Turn 13

The blast was intense, but not worse than the sand lashing Bfmaat had unleashed earlier. Even so, the Martian Mancer's exhaustion precluded any option but riding out the shock wave -- he loomed over, then slammed into the ground like the proverbial tree in the forest, the one that everyone hears. The earth shook and an immense cloud of sand precipitated into the air. He lay there like Gulliver among the Lilliputians, eyes half lidded and breathing deeply. Terry' sacrifice quelled any wisecracks that might have otherwise forced their way out of him.

Standing slightly apart from the others Eleanor has her eyes tightly closed, her hand holding Marguerite's to enhance their mental contact. She alone of the Leaguers is apparently unmoved by the devastation facing them.

In the seconds leading up to the blast Psyche had swiftly built barriers around Terraform's consciousness, enclosing him safely in his own cerebral fortress. With the French woman's help she protects him through the impact of the blast, buffeted by the waves of the explosion and the death throes of Bfmaat.

Now, in the silent aftermath, she extends her abilities far beyond their norm, relying on the newcomer's own aptitude, the etheric beings, and Heisenberg to nurture Terry's essence into expanding beyond the barriers and reforming his physical presence.

Unfortnately, even with The Master of The Improbable at their side the latter is impossible. The best they can manage is to hold onto his awareness. The burden is tremendous. Eleanor and Marguerite are pushed past the brink as they try to find someway to preserve Terry's consciousness at any cost. Their own thoughts and memories and emotions begin to erode as they make room in their own minds for Terry. His stream of consciousness washing away their own like a riverbed.

Eleanor's eighth birthday crumbles. Quickly followed by her first week at Uni. The pressure abrades the last month she spent trying despretely to keep her relationship with Anthony intact.

Marguerite's first kiss wears away. That lovely week with her younger paramour watching the clouds on The Valles Marieneris gone. The last month she had before the machines supported her life disentegrates.

Unwittingly, their sense of loss is broadcast to all.

Even as those sacrifices of hours, then days, and onto months are made the situation worsens. Several of the psychic beings that were also providing support for Terry crackle and blink from view. Gone with them whatever fragments of the Silicon Sentinel's essence they hold with them.

Heisenberg's powers are strained as well in the endeavor. Apparently even he has his limits. Without Terry or Bfmaat the portal back to Mars begins to close. Furthermore, his abilities are taxed by aiding the valiant effort of the two women. For the first time in what must be decades his well-polished demeanor breaks.

"I cannot aid the psychics and maintain the portal as well. I cannot imagine the child gave his life so willingly only to see more pain and loss be it's recompense. A decision must be made!" It's clear from the sweat beading on his brow that letting the portal close and damning themselves to a potential lifetime in Duat does not guarantee Terry's safe return. In fact the only guarantee is that Eleanor and Marguerite are destroying themselves....

Two lives for one. A City left without hope. A world devoid of its greatest heroes.

Pavel growled in frustrated impatience at the words of the villain on his shoulder. "HEAVEN FORBID A MOMENT TO CATCH MY BREATH." The Enchanteer lolled his massive head over. He recognized something of Psyche's loss of control in healing him in her current bid to apparently resurrect Terry. "GIRLIE, YOU REALLY NEED A SPEED BETWEEN 'OFF' AND 'FULL-ON.'" Something about the woman next to her seemed familiar, but Heisenberg's words rung home. His teammates seemed too overcome by Terry's sudden death to move. While Pavel had always been fond of the little sandcastle, there seemed little point adding his own sacrifice to the toll. Or the team's.

With effort he willed himself forward, gouging his crater into a trench before actually getting airborne. His arms flung wide, encompassing the team in his wingspan and drawing them in. Just short of the portal, he gave a gentle shove then reverted to normal size, relying on the imparted momentum to carry everyone through.

"Not much of a hero's burial, sandcastle," he muttered to the searing winds of Duat before he too pierced the veil between worlds.

Gaslight impassively watches the Martian Mancer herd the Liberty League members to safety.

GL knows Mason will feel like hell later, for goading Terry to his apparent doom. His guilt will be unjustified, for Mason had not pushed Terraform into battle; Gaslight had. Mason could never sacrifice an innocent, but Gaslight can and would send even those he holds dearest to oblivion, when the stakes are high enough. He doubts that the Leaguers will recognize the distinction between the Mason and his hooded alter-ego, or forgive either one of them for Terry's death. Nor would he expect them to...

Ignoring the pain of his broken ribs as they grind against one another and scrape the meat from his abdomen, Gaslight strides purposefully towards the rapidly closing portal between worlds. Pausing at the edge of the gateway, he scoops up a fistful of sand in each gloved hand. The iodine taste of his own blood is heavy on his lips as he bids a silent farewell to the alien landscape of Duat and a fallen hero. He finds the weight of his boots never so heavy as when he lifts them for that first step through the portal to home....

The journey between realms happens in an eyeblink. The Lair greets them with a long shadown stretching like a funeral pall across the lawn. Moonlight's lupine senses alert him to the presence of others and he rears into a fighting stance but stops as he sees the heroes instead of silicates.

The Norrises smile from behind the rogue as they see Deirdre step through with Rajni wrapped about her shoulders as per usual. Whatever allowed for the blending in Duat seems to be limited to that sphere, thankfully.

The parents exchange concerned glances to one another as they note Terry's absence. Ronan is the first to speak, hoping for the best. "Where's the l'il bugger? Is he hidin' as a critter in your pocket?"

Dee, who has hitherto appeared to be in shock, not even noticing her return to physical normality, bursts into tears as soon as she sees them.

Audrey moves to console her daughter, and now only child. Ronan does so as well. After she clears her throat, Mrs. Norris addresses her long-time friend, Zach. "What happened?"

"Audrey... Ronan... I'm sorry," Zach's indestructible composure shattered by the realization that the day he's long dreaded secretly has arrived. The day when he would lose a team member, when one of the League would die.

"Eliot's master, a silicate entity not unlike Terry, was en route to destroy all life on Mars. Terry sacrificed himself to stop him. He died a hero."

Zach's glance toward Mason suggests that his not relaying the exact cause of Terry's demise to the Norrises at this time may be the last favor he would extend his old friend. He hides the shock on his face as he realizes if Gaslight has a contingency plan in effect for Terry then surely he had one for all of The League. The two men would have to have a talk....

Gaslight's gaze matches Z's unwaveringly. He is certain he knows what thoughts are racing through his brilliant friend's incomparable mind, but he will not allow himself at this moment the distraction of self-recrimination. Though Mason would mourn Terry later, GL cannot afford to second-guess himself, now or ever.

In the midst of the stunned reunion on the Liberty League lawn, Pavel's heart beat gradually returned to normal. It was taking longer and longer these days. He cast a critical, though not judgemental, eye towards Gaslight. His father had always been a heartless bastard, putting winning above everything. It might have been the only thing Pavel had respected about the man. Where the others might have been feeling variations of disgust and rage, Mancer only felt a quiet sadness. The sand castle had deserved a better fate, hell, so did Gaslight. They might have used Pavel's controlled constructs instead...but then Pavel had never been one for post facto second guessing. Life is lived forward.

Heisenberg strode up next to him him, immaculate white gloves back on cane. "Your side seems ill equipped to handle the price of victory."

"Your side? _Our_ side cutpurse. Unless you coming back was some kind of improbability effect." Pavel eyed him appraisingly. "Hey, I see big changes for you. A big red 'H' on your chest, a little wind in the hair, such as it is..."

Heisenberg reddened. "The planet, perhaps reality itself..." He quickly regained composure, rolled his white-clad fingers. "You embarrass yourself, charlatan. Self-preservation, nothing more."

"You're right. Moonlight doesn't look like much of a girl reporter anyway. Keep those noses clean, gentlemen." Heisenberg eyed with distaste the shoulder Pavel clapped him on in passing.

Disorientated by the abrupt departure and arrival, for a second Eleanor wasn't quite sure where she was. With her grip on her own sense of self rapidly collapsing she forces herself to stagger towards the nearest entrance, pulling Margeurite with her. "We haven't got time for explanations," Psyche whispers desperately, hoping that she will be heard, "I can't hold on to him for much longer! Z we need you to extract Terry from us..."

"What?!? Audrey, Ronan come with me to the lab. There may still be hope!" During his mad sprint he presses a concealed button on his gauntlet triggering the computers to ready all data relating to Terry that they have at their disposal.

The two psychics dash behind him as well. The Norris' follow their scientific colleague to the best of their ability. Dee follows slowly behind to be as close as possible without interfering.

After an awkward silence Jack says, refering to Eliot who's still slung over his shoulder, "I'm gonna deposit this dwizt in the med lab. Much as he deserves a good beatdown no one should go through whatever the beasties did to him. After I'm done there, I'm gonna wear through the carpet pacing with Dee.

As he goes aloft he glowers at Gaslight, his appreciation for the man's skill noticably diminished. He pauses not sure of what to say. After a moment he decides upon a simple, "Dude, way uncool" before darting off through the Lair.

Gaslight frowns beneath his mask, but does not say anything in response to Shattrman's parting barb.

The weight of the situation can even be seen on the faces of the League's erstwhile allies. It's apparent that neither man has any intent of taking advantage of the situation. Heisenberg is especially saddened first and foremost at New Philadelphia's loss and secondly at his own shame for implying earlier that Terry may have been the source of the morning's attacks.

The Master of the Improbable clears his throat. "Perhaps, it's time George and I took our leave. This is clearly a family matter that should not be intruded upon by strangers."

"Actually," Gaslight replies, "I would like to have a word with you both in private." Glancing over towards the Martian Mancer momentarily, he adds, "If you can wait a few minutes, that is."

Striding purposefully over to stand next to Pavel, ignoring the pain of his broken ribs as he walks, Gaslight softly asks, "Mancer, do you by chance know that young woman I rescued from the pyramid?"

"Actually," Gaslight replies, "I would like to have a word with you both in private." Glancing over towards the Martian Mancer momentarily, he adds, "If you can wait a few minutes, that is."

Striding purposefully over to stand next to Pavel, ignoring the pain of his broken ribs as he walks, Gaslight softly asks, "Mancer, do you by chance know that young woman I rescued from the pyramid?"

"Yunh?" Pavel started, broken from his internal absorption. "Her? Dunno, seems like I do, but...what was her name?"

"She gave it as Marguerite..." Gaslight trailed off, his eyes narrowing as Pavel noticeably paled. He eyed the elderly mage expectantly.

"I knew a Marguerite once, long time ago, and damned if... she'd have to be her daughter, but no that couldn't be true either. I watched her. Die." Pavel blinked his inward gaze back to the three men, conscious of the bored look on Mr. Moonlight, and the aggressively interested look on Heisenberg.

"Yes, I know," Gaslight replies. "Or, rather, I knew that an old lover had watched her die. I only *suspected* you were the man in question." Fascinated by the implications of Marguerite's new lease on life and too exhausted by the day's events to consider the emotional impact his words might have on the Mancer, Gaslight presses on in a tone of voice that is remarkably casual under the circumstances. "I believe it *is* the woman you knew, not her daughter. She did indeed die, but her spirit was trapped in Duat. She was somehow physically rejuvenated when the souls of her fellow trans-mediums destroyed the temple. Very interesting, really. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Pavel chewed his lower lip, his eyebrows twitching violently at the thoughts clamoring for primacy in his head. "Ya, seeya next time Night Boy," he muttered and flicked his hand absently. The mutter was low enough that it was unlikely the villains heard. One might even say improbable.

Gaslight glides lithely away from Pavel and towards Heisenberg and his villainous companion, though the illusion of ethereal movement is somewhat spoiled by the absence of his swirling opera cape.

"Now, gentlemen," he quietly addresses Heisenberg and Moonlight, "if you'll accompany me, I should like to have a few words with you."

Unconsciously, Pavel had lifted off the ground. Like a shot from a cannon, his will exploded from the morass of introspective where-how-whys to the surety that the beautiful young creature Gaslight had brought back held all the answers. Whether it was true or not. The Martian Mancer's tattered greatcoat flapped behind him like Old Glory over Fort Sumter. The sand-scored hallways of the Liberty HQ flashed by as he speared towards Zach's inner lab.

Through the bay doors, his coat nearly snapped with his abrupt halt. On the other side of the bay, Zach worked feverishly, fitting Psyche with some complicated headdress. Dee and her parents, bless the senior Ms. Norris, were fretting in impotent angst nearby. But for all its expanse and marvelous technological workings, it might have been a closet containing only Pavel and Marguerite.

A beefy hand stole across his latter-year girth, a barrel chest that had decidedly descended. The efficient ventilation system tickled his scalp, his thin, stark white crew cut no longer mounting defense against even so timid an attacker. And her, her beauty -- he had never known her so young, and twenty five years ago and in her forties she had taken his breath away.

Any other man in his shoes would have sensed the Leviathan of humiliation looming about the room. Pavel strode forward energetically.

Zach seemed not to look up from his labors, "Uncle Pavel, I have nothing for you just now, but if you could download your backup image to a spare PDA and stand by, I might need you to extend our /tempus opportunis/." He flashed a quick, concerned smile. "You holding up ok?" but bent back to his labors without waiting for an answer.

Marguerite jerked at the name 'Pavel,' and seemed to only now closely consider the elderly man bearing down on her.

"Qui vous aiment, cheri?" he greeted her with a cinematically terrible German accent, his heart hammering uncontrollably.

Her eyes and mouth raced in an O-making competition. "Mein stout deutscher Junge," she murmered back in French-mangled German. Her eyes excavated the weathered lines and folds of his face and found the manchild beneath.

"Uncle... please. Your conversation will have to wait." Zach says. "I'll call for your talents if the Norris' and I should need your assistance." He shoos Pavel out of the room in a frentic frenzy as he begins the attempt to restore Terry to some semblance of life, somehow. As the door seals Pavel can hear Zach begin rattling mad ideas in the hopes one might solve what seems to be an insoluable dilemma.

He's never seen his nephew *this* motivated before. If anyone can bring Terry back from the dead, it would have to be "The Smartest Man on Mars." Right? Right...? For the first time doubts nag Pavel about Zach's ability.

Night falls on New Philadelphia, almost on cue, as if to answer Pavel's unspoken question....

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