Iron Crown
by DuAnn Cowart
Disclaimers: The Authority and all associated characters belong to DC/Wildstorm and were created by Warren Ellis and Bryan Hitch. I am not receiving any economic benefit from this work. Buy this book. It's a fun read.
Author's Note: AUTHORITY 13 SPOILERS. This is primarily written without the benefit of Issue 13 and only polished with information from that storyline. Most of it was just extrapolated from what I gleaned from interviews and a small online preview. I was still fairly precognitive, dangit, even though I *didn't* post this in time to look that way. ;)
Feedback would be wonderful, and can be sent to: ibelieve@rocketmail.com
This one's for Grym.
"HAWKSMOOR!"
The radiotelepathic shout reverberated through the quiet of the night, jolting the recipient of the message out of the peaceful repose of hard-won slumber. Powerful legs instinctively kicked aside thin cotton sheets as the tall sleeper shot up abruptly, still groggy after only a scant few hours rest. Jack Hawksmoor, guardian of the cities and new leader of the Authority scrambled to his feet, eyes glowing red in the dim night lighting of his quarters.
"Midnighter? Report!" His usually gravelly voice was even thicker with sleep, but even as he spoke one bare arm was immediately reaching for the black suit neatly folded on the chest beside his bed.
There was no answer.
"Midnighter? What's wrong?" Jack struggled into his clothing, then fumbled with the zipper of his everpresent dark slacks, usually nimble fingers still clumsy with sleep.
"We need you in the Control Room. There's a little matter. . . with a camera crew." The Midnighter spat out the words as if they stung, and Jack could almost visualize the other man's masked visage twisting in a grimace.
Jack paused, one arm raised high above his head, white shirt tangled over his head. "A *U.N.* camera crew?" Jack asked, worry clouding his features. 'That's all I need right now, some bastard from the Secretary General's office trying to come do some impromptu inspection.'
"No." His teammate hurried to correct him. "No, it's not the U.N. Just a television news Crew. That. Won't. Leave." Disdain and frustration dripped from the dark man's voice.
It was all Jack could do not to sputter as he rapidly pulled the shirt over his bare chest. "A television crew. You're up anyway, can't you handle it? After all, you're the bloody *MIDNIGHTER*."
The answer was a single, resounding "NO."
Jack sighed. "Can't you put Midnighter, do you know how many damn interviews and television shows and magazine photojournalists we deal with every day?" Jack drew in a deep breath. "Of course you do," He answered himself blearily. "Stupid question. But what's so damn special about this one that you can't handle it and let me sleep?"
There was a long, awkward pause. "It's not as simple as that. You'll understand when you get here." The frustration and anger in the Midnighter's growl was enough to convince Jack.
The other man had dealt surprisingly well with all the publicity the Authority's recent change in direction had elicted, but apparantly he too had his limits. Whatever this was had to be particularly tricky, and the Midnighter was many things, but he was not a diplomat.
Jack put his hands flat against the wall of the Carrier, wishing as he had so many times that it was a true city to commune with. The Carrier was large enough to sustain him, give him life, but it could not truly express the joys and sorrows his own cities shared with him. Jack banged his head gently against the wall, considering his options.
One. Crawl back in bed and sleep. 'Yeah, and have the Midnighter go ballistic on some poor unsuspecting television reporter and have to do spin control for the next six months. Heh. The U.N. would have a field day with that one.'
Two. Have someone else do it. 'That'd certainly endear me to my teammates, and it's the middle of the night for Jackson and Christine, too.'
Three. Go down and deal with whatever the situation was himself. 'Shit.' He hit his head lightly against the cool metal of the Carrier, sensing her odd amusement at his behavior. It almost made him smile.
In a terse voice, he told the Midnighter. "Entertain them for a few minutes and I'll be right down."
The Midnighter's relief was almost palpable. "Good. I don't know how much longer I can-"
Jack exhaled sharply. "Midnighter, dammit, be nice to them for another few minutes. The last thing we need is bad publicity right now."
"But Jack-" There was more than a hint of petulance in the words.
"Do it." He cut off the link before the other man could protest, murmuring silent imprecations to himself.
'He handle it a few minutes longer. If I go out there in this mood, I'll cause more damage than I'll avert.' Jack flung his suit coat to the floor and fell on the bed with a sigh, head thrown back to stare blankly up at the wired metal ceiling. Lying spread eagled across the rumpled covers, he ran a square hand through close-cropped receding hair, trying his best to smooth its spiky locks.
Jack drew in a deep breath, then punched the bed in frustration. The small physical release felt good, and Jack repeated the motion several times before burrowing deeper into the warm covers. He savored the rapidly fading heat for another moment before rising regretfully, pacing the length of his spacious quarters.
He glanced back at the bed longingly, then turned to study his reflection in an oval mirror Angie had insisted he hang on his wall. The rugged face that stared back at him was haggard, with dark circles rimming tired eyes and deep care lines creasing his brow.
'Shit, I'm one ugly bastard. And this is supposed to be the face of a superstar.' He snorted in something akin to disgust, then yawned. 'Damn, I need more sleep.'
His physical adaptations and communion with the cities helped a great deal, but augmented or not, he was still human. Even he required sleep, and that commodity had been increasingly more difficult to come by ever since he'd taken up the reins of leadership following the death of Jenny Sparks.
Jack shook his head. 'How the hell did I let myself get roped into this?' He sat back down on the edge of his bed, remembering the events of the last few months.
After Jenny's death, the team had been devastated. They had lost their friend, their leader, the vision behind their union. The Authority had been her creation, after all, her defiant answer to a world that refused to play by her rules. Jenny had worn leadership so easily and well that her shoes had seemed almost impossible to fill.
He'd been the only one surprised when the team unanimously appointed him to the task.
Bearing Jenny's final words in mind, he'd led the Authority to a fateful decision. Despite some reservations, the team decided to no longer focus on threats from external foes while evil flourished on Earth. Staring at the planet from the safety of the Carrier, it was all too easy to forget the individuals who lived below and only concentrate on threats from without, not those from within.
They'd all seen so much it was easy not to think of the millions of people suffering everyday. They'd all allowed themselves to forget what they were fighting for, and it was with no small amount of shame that the members of the Authority acknowledged this to themselves.
With the awesome power at their disposal, they couldn't allow such inhumanity to continue. After all, Shen had reasoned, cancer killed a body as easily as an axe did. Jack hadn't needed to see the glint in her eyes to know she was thinking of her parents, murdered in political coup so long ago.
So, in typical Authority fashion, the team had actively begun to take an aggressive role their planet's politics, and in doing so had won global acclaim and a place in the public eye. An intervention here, a carefully orchestrated rescue mission there, and all of a sudden The Authority became serious news. As Jenny had planned, saving the world-repeatedly, and letting them *know* about it- had already made the entire world more than kindly disposed to them.
It hadn't taken much more to make them full-fledged celebrities. One well-placed media blitz later and the public went Authority-crazy. The team was attractive, shiny and dramatic, and cameras adored them. All of a sudden, people began listening when The Authority spoke.
It made doing good a hell of a lot easier.
Even so, it had been easier for some members of the team to adapt to public life than others. Apollo and Angie, for example- Jack smiled fondly- had taken to the flashbulbs like ducks to water, and Shen, of course, had maneuvered through the mess with her usual grace, and he'd struggled through as best he could. It'd hadn't been so easy for the others. The Midnighter and the Doctor had proven notoriously difficult to deal with.
'Which might explain why I'm not fast asleep right now,' Jack shook his head, thick fingers idly playing with the material of his blanket. 'He's been doing so well, but I suppose some of those jackals are enough to try the patience of a saint. Midnighter's no saint.'
He winced, remembering some of the more personal questions he and his team had been subjected to. It had been especially difficult in the early days not so long ago. None of them had no diplomatic training, no experience in dealing with the media *or* the U.N. It was a miracle their plan hadn't failed in its infancy.
Jack smiled fondly, remembering the wonderful support and assistance the cities had given him in his task, guiding him towards the areas where their help was most needed, providing him opportunities to show the world exactly what The Authority could- and would- do. His cities- at their very mention a feeling of warmth and well-being swept through him, wiping away the last traces of grogginess and irritation at being awoken from bed.
Their approval at his team's course of action had finally wiped away all the lingering sense of guilt he felt at leaving them to work for the greater good, first with StormWatch, then with The Authority. He even felt absolved from a faint sense of betrayal at spending so much time aboard the Carrier so far from the cities of his home.
He was guardian and protector of the cities, and now he was finally in a position to do them some real good. They recognized what he was doing and encouraged him, flowing warmth and support to give him the strength he needed to both deal with the media and the U.N. and to still continue their real work. The cities knew what he was doing, and they loved him for it. 'Go on,' they seemed to say in the worldless murmur that only he could understand. 'This is important. We can handle ourselves while you help heal us all.'
He'd needed that support to deal with the barrage of problems their new path had created. Glossy magazine covers or not, the U.N. was in quite an uproar over the Authority's new direction. Instead of just a fifty-mile long home for seven- or six, now- human beings, the Carrier had become a place of refuge, a temporary sanctuary for human beings seeking political asylum.
That, along with the team's pro-active response to politics, had political ramifications that created such a tangled knot of international relations that governments, quite simply, were at a loss as to how to proceed. Even though the Carrier had been portioned off, with the Authority theoretically having little to no contact with the refugees, it was not unusual for Jack to be interrupted at all hours by the U.N. liasons appointed to deal with the refugees, or more unpleasantly, world leaders calling to threaten or cajole the team into backing away.
'It's either politicians or the media. One's as bad as the other,' Jack thought ruefully, rotating his shoulders to stretch tired muscles. 'I never thought I'd say it, but maybe I *am* glad it's just a camera crew tonight.'
Formal negotiations had not been, to put it bluntly, a simple matter. As a foundational details, the U.N. and its member states were at a loss as to how to treat The Authority. The Carrier was not a state, per se; even though it in theory satisfied the geographic requirements of statehood, the Authority simply didn't have the permanent population and legislative resources to sustain that status and could not be treated as such.
However, with the team's awesome resources and the tremendous good will of the world populace, the Authority still had a bit more leverage than the average run of the mill non-governmental organization. Even so, there had still been talk of treating the Authority as a terroristic group, but strong lobbying by organizations such as the Red Cross and Amnesty International had combined with the Authority's new found celebrity to buy enough time to deal with the issues as they arose. The team chose to exercise this considerable leeway by continuing to wipe out petty tyranny across the globe.
It hadn't been easy. Christine and Jackson had done their best to help with the situation, but despite their best intentions to the contrary Jack's attention had been increasingly required as of late. And that was on top of the pressures of leading the team.
'I don't know how she did it,' Jack thought morosely, feeling as always the pang of loss which always accompanied any thought of the late Jenny Sparks, his teammate and very dear friend. 'She made this look so easy.'
One side of his mouth lifted in a small smile. 'The first time one of those smarmy aides starting quoting treaty law to her or one of those psuedojournalist asked about her sex life she would have given them a jolt straight up the ass, and that would have been the end of that.' He laughed aloud, thinking of Jenny Sparks striking a sultry pose for a fashion magazine. 'Nah, maybe it's a good thing she's not here after all.'
Thinking of Jenny, as always, reminded him of the huge responsibility of leadership she had left him. Jack rapidly sobered. The Authority- and by extension, the world- now answered to him. It was a heavy crown to bear.
*He* was leader of the Authority. The Midnighter had awoken *him* out of his sleep tonight, and even through his irritation Jack had been heartened by the confidence in the other man's dour voice.
Two months ago this man had been his equal, his teammate, but now Jack bore the responsibility for his life. Whatever he ordered, within reason, the other man would do. It was power, pure and simple, and he knew very well how dangerous it could be. He'd seen the results of power corrupted first hand.
The Changers.
Bendix.
Rose Tattoo.
Jack felt a familiar wave of sorrow pass through him, and he shook his head resolutely. There would be no Bendix this time. *He* was no Bendix, that was for damn sure. Like Jenny, he would not allow the monsters to win. *His* team would not decay from within, would not twist and warp until it was unrecognizable as a force for good. As Shen had said, he'd changed, they all had, but life was still a treasure. And he was still, above all things, a guardian and protector of life in all its forms.
Midnighter. Apollo. The Doctor. Shen.
Angie. His cities. They had faith in him, they believed he was equal to the huge task that loomed ahead. They had faith that he, Jack Hawksmoor, little boy lost, would take care of them all.
He closed gritty eyes wearily, then opened them wide. Whatever the price, whatever the cost, he'd pay it gladly. He wouldn't let them down. There was too much riding on it.
Be it an entertainment magazine or the Security Council, Third-World dicators or even something as relatively minor as an interstellar invasion, Jack Hawksmoor and the Authority would stand firm.
They had to. They had to make the world a better place. Jenny had said so.
With that bittersweet thought in mind, Jack squared his shoulders and walked forward into whatever was waiting in the limelight.
Fin.
-DuAnn
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -John 14:27