The Chaos Chronicles

I am writing this series, to continue the story of Lady Death and the entire Chaos Cosmos, from where Chaos Comics left off.
I have decided to re-write the first three issues of Lady Death: Dark Alliance in text form. This is partly so I can get an idea of about how long a single issue is in this form, and so other readers can know what's happening. Dark Alliance was a five-part series, but Chaos Comics only released the first three issues, and then they folded.
After that, I will complete the Dark Alliance story, based on hints and rumours given out over the internet by Pulido, Ostrander and Reis. And then I will continue with new stories that are all my own. Not just about Lady Death. I will try to write about all of the Chaos characters.
Although Lady Death and entire Chaos stable were struggling in the final days, I do not believe the stories or the characters were beyond repair. I still think they could have been great again. This project is my idea of how.

Lady Death
Dark Alliance
Part One: Rebirth

Eerie chanting echoed across the barren plain. A great monstrous horde gathered there, an army of demons and monsters, and they all chanted with a single voice. The horde was all that remained of the once mighty armies of Hell, and the plain lay within the heart of the Demon Nation.
The horde surrounded a giant pentagram inscribed into the blasted ground, a pentagram that burned with hellish fire. Several figures stood at each point of the pentagram, leading the horde in the fell invocation. A disfigured imp dressed like a medieval court jester, complete with bells in his hat, capered at one point of the pentagram. A terrifying and mighty centaur reared at another point, a creature that had the body of a demonic horse and the upper body of a man, and wore fearsome-looking armour. At the third point stood a regal but human-looking man, who showed no fear in the presence of the others, bare-chested as he was. At the fourth point, two beautiful and deadly women with horns on their heads also lent their lilting voices to the chant, their forked tongues flickering between their teeth. At the final point of the pentagram, a young man in a leather jacket also joined the chanting. Behind him towered a brutal thug with a tattooed chest and countless piercings across his face.
At the centre of the pentagram, within a burning pillar of flame, a final figure floated cross-legged in mid-air, reading from a foul mystical grimoire, leading the entire ritual with his powerful voice, his face hidden behind a silken veil. But his thin horns, pointed ears and green skin reveal his monstrous heritage.
For an entire day the demonic horde chanted, led by the powerful figures around the pentagram. Voices cracked and grew weary, yet the chanting never ceased, for the horde was eager to see the results of the spell. None of them knew its purpose, all they knew was that those leading the chant, those powerful surrounding the pentagram, were about to sacrifice their spirits, their eternal existence, to give power to the magic. All of them wished to see what invocation could be so powerful as to be worth the sacrifice of such powerful beings.
Suddenly, the figure at the centre of the pentagram ceased his chant. The figures around the pentagram also grew silent. Unaware that the invocation had come to an end, the horde continued chanting, repeating the mystic syllables again and again.
The pillar of flame at the heart of the pentagram surged up, grew larger. Hellfire raced along the lines of the pentagram and blasted into the figures surrounding it. Yet they did not burn, they simply embraced the flames and turned them back, concentrating the mystical power back into itself. The power continued to feed on itself, growing larger and more unstable, until finally it exploded.
An immense wave of hellfire rushed out from the pentagram and rolled over the gathered horde, incinerating them all. The demons screamed as their bodies were destroyed and their spirits consumed, drained away to power the great spell.
The fires of the pentagram surged into a single immense pillar of flame, which withed and twisted upon itself. Slowly, it formed a monstrous, vaguely humanoid shape. The fires slowly burned down, and as they did so, a figure appeared within their heart.
Eventually, the flames vanished. In their place stood a powerful, majestic, horrifying figure. His skin was red as blood and his muscles seemed forged of steel. Curved horns swept up from his skull, and within his eyes there was the glow of almost limitless power, unfathomable intelligence, and limitless evil.
As the terrible figure stepped out of the last burning embers, the spellcasters, who had thought they could control the ritual, slowly picked themselves up off the floor, still reeling from the blast of hellfire. They stared at the figure in awe, and fear.
The green-skinned figure who had led the entire ritual, flew up behind the enormous red-skinned creature. In a voice that held a slight but noticeable tremor, he spoke to the creature.
"Lord...master...Do you know us? Do you know yourself?"
The creature turned his gaze upon his questioner and grinned, showing fanged teeth.
"Yeeeeesss..." the creature rumbled, in a voice that resonated with ancient malice. "I am Lucifer. Oh yes, I know who I am."
The fallen archangel then watched as the other figures, the imp, the centaur, the three men and the two women, all staggered forward, and slowly knelt at his feet.
"And I know you," Lucifer continued, "my...mostly...loyal servants."
Lucifer then swept his gaze across the plain, across the field of ashes that was all that remained of the demonic army, and a slight hint of concern crossed his features.
"And this should be Hell. My domain. But Hell is gone. Hmmm. We shall have to give some thought to this."
Lucifer invited his servants to gather round, and allowed the two seductresses to drape their bodies under his mighty arms.
"No Kingdom, no followers, little to rule, to exploit to ravish." Lucifer spoke with little regret, only fierce ambition. "I have an idea to rectify that. Yes. I will have my due."
"One of the men, the bare-chested, regal-looking one, stepped forward. "And what about us, father?" he asked. "We who have served. What is our due?"
Lucifer stared at him, and an expression of pure rage appeared on his face. Swiftly, Lucifer lifted his arm and fired a blast of pure hellfire at his son, blasting his head from his shoulders. As his corpse fell in a pool of blood, Lucifer answered his question.
"To serve me further, and serve me better. I will rectify the mistakes of the past and you, Thanatos, were one of them."

Six months later, on a different plane of existence entirely, five men held a conference in a room that did not officially exist. Four of the men sat around a table, sipping strong black coffee, listening to the words of the fifth man as he stood in front of a bank of television screens.
The screens all showed images of the same man, a strong and wise- looking man, as he performed countless acts of compassion and mercy. He mediated peace between sworn enemies, performed miracles in front of cheering crowds, and gave sermons that encouraged an end to war and a life of peace.
The man in front of the screens was middle-aged, but still strong and fit, and he bore a long goatee on his chin. With a growling voice, he spoke to the other four.
"Since his first appearance four months ago, the man calling himself Neox – who some of his followers have called the new Messiah – and his organization – the Church Of Divine Ascension or CODA – have garnered millions of followers worldwide. His church has no ties with any previous established religion including Christianity, Hinduism, and Buddhism and we have learned nothing about his own personal background. He has achieved peace in the mideast and all his 'miracles' appear legit."
The speaker stared at the others intently, emphasizing his words with his eyes.
"I think he's the most dangerous man in the world today."
One of the other four, an old man wearing glasses and smoking a thin cigar, asked a simple question. "Why?"
"Because I've had a vision of Hell unleashed," came the reply. "Raw, red carnage unleashed on the streets. Children fried on burning spears. The armies of Hell unchecked. All tied to CODA. You and me, Mr. Molto – we don't share the same history I had with your predecessor. I know that. But Alexander Scott learned to trust my visions – and what happened when they were ignored!"
Mr. Molto was unimpressed. "Yes, yes, Mr. Gallows – I've heard all about you and your vaunted visions! I am not my predecessor and I regard your 'report' as just so much garbage. Thank you for wasting my time!"
Gallows glared at Mr. Molto, and at the other three, and saw only scepticism on their faces. Seeing no way to convince them, Gallows turned and stormed out of the room, muttering furiously to himself.
"Blind, stupid, and arrogant. And others will pay for it!"
Gallows left the secret conference behind and made his way out onto the streets of New York City. It was night and the streets were deserted in this part of town. Gallows headed for a street corner, where another figure leaned against a lamppost, waiting for him. This other figure would have appeared human, were it not for the fleshless skull in place of a face, which he usually hid under a wide-brimmed hat. His name was Bedlam, and his ability to cross time and space at will made him powerful, but left him isolated. Nevertheless, he and Gallows had struck up a friendship of sorts.
As Gallows approached, he gave vent to his anger. "I hate bureaucrats!"
Gallows passed the corner and continued stalking down the street, and Bedlam hurried to catch up. "Lemme guess, pard. Meeting went down exactly as I said it would. Next step?"
Gallows turned to face him, unperturbed by Bedlam's monstrous visage. "Plan B. We start gathering the ones I also saw in the vision – the ones I didn't tell Molto about. I already got my first recruit snooping around over at the CODA runaway shelter downtown. Don't know if you know her. She's a part-time actress, part-time assassin, all-the-time vampire, going by the name of Chastity."

Meanwhile, in the cellars below that very same shelter currently being discussed by Gallows and Bedlam, a leather-clad red headed woman rifled through numerous filing cabinets, searching quickly for the information she sought. Finally, pulling up a certain file, she grinned as she apparently found what she was looking for.
Engrossed in her reading, she didn't hear the door open behind her, and only spun around when she heard a female voice call out her name in surprise.
"Chastity?!"
Chastity saw a teenage girl in a thin nightshirt standing in the doorway, and her eyes widened with recognition.
"Sarah Wilson?! What are you doing here, girl?! Where's your brother and your uncle? Last time I saw you and Lady Death...!"
Sarah turned away, hiding her face, but her reply was filled with rage and despair.
"I remember. Tommy and Uncle Ralph were still alive. You and I and Lady D had gone clothes shopping. She was mortal, not sure of who she was, decided she needed a new look. Decided I needed one too. We came back to find Uncle Ralph and Tommy dead! They'd been killed by a woman named Morgana who was hunting Lady D! She made Lady D kneel before her while she drank my brother's soul! I...went crazy. I attacked her and Lady D...she hit me! I knew nothing else until I woke up later at Sanctuary – that old abandoned church Lady D uses. It was really weird! The old stained glass windows in the Sanctuary were changed and the images in them moved! Lady D herself was changed. She seemed, well, less human. And there were these two really strange guys talking to her! One was big and brutal and the other was like a gnome or something!"
Lost in her memories, Sarah Wilson saw again the abandoned church called Sanctuary. She again saw the strange images within the stained-glass windows – images of other worlds and strange realities. She again saw the tall woman, dressed in black leather, marked with golden skulls, and with a long black cloak streaming out behind her. The woman's skin was as white as a corpse, and her hair was also pure white. On one hand she bore a steel gauntlet. Her eyes were pupilless, and though she was incredibly beautiful, her features were cold and utterly inhuman.
By her shoulder stood a tall, brutal man with muscles like oaken trunks. His skin was scarred in countless places, and he wore a brown leather hood over his features. In front of her, a small man with pointed ears and green skin wiped his hands on a cloth, with an expression of satisfaction on his face.
The little man spoke. "Well, m'lady – we got some dimensional interfaces patched into the window frames. Reaper created a rift we can make our own use of. Images will come at random unless you put your mind to it. Put some of your power behind it and they'll act like portals. Let you and whoever you want come back and forth between here and your fortress at Winterhaven or wherever."
The white-skinned lady glanced at the images in the window frames, then gazed imperiously down at the small figure. "Excellent work, Brock!" she spoke in a voice that was as cold and lifeless as the grave. "You, too, Cremator!"
Sarah remembered sitting up, and calling out in shock. "Lady D?!"
The woman Sarah once knew as Lady D looked at her, then slowly walked over towards where she lay on one of the pews. As she approached, she spoke in that cold voice of hers.
"Yes. Don't be afraid. This is my true form. I'm sorry I had to strike you. It was necessary for your own protection – and to vanquish Morgana. She's gone."
Sarah remembered standing up, walking forward, and screaming into her face.
"What about my brother?! What about Tommy?! You let him die?!"
"If I could have prevented it, I would have," the lady replied without emotion. "Once the deed was done, it could not be undone. You must accept this."
"No!" Sarah had replied, backing away from the being who had once been her friend. "I could have saved him! I did it before! Oh, why did I ever meet you?!" Sarah had turned and run out of the church, screaming in despair. "I don't ever want to see you again!"
Sarah blinked away the memories, bringing herself back to the present. She gazed at Chastity with empty eyes, as she completed her story. "I couldn't go back to the apartment. Uncle Ralph had been murdered there! I wandered the streets. It was so cold and dark...! I heard about this place so I came here...Looking for a place to be safe..."
Chastity suddenly took hold of Sarah's arm and ran past her out of the room. "Sweetie, you've come to the wrong place," Chastity told her, pulling her along up the stairs. "C'mon. You'll stay with me until we sort things out! But we're leaving now!"

At the same time, on a rooftop high above, the white-skinned being known as Lady Death gazed down at the rear entrance to the shelter, her cloak fluttering in the night-time breeze. Beside her was a presence that few in this world could even see. The presence appeared to her as a black man wearing a leather jacket over a suit and tie.
Lady Death spoke to the presence. "You're certain this is where Sarah Wilson came, Virgil Solomon?"
"Yeah," the ghost of Virgil Solomon replied. "Sometimes, being a ghost makes it easier to snoop around and I still have all my detective skills. She's there, alright. Look, I've learned a lot recently about making things right with those you care about. Sarah feels betrayed and used. You know how you feel about that. Talk to the girl."
"And do what? Apologize? I am not in the habit of asking forgiveness of anyone!"
Suddenly, Lady Death sniffed the air. "Hold! I smell a Hellspawn!"
She gazed down at the courtyard below, and saw a man furtively sneaking into the rear entrance of the CODA shelter. She glared in shock and fury.
"Pagan! In mortal guise?! What is the meaning of this?!"
Without hesitation, Lady Death dove off the roof, using her sorcery to control her flight. "Sarah must wait," she murmured to herself as she chased after the disappearing Pagan.
On the rooftop, the ghost of Virgil glared down after her. Easier to fight than apologize, isn't it? he thought to himself. Ahhh, I'm out of here! Virgil allowed his presence to fade from the rooftop, disappearing from all sight.
Lady Death opened the back door of the shelter, her thoughts churning with hate as she headed inside. The pestilent little rat went this way...
Suddenly, she was struck down behind by a terrific blow. Caught off guard, she fell to her knees. Shaking her head to clear away the dizziness, she looks up, to see a capering imp dressed like a hellish court jester. Between them stands a hulking figure, his bare chest covered with hideous tattoos and his face studded with piercings. In one mighty fist he holds a leather whip, while the other fist burns with hellfire.
The imp laughs at her. "Well look who's here. Lady Dope!" Pagan points at the tattooed hulk. "Hiya toots! Meet Slaughterhouse – the new employee. Slaughterhouse, this is Lady Death, kill her."
Slaughterhouse marches towards her with a snarl. "Gladly – If I can do it with pain. I like pain."
Lady Death rises up to meet him. "You don't know what pain is – yet."
Slaughterhouse throws his burning fist forward with inhuman speed, and Lady Death, surprised at the ferocity, is caught again and sent staggering backwards from a punch to jaw. Slaughterhouse roars at her. "This is pain, bitch!"
Lady Death does not fall, however. She holds up her arms and cries out. "Apocalypse! Scynister! To me!"
Her hands begin to glow as her weapons start to appear. However, before the summoning can be completed, Slaughterhouse uncoils his whip and snaps it forward, ensnaring Lady Death's right arm in its cord and ruining the spell. As the energy in her right hand dissipates, Slaughterhouse mocks her. "Heard tell your wrist was broken. Was it this one?"
Though prevented from summoning a weapon into her right hand, her other weapon, Scynister, appeared in her left hand. It appeared as a golden sickle, but with a thought, she magically extended a length of golden chain between the blade and the hilt. She snapped the blade back, slicing through Slaughterhouse's whip and catching him across the jaw in the process. As the brute reeled, Lady Death howled in rage.
"Enough of this! Pagan, why do you walk the Earth pretending to be mortal?! What do you seek to conceal?!"
Pagan grinned at her mockingly from the back of the room. "Hmmmmm. I suppose I could tell you – since you'll soon be dead. Nahhh. You can die like you lived – an ignorant slut. Toodle-loo, toots!"
With a flash of hellfire and brimstone, the cackling imp disappeared.
As Lady Death snapped her blade at Slaughterhouse again, the brute caught the chain in his bare hands and pulled her towards him with monstrous strength.
"Come closer, slut!" he leered at her. "I want to dance with you! I want your screams in my ear as I break you! I want...Oh, how I want you!"
Lady Death swung her fists at him, her hands glowing with mystical power. "If it is death you lust for, I will satisfy you!"
Slaughterhouse returned her punches, blow for blow.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he howled in a battle-frenzy. "No pity! No mercy! Let the blood flow and the good times roll, baby! Yaaaah!!!"