‘A HAUNTING WE WILL GO’
Featuring: Spider-Man by Cory Wiegal!!
Ah, Halloween...
The orange lights, the laughter, the candy, the kids in cute costumes... aaaaaand the sound of aluminum trash cans collapsing under my weight, the knock on my skull when it hits wet concrete, and the stench of what must be week old shawarma soaking into my red and blue webs.
“Ugh,” I groan as I try to sit up.
My head's spinning from the fall and everything in the dark alley is a bit fuzzy. Senses are dull and muscles ache. Adding insult to injury, the rain starts to pick up and a loud thunderclap causes my head to pound in agony. That is NOT the wake-up call I expected...
I try to shake off the discomfort and stand up, then I hear a wet flapping noise by my ear. It's the wind blowing against a soaked newspaper stuck to my mask. I peel it off and squint to read the headline.
“Hunt continues for string of missing people;
Police Commissioner recommends families stay inside for holiday.”
I toss the paper in the pile of trash at my feet and try to regain my bearings.
I seriously don't know what the heck just happened! I was on patrol, web slinging through Manhattan, when I hear a woman's blood curdling scream in this alley. As I'm changing course to investigate, my spider-sense just goes wild and everything goes black. I must have lost control of my web line and took a nose dive into the trash cans here.
But where's the woman who screamed? I look around and see nobody.
Wait, what's that? Several yards down the alley, I spot a dark puddle on the ground. I spring up from my place across the alley, landing on the building wall with hands and feet adhering on contact, and squint to make it out in the down pour. The rain and dirt are mixing with it, but it's definitely blood. It's smeared across the pavement and seems to trail up the building on the other side of the alley.
Christ, how long was I out? What the heck happened to whoever screamed?
I spring off the wall I'm sticking to and adhere to the adjacent building, but the speed I move at and my impact against the building causes my body to ache even more. One foot slips and I can barely hold on to the wall. The pounding in my head becomes more intense. It almost sounds like faint drumming... I must have really taken a real spill because I still can't shake off my fall, but I have to keep moving if there's any chance to save her.
Following the trail of blood, I scale the building as quickly as I can. With the way the rain's coming down, the blood could be washed away in no time, destroying my only lead and my only chance at saving this woman. The drumming in my head becomes louder the higher I climb, each beat causing my brain to pulsate and my body to ache more, but I push on.
When I reach the rooftop, I grab a hold of the ledge and pull myself upwards with as much strength as I can muster, springing off the wall in the process. I land in a crouch on the roof, but am taken aback by what I see in front of me. The lenses of my mask must be growing wide with my own expression.
A large, muscular man is crouched over a woman sprawled out on the roof top. His face is in his hands, a sickening slurping and crunching the only sound he makes. The drum beat grows louder in my head.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” I yell, trembling from the cold and rage overwhelming me.
Thunder rips through the sky again, lighting up the area in a quick flash. The slurping and crunching stops. He slowly raises his head up and glances over his shoulder at me, blood smeared over his dark facial hair, skin cracked and flesh rotting away from his cheek bones. His eyes are pale and lack pigment, but they're nonetheless striking and piercing in a familiar way.
No way! It can't be...
The drumming is deafening. My head is spinning. My body aching.
He turns around and stands from his crouch. He's wearing shredded orange and black animal print pants, gold and brown boots, a spike studded belt, and a brown vest with a ruffled lion's mane covering his back and shoulders. His face and hands are covered in that poor woman's blood as she lay next to him, flesh ripped from her like a predator's fallen prey, and he scowls at me as he licks his lips.
“Kraven?!” the name gasps from my throat. The drumming almost sends me to my knees.
He clenches his fists and throws his head back, letting out an animalistic roar.
“NO!” I scream and sprint across the rooftop towards Kraven. He follows suit.
The wind rages and the rain beats down on us as we collide halfway. Lost in pure adrenaline and fear, I dive into him but he rolls with my tackle and we tumble across the rain and blood drenched rooftop. I manage to move with the momentum of our roll and overpower him, slamming his back into the roof. He growls ferociously and kicks both feet into my chest before I can take control, sending me backwards, but I nimbly flip onto my hands and land on my feed. He springs from his back onto his feet just as fast, unfazed in the slightest.
I run and leap at him, spin kicking at his head, but he ducks and counters with an upper cut as I come back around. My spider sense must be drowned out by the drum beats pounding in my head because I took the hit to the chin and stumble back. I recklessly push forward and swing for his head, but he blocks it with powerful forearm and slams his free hand into my throat! I try to pry off him off my neck by his massive forearm, but his other hand strikes my neck and he cranes me around as I struggle against his strength.
His speed and power is unreal! I mean, I always knew Kraven resorted to supernatural potions and herbs to stay young, to stay vital, but he was never this strong. I always had to hold back. Now I'm fading fast! Drumming is pounding louder than ever in my head, overwhelming my senses, sapping my strength... I feel myself growing weak as he strangles the life out of me, then he opens his mouth and strains to lean into me, and a horrifying realization dawns upon me.
God, he reeks of death, soiled clothes, rotting flesh, and all! For the first time I see his gray, decomposing skin up close and his bloodied mouth bearing down on me. The bullet hole in his head is still gaping wide. Whoever Sergei Kravinoff once was, fighting for purpose in life and finding peace only in death, he's no longer in this rotting undead carcass. That means all bets are off!
Desperate, I take a chance and shove a hand into his face, triggering my web-shooter to blast a load into his face. The web smothers his face and I hear a muffled roar, even as he continues to strangle me. I summon all of my available strength and slam both hands on the side of his head, boxing his ears. Zombie Kraven here recoils in pain and I break from his grasp, head butting him in the process.
Sufficed to say, OW!
I drop to the ground into a kneel, gasping for air and grabbing my head as it continues to spin wildly. I look up, squinting through the pain, and see that monstrosity stumbling around, clawing at its own face wildly. He rips the glob of webbing from his face, tearing strips of flesh and chunks of bone with it. It's a disgusting sight to see, but only proves my suspicions. Kraven is dead and his body has been re-animated by something or someone, but how and why?
No time to think. Head's clearing up just as Kraven charges at me. I wait until the last possible second and leap frog into the air above him, planting both feet into his back as I drop down on him. He slams into the rooftop with a sickening crunch and I bound off of him. He shuffles up and roars with the thunder overhead, rain beating down on his decaying body, then makes a run at me again.
My senses are coming back to me The drum beat and pounding in my head is fading. It's with ease I spring towards him, dropping low to avoid his arms as he grabs for me, then thrust up with my legs to power an uppercut into his torso. I hear his ribs crack with that blow, and act quick to punch him in the head, then deliver a staggering kick to his knee. Kraven collapses before me and I ball up both of my hands together, raise them above my ready, and ready the killing blow to this zombie's skull.
I mean, that's how it works in all the B movies, right?
It's then my spider-sense explodes and I hear a familiar sound; a gunshot from the distance. I follow my instincts and back-flip out of the way of the shot, hearing a strange “ping” sound, then propel myself into the air. I scout the area as I fall backwards into a crouch on the rooftop's ledge.
My eyes fall on the spot where I was standing. A mangled dart?
I look up from there and I see the shooter, standing atop of the rooftop access to our right. It's a woman appearing in her late thirties, much like Kraven, with short black hair. She's wearing a dark body suit that has a white, puffy mane. She has a rifle trained on me and I notice several hunting knives strapped to her body, as well as a holster on her hip with a pistol in it. It seems she's a kindred spirit with the whole hunter/animal motif...
“Who the heck – ?” I grumble. “No, wait. Let me guess. Mrs. Kraven the Hunter?”
Spider-sense tingles and I cartwheel on the building's ledge out of the way of another dart.
“Lady Kraven?”
Again, spider-sense tingles and I duck my head to the left, narrowly avoiding another dart.
“Okay, okay. Kravena the Huntress?”
Spider-sense. Gunshot. Leap, flip, and dodge like clock-work. I land on the other side of the fallen Kraven in a ready stance.
“Fool! My name is Aleksandra Kravinoff and that is my husband!” she boasted proudly.
“Soo... Mrs. Kraven the Hunter it is then?” She pulls back the slide on her rifle and readies another dart. “Okay, seriously, lady, cool it!”
“He was always so cold to me after he met you,” she said in a thick Russian accent. “The hunt was his life, I was his life, until you, the Spider, came along.”
It all starts coming together. I was drugged
“Did you do this to him?” I ask.
Caught between us, Kraven starts to moan and wheeze as he rises to his feet in shambles from the beating I gave him. Decaying skin, bloodied hands and mouth, he slowly looks my way and begins to stumble towards me, one leg dead and dragging from a shattered knee.
Aleksandra grits her teeth and clenches a fist.
“YOU did this to him!” she says with venom in her voice. “Defeat after defeat, you drove him mad to the breaking point. He long forgot the hunt and his family, taking his life as he could think of no other purpose in life other than conquering you.”
Aleksandra drops her head and lowers her rifle, her bitterness and anger giving way to a frustrated shame.
“Yes, I have brought him back to life, a shell of what he once was. But you, you are connected to the web of life. Devouring you will bring him back to me, bring back the man he once was, and I will show him true purpose in his life once more!”
She looks back up to me and raises her rifle.
“STOP!” I shout. She hesitates and Kraven's corpse lunges at me with arms out. I grab him by the hair and twist him to face Aleksandra, showing her his mangled and rotted face. “Do you really think this is the man you loved?” I point to the corpse of the man he was devouring only moments ago as the rain continues to pour down on us. “Do you really think this is what he would have wanted in death?
“Lady, I knew Kraven in his final moments. I knew him better than anyone could possibly know, and he was a man tortured by much more than his failure to kill me or anyone else. He took his own life to end a cycle of pain and violence, and even in death I know for a fact he struggled to find peace!”
Kraven struggles against my grip, gasping and moaning, trying frantically to grab at me. I held his head firm, pointing it in Aleksandra's direction so she could see the mutilated remains of her husband.
She continued to look down on us, taken aback by my words and the image of Kraven after death staring back at her. I can tell she's at a loss for words. But one person wasn't...
“Ssssassh.... Sssasshhaaa...” Kraven growls under his breath.
Aleksandra lowers her rifle and stands up straight. In shock, tears begin welling in her eyes.
“Wha.... what did he say...?” she mutters, overwhelmed in grief. Was she Sasha?
Kraven starts to snarl and pull away from me towards his wife. I see his eyes narrowing sharply at her and he licks his lips, raising his arms out to her. The longer he looks at her the hungrier he gets.
Even I can't believe what I'm seeing! Before I could say anything, my spider-sense explodes. I hear Aleksandra draw her pistol and when I look up she shoots Kraven in the head, causing it to explode in my hands. I recoil as his blood and skull fragments splatter onto me. I drop his remains and look back up to Aleksandra, just in time to see her leap off of the rooftop access and over the building's ledge.
I spring away from Kraven's desecrated corpse and land on the building ledge in a flash, ready to do what I can to catch her or save her from certain death, but... Aleksandra is gone, lost in the rain and darkness. Like she was never there. I look around frantically, but I can't tell if there's anywhere else she could have gone but straight down.
Thunder ripples across the sky and I find myself at a loss for what just happened. I look over my shoulder, seeing the rooftop covered in the remains of two corpses, one of which was one of my greatest enemies and the other an innocent. I look back out to the city and sigh.
It's over, but as one question is answered another is asked... Who the heck is Aleksandra Kravinoff?
‘ORCHARD OF SKULLS’
Featuring: Pitchfork by John Cheese.
The black Ford Escort pulled up to the end of the track that ran through the orchard, the skeletal branches clinging hold to the last yellow leaves of autumn, skull like rotting apples sneering down at the car. Stepping out of the driver’s side of the Escort, a young man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt displaying a crosshair in a circle with the text ‘Crossfire was Right’ underneath the image, spat onto the dirt as he waited for his passenger to exit the vehicle.
“Babe, what are we doing here?” A blonde-haired woman dressed in cut-off jeans and a pink crop top asked as she swung out of the car, her high heels cored one of the rotting apples scattered on the floor.
“This is where my contact told me to drop the money.” The man stated as he pulled a silver brief-case out of the back seat of the car. “We do this and we owe the Maggia nothing, all my debts and yours are out the window.” He added as he took a few steps into the orchard, the faded yellow work lights strung along the branches doing little to illuminate the ground.
“I don’t like this.” The woman whimpered as she followed as close behind him as she could, the sound of footfalls radiating around the orchard, the only other sound the occasional crunch of apples underfoot. “Why here?”
“Because the Count has a creepy backwoods aesthetic obsession.” The man stated with a snort, his bravado covering up the growing feeling of unease he had. “Hell if I know, I just know that a powerful man asked me to deliver money here, so that’s what I do.” He spat as he stepped over a rusted ladder that had been laid across the path.
“Then let’s leave it here and go.” The woman gulped as she tripped over the ladder, the heels of her shoes snapping, forcing her to kick them off.
“We’ve been asked to leave it there.” The man stated as he pointed to the scarecrow strung up on a cross in the middle of the orchard. Walking up to the scarecrow, the man looked the effigy up and down taking in the burlap face with two large ‘X’s painted on it and a stitched mouth, a torso with ragged clothes and two robust legs but no hands on the end of its arms. “I’m leaving this here ugly.” He snorted as he turned to his girlfriend and smiled before reaching for his phone to take a selfie. As he did, he involuntary gasped, the same moment his girlfriend screamed and sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen.
“Jenny.” He wheezed as he dropped to the floor next to the scarecrow, his girlfriend backing away as the effigy tore itself off the cross, a pitchfork covered in blood in its left hand. Lurching away, the scarecrow chased Jenny as she ran for the car, her panicked screams echoing around the trees and merging with the wheezing ragged berths of her pursuer. Running faster than she ever knew possible, Jenny reached the ladder and tripped head first into the mud. Adrenaline coursing, panic gripping her Jenny didn’t stand up but crawled on all fours, her vision blurred by the mud across her face.
“Who, what are you?” Jenny gulped as the scarecrow towered over her, his pitchfork blade slamming down in-front of her, the rusty metal slashing through the top of her scalp. With a scream, Jenny kicked out at the scarecrow, the blow striking the thick legs of the effigy in a last-ditch effort to escape from her fate.
“They call me Pitchfork.” The scarecrow whispered causing Jenny to suddenly realise that her attacker wasn’t a mere scarecrow but instead was a man in costume. Screaming in fear and a little fury, a second pitchfork slid out of the other arm and stabbed through her back. As her vision began to fade, she felt her body move involuntarily as Pitchfork dragged her back towards where he had been waiting for them.
Stabbing the body of his first victim with his free fork hand, Pitchfork dragged both corpses to a small shed that sat just off the edge of the grove he’d been waiting in. Retracting the pitchfork stabbed into the male victim, Pitchfork extended a normal hand out of his sleeve and unlocked the door. Kicking the body through the now open door and down the stairs, Pitchfork crept inside dragging Jenny’s body behind him, and after a little struggling deposited her body on a pentagram etched into the wooden floor. Heading back up the stairs to close the door, Pitchfork stopped as heard something quiet sound behind him.
“We need the offering.” A quiet, almost whispering voice hissed, causing Pitchfork to shudder. Turning back down the stairs, Pitchfork rolled the male victim onto the pentagram and kneeled down his head bowed as if in prayer.
“I bring you the offering, two souls as contracted.” Pitchfork replied as he tried to avoid looking at the two dead bodies in front of him.
“This will suffice.” The whispering unseen force stated as Pitchfork heard the door at the top of the steps creak. Turning around, he saw a man with scraggily brown hair dressed in jeans and plaid shirt standing at the top of the stairs.
“Now what have I told you about keeping that door locked brother.” The man at the top of the stairs scolded the murderous supervillain. “And about cleaning up the crap these city dwellers leave in our orchard.” He added as he closed the door and walked down, placing the case next to a workbench loaded with rusty hand-tools.
“I’m sorry Thomas.” Pitchfork whimpered as his brother bent down next to him and closed the eyes of the woman. “The demon says it’s enough, that it’ll keep our farm safe for another year.”
“Good.” Thomas answered as he got up and walked over to the workbench crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene before him. “You’ve done well, now back to the house and I’ll finish up here.” He ordered as he saw Pitchfork turn his head to look at something unseen. Shuddering slightly, he walked up the stairs and left the hut, his brother following him closing the doors behind him and sliding a deadbolt across the lock. Heading back down the stairs, Thomas bent down and removed a loose board and the miniature speaker underneath it. Pressing the button at the top of the speaker, Thomas heard the demonic whisper he had recorded years earlier.
Placing the speaker on the workbench, Thomas picked up the case and placed it next to the tool, before drawing his phone. Scrolling through his messages, Thomas found the code he had been sent by his Maggia contact and entered it into the dials on the case, the lid sliding open to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Counting the stacks, Thomas smiled as he looked at the money he had been given to terminate one of Count Nefaria’s debtors who had fallen behind with his payments.
Picking up his phone he dialled a number and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. “Hello cousin, yeah I have another one.” Thomas announced as he removed two stacks of the hundred-dollar bills. “Yeah left on my drive, black Ford Escort, tonight, well that’s fine.” He continued as he placed the two stacks of money in a bag. “You do it tonight and I’ll give you your cut at dinner tomorrow.” He finished. “Okay see you then cousin.” He finished as he terminated the call before taking a photograph of the bodies, texting the image to his Maggia contact.
“Well time to clean this up.” Thomas sighed as he pulled a cart out of the corner of the room before stripping the bodies and then loading both of them onto the bed of the trolly. Opening a door at the back of the room, Thomas pushed the cart into a tunnel and through into a clean concrete walled chamber filled with vats. Removing a vat lid, the tangy smell of apple acid wafted through the room Thomas picked up Jenny’s body and pushed it into the vat, the corpse drowning in sour yellow liquid. Moving to a second vat, Thomas picked up the second body and deposited it into the vat. Sighing, Thomas walked across the room to a bottling line, the bottles labelled with the text, ‘Skull Apple Cider’ complete with the image of a skull carved into an apple.
“Ma and Pa were idiots to grow these sour apples on this barren package of land.” Thomas snorted as he took a bottle of cider and took a big swig, his face screwing up by the sour taste of the alcohol. “Even with the loans from the Maggia this place fell apart, luckily I had the good sense to diversify what my orchard produces.” He croaked as his phone pinged, the confirmation text of a contract completed by the Maggia arrived in his inbox. “Luckily my brother’s an idiot, he’d do anything to keep Ma and Pa’s dream alive.” He added as he heard something clang to the floor from across the room.
“Who’s there?” Thomas asked as he broke the bottle he had been drinking against the bench. “Come out! Show yourself!” He ordered as he saw a pink haired woman dressed in a green catsuit and cape, a burning hand print on her right cheek walk out from behind the acid vat he’d deposited Jenny into. “Who are you?!”
“I’m the person you’re stealing business from Thomas Mulligan.” The woman stated calmly as she walked towards Thomas, an evil looking smile on her face.
“I’m not stealing from anyone.” Thomas snarled as he met the woman half way across the room, the bottle held out ready to strike the pink haired woman.
“Aren’t you?” The pink haired woman answered, not bothering to look at the bottle pointed towards her throat. “Your little ruse with your brother, did you think that nobody was listening to how you were calling out to the underworld, to the dark forces of the world.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” Thomas snarled as he got ready to thrust the bottle into the pink haired woman. “Get off my property now!” He added as he thrust the bottle into the woman’s neck, the glass melting as it came into contact with her flesh and blood.
“I’m not the one you should be afraid of.” The pink haired woman replied as a drumming sound echoed from the vats. “It should be your victims,” She added as the door to the depot opened up behind her, a tall figure with a burning pitchfork stood silhouetted against the emergency lighting standing there. “All your victims.” She finished as the vat lids shuddered as if they were being pushed from the inside.
“Rodney?” Thomas asked as the figure walked towards him, the burlap mask of Pitchfork fused to his face, cinders arching off the weapon as staggered towards him.
“You asked me to kill for Ma and Pa’s dream, their souls.” Pitchfork cried as he towered over his brother, cinders dripping down the mask onto the floor. “I told you I didn’t want to kill, but then the whispers began, whispers you said you couldn’t hear.”
“I couldn’t.” Thomas gulped as he backed up, painfully aware that the pink haired woman was no longer standing behind him. “I kept Ma and Pa’s dream alive, you would be on the streets if it weren’t for me.”
“I couldn’t stop hearing the voices, he whispered to me as I slept, as I worked the trees and the presses.” Rodney continued as the lid of one of the vats was thrown off and a skeletal hand with only a few slithers of flesh on its bones emerged. “He told me the truth, you lied to me!” He continued as the other vats opened, a corpse crawling out of each container, malic acid dripping onto the floor, the stench of rot and cider mixing in the air.
“I promise I’ll change; we’ll save the farm together you and me, brothers and best buds.” Thomas gasped as he looked around at the horde of apple acid dripped corpses srrounding him and his brother. “You and me together, standing against the world.” He gulped as he looked around for anything that he could use as a weapon.
“I ain’t Rodney anymore, I’m Pitchfork.” Rodney replied as he knocked Thomas to the floor with the stave of his pitchfork. “He whispered into my ear, promised to save Ma and Pa’s dream and their souls in return for doing what he wants.”
“Ma and Pa were idiots for setting up here!” Thomas growled as he started to get to his feet only for a burning pitchfork to slam down into his chest, the impact and the flames causing unimaginable pain to spread across his body.
“By using their names in your lies you dammed them to hell!” Pitchfork cried as Thomas’s blood flowed out of his wound, the liquid glowing yellow as it pooled onto the floor. Screaming in pain, Thomas saw his brother step back as the acid dripped horde descended on him, each touch melting his flesh into the same liquid that his blood had transmuted into.
“Rodney, please!” Thomas called as Pitchfork placed his weapon into the pool of his blood, igniting the chemical the scream continuing as his body burnt.
“Rodney is gone, only Pitchfork remains.” Pitchfork hissed as he dipped the haft of his pitchfork into his liquified brother, the pink haired woman smirking as she looked on at Thomas’s demise. “Now free of you, I can serve the master.”
“The master will be happy with your rebirth.” The pink haired woman stated as she placed her arm around Pitchfork’s shoulders. “Between us I’ll weave their dreams and you’ll stoke their nightmares. The night is no longer safe for man, they belong to those who dwell in darkness.”
‘THE BUTTERFLY PROPHECIES’
Featuring: The Man in the Mystery Mask by John Cheese.
Point Pleasant, West Virginia.
In the half darkness, the figure wearing a thick brown trenchcoat looked out over the Ohio River at the collapsed bridge, the wreckage from the vehicles that had been crossing it bobbing in the river. Flicking open his lighter, the figure pulled the arm of his trench coat up to reveal a tattoo of a black serpent chewing its tail and touched the marking with one of his fingers.
“Apelati in timp.” The man called, his tattoo glowing green as the area around him glowed the same colour, before coalescing into four skeletons flesh rapidly filling onto the bones to form living people. Turning to face the summoned figures, the man dressed in a trench coat looked at them his face covered in a green mask that matched the armour he wore. “I didn’t think that this thing would work.” He mused as his tattoo faded back to its ink black colour, “But it’s good to know that the Ouroboros Mark can connect us through time as well as space.”
“The Secret Defenders will always endeavour to answer those who need it.” A black-haired man with a deeply scarred face, dressed in a blue jumpsuit stated. “Particularly when one of our own calls us, but to where and more importantly when?”
“We’re just outside of Point Pleasant in West Virginia.” The Masked Man announced as he looked over the group of people he had summoned. “The date is the 19th December, 1967.”
“Then we are in the deep future?” The largest of the group, a native American man dressed in buckhide, a massive double handed tomahawk slung over his shoulder stated.
“More like the deep past.” A woman with pale skin and cropped black hair replied as she smoothed the indigo skirt and crop top she wore. “But why does this seem familiar?”
“Because this is the aftermath of the Silver Bridge Collapse tragedy.” The oldest member of the group, a silver-haired woman dressed in jeans and a grey blouse stated as she gestured to the remains of the bridge, the movement revealing the holstered pistol beneath her shoulder. “But this isn’t about the bridge, this is about the creature.”
“There calling him the Mothman, and if he were a normal man, or one of these mutants that have started appearing then I wouldn’t have called you here.” The masked man stated as he led the group to a waiting flatbed truck. “Truth is, he’s some kind of demon, maybe a member of the undead.”
“Why do you think that?” The older woman asked as the man opened the door of the truck for his summoned guests.
“Because I’ve killed him at least three times, left nothing but dust behind but he’s come back every time.” The Masked Man stated as the two women got into the back seat, while the Native American man got into the bed of the truck, his large size prohibiting him from entering the vehicle.
“Doesn’t mean its undead.” The man in the jumpsuit replied as he slipped into the front passenger seat. “Several people from my time have come back from the dead without being ghouls or vampires.” He added as their host got in the driver’s seat. “But you should know that Coronel Fury.”
“Very astute of you, just shame I’m not him.” The man in the mask replied as he turned the engine over and turned the headlights on.
“Then perhaps introductions are needed.” The younger woman suggested as she looked out at the dark star-studded sky. “My code name is War-Yore back in my time.”
“They call me War Wolf.” The man in the front seat stated as he took a deep breath before pointing to the man in the bed of the truck. “I’ve worked with the big guy before; he calls himself Towering Oak.”
“And I am Nina Valentine.” The older woman replied as the man driving the car veered off onto a paved road heading out of town. “Which just leaves the man who summoned us. If you are not Coronel Nick Fury then who are you?”
“My name is erased from history.” The driver replied. “The intelligence community just calls me the Man in the Mystery Mask.” He stopped and chuckled as they drove past a sign that read ‘McClintic Wildlife Management Area’, the words ‘TNT’ painted over that with a long scratch mark across the lettering. “At least the ones who believe I exist.” He added as Towering Oak tapped on the side of the truck, causing all the people inside to look to where he was crouched. Behind him in the dark, a black shape was following the vehicle, its red eyes glowing in the gloom. Pulling the truck to a stop, the Man in the Mystery Mask kicked open the door, his hand reaching for a pistol hidden under the steering wheel. “And there’s the devil himself.” He snarled, as three more doors opened up.
Screaming an inhuman screech, the Mothman swooped down on the truck and Towering Oak, the giant of a man swinging his tomahawk at the cryptid, forcing the attacker back. Exiting the car, the other Secret Defenders looked up at the humanoid creature, its body barely illuminated by the red eyes glowering down at them.
“Shocked to see me again?” The Man in the Mystery Mask asked the Mothman as he fired a few shots up at the creature, Nina and Warwolf following suit, their rounds ripping through the darkness as their target dropped to the ground and lunged towards the truck. Stepping forward, War Yore flicked her wrist, a thick slippery mess of tendrils springing from a small disc on her skin restraining the creature, causing it to fall to the floor. Walking over to the creature, the Man in the Mystery Mask put his pistol to the creature’s head, ready to make the execution shot.
“Wait, before you kill it, let me examine it.” Nina stated as she holstered her pistol and placed her hand on the Mothman’s head, a barbed proboscis jabbing out of its mouth as it tried to stab here hand. “Strange, this creature was born a human, but then…” She stopped as the Mothman began to flex, straining to break the bindings.
“Nina, you may want to step back.” Warwolf barked as Nina removed her hand and took a step back just as Mothman snapped its bindings and took to the air. With a scream of anger, it divebombed the older woman, only for Towering Oak to leap off the bed of the truck and tackle the Mothman out of the sky, the pair engaged in a wrestling match as each combatant tried to overpower the other. Stepping in Warwolf grabbed the Mothman’s wings and pulled the monster back, scales scattering from the wings of the creature onto his hands and the ground around him.
“You may have escaped Spiderman’s webbing.” War Yore stated as she flicked her wrist again. “But let’s see you escape a coating of Baron Zemo’s Adhesive X.” She stated, a thick yellow paste springing out of the same disc, gluing the Mothman to the ground, allowing Towering Oak to leaver Mothman off him, before delivering a powerful strike with his tomahawk, separating the creatures head from its shoulders, it’s body exploding into dust.
“Let’s hope that’s enough to keep it down.” Warwolf snarled as he looked at the developing rash on his hands.
“It should be, the creature is mortal.” Nina stated as she went over and held Warwolf’s hands, golden light washing over the rash and healing the skin. “This creature has memories from before its transformation. She was on the bridge when it collapsed, she went into the river and was pulled out by the original Mothman.”
“Wait, this creature was the one seen on the Silver Bridge?” The Man in the Mystery Mask asked as he looked at the body of the Mothman.
“I think you’re looking at the wrong thing.” War Yore stated as she rubbed her wrist and looked down at the body before cocking her head. “This thing was a human woman four days ago.” She stated before turning to Nina. “Was this woman transformed by sorcery?” She continued as Warwolf took a deep sniff before looking out into the dark woods surrounding the truck.
“There’s nothing magical about it.” Nina replied, as Warwolf replaced the ammunition clip in his pistol and holstered it. “It’s a natural creature, or as natural as such things are.”
“No, it’s not natural, I think I’ve seen this thing in my time.” War Yore gulped as she looked over to the Man in the Mystery Mask. “How many people have gone missing since the first sighting of this Mothman?”
“There’s been a lot.” He replied as Warwolf cracked his knuckles. “Why?”
“Because there’s more than one of these things.” Warwolf growled, as he turned to Towering Oak. “Lots more. These Mothmen have a lair somewhere, one where they are taking people to change them into more of their kind. If we leave this any longer then these things will be reaching plague proportions. They’ll overrun Point Pleasant certainly, maybe all of Appalachia, possibly even further if they are transitory.”
“They are, or it is in my time.” War Yore stated as she rotated her palm upwards, projecting a holographic-figures, one square and boxy and one akin to the Mothman that had attacked them, from it. “The old shield archives list an old criminal named Imago Vitroli, he was transformed by the Hydra scientist Arnim Zola.”
“I’ve seen some of Zola’s work.” The Man in the Mystery Mask stated as he looked at the boxy figure with narrowed eyes. “They usually aren’t as well developed as these Mothmen.”
“Not Mothmen, the creature is listed in archives as ‘the Butterfly’, at least during the 1990s.” Warwolf huffed as he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. “We’re wasting time, I can smell three more of these things somewhere nearby in the woods. I can track them, but we need to get moving now.” He added as his body convulsed, forcing him down onto all fours as he huffed and snarled. Moving to help him, War Yore was prevented from getting close to him by Towering Oak.
“The wolf is emerging; he is safe as man or beast but not when caught in between.” Towering Oak stated as Warwolf transformed into a humanoid grey skinned werewolf. Stretching and getting back to his feet, Warwolf took a deep sniff before snarling as he looked up at the trio of red eyes looking at them from the treeline. As they realised, they had been spotted, the owners of the eyes retreated into the darkness.
“Time for the hunt!” Warwolf snarled as he sprinted into the darkness, his teammates looking at each other before Towering Oak lead them after the tracker. Despite the sound of skittering creatures above them, the Secret Defenders weren’t attacked as they made their way to a series of concrete bunkers deep in the woods. Pacing around the buildings, Warwolf came to a stop outside one and snarled as he looked inside the bunker, a red glow illuminating the inside of the concrete structure.
“That’s a lot of Mothmen or Butterflies or whatever these things are.” Nina stated as she unholstered one of her pistols and lit up her hand with a glowing blue arcane energy. Rubbing her wrists, War Yore summoned up a wrist mounted flamethrower as the five Secret Defenders entered the bunkers, the walls covered in a slick orange resin, multiple Butterflies crawling on the walls and ceiling, next to several humans entombed in the stick amber. With a scream, the creatures dropped on the Secret Defenders, gunfire and energy blasts meeting the creatures, even felling some of them as they attacked.
Swinging his tomahawk, Towering Oak slashed through multiple Butterflies, his axe eventually stuck in the skull of one of his adversaries. Switching to his fists, he saw his allies and for a moment thought they were holding their own, it was then when he felt something sharp stab through his chest and looked down to see one of the Butterflies looming over him. Falling to the floor he saw two more creatures leap onto Warwolf, their proboscis stabbing into his back and shoulders before being bucked off. Above them, the bodies of the entombed humans twitched, and their stomachs ruptured and newly hatched Butterflies, reswelling the defenders ranks, as they climbed down, colour blushing into their wings, green liquid dripping from their proboscises.
“Why do you come to my nest?” A voice hissed from above as the largest Butterfly with black wings and a pale-yellow death’s head skull on its thorax hissed. “Why do you kill my family?” He hissed as War Yore’s flamethrower ran out of fuel, forcing her to retract the weapon and summon a long glowing whip from her other hand.
“You are abducting and killing people!” The Man in the Mystery Mask yelled up as the Butterflies around them began to encircle them, ready for a final onslaught.
“They are food, they are children.” The Butterfly stated, as War Wolf took a sniff, as if catching the scent of something else in the bunkers. “We spread, we become masters. They lose their humanity like I did, become imagos ready to serve.”
“Not on my watch.” The Man in the Mystery Mask replied as the other Butterflies continued their onslaught, beginning to overwhelm the Secret Defenders. Groaning, Nina summoned up an electrical dome across her allies causing the attacking Butterflies to be pushed back.
“This isn’t going well.” Warwolf snarled as Towering Oak got to his feet, blood and green fluid dripping from his mouth.
“What if we can destroy everything.” War Yore moaned as she summoned up a missile on her back. “This is a Generation One Terminax missile, it will destroy everything in this bunker but I can’t launch it, the Achieve doesn’t allow it.”
“Meaning you have to be inside to activate it.” The Man in the Mystery Mask sighed as Towering Oak rubbed his head before taking the missile in his hands.
“Then I will detonate it.” Towering Oak stated as he looked at the missile and placed it on the ground. “I can feel something sweet on my tongue, feel something sticky and foreign on my skin, one of these creatures resides in me. I am lost but I can stop these Butterflies. Go, I will stem this swarm.” He added as the Butterflies began to hammer on the dome of energy, the lightning beginning to spark under the onslaught, proboscis squeezing in trying to jab at those sheltering inside.
“I’ll see you on the other side friend.” War Wolf stated as he touched Towering Oak with his clawed hand before looking to the door, spotting the huddled mass of dark figures standing outside, red eyes glowering at them. “Here we go, Secret Defenders charge!” He roared as Nina expanded the lightning dome, momentarily pinning the Butterflies to the resin for a moment, just long enough for the Secret Defenders to escape. Seconds later the Terminax missile detonated, scourging the inside of the bunkers with cleansing fire, the Butterflies caught inside screaming, the shockwave knocking the escaping Secret Defenders to the ground.
In an instant the Butterflies outside leapt onto the Secret Defenders, the prone humans beating their attackers away just in time. From the burnt concrete bunkers, the dark winged Butterfly emerged, screaming, its proboscis dripping with green liquid.
“You burn my home!” The Butterfy boomed as it pushed two of its subordinates off the Man with the Mystery Mask and pulled him off the ground, a very human rage evident on its inhuman face. “You burn my children!” He screamed as Warwolf bucked his attackers off and slashed open one of the Butterflies on top of War Yore. Groaning, she got to her feet and summoned up a shield shaped like an eagle on one arm and a gauntlet on the other.
“Okay I’m done with these Butterflies yelled!” War Yore groaned as the Butterflies on Nina vapourised in a shower of pink sparks. “It was never this hard to fight or this smart in my time.” She added, as one of the Butterflies lunged at War Wolf and stabbed its proboscis through his skull, the bladed appendage jutting from his mouth. Screaming in anger and horror, War Yore opened fire with her gauntlet, sound waves rupturing the Butterfly that had killed Warwolf.
“You will be my new child.” The Butterfly hissed as it jabbed its proboscis into the Man in the Mystery Mask, his body convulsing as he threw it aside. “You too female.” It hissed as it advanced on War Yore from behind as Nina emptied her clip into two Butterflies, their bodies exploding into dust. Turning round just in time, War Yore rose her shield to block the proboscis, only for her attack to snatch it away, the force breaking his victim’s hands.
“Sorry I’ve already had two families, and both of them were better than yours.” War Yore replied as the Butterfly jabbed its proboscis into her chest. “No more children for you.” She sneered as her skin began to steam and glowed green before detonating in a shower of gamma radiation, vaporizing her body. Its body burnt by nuclear fire, the Butterfly advanced on the last Secret Defender standing, staggering as it took step after step, green liquid dripping from its wounds. Before reaching Nina, it collapsed at her feet, dust and shed scales scattering across the ground. Taking a deep breath, Nina fired a shot, executing the creature before turning to the Man in the Mystery Mask as he sat up clutching his chest wound.
“Don’t let this thing be born, end these monsters like the others did.” He groaned as his hands spasmed, a spreading scaly rash forming around the wound.
“I’m sorry.” Nina replied as she summoned five mystical hands that picked up the Man in the Mystery Mask and dragged his thrashing form into the burnt out concrete bunker, his screams echoing around the structure as he ran for the door only to see Nina dropping to a cross-legged position on the ground next to the dead dark-winged Butterfly. Chanting in a language he didn’t recognise stones ripped from the forest floor and flew towards him, bricking him inside the concrete bunker.
“Why, why are you keeping me alive!” The Man in the Mystery Mask yelled as he saw the body of the dead Butterfly shift slightly.
“You know why. We uphold the natural order of time, these Butterflies persist but not in numbers. Both Warwolf and War Yore confirmed that.” Nina replied as the stone filled the door, locking the Man in the Mystery Mask in the concrete bunker. Not even raising from her seated position, Nina felt cold hands reach on either side of her head and twist, her vision fading to black as behind her the Butterfly collapsed onto her, his body exploding into dust and scales as it fell. As the sounds of battle were replaced by the sounds of nature, they were joined for many nights by the harrowing scream of a man trapped inside his tomb.
Featuring: Spider-Man by Cory Wiegal!!
Ah, Halloween...
The orange lights, the laughter, the candy, the kids in cute costumes... aaaaaand the sound of aluminum trash cans collapsing under my weight, the knock on my skull when it hits wet concrete, and the stench of what must be week old shawarma soaking into my red and blue webs.
“Ugh,” I groan as I try to sit up.
My head's spinning from the fall and everything in the dark alley is a bit fuzzy. Senses are dull and muscles ache. Adding insult to injury, the rain starts to pick up and a loud thunderclap causes my head to pound in agony. That is NOT the wake-up call I expected...
I try to shake off the discomfort and stand up, then I hear a wet flapping noise by my ear. It's the wind blowing against a soaked newspaper stuck to my mask. I peel it off and squint to read the headline.
“Hunt continues for string of missing people;
Police Commissioner recommends families stay inside for holiday.”
I toss the paper in the pile of trash at my feet and try to regain my bearings.
I seriously don't know what the heck just happened! I was on patrol, web slinging through Manhattan, when I hear a woman's blood curdling scream in this alley. As I'm changing course to investigate, my spider-sense just goes wild and everything goes black. I must have lost control of my web line and took a nose dive into the trash cans here.
But where's the woman who screamed? I look around and see nobody.
Wait, what's that? Several yards down the alley, I spot a dark puddle on the ground. I spring up from my place across the alley, landing on the building wall with hands and feet adhering on contact, and squint to make it out in the down pour. The rain and dirt are mixing with it, but it's definitely blood. It's smeared across the pavement and seems to trail up the building on the other side of the alley.
Christ, how long was I out? What the heck happened to whoever screamed?
I spring off the wall I'm sticking to and adhere to the adjacent building, but the speed I move at and my impact against the building causes my body to ache even more. One foot slips and I can barely hold on to the wall. The pounding in my head becomes more intense. It almost sounds like faint drumming... I must have really taken a real spill because I still can't shake off my fall, but I have to keep moving if there's any chance to save her.
Following the trail of blood, I scale the building as quickly as I can. With the way the rain's coming down, the blood could be washed away in no time, destroying my only lead and my only chance at saving this woman. The drumming in my head becomes louder the higher I climb, each beat causing my brain to pulsate and my body to ache more, but I push on.
When I reach the rooftop, I grab a hold of the ledge and pull myself upwards with as much strength as I can muster, springing off the wall in the process. I land in a crouch on the roof, but am taken aback by what I see in front of me. The lenses of my mask must be growing wide with my own expression.
A large, muscular man is crouched over a woman sprawled out on the roof top. His face is in his hands, a sickening slurping and crunching the only sound he makes. The drum beat grows louder in my head.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” I yell, trembling from the cold and rage overwhelming me.
Thunder rips through the sky again, lighting up the area in a quick flash. The slurping and crunching stops. He slowly raises his head up and glances over his shoulder at me, blood smeared over his dark facial hair, skin cracked and flesh rotting away from his cheek bones. His eyes are pale and lack pigment, but they're nonetheless striking and piercing in a familiar way.
No way! It can't be...
The drumming is deafening. My head is spinning. My body aching.
He turns around and stands from his crouch. He's wearing shredded orange and black animal print pants, gold and brown boots, a spike studded belt, and a brown vest with a ruffled lion's mane covering his back and shoulders. His face and hands are covered in that poor woman's blood as she lay next to him, flesh ripped from her like a predator's fallen prey, and he scowls at me as he licks his lips.
“Kraven?!” the name gasps from my throat. The drumming almost sends me to my knees.
He clenches his fists and throws his head back, letting out an animalistic roar.
“NO!” I scream and sprint across the rooftop towards Kraven. He follows suit.
The wind rages and the rain beats down on us as we collide halfway. Lost in pure adrenaline and fear, I dive into him but he rolls with my tackle and we tumble across the rain and blood drenched rooftop. I manage to move with the momentum of our roll and overpower him, slamming his back into the roof. He growls ferociously and kicks both feet into my chest before I can take control, sending me backwards, but I nimbly flip onto my hands and land on my feed. He springs from his back onto his feet just as fast, unfazed in the slightest.
I run and leap at him, spin kicking at his head, but he ducks and counters with an upper cut as I come back around. My spider sense must be drowned out by the drum beats pounding in my head because I took the hit to the chin and stumble back. I recklessly push forward and swing for his head, but he blocks it with powerful forearm and slams his free hand into my throat! I try to pry off him off my neck by his massive forearm, but his other hand strikes my neck and he cranes me around as I struggle against his strength.
His speed and power is unreal! I mean, I always knew Kraven resorted to supernatural potions and herbs to stay young, to stay vital, but he was never this strong. I always had to hold back. Now I'm fading fast! Drumming is pounding louder than ever in my head, overwhelming my senses, sapping my strength... I feel myself growing weak as he strangles the life out of me, then he opens his mouth and strains to lean into me, and a horrifying realization dawns upon me.
God, he reeks of death, soiled clothes, rotting flesh, and all! For the first time I see his gray, decomposing skin up close and his bloodied mouth bearing down on me. The bullet hole in his head is still gaping wide. Whoever Sergei Kravinoff once was, fighting for purpose in life and finding peace only in death, he's no longer in this rotting undead carcass. That means all bets are off!
Desperate, I take a chance and shove a hand into his face, triggering my web-shooter to blast a load into his face. The web smothers his face and I hear a muffled roar, even as he continues to strangle me. I summon all of my available strength and slam both hands on the side of his head, boxing his ears. Zombie Kraven here recoils in pain and I break from his grasp, head butting him in the process.
Sufficed to say, OW!
I drop to the ground into a kneel, gasping for air and grabbing my head as it continues to spin wildly. I look up, squinting through the pain, and see that monstrosity stumbling around, clawing at its own face wildly. He rips the glob of webbing from his face, tearing strips of flesh and chunks of bone with it. It's a disgusting sight to see, but only proves my suspicions. Kraven is dead and his body has been re-animated by something or someone, but how and why?
No time to think. Head's clearing up just as Kraven charges at me. I wait until the last possible second and leap frog into the air above him, planting both feet into his back as I drop down on him. He slams into the rooftop with a sickening crunch and I bound off of him. He shuffles up and roars with the thunder overhead, rain beating down on his decaying body, then makes a run at me again.
My senses are coming back to me The drum beat and pounding in my head is fading. It's with ease I spring towards him, dropping low to avoid his arms as he grabs for me, then thrust up with my legs to power an uppercut into his torso. I hear his ribs crack with that blow, and act quick to punch him in the head, then deliver a staggering kick to his knee. Kraven collapses before me and I ball up both of my hands together, raise them above my ready, and ready the killing blow to this zombie's skull.
I mean, that's how it works in all the B movies, right?
It's then my spider-sense explodes and I hear a familiar sound; a gunshot from the distance. I follow my instincts and back-flip out of the way of the shot, hearing a strange “ping” sound, then propel myself into the air. I scout the area as I fall backwards into a crouch on the rooftop's ledge.
My eyes fall on the spot where I was standing. A mangled dart?
I look up from there and I see the shooter, standing atop of the rooftop access to our right. It's a woman appearing in her late thirties, much like Kraven, with short black hair. She's wearing a dark body suit that has a white, puffy mane. She has a rifle trained on me and I notice several hunting knives strapped to her body, as well as a holster on her hip with a pistol in it. It seems she's a kindred spirit with the whole hunter/animal motif...
“Who the heck – ?” I grumble. “No, wait. Let me guess. Mrs. Kraven the Hunter?”
Spider-sense tingles and I cartwheel on the building's ledge out of the way of another dart.
“Lady Kraven?”
Again, spider-sense tingles and I duck my head to the left, narrowly avoiding another dart.
“Okay, okay. Kravena the Huntress?”
Spider-sense. Gunshot. Leap, flip, and dodge like clock-work. I land on the other side of the fallen Kraven in a ready stance.
“Fool! My name is Aleksandra Kravinoff and that is my husband!” she boasted proudly.
“Soo... Mrs. Kraven the Hunter it is then?” She pulls back the slide on her rifle and readies another dart. “Okay, seriously, lady, cool it!”
“He was always so cold to me after he met you,” she said in a thick Russian accent. “The hunt was his life, I was his life, until you, the Spider, came along.”
It all starts coming together. I was drugged
“Did you do this to him?” I ask.
Caught between us, Kraven starts to moan and wheeze as he rises to his feet in shambles from the beating I gave him. Decaying skin, bloodied hands and mouth, he slowly looks my way and begins to stumble towards me, one leg dead and dragging from a shattered knee.
Aleksandra grits her teeth and clenches a fist.
“YOU did this to him!” she says with venom in her voice. “Defeat after defeat, you drove him mad to the breaking point. He long forgot the hunt and his family, taking his life as he could think of no other purpose in life other than conquering you.”
Aleksandra drops her head and lowers her rifle, her bitterness and anger giving way to a frustrated shame.
“Yes, I have brought him back to life, a shell of what he once was. But you, you are connected to the web of life. Devouring you will bring him back to me, bring back the man he once was, and I will show him true purpose in his life once more!”
She looks back up to me and raises her rifle.
“STOP!” I shout. She hesitates and Kraven's corpse lunges at me with arms out. I grab him by the hair and twist him to face Aleksandra, showing her his mangled and rotted face. “Do you really think this is the man you loved?” I point to the corpse of the man he was devouring only moments ago as the rain continues to pour down on us. “Do you really think this is what he would have wanted in death?
“Lady, I knew Kraven in his final moments. I knew him better than anyone could possibly know, and he was a man tortured by much more than his failure to kill me or anyone else. He took his own life to end a cycle of pain and violence, and even in death I know for a fact he struggled to find peace!”
Kraven struggles against my grip, gasping and moaning, trying frantically to grab at me. I held his head firm, pointing it in Aleksandra's direction so she could see the mutilated remains of her husband.
She continued to look down on us, taken aback by my words and the image of Kraven after death staring back at her. I can tell she's at a loss for words. But one person wasn't...
“Ssssassh.... Sssasshhaaa...” Kraven growls under his breath.
Aleksandra lowers her rifle and stands up straight. In shock, tears begin welling in her eyes.
“Wha.... what did he say...?” she mutters, overwhelmed in grief. Was she Sasha?
Kraven starts to snarl and pull away from me towards his wife. I see his eyes narrowing sharply at her and he licks his lips, raising his arms out to her. The longer he looks at her the hungrier he gets.
Even I can't believe what I'm seeing! Before I could say anything, my spider-sense explodes. I hear Aleksandra draw her pistol and when I look up she shoots Kraven in the head, causing it to explode in my hands. I recoil as his blood and skull fragments splatter onto me. I drop his remains and look back up to Aleksandra, just in time to see her leap off of the rooftop access and over the building's ledge.
I spring away from Kraven's desecrated corpse and land on the building ledge in a flash, ready to do what I can to catch her or save her from certain death, but... Aleksandra is gone, lost in the rain and darkness. Like she was never there. I look around frantically, but I can't tell if there's anywhere else she could have gone but straight down.
Thunder ripples across the sky and I find myself at a loss for what just happened. I look over my shoulder, seeing the rooftop covered in the remains of two corpses, one of which was one of my greatest enemies and the other an innocent. I look back out to the city and sigh.
It's over, but as one question is answered another is asked... Who the heck is Aleksandra Kravinoff?
‘ORCHARD OF SKULLS’
Featuring: Pitchfork by John Cheese.
The black Ford Escort pulled up to the end of the track that ran through the orchard, the skeletal branches clinging hold to the last yellow leaves of autumn, skull like rotting apples sneering down at the car. Stepping out of the driver’s side of the Escort, a young man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt displaying a crosshair in a circle with the text ‘Crossfire was Right’ underneath the image, spat onto the dirt as he waited for his passenger to exit the vehicle.
“Babe, what are we doing here?” A blonde-haired woman dressed in cut-off jeans and a pink crop top asked as she swung out of the car, her high heels cored one of the rotting apples scattered on the floor.
“This is where my contact told me to drop the money.” The man stated as he pulled a silver brief-case out of the back seat of the car. “We do this and we owe the Maggia nothing, all my debts and yours are out the window.” He added as he took a few steps into the orchard, the faded yellow work lights strung along the branches doing little to illuminate the ground.
“I don’t like this.” The woman whimpered as she followed as close behind him as she could, the sound of footfalls radiating around the orchard, the only other sound the occasional crunch of apples underfoot. “Why here?”
“Because the Count has a creepy backwoods aesthetic obsession.” The man stated with a snort, his bravado covering up the growing feeling of unease he had. “Hell if I know, I just know that a powerful man asked me to deliver money here, so that’s what I do.” He spat as he stepped over a rusted ladder that had been laid across the path.
“Then let’s leave it here and go.” The woman gulped as she tripped over the ladder, the heels of her shoes snapping, forcing her to kick them off.
“We’ve been asked to leave it there.” The man stated as he pointed to the scarecrow strung up on a cross in the middle of the orchard. Walking up to the scarecrow, the man looked the effigy up and down taking in the burlap face with two large ‘X’s painted on it and a stitched mouth, a torso with ragged clothes and two robust legs but no hands on the end of its arms. “I’m leaving this here ugly.” He snorted as he turned to his girlfriend and smiled before reaching for his phone to take a selfie. As he did, he involuntary gasped, the same moment his girlfriend screamed and sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen.
“Jenny.” He wheezed as he dropped to the floor next to the scarecrow, his girlfriend backing away as the effigy tore itself off the cross, a pitchfork covered in blood in its left hand. Lurching away, the scarecrow chased Jenny as she ran for the car, her panicked screams echoing around the trees and merging with the wheezing ragged berths of her pursuer. Running faster than she ever knew possible, Jenny reached the ladder and tripped head first into the mud. Adrenaline coursing, panic gripping her Jenny didn’t stand up but crawled on all fours, her vision blurred by the mud across her face.
“Who, what are you?” Jenny gulped as the scarecrow towered over her, his pitchfork blade slamming down in-front of her, the rusty metal slashing through the top of her scalp. With a scream, Jenny kicked out at the scarecrow, the blow striking the thick legs of the effigy in a last-ditch effort to escape from her fate.
“They call me Pitchfork.” The scarecrow whispered causing Jenny to suddenly realise that her attacker wasn’t a mere scarecrow but instead was a man in costume. Screaming in fear and a little fury, a second pitchfork slid out of the other arm and stabbed through her back. As her vision began to fade, she felt her body move involuntarily as Pitchfork dragged her back towards where he had been waiting for them.
Stabbing the body of his first victim with his free fork hand, Pitchfork dragged both corpses to a small shed that sat just off the edge of the grove he’d been waiting in. Retracting the pitchfork stabbed into the male victim, Pitchfork extended a normal hand out of his sleeve and unlocked the door. Kicking the body through the now open door and down the stairs, Pitchfork crept inside dragging Jenny’s body behind him, and after a little struggling deposited her body on a pentagram etched into the wooden floor. Heading back up the stairs to close the door, Pitchfork stopped as heard something quiet sound behind him.
“We need the offering.” A quiet, almost whispering voice hissed, causing Pitchfork to shudder. Turning back down the stairs, Pitchfork rolled the male victim onto the pentagram and kneeled down his head bowed as if in prayer.
“I bring you the offering, two souls as contracted.” Pitchfork replied as he tried to avoid looking at the two dead bodies in front of him.
“This will suffice.” The whispering unseen force stated as Pitchfork heard the door at the top of the steps creak. Turning around, he saw a man with scraggily brown hair dressed in jeans and plaid shirt standing at the top of the stairs.
“Now what have I told you about keeping that door locked brother.” The man at the top of the stairs scolded the murderous supervillain. “And about cleaning up the crap these city dwellers leave in our orchard.” He added as he closed the door and walked down, placing the case next to a workbench loaded with rusty hand-tools.
“I’m sorry Thomas.” Pitchfork whimpered as his brother bent down next to him and closed the eyes of the woman. “The demon says it’s enough, that it’ll keep our farm safe for another year.”
“Good.” Thomas answered as he got up and walked over to the workbench crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene before him. “You’ve done well, now back to the house and I’ll finish up here.” He ordered as he saw Pitchfork turn his head to look at something unseen. Shuddering slightly, he walked up the stairs and left the hut, his brother following him closing the doors behind him and sliding a deadbolt across the lock. Heading back down the stairs, Thomas bent down and removed a loose board and the miniature speaker underneath it. Pressing the button at the top of the speaker, Thomas heard the demonic whisper he had recorded years earlier.
Placing the speaker on the workbench, Thomas picked up the case and placed it next to the tool, before drawing his phone. Scrolling through his messages, Thomas found the code he had been sent by his Maggia contact and entered it into the dials on the case, the lid sliding open to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Counting the stacks, Thomas smiled as he looked at the money he had been given to terminate one of Count Nefaria’s debtors who had fallen behind with his payments.
Picking up his phone he dialled a number and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. “Hello cousin, yeah I have another one.” Thomas announced as he removed two stacks of the hundred-dollar bills. “Yeah left on my drive, black Ford Escort, tonight, well that’s fine.” He continued as he placed the two stacks of money in a bag. “You do it tonight and I’ll give you your cut at dinner tomorrow.” He finished. “Okay see you then cousin.” He finished as he terminated the call before taking a photograph of the bodies, texting the image to his Maggia contact.
“Well time to clean this up.” Thomas sighed as he pulled a cart out of the corner of the room before stripping the bodies and then loading both of them onto the bed of the trolly. Opening a door at the back of the room, Thomas pushed the cart into a tunnel and through into a clean concrete walled chamber filled with vats. Removing a vat lid, the tangy smell of apple acid wafted through the room Thomas picked up Jenny’s body and pushed it into the vat, the corpse drowning in sour yellow liquid. Moving to a second vat, Thomas picked up the second body and deposited it into the vat. Sighing, Thomas walked across the room to a bottling line, the bottles labelled with the text, ‘Skull Apple Cider’ complete with the image of a skull carved into an apple.
“Ma and Pa were idiots to grow these sour apples on this barren package of land.” Thomas snorted as he took a bottle of cider and took a big swig, his face screwing up by the sour taste of the alcohol. “Even with the loans from the Maggia this place fell apart, luckily I had the good sense to diversify what my orchard produces.” He croaked as his phone pinged, the confirmation text of a contract completed by the Maggia arrived in his inbox. “Luckily my brother’s an idiot, he’d do anything to keep Ma and Pa’s dream alive.” He added as he heard something clang to the floor from across the room.
“Who’s there?” Thomas asked as he broke the bottle he had been drinking against the bench. “Come out! Show yourself!” He ordered as he saw a pink haired woman dressed in a green catsuit and cape, a burning hand print on her right cheek walk out from behind the acid vat he’d deposited Jenny into. “Who are you?!”
“I’m the person you’re stealing business from Thomas Mulligan.” The woman stated calmly as she walked towards Thomas, an evil looking smile on her face.
“I’m not stealing from anyone.” Thomas snarled as he met the woman half way across the room, the bottle held out ready to strike the pink haired woman.
“Aren’t you?” The pink haired woman answered, not bothering to look at the bottle pointed towards her throat. “Your little ruse with your brother, did you think that nobody was listening to how you were calling out to the underworld, to the dark forces of the world.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” Thomas snarled as he got ready to thrust the bottle into the pink haired woman. “Get off my property now!” He added as he thrust the bottle into the woman’s neck, the glass melting as it came into contact with her flesh and blood.
“I’m not the one you should be afraid of.” The pink haired woman replied as a drumming sound echoed from the vats. “It should be your victims,” She added as the door to the depot opened up behind her, a tall figure with a burning pitchfork stood silhouetted against the emergency lighting standing there. “All your victims.” She finished as the vat lids shuddered as if they were being pushed from the inside.
“Rodney?” Thomas asked as the figure walked towards him, the burlap mask of Pitchfork fused to his face, cinders arching off the weapon as staggered towards him.
“You asked me to kill for Ma and Pa’s dream, their souls.” Pitchfork cried as he towered over his brother, cinders dripping down the mask onto the floor. “I told you I didn’t want to kill, but then the whispers began, whispers you said you couldn’t hear.”
“I couldn’t.” Thomas gulped as he backed up, painfully aware that the pink haired woman was no longer standing behind him. “I kept Ma and Pa’s dream alive, you would be on the streets if it weren’t for me.”
“I couldn’t stop hearing the voices, he whispered to me as I slept, as I worked the trees and the presses.” Rodney continued as the lid of one of the vats was thrown off and a skeletal hand with only a few slithers of flesh on its bones emerged. “He told me the truth, you lied to me!” He continued as the other vats opened, a corpse crawling out of each container, malic acid dripping onto the floor, the stench of rot and cider mixing in the air.
“I promise I’ll change; we’ll save the farm together you and me, brothers and best buds.” Thomas gasped as he looked around at the horde of apple acid dripped corpses srrounding him and his brother. “You and me together, standing against the world.” He gulped as he looked around for anything that he could use as a weapon.
“I ain’t Rodney anymore, I’m Pitchfork.” Rodney replied as he knocked Thomas to the floor with the stave of his pitchfork. “He whispered into my ear, promised to save Ma and Pa’s dream and their souls in return for doing what he wants.”
“Ma and Pa were idiots for setting up here!” Thomas growled as he started to get to his feet only for a burning pitchfork to slam down into his chest, the impact and the flames causing unimaginable pain to spread across his body.
“By using their names in your lies you dammed them to hell!” Pitchfork cried as Thomas’s blood flowed out of his wound, the liquid glowing yellow as it pooled onto the floor. Screaming in pain, Thomas saw his brother step back as the acid dripped horde descended on him, each touch melting his flesh into the same liquid that his blood had transmuted into.
“Rodney, please!” Thomas called as Pitchfork placed his weapon into the pool of his blood, igniting the chemical the scream continuing as his body burnt.
“Rodney is gone, only Pitchfork remains.” Pitchfork hissed as he dipped the haft of his pitchfork into his liquified brother, the pink haired woman smirking as she looked on at Thomas’s demise. “Now free of you, I can serve the master.”
“The master will be happy with your rebirth.” The pink haired woman stated as she placed her arm around Pitchfork’s shoulders. “Between us I’ll weave their dreams and you’ll stoke their nightmares. The night is no longer safe for man, they belong to those who dwell in darkness.”
‘THE BUTTERFLY PROPHECIES’
Featuring: The Man in the Mystery Mask by John Cheese.
Point Pleasant, West Virginia.
In the half darkness, the figure wearing a thick brown trenchcoat looked out over the Ohio River at the collapsed bridge, the wreckage from the vehicles that had been crossing it bobbing in the river. Flicking open his lighter, the figure pulled the arm of his trench coat up to reveal a tattoo of a black serpent chewing its tail and touched the marking with one of his fingers.
“Apelati in timp.” The man called, his tattoo glowing green as the area around him glowed the same colour, before coalescing into four skeletons flesh rapidly filling onto the bones to form living people. Turning to face the summoned figures, the man dressed in a trench coat looked at them his face covered in a green mask that matched the armour he wore. “I didn’t think that this thing would work.” He mused as his tattoo faded back to its ink black colour, “But it’s good to know that the Ouroboros Mark can connect us through time as well as space.”
“The Secret Defenders will always endeavour to answer those who need it.” A black-haired man with a deeply scarred face, dressed in a blue jumpsuit stated. “Particularly when one of our own calls us, but to where and more importantly when?”
“We’re just outside of Point Pleasant in West Virginia.” The Masked Man announced as he looked over the group of people he had summoned. “The date is the 19th December, 1967.”
“Then we are in the deep future?” The largest of the group, a native American man dressed in buckhide, a massive double handed tomahawk slung over his shoulder stated.
“More like the deep past.” A woman with pale skin and cropped black hair replied as she smoothed the indigo skirt and crop top she wore. “But why does this seem familiar?”
“Because this is the aftermath of the Silver Bridge Collapse tragedy.” The oldest member of the group, a silver-haired woman dressed in jeans and a grey blouse stated as she gestured to the remains of the bridge, the movement revealing the holstered pistol beneath her shoulder. “But this isn’t about the bridge, this is about the creature.”
“There calling him the Mothman, and if he were a normal man, or one of these mutants that have started appearing then I wouldn’t have called you here.” The masked man stated as he led the group to a waiting flatbed truck. “Truth is, he’s some kind of demon, maybe a member of the undead.”
“Why do you think that?” The older woman asked as the man opened the door of the truck for his summoned guests.
“Because I’ve killed him at least three times, left nothing but dust behind but he’s come back every time.” The Masked Man stated as the two women got into the back seat, while the Native American man got into the bed of the truck, his large size prohibiting him from entering the vehicle.
“Doesn’t mean its undead.” The man in the jumpsuit replied as he slipped into the front passenger seat. “Several people from my time have come back from the dead without being ghouls or vampires.” He added as their host got in the driver’s seat. “But you should know that Coronel Fury.”
“Very astute of you, just shame I’m not him.” The man in the mask replied as he turned the engine over and turned the headlights on.
“Then perhaps introductions are needed.” The younger woman suggested as she looked out at the dark star-studded sky. “My code name is War-Yore back in my time.”
“They call me War Wolf.” The man in the front seat stated as he took a deep breath before pointing to the man in the bed of the truck. “I’ve worked with the big guy before; he calls himself Towering Oak.”
“And I am Nina Valentine.” The older woman replied as the man driving the car veered off onto a paved road heading out of town. “Which just leaves the man who summoned us. If you are not Coronel Nick Fury then who are you?”
“My name is erased from history.” The driver replied. “The intelligence community just calls me the Man in the Mystery Mask.” He stopped and chuckled as they drove past a sign that read ‘McClintic Wildlife Management Area’, the words ‘TNT’ painted over that with a long scratch mark across the lettering. “At least the ones who believe I exist.” He added as Towering Oak tapped on the side of the truck, causing all the people inside to look to where he was crouched. Behind him in the dark, a black shape was following the vehicle, its red eyes glowing in the gloom. Pulling the truck to a stop, the Man in the Mystery Mask kicked open the door, his hand reaching for a pistol hidden under the steering wheel. “And there’s the devil himself.” He snarled, as three more doors opened up.
Screaming an inhuman screech, the Mothman swooped down on the truck and Towering Oak, the giant of a man swinging his tomahawk at the cryptid, forcing the attacker back. Exiting the car, the other Secret Defenders looked up at the humanoid creature, its body barely illuminated by the red eyes glowering down at them.
“Shocked to see me again?” The Man in the Mystery Mask asked the Mothman as he fired a few shots up at the creature, Nina and Warwolf following suit, their rounds ripping through the darkness as their target dropped to the ground and lunged towards the truck. Stepping forward, War Yore flicked her wrist, a thick slippery mess of tendrils springing from a small disc on her skin restraining the creature, causing it to fall to the floor. Walking over to the creature, the Man in the Mystery Mask put his pistol to the creature’s head, ready to make the execution shot.
“Wait, before you kill it, let me examine it.” Nina stated as she holstered her pistol and placed her hand on the Mothman’s head, a barbed proboscis jabbing out of its mouth as it tried to stab here hand. “Strange, this creature was born a human, but then…” She stopped as the Mothman began to flex, straining to break the bindings.
“Nina, you may want to step back.” Warwolf barked as Nina removed her hand and took a step back just as Mothman snapped its bindings and took to the air. With a scream of anger, it divebombed the older woman, only for Towering Oak to leap off the bed of the truck and tackle the Mothman out of the sky, the pair engaged in a wrestling match as each combatant tried to overpower the other. Stepping in Warwolf grabbed the Mothman’s wings and pulled the monster back, scales scattering from the wings of the creature onto his hands and the ground around him.
“You may have escaped Spiderman’s webbing.” War Yore stated as she flicked her wrist again. “But let’s see you escape a coating of Baron Zemo’s Adhesive X.” She stated, a thick yellow paste springing out of the same disc, gluing the Mothman to the ground, allowing Towering Oak to leaver Mothman off him, before delivering a powerful strike with his tomahawk, separating the creatures head from its shoulders, it’s body exploding into dust.
“Let’s hope that’s enough to keep it down.” Warwolf snarled as he looked at the developing rash on his hands.
“It should be, the creature is mortal.” Nina stated as she went over and held Warwolf’s hands, golden light washing over the rash and healing the skin. “This creature has memories from before its transformation. She was on the bridge when it collapsed, she went into the river and was pulled out by the original Mothman.”
“Wait, this creature was the one seen on the Silver Bridge?” The Man in the Mystery Mask asked as he looked at the body of the Mothman.
“I think you’re looking at the wrong thing.” War Yore stated as she rubbed her wrist and looked down at the body before cocking her head. “This thing was a human woman four days ago.” She stated before turning to Nina. “Was this woman transformed by sorcery?” She continued as Warwolf took a deep sniff before looking out into the dark woods surrounding the truck.
“There’s nothing magical about it.” Nina replied, as Warwolf replaced the ammunition clip in his pistol and holstered it. “It’s a natural creature, or as natural as such things are.”
“No, it’s not natural, I think I’ve seen this thing in my time.” War Yore gulped as she looked over to the Man in the Mystery Mask. “How many people have gone missing since the first sighting of this Mothman?”
“There’s been a lot.” He replied as Warwolf cracked his knuckles. “Why?”
“Because there’s more than one of these things.” Warwolf growled, as he turned to Towering Oak. “Lots more. These Mothmen have a lair somewhere, one where they are taking people to change them into more of their kind. If we leave this any longer then these things will be reaching plague proportions. They’ll overrun Point Pleasant certainly, maybe all of Appalachia, possibly even further if they are transitory.”
“They are, or it is in my time.” War Yore stated as she rotated her palm upwards, projecting a holographic-figures, one square and boxy and one akin to the Mothman that had attacked them, from it. “The old shield archives list an old criminal named Imago Vitroli, he was transformed by the Hydra scientist Arnim Zola.”
“I’ve seen some of Zola’s work.” The Man in the Mystery Mask stated as he looked at the boxy figure with narrowed eyes. “They usually aren’t as well developed as these Mothmen.”
“Not Mothmen, the creature is listed in archives as ‘the Butterfly’, at least during the 1990s.” Warwolf huffed as he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. “We’re wasting time, I can smell three more of these things somewhere nearby in the woods. I can track them, but we need to get moving now.” He added as his body convulsed, forcing him down onto all fours as he huffed and snarled. Moving to help him, War Yore was prevented from getting close to him by Towering Oak.
“The wolf is emerging; he is safe as man or beast but not when caught in between.” Towering Oak stated as Warwolf transformed into a humanoid grey skinned werewolf. Stretching and getting back to his feet, Warwolf took a deep sniff before snarling as he looked up at the trio of red eyes looking at them from the treeline. As they realised, they had been spotted, the owners of the eyes retreated into the darkness.
“Time for the hunt!” Warwolf snarled as he sprinted into the darkness, his teammates looking at each other before Towering Oak lead them after the tracker. Despite the sound of skittering creatures above them, the Secret Defenders weren’t attacked as they made their way to a series of concrete bunkers deep in the woods. Pacing around the buildings, Warwolf came to a stop outside one and snarled as he looked inside the bunker, a red glow illuminating the inside of the concrete structure.
“That’s a lot of Mothmen or Butterflies or whatever these things are.” Nina stated as she unholstered one of her pistols and lit up her hand with a glowing blue arcane energy. Rubbing her wrists, War Yore summoned up a wrist mounted flamethrower as the five Secret Defenders entered the bunkers, the walls covered in a slick orange resin, multiple Butterflies crawling on the walls and ceiling, next to several humans entombed in the stick amber. With a scream, the creatures dropped on the Secret Defenders, gunfire and energy blasts meeting the creatures, even felling some of them as they attacked.
Swinging his tomahawk, Towering Oak slashed through multiple Butterflies, his axe eventually stuck in the skull of one of his adversaries. Switching to his fists, he saw his allies and for a moment thought they were holding their own, it was then when he felt something sharp stab through his chest and looked down to see one of the Butterflies looming over him. Falling to the floor he saw two more creatures leap onto Warwolf, their proboscis stabbing into his back and shoulders before being bucked off. Above them, the bodies of the entombed humans twitched, and their stomachs ruptured and newly hatched Butterflies, reswelling the defenders ranks, as they climbed down, colour blushing into their wings, green liquid dripping from their proboscises.
“Why do you come to my nest?” A voice hissed from above as the largest Butterfly with black wings and a pale-yellow death’s head skull on its thorax hissed. “Why do you kill my family?” He hissed as War Yore’s flamethrower ran out of fuel, forcing her to retract the weapon and summon a long glowing whip from her other hand.
“You are abducting and killing people!” The Man in the Mystery Mask yelled up as the Butterflies around them began to encircle them, ready for a final onslaught.
“They are food, they are children.” The Butterfly stated, as War Wolf took a sniff, as if catching the scent of something else in the bunkers. “We spread, we become masters. They lose their humanity like I did, become imagos ready to serve.”
“Not on my watch.” The Man in the Mystery Mask replied as the other Butterflies continued their onslaught, beginning to overwhelm the Secret Defenders. Groaning, Nina summoned up an electrical dome across her allies causing the attacking Butterflies to be pushed back.
“This isn’t going well.” Warwolf snarled as Towering Oak got to his feet, blood and green fluid dripping from his mouth.
“What if we can destroy everything.” War Yore moaned as she summoned up a missile on her back. “This is a Generation One Terminax missile, it will destroy everything in this bunker but I can’t launch it, the Achieve doesn’t allow it.”
“Meaning you have to be inside to activate it.” The Man in the Mystery Mask sighed as Towering Oak rubbed his head before taking the missile in his hands.
“Then I will detonate it.” Towering Oak stated as he looked at the missile and placed it on the ground. “I can feel something sweet on my tongue, feel something sticky and foreign on my skin, one of these creatures resides in me. I am lost but I can stop these Butterflies. Go, I will stem this swarm.” He added as the Butterflies began to hammer on the dome of energy, the lightning beginning to spark under the onslaught, proboscis squeezing in trying to jab at those sheltering inside.
“I’ll see you on the other side friend.” War Wolf stated as he touched Towering Oak with his clawed hand before looking to the door, spotting the huddled mass of dark figures standing outside, red eyes glowering at them. “Here we go, Secret Defenders charge!” He roared as Nina expanded the lightning dome, momentarily pinning the Butterflies to the resin for a moment, just long enough for the Secret Defenders to escape. Seconds later the Terminax missile detonated, scourging the inside of the bunkers with cleansing fire, the Butterflies caught inside screaming, the shockwave knocking the escaping Secret Defenders to the ground.
In an instant the Butterflies outside leapt onto the Secret Defenders, the prone humans beating their attackers away just in time. From the burnt concrete bunkers, the dark winged Butterfly emerged, screaming, its proboscis dripping with green liquid.
“You burn my home!” The Butterfy boomed as it pushed two of its subordinates off the Man with the Mystery Mask and pulled him off the ground, a very human rage evident on its inhuman face. “You burn my children!” He screamed as Warwolf bucked his attackers off and slashed open one of the Butterflies on top of War Yore. Groaning, she got to her feet and summoned up a shield shaped like an eagle on one arm and a gauntlet on the other.
“Okay I’m done with these Butterflies yelled!” War Yore groaned as the Butterflies on Nina vapourised in a shower of pink sparks. “It was never this hard to fight or this smart in my time.” She added, as one of the Butterflies lunged at War Wolf and stabbed its proboscis through his skull, the bladed appendage jutting from his mouth. Screaming in anger and horror, War Yore opened fire with her gauntlet, sound waves rupturing the Butterfly that had killed Warwolf.
“You will be my new child.” The Butterfly hissed as it jabbed its proboscis into the Man in the Mystery Mask, his body convulsing as he threw it aside. “You too female.” It hissed as it advanced on War Yore from behind as Nina emptied her clip into two Butterflies, their bodies exploding into dust. Turning round just in time, War Yore rose her shield to block the proboscis, only for her attack to snatch it away, the force breaking his victim’s hands.
“Sorry I’ve already had two families, and both of them were better than yours.” War Yore replied as the Butterfly jabbed its proboscis into her chest. “No more children for you.” She sneered as her skin began to steam and glowed green before detonating in a shower of gamma radiation, vaporizing her body. Its body burnt by nuclear fire, the Butterfly advanced on the last Secret Defender standing, staggering as it took step after step, green liquid dripping from its wounds. Before reaching Nina, it collapsed at her feet, dust and shed scales scattering across the ground. Taking a deep breath, Nina fired a shot, executing the creature before turning to the Man in the Mystery Mask as he sat up clutching his chest wound.
“Don’t let this thing be born, end these monsters like the others did.” He groaned as his hands spasmed, a spreading scaly rash forming around the wound.
“I’m sorry.” Nina replied as she summoned five mystical hands that picked up the Man in the Mystery Mask and dragged his thrashing form into the burnt out concrete bunker, his screams echoing around the structure as he ran for the door only to see Nina dropping to a cross-legged position on the ground next to the dead dark-winged Butterfly. Chanting in a language he didn’t recognise stones ripped from the forest floor and flew towards him, bricking him inside the concrete bunker.
“Why, why are you keeping me alive!” The Man in the Mystery Mask yelled as he saw the body of the dead Butterfly shift slightly.
“You know why. We uphold the natural order of time, these Butterflies persist but not in numbers. Both Warwolf and War Yore confirmed that.” Nina replied as the stone filled the door, locking the Man in the Mystery Mask in the concrete bunker. Not even raising from her seated position, Nina felt cold hands reach on either side of her head and twist, her vision fading to black as behind her the Butterfly collapsed onto her, his body exploding into dust and scales as it fell. As the sounds of battle were replaced by the sounds of nature, they were joined for many nights by the harrowing scream of a man trapped inside his tomb.