Sanctum Sanctorum

Doctor Stephen Strange stepped through an interdimensional doorway into his private study. He had just returned from a mystic pocket dimension where Robert Reynolds, the sometime-Defender known as the Sentry, was being held. With Leonard Samson’s help, Reynolds had slowly begun to gather the fractured pieces of his mind. But the recent episode had driven him even further into disarray. And now, Samson had left the Sanctum, continually irritated with Strange’s unexplained actions as of late.

First Bruce Banner, now Robert Reynolds. Even the Sorcerer Supreme was beginning to question his own judgment. The catastrophic battle between the two Hulks, the reality warp that had something to do with the Sentry, and the recent event with the Avengers and the Squadron Sinister. Stephen Strange wanted nothing more than to relax in his study with a fine scotch and a good book.

“Hello, Stephen.”

Unfortunately, his current guest had other ideas in mind. Daimon Hellstrom sat in a large, antique chair near the fireplace in Stephen’s study. He wore a cloak that seemed to resemble a minister’s robe, but was a dark red color with black trim. His legs were crossed and one hand stroked the red goatee he sported. Combined with his bald head, it gave him a likely-intended resemblance to Anton LaVey.

“Daimon.” Stephen sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“We have some matters to discuss.”

“Is it too much to ask that you knock before entering uninvited?”

“Like yourself?” asked Daimon.

“Fair point.” Stephen walked towards the small liquor cabinet near the bookshelf. “Would you like a drink?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Stephen dropped a few ice cubes into a pair of tumblers and topped each one off with scotch and soda water. He strolled back towards Daimon and handed the Son of Satan one of them. Before Stephen sat in the matching chair opposite Daimon, he gestured with his hand and the Cloak of Levitation, clasped around his neck by the Eye of Agamotto, detached itself and hovered upright behind the chair.

“What’s this about?” asked Stephen.

“I’ve spoken with Mephisto and Sammael. We have a problem, Strange—a big one,” said Daimon. “Not long ago, I exorcised an angel from the body of an innocent child. Gabriel Rosetti kidnapped Jaine from my home. This mysterious Caro Institute tried to install Tiamat into Valkyrie’s body and I imagine the recent disappearances of demons means Tiamat was not their only client. And now, I have received the most disturbing news—Marduk Kurios has returned.”

Stephen nearly choked on his drink at the mention of that last part. “Your father? But you said you killed him.”

“So I thought,” said Daimon. “But to defeat him, I needed his name. And that name had a price. Ironically enough, the only way to acquire the means to defeat him was to provide him with the means to resurrect himself. Something I hadn’t realized until now.”

“What’s this all mean?” asked Stephen.

“It means Heaven is moving all the pieces into place for all-out war on Hell.”

“Hoary hosts of Hoggath…” Stephen’s eyes bulged. “They’re preparing for Armageddon.”

FEAR AND PAYNE

Part I

By Ed Ainsworth and Dino Pollard

The Scarlet Spider leafed through the Daily Bugle as he sat perched on the ceiling of the living room in the Sanctum. “So according to this, the Avengers and the Fantastic Four took care of the mysterious sun in the middle of Manhattan? No mention of the Defenders?”

“Usually isn’t,” said Nighthawk. Both he and the Scarlet Spider were absent from the recent adventure, but were brought up to speed on the events by Sleepwalker. Valkyrie sat nearby, running a sharpening stone down the edge of Dragonfang.

“And this Sentry guy? The Doc’s keeping him around?” asked the Scarlet Spider.

Sleepwalker nodded. “Samson wasn’t too happy about it. Stormed outta here.”

“Anyone think maybe he’s got a point?” asked the Scarlet Spider.

Sleepwalker and Nighthawk looked quizzically at their newest member, but it was Valkyrie who spoke up for their leader. “Stephen Strange has knowledge and senses more advanced than those of mortal man. I have followed him without question to the gates of Hell and back, and I would do so again. If one does not approve of his lead, then Brunnhilde shall show you the exit with earnest conviction.”

“…just a question, that’s it,” said the Scarlet Spider. “No need to step outside, She-Ra.”

Valkyrie tilted her head slightly to the side. “Who is this She-Ra?”

The Hulk lay on the bed in his quarters. A television had been provided for him, as well as a remote control large enough to accommodate his massive hands. The Dirty Dozen played on one of the cable channels and he had been engrossed in it for the past hour when a knock came on his door.

“Whaddaya want?” he bellowed.

Starlight entered the room, a slight golden glow surrounding her crimson-clad body and ebony hair. “I realized we didn’t have much chance to talk after the incident in Siberia.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not really the chatty type,” said the Hulk.

“Be that as it may, I wanted to come and thank you,” said Starlight.

“For what?”

“In the Forbidden Zone, you absorbed a great portion of the radiation that empowers me.”

The Hulk cocked an eyebrow. “So you wanna thank me for making you less powerful?”

“Well…yes,” said Starlight. “Without all that power, I’m no longer at risk of poisoning those near me with radiation. You’ve enabled me to go out into the world once more. Gave me a chance to reconnect with my family.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out,” said the Hulk.

“Please, let me finish.” Starlight walked closer to the Hulk. As she did, the aura around her grew dimmer. “I’d like to return the favor. Kyle told me about your situation. How you don’t know who you really are. I’d like to help you discover your identity.”

“An’ how you gonna do that?”

“Before I became Starlight, I was a neurosurgeon. If you’d allow me to examine you, perhaps I can determine if you’ve suffered any brain damage that caused your amnesia.”

“I’ll think about it. Now get outta my room. I’m tryin’ to watch my favorite movie.”

Starlight nodded. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You did. So go.”

“Very well.”

Just as she turned towards the door, the entire house shook with a great tremor accompanied by a loud boom. Starlight and Hulk exchanged glances and in an instant they both went to the source.

The front door had been replaced by a gaping hole. Valkyrie, the Scarlet Spider, Nighthawk and Sleepwalker were standing around a creature that looked like a walking forest fire. The Man-Thing flailed around, unleashing an inhuman scream as he burned. Doctor Strange and Hellstorm came down the staircase, as surprised by the others at the presence of the creature.

“What happened?” asked Strange.

“No idea, he just burst in!” said Nighthawk. “What do we do?”

The Scarlet Spider flipped around the Man-Thing, dousing him in webbing in hopes of choking the flame. But the fires just burned right through, disintegrating his webbing the instant it touched his marshy flesh. “Anyone else got any ideas? Because this doesn’t seem to be working very well!”

Doctor Strange waved his hands, lines of mystic energy flowing in the wake. Blue energy surrounded the Man-Thing as Strange attempted to extinguish the fires with a water spell. But the water just turned to steam.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Sleepwalker.

“Those who know fear burn at the Man-Thing’s touch,” said Hellstorm. “Apparently, something has frightened him.

A random group of people gathered together in the spacious seating hall of the beautifully-constructed Caro Institute. The people were from all walks of life. Some were rich, some were poor. Children, adults. All different races. A few animals even strutted about calmly in the aisles.

Two men stood to the side of the crowd near the stage, on either side of a locked door. Both were dressed in fine suits. One had a head completely devoid of hair, the other sported a ponytail and a full beard. Both wore dark sunglasses which concealed the hollow sockets that served for their eyes.

“This is quite exciting, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Grant?” asked the bearded man.

“Why, my dear Mr. Moore, I do believe I would say that,” said the bald one. “Pity about Mr. White, though.”

“Ahh yes, indeed,” said Mr. Moore. The two men then shook their heads and sorrowfully said in unison, “poor, poor Mr. White.”

Mr. White had been their superior in the Caro Institute before he was killed by the Valkyrie. Mr. White attempted to install a demon in Valkyrie’s body, but she was able to break free. She not only forced Tiamat away, but then took Mr. White’s life.

“Fortunately for us, the Chief Executive Officer has decided to make his presence known!” said Mr. Grant.

“Truly, truly exciting indeed, Mr. Grant!” Mr. Moore gestured at the large crowd gathered before them. “Just look at all these wonderful clients! All demons who have been given a new chance at life by our dear leader.”

The door between them unlocked and out stepped a man with a bald head, heavy mascara and what seemed to be a letterbox for a mouth. He, too, was dressed in a fine suit and he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and jacket.

“Mr. Moore, Mr. Grant,” he said. “Are we ready to proceed?”

“Yes sir, quite,” said the pair in unison.

“Splendid.”

The man stepped up to the stage and was handed a microphone by an assistant to address the crowd of people. He tapped the microphone and spoke into it, launching right into his sales pitch. “Ladies, gentlemen…and animals, I suppose. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Termineus, founder of the Caro Institute!”

He bowed slightly and was greeted with a round of applause.

“Now then, I know what you’re all thinking. ‘How could such an amazing creature such as Mr. Termineus actually exist? How could I ever hope to be like him?’ Well, my friends, let me tell you that it’s not easy—but it’s also not impossible.

“You see, I was not always the popular, beautiful, and clever individual you see before you! I come from a place you all know well. That infernal land we have come to know as Hell. I’ve existed since the days before humans knew they were going to the toilet and spent their days eating and touching themselves. And I made a mistake—I mistreated my wife and was sent to Hell.

“And I’ll tell you, my friends, it. Was. Awful! I spent a millennia there, trying desperately to escape and learn secrets I could trade so I could at least reach a slightly-more bearable level of Hell. A level where I didn’t have to lay with a bitch of a demon who ate my genitals every night with her fifteen lady-part mouths and popped out babies made from decaying placentas who wanted to strangle me with their filthy umbilical cords.

“But, I digress. The point, my friends, which I am trying to make is this: Hell ain’t no place for a demon!”

He paused and the hall was filled with applause. Mr. Termineus waited for it to subside and then continued.

“So what did I do? Well, I got my shit together, is what I’m saying!”

Laughter followed that remark.

“I got my shit together and I established this lovely place you now find yourselves in—the Caro Institute! A place where we can lease out the bodies of mortal creatures so demons can have a home away from home!”

Sanctum Sanctorum

Doctor Strange continually attempted to douse the flames that engulfed the Man-Thing, but nothing worked. Instead, all he could do was cast a soothing spell to calm the manic beast. It worked and the Man-Thing ceased his thrashing.

“What is this thing?” asked Sleepwalker.

“The Man-Thing. A creature who guards the Nexus of All Realities,” said Hellstorm.

“This is too much,” said Doctor Strange. “Daimon, you said demons have gone missing and you believe it’s tied to the Caro Institute?”

“I think it seems only likely,” said Hellstorm.

“Caro?” asked the Valkyrie. Her grip tightened around Dragonfang. “I would slay those who dared to imprison the great Brunnhilde!”

“This is all tied together, I believe,” said Doctor Strange. “And perhaps our new arrivals could help us answer some of these questions?”

Before anyone could ask the question, “what new arrivals?” it was answered for them. The Man-Thing stepped aside and now standing in the gaping hole that was once the front door was a yellow woman with white hair and eyes. She was so thin it looked as if she’d been flattened by a steamroller. In her string-like arms was another figure, this one clad in a blue bodysuit with a skullcap. He had red bands which crisscrossed his chest and a flowing red cape with a flared collar.

“Anyone wanna lend an old teammate a hand?” asked the Devil-Slayer.