“It’s over, Mobius. You led us on a merry chase but it ends now.”

  “You’re right about that – it is going to end now. But not the way you think! I’m not just practicing minor magicks and spicing things up with illusion. I have The Devil’s Fire – and the blessings of a demon!”

  Without turning to the others, Lazarus said, “Let’s do this.”

  Morgan and Samantha opened fire, as did their employer. Bullets riddled Leviathan’s form and he screamed in unexpected pain. After the report given by Wade earlier, Lazarus had replaced all of their bullets with silver-tipped ones, each of which had been dipped in holy water.

  Leviathan was driven back against the wall but he refused to fall, despite the wounds that covered his body. Snarling, Leviathan raised both hands and let loose with The Devil’s Fire.

  Eun, who had been waiting for his chance to strike, suddenly felt his body engulfed by fire. He screamed in panic and threw himself to the floor, trying to roll out the flames. Morgan broke off his own attack to help his friend but he’d taken no more than a step before his own clothing began to smoke. Within seconds, he, too, was on fire.

  Samantha screamed in despair, not knowing what to do. Lazarus, meanwhile, reached for two vials of liquid from his coat. Samantha recognized them as more of the holy water they’d used in blessing their bullets. He tossed one to her and shouted, “Throw it onto Eun! Now!”

  Both heroes yanked out the stoppers from their vials and threw the liquid into the fire. Samantha wasn’t sure what good it would do but to her astonishment, the flames quickly died out. In both cases, the men looked more singed than burned, their clothes having taken the worst of it.

  Lazarus whirled as Leviathan lunged for him. The masked villain slammed into the hero and shoved him hard against the wall. “You think holy water will save you? I can burn you from the inside out if I want!”

  Lazarus jammed the butt of his pistol against Leviathan’s head but the blow did little besides further enraging his foe. When Samantha drove a hard kick into his kidneys, Leviathan spun about and backhanded her.

  Lazarus took this as his moment to strike. Again, his hands disappeared into the pockets of his coat.

  Villains everywhere knew the dangers of facing Lazarus Gray in combat… but when given time to prepare, Lazarus was an even more capable foe.

  In this case, he pulled forth a golden medallion… the same one that he’d had on his person when he’d first washed up on the shores of Sovereign City. On one side was the image of a nude male figure, adorned with the head of a roaring lion. On the other side, the words Lazarus Gray were scratched into the surface.

  Though everyone else in Assistance Unlimited considered the medallion to be nothing more than an Illuminati artifact, it was actually far more than that. One of the last acts that Richard Winthrop had committed was the theft of this medallion… and it was because The Illuminati’s founder himself had charged the object with incredible power.

  Johann Adam Weishaupt had formed the dark society that became The Illuminati, adopting the name “Lazarus Gray” within the group. The Lazarus part of his identity reflected his rebirth, while the Gray was meant to show the moral ambiguity that The Illuminati embraced.

  The ultimate symbol of his rebirth was his decision to take a portion of his soul and bind it within the medallion. Recognizing that the men who served him in The Illuminati would covet his position, Weishaupt had planned to use the medallion to restore himself to life in the event of his own demise… unfortunately, the plan had failed, leaving nothing more than a mystically powered charm in the wake of his death.

  The very existence of the medallion was known to only a few, one of who had been Walther Lunt. Gray’s former mentor had told him the story behind the object, not realizing that someday it would be used against the very society that he served.

  Lazarus slammed the medallion to the back of Leviathan’s head. He held it firmly in place as he wrapped his other arm around the villain’s neck. Holding on as the madman began to thrash about in hopes of dislodging him, Lazarus said the same words that Weishaupt had spoken, centuries before. “Eruptus afillium unos! Mahko jenx!”

  Leviathan’s eyes flew open and he howled like an animal caught in a bear trap. He erupted into flame, covering both Lazarus and himself in brightly burning fire.

  Lazarus held on tight, ignoring the pain. He believed that he had died on that beach in Sovereign, coming back from the dead for some greater purpose. Perhaps, he mused, that purpose would be revealed today.

  Death was not something that he feared any longer.

  Leviathan gasped as a portion of his soul was ripped right out of him, landing inside the same medallion that housed the personal energy of Weishaupt.

  The flames flickered and died out, leaving both men gasping in pain. Lazarus released the villain, who sagged to the floor. The medallion was now glowing with dark power and Lazarus dropped it back within his coat pocket.

  “Chief?”

  Lazarus looked over at Morgan, who was helping Eun to his feet. Both men had pink skin and were wearing nothing more than burned tatters, but they were relatively unharmed. Lazarus suspected that he’d suffered worse burns than they had. “Yes?”

  “Is he going to be getting back up?”

  Lazarus smiled, knowing that the entire team hoped that the answer would be negative. Samantha held a hand over her bleeding mouth and her eyes carried the flash of terrible anger.

  “That bastard,” she hissed. “If he does stand up again, I want first crack at him.”

  Lazarus reached down and grabbed hold of Leviathan’s collar. “The power’s all gone from him now. He’s just ordinary Anthony Mobius now… maybe a bit less than that.”

  Leviathan staggered to his feet, his metallic mask slipping to the floor. Underneath was no scarred visage, nor any unholy features. He was simply a man, exhausted and scared. “No… my soul… she’s going to come and take it,” he whispered.

  “Now there will be less for her to have,” Lazarus replied. He nodded at Eun, who hustled forward and placed handcuffs around Leviathan’s wrists.

  The villain turned his head to look at Lazarus. “You’re making a mistake. You should kill me… if you don’t… I swear, you’re going to regret it.”

  Samantha moved beside the men. “Lazarus, may I be the one to answer him?”

  Lazarus nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Samantha belted Mobius with a right cross that would have been the envy of Joe Louis.

  Eun caught the unconscious Mobius and grinned at the team’s prettiest member. “You’re one tough dame,” he said with a wink.

  Samantha gingerly touched her lip. “If this leaves a mark, I may not be done with him yet.”

  Chapter XIV

  Never Truly The End

  Three days later, the forces of Thunder Jim Wade’s group and the members of Assistance Unlimited were gathered together at 6196 Robeson Avenue.

  Aside from the myriad of minor injuries, everyone was in good spirits, enjoying the relative peace that came with victory.

  Samantha was playfully teasing both Red and Dirk, both of whom were wooing her affections, while Morgan and Eun were busily arguing over some sports-related issue.

  That left Lazarus and Wade alone in the corner of the sitting room. They sat facing each other, talking in low tones. An untouched glass of brandy was on the table beside Lazarus, while Wade was nursing his third drink.

  “Neat trick you pulled with that medallion,” Wade said, having heard the entire story several times by now.

  “I wasn’t sure it would work,” Lazarus admitted. “I considered using it a while back to deal with an enemy of ours named Femi but I deemed it too risky at the time. This go-around, I had little choice.”

  “Too risky?”

  “Since there was already a soul housed in the gem, I was afraid there wouldn’t be room for anything else… with Leviathan, I was able to drain the power that he’d gained from Alexa and leave the majority of his soul in his body. By not draining all of him, I was able to avoid destroying the medallion.”

  Wade drained the last of his alcohol and set the empty glass down on the table. “So now it’s all wrapped up? Mobius is in a nuthouse, babbling about his immortal soul and Alexa seems to be dead. Too bad we couldn’t have done all this before Leviathan burned all those people.”

  Lazarus nodded in agreement.

  After a moment of silence, Wade leaned forward, his elbows resting atop his knees. “Do you think he was right?”

  “Who?”

  “Leviathan. He said you should have killed him….”

  “As helpless as he was, it would have been murder, pure and simple. I try not to do that.” Lazarus looked away, thinking of all the villains who had returned to torment the innocent. “But there are times that it’s very tempting.”

  “It’s just this Alexa woman… she wasn’t human. She might be back. And if we left her partner alive, she could spring him.”

  “If that happens, we’ll take them down again.”

  Wade grinned. “You never lose your cool, do you?”

  An unexpected smile fluttered across Lazarus Gray’s lips, so fleeting that Wade wasn’t sure it had been there at all. “One of us has to maintain his composure.”

  “Hey, now! Are you saying that I don’t?”

  “If the shoe fits….”

  “Why, you--!” Wade started to rise but then stopped in place. “You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?” He laughed loudly and slapped Lazarus on the knee.

  “I do have my moments.”

  “You’re okay in my book, Lazarus.” Wade’s smile vanished as a high-pitched squeal filled the room.

  Eun sprang to his feet and left the room. Seconds later, the squealing stopped but Eun’s expression upon his return did nothing to dispel the concern they all felt. “That was the alarm we have hooked up to the mayor’s office. He wanted to alert us that the Williams Bridge just collapsed! And to make it even worse, he just got a message from the people who blew it – and they’re threatening to do the same at another bridge if they aren’t paid off!”

  Lazarus glanced at Wade, who gave a silent nod. “Let’s go and take care of business, then.”

  ***

  While the heroes were embarking on another adventure, a crimson clad figure sat in a darkened apartment. His cloak hid his well-toned frame and emphasized the broad shoulders that he possessed. Beneath his hood, he wore a horned mask, reinforcing the idea that he was some unholy figure given physical form.

  Outside, there were screams, partially obscured by the roll of thunder. In all, ninety people would die in the Williams Bridge collapse but that was a small number compared to the deaths this man had caused in the past.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  A shapely brunette sat on the edge of the bed, her tousled hair falling over one shoulder. Her eyes had a vacant stare to them and a series of small white scars on her throat caught the man in red’s eye. “Strange,” she said after a long moment. “How long was I… dead?”

  “Quite a while. I apologize for any lingering odors. I restored your beauty for the most part but being dead… Well, it has a way of changing you forever.”

  “The Darkling… he killed me?”

  “Yes. You put up one hell of a fight, though.”

  Abigail Cross placed her hands in her lap and her voice became tight. “They never looked for me?”

  “Oh, they’ll say that they did. But they didn’t put much effort into it. Hell, Eidolon spent more time tracking your whereabouts than Lazarus Gray did. But what can you expect from him? He uses his Assistance Unlimited team as tools in a private war. You’re not really his friends.”

  “I want to find The Darkling. I want to kill him.”

  “I’ll help you do that… but first, it’s time that Assistance Unlimited learns their days are numbered.”

  “I’m… not sure that I can help with that.”

  “Oh, you can,” the man in red laughed. “Believe me, they’ll be on their heels when they get a load of you.”

  Abigail looked toward him with her vacant expression. “You want to destroy them,” she said.

  “I do. I’ve watched them for a while now and I think that Mr. Gray is going to present me with a most delicious challenge!” Doctor Satan laughed loudly, a wicked sound that echoed in the dark room.

  Eventually, Abigail began to smile.

  THE END

  SATAN’S CIRCUS

  AN ADVENTURE STARRING LAZARUS GRAY & ASSISTANCE UNLIMITED

  by Barry Reese

  March 1936

  “Isn’t that what you all are?” Sporrenberg countered. “Soldiers in Lazarus Gray’s war?”

  Morgan sat up so quickly that he wheezed in pain. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re not fighting his war. We’re fighting ours.”

  Prologue

  December 1935

  Jakob Sporrenberg’s eyes fluttered open. His brain was still fuzzy from the gas that had stolen his consciousness but he snapped to alertness when he realized that he was suspended from the ceiling, chains wrapped tightly around his wrists. His feet barely scraped the floor and from the ache in his shoulders, he’d been hanging like this for some time.

  The room he was in was painted white and had no windows. There was a single table and chair in the room, both of the sort that men might unfold for a card game or get-together with friends.

  There was one visible exit – a door that swung open as Jakob stared at it. The man who entered wore a long coat that brushed against his ankles, a white mask that resembled a skull, a hat and gloves. Though he’d never seen him in person, Jakob knew who this must be: the description given by Lazarus was hard to forget: this was the underworld terror known as The Darkling.

  “Where are my friends?” Jakob asked, refusing to show any fear.

  The Darkling regarded him coolly for a moment, saying nothing. The shadows in the room seemed to reach out for the masked man, embracing him. He seemed to both become more indistinct and larger at the same time. “I’ve read up on you, Jakob. And I think that you might be the sort of man who could serve at my side.”

  “You’re insane if you think I’ll betray Lazarus. That will not happen.”

  “Why? Because you’ve sworn your loyalty? Like you did to The Fuherer? You betrayed him easily enough.”

  “Release me!” Sporrenberg shouted, pulling against his chains.

  “Touched a nerve, did I?” The Darkling sat down, removing his hat and setting it on the table at his side. He reached and pulled away his mask, revealing a face lined with scars. His hair was missing in places, revealing the overly smooth skin that was left behind after terrible burns. “I want to tell you a story.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I was once in your situation and I didn’t want to listen then, either. I was a pilot in the Great War – a damned good one. After years of not knowing who or what I really was, I found the truth: I was a killer. Unrestrained, that could have made me a bad person… but I killed the right people, for the winning side. That made me a hero. But then the war ended and there was no place for me any longer. So I traveled the world, meeting people, getting into fights and drinking myself into oblivion. Eventually I met a man named Harold Grant – he thought we were alike but he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was doing the same thing I was but he did it because he was bored. He gallivanted around, having adventures, in order to avoid real work. But when we ran into each other in a dingy little tavern in Tibet, we struck up a conversation. He told me about a forbidden sect of monks, hidden in the mountains. He said they lived in a veritable Shangri-La. They never aged, they never took part in the world’s conflicts. They lived alone, practicing arts that had horrified their brothers centuries before. In exchange for immortality and self-peace, you see, you had to give up a little bit of your soul. Grant wanted to find them – for kicks. Intrigued and with nothing better to do, I asked to accompany him. We set off together with no guides and little in the way of supplies. It was fun for him to play at games of life and death… whereas for me, it was part of my self-destructive cycle.”

  “Is there some point to this?” Sporrenberg asked.

  “There is but I don’t blame you for not showing patience. That’s a trait that has to be learned.” The Darkling leaned back in his chair, his scarred visage becoming impassive. His voice sounded distant now, as if he were lost in the mists of his own past. “We looked for that lost city for nearly three weeks, until we were half-starved and covered with bug bites. Grant finally died one night, without even making a sound. When I found him in the morning, I buried him in a tiny unmarked grave. I took the small bits of food he’d been hoarding, along with his papers and his money. I don’t know why – I’d never been a thief before but it seemed a waste to just bury them with his corpse. It wasn’t as if he was going to need them.”

  “Eventually I fell into a coma-like state. I was malnourished and several times I would wake up screaming, gasping as my body fought to stay alive. It was the end of my existence… and then they came for me. The men from the hidden village found me and took me to their home. I remember one of them waking me up, staring down at me with an expression of pure relaxation. He asked me, ‘Do you wish to live?’ I told him yes, I wanted to live… Now that death had me at its door, I realized how badly I wanted to avoid its touch. And then the man said, ‘Very well. But you must learn our ways. You must become one of us so that we may send someone forward into the dangerous world. Dark days are coming and though we are hesitant to interfere ourselves, we need a champion. You will be that champion. But you will learn to hate us first.’ And he was right. I did hate them.”

 

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