Annual 1
by Neil Gow & Stephen Mellor	Year Three	Dec

 The clouds above the chapel gather in darker and darker patterns. The meager light cast by the quarter moon cannot penetrate the heavy blanket of the storm. The wind does not seem too strong yet it howls and moans around the trees and stones in the valley. The pitted stones of the chapel cast strange shadows across the grass. Inside lights flicker - dim lights cast by weak candles and smothered by the impenetrable darkness.

Moving into the chapel the shadows fall on an altar, long and cold. Upon the altar is a woman. She is still, like a corpse. Her body is clothed in a suit of red, white and blue. Tight material clinging to her body, a facemask pulled down to reveal pale skin and short hair. Her facial muscles twitch and jerk, occasionally she moans and weeps. From the shadows emerge two tall figures. Both are dressed in heavy woolen robes, faces covered by deep hoods. One of them raises a hand and draws back the hood. His face is scarred across the left eye, his beard well trimmed and white haired.

' This is the most important thing we will ever do, Keeper #2 - Sir Justin?'

' You are correct Sir Jacob. I am Keeper #2. You are Keeper #1. We are the last of the Knights of Avalon. The fate of the universe is in our hands.

MARVEL VOLUME ONE AND VAN PLEXICO PRESENT

'Memories from a Distant Home.' - AvalonQuest pt2

 The semi-conscious form of Captain UK floats inches above the surface of the cold granite altar. Near her head stands Sir Justin. In his hands he holds a peculiar object. It is a crimson bowl flanked by small flanges. From the bottom extends a ridged handle. The item crackles with pure energy. It is the Evil Eye - the centre of all power in Avalon.

' I hold the Eye above this Warrior of Merlyn. She has lost her world and has been given a second chance to serve Merlyn and the Land of Avalon. An Earth cannot exist without a Captain Britian for long, otherwise the imbalance in the energy matrix that holds the omniverse together will feedback and destroy that Earth.'

At her feet, the other robed man stands and is passed the Eye.

' I hold the Eye above this Warrior of Merlyn. She is losing her mind in her new home. She cannot handle the inconsistencies between her world and this. We could not foresee this, Sir Justin. She has never shown these symptoms before when she has been on Earth 616?'

' She has never been under such strain. She has been removed from a pocket dimension. She has seen a friend killed. She has traveled through time. All of this cannot have helped her predicament. We must help her to anchor to this reality. We must examine her strongest memories and relate them to her new Earth. Only that way will we save her mind. Let us commence.' He signals to his companion and Captain UK is bathed in an eerie light. In her mind, and that of the Keepers, images begin to form......

    ************************

Arrival - written by Stephen Mellor

Piccadily Circus was quiet. In the distance could be heard the moans and the prayers of the dying, but in Piccadily Circus nothing lived except the rats and the birds, feasting as they always feast after a battle. A pile of bodies lay at the entrance to the tube station, a grotesque mockery of the rush hour. The neon signs sparked and crackled, blood and gore dripping from the McDonalds sign - one take away that would be left behind. The statue of Eros was be-ribboned with the entrails of an Asian girl and her white beaux.

Above all this the all encompassing dome arched. It glittered slightly, a sickly yellow colour. Suddenly, a patch of sky blurred and darkened and, in some unexplainable manner, it twisted. The patch went black. There was something. A small dot, slowly growing. It was difficult to say whether the dot was something a long distance away and getting closer or if it was something else, some growth on the smooth, unblemished blackness of the patch.

Then the question was moot as a figure burst out of the patch, a woman dressed in figure hugging red, white and blue. The figure dropped out of the sky before slowing and stopping, hovering above the desolation. Her mouth fell open when she saw the destruction.

' No,' she whispered. ' it's happening again. I can't take this. Why? Why me?' Suddenly a sound behind her made her start. She span around just as a demonic creature smashed into her. Linda McQuillan, Captain UK, shot backwards into a neon sign hanging on one of the buildings around the square.

Silence reigned for a few moments as the demon - one of the Fomor - hovered, in an obvious state of priapic excitement , it's great wings flapping slowly. It watched the hole in the building for a minute or two before coming to the conclusion that its prey was dead.

' That be another for yon game.' it thought, ' I be winning that there prize. That be two hundred for me now. That looked like one of them there heroes 'n'all.' The fomor twisted in the sky as it turned to fly off searching for more victims.

Linda McQuillan flew from the hole in the building like a purple comet. She hit the fomor in the side with a loud crack of bones snapping like an old, dead tree trunk in a high wind. One of it's wings started to crumple and then it was hit by the sonic boom of Linda's passing. The fomor spiraled to the ground, lifelessly.

' I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! I AM NOT A PUPPET!' Linda screamed. She floated down to the ground and landed next to Eros. She fell to her knees and put her head in her hands.

' This can't be happening,' she said, ' it's a dream. Those two creatures that sent me here, saying that I was living in some fake reality. It's not true. Dicky, Michael and the others, it was all real. Wasn't it?' She looked around her. Slowly she stood up.

She knew. Her time in that heavenly fantasy was just that, a fantasy. She knew. Dicky, Michael, Andy and the others. They are all dead. Killed by the Fury. She knew. Her life was just a joke. She was going to find the bastards who did this to her. That bastards who wouldn't let her live how she wanted to live.

She looked into the sky, at the glistening dome above her and knew what her first priority was. She was going to find the person who had brought about all this death and destruction. She was going to make that person pay dearly for all the horror in her life. She had to find Brian. Brian would know what was happening - he was always at the centre of the horror. Brian Braddock and horror. These two things seemed to be that only constants in her life. She recalled a line she had once read;

' All we have in common is the horror in our lives.'

It never seemed more apt. Linda McQuillan, Captain UK, formerly of Earth 238, straightened up and, with barely a quiver of her muscles, leapt into the sky, her mind set on only one thing - Vengeance.

    **********************

' Sir Jacob. I fear that we may have been hasty in our attempt to reveal the dimensional construct to our guest. The separation that she felt was obviously a source of great distress.'

' Fear not Sir Justin. There was little that we could have done. We knew that Bres had to be stopped and we were aware that the tenure of Brian Braddock as Captain Britain was coming to an end. We needed a replacement - a figurehead. The matrix needed to be served as well. We had no way of knowing what would have happened if Bres had been able to exploit the lack of a Captain Britain.'

' You speak truth. Yet she obviously still feels a strong connection with the friends she had back on Earth 238. Maybe we should look there next?'

' I agree.'

    ***********************
 
 

A Time of Miracles by Stephen Mellor

Linda McQuillan was worried and confused.   Normally, the Vicious Boys were easy.   They may have all the hitting power of an enraged bull elephant, but they also had the organisational abilities of an aardvark.   But this time, attacking the Houses of Parliament, Downing Street and the BBC at the same time?   This wasn’t their usual style.   To make it worse, she had raging flu that was making her head feel as if it was filled with tapioca.
Of course, that wasn’t the real problem.   No, the real problem was the fact that Carl Vicious was holding her in a head lock, whilst his brother, Edgar, was preparing to kick her spine out through her guts.   That was her real problem.   God knew what Eddie was doing, Linda certainly didn’t.
Linda tried struggling again, but Carl had a tight hold.  The way he was holding her, she couldn’t get a purchase on him and she was very uncertain of her footing on the ground.
“Ah’m gonna kick ‘er inta orbit, Carl, just you watch,” grunted Edgar.
There was a thud-thud-thud as Edgar began to run up and Linda screwed her eyes closed in anticipation.
After a few moments, Linda felt Carl’s grip loosening and she twisted and pushed with all her strength.   Carl streaked away as if he’d been shot from a cannon, straight towards the scaffolding surrounding Nelson’s Column.
“Oh, sh...” Linda started to say, but stopped as a figure in gold and blue streaked up and caught the flying Carl with one hand.
“HOWZAT??!” the flying man shouted, ecstatically, before floating down, holding the struggling Vicious Boy in one gloved hand.
“I believe you may have dropped something, miss,” he said, with a gentle smile, “I thought the government wouldn’t appreciate having Nelson’s Column damaged before the last lot was sorted out. Who was it last time? The Arachnid against Professor Squid, wasn’t it?”
Linda was almost overcome by the sight of this man in front of her.   He was utterly perfect.   She had thought that she was used to super-heroes - she had met most of them - Tom Rosetta, The Talon, Vendetta and, whilst they were handsome men at the peak of physical perfection - with the obvious exception of The Ooze,  she had never felt overpowered by them.  But this man, his charisma was almost like a physical blow.  She felt herself going weak at the knees.   Her gaze traveled up his body, pausing once or twice to examine his most obvious... attributes and then reached his face.
It was almost classically Greek in its beauty.  He had a strong aquiline nose, piercing blue eyes and wavy, blond hair.   His smile showed perfect, white teeth.
“I can’t think of anything to say. This is ridiculous, I feel like a schoolgirl,” Linda thought.
“Are you all right?” the man said, “I hope this brute didn’t hurt you.”
He shook Carl roughly and Carl , who had been struggling, wailed and struggled even more.
“Shut up,” said the man and back-handed Carl across the back of the head. Carl slumped forwards and the man let him drop to the ground.
“Er... the other two..?” Linda asked, in a small voice.
“Oh, they’re over there.   I say, aren’t you that new heroine? Captain UK?”
“Yes, yes, I am.   You’re Miracleman, aren’t you?”
“No I’m not.  He’s my older counterpart, I’m the middle one of the Miracle Family, Young.”
“Oh, yes. Of course, Young Miracleman, sorry.”
“That’s fine, miss.   Please, call me Dickie, everyone else does,” he said.
“Dickie? Okay, and you must call me Linda.” she replied.
“Bloody hell, I’m blushing,” she thought, “I feel naked.  Why does this costume have to be skin tight?”
“I saw you having a bit of trouble with those three and thought that I would help out,” Dickie said.
“Thanks.  I don’t... I don’t...” Linda sneezed, explosively, “Oh, excuse me.”
“Are you all right, Linda?” Dickie asked, suddenly concerned.
He took off a glove and put his hand to her forehead.
“God, woman, you’re burning up. You should be at home in bed, not out here, fighting these idiots. Look, here come Super-Power Special Branch.   They can clear up.   Let me take you home.   Come on.”
He held her gently around the waist and leapt into the sky.
“Hold on, girl,” Linda told herself, “he’s just another man.”
She had a difficult time convincing herself of this, though.
Linda directed them back to her home and in almost no time she was sitting in bed, wearing a dressing gown.
There was a gentle knock on the door.
“Are you respectable, Linda?” Dickie called.
“What am I doing, I’ve only just met him and he already knows where I live.  He could be Masquerade or Face-On,” she thought.
But she knew he wasn’t.   None of their disguises could come anywhere near the awe-inspiring perfection of this man.
“Yes,” she called, “come in.”
He entered the room, holding a steaming mug and stopped when he saw her.
“I... er... I... well... Do you like Horlicks?” he stuttered.  Linda realised with a start that he was embarrassed.
“Yes, thank you, I do,” she said.
He put the mug on her bedside table.
“I have to go and see MM, but I’ll come back in the morning to see how you’re feeling.   If that’s okay?” He said, shyly.
“Yes, please do.   That would be lovely,” she said.
He flew out of the window, too fast to be seen by anyone.   Linda lay back in her bed and snuffled gently to herself.
“I think I’m in love.”
The next morning he brought flowers
 

    ***********************

' It would appear that those images helped to calm her, Sir Jacob. Can the Eye help to secure them in the Earth 616 reality?'

' I'm afraid even that is beyond the power of the Eye. To do that would be to give her delusionary memories. The strain upon her psyche would be immense everytime she was reminded that the memories were false.'

' What must we do to finalise her place now that she is calmed?'

' We must remind her of her purpose in life. We must remind her of the choice she made when she became a Captain Britain!'

    ***********************

A Sound Of Thunder (1981) by Stephen Mellor

The sky was filled with fire.  The streets were filled with people.   Chaos ruled.
It was a time of war.   It was a time of heroes.

“God, that is pretentious rubbish!”
Linda McQuillan was sitting at her desk reading what she had just written.   How was she supposed to be able to write a sensible account of the Troubles when she couldn’t rise above the levels of some comic book hack?  Her editor was going to kill her.
She got up from behind her typewriter and went into the kitchen.   Perhaps a cup of teas would help revive some of the creative juices that had quite obviously become totally comatose.
Standing in front of a window looking out at the Brixton street, Linda stood and mused quietly to herself.   Funny, how all of the big Troubles had started at the same time as her own smaller problems.   That accusation of plagiarism.   Her car being stolen.   Her boyfriend coming out as a transvestite.  It had all happened within a fortnight.  Then the morning after her boyfriends revelation he was gone.   One of the first to be lost to the Troubles.
Of  course, they weren’t known as the Troubles then.   No, it was just a ‘freak occurrence’ according the BBC.   ITN preferred to call it a ‘unlucky, once-in-a-lifetime accident’.   No, the Troubles were still the official term used for the Northern Ireland ‘problem’.   Of course, after Northern Ireland suffered a ‘freak occurrence’ the problem was pretty much sorted out.
She sat down again and started to type.

What were the Troubles?   Could anyone explain?   Could anyone help?   Where would it end?   Where did it start?

She ripped the paper out of the typewriter screwed it up and threw into the bin, cursing a blue streak.   That was even worse than the pseudo-epic rubbish.  She just couldn’t get a handle on it.   It was too big for her.   She had to make it smaller.   But smaller meant personal and the loss of Eddie was still too recent.   If only she hadn’t reacted the way she did.   After all, he wasn’t telling her that he was gay or seeing another woman.   All he did was wear lingerie and dresses occasionally.   What was so bad about that?   If  only she hadn’t thrown him out of her flat he would still be alive now.   She stood up.   This was not going to get her anywhere.   She was never able to write when she was unhappy or stressed and, she had to face it, she was both at the moment.
Richmond Park.   It was her place.   When she needed to get away from it all, it was where she went.   Wide open spaces was what she needed now.   It was nothing like her native Cumbria, the Peak District, but when she couldn’t climb Scafell Pike it was the next best thing.

The roads were empty.   Linda, in her cynical moments, thought that this was one of the positive side-effects of the Troubles.   Everyone seemed to have scattered - left the capital and gone to ground in the countryside.   They seemed to have the idea that they would be safer if they weren’t surrounded by lots of people.   There were still lots of people - there were a lot of old folks talking about the ‘Blitz spirit’ as if the Troubles was something that could be overcome by brewing tea and sitting in Anderson shelters.  It wasn’t so much ‘Hush, Here Comes A Whizzbang’ as much as ‘Hush, Here Comes A Totally Inexplicable And Mind-Numbing Calamity’.   Oh, God, she was even thinking badly.   Her mind was really going.   She’d be reading the Sun and buying disco albums next.

Linda shivered.  Suddenly, what had been a nice, pleasant spring day, had turned dull and overcast. She looked into the sky and was surprised to see that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.   But, where the sky had been a vibrant blue and the sun a yellow-white orb, both looked washed out and grey.   There was one bright spot in the sky, a brilliant, glaring white that was getting swiftly larger.
She pulled the car over to the edge of the road and got out.   She jumped as a loud thud sounded behind her.   She span around and looked curiously at the sparrow lying, motionless on the bonnet of her car.   It was only half there, it looked as if it had been cut cleanly in half in one single motion.   Then, her face cleared, she looked up and a look of panic crossed her face.
“Oh.... Oh.... Oh...” Linda McQuillan, a woman who made her living from words couldn’t think of a single one.
She leapt into her car, gunned the engine and, wheels screeching, accelerated away down the road.
The radio, which she had tuned to Radio 4, suddenly squealed and squawked.   Linda reached forward and fumbled with it, turning it off, but the squealing continued, getting louder and louder.   In the rear-view mirror she could see the whiteness getting closer and closer to the ground.   She knew what it was.   It was nothing.   When it touched the ground, it would wipe clean the area to the bedrock, leaving nothing behind - no bodies, no debris, nothing.
The whiteness was blindingly bright.   Linda hunched down in the car, willing it forward ever faster.  The most terrifying thing was the lack of noise.
The whiteness touched the earth and was gone.  Linda glanced into her rear-view mirror, not believing that she had been that close to it.   This would give her something to write about.
A huge crashing tidal wave of noise suddenly enveloped the car, shaking it and slewing it around.   Linda slammed her foot onto the brake and put her hands over her ears.   The noise was so big, it engulfed her and threatened to shatter her.   Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
“What...?   Thunder?” She mumbled to herself, not quite sure whether she could hear anything or not.   Then, she realised what she was looking at.
Down the road, back towards where the whiteness had touched, the ground and all the buildings were rippling.   They seemed to be slowly flying apart.   How could she forget about the devastation that surrounded all the places that had been wiped clean?   Then, it was on her.

Afterwards, lying bent, broken and bleeding in the wreckage of her car it had all seemed perfectly normal.   At least, compared to what came after that, anyway.
An enormous black bird was sitting on the top of the wreckage looking at her, first with one large, luminous yellow eye and the other, as if it couldn’t quite believe what it was seeing.
“I wish that crow would go away and let me in die peace,” Linda thought.
Linda didn’t hear the reply.   She just knew that the words she had been thinking had been heard and she had been given a reply, but the words had not been spoken, they had just been placed in her memory.
“Two things.   Firstly, I am not a crow, I am a raven and, secondly, I am not going to let you die.   I have a job for you, if you want it.”
“A job?   Yes, of course.   I don’t think I’m going to be writing anything for a while, so I need something to get me a bit of money,” Linda wasn’t sure if she said it or thought it, but, it didn’t seem to matter to this cr... raven.
“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Good, now open them again.”
This was different.   The voice was the same, but Linda actually heard them this time, rather than just remembering them.
She opened her eyes, closed them and then opened them again.   Something was wrong.   Damn it, her father had been right all along.   There was a heaven.   This was not going to be good.   Although, by the look of all the minarets and Arabian Nights stuff, she thought that her father was going to be surprised when he met Mohammed rather than Jesus.
“This is not heaven.   You are not ready to go on to the next life yet.   I brought you here to give you a job.”
The man did not look anything like a raven, although his voice was the same.   He was tall and had a shock of red hair on his head and a bushy red beard.   Behind him was a woman with long black hair and elfin ears.
“Where am I?” Linda asked, then winced at the questions triteness.
“Welcome to Otherworld.   I am Myrr and this is my daughter, Roma.   I shall ask you again, do you want a job?”
Linda realised that she was not in pain any more.   She looked down at herself and saw that she was lying on a chaise lounge, wearing a white, silk gown.
“Myrr? As in King Astor and the Pentagram Table?”
“Yes. I am he. Do you want a job?”, Myrr asked again.
“What sort of a job?” Linda asked.
“The United Kingdom is in great danger.   That which you call the Troubles is only the beginning of the danger for the country.   In a time of need such as this, it is possible to grant one person the ability to wield power to avert that danger.   You have been chosen, Linda McQuillan.”
“Me? Why me?” Linda was bewildered.
“I must be delirious,” she thought, “what a way to die, with some kind of teenage power fantasy running through my head.”
“This is no delirium induced vision, Lady McQuillan.   Please listen to my father,” Roma spoke with a gentle, lilting tone that was soothing and almost hypnotic.
“Okay, so how do I get the job?” Linda asked.
“Choose.”

Everything went black.
“That’s not fair.  This is no way to die, with a cliffhanger like that,” Linda shouted.
In front of her an anvil stood before her, bathed in a soft, golden light.   On the anvil... no, not on... in the anvil was embedded a sword and an amulet.
“Choose.”
She slowly approached and walked around the anvil.
“Choose? What? The sword or the amulet?   Is this where you reveal to me that I am King Astor reincarnated?”
“Choose.”
“Okay, okay, I get the idea.   Sword or amulet?   Well, the sword wouldn’t be of much use to me.   I don’t think I could lift it, never mind use it, so I think that I’ll go with this amulet.   Let’s see where that gets me.”
She pulled the amulet gently and it lifted from the anvil, leaving the anvil’s surface unblemished.   Holding it up, she examined the intricate carving on the amulet’s face.
“You have chosen.... wisely.”
Suddenly, Linda was plunged into darkness again.   There was a pause, as if the whole world was holding it’s breath and then light slowly started to filter back.
This light was a cheerful, bright sunlight and she could hear birds singing.
Looking around her, she saw the wreckage of her car, come into focus.   Above her, there was a loud flapping of wings and a black shadow seemed to flit away from the car.
She jerked up and was surprised to see the twisted metal that had pinned her down tear like paper.
Through the torn and tattered remains of her skirt and blouse she saw a skintight red, white and blue costume.   Lying next to her was a mask with a stylised Union Flag symbol on her forehead.
“I’m... a superhero?” she said.
She picked up the mask and looked at it, before slipping it over her face.   It was strange, but not uncomfortable, although the way it cut off her peripheral vision a bit would take some getting used to.
There was another loud ripping noise above her and the roof her car peeled away, revealing a teenage boy, wearing a glowing green medallion.
“I’m Tom Rosetta,” he said, “I thought I saw someone moving.   Wow, I thought everyone would be dead, that was a really bad one.   Are you a superhero to? I mean, you’ve get a costume and everything, but I don’t recognise you.”
“Yes, I’m...” Linda paused and then, once again, words were placed in her memory. “I’m Captain UK”  she said, proudly.
 
 

    ***********************

The Eye bathes the room in a soft blue light, outlining the profiles of the two knights. They let the energy pour out over Linda McQuillan. Her face stirs, her eyes flicker and then they open. First the left, then the right. She flexes her fists and her forearms and then pushes herself up into a sitting position. She shakes her head again and looks around the room.

' YOU! What the hell have you two done to me this time?!?!'

' Stay your hand, Captain UK. We have only brought memories to the fore of your mind.'

' I don't need my memories tampered with, by you or by anyone, but especially by you! Who are you anyway?' She stands up and straightens the creases in her costume.

' This is Sir Jacob and I am Sir Justin. We are also known as Keeper#1 and Keeper#2. We are the last of the Knights of Avalon. We were recruited to guard the Eye - the most powerful object in Avalon. We guard it here, in Otherworld. From time to time we watch over the Captain Britain Corps as well. That is how your plight came to our attention.'

' And what exactly have you done to me? It's been a long time since I've been to Otherworld.'

' Your mind could not handle the stress of the transition from Earth 238 to Earth 616. We have highlighted memories in your mind that will stabalise your new life. Your memories of your arrival on Earth 616 will focus the reality of the transition. Your memories of your friends and lover from 238 will calm your thoughts and the last set of memories will remind you of your responsibility to the Corps.'

The three figures start as there is a brisk knock at the heavy wooden door that blocks the entrance to the chapel. Sir Justin looks at Sir Jacob and he shrugs. He walks to the door and unlocks it only to have it kicked open. He falls backwards and slams against the altar.

Standing in the doorway is a large man dressed in a loose brown cloak. His skin is bronzed and slightly scaled, his hair - white and long - covering his pointed ears. His face is twisted in a sick grin. The chapels inhabitants speak with one voice.

' Bres!'

' I'm flattered that you recognise and remember me. Infamy has it's benefits, no?'

' What do you want, Fomor?' Captain UK clenches her fist and takes a step forwards. Sir Justin places his arm across her chest and pushes her back. From within his cloak he draws a long shining blade.

' Stand back, milady. None shall pass Sir Justin of Cornwall!' He passes the Eye back to Sir Jacob.

' You dolt ...' Bres is as dismissive as a man swatting a fly as he raises his hand and blasts the Knight of Avalon. A hole appears through the man's body and he falls to the ground.

' You bastard!' Captain UK screams and lunges for the fomor lord. Her punch impacts on his chin and he reels backwards.

' You are a feisty wench, aren't you?' He ignores her and blasts the other knight. His abdomen explodes and the Eye falls from his hand. Both Bres and Captain UK lunge for the artifact. Bres just reaches it and stands triumphant. ' It was simplicity itself to follow you from the other Earth to his magical place once those two dead fools had brought you here. The power of the Eye is not something you forget. An intoxicating feeling. You lead me here, Crusader, and now I will have my revenge upon you and your allies.'

' Drop the Eye, Bres!'

' Never. Now I have the ultimate power. A power that you will feel NOW!' He raises the Eye and releases the energy. It impacts on Captain UK and the chapel. The building collapses and the Captain in blown away like a rag doll. She falls to the ground in a heap. Bres, untouched by the debris, strides to her and raises her above his head.

' Now I have the Eye, I rule Otherworld!!!'

E-mail your comments, thoughts and constructive feedback to Neil Gow

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The Great Crusaders Questionnaire

I'm trying to gather information for future storylines in The Crusaders. I'd appreciate it if anyone who reads this that isn't on the Faux-Marvel or MV1Talk mailing lists could reply to me at Neil.Gow@ncl.ac.uk

Union Jack, Micromax, Spitfire, Captain UK, Hern, Arcadia, Destroyer, Sherwood.

Q1 - from the list above, who are your three favourite Crusaders?
Q2 - from the list above, who is your least favourite Crusader?
Q3 - which other heroes would you like to see in The Crusaders?
Q4 - which villains would you like to see the Crusaders face?
Q5 - do you have any other comments about the Crusaders?

Ta, Neil.