Hull, April 14th, 2029.

David Elliot exhaled softly, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders as he allowed himself to cool down. All around him, soldiers were moving bodies, repairing barricades and clearing away debris, ready for the next advance.

“Dave!” he heard a familiar voice call. He opened his eyes, looking to see his friend Hell Blazer approaching him, the yellow pony’s trenchcoat looking worse-for-wear. The former John Constantine had never been one for wearing appropriate combat clothing - half the time, Elliot thought he wore the old clothes less because he liked them and more because they were some link to his old life, the man he had been.

“John,” he said, smiling. “Good to see you made it.”

“Good to have made it at all,” the former John Constantine said with a scowl. “How’d we do?”

“Numbers aren’t up yet, but we held the bastards off,” Elliot said quietly, “but it wasn’t easy.”

“Course it wasn’t,” Hell Blazer muttered. “Because this war isn’t in general, is it?"

Elliot nodded, smiling slightly. "Cheer up. We held for now."

He sat down on the hard ground, leaning against a wall. He'll Blazer sat next to him, lighting up a cigarette.

"So," Hell Blazer said softly. "What are we thinking the next thing'll be?"

"Next thing?" Elliot asked.

"Yeah," Blazer said. "You know - we've had attacks on Hull, Plymouth's a quagmire, you killed Applejack... what do you think they'll try next?"

Elliot glanced down at his friend, his smile souring slightly. "I'm not sure I wanna think about it."

"No," Hell Blazer said, nodding. "I suppose you wouldn't."

He took a drag of his cigarette, closing his eyes and savouring it for a moment. It was always a surprise to people that things like cigarettes and alcohol were still being produced - since they were hardly a necessity - but then again, without some way to blow off some steam, the human race, reduced as it was, would have wiped itself out.

Elliot smirked, before uncorking a small flask he carried and taking a swig of his own drink, a strong whisky. He coughed slightly, before putting the flask back on his belt.

"Sir!" one of the BDF soldiers, a shaven-headed man in a red uniform jacket and black trousers, called, jogging up to him. The man had pulled his gas-mask off, exposing his head - with the enemy driven off, this was ostensibly safe. Across his face, along the bridge of his nose and across his eyes, was a tattoo of a blue rectangle, representing the blue barrier that had protected Britain from Equestria's Barrier. This man was a member of the Long Watch of Britannia, one of the many militant cults of the British Isles, men and women who believed that the islands were sacred.

"What's your report, Watchman Peters?" Elliot asked.

"We've finished repairing the barricade," Peters reported. "What are your orders?"

Elliot frowned slightly, not entirely comfortable with the man. The Long Watch were one of the more... radical orders. Though they'd fight alongside ponies, it was well known that they were one of the group's the former HLF - especially former radical HLF - often found themselves part of. Human Supremacists.

"For now, take a count of losses and continue guarding this position," Elliot said. "I'll have Operative Heartstrings report here to take command shortly with Resistance reinforcements."

Peters nodded, to his credit not a bit perturbed by the mention of Lyra. He saluted and jogged off.

"Lyra's not gonna be happy with being left in charge of this lot," Hell Blazer pointed out.

"Lyra's not been happy since Bon-Bon..." Elliot began, then he trailed off, sighing. "I'll not leave her here in charge long - but she's got the best organisational mind I can think of right now, and we need it at work on this city's defences."

"Aye," Hell Blazer sighed. "Fair play then." He sighed. “She’s still gonna give you shit for it.”

“If that’s the worst thing that happens to me this week, I’ll be happy,” Elliot said with a chuckle.

“My lord?” a voice asked, cutting in.

Elliot and Hell Blazer looked up, both of them surprised at the voice that spoke. It was a young girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen. She wore a brown hooded cloak over battered, rugged clothes, and when they looked at her she bowed.

“My lord Albion,” she said softly. “It is my honour to be before you.”

“None of that,” Elliot said, waving a hand dismissively, a scowl on his face. He didn’t like the various cults that tried to deify him - he found it… disturbing. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sarah,” the girl said, straightening up. “I come to summon you.”

“‘Summon me’?” Elliot repeated. “Where? On whose authority?”

“No authority, my lord,” Sarah replied softly. “Merely necessity. He has seen you will come with me, and he has seen you will speak with him.”

“He?” Hell Blazer asked, frowning. “We playing the fucking pronoun game, now?”

“The Oracle,” Sarah clarified quietly. “He has seen that you will speak with him.”

Hell Blazer’s eyes widened in shock. “No. No, that’s not possible.”

Elliot threw him a questioning look.

“The Oracle’s some bloody fairy story,” Hell Blazer explained. “You don’t want to get involved with this, it stinks to me.”

“My lord, I speak the truth,” the girl said imploringly. “You will come.”

Elliot frowned. He hated the idea that his fate was in any way predetermined… but at the same time…

“What does he want to speak about?” he asked.

“It is not my place to know this,” Sarah said softly. “Merely my place to summon you at the apportioned time.”

Hell Blazer made a low growl at the back of his throat, clearly more than a little uneasy. Elliot shared his unease - there was something off about all of this, he just didn’t know what it was yet. Still… part of him was… curious.What was this oracle? Who was this oracle?

“Alright,” he said softly. “Where is he?”

“He is in our facility in this city, my lord,” Sarah said softly. “We awaited your arrival and victory here.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow, and Hell Blazer snorted.

“And if he hadn’t won?” the Convie asked.

“If he was not going to survive, we would not be here, my lords,” Sarah said simply. “Please. Come.”

Elliot threw his friend a look, and shrugged. Hell Blazer sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “If this goes arse over tits, you owe me a beer.”

***

The girl had led them both to a small house. It was a terraced house in the city centre. Miraculously it had been left relatively intact despite the devastating assaults that had hit the city. Hell Blazer waited by the car, leaving Elliot to go in alone.

“This way please,” Sarah said quietly as she led him through the hallway and then down into an old cellar.

Inside the cellar the air felt thick. An almost oppressive atmosphere filled the surprisingly large space with a stale taste and hints of other substances. Dominating the centre of the cellar was a large cage that took up most of the space. Behind the bars of the cage, on a mound of worn and tattered cushions, was seated a man - young, clean-shaven and with short, well trimmed hair, his entire appearance seemed to be carefully ordered and composed, as if someone were trying to sculpt him like a statue. He wore a simple hooded robe over a loose linen shirt and trousers, with simple sandles on. Two more hooded figures stood near him, heads bowed, apparently waiting for something. As Elliot watched, one of them put a mask over the man’s face, and he took a breath, before slumping slightly where he sat, looking up at Elliot with bleary but surprisingly alert eyes.

“Oh, hello,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly light. “How are you?”

Elliot raised an eyebrow at that.

“Don’t bother answering,” the young man said. “You’re usually sceptical. Or hostile. I prefer it when you’re sceptical - it’s less aggravating. Not that it’s that bad. There’s worse. There’s the times when you kill me. Sometimes dying hurts.”

He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. One of the attendants put the mask to his face again, and he took a breath, a slight lazy smile coming onto his face.

“I was told you wanted to speak to me,” Elliot said softly.

“I want to be somewhere far away from here, sipping a nice drink and reading a book,” the young man said. “But what I want is irrelevant. If there’s one thing I know, it's that I’ll never ever get it.”

“Boo hoo,” Elliot said, slightly snappishly. he wouldn’t normally have been so snappish, but the air down here was giving him a headache. “I have a war to fight. If this is important…”

“You have much more than a war to fight,” the young man interrupted, fixing him with a stare. “You’re going to add more to your collection before the end.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “The Elements?”

“Yes,” the man said softly. “You are going to meet them again. You have met them. You’ve always known them. You’re going to know them.”

Elliot frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“And then there’s Celestia,” the man added. “Celestia, Solamina. One each. Twice in total. Both times will hurt - one more than the other. You’ll get what you need both times, though not necessarily what you want.”

Elliot folded his arms, looking to Sarah, who stood, head bowed and impassive.

“Can you translate?” he asked quietly.

“No,” the girl said softly. “None of us can see as he sees. It is for him to speak the future.”

Elliot sighed, looking back to the man. “Look, I’m sure you’re trying your best to make all of this clear -”

“You are doomed,” the man cut him off, eyes wide. He stood up, pushing past the attendants and grabbing the bars of the cage, staring out at Elliot with suddenly wide eyes. “This war will be won, but you will not enjoy victory. You will only go on to a greater war. The final war.”

Elliot blinked, stepping back slightly in shock at the sudden change in the boy’s demeanour.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You are dying,” the boy said, his voice growing louder and more frantic as he spoke. “You have died. You will die. Again and again and again, a thousand thousand times. And not all of them are good. But beware the greatest enemy - it is not the Tyrant. It is you!”

And suddenly, he stepped back, clutching at his head. The boy gave out a wordless cry before collapsing to the floor. The attendants rushed to him one smooth movement, grabbing him and pulling him upright with practiced ease. They began caressing him, rubbing his head and whispering into his ears in calm tones. They seemed as unfocused as the man they were attending but the methodical way in which they attempted to ease him from whatever afflicted him astonished Elliot.

“My apologies, Lord Albion,” Sarah said softly, looking up at him. “He has said all he can to you.”

Elliot said nothing, instead turning away from the young man and leaving the building.

Outside, Hell Blazer was waiting, a frown on his face.

“What was that all about?” the Convie asked, eyebrows raised.

“I… don’t know,” Elliot said, frowning. “Something about… the Elements, for one thing. According to him, I’ll meet them again.” He glanced at the lining of his coat, a faint smile on his face. “I guess that’s something.”

“Anything else?” Hell Blazer asked.

“Well he said I’m dying,” Elliot replied, smirking slightly. “I suppose that’s meant to be news to me.”

“It’s news to him, or it should be,” Hell Blazer frowned. His friend’s state of health was a secret of sorts - only known to those who knew him personally.

“Best not to worry about it,” Elliot said softly, frowning. “There’s other shit on.”

Hell Blazer laughed. “I hear that. Come on.”

They walked back to the car, though Elliot couldn’t help but ponder the last words the boy had had for him.

The greatest enemy - it is not the Tyrant. It is you.

Now, what could that mean?

Author's Notes:

With thanks to RoyalPsycho for helping out with this one.

Apologies if this said it had been published twice. The computer I'm on... doesn't like me.