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Issue Seventeen
"Bell, Book and Candle - Part 4: And Death comes to all..." |
Our story so far: The Cult of the Curse has gathered three mystical artifacts, despite the best efforts of the Trenchcoats.
Now, with Rose Psychic (partner to Dr. Occult) captured, it’s up to the four mystics to find the Cult’s hiding place and stop whatever evil plan the Cult’s master has come up with.
“Talk about your fixer-uppers,” John Constantine muttered, darkly. He and the other members of the Trenchcoat Brigade stood gathered on a street corner. They were looking over the abandoned asylum, that the Cult of the Curse was using as their gathering place.
“You can feel the evil emanating from the building,” Mister E added, scowling.
“Indeed,” The Phantom Stranger said. “The energies are building. We are running out of time.”
Dr. Occult leaned drunkenly against the crumbling brick wall, muttering to himself. Without Rose, he was growing weak and unfocused.
“How do we want to do this?” Constantine asked, taking a puff of his cigarette.
“I will aid Richard Occult, in rescuing Rose,” The Stranger said.
“And I will deal with the... rabble,” Mister E said.
“Well, I guess that leaves finding out what they’re up to, to me,” The Englishman nodded. “Once more into the breach...”
Deep within the bowels of the old mental hospital, there was a flurry of activity. Rose Psychic, imprisoned in a sphere of mystical energy and shrunk to the size of an action figure, was wondering what they were up to. She watched as the wretched, dirty members of the Cult worked, gathering other followers, and setting up for some mysterious ritual.
A series of circles had been painted on the floor, in a pungent black ink. In the gaps, between circles, were scrawled various runes and spells. Resting, on the floor, in the center circle, were the three artifacts, the Unrung Bell, the Unlit Candle and the Unread Book.
“This can’t be good,” she muttered, worriedly. Where were Richard and the others? She was pulled away from her thoughts, by the leader of the Cult of the Cursed. Oogar came hobbling into the chamber.
He was a handsome man, reminding Rose of a greek statue. His shoulders were broad, his hair like spun gold and his face would have made Brad Pitt look plain. His only real flaws were his pronounced limp and his eyes. Oogar had eyes colored like a summer sky, but they were full of madness. When he looked upon a person, you could feel those eyes peering through you, pausing to glance at your inner most self on their way through. Rose gave a slight shudder as he approached.
“We are almost ready to begin,” He said, nodding in satisfaction. He turned, a predatory smile on his face. “Very soon, we shall gaze upon the divine and this sad world will be remade.”
“How?” Rose asked. “I know the three objects are part of a summoning ritual, but what are you planning on summoning?”
“Ah, the traditional moment where the ‘villain’ explains his entire plan,” Oogar chuckled. “I’ve been in the shadows for so long, I’d forgotten. You must be curious, little ghost. I suppose you should be rewarded. You came closer, then any of your comrades. They are still stumbling around, out there, in the dark.”
He crossed his arms, and peered off into the distance.
“A story to pass the time,” Oogar said. “I was born in Greece, an attendant at the temple of Apollo. So very long ago. At the time, the wizard Shazam was wandering about the world. Following the death of Prince Knhufu, and the treachery of his protégé’,Teth-Adam, Shazam found himself disfavor. In Greece, he hoped to redeem himself and so, took a certain young boy under his wing...”
“You.” Rose said.
“Modesty forbids,” Oogar demurred. “Unfortunately, history repeats itself, and I, like Teth-Adam before me, felt no great compulsion to follow the wizard’s shining example. In my haste to transition from servant of the gods to a god myself, I learned a harsh lesson. The wizard had placed a secondary spell upon me when I was granted my powers, which punished me at my first act of rebellion...”
Oogar pulled up his robe, revealing, not feet, but a pair of cloven hooves. His ankles and calves were covered with coarse grey hair.
“I was forced to flee the city, fearing not only my ‘master’s’ wraith, but that of my family and neighbors, who would now see me, not as a god, but as a monster.”
“Imagine that,” Rose whispered.
“Plunging into the sea, I faked my death and fled, far from the city of my birth. A rocky, desolate island became my home and it was there that I first looked upon the divine! Some said, that I went mad, but it was that ‘madness’ that allowed me to peer beyond this mortal plane. I gathered followers, working in the shadows, for fear the wizard would come for me...”
“It’s taken you thousands of years to put your plan in effect?” Rose asked. “That’s more then caution. That’s either cowardice or procrastination on a colossal scale...”
Oogar reached out, plucking Rose’s sphere off the mantle and squeezed. Rose felt like a water balloon in a vice. Being a spirit, it wasn’t physical pain, more like she was a piece of fruit, but in place of juice, her mystical energies were being squeezed out of her.
“Mock, all you’d like, little ghost. This night, with the artifacts gathered, I will return to godhood and then you will beg for the right to worship me.” He tossed the sphere away and it, with Rose lying weak inside, rolled into a corner.
There were guards outside the Cult’s sanctuary, a ragged and bent, looking group of vagrants. They sat, scattered about the trash-strewn blacktop. Lazily, they raised their heads as a white-clad figure strode around the corner of the building. Mister E walked with quiet purpose, towards the building’s back door, his cane tapping against the cracked asphalt.
The guards shambled over to the blind mystic.
“No further,” One grunted, his eyes obscured by stringey, grey hair. “Go ‘way.”
“I give you a choice,” Mister E said, quietly. “Move aside, or die.”
The half dozen guards looked at him in stunned silence, then began to snicker. Several produced knives or lengths of pipe from their tattered clothes.
“I will take that as ‘no’,” Mister E sighed. “Pity.”
He jammed his cane into the rocky tar, so that it still stood upright, when he let it go. Mister E then reached into his overcoat, bringing out a large knife and a wooden stake. He wasted no further words on the guards. Before any of them could move, Mister E had slit the throat of the nearest one. He then drove the wooden stake through the chest of the next. Two of the vagrants shouted angrily and charged the man in white. E spun, yanking the stake free and stabbing it at the next approaching man. It spiked through the first guard’s chest and out his back, pinning him to the man behind him. Mister E disarmed them, literally, by loping off the guards hands that held weapons. He then nimbly dodged the torrents of blood that spilled from the mangled limbs. The last remaining guard, dropped his weapon and turned to flee. Mister E grabbed him by the collar of his grimey overcoat and pulled him back. The man whimpered in fear, as Mister E slashed him across the eyes and then released him.
He walked over and retrieved his cane,flicking a solitary fleck of blood off his lapel as he headed for the building.
On the other side of the building, the remaining three members of the Trenchcoat Brigade were huddled in an alley. John Constantine cupped a hand to his ear.
“Screams of fear and agony. I’d say E’s gotten to the back door.”
“I will assist Occult in finding Rose,” The Stranger said.
“I’ll suss out where they stashed the artifacts,” Constantine said.
Rose leaned her shoulder into the wall of the sphere and pushed, causing it to roll. Feeling less like an occult investigator and more like a gerbil, Rose was able to roll her prison till it bumped up against one of the temple’s pillars. No cracks in the sphere, but she did get a better view of the preparations for the summoning. She still felt fuzzy on the details, but after listening to Oogar, Rose was convinced whatever he wanted to bring to earth, was not likely to be a cheerful entity. The deformed mystic obviously had little regard for anything beyond his quest for power.
His shabby lackey’s had finished drawing the rune symbols on the floor Rose had the vague beginnings of a plan, but at her current size , she was going to need help.
“Whenever you want some guy to come barging in, in a testosterone-induced attempt to rescue you,” She muttered. “They never do. Typical.”
Unknown to her, an attempt was being made.
John Constantine was sneaking through the old asylum's halls, checking out rooms and trying to avoid getting pounced on by any of the wandering lunatic’s guarding the building. Peeking around a corner, he spied a lone guard. The man was skeletally thin and dressed in dirt crusted jeans and t-shirt. He was perched on an ancient looking chair, trying unsuccessfully to tie his shoes. One of the laces had apparently broken, and the repair was taking all the guard’s concentration. The english mystic came strolling around the corner, and leaned over the guard’s shoulder.
“Think the rabbit goes round the tree twice, before he goes down the hole,” Constantine suggested.
The guard raised his head and Constantine promptly stuck his thumb in the man’s eye.
With a squeal, the thin man clapped both hands to his injured eye. Constantine then grabbed a handful of greasy hair and yanked him backwards. The guard fell off the chair, and steadying himself, found the flame from a cigarette lighter mere inches from his good eye.
“Let’s you an’ me have a chat, alright?”
The guard nodded his head in vigorous agreement.
The Phantom stranger opened his coat, with a flourish and Dr. Occult stumbled out. The two mystics were in a deserted room, on the second floor of the Cult of the Cursed’s sanctuary.
The Stranger lowered Dr. Occult onto a nearby crate and stood behind him, the fingers of his gloved hands resting on the other man’s temples.
“Richard, we need to find Rose,”
“Rose,” Occult repeated in a slurred mutter. “Rose ish ... gone... I...”
“We can find Rose. The link is there. Think of Rose, my friend. You can find her and then we can make you whole once more.”
“Rose...”
Constantine kneed his reluctant informant in the groin and let him drop to the floor. The thin man’s mouth moved but he seemed unable to form words, just a few wheezy vowel sounds.
“Nice talkin to ya,” The englishman said, as he stepped over the guard. “Gotta get to the ‘temple’. Hope E’s keeping them distracted...”
As distractions go, it’s hard to beat a knife-weilding, hymm-humming killer, dressed all in white. Mister E had made his way through the old asylum, leaving a trail of dead and wounded cultists in his wake. There was no questioning, no taking of prisoners. E left that to the others. He was content in the knowledge that there were a few less evil men in the world, this night.
Slashing and clubbing his way down the hall, Mister E turned a corner and found the stone steps, leading to the temple.
He’d used up all his wooden stakes and both his cane and knife were varnished with a layer of blood. His right coat sleeve was torn and smeared with blood. There was a cut on the back of his left hand and one of his glass lenses was cracked. Though, sweating with exertion, Mister E’s features were set and bland. The carnage around him seemed to have no effect on the man.
He strolled down the steps, humming ‘Amazing Grace’, as his cane tapped on the stone. At the bottom of the stairs was a wide, low-ceilinged room. No sooner had he stepped into the room, than dozens of cult followers poured out from doors and shadowy alcoves.
“You go no further,” A broad shouldered man grunted, raising his large, scarred fists.
“That remains to be seen,” E replied, quietly.
The crowd rushed at him.
Rose pushed and the sphere rolled slowly towards the rune circles and the three talismans. Her progress was slowed as more of Oogar’s followers entered the room, and she had to dodge to stay out of sight.
Rose paused, to rest and look around.
“Richard...?” She muttered, glancing around. She couldn’t see him, but could feel his presence, the link they shared. A feeling that had faded since her capture by the Cult.
“He’s here.” Rose murmured, a smile forming in the corner of her mouth and she started to roll the sphere again.
Constantine mussed his hair and pulled the collar of his coat up as he joined the crowd, entering the temple. He shuffled along, his eyes on the floor, hoping to give the appearance of just one more lunatic in the crowd. He noted the placement of the three talismans and the runes within the circle. It confirmed his earlier theory that the Cult wanted to perform some kind of summoning ritual. Constantine frowned, concerned over what the Cult of the Curse would be seeking to bring here.
The crowd grew silent as Oogar strode into the room. A self-satisfied smile was on his face and the glint of madness in his eyes shown brightly. He walked to the center of the circle and raised his hands. First gesturing grandly at the talismans and then towards his followers.
“My brethren,” He said. “My fellow seekers of the divine, this is our time!”
“Oh great,” Constantine muttered. “Another one that likes the sound of his own voice.”
Oogar began to chant in a guttural language that hadn’t been spoken since before Atlantis sank. The crowd began to chant along with him. Some raised their hands as well, others merely closed their eyes and swayed slightly from side to side.
Constantine joined the swayers, while fishing through his coat pockets.
Two floors above the temple, Dr. Occult blinked his eyes and looked around, like a man waking up from a long sleep.
“What...? Where am...I? Rose! She’s here!”
“Yes, she is,” The Phantom Stranger said, placing a hand on his fellow mystic’s shoulder. “Focus, Richard Occult, events have gone beyond our control and time is short, if we are to set things right.”
“Of course,” Occult nodded, while rubbing at his forehead. “Still feel a bit... hollow. Rose seems to have some plan in mind, but all I can get are vague feelings and voices just past my hearing. What are we going to do?”
“John Constantine has gone to see what ritual the cult is using,” The Stranger explained. “Mister E is employing ... more direct methods.”
“No doubt. We should probably join Rose and Constantine, downstairs. Rose is probably in only slightly better shape than I am and John...”
“Yes,” The Stranger said, his coat spreading wide, like a cloak billowing in a fierce wind.
Then the room was empty.
Constantine couldn’t place the language of the Cult’s spell, but from the tone Oogar had, and the frenzied state of the crowd, he was pretty sure that he only had a few more minutes to throw a spanner into the works. He glanced around, looking for some sign of the others. They were nowhere to be seen.
“Typical,” he muttered. “Up to me to get it done...”
He tried to shuffle his way, nonchalantly, through the crowd. He brought a couple small objects out of his pocket and hid them, from sight, in his clenched fists.
“The calvary better show up,” he mumbled to himself. “They let me die, doing something stupid, I’ll come back and haunt them.”
Rose gave a last shove and her prison sphere rolled to a halt, inches away from the circle of runes. She knelt down, panting. The sphere was leeching her magical energy, to keep her contained. Her attempts to move the sphere left her feeling weak and a bit feverish. Rose spotted John Constantine amongst the crowd and realized rest time was over.
“I bet cash money,” She muttered, starting the sphere rolling again. “He’s all by himself and about to spring some half-assed plan, that’ll more than likely just make Oogar angry.”
The crowd’s chanting reached a frantic pitch and Oogar seemed on the verge of finishing his incantation. Constantine knew he couldn’t wait any longer for the others. He had to act now.
“It’s bollocksing time,” He muttered, raising his hands over his head. In one hand he held a lighter in the other...
“Oh, give me a break,” Rose breathed, spotting what the englishman held. “He’s going to stop an angry mob with fireworks...?”
Constantine lit the sparkler packet and tossed it over his shoulder. The flash and noise was enough to distract the crowd from it’s chanting and in some cases cause outright panic. He pulled out two small, bright colored spheres and lit them as well. When tossed into the crowd they belched out purple smoke. The Cult of the Curse members were starting to lose control. They all seemed to be trying to go in different directions and only succeed in tripping over each other.
“Berks,” Constantine muttered, glancing over his shoulder.
“True, “A voice behind him said. “But they have their uses.
“Oh Shite.”
He turned and found himself face to face with Oogar.
“Do you really think your little prank would stop me?” Oogar’s smile clashed with the bright hatred that shown in his eyes. In one hand he held a thin taper. With arrogant casualness he reached out and lit the Unlit Candle. Then he rapped on the Unrung Bell.
The light and sound blended into one perfect shining ball of magical energy and with a creak the Unread book began to open.
The Phantom Stranger opened his coat and he and Dr. Occult were nearly trampled by a panicky mob of men dressed in rags. They fought their way through the crowd and pressed themselves against the temple wall.
“Constantine didn’t wait,” The Stranger murmured.
“How do you know it wasn’t E?” Occult asked, then glanced around the room. “Nevermind, if it was E there’d be more blood on the floor.”
He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a palm-sized disk. It was split into eight, wedge-shaped sections, in alternating black and white. The disk shone with a soft, white light.
“Rose is here!” Occult exclaimed. He held out the disk and the light grew brighter. “She’s trying ... to escape...? No, she believes she can disrupt the ritual... I think... Oh dear...”
“What, Richard Occult?” The Stranger asked.
“I think Rose may have found a way to make things worse. Come on!” Occult pushed his way into the crowd. “We’ve got to find her!”
Mister E stepped over the body of the last of his attackers. He wiped off his knife on the remaining scraps of his white overcoat. Tossing the ripped and stained garment away, he made his way down a flight of crooked stone stairs. E found himself in an even a more chaotic situation.
Rag-dressed lunatics were running all about, and the blind mystic could feel waves of magical power rolling out from a point at the far side of the room.
“Can’t leave them alone for a moment.” E said, advancing on the crowd of mad cultists.
The air around Oogar rippled with energy, and his body was surrounded by a nimbus of light. He raised his arms and with a bellow of triumph split the fabric of this reality, opening a portal to the next.
“Come forth! Let this be the beginning of a new age!”
A massive hand, skeletal, with skin like yellowed parchment, reached through and grabbed hold of Oogar, cutting him off in mid-rant.
“We will stride forth and... hnn...?!”
The hand began to pull Oogar back towards the rift, squeezing the mage tightly. Oogar’s beautiful, arrogant features were racked with pain as he felt his ribs crack. He beat feebly against the hand that was slowly squeezing the life out of him.
“Nooooo! I... am...Oh...Oogar...! I will not... Arrrghh!”
With a final crunch Oogar flopped about like a puppet with it’s strings cut and was then pulled through the rift.
“I was a bit curious to hear what Oogar will not,” Mister E murmured, joining his fellow mystics. He clothes were smeared with dirt and blood and the knife he held in his hand had had it’s point snapped off during the course of the fighting.
The followers of Oogar had fled, leaving only the dead and those too injured to leave behind.
The Stranger, Constantine and E stood together, gazing worriedly at the rift.
“I thought we were in the Shite before...,” Constantine muttered, lighting a fresh cigarette.
“Oogar’s madness was worse than we had believed,” The Stranger said. “If he thought he could control such a being.”
Mister E merely learned on his cane, keeping his thoughts to himself. Dr. Occult picked his way among the bodies, until he spotted the sphere that held Rose. He scooped it up and peered at the tiny version of his other half.
“What have you done?” He asked sharply.
“I missed you too,” she muttered back. “Seems to me with his protective circle broken I took care of the problem for you guys. I used the magical energy of my prison to erase a couple of Oogar’s runes.“
“Except in disposing of Oogar you have let Nekron loose on the Earth!”
“Nekron?” Rose replied, weakly. “You mean as in the ‘Lord of the Unliving Realm’ Nekron? He who is as death, itself? That Nekron?”
“How many Nekron’s do you know?” Occult asked with a trace of sarcasm.
“How was I supposed to know Oogar would do something as stupid as trying to bind Nekron to his will!? “Rose mumbled, defensively.
“He is the leader of a cult that worships insanity,” Occult reminded her.
“Well, if you guys hadn’t taken so long to rescue me I wouldn’t have felt the need to take drastic measures.”
“Young lady, you and I are going to have a long talk about ‘with great power comes great responsibility’,” Occult said. “Provided we survive this.” He grasped the sphere in both hands and squeezed, pulling it towards him. Soon, sphere and it’s occupant were absorbed into his chest. Richard Occult’s body was briefly bathed in a soft light. When it faded, he smiled.“I missed you too, Rose. Now, let’s go save the world.”
“Domestic squabble taken care of, is it?” Constantine asked, as Occult came to join the other three. “Ready to get killed doing something stupidly heroic?”
“Every day,” Occult replied. “It’s part of the job. What now?”
All four Trenchcoats stood shoulder to shoulder, peering into the rift. The massive, hideous hand of Nekron reached through. It was soon joined by a second hand. They grabbed at the edges of the portal, seeking to further tear the rift. There was a screeching, tearing sound and the rift widened. A face, every bit as massive and cadaver- like as the hands peered through the rift, into the temple. The being’s lipless mouth smiled, it’s yellow eyes shining with evil joy.
“Hello, little mages,” The creature growled, in a voice like the opening of an ancient tomb. Constantine swore he could hear Nekron’s jaw creak like a rusty hinge, when it spoke. Musty, stale air drifted out of the rift along with the low moans of souls in torment. “Come to join me in my lifeless realm or to welcome Nekron to this bright world of the living?”
‘”You’ll come no further, “Mister E announced, sternly. “Death will hold no sway here.”
Nekron chuckled, deep in his thin throat.
“Spare me, little mage, you, of all your fellows, fairly reek of my realm. Say whatever will soothe your bleak soul, but you are naught but an agent of death.”
E’s frown deepened and his grip grew so tight upon his cane, that the others thought he would snap it into kindling.
“You have grown arrogant and begun to believe your own tales, Lord of the unliving,” The Stranger said. “There is no place for you here. Return to your own realm.”
“Ahhh, chosen a side, at long last,” Nekron murmured, peering at the Stranger. “Fallen One, it will take stronger than thee to warn me off...”
“Ah, enough,” Constantine snapped, flicking his cigarette at the rift. “I’ll push you back down your hole just to stop having to listen to ya.”
“Scruffy little mystic, “Nekron snarled. “You have no inkling...”
“Blah, blah,” Constantine interrupted. “Christ, all you types talk the same bullshit. Is there a ‘Book of speeches for evil bastards’? Let’s get this over with. I’m down to my last fag.”
“Good a reason as any,” Dr. Occult muttered, raising up his disk. It shown with a burst of blindingly-white light. The Trenchcoats flinched back from the light, and even Nekron squinted in pain.
“Twas that your best effort?” Nekron growled. “Pity.”
He reached one of his enormous hands out through the portal, grasping for the four mystics.
“If you had a plan to go along with your bluster, John Constantine,” The Stranger said. “Now would be the time to share it with us.”
“Workin on it,” The englishman muttered, uncertainly.
“Must I do everything,” Mister E snapped, striding forward. He drove his broken knife into the flesh of Nekron’s hand.
The Lord of the unliving screeched in pain, his hand flailing about. It struck the blind mystic, sending him reeling backwards. The cloth of his white suit, as well as the flesh beneath, was scorched and torn where Nekron touched him. The Stranger helped him back to his feet.
Nekron drew his wounded hand back into the rift in order to pluck the knife free.
“We gotta close that thing,” Constantine muttered. “Can you lot hold him back, if I fix the smudges in Oogar’s spell?”
“Let’s find out,” Dr. Occult said.
Constantine scrambled over to the circle of runes, trying to stay out of Nekron’s line of sight, as he looked over the spell inscribed on the floor.
Mister E looted through the bodies of the fallen, looking for a suitable replacement for his lost knife. Dr. Occult and the Phantom Stranger stepped up to the edge of the circle and unleashed blasts of magical energy at the jagged opening and into the realm of the dead.
Occult’s disk shown like a miniature sun, while lightening flew from the Stranger’s gloved fingertips. Nekron drew back from the attack. At any attempt to reach out through the rift, Mister E was there, knives at ready.
John Constantine scrambled around the circle, adjusting a rune here, filling in a scuffed bit of the circle there, all the while trying to avoid the flashing blades and power of the various spells being cast by his fellow mystics.
“Gotta be better way to make a livin’,” he muttered, than spat on part of the spell to erase several characters. He replaced them with other symbols, using a piece of chalk he’d fished out of his coat pocket. He looked down at the circle and smiled to himself. Constantine reached out and flicked the Unrung Bell, with a grimey finger nail. Then realized he was standing at the point where several incredibly powerful spells were about to collide.
“Oh Shitte.”
The room shook, raining down dust and bits of the ceiling upon the Trenchcoats. They were tossed about by fierce, other-dimensional gusts of wind. The spells struck and merged, releasing a burst of energy so glaring and hot, that it was like witnessing the birth of a star.
An arc of feedback struck Dr. Occult’s disk, hurling him across the temple, two of John Constatine’s fillings melted and the absorption of energy into Mister E’s already accursed eyes caused his glasses to shatter and him to see visions of other realms and times for the next several days. With a final thunderclap, the rift closed and a section of the ceiling collapsed. A cloud of dust filled the room.
“That could have gone better,” Mister E muttered, crawling free from some wreckage.
“Ow,” Occult breathed, raising his head to look around. He dabbed at a bloody nose with his coat sleeve, then scooped his disk up. “Anyone see what happened to my hat?”
“I mus’ be alive,” Constantine said. “If I’m dead and still stuck with you lot, I wanna speak to the manager.”
“It is done,” The Phantom Stranger said. He stood in his original spot , surveying the wreck of the temple. There was a clear circle around him, clean of all dirt and debris.
“I’ve got to learn how to do that,” Occult muttered, peering at the Stranger.
“Do you guys have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” A new, feminine voice asked.
The Trenchcoats got to their feet and gathered around the new arrival.
“Out o’ the bloody frying pan,” Constantine groaned.
She looked to be a young woman, with pale skin and spiky black hair. She was dressed all in black, high top sneakers, jeans and halter top. The only touch of color were a silver Ankh necklace she wore and her blue eyes.
“Why have you come, O’ Death?” The Stranger asked.
“Death?” Mister E breathed. “The Reaper is a...”
Dr. Occult knudged E in the ribs, before he got any further in his statement.
“We are in enough trouble,” Occult hissed.
“Hello, love,” Constantine said, with a smirk. “Come for me, for real this time?”
Death shook her head and arched an eye brow at the englishman, but soon surrendered to a smile.
“Should have known. Nothing but trouble, whenever there’s a Constantine around. Anybody want to tell me who opened a portal into the Unliving Realm?”
“Ummm... well...” Dr, Occult started.
“The bloke that did it, isn’t here,” Constantine explained. “Got hoisted on his own petard, so to speak.”
“Uh-huh,” Death looked over, to the empty space where the rift had been, then back at the four mystics. “Well, don’t think I won’t be having alittle chat with Nekron about this, but you four...”
She let the sentence drift off, as she looked at each of the Trenchcoats in turn. Suddenly, Constantine couldn’t think of anything clever to say, and even Mister E, averted his eyes.
“This kind of damage to the barriers between the realms. Don’t think I won’t be calling on you guys, if things need fixing. Try and stay out of trouble till then, alright?” Death said. “The bunch of you, worse than my brother.”
And with that, she was gone.
Mister E shook himself and sought to adjust the scorched and dirty remains of his white suit. Dr. Occult ran his fingers through his hair, then began to look around for his missing hat. The Phantom Stranger gave a slight smile, then his expression returned to its usual stoic state.
“Bit like being scolded by your Mum, isn’t it?” Constantine muttered, patting his pockets for a smoke. He found one then walked over to the still burning Unlit candle. He leaned in and once his cigarette was lit, blew the candle out. “Well, world’s saved. Who’s for breakfast?”
Author’s note: Here it is at last, the grand finale.
Not my proudest moment, this mini. Couldn’t get an issue done on time to save my life and I think the I had some problems juggling everyone. Especially in the middle issues. This started out as my ‘Vertigo’ story, but as it went, I realized I wasn’t really a ‘Vertigo’ guy.
Still, I did enjoy writing these guys and hope you enjoyed reading about them. I have some ideas for a sequel, so let me know if you’re interested in seeing more of the Trenchcoat Brigade in action.
Another of Trav’s bits of info for those of you that care:
Oogar: Foe of Captain Marvel’s and member of Mr. Mind’s Monster Society of Evil. Don’t think he’s made any post-Crisis appearances.
Nekron: It took the entire Green Lantern Corps to stop the Lord of the Unliving last time. Way back in the Tales of the Green Lantern Corps mini-series.
Death: The perky older sister of Dream. My favorite character from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series.