to be walking straight into that without knowing why.” said Mr Benn, who played with numerous small devices hidden under his suit jacket’s sleeves.

“We just have to remember that Peter Jackson, Aotearoa’s great shining light, is counting on us.” said Beatrice, steeling her gaze. Everyone nodded. And with that, they followed the magical trail.

They didn’t have to go far before the trail stopped, right in the cark park at the back of the studio. It was strangely quiet, particularly given how many people had been in the studio audience and would have been morbid enough to stick around and find out what happened. Something definitely felt off. Then, as the detectives tentatively approached the end of the trail, something strange began to happen. The air crackled, and it was like they had suddenly stepped into some kind of mirror-dimension of the car park. The air became still, and the colours of everything within the car park, including the detectives, were ever so slightly off. There, not a few meters away, was Peter Jackson, unconscious but otherwise looking none the worse for wear, and the figure of none other than Darren Wellywood.

“Oh it’s always the named person who otherwise seems to be irrelevant! I should have known” said Velma in slight despair.

“Now, don’t be too hard on yourself Velma Dinkley, I did my very best to make this such a perplexing case that even those who prided themselves on logic and deduction would resort to magical means to find me, and you didn’t disappoint! I-”

Before Darren could talk anymore, Mr Benn simply said

“Hulk, smash please.”

The Hulk went for a mighty blow, and froze. There was another faint crackle in the air, and a faint symbol was visible glowing above Darren’s outstretched right hand.

“Now now, none of that thank you very much. I’ve seen what those big green arms can do on TV and I can’t say I really want to be on the receiving end. Besides, I’m not planning on harming your precious Peter Jackson, or any of you unless it proves absolutely necessary.”

“Alright then, Mr Wellywood, if you don’t wish any of us any harm, why are we all here. Why all of these elaborate preparations to draw us here?” asked Benoit, crossing his arms.

“I’d like to know that too.” said Velma and Beatrice simultaneously. The Hulk remained silent- whatever had been done to him had seemed to freeze him completely.

“Well it’s relatively simple really. You realised already that I was looking for skilled amateur detectives. Almost any would do, but I knew I had a parcel of top notch ones from the bookings for the show. Benoit Blanc and Velma Dinkley, plus I knew my fellow judge Beatrice Dijon liked to indulge in a little detection now and again. Your other two friends were an unexpected bonus. The reason why I wanted detectives in the first place is for a little ritual I’m about to perform.” said Darren, with a maniacal gleam in his eye.

“There’s something about the way he just said the word ‘ritual’ that’s making me a little uneasy.” said Mr Benn, the master of understatement.

“So what kind of ritual is this? Because if this is a demon summoning, John Constantine owes me a favour…” said Velma defiantly.

“Oh nothing as gauche as that,” said Darren, waving his other arm dismissively, “I’m not the sort to covort, consort, or bargain with demons. That rather implies that what I’m doing is evil, as opposed to simply drastic. No, this ritual is indeed a summoning, or more precisely an invocation, but nothing with that sort of chthonic flavour. It’s someone with a little more connection to each of you than that.”

“A connection to… us? Darren most of us have never met before today, what on earth are you babbling about.” said Beatrice.

“Not in the sense of a mutual acquaintance, think of it more as sharing a metaphysical space. You see, all of you, amateur detectives all, have a deep link with that which is somewhat vulgar, sensational, at times even violent perhaps. In a word, you are deeply and inextricably bound to the concept of ‘pulp’. As, indeed, is our giant green friend in his own way, although his presence here today was unplanned and more of an added bonus.”

“So then, let’s say that we’re bound by a certain combination of treading the shores of the macabre, the dramatic, the strange stories of even stranger events. You’ve established what links all of our number, besides our habit for solving that which makes no damn sense. What is it exactly you hope to summon of our shared basis in that, as you put it, metaphysical space?” asked Benoit, smoking a fresh cigar.

“Why, Mr Blanc, only the incarnation of that which binds you all together, the personification of all that we have just described. I’m referring to the avatar of pulp herself, Penny Dreadful.”

As Darren spoke those words, there was a different sort of crackle in there. It left a faint taste of copper in the mouths of everyone present.

“Penny… Dreadful? Isn’t that the format of popular, ultra cheap serial literature from the 19th century?” said Velma with more than a little incredulity.

“Quite correct, Velma Dinkley. It is indeed the genre at the very birth of pulp in modern culture-”

“Modern English speaking culture.” corrected Mr Benn.

“Whatever, Mr Benn. The power of pulp is immense, and its veins run everywhere. The emotions it provokes and inculcates in its audience, the outrage of so many bastions of traditional values, the outlet it provides for that which is taboo in society. How could such a force not tap into the metaphysical and the supernatural in the way that so many other core moving forces do? Ever since I realised this, and harnessed its power for my own, I have sought ever greater heights. Now, today, by helping me to summon Penny Dreadful herself into this place, you’ll help me achieve this!” said Darren, who only narrowly avoided the urge to maniacally laugh.

“So just to check, you’re a professional baker, of some years, generally a bit famous on the old telly. Except you’re actually an overly dramatic magician? Sorcerer? Warlock? Drawing power from the concept of… pulp fiction and its attendant associations… and you want to summon the incarnation of those concepts by the power of gathering five amateur detectives in a parking lot in Auckland?” said Mr Benn.

“Well said.” said Benoit quietly.

“I wouldn’t say it’s particularly stranger than a perfectly ordinary middle class British man from the 1960s frequenting a magical clothes shop and then deciding he wants to be a time-travelling John Steed knock off.” said Darren.

“Touche.” said Mr Benn.

“Having set a suitable mood, I’d like to introduce you all to Penny herself. I’d like to say that the ritual is complicated, with ominous chanting and big special effects, but it’s actually going to complete after I do this.” said Darren, who clicked his fingers. 

In an instant, the coppery taste was back in everyone’s mouth, but magnified, and by his side was a somewhat indistinct figure, sometimes resembling a woman in late Victorian working class clothes, at other times a mid-20th century woman with dishevelled hair and a torn dress, at others a gaunt woman with a covered head and piercing eyes. This, then, was Penny Dreadful, and alongside her constantly morphing form everyone could feel the somewhat eldritch energy radiating from her like a lamp. She looked to be in some discomfort, a fact which did not escape everyone’s attention, particularly not Beatrice’s. The others began to notice that Beatrice was starting to shake with anger.

“Darren, what exactly is it you plan to do with Penny Dreadful?” asked Beatrice in harsh, clipped tones disguised with a sing-song voice that ought to have been a warning to Darren Wellywood to stop exactly what he was doing right that instant.

“Well, once I’ve managed to stabilise her apparition a bit, I was going to have her help me gain… oh, power and influence in the magical community? A certain amount of elevated fortune, nothing too gaudy. And then from there, reshaping New Zealand to a certain degree so that it’s a bit better, a little more to my taste? Maybe other bits of the world if I feel like it?”

“How dare you,” said Beatrice, staring down at the floor in growing apoplexy, “How bloody dare you Darren Wellywood. This is your home, sure, Aotearoa is where you live. But this land is not yours, it isn’t owned like that. You stand in the city that is Auckland but that is also Tamaki, in the language of my grandmother and her ancestors back to the ancient canoes that landed on these shores. This is not some generic space for you to use stolen power to dominate in your petty, arrogant way! And just look at her, for crying out loud! This incarnation is in discomfort and some pain, either from the means through which you have pulled her into this space, or because she is being asked for more than she is ready for. If we really are all contributing to her existence, as you claim, then I should think that, even if you aren’t planning on harming us, and you really are going to let us all go after this, that it would be absolutely bloody indecent to simply sit and let you misuse this poor woman who needs comfort and perhaps even a measure of support!”

Beatrice’s knuckles were white.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, Beatrice Dijon, you are absolutely capable of it, and I think you should go right ahead.” said Benoit firmly.

“I quite agree.” said Mr Benn, who was feeling some regret at missed opportunities in the past and had no wish to miss one now.

“You go ahead, Mrs Dijon!” said Velma.

“Thank you everyone,” said Beatrice, whose gaze was now redirected at Darren, who actually recoiled. As this began, Mr Benn heard a ‘pssst’ directed at him. It took him a second before he realised it was coming from the Hulk. As he looked at the Hulk’s face, the Hulk subtly moved his eyebrows.

“You never were actually frozen by that spell were you, you clever old bean.” muttered Mr Benn to himself. Being somewhat sensitive to the ebb and flow of time and narrative, he felt the wind of momentum begin to shift, and gently smiled.

“I ask your audience, mother Papatūānuku” began Beatrice, “Though I cannot do so in the tongue of my grandmother and her ancestors to the times of Kupe, though I do not know their words or remember the songs they used to sing. I ask your audience, for a daughter in the youth of her power has been captured by a petty, cruel man. I ask for a mother’s love and balm for this poor creature. I am, as my grandmother was, a tohunga, she was a tohunga of healing and the medical arts, I am a tohunga of feast and shelter. Please, grant my audience, and help this woman I see before me.” 

Tears ran down from Beatrice’s eyes.

A mist began to rise from the ground. The coppery taste in the air began to subside. Replacing it was the sound of distant birds, and rustling leaves, the smell of rich earth, and the feeling of a warm love. The crackle of strange frenzied magic in the air was replaced by a sense of moving winds and gently swirling waters.

“My child, my little godling,” said Papatūānuku through Beatrice’s mouth, “You are so young. You have not been permitted a mother, you have not been permitted love. This little man shall not have you. I have been called and I have answered and I say that I shall not let him have you.”

The mists gathered around Penny Dreadful, whose shapeshifting began to slow down, and whose expression began to lift.

“You shall come with me, little godling, and we shall see what we can do. You are lucky, ‘Darren’, that I do not have responsibility for you, for you are not in good steading with me. You are, with all your weaknesses, still a human, a scion of my son Tūmatauenga, and he permits humanity responsibility for itself. If you crossed but a little further to the other side, my husband would set your eyes to orbit a star, left to burn for ten thousand years.”

The voice left Beatrice, who collapsed into Mr Benn’s arms as Papatūānuku departed. Penny Dreadful departed with her, and for a moment, all was peaceful confusion.

The Hulk, the essence of swiftness, immediately seized Darren, who had remained silent and petrified throughout the entire ordeal, and was now even more petrified at both learning that he had never had the Hulk pacified and at suddenly being in the Hulk’s grasp. Fortunately the Hulk was simply content to restrain him, and Darren’s utter collapse in his morale allowed his various spells to begin to unravel. The colours of the world righted themselves, and everyone, including the unconscious Peter Jackson, had returned back to the ‘real’ Aotearoa.

“I do believe that is one of the most profound things I have ever witnessed.” said Benoit, entirely sincerely.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever see anything like that again.” said Velma, who retained an awed expression.

“Allow moment to breathe, and settle.” said the Hulk. He looked over at his friend Mr Benn for a moment, who was gently keeping Beatrice comfortable in her unconscious state.

“I suppose we’d better take Mr Jackson back to normality, such as it is.” said Benoit, who took his cigar out of his mouth and looked at it, as though it were somehow insufficient.

“Hulk does still want to watch baking show.” said the Hulk, but softly.

“Life does have to go on.” said Velma, not entirely convincingly.

“To be fair, Velma,” began Mr Benn quietly, as though trying to avoid waking Beatrice, “You’re the kind of person who runs into something extraordinary and, rather than going back to waking life, rerranges your whole life to become centered on that thing. All of us here are, in our own ways.”

“I feel I should ask, seeing as you were quite happy to be called a time traveller, and clearly have an established relationship with such an extraordinary figure as the Hulk, is this all of a muchness to you? Given that the extraordinary that your life centers around sounds a lot more intense than what most people mean when they use that word” asked Benoit, probing a little.

“Even for the many things that I have seen, and in some cases done, today was more than a little out the ordinary. It’s a bit odd having a sudden reminder of the profound when so much adventure is so… pulpy, at times, I guess.” said Mr Benn.

“I suppose, then, that ultimately today has been a reminder for all of us five. Perhaps we were somehow loci for the concept of pulp, as Darren here so insistently referred to us, the adventurous, the chaotic, the frenzied and at times the dangerous. But that is not all we are, we are not all about gratuitous entertainment, either for ourselves or others by proxy. We are also other things. We’re allowed to be other things.”

“Well said, Benny,” said Velma, “But let’s take Mr Wellywood to the local authorities before we slip too much into reverie. That is, after all, how these stories end.”

Chapter Text

It was a cool autumn day in Dayton, Ohio. Mr Benn, Velma, and the Hulk, were standing outside the entrance to a set of apartments. Hulk was having a little moment of crisis.

“If you feel like you aren’t ready for this, we can do this another time.” said Mr Benn, with his hand on the Hulk’s shoulder.

“There’s absolutely no pressure at all.” said Velma reassuringly.

“Hulk need to do this, this… important.” said the Hulk, with a deep sigh. Slowly, but surely, he raised his hand, and then rang the buzzer for flat 62. There were a few seconds of silence, and then a tinny voice came out of the intercom.

“Hello?” asked a soft voice.

“Banner? It Hulk.” said the Hulk, with an uncharacteristic softness, even vulnerability.

“Come right up” said Banner without any hesitation, followed by the harsh electronic wail of the door unlocking. The three of them said nothing as they walked through the corridors to the flat, and knocked. Answering the door was a somewhat lanky man with the look of someone who had once been very tired for a very long time. This, then, was Bruce Banner, the Hulk’s former alter ego.

“Are these friends of yours Hulk?” asked Banner, flashing a small smile at Velma and Mr Benn.

“Benn and Velma good friends.”

“Come in everyone, come in.”

“I can’t believe I’m walking into Dr Bruce Banner’s apartment.” muttered Velma to herself.

They all sat down on Banner’s sofa.

“How’ve you been Hulk?” asked Banner.

“Hulk been okay.” said Hulk, looking down at his feet. He was also starting to gently fidget with his fingers.

“I’m glad you’ve made some friends. How did you meet?”

“Benn and Velma explain better than Hulk.”

“Well, Dr Banner, we met super recently. This is my first real trip with the Hulk since we met, in fact. I can’t really think of a way to avoid this sounding strange, but we met in the audience of a Baking Show in New Zealand, shortly before Peter Jackson, the Middle-Earth documentarian, got kidnapped by a celebrity baker turned… sorcerer? with some big delusions of grandeur, and then we had to rescue Mr Jackson which turned into this really unexpectedly profound experience when someone else we met there reconnected to her heritage and used it to defuse the entire situation? I’m sorry for rambling but that really was a pretty accurate summary of what happened…” said Velma, who basically looked as though she’d been explaining an embarrassing accident to a personal hero and wanted to disappear into the floor.

“I’m sure it’s totally accurate, Velma. Velma Dinkley? From Mystery Inc?”

“I’m flattered you’ve heard of me Dr Banner!”

“When you were younger, you helped our friend Rick Jones out on a mystery, but also give yourself credit, Velma, there’s a good chunk of the cape community you’ve run into over the years! I’m glad you went to a baking show Hulk, I thought baking would be something you’d find interesting but I didn’t want to nag.” said Banner, smiling first at Velma and then, by the end, at the Hulk.

“As for myself, we met under slightly different circumstances. I’m William Benn by the way, although I’m usually known as Mr Benn to most. Are you okay with me telling Mr Banner how we met, Hulk?” said Mr Benn, checking that he wasn’t about to embarrass his friend at all. The Hulk nodded, and Mr Benn carried on.

“I’m friends with the owner of a magical costume shop in London. The Hulk had been buying something customised from the owner but was being perhaps a little brusque. He was somewhat easily irritated and both the shop owner and myself felt that he was lacking an outlet for what at the time I thought was anger, but which I realised might also be excitement in general. So I started taking him on my adventures, though the Hulk was skeptical that a man who tends to dress like it’s 1962 had any such adventures at first. We’ve been having adventures together ever since.”

“Have you been enjoying your adventures with Mr Benn, Hulk?” asked Banner. The Hulk gave slightly shy nods.

“I’m really glad. Both myself and the Hulk have often felt anxious about others not seeking out our company by choice. It’s good to feel like somebody wants you there, thank you for giving that to Hulk.”

“It was no trouble at all, we’ve been having a really good time. Can I ask, what’s your relationship with the Hulk?” said Mr Benn. He suddenly felt the room gazing at him and wasn’t sure why.

“Wait, you don’t know the connection between Bruce Banner and the Hulk Mr Benn? Don’t you regularly time travel, and have access to all kinds of knowledge about people’s pasts and futures?” asked Velma. Mr Benn shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.

“If I really needed or wanted to, yes, but there’s two things with that. The first is that I don’t really ever tend to use it to research someone I’m friends with, having access to that kind of instant… backstory to someone, if you like, is a bit alienating in its power, and I like getting to know people the old fashioned way as often as I can. The other thing is that, causality is a lot more durable than people think it is, time travel isn’t like a buffalo trying to walk through a greenhouse covered in eggshells, but it can be peculiar about violating your own personal timeline, and the Hulk has been part of mine for a while now.” he replied.

“To be honest, it’s particularly healthy for you to have done that with the Hulk, because you just taking the Hulk as he comes and just appreciating him for that is really nice.” said Banner. He took a gulp of water before continuing.

“In a nutshell, Mr Benn, the Hulk and I used to be aspects of the same person. I was caught in the blast zone of a gamma bomb test, and rather than melting into goo, the gamma radiation instead reacted with my pre-existing dissociative identity issues. Among many things, I had repressed a great deal of anger across my life, and that was the earliest core of the Hulk, whom I would transform into anytime I got sufficiently angry, or sometimes even excited.” Banner made sure to look over at Hulk and check how he was reacting to this explanation.

“As far as I’d been aware, the Hulk being part of you was still the deal, so when I saw him with Mr Benn not being angry, but not transforming back into you, I was a little confused. So, given that, and the fact that we’re sitting here having this conversation, I have to assume you eventually both decided to separate?” said Velma.

“Velma exactly right, both decided to separate.” said the Hulk.

“The irony being that, in order to do that, we had both needed to accept that we were really the same person. That Bruce Banner was someone who had suffered deep trauma and had tried forcing himself to cope for a long time, and that he externalised many of the experiences and emotions that he kept hidden within. That the Hulk was not a curse or a Jekyll esque transformation, but simply a part of Bruce Banner. That the Hulk hating ‘Bruce Banner’ was in part a resentment at being ignored and rejected even before the gamma bomb accident, and even more afterwards, but also in part finding it difficult to look at Bruce Banner’s face and be reminded of all that had happened to us.” Banner looked at the Hulk with a kind face, while Mr Benn looked at his indomitable friend with new understanding, and a new appreciation for how carefree he seemed during their adventures.

“But in considering all that, you decided to separate rather than to, I don’t know the word really… merge? Re-coalesce?” asked Mr Benn. Banner sighed a little, though not out of impatience, before replying.

“It was a major step for our mental health to realise all of that. However, you can’t just intellectualize your way out of experiencing DID, dissociative identity disorder, it’s something that requires extensive psychotherapy to treat. Accepting the Hulk as part of Bruce Banner was what allowed therapy to even seem like a plausible option. However, we had both thought of ourselves as separate beings for so long, the world treated us as separate beings for so long, we’d had separate lives, adventures, loves even. The Hulk felt like a valid other person, at that point, even if he had originally been part of a once-whole Bruce Banner. I felt like he deserved true agency, and the ability to feel like a whole person. I’m sure there are people who would have strong philosophical feelings about what Hulk is in relationship to me, given everything, but I think of him like a brother now, and I wanted to give him some space. But he was always welcome to come back and and see me whenever he wanted, and here you are.” said Banner, with a little smile at the end. The Hulk took a deep sigh of his own, and was clearly about to make a substantial contribution.

“Hulk appreciate space given. But if Hulk being honest, Hulk was still so used to resenting Banner that Hulk convinced Hulk was more content with relative solitude than Hulk really was. Hulk wandered, and Hulk felt lost. Hulk realised that Hulk still feared being nothing more than Banner’s tulpa. Not true individual with agency. Simply Banner’s store of rage at lifelong injustices. Was Hulk capable of being person, rather than… avatar of resentment? Hulk did not reach out to existing acquaintances, Hulk was like Banner, pre-emptively rejecting notion of help. Then Hulk met Benn. Benn make effort to reach out to Hulk, Benn not care that Hulk intimidating or different, Benn enjoy Hulk’s company. Benn offer lighthearted whimsical adventure. Individual moments not profound but, nonetheless, this offer Hulk growth. Hulk very grateful to Benn.” Saying all of this had clearly been a great effort, and the Hulk somehow looked drained after saying it, if it was even possible for him to even be drained. Mr Benn smiled. It was good to have a friend.

Chapter Text

The Hulk and Velma were going through Banner’s photos of various misadventures over the years. Mr Benn and Banner, however, had ended up in the apartment’s kitchen.

“Please don’t misunderstand this as a hostile question, but is it okay if I ask you to tell me about yourself a bit, Mr Benn?” asked Banner, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee.

“It’s absolutely fine, Dr Banner. Well… there’s a phrase somebody used to describe me recently that captures the spirit of an answer. ‘A perfectly ordinary middle class British man from the 1960s who frequented a magical clothes shop, who then decided he wanted to be a time-travelling John Steed knock off.’ It’s perhaps a little harsh but it captures the flavour fairly accurately.” said Mr Benn with a slightly false chuckle.

“I think you know that’s more than a little harsh. Sure, I don’t know you really at all, but if the Hulk likes you and trusts you that means there’s a lot more to you than that description. I got the impression from what you and the Hulk have been saying that you’re basically in the hero line of work?”

“More or less, it’s somewhat at the lighter end of the business than where yourself and the Hulk were gainfully employed I’m guessing.”

“It really depended on the day. Sometimes it was fairly carefree but a lot of the time it wasn’t.” Banner took another sip of his coffee, considering a moment.

“You strike me as, and I don’t mean this disrespectfully, straddling the Gentleman Swashbuckler and the Gadget Man, in terms of hero archetypes. Like a kid friendly Zorro mixed with Tony Stark, and a lot of mid-century southern English charm, which something Tony Stark’s never possessed in his life.” Mr Benn got the impression that this Tony Stark wasn’t particularly known for his social nous.

“I don’t know if I’d call myself that charming, but I don’t think that’s too far off from the overall picture. Tony Stark, any relation to Howard Stark?”

“His son, inherited the entire commercial empire at much too young an age. These days it would barely pass notice but back in the day it was like watching a ten year old inherit a medieval kingdom. You knew Howard Stark?”

“Not well, but we had some mutual acquaintances. Had something of a reputation.”

“So I’ve heard. Tony’s often struggled with the legacy of that. Speaking of, I get the impression you don’t spend too much time in your original time period, but I still imagine there’s a little bit of a culture shock at times? Or is it a relief to escape from that period for you?”

“Well, the first time I ever really travelled through time, rather than going through my friend’s pre-set adventures, I accidentally wound up in the 33rd century. Culture shock was something of an understatement! After that, places like the early 21st century were a lot less challenging to get used to, that’s for sure. But, it is true that I do avoid my ‘own’ time, if that’s really something that I really conceive of anymore. It certainly wasn’t a cruel life to me compared to many, but there was something… off about the role of a genteel man in a business suit strolling through the twilight of the British Empire like it was water off a duck’s back. It didn’t seem to fit, somehow. And it turned out that, in even a near future, there were far more important changes afoot than whether we all lived on a moon base, or owned a flying car.” Mr Benn took a sip of his cup of tea he’d nearly forgotten about. Fortunately, it was still mostly warm.

“Not to put you on the spot, but I couldn’t help but notice that you used the word ‘role’ when describing what was, effectively, your life, at that point. Do you often find yourself seeing your interaction with others as a form of inhabiting roles?” asked Banner.

“To the point where I’ve wondered whether or not there’s a real William Benn at the heart of it all, yes.” replied Mr Benn, who had not meant to reply with such immediate sincerity, and felt somewhat embarrassed.

“Did the magical costume shop help with that?”

“At first, I think it did. It allowed me to experience roles and expectations outside those with which I was raised for the first time. That was a valuable gift for someone living in the final embers of the British imperial establishment. But, eventually, you know I think it might have made it a little worse? After all, it was rather like I was in a book series, or a television show, where I had a part to play in each little episode and where I would fit in regardless of what was demanded of me. Where was I, in all that? If I was so adaptable to different circumstances, was there anything of me that I was actually preserving, would I change or compromise anything about me to fit in? Was I just desperate to finally find somewhere where I fit in?” Mr Benn sighed.

“I’m sorry for rambling at you all of a sudden like that.”

“You weren’t rambling,” said Banner, firmly but not unkindly, “You have the look of someone who hasn’t often had people actually ask you questions about yourself. Maybe more to the point, questions that you wanted people to ask about you. You wanted to be seen, and understood, and, like the Hulk, you wanted to be noticed and valued for who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Maybe not, maybe not. But I’m sure a man of your education understands, Dr Banner, that my upbringing was not so heterodox about such things. Little unquestioned assumptions that difficulties, particularly of the emotional kind, are to be kept behind closed doors, are tests to be withstood, are a burden if shared openly, even with friends and loved ones.”

“I do understand, yes. But I also understand that you don’t feel this pressure spending time with the Hulk.” said Banner. Mr Benn could almost feel Banner’s eyes boring into him, although he knew that the man was not interrogating him, or hostile to him. There was quiet for a few moments.

“No, I don’t feel that pressure with the Hulk, no I don’t.” said Mr Benn quietly.

“I think that spending time with the Hulk has been as healthy for you as it has been for him. I’m really glad about that. Because I recognise someone who has found things he can’t cope with but feels pressured to continue regardless, and you really don’t want to end up how I did. We’re the kind of people who throw ourselves at the hero work to avoid caring for ourselves by caring about everyone else. It’s important, worthwhile work, but it really helps to also feel cared for just for being yourself. The Hulk gets that from you, and you get that from him. I’m hoping that Velma, if she keeps travelling with the two of you, will help with that too.” There was another silence as the two men stood in the kitchen.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you, Dr Banner, if that’s alright.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Do you miss the weight of intimidation that the Hulk brought to your daily life? I know it must have interfered with a lot of things, but it certainly must have made some people think twice about how they treated you?”

“You would have thought so, but the only person who gave me any additional consideration on that score were the people who already cared about me. People were so obsessed with experimenting on the Hulk, or simply containing him, that they didn’t think twice about targeting me at all. Honestly, I feel more intimidating as a person now than I ever did before, as strange as that is to say out loud. But I think I know why you asked that. You want to know if Hulk acted as a kind of power fantasy for me. I think he did sometimes, and that’s part of what he began life as, even if it was a forbidden fantasy, but science was always where I felt the most powerful. Rationality, logic, reasoning things out, these were all things I craved, and values I clung to almost to excess. Giving the world a predictable, measurable shape.”

“I can understand that. Much of the technology that I use was originally from various periods of the past and future, but I spent a lot of time adapting it to my use, understanding how it worked, changing it to suit me, building all of that into something that had my imprint on it. Science is, at least for a lot of people, a form of control I suppose, and for the two of us, in its different ways, control over self and identity. I suppose that, there’s part of me that fears that if I gained some equivalent power to what you possessed with the Hulk, I wouldn’t ever be able to let it go in the way that you did. It’s not the responsibility that I fear, but what would happen if my worst inhibitions were enabled, and if I was unable to give that up, no matter the cost to myself or others.”

“Well, he isn’t literally part of you, but the Hulk is part of your life. He exposes vulnerability to you and cares about you, you do have a measure of control over what happens to him. Do you find yourself tempted to use him in the way you just described?”

“Absolutely not, but that’s different…”

“I don’t think that it is. You have a strong sense of responsibility, Mr Benn, and I think your fears about abusing power are founded on both having witnessed it done by others, but also an appreciation of just what it means to have any kind of power over someone. It gnaws at you because you understand what’s at stake, and because you worry that control, as you called it, was denied to you for so long that you’d not give it up if you were given it. That smacks me as, on a deeper level, mistrusting that you would be a good person if your past suffering was removed from you, and that’s so very unfair on you. If you’re the kind of person that couldn’t stand to leverage other people for your own advantage like that, then you’re also a lot more capable of resisting power’s misuse than you give yourself credit for. Come on, let’s head back to the other two.”

Chapter Text

The four of them had decided to go for a walk in Wegerzyn Gardens. As with any walking group with more than three people that also doesn’t want to block an entire path, they ended up in two split pairs, with the membership of each pair rotating according to some unconscious rhythm. By now, the back pair was Velma and Banner.

“So, today’s been kind of a lot for you!” said Banner.

“It sure has, Dr Banner. You’re somebody I never thought I’d meet! After all, we’re kind of in different circles, both in the scientific community and when it comes to, I don’t know what to call it, unusual hijinks?” said Velma, still looking a little shy around Banner.

“I see what you’re saying but, I think that’s putting a hierarchy between us that doesn’t need to exist. You’re not a kid that I’m teaching, and you’ve had professional experience with both academic science and hero work. Lots of people need to work on things that aren’t gamma radiation, or stop villains who aren’t out to conquer the entire Earth. You’re a colleague and a peer of mine, even if I’m a little older than you.” The wind gently blew through the park’s trees as they walked.

“I suppose I’ve always felt that my ‘hero work’ was important, don’t get me wrong, but that compared to Avengers or Justice League level stuff, it’s a little facile. I’ve not faced a great deal of tragedy in my life, not compared to the people I think of as being in the thick of it.”

“Well, suppose you haven’t had as much tragedy in your life as some others. It doesn’t mean that you’ve nothing of substance about yourself. Many of us who have experienced sustained or unusually severe trauma have tried to find meaning in that experience, some less successfully than others, but it doesn’t follow that trauma is necessary in order to be a worthy person. Not so long as you care what happens to other people and don’t treat people as pure objects of fascination.”

“That description sounds like a few detective types I’ve met before, unfortunately. Maybe that goes all the way back to Sherlock Holmes and similar.”

“People definitely got that idea about Sherlock Holmes, for sure, but, and I say this in full awareness that it sounds like a humblebrag, I’ve met the man once, time travel nonsense. Having done that, and re-read Dr Watson’s accounts of their time together, it’s more apparent to me that, mercurial though he could be, Sherlock Holmes was actually still concerned with the victims of crime and injustice. Sure, he was also obsessed with the intellectual challenge of the crimes he was solving and the criminals he was catching, but that these challenges weren’t conducted in a vacuum. I think his issue was more that he didn’t find it easy to relate to and communicate with a lot of other people.”

They walked in silence for a little while, before Banner started speaking again.

“Do you find you have difficulty relating to and communicating with other people, Velma?”

“Somehow saying ‘all the time’ feels like an understatement. Yes, I have difficulty with that. They take cues that I’m not providing, read things as deliberate choices that I’m doing entirely unconsciously, find it awkward to be around me when I’m talking up a storm, particularly about things I really care about. I don’t feel like a misanthrope, and it’s not that I don’t have friends, it’s just always felt a little hard… like I’m not always sure when I’m allowed to show myself openly. I had a similar experience when it came to being romantically interested in women rather than men. Sorry, this is a little bit of overshare.” said Velma, looking embarrassed.

“It’s not at all overshare. I’m the one that asked you the question and you were answering it. I’ve always found other people difficult too. In my case, I found that people always took me as being unfriendly. Not all of that was imagined, in their case, in that I really have found it hard to trust other people since my childhood. Parental abuse will do that.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you Dr Banner.”

“Thank you. But some of it was also, as you said, reading unconscious behaviour as deliberate choices. Not to mention that, given my escape into science and logic to try to avoid confronting my own psychological wounds, people often found me obsessive over the things that fascinated me. The way they reacted suggested that that wasn’t normal, or even that there was something wrong with it. That and also, even when I’m not dealing with DID alters actually being empowered by mystical gamma ray nonsense, and it’s okay, I’m the world’s expert on gamma radiation, I can officially call it mystical nonsense, I can be quite changeable, whether it’s to adapt to fit my circumstances or in responding to how I’m treated.”

“Whereas with me, I guess I always felt… stuck. Like there is only one Velma Dinkley, and she’s insistent on everything that counts being the same, or being understandable or predictable, and that I’ve always been that rather than having that kinda ability to adapt to circumstance. Like I’m… limited in my range as a person.” Velma absent-mindedly ran her hand softly over some leaves stretching out over the side of the path.

“I would point out that one of your main drives in life is solving mysteries. Even if you start to see patterns in the mysteries and solving them starts becoming a little easier, that’s still a fairly significant change in context and individual details every single time, not to mention constantly interacting with very different people. Separately to that, though, I really do think that every person is, ultimately, limited in their range. We call many of those limitations ‘scruples’, and ‘boundaries’. Many of the things we can’t do, it’s because we don’t want to. Some of what we don’t want to do is highly individualised, and other people get confused because it involves something they really want to do. The problem there is not, then, that you’re personally limited in ways that somehow make you less capable than everyone else, it’s that many people are bad at not seeing their preferences as objectively superior, or even worse, objectively correct. I wonder how many times you’ve felt people have chastised you for not being the same as them.” said Banner. There were another few moments of silence as they walked.

“That and, whilst I realise this sounds like a platitude, even within our individual limitations, our potential for growth is so enormous and unpredictable that it amounts to infinite divisions of a finite space.” added Banner.

“If you want a really literal representation of that, I suppose there’s the fact that, by separating out the Hulk, your mind has effectively given birth to two complete yet distinct people.” said Velma.

“I suppose that’s true!” said Banner. There were another few moments of silence, broken slightly by the sound of Mr Benn and the Hulk’s conversation, and of other people talking and playing in the park.

“I meant to ask you, I’ve not known the Hulk for very long, and I don’t mean this disrespectfully, but I remembered him as being a much more consistently angry and less articulate person whenever I saw him on news footage or similar. Is all of that a result of his development after your separation, or is it something else?” asked Velma.

“It’s a little of both. Bearing in mind that the Hulk originated from my own psychological matrix, and reflected elements of that psychology rather than being some kind of imposed element, any separation would never really involve the entire removal of every element associated with the other. In other words, making the Hulk separate didn’t mean he lost access to any of the rest of our shared intellect, in the same way that I didn’t lose the stores of anger and resentment that created the Hulk, or my dissociative tendencies. But, having been in the driving seat whenever anger or high excitement was involved in my waking state, and having resented me for so long, they’re aspects that the Hulk wasn’t used to tapping into, though other of the gamma personas were able to do that. Hulk has been gradually pushing out into the rest of our shared memory and capacity since we separated, and indeed that’s come a long way since I saw him last. Mr Benn has clearly made him very comfortable in exploring what else the Hulk consists of, even if the Hulk does still worry that he isn’t a real ‘person’. And yet, just as you are very much a fully rounded human being still seeking to understand her own limits and her own place, he is absolutely a fully rounded person growing and experimenting and changing.” said Banner. They watched as the Hulk started enthusiastically pointing out various plant species to Mr Benn ahead of them, and smiled.

“So, is hanging out with the Hulk and Mr Benn going to be a continuing thing, at least in the medium term?” asked Banner.

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Like, a lot of thought. Mystery Inc is kind of on hold for the foreseeable future, though we’re all still good friends and we still spend time with each other. I’m not working for NASA anymore. I don’t have a partner at the moment. I don’t really have a lot of commitments to suggest sticking with where I am at the moment. I suppose the only thing I’ve been worried about is that, both of them are slightly closer to the action-packed side of hero work, albeit in different ways, and I’m much more at the cerebral end of things? Am I really going to offer them anything that will be useful, given that they don’t seem to get an awful lot of straight up mystery-detective type material?” said Velma.

“Well, if they’d like to keep teaming up with you, the two of them clearly feel that you offer something important to them. My advice is that, hero work as a whole is often problem solving. Sometimes the answers are easy to find but difficult to implement, which is your big intense action moments. But often it’s the answers that are harder to find, like with a mystery. You never know what you’re going to get on a given day. I mean god, Velma, if Batman can keep being one of the major members of the Justice League, I really can’t see why you’d be out of your league with Mr Benn and the Hulk’s more lighthearted stuff. It’s not as though I’m useless to the Avengers without the power of the Hulk, either.” said Banner, with a slightly wicked smile at the end.

“That’s a very good point, Dr Banner. I did actually meet Batman a couple of times with the rest of the gang and, he really is a very excellent detective, I admire him a lot. The idea of being the Batman to Mr Benn and the Hulk is pretty amazing, really. Sure, I’ll give it a shot!”

Chapter Text

“Just to make sure I’m clear on what we’re heading into, this is the best guess for the homeworld of a poorly documented human civilization in a distant star cluster?” asked Velma, who was also rifling through her pockets to make sure she didn’t forget anything before the trip.“That’s the plan!” said Mr Benn, who was confident he hadn’t forgot anything but had to fight the impulse to follow Velma’s lead in going through everything.

“What is Benn’s choice for subjective arrival time?” asked the Hulk. He didn’t have any pockets.

“That’s a good question. It’s actually going to be ‘now’, from the perspectives of you two and your home time periods, rather than in the future or the past. All of the information I’ve run into about these humans suggests a ‘contemporary’ date. Aside from everything else, that alone had me rather intrigued. I can’t quite imagine a situation leading to humans in any number away from Earth in the early 21st century, let alone at such a vast remove. And we’re off.”

The transitions of Benn’s jumps through time and space were usually abrupt, and this was no different. The landscape of Dayton, Ohio gave way to what could only be described as a tableau of fields and rolling pasture. There was a noticeable but not unpleasant heat in the air, something along the lines of a Mediterranean summer. Birds flew, insects teemed, and there was a distant sound of running water. No people were in sight as of yet though. There were stone houses and structures visible in both the near and middle distance, so people definitely lived here, they just all didn’t seem to be here at this particular moment.

“Benn put us in middle of nowhere!” said the Hulk, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“You’re not wrong, Hulk. It’s the fact that there’s so little known about this people, it made it hard to get more specific than ‘somewhere on this habitable body around this star’…”

“I mean, for what it’s worth Mr Benn, even navigating between planets across this distance is pretty impressive, having to account for stellar drift and everything else involved.” said Velma, who was clearly enjoying the novelty of being on another habitable planet besides Earth, even if it was not quite as alien-looking as she’d imagined or hoped.

The trio scanned around the arcadian landscape, hoping to spot some more defined form of human habitation than housing and agriculture and unwilling to simply let themselves into someone else’s house uninvited. Then, suddenly, two figures appeared. Appeared was the word, because all three would have sworn the figures hadn’t been there until suddenly they were. At closer examination it was a well dressed human walking beside an elegant robot of some kind, whose chassis gleamed in blue and silver.

“Combination of diagnostic architectural features and robotic form not unprecedented, but Hulk still somewhat surprised.” said the Hulk, who was somewhat surprised.

The human and the robot were clearly walking towards them, so there was no question that First Contact, such as it was, was about to take place. Was it going to be smooth sailing?

“Bozerno! Vos falais Linzanostri?” asked the human as he got closer, in what seemed an almost deliberately calming tone of voice. There was a moment of silence.

“Erm… non?” said Mr Benn, who was hoping he was acting on a hunch rather than taking a wild stab in the dark.

“Ah. On mominto quis. Otonomia, tu putrus turn on the translation tool? I think we might need it here.”

“Very good, it should already be functional.” said the robot. Velma had just noticed that they had an elegantly formed metallic moustache, and was trying not to get distracted by all the questions immediately formed in her head.

“Ah, yes, I rather think that’s done it!” said Mr Benn enthusiastically.

“Aha! Hello to the three of you! Welcome to our planet! My name is Ilio Silandari, and this is my assistant, the beneficent Otonomia.”

“Charmed.” said the eponymous Otonomia, doffing what turned out to be a hat, rather than a part of his chassis.

“How very nice to meet you. I’m Mr William Benn, these are my close friends the Hulk, and Velma Dinkley!”

“Hulk honored to act in unsanctioned role as cultural ambassador from Earth to strange unexplained other human world!” said the Hulk enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you both!” said Velma, who was now slipping into the familiar space of just rolling with whatever odd things kept happening.

“This must seem a somewhat strange question given our arrival but, if I might ask Mr Silandari, what planet have we arrived on exactly?” said Mr Benn.

“When I saw a party of humans teleporting onto the planet, I had a feeling you might ask something like that. It’s actually a simple-seeming answer that will probably lead to further questions. Formally it’s usually called Taranova but it’s often simply called Tara. As the semantic field of the translator is quite sensitive and will *not* have conflated the two words in question, I will have to specifically tell you that Tara has the same underlying meaning as your Earth, which is also our original home planet.” said Ilio. He paused to allow that announcement suitable drama.

“I mean, I suppose I’m not surprised that you’re ultimately from Earth, given the time period we’re in and that you look human but we’re not on our own homeworld. But even so, I have to admit that’s a fairly wild thing to encounter, even for me!” said Velma.

“Yes I was meaning to come to that,” said Ilio thoughtfully, “Just to get a few potential misunderstandings out of the way, this isn’t a situation where our origins offworld are some disputed matter of myth or legend among our people, or where the location of Earth, our original homeworld, was lost. This isn’t one of those stories where some true knowledge needs to be imparted to a well-meaning but otherwise ignorant set of lost genetic cousins out in the wilderness. We rediscovered the location of Earth several centuries ago, and have been keeping occasional tabs ever since. What makes me curious as to your arrival is that, according to our last check in, the human civilization on Earth remains principally confined to a single planet, and certainly doesn’t exhibit such exotic technologies as precision tachyon-bloom teleportations! I suspect there’s quite a bit of additional context you’d also need to explain, Sinor Benn!” said Ilio. Otonomia was remaining tactfully silent but was nodding his head at key moments to add emphasis to what his companion was saying.

“I think that’s entirely fair to say, yes!” said Mr Benn.

“Well then, rather than catching up in the middle of the township of Ovila, beautiful countryside as it might be, might I invite you to come back with me to my place in Attinova? As well as being somewhat more comfortable and sheltered, I can also offer refreshments. Otonomia is particularly proud of his Sitentrioni pita.” said Ilio, flashing a cheeky but fond glance at his companion, who inclined his head in such a way that strongly suggested a somewhat bashful pride at the compliment.

“By all means,” said Mr Benn, “We’d be delighted, I think it's fair to say!”. The other two nodded. And then in an instant, the fields were empty once more.

Chapter Text

Ilio and Otonomia’s house proved to be quite pleasant indeed. Its decoration was inviting and homely rather than ostentatious, and also remained elegant. Its walls were colourful but calm. It was tidied enough to look orderly, but it was still obvious that actual people lived there. Ilio and his guests had sat down in some sort of living room while Otonomia had retreated to the kitchen.

“Colonia Caesar Augustus you say?” said Mr Benn, looking thoroughly intrigued.

“Indeed, in our modern rendering Zargostos. They abducted the entire city, down to the cows and goats. Goodness knows why.” replied Ilio. He had looked at ease the entire time since he had first appeared in the field, but Velma rather thought he’d transitioned from a kind of enforced, rigid calm to genuine relaxation as he’d spent more time with them.

“How extraordinary. There is a city on Earth that was founded as Colonia Caesar Augusta and is still there presently, which has become Zaragoza or Saragossa, depending on who you ask. I suppose they’re essentially the original city’s twin, in a sense…” said Mr Benn, who was starting to get thoroughly absorbed in this wealth of new information. He had often found classical history interesting at school, and a slightly younger version of William Benn was coming to the fore.

“If Hulk can interrupt Benn for a moment,” said Hulk, apologetically but firmly, “Hulk has important contextual question surrounding abducted Romans’ socio-economic model. Roman Empire on Earth give rise to entire model and language of imperialism. Hulk would appreciate clarification on matter as pertain to Space Romans.”

“That’s an interesting question. Our scholars could use a dose of whatever it is turned you green and large, my friend. We don’t have an Impirador anymore, as we did in the old days, and we don’t go around the cosmos conquering other species, nor enslaving people. On the other hand, the Coinonia is an overarching government not only of this planet, but the other five settled planets of our civilization and their associated star systems. So, I could say that we’re internally hegemonic but not interested in extending such hegemony over others beyond those already part of our society?” said Ilio, who had genuinely given his answer a lot of thought. Hulk thought about this answer for a moment, then nodded his head in understanding, although not necessarily approval.

“Going from the societal, and the historical, to the current and the small-scale, I should perhaps give you more context as to myself. I am a Vizil of the Coinonia. That is to say a watchman, to clarify it for the translator. It is my responsibility to investigate potential threats against the community of both this planet in particular and our civilization as a whole. That is why I have access to teleportation technology, and is why it was I who greeted you when you arrived on our planet. Teleportation is a relatively controlled technology in our society, and your method is considerably more sophisticated than our own, so it immediately drew my attention. I was glad to find that you not only meant no harm but also had no real knowledge of us in the first place. In other words, you having malicious motives is distinctly unlikely”

“When you say investigate,” began Velma, “Are we talking detective work?”

“The job description doesn’t really mention it except in the vaguest terms, but in reality, yes, it involves a lot of detective work on the whole. As such, it’s a respected rank in our society but not a particularly well-liked one, particularly not by those with wealth and means.” said Ilio, who somehow looked a little more long-suffering while saying that.

“I can definitely relate to that. Detectives sure aren’t popular with the rich and powerful. Then it sort of becomes a question as to how much you actually feel bothered by that.” said Velma with a sly grin. Ilio laughed.

“Well said, Sinora Dinkley, well said.” 

An impish look suddenly came into Ilio’s eye.

“I realise this is a bit much to ask of people who barely 40 minutes ago had no idea my society even existed, and maybe a little cliched, but might I perhaps interest the three of you in helping me in a little of my ongoing detective work?”

“I mean I’m always going to be tempted to say yes to a mystery, so I’d better give casting vote to my friends here.” said Velma.

“I would be delighted to help.” said Mr Benn.

“Hulk not bring Detective hat but will do Hulk’s best.” said Hulk.

“What kind of mystery are we talking about here?” asked Velma conspiratorially.

“The Amandi family had a valuable ‘family heirloom’ stolen from their home. They’re absolutely adamant it be retrieved but are unusually reticent to actually provide any details about what this heirloom actually is, or whether there’s anyone they suspect as having stolen it. It’s both an important case due to the Amandi family influence but also one where, due to their lack of co-operation, very little resources have been put into solving it besides myself and Otonomia.” said Ilio.

“Won’t our existence as sudden arrivals from your people’s ancient homeworld cause something of a stir?” asked Mr Benn.

“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on making that fact evident to people unless it becomes completely necessary, I mean that is if you’re not planning on staying here in a long term capacity.” said Ilio.

“Hulk not exactly archetypal example of ordinary puny human…” said the Hulk dubiously.

“Hulk, you replaced Darius III, King of Persia, for quite some time with absolutely nobody noticing. I think we can risk a handful of people here.” said Mr Benn, decisively.

“Wait, the Hulk… stood in as a Persian Emperor?” began Velma.

“It’s an excellent story that is best shared at a later time perhaps.” said Mr Benn, indulgently.

“Now that all of this has been agreed, I would suggest heading to the Amandi residence as soon as possible… after Otonomia has finished making his pita. He’d get a little upset if we were to skip it, and besides, I’m not entirely sure that the Amandi will particularly feel inclined to feed us…”

The pita having been eaten, and thoroughly enjoyed, the party set off. This time teleportation was not used to arrive at the Amandi residence, both due to local regulations and because it would put the Amandi family in an immediately hostile mood. Instead they were taking the Caraito, seemingly the equivalent of a municipal transport system not entirely unlike a train, or a large trolleybus. Not only had the Hulk drawn absolutely no attention to himself whatsoever, somehow the far more ‘normal’ looking Mr Benn and Velma were both drawing considerably more intrigued or suspicious glances. Some things really were a total mystery.

“Are there any major characters in the Amandi household we should be aware of?” asked Velma.

“The matriarch of the family is Silia Nitacris Amandi, who often insists on being called Amanda like some ancient aristocrat. It’s not unlike calling yourself The Benn, or The Dinkley. Sharp, irritable, and not altogether unimaginative, even in her old age. There’s numerous of her children who come and go from that house, of which the only notable ones are Poblio d’Imeli Amandi and Orelio d’Imeli Amandi, the former for his somewhat successful career running an interstellar courier firm, and the latter for his somewhat irreverent lifestyle that attracts a certain kind of hanger-on. Fortunately with all the alarm going on at the residence, we’re unlikely to see any of his groupies. Finally, it’s worth flagging up Lattandia Borsari, the head of the residence’s staff. She’s a very capable logistician and extremely professional, but also sees just about everything that goes on in that house. She remains my great hope of achieving some kind of breakthrough despite the family’s lack of co-operation.”

“I would also like to supplement a persistent suspicion that one Sophos Barbiari, a frequent visitor to the residence, is a pseudonym for the villainous Zalbador Firari, but one we have been unable to prove thus far.” said Otonomia, who stroked his ‘moustache’ thoughtfully.

Alighting at the town of Bioval, the Amandi residence was a relatively short walk away. Even for those with no context for the planet’s history and its society like Mr Benn, Velma, and the Hulk, the minute the residence became visible it was clear to see it was attached to those with significant resources and status. An entire semi-rural estate surrounded a house that was considerably larger and gaudier than Ilio’s own apartments. It had struggled to retain dignity in the face of what looked like decades or centuries of additional decorations and extensions, and in that struggle the house had not entirely succeeded. The end result was a multistoried house, brought out into two wings, where older decorations primarily hewn into stone or embellished with ceramic had been swamped in various filigrees. Part of the roof had what looked like golden strands coming down on either side of the main entrance, looking like an impossibly gaudy willow tree that had been parted. While it was not to the tastes of any of the five who approached the estate’s entrance, it certainly communicated a concerningly dense confluence of power, privilege, and pride. Ilio took a second to straighten out his clothes, less a genuine correction to misaligned clothes and more a ritual akin to applying warpaint. Then, he walked up to the front gates, and politely asked for ingress.

Chapter Text

Gaining ingress proved the easy part. Almost immediately upon entry, into a main entrance hall almost as gaudy as the exterior, a loud and seemingly endless verbal brouhaha broke out, principally directed by Ilio and the sharp, austere figure that was Silia Amandi. It seemed like things were going absolutely nowhere, so Velma took that moment to take out her opal charm. Even if this felt a little more scientific than magical in nature, it couldn’t do any harm to check and see if anything supernatural had gone on, especially with no leads. There was no reaction from the charm, but there was a reaction to the charm from Silia Amandi when it caught the light.

“You there, strange woman! Let me see that jewel!” commanded Silia. Velma would normally have refused something that imperious, but a hunch told her that accepting was the right move. She walked over to Silia and showed her the opal, carved into the shape of an owl.

“What a beautiful sarmin this is. You are a devotee of Minirva I see. Minirva is welcome in this house, and I will accept the questions that you, as a fellow devotee, would ask of me. Only her, nobody else. Is that perfectly clear?” asked Silia. Ilio inclined his head in such a way that communicated grudging resentment to Silia, and an enthusiastic ‘go right ahead’ to Velma. Silia directed Velma to a small parlour room elsewhere, and the impulse behind any continued argument departed with the family’s matriarch.

“How about we try and divide and conquer the remaining major protagonists here.” suggested Mr Benn.

“That’s a good idea. Mr Benn, Orelio. Hulk, Lattandia if you can find her somewhere. Myself and Otonomia will try and make some headway with Poblio.” What ensued, then, in different parts of the house and with differing atmosphere, were four separate conversations.

Velma and Silia had sat down in some over-elaborated but not uncomfortable chairs, in what Velma presumed was many of such small, semi-private parlours within the grand house. It was built to make her feel small, but Velma was used to people trying to make her feel small.

“What is it you would ask of me?” asked Silia. She was a little easier than with Ilio but it was still like talking to a battleaxe.

“I understand that what has been stolen has wounded your pride, and for a woman who has so much to be proud of that’s really saying a lot. I’m not going to ask you what it is that was taken, I’m going to ask you why it is that you fear it being taken. If it was purely sentimental I doubt you’d have accepted any outside intervention at all and simply found your own way to get it back.” The smallest hints of a smirk passed on Silia’s lips.

“That is a pertinent question, little Sofia. I fear it being taken because what was taken has purpose. Potentially dreadful purpose. It is a thing that my family has been entrusted to guard, and hide, for countless generations. It is a thing that, in ancient times, the government of the day rejected using except in the direst of situations, and a temptation that the Coinonia of present times must not be presented with. I cannot allow it to remain at large but neither can I allow it to come into the hands of one such as Vizil Silandari.”

Elsewhere in the house, the Hulk had found Lattandia ordering about other servants.

“If you’ve come to ask me questions about the secrets of this house, I’m afraid you’ll be wasting your time.” said Lattandia, who was now beginning to inspect several bottles of wine with a device presumably telling her crucial information about the contents.

“Does Hulk look like Hulk interested in aristocratic gossip? Hulk not here for breadcrumb of scandal among privileged and exalted, lady. Hulk here because new friend is in need of help, and also because Hulk has forgotten detective equipment and can no longer rely on extreme power of enigmatic intellect.” said the Hulk. Lattandia paused to consider what he had said for a moment.

“If you don’t want to find out the secrets of the Amandi, then what value am I to you in solving the crime that Ilio Silandari has been ordered to investigate?” she said, continuing to investigate various bottles.

“Does lady think sole value to rest of society consists of access to employer? Lady has senses and skills. Skillset chosen on basis of utility for maintenance of aristocratic lifestyle and privilege, perhap, but lady not dependent on employer for personal value.” said the Hulk, crossing his arms for emphasis. Lattandia paused again.

“My one insight I can provide you is that, what was stolen seemed perfectly mundane, but the way in which the household has reacted to their theft suggests that there is something more to them, but if there is something more to them, it’s something that’s never been shared with anyone outside of the family.”

Otonomia and Ilio stood in the entrance hall still, talking with Poblio, the ‘respectable’ son of the family, who was having a drink.

“I have a suggestion, if I may. Rather than ask a version of the same questions I’ve asked several times before, how about I try a completely different set altogether.” said Ilio. Poblio sighed.

“Ilio you know perfectly well that were matters less complicated I would be perfectly forthcoming with your earlier questions. Sure, try some different ones, perhaps they’ll be ones I’m in a better position to answer.” he said with a sigh.

“At first I thought perhaps the reticence over how this mystery heirloom was stolen was a simple matter of family pride, both the embarrassment of the theft and of involving anyone outside the household. Perhaps that is still a part of it. But, would I be anywhere close to the matter if I said the main embarrassment was not the theft itself, but the precise manner by which the theft was achieved? There was no break-in, no sign of forcing the house, and even with the limitations on such technology within this place none of my sweeps showed any sign of anything truly exotic going on. Would I be near the mark if I suggested that this was an inside job? I’ll go further Poblio, I think it has to be someone outside of the family who somehow gained its trust, which as I’ve discovered myself can’t have been easy. Someone who gained the family’s trust, or maybe even only one of the family’s trust. It certainly wouldn’t have been anyone actually part of the family, Silia would have unleashed all of Infirno’s demons upon you if you’d even thought about stealing something from her. Am I anywhere close?” The last question proved somewhat rhetorical. Poblio’s face and body language had told Ilio and Otonomia everything they needed to know. The pair began to walk off.

“Don’t drop me in at the deep end Ilio!” begged Poblio, who realised that he’d given away far more than he’d wanted.

“As far as I’m concerned, Poblio, a bird whispered it in our ears. Don’t worry.” said Ilio, waving to Poblio as he went to find the others.

“Tweet tweet.” said Otonomia to himself.

Mr Benn found Orelio by himself in yet another oversized reception room of some kind. He had noticed Orelio’s expression amid the earlier arguing, and had a distinct hunch that he was firmly committed to.

“When did you realise it was him?” asked Mr Benn, gently. Orelio looked up at his face. Resistance lingered for a moment before it broke down at the relief of having someone to confess to. Orelio almost started crying.

“He suddenly disappeared from everything that same day. I realised it almost immediately, but I didn’t want to believe it.” said Orelio sadly.

“Did you already know who he really was?” asked Mr Benn.

“Nothing you could prove, nothing that said for sure ‘my partner is a wanted criminal for multiple crimes’, let alone that he was Zalbador Firari. But he appeared and disappeared so quickly from my life at times, I often had no idea where he was for most of the day. And his friends always had a slightly… scary side to them.” Something about how Orelio had said that suggested that he’d spent more than a few moments having to be brave whilst having been very frightened indeed.

“So what do you think he actually wants? Money? Revolution? Or does he just want to make things blow up and for people to run away screaming?”

“Something he couldn’t hide from me is that he really does hate the Coinonia, not because of any wrong the government has actually done to him, I don’t think, but because he thinks they’re frauds to the kind of power they claim. That rightful rulership is bought by power and earned by deed. He often talked about what it meant to be a real, born king.”

“Did he call you his prince?” asked Mr Benn, softly. Orelio looked down. That told Mr Benn everything he needed to know. He put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“We’ll fix everything that we can, Orelio. I can’t make him the person you thought he was, or stop this having happened, but we’ll stop him before he succeeds in whatever his plan is. We won’t allow his taking advantage of you to be used for evil. You have my word.”

The group reconvened, and together assembled the story of what was going on.

“The item was stolen by Zalbador Firari, who took advantage of Orelio’s trust to gain access to the house.” said Mr Benn.

“Poblio knows that, and others in the family might, and are so humiliated by it they have no idea what to do.” said Ilio.

“Missing item has significance hidden from household at large. Regarded as heirlooms or common items by household staff. Even important visitors likely kept in dark.” said the Hulk.

“The item is genuinely dangerous, something the family has been guarding for centuries to keep out of the wrong hands. But only Silia knows exactly what its significance is and she isn’t sharing.” said Velma.

“Zalbador believes in some kind of might-makes-right, might-makes-kingship ideology, and disappeared after taking the item completely.” said Mr Benn.

“Whatever that item is, is so dangerous Silia mistrusts the Coinonia getting their hands on it, to the point of mistrusting you getting your hands on it, Mr Silandari.” said Velma.

“Inescapable conclusion; puny would-be-strongman knows deeper significance of object. If shiny object was objective, many shinier objects in places less guarded than big house. Heirloom chosen purposefully.” said the Hulk.

“Agreed,” began Ilio, “and if he understands that the object is significant for more than just family pride, he likely intends to use it in whatever capacity as soon as possible before he can be caught.”

“Ilio, are there any big events due to happen today that revolve around the Coinonia or the history of your civilization in some way?” asked Mr Benn. Ilio thought for a moment, then swore.

“The Greater Poplaria. A large portion of the Coinonia’s body will be present in Porteton, it’s the nearest city to here. He’d easily have had time to reach the city by now. We need to go, now.”

The group ran outside at Ilio’s lead. While they were running, he was talking using some communications device.

“Porteton Control, this is Vizil Ilio Silandari, I am calling in an imminent threat to life in the city, authorisation Atimis Oseanus Fabrigator Six Six Nine. I am ordering an immediate civilian evacuation of the core metropolis. Will be on scene imminently.”

Just as Ilio finished saying the last sentence, they were outside of the Amandi estate, and the group suddenly teleported into the middle of a densely blocked city, presumably Porteton. For a few moments everything seemed normal, and then sirens began to wail. The sound of increasingly panicked human voices came from all directions, and people began to stream out of houses and businesses towards designated emergency teleportation centres.

“There’s a decent chance that when Zalbador realises what’s going on, he’s going to try to put his plan into motion early! Especially given his personal ideology, the greater the adversity the more he’ll try to fight to the bitter end!” shouted Mr Benn over the noise.

“You’re not wrong, but without knowing what his plan is I can’t take the risk of collateral damage, especially if we actually have to confront him with whatever artifact he’s managed to steal for himself!” said Ilio, similarly struggling to make himself heard over the crowd.

“I’m going to go up and take a look!” said Mr Benn, who had been putting on elements of his battle suit for the last few seconds. He activated his jetpack barely seconds after the armour covered his body and face, and shot up above the line of the city’s skyline. A vast, not unlovely metropolis stretched out before him, while various instruments inside the suit fed him information of various kinds. He made sure he was linked to whatever devices Ilio was using, and settled in to wait.

For the next few minutes, Benn kept glancing around the horizon, unwilling to let the smallest irregularity pass his notice, but nothing seemed to happen. Then one of his instruments read a strange fluctuation a few kilometers away.

“Ilio, are you seeing this?” he asked.

“Yes, but I don’t understand it. It’s like your tachyon bloom but both cruder and far, far larger. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” replied Ilio with distinct concern.

Mr Benn was just about to say that he’d fly over and take a closer look, when suddenly, at the point in the distance where the energy readings were continuing to spike, a colossal figure simply burst into existence. It was in the shape of a human blown up to vast proportions, perhaps a hundred meters tall and towering over the city, with silver, gleaming skin, accented with bronze, gold, and black features across its chest and face. In what felt like a heartbeat after it appeared, well before Benn could say or do anything, an overwhelming shockwave burst out, with debris flying everywhere. The thrusters on Mr Benn’s suit were barely able to compensate, it was like being suspended in a hurricane.

“Are you alright up there?!” came Ilio’s voice.

“Just about, it’s starting to calm down now! Did you see that?” replied Mr Benn.

“I couldn’t see anything, that shockwave just took out most of the communications in the city! What was it?”

“Let me show you…” said Mr Benn, who transmitted the precious second of clear footage he’d taken before the shockwave. There was a moment of silence. The figure was becoming visible to Benn again as the cloud of fine debris dissipated.

“Artimis above… I know what that is, I think. It’s a Talos. I thought they were a myth! I grew up with stories about them, that they were built to defend the planet from the return of our original abductors and then retired when it was clear that all was safe, many, many centuries ago…”

“I think it’s safe to say that they’re definitely not purely mythical! Whatever ‘heirloom’ it was that the Amandis have been custodians of, I think it’s safe to assume it’s used either to summon or outright control this Talos, don’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But… these things were built to stop entire armies and invading fleets! What can we do to actually stop it long enough to find Zalbador and stop him controlling it?”

“Hang on, I’m coming back down.” said Mr Benn. He found the others sheltered behind some kind of vehicle on street level, except for the Hulk who looked fairly unconcerned, albeit excited.

“Hulk, it’s time to cut loose a little bit. We’re in need of your expertise!” said Mr Benn. The Hulk grinned with a trace of audacity, but then turned to Ilio.

“Hulk need answer to two questions! Is giant shiny silver man precious to Space Roman culture, and where is nearest space that is Not Big City?” asked the Hulk, cracking his neck and his muscles.

“I… sorry, you’re going to try to fight that? I mean… sure, I suppose the Taloses were meant to be our ultimate protectors and are quite meaningful to our history, so if it came to it it would be better if it wasn’t permanently damaged? I don’t see how that’s even a possibility right now though. The nearest fully empty spot… is about 15 kilometers to the south-east? It’s a large meadowland that used to be used for ballot counting back in the day?”

The Hulk nodded at this important information, and began loosening his muscles.

“Are you seriously going to try to fight an ancient, technologically advanced war machine that’s the height of a thirty storey building? Higher, even!” said Ilio, who was understandably somewhat confused, and also suddenly under a great deal of stress.

“When in matters of combat, try not a word in Hulk’s extensive vocabulary.” said the Hulk with a final grin, before launching himself into a great leap that carried him straight over the nearest buildings entirely.

Ilio’s mouth was slightly agape.

“I take it our esteemed viridian friend is a little more than simply taller than the average homo sapiens and somewhat unfond of clothes above the navel.” said Otonomia with an almost unconcerned sniff.

“You certainly have a gift for understatement Otonomia, that’s for sure! This is some of the stuff you folks missed when you were ‘checking in’ on Earth most recently. There’s a decent chance this monstrous robot is actually under Hulk’s weight class! Right, Mr Silandari, I think it’s time for us to get to some serious detective work! Hulk is going to buy us time to find Zalbador so we can stop this, and avoid anyone getting seriously hurt. Mr Benn, do you want to head back up so we can keep an eye on how the Hulk’s doing?” said Velma, taking charge of the situation.

“Splendid, let me know if there’s anything else I can be doing!” said Mr Benn, who took off again.

“So, Mr Silandari, Otonomia, I don’t know how a lot of Mr Benn’s technology works yet, which also means I don’t know how a lot of your tech works either. But right now we’re going to work out where Zalbador is, and we’re going to start by either of you explaining to me the core principles behind your teleportation technology!”

Far above, Mr Benn was once again keeping watch over the city. He could see the Hulk leaping dozens of meters in single bounds with ease, drawing closer to the ponderous figure of the Talos, who hadn’t really even started moving yet. Whoever was piloting? controlling? directing? the vast war machine was clearly inexperienced, but even an inexperienced operator could do immense damage simply with the vastness of what he was controlling. Hulk’s instinct to remove the machine from the city entirely was not only understandable, it was the only real choice. As Benn was watching, he saw the Hulk take his final leap to get into position in front of the robot. There was a pause, then with the force of a missile the Hulk erupted from a street below the Talos, impacting on the robot’s midriff with an enormous crash. With all the raw might that the Hulk had to hand, the impact did more than stagger or knock over the Talos, it launched it into the air like it weighed almost nothing. The force of the Hulk’s impact sent a small shockwave through the air again as the Talos was knocked away, the Hulk leaping after it through the city.

“I’m sorry, what?” Benn heard Ilio say with the comms still open, and he couldn’t help himself smirking. He loved it when the Hulk got to surprise and impress people, and this was a rare opportunity to cut loose.

“Right, sorry Sinora Dinkley, where was I,” began Ilio down on the street, recovering himself. “So, the power for that massive a teleport translation is probably split between conventional reactors on board the Talos itself but also a little something extra on whatever artifact Zalbador Firari has that allows him to control it. Teleportation technology on that scale cannot simply rely on applying more energy to the solution, it requires a connection to a human mind in order to guide it.”

“So there’s a decent chance that he isn’t actually on board the Talos, but actually controlling it somewhere remotely. In fact the way I see it, Mr Silandari, he has to be somewhere else. That robot would be almost impossible to safely pilot from inside, the forces of any kind of serious impact, let alone strong movements, would be potentially lethal. Plus, of course, that’s space that you can use for more punchy, explosive things and such.” pointed out Velma.

“Also, that robot is not stored somewhere under the city. He would have had to remotely teleport it in from wherever it’s stored. In a nutshell, whatever artifact he’s got his hands on is much more complex than just an on-off switch, it’s a full blown remote connection to the Talos.” said Ilio, who was focusing a little better with Velma to bounce off of.

“If I might make a suggestion. We robots have no knowledge of the Taloses any more than yourself, Sinor Silandari, but we understand how robots built with our civilization’s technology work. A Talos will certainly be advanced, but I very much doubt it will actually utilise outright superior technologies to our own, it will simply be utilising either technologies that are in temporary abeyance or, in the greatest likelihood, be substituting efficiency with raw size and mass. And even in the current era, a single mind piloting a chassis of such colossal size would simply not be able to casually control such a giant. There would need to be some sort of vestigial capacity in the war machine itself. There is a significant chance that this artifact is essentially forming a telepresence connection between the machine and Mr Firari. That would firstly imply that, shorn of such a connection, the Talos would likely not continue carrying out any instructions sent to it previously and would become harmless. It would secondly imply that it is quite likely that, given the Talos’ original purpose in contrast to Mr Firari’s heinous ones, that there is a degree of mismatch between operator and robot, leaving the former with much less control than one would ordinarily have. I wonder if he might require a line-of-sight connection with the Talos.” said Otonomia. It was by far the most Velma had ever heard him say out loud in one go.

“So let’s see if we can’t test that hypothesis. Mr Benn, is the Talos still functioning?”

As Velma asked that, she heard the distant sound of a tremendous crash.

“I would certainly say so Velma!”

“Okay, so if he has line of sight, it has to be somewhere that can both see where the Hulk and the Talos are right now, and where the Talos appeared originally. Mr Silandari, is there anywhere in the city that has that kind of vantage point, along with a direct line of sight to wherever the Greater Poplia was due to be held?”

“Working on that right now… I really hate trying to do this under time pressure. Okay, so, there’s only one place that could actually see all of those places. The observation storey of the Faros they built for the millennium celebrations. All of my connections to the city’s infrastructure are still down and I don’t trust teleportation with potential interference. Sinor Benn, can you see into that observation deck from where you are? I don’t know how he’d have avoided the compulsory evacuation sweeps but that’s the only place that makes sense.”

“Let me take a look… going through my different lenses here. Okay, yes, there’s one person on the inside of that observation deck, and there is definitely an exotic power signature starting to leech through that building. That looks like our fellow.” said Mr Benn.

“If you wouldn’t mind coming back down here a second, Sinor Benn,” began Otonomia, “I’ve taken the liberty of hastily creating a telepresence dampner device. It’ll be quicker than trying to gain ingress into the Faros, and less risky than trying to smash through the glass. It should work within two kilometers of Mr Firari, but probably best to get within five hundred meters just to be on the safe side.”

As Mr Benn descended back to street level again, with the sound of distant cracks once again audible in the distance, Otonomia produced a small device that, presumably, was the improvised dampner.

“Thanks a lot old chap. Five hundred meters to be sure, you said?” said Mr Benn.

“That’s my recommendation, yes.” said Otonomia.

“Right you are, I’m off to go stop him then. See you shortly!” said Mr Benn, ever cheery in the face of excitement, who then shot off towards the immense structure of the Faros some distance away.

When Mr Benn drew close to the great structure, he took a moment just to check that the Hulk was alright in the far distance. As it was, he needn’t have checked, the Hulk was wrestling the Faros to the ground with almost contemptuous ease, no matter how much the silver titan tried to prise him away. Mr Benn returned to the task at hand. He was fairly certain he was within two kilometers now and the Talos hadn’t stopped, so evidently Otonomia had been right to be sceptical of the dampner’s range. He raised himself to the height of the observation deck and there was Zalbador, presumably. His vision seemed somehow unfocused, and each of his hands was covered in what looked like the most exquisite pair of silver gauntlets, under which his fingers were moving furiously. This, presumably, was the heirloom allowing him to control the Talos. However, Mr Benn had clearly come into effective range, as Zalbador’s vision refocused on his surroundings, and looked at the silver gloves in confusion. He then spotted Mr Benn hovering outside the observation deck window. Zalbador was clearly considering some final act of defiance, as he immediately pulled out a firearm and aimed it straight at Mr Benn. Mr Benn didn’t flinch. He had stored the dampner elsewhere in the suit, rather than holding it anywhere where Zalbador could have seen it, and he was confident in the suit that he had made for himself. This planet might have been much more advanced than the contemporary planet Earth, but Mr Benn’s suit was his distillation of all the useful technologies he had encountered in years of adventuring. His faith in it was representative of his faith in himself.

Despite Mr Benn’s face being behind a helmet, and his expression invisible to the would-be-king pointing a gun at him, something clearly came across about how outmatched Zalbador was, both in resources and in resolve. The man who had researched the forgotten Talos for over two years, committed whatever acts were necessary to gain the tools to find and control the vast silver titan, who was used to evading the forces of the Coinonia, lowered his gun. He was beaten.

Chapter Text

“Given what we’ve been doing so far, this looks kinda pedestrian for you Mr Benn.” said Velma. They’d arrived in front of a fairly ordinary looking walled garden, in the middle of the countryside, and it did look mundane compared to the trio’s recent adventures.

“Appearances can be somewhat deceiving Velma. I received a message from an old friend who lives here that something untoward is going on, so we’re going to take a look and see what’s going on.”

Mr Benn went to open the gate, and then stopped himself.

“Oh, silly me. Herbidacious.” he said, seemingly speaking to nobody in particular. However, after uttering that word, the gate opened itself. Mr Benn walked into the garden, before beckoning to the other two to follow.

“That more like usual style.” said Hulk, carefully squeezing through the open entrance to avoid damaging the wall.

“It’s always something different with you two isn’t it.” said Velma, faux-rolling her eyes, who followed the other two inside. The garden itself seemed quite tranquil, almost bucolic at first, but then Velma noticed angry little sparks coming from her owl charm. The Hulk sniffed.

“Distinct wiff of brimstone. World’s worst egg sandwich. Gross!”

Before there was any further chance at investigating, however, a rather elegant lion walked into view, with a mane of verdant green that almost looked plant-like in its own right.

“William old chap, you came! Thank you so much!” said the lion.

“Not a problem in the slightest. Everyone, this is Parsley the Lion, Parsley this is Velma Dinkley and the Hulk.” said Mr Benn.

“I didn’t realise you came with friends these days William, how excellent, although I had heard you’d given the chaps down at Trumpton a hand with those beastly conquistadors. Charmed to meet you both.”

Parsley gave Velma and the Hulk an interested glance, and practically did a double take at the Hulk.

“Goodness me, you’re a fine specimen of a herb aren’t you?! I want whatever compost they’ve been giving to this one…”

The Hulk laughed indulgently.

“Hulk not herb, Hulk personified incarnation of passionate emotion! Silly cat.”

“Do excuse me. It’s an easy mistake to make… As for you my dear Ms Dinkley, I don’t believe we’ve ever met, but we have many mutual acquaintances, it’s good to finally meet you!” said Parsley, effortlessly moving on from his mild faux pas.

“Hi! If it weren’t for the fact that you’re feline, I’d almost take you for one of Scooby’s extended clan of relatives.” said Velma, who privately considered that introducing a notoriously gluttonous dog to a cat partially made out of herbs would be an exceedingly bad idea.

“Now then Parsley, I’d ask what this is about but I think it’s fairly obvious it’s something of the supernatural persuasion.” said Mr Benn. As he was saying that, an empty flowerpot casually hovered across the length of the garden before disappearing into some undergrowth.

“Yes I did rather suspect it would become obvious upon your arrival. I must apologise, it’s so terribly indecorous to have your magical garden turn into some sort of eldritch incident, most unbecoming. To be more precise, old chap, it’s got a whiff of the… diabolic.” said Parsley, who dramatically arched his eyebrows at that last word.

“That’s almost certainly why you’ve been smelling brimstone Hulk. Well, I have a little experience with that sort of thing at least. Have any entities of that persuasion shown up?” asked Velma, rolling up her sleeves.

“One or two, I’m sorry to say. Their behaviour has been distinctly unbecoming! The one I’ve managed to keep track of has been hanging around the greenhouse behaving most frightfully, and chased poor Dill into the big house. He’s normally a bag of energy but this is a little beyond our brand of nonsense. I don’t suppose you might know how to get rid of it, do you Ms Dinkley?”

“It might depend what sorta entity’s shown up, but I’ll do my best.”

“Oh marvellous, how marvellous! Let me show you where it’s been hanging out…”

It didn’t take long. As the gang approached the greenhouse, a series of sulfurous swirls began to form, and at their centre was a great fanged demon, with a bright blue face on an equally bright red body. The demon had noticed the arrival of Parsley and his companions, and drew itself up fearsomely.

“MORTALS, DARE NOT APPROACH THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE FORM OF NIGEL THE EVANESCENT, ARCH-BARONET OF THE LEFT HAND CORNER OF - oh wait, is that you Velma?” said Nigel, whose voice suddenly became distinctly normal-sounding. The sulfurous swirls half-heartedly dissipated.

“Oh, it’s you Nigel! Fancy seeing you here. Spooking creatures in a magical countryside garden seems a little low rent for you.” said Velma.

“Well, it’s a paying gig innit,” said Nigel, somewhat bashfully, “It’s not my bright idea to come along and distress mild-mannered creatures of sorcery and nature, but if there’s a guvnor paying me to do it, I’m gonna go and do it int I?”

“Far be it to impugn upon your professional obligations, Nigel, but is there any chance we could get you to move elsewhere?” asked Mr Benn.

“Velma’s an old mate, if this were some charitable gig I’d happily depart this coil and leave this greenhouse be if she asked. But there was forms filled and everything, it’s a paid gig through the usual channels like I said. Now obviously, being a duly summoned diabolic apparition, I of course can and would expect attempts at exorcism and disapparition, I’m relatively senior in my branch you understand. However, seeing as it’s you Velma, I’ll settle for one light anti-demonic ritual with appropriate gin-gan-goolie-goolies and whatnot. I feel that’s only fair. Can’t expect me to settle for less than that.” said Nigel, crossing his arms.

“I suppose not,” said Velma, “Give me a sec to prepare something quickly.”

“Might I ask, Ms Dinkley, do you in fact know any anti-demonic rituals? I thought your general activities were confined to the mundane criminal in disguise as various urban legends, cryptids, et al?” asked Parsley.

“I remember a few bits from time spent around my ex’s crowd. That and really I don’t think Nigel’s going to mind too much so long as I put on a good show of it.” said Velma.

“Velma also have charm. Charm not like demon things.” said the Hulk.

“Good point Hulk, good point! Alright guys, I might need you to follow my lead with some chanting and such, that alright with everyone?” asked Velma.

“My dear, if it would banish this demon from my garden, I would happily do a full lip sync routine to Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball. It would astonish onlookers for miles.” said Parsley.

“Alright then, here goes…” Velma pulled out her owl charm, which had gone from sparking to an angry glow, “Demon of the Nether Reaches! Apparition of the Underworld! Disturber of the Peace! In the name of all that is peaceful and bright in this world, I command you to depart!” Velma dramatically raised the owl charm in her hand, gesticulating it at Nigel. His apparition began to roil and heave, and he wailed dramatically.

“Ominous chanting now guys!” cried Velma.

“Everyone match me with a hum at D! Aaaaand chant!” led Mr Benn. It was not perhaps the largest source of dramatic chanting but the Hulk’s deep register more than made up for it.

“Nigel, Arch-Baronet of the Left Hand Corner of Brimstown Central, I command you to depart! I reject you, and cast you out! By the power of my charm I beseech ye to come and disturb these quarters no more, begone!” cried Velma. WIth dramatic brimstone swirls and other effects, Nigel’s form began to dissipate. He had time to flash Velma an enthusiastic thumbs up before, with a final dramatic cry, he departed the mortal realms.

There were a few moments of silence and peace.

“Well, that went pretty well I thought! Capital job, Ms Dinkley. Now we just have to do that for the other one.” said Parsley.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot you said there was another one. Before we move onto him, can I just ask, Mr Parsley, what is even bringing in demonic entities into this garden in the first place? If it’s a ‘paying job’ that means somebody deliberately summoned Nigel, and whoever his colleague is, into the garden in the first place. Do you have any idea who that is?” said Velma.

“Well yes, that is a rather pertinent question. I’m afraid to confess that I absolutely haven’t the foggiest idea who it might be, or why? I mean these days the garden is relatively obscure, even after we started doing National Trust tours in the summer season! I can’t imagine there isn’t better magical gardens to be terrorising with demonic entities out there.” said Parsley.

“Hulk smells scent of mystery in addition to brimstone in air.” said the Hulk, gently nudging Velma on the arm in support.

“Then a mystery it is! Let’s set to work everyone.” said Mr Benn.

Chapter Text

“While I remember, Mr Parsley, what actually happened to the other demon?” asked Velma. She was compiling notes, and absent-mindedly playing with the lid of her pen.

“Now I’m dreadfully embarrassed to say that I’m not entirely sure. Amid the sudden pandemonium, alarums, excursions etc I only managed to keep aware of what happened to, erm, ‘Nigel’, by the greenhouse. Now that’s a thought… I wonder if old Tarragon the dragon saw anything, he’s a little easily discombobulated sometimes but he is a little more fearsome than the rest of us after all. Maybe he has some idea of where the other demon got to.” said Parsley, who began calling for Tarragon. There was no response initially.

“Now I can’t imagine that Tarragon, of all people, would have been sent running off by what appear to be fairly punch-clock demonic apparitions, from what I remember of him,” said Mr Benn, “I wonder where he’s gotten to.”

They all turned at the sound of a roar in the near-distance.

“Loud noises! That where the action is!” said the Hulk, who began to bound towards whatever brouhaha was nearby.

“That’s fairly impeccable logic, all things considered. No wonder he’s the cerebral one of the three of you.” said Parsley, as he, Mr Benn, and Velma kept pace with the Hulk.

What they came upon was a fairly surreal sight. A multicoloured dragon of green, yellow, and bright pink, who could only be the eponymous Tarragon, was charging headlong at a rusty red humanoid figure with three eyes, a great hairy collar, and what looked like armour on their limbs but could just have easily been segmented, arthropod-like limbs. The figure, who was likely the second demon, was still making a vestigial show of defiance but was clearly utterly outmatched. As the others watched, the presumed-demon began looking more and more panicked.

“My my Tarragon, I forgot how indomitable you can be!” said Parsley.

“Oh hello Parsley dearest, I’ll be with you in just a second! I’m just teaching this silly little goose a lesson about trespassing.” said Tarragon, as casually as though he were simply having a spot of afternoon tea. Mr Benn saw that this was the time to intervene.

“Hullo again Tarragon, nice to see you again! If it’s at your convenience, could I persuade you to temporarily pause your remonstrating with our mephistophelian rapscallion?”

“William! It’s been a spell lovely, how fabulous to see you, how nice! Pause my remonstrating? Whyever for dearest heart?” asked Parsley.

“We want to see if they’ll give us any information about who summoned them here and what overall purpose might have been.” said Velma.

“Aha, how terribly sensible of you lovelies!” replied Parsley.

“Persuasion somewhat difficult with dragon chasing silly goose all over garden.” said the Hulk, in what passed for honeyed tones with him.

“Dash it, that’s quite a fair point. Very well lovelies, I shall temporarily pause the excitement, although I promise nothing if this ‘rapscallion’ does anything to test my temper!” said Tarragon cheerfully, which only made the sentiment more intimidating.

They all turned to the demon, who had no visible mouth and yet was clearly out of breath.

“What do you want with the Great Boraghast, probationary vice-regius of the Lower Quarters?” said the demon, in an attempt to be intimidating.

“Now now, it’s no good being haughty like that, it’s best not to risk aggravating our friend Tarragon here all over again.” said Mr Benn. On cue, Tarragon gave a great roar.

“Look I’m only doing me job! It’s basic procedure pulling the old intimidate-the-mortals trick, no need to take it personal! Some flaming job this has turned out to be and all. Me and Nigel get the call for a standard-rate Bothering and Distressing for some country garden. A country garden?! A country carnival of magical nonsense and terrifying beasts I say! First I get yelled out by a bloody great owl, whose tree I’ve apparently disturbed, and then I’ve been chased all over by this dragon!” said Boraghast exasperatedly. He’d clearly been having something of a day.

“That doesn’t sound like a fun time at all.” said Velma sympathetically.

“I realise work isn’t all fun all the time, but there’s a difference between tricky work and work you’re not being paid to do! Or being given a contract under false pretenses.” said Boraghast, sniffing.

“Silly goose should stand up for basic working conditions to employer!” said the Hulk encouragingly.

“I’ll do just that, oh they’ll see. I’ll talk to me union rep and we’ll see about slipping me dangerous fracases as a standard B&A! Hah!”

“Now, we’d love to let you go and do that. One should never stand between a working stiff and asserting their rights, after all! But in order to do that, I’m afraid we need a little bit of information.” said Mr Benn.

“Well, see, the difficulty with that is that, it’s highly irregular, I’m only normally authorised to grant information with officially sanctioned Faustian Bargains, summoning rituals et settera.” said Boroghast, who started wringing his hands. He jumped as Tarragon roared again and snapped his jaws.

“Maybe it’s difficult, sure, but I don’t think we can keep our friend here cooled off for very long.” said Velma, fully embracing the dynamic of good cop, dragon cop.

“Oh alright alright, just keep him off me will you! There’s an underworld dimension out there somewhere missing its bloody guardian alright… Alright, so what do you want to know.” said Boraghast.

“Who summon silly goose and colleague Nigel to magical garden?” asked the Hulk.

“Some local twerp from around these parts. Lord Hellebore’s his name. Think he’s only one or two estates away from this one. Says he’s got some kind of rightful claim to Sir Basil’s property but can’t get it recognised in court or some such nonsense. I stopped listening a fair old bit into his rant to be honest. But I think the basic idea was me and Nigel would keep bothering everyone until they vacated and the old Lord Hell-a-bore’s mob would move in. Wasn’t surprised he resorted to diablerie, he seems like that old money sort who goes in for the old mystical arts alongside the Latin and the collecting culturally insensitive objects d’art. That all you need me for guvnors?” asked Boraghast, nervously eying Tarragon.

“I think that about does it?” said Mr Benn, checking with the others, who all concurred.

“Oh thank g- I mean, err, thank goodn- I mean, great. Anyone mind if I put in ‘discorporealised by a fearsome magical dragon as my Reason of Return? No? Alright, I’ll be off then, cheerio.” said Boraghast, who departed with a great deal less drama and ceremony than Nigel. He was evidently more than happy to risk the blemish on his professional record.

“Well I have to say that was all quite a lot.” said Parsley.

“Oh Parsley my love, don’t fib just because you’re in front of new acquaintances. You and I both know you’ve been absolutely convinced that Lord Hellebore was a bad egg from the moment you laid eyes on him, and that you use deadpan humour to deflect from emotional engagement!” said Tarragon sweetly.

“Goodness Tarragon, whatever are you implying you old wyrm you.” said Parsley.

“So I take it Lord Hellebore is some kind of… distant relative? rival? of this garden’s owner Sir Basil?” asked Velma, who had once again taken out her notebook.

“Technically a distant relative, I believe, and definitely believes himself to be a rival. Although if Sir Basil were actually in any way discomforted by him I don’t know that we’d be able to stop him grabbing the shotgun in time.” said Parsley.

“He’s always been a total nuisance, but has never had the brain to go with his ambition, or any self awareness whatsoever. Unreflective, repetitive, malicious. Quite the golden boy.” said Tarragon.

“So if he’s a distant relative, and I think he must be because I know most of Sir Basil’s extended family, then why does he think he’ll be able to take control of the property if everyone leaves the garden?” asked Mr Benn.

“He believes he has a feudal right to the property through some obscure title he allegedly inherited. It’s not entirely unlike if England were to suddenly attempt to insist on getting Calais back from France. The man wouldn’t actually understand law relating to titular inheritance if it came up and bit him on the right cheek of his bottom, but regardless. This, however, is something of an escalation for him, I must say. How terribly vulgar.” said Parsley.

“Hulk assume foreshadowing for confrontation with Boring Lord as denouement to today’s adventure?” said the Hulk.

“I suspect so! Who’d like to irritate an entitled member of the aristocracy?” asked Mr Benn, who was immediately answered by enthusiastic cries of ‘me! me!’ And so they were resolved.

Chapter Text

“Hulk not surprised at Boring Lord’s horrible taste, but Hulk still disappointed.” said the Hulk, shaking his head. He, Velma, Mr Benn, Parsley the Lion and Tarragon the Dragon were all staring up at Devil’s Claw Hall, the grand house belonging to Lord Hellebore. It held the bones of a somewhat grandiose Georgian manor house, and it was clear that its most recent owner had been unable to decide between cladding those bones in Gothic architecture so overwrought it was almost camp, and modernising into some soullessly smooth ultramodernist work that seemed allergic to anything other than right angles.

“You know, in hindsight, perhaps ‘Devil’s Claw’ Hall ought to have given me a clue. You’ll have to forgive me, dear friends, we deal with so many people with plant-derived names that working out which ones are significant and which ones are just meant to sound appealing to the modern era is occasionally troublesome.” said Parsley, bashfully.

“I mean look at me dear,” said Tarragon supportively, “I don’t know if anyone hears the name Tarragon and assumes a fabulously fearsome dragon!”

“Quite right. In any case, I suspect we’ll be seeing Lord Hellebore soon, he must have noticed the conclusion of the demonic rituals and wanted to see what would have happened.” said Mr Benn.

“How very perceptive of you, William Benn!” came a voice from nearby, one which either by coincidence or careful art closely imitated that of Charles Dance. The group all turned to see a figure striding out of the house in full formal wear, with a silver tipped cane in his right hand. This, clearly, was Lord Hellebore.

“So, you’re the one who’s been summoning the demons?” asked Velma. She already knew the answer, but it was always easier when the bad guy said it out loud.

“It has indeed, and I must say I’m not terribly pleased that the demons I summoned proved unequal to the task, though I must also congratulate you on your speedy dispatch of them. I clearly underestimated Basil’s cronies and support network. It is a mistake I will not be repeating, I can assure you.” said Lord Hellebore. As he said this, black fire began to swirl around him, and the air grew somewhat electric. Velma’s owl began to glow luminously in agitation.

“Pluck diabolic entity from out of Tartarus’ depth however many times Boring Lord wants, Hulk will not be overcome by desperate invocation of inherited grandeur by half rate aristocrat!” cried the Hulk, who roared and smacked his chest hard enough that there was a small shockwave.

“My oh my, I like this one, can we keep him?” asked Tarragon.

“We saw him first.” said Mr Benn with a smile.

The black fire surrounding Lord Hellebore grew in size and intensity until it grew several meters high. There was an intense popping sensation as the flames suddenly went out, followed by a wave of heat as a large demon suddenly appeared. This demon was considerably larger than Nigel or Boraghast had been, and also more fearsome looking. Its head was covered in a black helmet resembling a goat’s skull with great, fearsome horns, with fiery eyes visible through two holes. Either that or it was the demon’s actual head. Its body was sinuous and muscular, and coloured a deathly blue/gray, trending towards black in its extremities. On its chest it wore a complicated piece of black armour that had such a strong shine it looked lacquered. Overall, it was an impressive picture.

“Igleb of the Black Helm, I command you to overcome these enemies!” cried Lord Hellebore, smacking the ground with the base of his cane.

“With pleasure.” said the demon.

“I don’t suppose we could persuade you to leave?” asked Velma, before Igleb had had a chance to do anything yet.

“Don’t be daft lady. I’m being paid for this but I’m not one of your clock-watcher devils just here for the money, one of the jobsworths who’ll scramble just because daft bint’s asked them to. This is what I like doing, putting the fear of the nether realms in mortals! I’m not going anywhere willing-like.” said Igleb, with a growing haze of black fire surrounding him.

“‘Daft Bint’ is it.” said Tarragon quietly, who began to pace forward in a smouldering rage. However, Hulk’s hand gently blocked the dragon, and the Hulk shook his head. Instead, the Hulk stood forward in front of the approaching Igleb.

“Who are you supposed to be, a steroid-chugging Jolly Green Giant on a shoestring budget? Yield or be crushed beneath my boot.” said Igleb. The Hulk smiled. For all Igleb’s bluster and intimidation factor, they clearly weren’t that well connected down below. More than a few demons and devils had crossed the Hulk’s path over the years, and any of them who had done so knew not to do it again, and had told their mates.

“What does Benn reckon,” began the Hulk, “Is Goaty tough enough for Hulk to cut loose?”

The Hulk began to crack his knuckles.

“Oh I should think so.” said Mr Benn, who suddenly wished he had some popcorn handy. He noticed that Igleb’s confident gait faltered slightly, as though the demon realised that something was up. It was a little too late for that, however, as mere moments afterwards, the Hulk launched a sudden punch that hit Igleb square in the side of the face and/or helmet.

“Owww! Okay maybe not a shoestring budget then.” said Igleb, whose voice was steadily beginning to lose its swagger. Igleb was clearly no paper tiger, as the hit had ‘merely’ staggered him considerably, but that had been far from the Hulk’s strongest punch, and the demon was clearly not used to serious opposition.

“How about this then!” said Igleb, who launched a wild punch of his own towards the Hulk. Their flaming eyes grew wide as the Hulk easily sidestepped it, grabbed the arm, and carried the momentum into a full blown body throw. The demon snarled and leapt up again, but immediately met the shockwave of the Hulk hitting a tremendous clap that even made Devil’s Claw Hall shake. The force of that bowled Igleb over, and indeed had knocked over Lord Hellebore as well. The man made to get up but suddenly found his shoulders pinned to the ground by Tarragon.

“Now now, Lord Hellebore my love, don’t try to wriggle out of this one or I might accidentally tear off an arm or two!” sang Tarragon pleasantly.

Igleb was really starting to lose their wick, crying out in frustration as they picked themselves up once again. They were clearly an extremely sore loser.

“Come on then if you think you’re hard enough!” cried Igleb. Seconds afterwards they bowled over winded, as the Hulk had smacked them right in the stomach, or what passed for one for demons at any rate, and then crashed to the ground once more as the Hulk hit them in the face with a sudden haymaker.

“Yield!” cried the Hulk.

“Never to the likes of you!” cried Igleb, who raised themselves once again. All of a sudden they began some kind of ritual stance that drew up their black flames to enormous heights again, and caused their eye-flames to turn black in their own right.

“I don’t like the looks of that!” cried Velma, “You might be able to take anything that Igleb can throw but I’m not sure we can if they’re about to start some kind of destructive spell! Take this!” she said, pulling off her owl charm, which was now practically radioactive in its dislike of the demonic energies being flung around, and throwing it to the Hulk. The Hulk caught it, and pointed it in the direction of Igleb, whose flames began to dissipate as though a gale force wind were blowing them off him.

“Get it off, get it off!” cried Igleb, who was looking genuinely panicked at the charm.

“Goaty typical bully, happy to force others into powerless states but unable to cope with being made powerless,” said the Hulk, in a normal speaking voice that hit far harder than actually shouting, “and Hulk hate bullies. Contrary to reputation and appearance, Hulk extremely selective about which situation deserves violent approach, and careful about how far violence is taken. Against person of flesh and blood, care must always be taken. But Goaty not flesh and blood, Goaty localised, malevolent emanation of chthonic phenomenon. Goaty person, but level of acceptable violence relative to permanent damage much greater. Wouldn’t Goaty agree?”

“Yes, yes, what would seriously hurt a creature of flesh and blood would just inconvenience me, it still hurts!” cried Igleb.

“Goaty far too callous about inflicting pain on others to use that as defense. Goaty need a serious lesson in consequences.” said the Hulk simply. He formed a fist with the owl charm inside, and punched straight at Igleb.

“Oh sh-” began Igleb, who then suddenly disappeared, with their black flame dissipating into the air like ink into water. And that was that.

Some time later, Constable Knapweed came around to formally arrest Lord Hellebore, though not before writing down his list of various misdeeds in his notebook, not the least of which was Aggravated Diablerie. They watched as Lord Hellebore was put into a police van and driven away.

“Well me hearties, I suppose we ought to be getting back to the garden to fix the remaining mess that Lord Hellebore caused. If we leave it in its current state, Bayleaf the Gardener’s going to have an absolute fit, the poor lamb!” said Parsley.

“That and I suppose Dill will need a little bit of calming down even after everything’s finished, bless him.” said Tarragon.

“Might I ask, just for my own curiosity, you aren’t actually related to anything involving plants of any kind are you Hulk?” asked Parsley.

“Hulk has somewhat complicated origin story but no, mad science and gamma radiation Hulk’s general origin aesthetic.” said the Hulk.

“It’s a pity dearest, you really would fit in so nicely with everyone else green and fabulous in the garden.” said Tarragon.

“Well, Hulk will consider coming back for visits. Buy some overpriced local products at big house gift shop.” said the Hulk with a smile.

“Excuse me, that’s overpriced artisanal local products to you!” said Parsley with a wink, and then he and Tarragon were off.

The gang were just about to do the same when there was suddenly an electric feeling in the air again. A slender, elegant demon with bright aquamarine skin and white hair suddenly appeared, dressed in an old fashioned red suit.

“Excuse me everyone, I’m Taisa the Garrulous, might I borrow a moment of your time? Three of our employees have been working around you today and I wondered if we might check how you felt all of that went?” asked the demon pleasantly.

“Oh no, she’s hot.” mumbled Velma to herself.

“Hello Taisa, my but that was prompt! We only defeated the third of those employees within the last half an hour or so, I can tell you’re eager!” said Mr Benn pleasantly. A hitherto unseen tail of Taisa’s detached itself and raised, and Velma could almost have sworn she saw a little flush in Taisa’s cheeks, not that she was paying attention to her face at all.

“That’s very kind of you to say. So, might I ask for any general opinions or feedback you might have?” asked Taisa again.

“Hulk have some feedback.” said the Hulk.

“ohnoit’sthehulkOf course, I’d love to hear your feedback!” said Taisa.

“Hulk not have high opinion of your workplace! First, you accept contract for two demon haunting magical garden! As far as employees know, is license to punch down! But then you also not inform demon that magical garden is more fearsome than it seems, and abandon employee to be chased by fearsome magical dragon! I hope employee talks to union about this. Last but not least, you keep on staff highly unprofessional Goaty demon, who thinks he’s next Big Bad, is not professional demon at all but instead gleeful bully.”

“Oh dear. I’ll pass those complaints on to my manager and hopefully we’ll be able to get that sorted, I’m sorry you had an unsatisfactory customer experience today. I must be off now!” said Taisa, who vanished back into the ether in perfumed smoke.

“You know Hulk, of all the things that are unique to you, managing to frighten demons by leaving bad reviews might actually be the most extraordinary.” said Velma with real admiration.