He approached the doors of the Sacred Heart Convent for the Sisters of the Holy Sepulcher, wearing a leather trench coat buttoned over his chest and a fedora hat. No time was wasted on knocking and he just pulled the door open and stepped inside the chapel, sliding his hands inside the pockets of his coat. There were about two dozen nuns sitting in the pews, engaged in silent prayer, all of them wearing white habits.

The sound of his entrance didn’t even disturb them, save for one in the first row. She looked over her shoulder at him and rose, walking down the aisle to meet him halfway and gave him a friendly smile. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“And who might that be?”

“Gabriel Rosetti.”

The nun’s smile faded at the mention of that name. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”

The man’s lips curled into a snarl. “Don’t lie to me, woman.”

“Your tone makes me uncomfortable, sir. Please leave now. This is a holy place.”

He chortled. “Holy. That’s very amusing.” His hands emerged from his pockets to undo the buttons on his coat. When he opened it, the Mother Superior gasped at the sight. He wore no shirt beneath the garment, but what shocked her was the inverted pentagram on his chest.

“You have no purpose here, demon!” she hissed, stepping away from him.

“Don’t insult me, I’m far more than just a simple demon.” He removed the fedora to reveal a freshly-shaven head. A red goatee framed his dark grin and he possessed eyes that burned like hot coals. “I’m Daimon Hellstrom.”

“And we are far more than a simple convent…” At the Mother Superior’s words, the other nuns rose from the pews and gathered behind her. “Gun Nuns, draw!”

The nuns threw open their habits, revealing firearms strapped to their bodies. They drew their weapons and trained them on the man called Hellstorm. The pentragram on his chest burned bright and a burst of flames extended from both ends of his closed fist, forming into the shape of his netharanium trident. As the Gun Nuns opened fire, Hellstorm twirled the trident in front of his body, the motion trails creating a shield of hellfire that protected him from their holy ammunition.

He vanished in a flash of hellfire, rematerializing behind the nuns. Hellstorm held his trident in both hands, aiming at the women warriors. From the points, bursts of hellfire shot forth and incinerated a few of the sisters. He charged into them, stabbing and slashing his way through them, burning a path through their bodies.

Within a matter of moments, all the Gun Nuns with the exception of the Mother Superior lay dead at Hellstorm’s feet. The Mother Superior threw her guns to the side and pulled the ornate, golden crucifix hanging from her neck and raised it above her head. A silver blade emerged from the end and she charged at Hellstorm, bringing it down upon him. Hellstorm caught the blade between the tines of his trident and twisted, casting it to the side. He used the blunt end of the trident to sweep the Mother Superior and she fell on her back. Hellstorm planted a booted foot on her chest and put the points of his trident against her throat.

“This is your one chance to live—tell me where Rosetti is.”

“You cannot find him yourself, can you?” she asked. “The power of Heaven is shielding him, meaning he is necessary for the future.”

“You’re a misguided fool, you have no idea what it is you truly serve.”

“You are the one who is misguided, Hell Lord. The forces of Heaven are coming for you and your unholy brethren. And soon, the full wrath of the Lord will rain down upon you.”

The Mother Superior’s words were punctuated by the sound of rumbling and the quaking of the convent. Hellstorm stepped off her body and relaxed his trident. The Mother Superior laughed as the tremors increased.

“You see? Your judgment is at hand, Son of Satan! You cannot stop what is coming!”

Hellstorm could sense the extreme power coming down and though he still needed answers, he knew he wouldn’t find them here. He slammed his trident on the ground, a pillar of flames rising around him and transporting him to safety.

The tremors ceased as the doors to the chapel shattered into splinters. A figure sauntered down the aisle, clad in golden armor and a white loincloth, with ribbons and her flowing red hair billowing behind her as she walked. Her head was adorned by a tiara with wings of gold framing her face. In one hand she clutched a broad sword and the other held an axe. She approached the Mother Superior and knelt down before her.

“You came… just as the angels said you would in our hour of need…” said the Mother Superior.

“Yes,” said the warrior. “Who did this?”

“The Prince of Lies,” said the Mother Superior.

The warrior’s eyes burned with righteous anger. “Hellstrom.” She set down her axe and caressed the Mother Superior’s face. “You have served the angels well and they are not blind to your plight. Rest easy knowing that you have done great things, and your sacrifice shall not be in vain.”

“Sacrifice?” asked the Mother Superior.

The warrior stood, picking up her axe as she did. She brought it around in a wide arc and slammed the blade down on the Mother Superior’s neck. The warrior turned from the nun’s body and held out her arms, looking up at the large crucifix over the altar.

“All of Hell’s spawn shall die by my hand, so swears Angela!”

HELL’S ANGELS

Part I

By Dino Pollard

Sanctum Sanctorum

Ben Reilly descended the steps of Doctor Strange’s home, approaching the living room. The Hulk and Devil-Slayer both sat in front of the large-screen television, watching The Dirty Dozen, while Valkyrie and Starlight sat in a pair of chairs near the fireplace talking and sharing coffee. Ben drew in a deep breath through the red mask he wore as the Scarlet Spider—a mask he now realized he hadn’t taken off once in the company of his strange teammates.

“Hey guys, I just wanted to say—”

“What, yer buggin’ out, too?” The crimson behemoth called the Hulk gave a huff. “Good riddance. Got no room for weak-kneed bastards like you, Sleepwalker, or Nighthawk.”

“Easy, Hulk,” said Starlight, rising from her chair. The Valkyrie stood as well and the two women approached the Scarlet Spider. Devil-Slayer also tore his attention away from watching Lee Marvin to give his now-former teammate his ear.

“There are some things I’ve gotta do on my own, rediscover my life and what it is I’m gonna do with it now that I’m no longer a pile of ash,” said the Scarlet Spider. “I think part of the reason I’ve stuck with this team so long is that I’ve been avoiding doing just that.”

“You’ve been a valiant warrior, ’tis been an honor to have fought by your side, friend Scarlet,” said the Valkyrie, offering a smile to the Scarlet Spider as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Val’s sentiments echo my own. I know what it’s like to have to rediscover your life after spending so much time…lost,” said Starlight. “Should you need anything, we’ll be here for you.”

Ben smiled beneath his mask. “Thanks Val, Star. It’s been…surreal I guess is the right word.”

“Kinda comes with the territory when you’re running with the Defenders,” said the Devil-Slayer, approaching the three. “Sorry I didn’t get to know you, but hope you find what it is you’re looking for.”

The Devil-Slayer offered his hand and the Scarlet Spider graciously accepted it. “Thanks, buddy. What about the Doc? Wanted to thank him. And Daimon, too. Might not even be back if not for him.”

“The Doctor is unavailable at the moment. He’s asked not to be disturbed.” The voice belonged to Wong, faithful servant to the Sorcerer Supreme, who descended the staircase. “And I have not heard from Daimon since your return from the incident with the Grandmaster.”

“I should probably wait then, would be pretty rude to just swing off before I’ve had a chance to thank him properly,” said Ben.

Wong held up his hand and shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Master Scarlet. The Doctor is well aware of your gratitude and he would say you’ve already spent far too much time delaying the inevitable. No sense in further delay.”

“So guess that’s it, then.” The Scarlet Spider gave a final glance to the Hulk, whose back remained to him. “I’ll see you around, big guy.”

The Hulk ignored the parting comment and the Scarlet Spider shrugged. “Hey, I tried.”

“Godspeed, my friend.” Wong bowed and the Scarlet Spider mimicked his gesture. The web-slinger let himself out through the front door and once he was out in front of the Sanctum, shot out a webline and swung from Greenwich Village.

In the study of Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme’s body hovered in the middle of the room, his legs folded in the lotus position and the back of his hands resting on his knees, his fingertips clasped together. His eyes were shut and for all intents and purposes, he seemed to be asleep.

But in reality, Strange’s conscious mind was nowhere near his body. His astral form hovered in the middle of a vast abyss with swirling streams of various colors surrounding him. A red streak grew larger before Strange’s eyes, taking on the form of the head of a lion with glowing red eyes. A blue streak took the form of the head of an old man with purple skin and azure eyes. And a final streak of white took the shape of the head of a beautiful, golden-skinned woman whose white eyes shone as bright as stars.

The three heads all spoke in unison: “Who summons the Vishanti?”

“It is I, Sorcerer Supreme,” said Strange. “I have need of wisdom which can only come from the Light of Truth, the Lady of the Skies, and the Lord of Hosts.”

“Your request has been honored, Stephen Strange. Speak now.”

“I and my Defenders have faced numerous threats which have raised many questions,” said Strange. “I’ve been compelled by a kind of intuition to take actions that feel…wrong. I allowed Bruce Banner to escape, ignoring the screams of the innocents who perished in Seattle, calling out for justice. I altered the memories of Tony Stark, Reed Richards, and Hank McCoy—men I would have once called friends—so that they could not take the Sentry into custody. And then there is the matter of the Caro Institute, the Grandmaster and the Scarlet Centurion’s game, and the information Hellstorm has uncovered regarding a war brewing between Heaven and Hell. There are so many questions, I do not know where to begin.”

“Then perhaps we should start with the most pressing matter, that of the Asura.”

“The Asura? The assassins of Heaven?”

“The Asura wish nothing less than the destruction of the Infernal Court, Stephen Strange. They have already dispatched the Potentate, the most dangerous weapon in Heaven’s arsenal, to destroy the champions of Hell. As those champions fall, so too falls the Infernal Court. Such a thing may not come to pass.”

“And if it should?” asked Strange.

“Should the Infernal Court fall, Hell will come into the hands of Heaven. This will eradicate the delicate balance between order and chaos and the consequences are too vast for any mortal–even one as powerful as you—to truly comprehend. Suffice to say, this is your priority.”

“What of the rest?”

“The one you call the Sentry will awaken soon, and those answers will be revealed to you, as will the role of the one you call Bruce Banner. Concern yourself not with the machinations of lesser creatures such as the Grandmaster and the one you believed to be the Scarlet Centurion. Your actions have had purpose, and you have lived up to your role as Sorcerer Supreme. Even if you do not yet realize the importance of those actions.”

Catherine Deshayes sat in front of her fireplace, reading quietly. The wood cracked and the flames flared up even more, lurching out from the confines of their brick prison. They moved along a path, circling the chair of the witch, but she seemingly had no concern for their presence. She just turned another page and continued reading.

A figure emerged from the fireplace, his leather trench coat a dark, blood-like color and his eyes burning like hot coals with rage. In his hand was a golden trident and the inverted pentagram tattooed on his chest glowed brightly.

“LaVoisin!”

The witch who called herself that name closed the book and calmly looked up into the face of the powerful creature who stood before her. “Honestly, Daimon. Such theatricality.”

Hellstorm raised his trident, the spokes pointing at LaVoisin’s face. “My son. Tell me where he is or face the consequences!”

“Don’t you mean your father?” asked LaVoisin. She set the book on the small table beside her chair. “And to answer the question that plays upon your tongue, yes, I knew all along that should I accept your seed, the offspring would be Marduk Kurios reborn in human form. I also knew one day you would seek him out, which is why he has been sent away for his own protection and education.”

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” asked Hellstorm. “The Asura now moves against Hell itself. I just had an encounter with the Sisters of the Holy Sepulcher. There was something else there, something with vast power that dwarfed even that of a Lord of Hell. My father, Rosetti, the Asura, and now this. It cannot be coincidence that these events are converging simultaneously.”

LaVoisin gave a smile. “There are no coincidences, my dear Daimon. This was all orchestrated by your father. And you played your part to perfection, like the good little marionette you’ve always been.”

Hellstorm grit his teeth, eyes blazing. He thrust the trident forward, driving its spokes through LaVoisin’s chest to silence her cackling. Her eyes froze in position and her mouth retained the dark smile, but the life faded from her form quickly. Hellstorm pulled out the trident.

“Perhaps it’s time for a long-delayed family reunion.”

He slammed the trident on the ground and Hellstorm vanished in a column of flames.

Angela finished burying the last of the Gun Nuns and re-entered the chapel. She approached the altar, laying her broad sword and axe before the steps. The warrior ascended the steps and knelt before the cross of Jesus Christ, clasping her hands together and turning her head towards Heaven, eyes shut tightly.

A soft, blue light came from the ceiling and the form of an angel clad in armor and clutching a flaming sword descended, hovering before Angela. She opened her eyes and gazed upon the angel, tears of joy blurring her vision and a bright smile appearing on her face as she stood.

“You have done well, Angela.”

“Thank you, my Lord Zadkiel,” she said. “I live to serve the Asura.”

“Indeed you do, and now the time has come for the next phase of our plan.” Zadkiel gestured his hand out at the empty chapel. “This was once home to the most devout of the Presence’s followers. And the Prince of Lies has seen fit to slaughter them. We must not let this act of aggression go unpunished. The Son of Satan must be destroyed, as must all the champions of Hell.”

Zadkiel lowered himself closer to Angela and rested his open palm upon her head. “You are the greatest of Heaven’s weapons, my child. You are the Chosen One and only you can eradicate Hell’s infernal spawn.”

“I shall find them, my Lord,” said Angela, rising to her feet. “And when I do, they will feel the unrelenting power of God’s love.”

Sanctum Sanctorum

When Doctor Strange emerged from his study, he immediately had Wong summon together the Defenders. They all came to his study, gathered in a semi-circle around their leader. Doctor Strange folded his arms, casting eyes across all of them.

“I have spoken with the Vishanti,” he said. “And it seems that Daimon’s fears were accurate—Heaven means to overtake Hell.”

“Maybe it’s just me, but why’s that such a bad thing?” asked the Devil-Slayer. “We’ve fought against the forces of Hell many times, shouldn’t we be looking for Heaven’s nearest recruiting station?”

“We have opposed the forces of Hell, yes. But this is different, Eric,” said Strange. “There is a balance between Heaven and Hell that must be maintained—not so elementary as good and evil but more order and chaos. If one should overtake the other, the balance will be destroyed and we cannot have that. It would lead to a series of catastrophic events on a cosmic scale.”

“A chain reaction,” said Starlight.

Strange nodded. “Precisely. Despite our past conflicts with Hell, this is more important. The Asura, Heaven’s deadliest warriors, have dispatched a powerful weapon known as the Potentate to eradicate the champions of Hell.”

“Whaddaya mean champions?” asked the Hulk.

“Warriors who will serve as Hell’s solitary line of defense. They are products of Hell and Earth, and I have seen their faces,” said Strange. “Many of them are names we are all familiar with. And it is our duty to protect them.”

John Blaze rode his motorcycle across a long stretch of road through the Arizona desert. He pulled over to the side and unzipped his leather jacket just enough to reach inside and take out a pack of cigarettes. He put one in his mouth and lit it, resting as he looked out over the expanse of desert.

“John Blaze.”

Blaze perked up at the sound of his name and glanced over his shoulder. Standing in the middle of the road was a woman with long, red hair, clutching a sword and an axe with ribbons seeming to circle around her figure.

“Your end is at hand, Spirit of Vengeance,” said Angela, raising her sword and pointing the blade at him.

Blaze sighed and flicked the cigarette off into the distance. “And here I was wondering why things’ve been so quiet lately.” His face turned bright red and he tugged at his collar as flames erupted from his neck, engulfing his entire head. The flesh melted from his face until all that was left was a pure white skull. The tires on Blaze’s bike ignited as well and flames circled his body, forming a long chain held in the palm of his hand.

“You wanted the Ghost Rider, you got the Ghost Rider, bitch!”

To be continued…