Michael Batman: Epilogue

[sotongeistooc.livejournal.com]

The first thing is to give my mother a hug. It takes her back a bit, as we’re not exactly a physical contact sort of family. The second thing is to give my father the ODI scores, as he has his priorities. Obviously Bell’s 124 was the highlight.

My mother, ever-perceptive, suspects something has gone very wrong, or very right. How exactly does one explain that, through a spatial anomaly that created a momentary collision in potential timelines and dimensions, we existed at the very fringe of the possible, and came out of it on the other side? That I fought angels and demons and everything in between, voices sweet and promising and seductive, voices wailing in gibberish, voices snarling and threatening? That somehow we saved the multiverse?

It’s really not the sort of thing you talk about; now I understand why those who go through hell just want to move on. So I just say it has been a tricky sort of day, and go for a soak in the pool.

Bermuda is a special kind of place. The temperature always sits at a perfect 298 Kelvin, and the sea breeze takes any edge from the sun’s rays. The beaches are white, pure, the seas a dream of untouched azure. Aside from the odd tropical storm and major hurricane, it is a balmy, untouched paradise; a corner of a far-off land that is forever England. I make sure Emma is shown to the pool house; it’s a self-contained apartment and I want her to realise that this is a holiday – she doesn’t have to hang around with me all day. The only time we come together for certain is dinner. The jet lag might make it feel a little queer, as may the setting, but Sunday lunch is a tradition, even in the tropics.

I towel off and check the messages, staring out at the coastline in a rear terrace set for contemplation under drifting palms. There are already 68 unread, most not requiring urgent attention. A few are BCS reports – cryptids from across the world. Fewer still are K Section reports, cleaning up the questions we’d rather not answer, making sure we’re safe and it is, truly, over. And one is the message I have been expecting.

We first became aware of the other organisations several years ago, after the rattus rattus rex incident. They looked down on us, it was clear: they thought we were bungling meddlers. And yet now we have caught their attention in full. Somehow, our pioneering spirit and experimental attempts to delve into the paranormal has attained results they glance upon with envious eyes. In particular, I imagine a suit that is impervious to magic caught their attention.

They would like to talk. It’s an invitation. A seat at the table.

I turn off the mobile and sink into the lounger.

Perhaps after a long vacation. 

Comments

[lslaw.livejournal.com]

It was good to have Mike back for the last hurrah. It was good not to be the only one who was there at the beginning and the end.

Michael Falcon Batman, one of the originals, in every sense.

[sotongeistooc.livejournal.com]

I am like Angel in Buffy, back for a final guest spot.

You are not Buffy. You're either Giles or Xander. Be thankful for that.

[sl4irl.livejournal.com]

What a great character! I shall always have fond memories. :)

[lucifermourning.livejournal.com]

awesome - such a fantastic character.