#redstringweek

“I’m not sure you would have liked him, you know. He’s paranoid enough. But I don’t think he’s got the stomach for it.”

[image ID: a 3 page digital comic of an alternate version of MAG 197.

Page 1: first panel is divided in two- one side shows an angry Jon and Basira, looking at Annabelle. Annabelle looks back, relaxed- her eyes red and her fangs bared. Martin is encased in web behind her. Next three panels are close-ups on Annabelle. She says "Well well, archivist. We meet again!". From behind her, a blue light grows stronger. Annabelle: "I'd stay right there if I were you-" she's interupted by an off-panel voice that says "cane...". She turns to face the source, eyes and mouth returning to normal. Annabelle: "wha-" the rest of the page shows the flaming ghost of Agnes Montague, as she says "ANNABELLE CANE". In the foreground, Jon and Basira look on, Basira saying "Jon?".

Page 2: we see Jon and Basira's bewildered faces. Basira: "mind telling me what's going on?" Jon: "it...it can't be-" Annabelle interrupts, annoyed: "it is. Agnes Montague. We've...met before". Next panel shows an exchange between the ghostly Agnes and Annabelle. Agnes: "an ironic fate, I suppose. Tethered in death to the place I scorned and destroyed in life." Annabelle: "how many times do we have to go over this? your time has passed, "messiah". Leave us". Agnes: "content with your title as the web's favoured stooge then, are we? I thought I was a martyr back in my day too. Self effacing in my goal. A God amongst men. But I wasn't a god. And it wasn't my goal. I never really got to have one of those. Perhaps if I "put my back in" as the saying goes, but...I don't think this is your goal either Annabelle. I can't see what you gain, after all". We close in on Annabelle's face. She says "what I gain is second to what my patron gains. I don't have a choice in the matter. None of us do". Agnes replies: "maybe. Maybe it's easier to convince ourselves that, rather than being solely powerless in a world of people able to change their fates where we are not, we're in a sea of other powerless people. I've watched you, Annabelle cane. Cutting and mending magnetic tape, choosing to make not just a narrative, but a story. You tell this story, a story that isn't even your own by all accounts, just how you want it to be told. It's novel to you. Like black coffee with room for milk."

Final page shows a purple web being burnt up by blue flame. In the centre, text in Agnes' ghostly font reads: So tell me Annabelle. How does the story end?". End ID]