A shooting star in broad daylight is a strange sight. And as the people in New York City look up, the realization quickly comes that it’s not a star at all, but a flaming meteor, which crashed into the center of town in the middle of a busy intersection. The cars swerved to try and avoid it, but the flames caught the gas tank of one vehicle, creating an explosion in the streets.

Something rose from within the heart of the fire, a figure calmly surveying the damage. The flames seemed to subside, entering the man’s body until only smoke and ash remained where once was a raging inferno.

His short, blond hair was tussled and his gold uniform was torn to pieces. The blue cape was in tatters, although his symbol, the stylized S on his abdomen, remained in pristine condition and even seemed to glow as he moved.

The Sentry had returned from his travels.

Bystanders milled around the scene, watching this strange man move through the crowd, mumbling to himself. He grabbed one of the bystanders, a man in a suit and tie and started shaking him.

“Do you understand?” asked the Sentry. “It was the Sun King from Beyond the Pale Storm! His power grows strong, we must get the word out!”

“Y-you’re crazy! Let me go!”

The Sentry cocked his head to the side. “Crazy? Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you? It’s the SUN KING FROM BEYOND THE PALE STORM!”

“Oh sweet Jesus, please just let me go!”

“Of course,” said the Sentry, tossing the man back a good ten feet. “I was stupid to think you’d understand. None of you understand what lies out there beyond the stars. But I do. And soon, the whole world will know the truth. This world isn’t real, it’s time to bring back the truth.”

As the Sentry walked from the intersection, where the fires once were was now a small, glowing orb that began to increase in size. It was almost like a sun, right in the heart of the city. And as it grew larger, changes began to fall over the populace. Clothing and cars shifted as the light struck it, becoming something more akin to a scene from the nineteen-sixties.

The Sentry turned, looking over the scene and smiled, his own costume now mysteriously repaired. “That’s better. Everything is now coming together the way it should. Soon, we’ll destroy this illusion, bring the world back to what it’s supposed to be.”

A young boy around thirteen sat at a bus stop, listening to music on his iPod. The Sentry strolled over to the youth, placing a hand on his shoulder. The boy backed away immediately, taking out the earbuds.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, you perv?”

“That kind of language is simply uncalled for, Billy.”

“Billy? Who the hell’s Billy?”

“Billy Turner, I won’t stand for this kind of insolence,” said the Sentry, folding his arms. “Haven’t I taught you better than this?”

The kid stood from the bench, starting to back away. “Look man, I have no idea who the fuck you are and I don’t really care. Just stay away from me, okay? You’re outta your fuckin’ mind, du—”

The boy spotted the glowing sun a few feet away and turned to look at it. He placed his hand at his brow to try and filter out some of the light, but the brightness was too much. The hand dropped and the boy found himself bathed within it. When he looked back at the Sentry, he smiled. His clothes had now changed to a similar uniform as the Sentry’s, but with the colors inverted.

The Sentry grinned at him. “How do you feel, Scout?”

“Golly, Sentry, I feel great! But I’m sure I’ll feel better once we find some ne’er-do-wells to put a stop to!

“I was thinking the same thing, old chum. Come, let’s eradicate the scourge of evil from this city! Up, up and away!”

The pair rocketed into the sky, both leaving a trail of golden energy behind them as they flew.

THE GOLDEN AGE

Part I

By Ed Ainsworth and Dino Pollard

The Sanctum Sanctorum

“You sure you’re okay?” asked Sleepwalker. “You’ve barely said a word since the thing with the Hulks.”

Doctor Leonard Samson stood at the second-floor window of Doctor Strange’s home, looking over Greenwich Village. His interest was not the view of the neighborhood, but rather the crimson behemoth who stood on the front lawn.

“I’m trying to figure out what Stephen’s game is,” said Samson. “Bruce has lost it, becoming the very threat Thunderbolt Ross always said he was. After everything the Hulk has done recently, why would Stephen just let him go?”

“Y’know what I wanna know?” asked Sleepwalker. “What’s the deal with Red down there? You’d think after the Doc put that sleeping spell on him, he’d be so pissed, he’d start tearing down walls.”

“There’s something off about the Red Hulk. When he saw Bruce on TV, it was like something clicked on in his mind and he went crazy with rage. Now that Bruce is gone, he’s back to normal,” said Samson. “There’s one thing we know for certain—his strength, his ability to absorb and generate radiation, his connection and hatred of Bruce—the Red Hulk was and likely still is intended as a weapon against the Green Hulk.”

“And what about the guys who went to that dead dimension with Spider-Man and Brother Voodoo?” asked Sleepwalker. “They’ve been in there with Strange and that new guy they brought back for over an hour now.”

She had been walking for what felt like miles. The previous battle had left her weakened. There was only one way she knew of to make sense of what had happened to her. And for that, she needed to head to Greenwich Village.

Assuming she had the strength to make it.

Wong held out the steaming cup of tea for the Scarlet Spider. He took it in one hand, pulling his mask up just above his nose with the other, and then started to drink it. Wong placed a gentle hand on the web-slinger’s shoulder. “Slowly, my friend. It’s very potent.”

The Scarlet Spider coughed a little. “I’ll say! What sort of leaves is this made from, Doc?”

“Ones not found in this dimension,” said Doctor Strange. “The tea will help you adjust to the corporeal world again. You’ve still been quite shaken up by your entire ordeal.”

“That’s why we’re here, though, we can help you through this,” said Nighthawk. “The Doc and I have both been to Hell before, and I’ve even been dead. Plus Daimon, well, the Son of Satan isn’t exactly a metaphor.”

“Actually, it is,” said Hellstorm. “My father was Marduk Kurios, a former Hell-Lord once worshipped by the Sumerians. He falsely took on the names Satan and Lucifer in order to increase his power.”

“Okay Mr. Smartass, then why do you still call yourself the Son of Satan?” asked Nighthawk.

“Because if you look at the definition of the word, Satan means adversary—ergo any demon could technically be called Satan,” said Hellstorm. “And to address your second point, the Scarlet Spider was not in Hell.”

“I thought it was pretty hellish myself,” said the Scarlet Spider.

“Yes, but it was not the actual Hell. You were trapped in one of the realms of the dead. Specifically, a pocket dimension.”

“How’s that work?” asked Nighthawk.

“Because he wasn’t a real person,” said Hellstorm.

“Hey, standing right here!” said the Scarlet Spider.

“Could you possibly be more of a jackass?” asked Nighthawk.

“Keep prattling on as you have been and we’ll find out,” said Hellstorm.

“Gentlemen, please,” said Doctor Strange. “What Daimon meant to say, in his own crash fashion, is that the Scarlet Spider has a very unique genetic structure. He’s not the product of natural conception, he’s a clone of Spider-Man.”

“So what, he has no soul?” asked Nighthawk.

“Well actually, there’s no scientific evidence to prove the existence of the soul,” said the Scarlet Spider.

“Science knows nothing of how this world truly works,” said Hellstorm.

“Daimon’s right,” said Doctor Strange. “However, science is capable of disturbing the natural order. The Scarlet Spider is proof of this. So when he died, the rules weren’t the same for him. He slipped through the cracks, so to speak. And unfortunately, so too did this Jack the Ripper character you encountered.”

“This is all kinds of weird…” muttered the Scarlet Spider before taking another sip of his tea.

“Stay with us for a while, Scarlet. We’re a pretty good group…with some exceptions.” Nighthawk cast a glare at Hellstorm, who simply chortled.

“I dunno, this isn’t really my deal. The things you guys go up against aren’t really in my field of experience.”

“Perhaps you could use that sort of exposure, help you readjust to this world once more,” said Doctor Strange. “Regardless, the Defenders are a loose affiliation, so you’re free to stay if you like. And if you’d prefer to go out on your own, you’re welcome to do that as well.”

“Tell you the truth…” the Scarlet Spider began. “I could kinda use a place to crash. At least for a little bit. Until I can get a job or something.”

Doctor Strange smiled. “Of course, my friend. We have plenty of room. And I would appreciate having some additional company. The Hulk is hardly what one might call a saintly roommate.”

“Right, the Hulk,” said the Scarlet Spider. “By the way, could someone explain just what the hell that’s all about?”

“Might wanna have a drink first,” said Nighthawk.

The broadsword dragged on the street behind her, kicking up sparks. In most places, a statuesque woman in a cape and armor carrying a sword might be viewed as suspicious. But this was Greenwich Village.

She looked up at the sign posted at the intersection—Bleecker Street. This was it. She had remembered how to get here. As she walked up the path to 177A Bleecker Street, she glanced up at the large, round window—the Seal of the Vishanti. She paid no attention to the Hulk, who just watched her limp past.

Nearly falling against the door, she dropped the sword and raised her hand, pounding on it. Growing impatient for a response, she pounded harder and louder. Within a few moments, the large door opened and she almost collapsed into the arms of Wong.

“Mistress Valkyrie!” Wong held her in his arms, trying to keep her from hitting the ground. He looked up at the Hulk. “Sir, would you mind giving me a hand?”

The Hulk huffed. “Fine.” He collected her in his massive arms and gently carried her inside the mansion. Wong moved before him, clearing off the couch and setting a few pillows on one end. The Hulk carefully laid her down.

“Wong, please get Brunnhilde some water,” said Doctor Strange, hovering down the large staircase, flanked by the rest of the Defenders present. Wong offered a deep bow and went to the kitchen to perform his duties. Doctor Strange moved over to Valkyrie’s side and knelt down by her, gently laying a hand on her forehead.

“What could have done this to Val?” asked Nighthawk.

“Once she recovers, we can find out,” said Doctor Strange. “Val, can you hear me? It’s Stephen.”

The Valkyrie’s eyes slowly opened and she managed a weak smile. “Stephen. Odin be praised, I’ve found you, old friend.”

“You have. Val, what happened to you?” Doctor Strange took the glass of water when it was offered to him by Wong. He nodded a thank you to his manservant and helped the Valkyrie sip it.

“It was called the Caro Institute. An organization which procures bodies for demonic inhabitation. They had wanted to use Samantha Parrington’s form, because of her connection to the Valkyrior.”

“Last time I saw Samantha, seemed like her powers were fading,” said Nighthawk.

The Valkyrie nodded. “Indeed they were, friend Kyle. My essence was stolen from the field of battle in Asgard, bonded once more with the Parrington girl, in order to increase her power so she would be worthy of the vile Tiamet.”

“Tiamet?” Hellstorm cocked a brow. “Isn’t that interesting.”

“What’s Tiamet?” asked the Scarlet Spider.

“Not what, who. She’s a particularly vicious demon. If she has designs on Earth, we might have trouble on our hands,” said Hellstorm.

“Tiamet is not the concern. I vanquished her in battle.”

“She’ll be back. And she’ll be pissed,” said Hellstorm. “And we should be ready.”

“Ready for what?” asked Doctor Strange.

“You’ll see.” Hellstorm slammed his trident on the ground and vanished in a burst of flames with the lingering scent of brimstone.

“Drama queen,” scoffed Nighthawk.

Doctor Strange hovered above the Valkyrie, the Eye of Agamotto projecting a beam of light which scanned her entire body. “You have no permanent injuries, simply exhaustion. You should be fine with a little rest. Wong—” He looked at his servant. “Please prepare a room for both Val and the Scarlet Spider. I have a feeling both will be staying for a while.”

“Whoa nelly, look down there, Sentry!” said Scout.

The Sentry cast his eyes downward and indeed saw what Scout did as well—Lindy Lee, walking along the sidewalk with her pet corgi on a leash skipping ahead of her. The Sentry smiled and swooped down, scooping up the woman in his arms. Scout followed, picking up the corgi and the quartet flew towards the center of the city.

“Put me down, you freak!” shouted the woman.

“Lindy, no need to be like that,” said the Sentry.

“Who the hell is Lindy? My name is Beth!”

“Lindy please, all you need to do is turn back into the Sentress and all will be well,” said the Sentry.

“The what?”

“Just look,” said the Sentry, pointing ahead. “Look at the sun. How bright and beautiful it is. The source of our powers. Don’t you feel it, Lindy?”

As the woman watched, her short, black hair grew out, turning blond and a costume started to appear on her body. Likewise, the corgi changed as well, a uniform also appearing on him. The woman, now fully transformed into the Sentress, passionately kissed her lover.

“Ewww, don’t look, Watchdog!” said Scout, closing his eyes and covering the dog’s with his hand. Watchdog whimpered in response.

When they broke the kiss, the Sentry and the Sentress smiled at each other. “It’s good to have you back, my love.”

“I’m so happy to be back with you,” said the Sentress.

“Holy Sixties, Sentry!” shouted Scout. “Look out now, but we’ve got trouble!”

The Sentry and the Sentress looked down to the streets. There, below the glow of the mysterious new sun, was a young man with long hair, a handlebar mustache, a headband and round sunglasses. He wore a tie-dye shirt that read PEACE LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING and wore a necklace with the peace sign attached to the end.

“Is that who I think it is, my darling?” asked the Sentress.

“It is.” The Sentry narrowed his eyes and they began to crackle with golden energy. “My arch-nemesis, the Hippie, has returned to spread his chaotic, communist plots!”

To Be Continued