James Woo, Agent of SHIELD glanced up from the computer monitor and looked about the small, steamy room uneasily. There was something in the air, something not quite right he felt, a feeling that he had come to know quite well.

Woo had spent the better portion of his adult life on the trail of the international criminal mastermind self-proclaimed the Yellow Claw. The terrorist had become the bane of his existence, at least in the beginning, his evil Nationalist dealings wrecking havoc on the world and drawing the young agent of the FBI into his intricate web of intrigue. It was only by the grace of his GrandNiece, Su Wan that Woo had not killed the would-be despot outright. It was not as though he had not had ample opportunity over the years. Not like he had not tried.

It had been the intervention of Nicolas Fury and SHIELD that in the end had saved the Shinpan. Fury had taken over the hunt for the Claw, but in the end even the vaunted prestige and ability of the Director of SHIELD had proven too little against the Yellow Devil. The Yellow Claw had escaped that initial encounter, but not without great loss both to himself and to Woo.

Su Wan had died, and James Woo had died with her, at least in spirit.

But then, he had died in body too hadn’t he?

He joined SHIELD shortly thereafter and he could not deny that his missions had been important and world encompassing. He had worked closely with Fury, his initial hate for the man eventually giving way to respect. Fury’s old-soldier attitude and American cowboy antics had served him well and together they had saved the very planet several times over. At least until the Deltite Affair.

SHIELD had crumbled after that and had never regained its former status. Fury had been outcast, his organization run by a computer for a time. True, there was still a place for Woo, but it was not the same. The glory was gone. He had no drive for the missions that the new regime offered. Woo had lost his edge, or most of it at least, even though Fury had eventually returned.

Lightning flared again as he closed his work and put the computer on stand-by. His office illuminated in a garish white light as thunder rumbled shaking the very foundations of the building. He shoved back from the desk and stood, walking to the one table along the wall that held a coffee maker and hot plate. His desk, a few folding chairs leaning against the wall, his computer and a television were all that he needed for the job at hand. Steam spewed from the radiator, misty clouds swirling to the battered ceiling. It was a lonely existence, but nothing that he did not deserve for his failures.

Su Wan was dead…

He sipped at his coffee, watching the rain as it pounded on the thin glass. The streets were awash and messages noted that the vermin were crawling from the sewers and running the streets. There was a fire in the distance, a reddish glow rising from the East Side just a few blocks inland.

There was something in the air. Something wicked coming his way…

Lightning and a reflection in the glass, swirling shadows of darkness. Woo spun, his coffee mug flying from his hand as he reached for his gun. The mist from the radiator coalesced and thickened, a dark and shadowy cloaked figure forming before him. James Woo fired, emptying the clip of his Beretta into the shifting black body as it took on form and solidity. It seemed to ignore the bullets.

Woo stared at the form clad in black, a gray fedora on its head and smoky cloak swirling about. It seemed vaguely familiar, a vision of the past half-remembered from files he had seen years ago. Midnight! The Devil Doctor’s assassin!

He was dead…

Dead like Su Wan…

Jimmy Woo, Agent of SHIELD cast his gun aside and struck a defensive pose. He was not so lax that he would be beaten without a fight. He had sensed the assassin, after all, his own senses screaming at the absurdity, the bizarre circumstance. He had fought the creatures of the Yellow Claw. He had survived the intricacies of the self-proclaimed savior of the world, Centurius, in the Antarctic wastes. He was an Agent of SHIELD!

James Woo screamed, leaping forward with a high kick that passed through the very form of the mist enshrouded shadow assassin. His foot struck the wall, shattering plaster and bone alike as he was unprepared for the secondary impact. He fell to the floor trying to ignore the pain in his leg as he spun about. Midnight stood before him, his ashen cloak flowing into shadow.

“Come on then! End it!” Woo shouted, his eyes blazing as the assassin loomed. He raised his hands as the Devil Doctor’s cur reared back, his mouth opening wide. Fangs sprouted from the black mask covering his face as he hissed, a strangled sound that made Woo’s blood run cold.

He was not to die he realized with regret. Not again…

Not tonight…

BLOOD BATH!

By Curtis Fernlund

NOTE: This series takes place prior to the events of West Coast Avengers #1

Manhattan:
The Lower East Side

Eric Arcane staggered slightly as his spell washed over the horde of rats that were scrambling across the block. Fires burst up as the vermin exploded caught in his magicks. He smelled the sickening odor of wet burning fur, heard the squeals of agony as the army of rodents burst into flames and died with a whisper, a word of power.

He sagged, the spell sucking the life out of him but felt the support of the man dressed in the gaudy purple armor. He felt the man as he supported his weight, as Arcane had done for him just moments before. His name was Paladin if he recalled from the newspapers correctly; a mercenary, thug for hire, not that he cared. Arcane forced a smile.

“Thanks…”

“Thank you, pal!” the man said, brushing at the flaming remnants of rat that still clung to his armor. The spell of Conflagration had taken a huge bite out of Arcane’s mystical life force, but it had gotten the job done. All of the rats and mice and cockroaches within the sound of his voice had burst into flame and died a painful fiery death, no more than they deserved. Better, a few of the apparent undead still lumbering on the fringes of the battle were caught in the inferno as well.

“You okay?” Paladin asked, staring at him queerly. Arcane knew that he probably looked as though he had aged ten years after casting that spell. He was already feeling old and tired, not having rested sufficiently after the last few days. He hoped that he did not have much more to do, but glancing at the big man and the kid at the end of the block he figured that this was gonna be his last battle. He wished he had apologized, made peace with Alex. He didn’t want to die alone.

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing away and trying to stand on his own. Paladin held on for a moment but seemed to know when a man needed to stand on his own two feet and finally let loose. Arcane swayed but held his ground. He stared at the Lord of the Vampires, watching as the shadowy darkness whipped up and about, surging like a thing alive. It seemed that Dracula- if that was indeed who the big man was- was trying to steal the shadow from the boy in his grasp. Cloak? He did not look it, a skinny black kid all but dead. But that was Dagger dancing about behind them, and where she went could Cloak be far off?

“Let the boy go!” he shouted over the roar of the wind and rain. Paladin stepped to his side and shook his fist.

“Yeah!”

Dracula laughed.

“Of course…”

The Lord of the Undead released his hold on the frail, withered boy and he fell to the street in a heap, unmoving. But for the wisps of steam swirling from his lips, Arcane would have thought him dead.

“No! Tyrone!”

White light flashed about them as Dagger leapt to their side. She was breathing hard and bloody from her battles against the vampire legions and Arcane could sense that her power was all but depleted. Still her passion for the boy, her friend spurred her on and gave her strength. Strength that they all would need all too soon he thought.

“Bastard! What have you done to him?” she screamed, a holy light flaring about her fists. Dracula laughed again, uncaring.

“I have taken the boy’s darkness, child. His power is mine. Can’t you feel it? Taste it? I can taste you…” he ran his tongue over his long, sharp teeth, a cruel smile playing at his lips. Dagger screamed, shivering with rage and disgust.

She leaped into the air drawing both arms back then throwing her daggers of light at the Vampire Lord. Darkness swirled about Dracula as the Cloak of Shadows billowed, sucking in the light of Dagger’s assault. The vampire moaned in ecstasy as the glowing shards vanished within the roiling darkness, his unquenchable thirst suddenly sated-

“Yes…” he whispered and the storm seemed to explode about them. Lightning came crashing down lighting the street and electrifying everything for a brief instant. Thunder crashed and sent the last of the smoldering vermin scurrying for shelter. Those few remaining vampire wilted away, their bodies fading to mist dispersing on the whipping wind. Dracula folded the Cloak of Shadows about himself, shivering with pleasure.

“Never…” he rasped, his eyes locking with the girl’s, “never have I felt such fill. We are one you and I. Come, be my queen…” He raised his arm towards the girl, his hand dripping shadows.

“No!” Dagger shouted, leaping up and spinning about, firing her daggers off again at rapid succession. The Lord of the Undead sucked them in, letting each find its mark with relish, his strength building with every blaze of glory.

“Stop!” Arcane shouted, realizing what was happening, that the girl was only making him stronger. He reached out to grab her, but Dagger was too fast twisting out of his grip as his fist closed on empty air. Paladin tried as well with as little success. The night’s activities had taken its toll on both of them. They were tired and slow, and the girl was spurred on by rage, her inner fires burning white hot. She was not listening as she fed the Vampire’s lust. She would not stop until they were all dead.

Sirens were blaring in the distance, but even over that and the roar of the wind and thunder, the pounding rain they all heard the sound of a car’s engine gunning towards them. Paladin turned whipping his gun to fore out of instinct remembering too late that it was depleted, the energies not yet restored. Still he held his ground, his eyes widening behind the rain-spattered goggles that shielded his face as he stared just short of awe at the strange site that was speeding their way.

“What the fuck is that?” he whispered more to himself than to anyone in his group, but still he felt the black man at his side looking on as well…

It was a Hum-Vee, a modified military vehicle that had come on the open market a few years back. As an SUV it was virtually unstoppable, at least according to its press. Paladin had almost bought one once, but wondered when he would have the opportunity to enjoy the thing. This one, rumbling over the debris and smoldering bodies on the street was hardly show room material. It was a filthy white actually painted to look as though it had been to Hell and back again- An image made all the more clear by the skeletal mannequins decked out in army drab and littering the sheared off flat bed rear end. There were people hanging on for dear life in the back as well; three men by the looks though they were all decked out in long coats and holding floppy hats to their heads making it hard to be sure. There were three women in the cab, a maniacal black woman cranking the wheel while the other two held on as the truck started to skid to the side, slamming hard up and over the curb and snapping off a fire hydrant sending water gushing high into the air. There was a woman flying along side as well, a shadowy looking woman with a helluva lot of hair and a red and yellow costume that seemed vaguely familiar. There was also a bat, the biggest damn bat- well, almost- that he had ever seen.

Paladin swallowed hard, finally lowering his gun remembering how useless it was. He glanced at the old black man at his side, trying to force a smile.

“Uh,” he started trying to screw some confidence back into his voice, “I think the Cavalry’s arrived.” He heard the black man grunt.

“Yeah, but why do I get the feelin’ that we’re the Indians.”

The huge bat swooped past causing the two men to duck and even Dagger flipped out of the way in its close passing. The lithe, slim girl whipped up and about into the storm only to land gracefully at their backs, breathing hard.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her breath coming in ragged gasps as white fire danced at her fingertips. Paladin saw the rage in her face as she stared at these newcomers, ready to kill them all if she had to.

“I dunno kid, but take a breath ‘til we see, okay?”

Dagger stared at her erstwhile companion- staring daggers, Paladin fought back a smirk- but she stood down. At least for a moment. A moment’s calm in the storm, that was all that he needed.

A blonde man and woman went charging past, following the bat, but before he could turn to see what was happening someone was shouting his name.

“Paladin!”

He stared at the comely black woman, recognition finally sparking his memory especially when he took in the shorter woman with the sword racing along side. Misty Knight- who could forget a name like that- and Colleen… something. Wing! Nightwing Restorations from Times Square! Both women were dressed for action, Knight in her blacks and guns and Wing in her samurai outfit. They had worked with the Avengers before, and the X-Men he thought as well as Heroes for Hire! Paladin sighed.

They weren’t the Indians after all…

Frank Drake charged forward as soon as the car had slowed enough for him to bail out. And none too soon as the Hum-Vee slammed into the curb sideways, blowing stressed tires and shearing off the cap of a hydrant sending a geyser of water up into the rainy night. Drake had seen friends die and seen others ripped to shreds before his very eyes. He had traipsed through dimensions and been beaten to a bloody pulp but his stomach had never known the turmoil of riding in a car with Misty Knight. The woman was a maniac behind the wheel and she had driven the huge, lumbering car over and through more things in their wild ride downtown than Drake cared to remember. He as well as the Blazing Skull and the Living Mummy had clung to the back of the truck for dear life, though Drake figured that he was the only one really in jeopardy.

Still, rounding that final corner, lightning crackling all about in the wind and rain, bloody, decaying bodies smoldering the broken street, all the fear and anxiety was swept from his being. Drake saw him finally, his bane, that one vile thing that still gave his life purpose. Anger and the need for vengeance boiled up within him driving out the shock and pain of seeing his wife, Marlene again, and the terror of the short, wild ride.

There was Dracula…

Dracula in all his malevolent glory…

He barely took notice of the three he passed, a flash of purple, black and white, two men and a woman. By the carnage and debris, the smoldering bodies littering the street they must have been fighting the good fight for some time. They had lost though, because Dracula was still standing wrapped in a huge shadowy cloak, the withered pale form of a boy lying at his feet. They had failed whoever they were, but of course they had to. It was the dark destiny of Frank Drake to finally slay the Lord of the Vampires, his ancestor and bane. His devil!

Lilith was there now, already standing before her father as she morphed from her huge bat form back into that of a beautiful woman. In truth she was as bad as her father, potentially. She was a vampire as well, and the heir to his throne by the blood they shared. The only thing that made her the palest shadow better than her father was the fact that she hated the Vampire with as much passion as Drake. Given the opportunity Frank would have to slay her too, eventually, in time. For now she was an ally however- her and her band of Occult Investigators the Shock Troop! And at the moment she was in the way.

Drake ran full out, raising the sawed off shotgun he had taken from one of Blade’s storage caches. It was loaded with shells made of white thorn wood soaked in holy water, blessed. They would kill the Vampire Lord for sure, and the daughter if she did not step aside. Not slowing, not breaking stride as he charged closer with every step Drake took aim.

The daughter first then…

Then Dracula!

Drake gasped, crying out as something slammed into his ankles throwing him off balance. He screamed, cursing and flailing his arms as he sprawled, skidding on the gore-drenched asphalt in the street. He felt pain in his arm, sensed the bloody gash there as his gun fell from suddenly tingling fingers, clattering away and out of reach. He moaned, trying to rise as a boot heel slammed into the back of his neck forcing him down again-

“Not this time, Frank!” the voice snarled overhead. It was laced with anger and hatred, but even so he still recognized it. He craned his neck trying to see, the foot pushing his face into the blood and filth of the gutter-

“Marlene…”

His wife stood over him, her crossbow pointed at his face as she ground her boot into his neck to keep him down. She looked deadly, deathly beautiful there with the wind blowing her cloak about, her reddish-gold hair whipping around her scarred face. So much like Rachel. Frank shivered, long forgotten emotions stirring within him once again.

“You’re not going to play the hero this time Frank,” she snarled, her eyes darting about. He could hear the others running up now as well, the Daughters of the Dragon and the others. “Plenty of other lambs for the slaughter,” she hissed, her voice cold and lower so only he could hear, “this time you come home!”

Colleen was there first, skidding to a stop with her sword raised, ready to attack. The woman Marlene whipped her crossbow about, aiming for the smaller woman’s heart but Colleen Wing stood her ground.

“Off him, bitch!” she ordered indicating Drake still lying underfoot in the gutter. Marlene did not waver even as the others gathered about.

“Back off little girl or so help me I’ll plug you where you stand!” Marlene’s finger played at the trigger of her crossbow, her fiery gaze shifting only when she heard the cock of a gun’s hammer locking back.

“Let’s all take a deep breath, ladies,” Misty Knight said as calmly as she could manage, “now is definitely not the time.” Her magnum did not waver as she stretched her arm out aiming at Marlene’s scarred face. Marlene did not back down however, her own gaze flitting between the two women.

“Shoot me, your friend’s still dead…” she hissed as lightning flared. Thunder rolled along the street as Misty licked her suddenly dry lips. She recognized insanity when she saw it. Still, she held her aim…

Colleen gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, her palms wet with rain and sweat…

It was Paladin they thought that finally broke the tension, whistling some tune from an old Spaghetti Western. Marlene smirked, an icy cold smile as she turned her weapon aside and stepped off of her husband’s neck.

Frank Drake moaned as he quickly struggled to rise, scrambling forward on all fours to retrieve his own gun from the muck. He ignored the women, the small army of heroes gathered behind him, his eyes locked on his ancestor still. Dracula laughed.

“It warms my heart to see my family gathered before me once more.” He chuckled, a cold malicious guttural thing that sent a shiver through almost everyone. “It is almost ironic, given the circumstance.”

“You’re babbling, father,” Lilith said, unmoved by neither his tone nor his riddles. “I’ve come to slay you, once and for all, no matter what mad scheme you’ve devised.”

“Do it then, Daughter,” he smiled, tendrils of shadow writhing about him. “I welcome oblivion. Slay me… oh! Forgive me, I had forgotten. You cannot!”

Lilith stepped forward then abruptly stopped. Her hands curled into fists as she cursed. “You know that I cannot slay you outright. Anymore than you can take my life.”

“Yes…” he hissed. Not being a fool his eyes swept the gathered crowd behind his daughter however, watching especially the white clad girl, Dagger and the black man. She was a wild card, the one contingency that he could not plan for as she was so linked to his newly stolen power. The old Negroid was a mage and just as fickle in his scheme. He recognized the stench for what it was- depleted as it was. It was the same foul smell from the gutted tenement nights past.

“Our own private curse,” he continued, his gaze darting over the crowd as they inched ever closer- all the better. Fools! “How could I forget? I see though that as always you have made allowances and brought friends. Or should I say fodder?”

“Allies father,” Lilith smiled, gesturing at the others. “More than enough power to end your existence forever!”

“And yours as well if I recall correctly.” Dracula smiled as the power of the Dark Force swelled within him. He was bloated from the energies that the white-haired girl had fed him, and the shadows were screaming to be set loose. Who was he to deny their sweet song?

“Come then!” Dracula shouted into the storm as the Cloak of Shadows flowed past. Darkness boiled out of the folds of the flowing cape, writhing like a thing alive, a floodtide of dismal murk washing free of its shattered dam.

Lilith cursed, taking a step away, fear rising in her for the first time in ages. She tried to change, to morph into bat or mist as the darkness swirled about her. Her concentration gave way as the shadows clung, taking hold and dragging her down. The Dark Force engulfed her as she struggled, drawing her in despite her strength and her heritage. She was the Daughter of Dracula, but that apparently meant nothing. Fodder her father had said…

Lilith screamed!

Tandy Bowen screamed as the cold washed over her, driving her to her knees. The bond that she had shared with Tyrone- with Cloak- had changed, replaced by a foul, malignant cancer that was eating away at her very soul. She felt her own inner fires flare as the Dark Force pulled the tall, leather clad woman within its folds and the cancer spread.

“No…” she whispered, struggling to rise up again. “We have to stop this!”

“That’s what we’re here for, Darlin’.” Tandy looked up as Paladin helped her to her feet, supporting her as she tried to gather her strength once again. She was shivering, but from terror or the coldness she felt in her heart she did not know.

Dracula was almost lost to the obscuring darkness, just the glint of his misty eyes and teeth sparkling as lightning flashed overhead. The shadows writhed, and the woman Lilith was gone of course, but the tendrils of black still stretched out seeking more. She felt the energies of her power blazing in her fingertips as she pushed forward and away, staggering.

“Stop this…” she said, throwing her daggers of light at the dark. The white fire flared as it struck, then vanished just as quickly, swallowed. Dracula laughed-

“Feed me child! Again! Make me whole!”

“Stop…” Light flared from her fingers again as something came crashing down on the back of her head and a different sort of darkness quickly washed over her.

N’Kantu stared at the white clad girl at his feet. She had seemed so pure, he could almost taste the Holy Beyond emanating from her. She commanded the powers of the gods in her fingertips, and he sensed that fleeting spark that she was the one might set him free. She had the power to send him across the river and to final peace. But she was making matters worse now. She was feeding the Lord of Darkness. N’Kantu glanced at the Blazing Skull beside him, but as always his expression was unreadable. The man shrugged.

“Ya got me, pal. I just got here myself.”

N’Kantu, the Living Mummy watched as his ally, his friend Skully charged forward ripping a chunk of shining metal from the rear of a shattered char- car. He raced towards the Dark Lord unafraid, and after a moment N’Kantu followed…

Frank Drake leveled his sawed-off at the Lord of Vampires, watching as his ancestor faded in and out of sight within the swirling black mists of his stolen cloak. All that he needed was one good shot, a split second when his grand uncle was solid enough for Drake’s holy bullets to pierce his foul heart.

Drake shivered, wiping the rain and sweat from his face as the storm raged. He was freezing, the rain having thickened to sleet in the swiftly dropping temperature. The gale force winds whipped his long hair about his face and into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He could barely see the withered husk of the boy at Dracula’s feet. Marlene came skidding up just a yard or so away, a flickering shadow in the thickening light, beyond her the Daughters of the Dragon standing even more vague. Something swirled overhead, against the wind…

Shadowoman!

Drake knew nothing about the woman, whether she was a hero or villain, Mutant or mutate- not that it mattered. He could see that her powers were somehow connected with Dracula’s new powers though, both cloaked in some queer shadowy force. Dracula’s shadows seemed to churn upward as she neared, as though his ‘dark force’ was seeking out hers. She was shouting something, but Frank could not hear-

“You might have the Dark Force in you, pal” Jillian shouted into the gale, “but can you control it better than me?”

Shadowoman felt the storm tearing at her. It was hard to hold her position in the darkling winds they were so laced with shadow. Her own body was almost desolid, just wispy enough to allow her flight but still substantial so as not to get sucked into the black that was oozing from the Vampire Lord. He was strong, she could feel it. Stronger than she was even without his shadowy boost from Cloak’s stolen Dark Force. Lord, he had started the storm…

“I’ve been linked to the Dark Force for years, freak! Do your worst!” she bluffed, trying to hold her form together. The darkness was calling to her.

“My worst?” Dracula cooed, his smile widening, his eyes crackling red with power, lust. “Girl, my worst would rip your very soul from your body and leave you a lifeless husk groveling at my feet for more.” She could hear him even over the roar of the wind and rumbling thunder. Her concentration wavering she struggled to remain aloft, just to remain whole. Someone was shouting her name.

“Come then,” he continued, his slick words shunting the other voice aside, “savor the slightest lick of my dark kiss. Join me child…”

“Jillian!”

Jim Skully screamed as he charged forward, ignoring the shouts of the Daughters of the Dragon. The Shadowoman was wavering, her body shifting to its shadow form and trailing towards the black mire oozing about Dracula. He could see the reddish glow of his sparkling eyes as he summoned her, his cool voice drawing her out and sucking her in. He was taking her just like he took Lilith.

“Jillian!”

Skully leaped, the long jagged bumper of the Mercedes held high. He could hear gun shots as Misty Knight fired into the shadows. Wing was charging forward now too, finally attacking, realizing that the Vampire Lord was picking them off one by one. They had to attack in force or Dracula would win. Jim Skully, the Blazing Skull screamed and whipped the heavy metal bumper about, angling it like a spear and drove the sharp end through the dark cloud that was his foe. Dracula laughed.

Frank Drake watched as Dracula raised a hand to the heavens. Lightning came arching down out of the sky, striking the bumper still gripped by the Blazing Skull. The glowing skeleton of a man glowed even brighter as nature’s own electricity rippled up and down his body. He shook and quivered as steam rose into the already misty air. Drake could smell the sickly odor of burning flesh as glaring white light erupted about them all. The big man screamed. The girl screamed.

The Shadowoman’s body seemed to darken as it stretched. Her thick raven hair whipped wildly as the shadows engulfed her, her golden boots withering to black like a burnt match as she writhed. Dracula’s darkness was eating her, sucking her in as though through a straw and stretching her body to its limits. Drake saw her face wide with fright in the fading glow of the lightning, and then she was gone. Of course Dracula laughed…

But, why?

Why was he doing this? He had the power to strike them all down, obviously. He seemed stronger than he had been when he had held the Darkhold. He had already taken out Lilith and the Shadowoman, as well as the boy whom Drake assumed to be the hero known as Cloak. Dagger was down, and the Blazing Skull was out of it for the time being at least. Those few remaining; Drake himself and Marlene, the Daughters of the Dragon, Paladin and the black man- whoever he was- and that mummy were hardly powerful enough to face Dracula’s fury unleashed. What was he waiting for?

Dracula watched with amusement as his foes gathered before him. They were all but done, only the mage and the Egyptian worth a second glance. The wizard was spent however, his next spell would be his last if he spoke one that held enough power to do any real damage, and the walking corpse was slow and cumbersome. A threat granted, possibly, as his own unlife left him immune to Dracula’s own abilities for the most part. There was no mind really, nothing to invade or control, no blood to leech and his body would be impervious to physical pain- if it came to that. Too, there was no soul to steal, nothing for the Dark Force to grab hold of. He could burn though…

Dracula scanned the fringes of the battleground, ignoring his gathered enemies for the most part. The rats and mice still lingered in the shadows awaiting command. His undead legions swirled in the wind, fear rippling through them he could tell but none the less ready to give their all for him, their dread lord. The streets were littered with the carnage of the battle: corpses burning, melting in the driving sleet and rain, the very street itself in upheaval cracked and shattered with the force of his attacks. Water spewed from a broken fire hydrant washing the blood into pools about the clogged drains on every corner. People stared on, hiding in their apartments and peering through pulled shades and draperies too afraid to run, too curious to look away. Cockroaches crawled over all oblivious as to what went on about them, their numbers trebling with every passing second, and every heartbeat. They would inherit a world one day, when the last undead lifted his face to the rays of the rising sun years from now. The day when Dracula finally relinquished his destiny…

“Where are they?” he cursed, his cold voice a dark hiss that none would hear. His lieutenants should have been back by now, the stone in their greedy grasp. All of the players were here. There were none to stay their hand and Dracula himself had tracked the energies of the ancient stone of power to its lair. Dracula had drawn his enemies to him, stealing the Cloak of Darkness and dallying, distracting those that might intervene.

Oh, there were still a few. Strange for one. The once Sorcerer Supreme had an annoying habit of becoming involved. There were others too that might take note, but most were distracted with their own affairs. Hellstrom was fighting for his throne. The world’s Weirdlings were caught up in their own vainglorious affairs; Maximoff off with her human allies, Topaz, Kale and Clea lost to the mundane. Drumm, Katinka, even Blade were gone. There were none to-

“Enow!”

A shiver ripped through the body of the Lord of the Undead. He felt the heat as a warm gust of wind drove through his storm, shunting it easily aside and dispelling the worst that he had wrought. A final burst of lightning crackled, riddling the ground and scattering all that stood before him in a fiery display. Static danced as thunder shook the streets, a force that nearly bowled Dracula from his feet, even in the shadowy mist form that he now held. He glanced skyward, knowing already what he would see. The very gods had taken notice it seemed…

“Thor…”

He came dropping from the thick dark clouds like the Angel of Death. Lightning crackled overhead as he spun his great hammer with blinding speed to slow his descent. His huge muscles rippled, sweat and rain sluicing off his massive body, his visage dark and stern as he scanned the battlefield. He was not happy.

“Villain!” he shouted, his anger apparent. “Foul demon! Thou wouldst rip and slash at the very soul of Midgard unnoticed? Think thee thy actions might go unseen? Fool! Know that ye have gained the attention of the Scion of Asgard! Thou hast drawn the ire of the Son of Odin once more! Now thou dost face the Lord of Storms, the Mighty Thor!”

Dracula grinned, watching as shadows shifted off to the side and far away behind the God of Thunder. His Children had arrived, stone in hand- the Children of the Night! They scrambled forward, racing like the wind eager to do his bidding, hanging on his slightest whim. Dracula laughed, turning his attention skyward again as he relinquished the fury of his storm to the newcomer. He did not need it now. It was over. Almost done…

“Come then, godling,” Dracula mocked watching the rage as it washed over the Thunderer’s face, “show me thy might, thy unfettered rage and fury! Come show Dracula all you have learned since our last encounter.”

The Lord of the Undead thrust his arms skyward as Thor rocked in the winds. Heat and humidity rolled over the broken street as the Lord of Vampires caught the last of his storm and turned it away, drawing on the forces of the Thunder God and redoubling his efforts to quell the storm’s fury. There was a cracking sound as the sudden heat washed over the land. The asphalt buckled and heaved under new assault and Dracula laughed as his enemies fell under his onslaught. Even Thor was caught unawares, the sudden wave of heat bowling him over, his mighty hammer spiraling out of control for just a moment. And a moment was all that Dracula might need…

Frank Drake stared in awe and fascination as the Avenger came dropping down out of the leaden sky like wrath on the wing. This was the help that he had prayed for when he had approached the various heroes of the world. They had laughed at him then, or simply ignored him. Dracula was just a myth to most, a joke from storybooks, but now here was Thor fighting at his beck and call- sort of. The Thunder God would surely turn the tide, right? He had to…

Marlene gave Thor a casual glance as he fell to earth. Just another distraction to her. She raised her crossbow, aiming at Dracula’s heart, waiting. The vampire would have to become solid eventually and she would be ready. She had a bolt of white thorn wood poised and ready. Dracula was dead…

N’Kantu stared at the thing dropping out of the sky, some pagan god that had sprung up after his time. The others seemed stricken with awe, most of them at any rate. Dracula was watching the shadows though, watching the little men that were rushing forward. Who were they? How did they fit into this…

Colleen Wing glanced at Frank Drake, waiting for his signal to attack. He knew these creatures better than anyone. He knew what had to be done. This was what they had been working towards all these weeks. Dracula was going down, either by her sword or some other means. It all ended tonight…

Misty Knight slapped another cartridge into her Magnum though she knew that it was pointless. Speed-loader aside, her bullets were useless against Dracula. The very best that she could hope for was to cause a distraction, maybe get the vampire focused on her so that the others could do some damage. It was hell for sure, but she had faced worse. She hoped that Danny would avenge her…

Skully moaned as the lightning continued to dance over his body…

Paladin licked his lips and raised his weapon. He was way outclassed and his gun was still depleted. His little bit of enhanced strength and speed meant shit against this group. That was Thor for God’s sake, and ‘Yes, Virginia, there was a Dracula’! Paladin spat, his mouth suddenly dry. He had to piss like a freight train too, he realized. He held his stun gun steady, squinting into the sights as he took a bead on Dracula- for all the good it would do. He had one weak shot built up. He would make it count…

Eric Arcane smiled. That was Thor dropping out of the sky, Son of Odin and leader of the Avengers. Thor and a fountain of untapped energy crackling about him. The storm was waning, but now he had a chance. Sure it might cost his soul, but what the hell? You only live twice right?

That’s what Fleming said…

Next Issue: Here it comes! Dracula’s Master Plan revealed! The final fates of Cloak, Shadowoman and Jerome Jackson as Frank Drake gathers his group of Fearless Vampire Hunters to begin a final assault against his nefarious ancestor! Be here for-

Blood and Thunder!

And bring ‘a good supply of body bags’!