Issue 10

Ashes to Ashes...

The storm had come.

Rain fell. Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed.

"David. Wilhelm. Respond."

Nothing.

"Microchip. Corspeman. Are you out there?"

More silence. He ground his teeth together, eyes as dark as the sky overhead.

"-rank? Frank you son of a bitch where are you?!"

The Punisher exhaled slowly, the tenseness in his shoulders fleeing. "David. What's going on?"

"Something akin to 28 Days Later! We're holed up in the hotel. Corpseman's covering the approach, but I don't know how much ammo he's got left!" his friend shouted, and he could just make out the cracks that the stranger's laser rifle made in place of gunshots. Air ionising, or something like that.

"Roger. On my way," Castle replied, pushing down harder on the accelerator. The SUV he had managed to steal from the SHIELD agents roared as it tore down the street, ripping up the puddles rapidly forming into pools as the rain continued to fall.

"Alright, Castle's on his way!" Microchip called from beneath the bed. As hiding spaces went, it was pitiful, but it was the best he had on hand. Wilhelm on the other hand was by the door, foot braced against the other bed he had forced up against it to form a barricade. The pounding of fists and hisses of anger on the other side left little to the imagination as to what the mob intended to do to them.

Wilhelm had taken to slashing at any hands that moved to reach him through the ruins of the door. He seemed unfazed by their blooded state, splinters wedged deep into the flesh as they ripped the door apart, fingernails tearing off as they scratched at him in a frenzy. His long coat was splashed with blood, and Lieberman was forced to admit that the cold methodical way the other man did his work truly earned him his chosen moniker.

Corpseman.

There would be nought but corpses left in his wake. He himself was more corpse than man.

David felt a lump in his throat which he swallowed. Working with the Punisher had jaded him to casual brutality, though at least when it came to Frank it was always only through a screen – he never bothered taking him along on his missions, knowing that Microchip was at his best at a computer. David wished that was where he was right now – back in his lair, at his computer. It would make watching what was happening easier.

Then he heard it. Over the sounds of the rain hammering against the broken window of their room. Over the cries of pain and rage of the people outside. Over the blade whistling through the air and cleaving through flesh.

The sound of an engine. A rich, throaty roar.

The screech of tires.

David closed his eyes and smiled in relief. It was going to be alright. The Punisher was here.

The rain fell, and it did not touch him. His cloak billowed out behind him, his own little cloud in defiance of the tempest above. Steven Strange stroked his beard as he eyes the vehicle pull to a stop, it's driver leaping out with firearms in hand.

A brave man. A broken man.

He had taken to studying all those SHIELD considered "of interest" in New York City. It was his city after all, and it paid to know those who dwelled in his domain who could be relied upon to act in certain ways. The Punisher was one of those who could easily be guided. The man walked a tightrope every day, simmering with rage and constantly trying to direct it in a way to cause the least harm to all.

It was easy to nudge him in the right direction now and then, and to offer him solace when he needed it most.

Never directly. Frank Castle was not a man who would ever ask for help, at least not without some truly exceptional circumstances. But Stephen Strange knew the restorative power of a good night's sleep, and made sure the man was not as plagued with nightmares as he should have been. Once he would have abhorred meddling in such a manner. But he was a doctor, and it was his duty to care for those who needed help, whether they realised it or not. And dreams...dreams held such power. Such hope.

If not for the sight of his wife and child during the nights, Frank Castle would have been swallowed by the darkness he stood amidst.

Still, subtlety was of no use here and now.

The Sorcerer Supreme floated down to the ground, his footfalls drowned by the sound of rain as he made his way to the rundown hotel. He paid no mind to the SUV, it's headlights still blazing in the dark, as he approached the front door, already smashed aside by the Punisher's swift entrance.

He paused just as he was about to cross the threshold. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Miss Bertha, you can come out now," he shouted over his shoulder towards the car. There was a pause, and then the back door of the SUV swung open and a woman ducked out, her hands trembling even as she held a laptop against her chest with one, and a pistol in the other.

She wasn't pointing it at him though, so that was good. Then again, SHIELD agents knew better than to antagonise him. Sorcerers operated on a level of reality far beyond that which they could comprehend. Still, they were useful allies when they knew not to get in the way.

"Well, come along," the Sorcerer Supreme stated and resumed making his way to where his path would cross that of the Punisher and his friend. Further proof that his gentle interference had helped. Frank Castle was not a man to have friends, even though they were necessary in many cases. The fact that he had been so focused on coming to his aid he hadn't even noticed the woman hiding behind him proved that Strange's manipulations had yielded fruit.

Frank Castle had someone he actually relied on and looked out for. It was a small thing, but it was enough to stop the man from carelessly throwing his life away. The doctor smiled as he began to climb the stairs, heedless of the questions the SHIELD agent was directing at him.

Mobs were never a pretty sight. The remains of one were even less palpable. Their somewhat abhuman nature did nothing to lessen the horror of the sight. Castle grimaced as he carefully stepped around the various dead bodies, nudging the half-broken door open with his boot. The body of an overweight man lay on top of it, leaking blood down the cheap wood. Inside the room, Microchip sat in a corner, a gun resting in his hands. The man was shivering as the adrenaline still coursed through his blood.

As for the Corpseman…

He was leaning against the modest desk, wiping down his blade with what Castle was pretty sure was a shirt pilfered from one of the dead. His breathing was steady, as if it was just another day. Maybe for him it was. It was…inhuman, in a way. Castle made his way past the soldier, who didn't even look up from his diligent cleaning, and crouched down by Lieberman.

"Hey, David," Frank Castle started, raising an eyebrow as he looked over his friend. "You look like shit."

That earned him a slight grin. "Well you…smell like it," the pudgy New Yorker countered.

Castle shook his head. Well David at least had his wits about him. He didn't seem to be injured either – the lack of complaints regarding blood and pain were a tell-tale clue. "Any injuries?" he still asked, a semblance of his old life in the army prompting him.

"N-none. Just…wound up," Lieberman replied, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. His face was still flushed, and his hands were trembling, though he was slowly exerting some emasure of control over himself. "T-that was…probably the most shitty thing I have ever been through."

Frank snorted and shook his head.

"Gentlemen," said a cultured voice behind him.

The Punisher's hand flew to his holstered pistol as he turned, drawing the gun and raising it in one fluid motion. Microchip's eyes went wide. The Corpseman shot to his feet, his grip on his weapon immeidatly shifting from holding to firing it. Red bolts of energy flew at the figure in the ruined doorway, only to freeze in the air, hovering inches away from the stranger's outstretched hand, the fingers curled into a weird gesture none of the three could place.

"Ah, my apologies for startling you," the robed man said, having the grace to look momentarily embarrassed at his misstep. "I am Doctor Strange, and I require your assistance."

"Strange?" the Punisher grunted, his eyes narrowing. He had a working knowledge of most of the supers operating out of New York City, but details regarding the good Doctor were sparse. He was known to operate on a power level comparable to that of the Avengers, and to mostly keep to himself. Many of the criminals in the city made sure to stay clear of his domain in Greenwich Village. As such, there was little to draw the Punisher there, and so they had never truly crossed paths.

Microchip on the other hand, spent most of his time on the internet and had heard a lot more about the so-called "Sorcerer Supreme". That he was only allied with SHIELD and the Avengers, not an actual member. That he dabbled in actual magic, as opposed to the weird super-advanced science the Asgard utilised. That he was often busy handling problems only he could handle. All in all, terrifying stuff.

As for Wilhelm, he just saw a psyker. A witch. A practitioner of sorcery, fit only for extermination. He wanted to pull the trigger on his lasgun again, but he knew it to be folly. The mutant before him could kill him with nary a thought, and there was nothing he could do to purge its foul presence. He lowered his weapon, glaring in contempt at the warp-touched creature before him. To keep attacking would just motivate it to kill everyone present.

But...

But what if he was sanctioned? What if he was their best bet at combating whatever warp based trickery infested this place? Wilhelm had served in the Guard through many campaigns, and knew when foul warp sorcery was around. He could feel it in his very soul, quavering at being forced to remain in anything resembling proximity to such heresy. A feeling directed at the town itself.

Not the figure before him.

He would withhold his judgement for now.

"Correct. You may have heard of me. You may have not. In either case, it doesn't matter. What matters is why we are all here," the Sorcerer Supreme stated. "For the innocent," the man said, nodding at Castle and Lieberman. "For the guilty," he continued, glancing over his shoulder as Bertha peered around the edge of the doorway. "And…I do not know who you are or why you're here," he finished with a frown towards the masked figure with the laser weapon, "but since you are here with the Punisher, I'll assume it's for the same reason and move on."

The Corpseman did not respond.

"Alright. Miss Bertha, please contact your associates, I have no wish to explain myself twice."

"Ah, right!" the SHIELD agent replied, still somewhat taken aback at having being addressed by one of what SHIELD classified as the most powerful supers in the world.

They were jogging down the road, bedraggled and soaked, when Natsumii's phone rang. Roberts shot her a glance as she fished it out of a pocket without slowing down. "Natsumii," she answered automatically.

"Boss! It's Bertha!"

Obviously. It was her voice. "What's your status?"

"Uhm…I'm alright. Currently in that motel we passed near the centre of town."

"Is the Punisher present?" Had he dumped her there after stealing their car? Or had he simply not realized the woman had been in the rear seats? The SHIELD agent's mind whirred at the possibilities as she continued to move down the roadside with Roberts. They could make out vague lights in the distance, dimly visible through the curtain of rain.

"Oh – yes but-"

"Stay out of sight. Do not engage. We will be there in-" she glanced at Roberts who grimaced and increased his pace to a light run, "-ten minutes or so."

"Uhm…boss. Strange is here."

"What?"

"Doctor Strange. He's here and says he knows what's going on."

Well. That made things oh so much worse. She slowed down, and Roberts ran ahead a few steps before noticing. He slowed his pace to match hers again, a look of annoyance flashing across his face before he could help it. Hundreds of questions filled Natsumii's mind, each one discarded as quickly as it occurred to her. If Strange was here, then the whole situation was a lot more major than they had thought, and much more time critical.

Summoning aid was out. The storm had played havoc with their communications, and if assistance could be brought in, the good Doctor would have already called it in. Or…whatever it was he did when he wanted help. No one was exactly sure what that was though.

"…understood. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Or you could be here now," the cultured voice of the magician stated as a golden circle spun into existence before them. Roberts halted in shock at the magic before him, whilst Natsumii merely paused long enough to confirm that it was the Doctor and Bertha on the other end of the portal before moving through.

Roberts' jaw snapped shut and he hurried after her, the look on his face akin to what one would make if they bit into a lemon. This whole mess had officially spiralled out of control. They were down one agent, an Alpha level super had shown up, and they'd wasted enough resources that he was going to be filling out forms in triplicate for the next week. At least it would take him off active duty, he thought sourly as he shook off the water on his coat as the golden portal snapped shut behind him.

"What happened here?!" Natsumii demanded, her eyes sweeping the bloody floor and piled bodies before falling upon her reason for being in Innsmouth. "You three!" What did you do?!" This kind of massacre was…alright, it was pretty much in line with the Punisher's standard MO, but the targets weren't.

The vigilante's eyes narrowed. "I did nothing. I was busy trading bullets with you, remember?" he replied, standing up and focusing on the sorcerer in their midst. "So, what's going on here?"

"No. You do NOT get to gloss over a civilian massacre like this," the woman snarled, reaching for her weapon. The Punisher's hand leapt to his own pistol, and the Corpseman's laser rifle swung up to point in her direction.

Doctor Strange sighed as he looked to the equally exasperated Roberts. The other man could only shrug helplessly before the Sorcerer muttered a few words and flexed his fingers in five precise ways. And just like that, everyone in the room found themselves rooted in the spot, their bodies frozen in place.

"Now, let us have no unpleasantness. I will be requiring all of you to assist me, so please try to pay attention," Strange stated, clapping his hands together and stepping in between the SHIELD agent and the vigilantes. He turned on the spot, letting his gaze sweep over everyone gathered by the tangled webs of fate in this place, at this time. His eyes lingered on the masked man known as the Corpseman before he spoke again. "You have all come her as a result of one event – the breaching of the ward placed around the planet by the Sorcerers of Old to prevent any inter-dimensional incursions."

It was far more complicated than that, but he was dealing with the uninitiated here. Small words only.

"This breach was a minor event, but sets a dangerous precedent. Now, I am here to investigate this matter and ascertain the nature of what caused it. Going by what brought Mr Castle and his compatriots here however, I feel confident in labelling this entity/force as inimical to local life." He had their attention, he could tell. The woman who had hid in the car, Bertha, was typing away on her laptop. The sole male SHIELD agent seemed confused, but that was a typical reaction whenever someone was suddenly exposed to magic. The rest of the gathered party lacked the freedom to react for the moment.

Bertha had opened her mouth to ask the obvious question, so he answered it before she wasted her breath. "Mr Castle and his team came to this town in pursuit of several missing persons," the Doctor explained with a nod of approval towards the vigilantes. A measured show of support to signify to the SHIELD agents to back down. A reaffirmation of the Punisher's desire to do good, even if his methods were questionable. Bertha closed her mouth.

Sometimes, being a superhero was very much like being a stage magician. A carefully constructed act to make people believe, if only for a moment, even if they knew better. In this case, that the Sorcerer Supreme was in control of the situation.

"I believe these abductions may be tied to what is occurring here. The storm is a physical manifestation of the roiling energies that were harnessed to momentarily overwhelm the ward. Something has come through."

Roberts snorted at that despite himself. The Doctor's eyes swung around to focus on him. The SHIELD agent shook his head to avoid meeting the other man's gaze. "And you what, need our help? What, need us to shout encouragement from the side-lines?" Not that that would have been a problem per say – side-lines tended to be safe whenever supers were in the field. Somewhat. Not as safe as not being in the same city, but safer than being in the midst of a confrontation for sure. And if Doctor Strange was taking to the field…yeah, Roberts was willing to bet good money nothing was going to be left of Innsmouth by the time morning came.

"Not quite. I intend to find this anomaly in our reality and keep it contained. Meanwhile, I require you all to track down the site of the ritual that conjured it in the first place, and disrupt it." Delegation was a wonderful thing. Besides, if someone in this town had summoned a servitor of Cthon, it was best for him to focus on battling that, and leave the ritual interference to the uninitiated. For all their skills, the people gathered around would be unable to do anything to a mystical foe.

The man named Roberts shook his head. "And that will…what? Solve our problems?"

"Yes," Doctor Strange replied, frowning at having to state the obvious. He turned back to the people frozen in place. "Now, behave," he said, raising a finger as if he were a parent scolding his children. A simply psychological trick, playing upon the pavlovian behaviours buried deep in the subconscious. And with that he dropped the paralysis spell, making sure to snap his fingers at the same time for that little touch of theatricality.

They slumped, exactly like puppets without strings, before catching themselves and reasserting control over their own limbs. He could see the anger, calling for them to act, and how it was buried under the recognition of their situation. Frank Castle had even managed to avoid drawing his weapon, though his hand had twitched towards it out of reflex. No doubt he had realized what had happened to those he had travelled here to save. Strange nodded in response to the question in his eyes.

Frank Castle closed his eyes, no doubt burying the memory of this failure for the moment. But when those eyes opened again, it wasn't the father and the husband who looked back. It was the Punisher.

"Fine," the vigilante ground out.

"Good. Now, all of you, come with me," the Sorcerer Supreme ordered, turning away and floating over the bodies littering the entranceway and down the corridor. "From the aetheric winds, I believe the site of the ritual is near the centre of the town. Someplace spacious, like a hall or a parking lot," he continued, drifting down the stairs.

"What about a hall or a store?" the woman named Natsumii asked as the others follow him. Their grievances had been effectively laid to rest for the moment. When someone like Doctor Strange asked for your help, you damn well gave it. That was just common sense and SHIELD policy after the organisation had found itself a step behind in handling the myriad of threats that cropped up in the wake of supers and their actions.

"Those are also fitting suggestions. Anything that could host a large basement of equal floor size to those should also be investigated," Doctor Strange explained, letting his feet hit the floor of the motel, looking over his shoulder to make sure everyone was following him. Honestly, so many people would just wander off without provocation if not carefully attended. Med students. SHIELD agents. Civilians. "When you find the ritual site, make sure to maintain a safe distance when disturbing the circle," he advised, stepping out the front door into the chilly night. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness beyond before sighing. "And do make haste."

"Huh?" asked Bertha, glancing up from her laptop as the group stopped at the motel's threshold.

Ssssorcerrrrer...

"Oh."

Standing some fifteen feet away from them was Joules. Or at least what remained of him. Because Bertha seriously doubted what she was seeing was her co-worker. Not with the chunk of his face between his eye sockets missing, and a sickly pulsing green-tinged gem hammered into the void like the misshapen pupil of a black eye. She could hear Natsumii hiss at the sight, even as the bile rose in her throat.

The figure's clothing was ragged and torn, split apart by the grotesquely swollen muscles beneath. Dark splotches of colour gave what skin was visible an almost scaled appearance, and ethereal wings of roiling smoke pulsed behind them.

Commme aaaand let us sssspeaak- the creature hissed into their minds, working the lips of the body to mimic speech. At least before a bright beam of energy hit it in the chest, burning a hole in the ruin of the suit jacket and forcing the thing to take a step back.

Doctor Strange bit back another sigh as he turned to the masked man who had come here with the Punisher. There went their best chance of learning what this thing wanted. "Was that necessary?"

"Suffer not the alien, the heretic, nor daemon," the Corpseman quoted back, firing his laser rifle again as the creature recovered and tried to speak again.

"Look, stop that," the Sorcerer stated in exasperation. This was a mystical foe, shielded against such simple things as physical attacks. "And don't even think about joining in," he warned the SHIELD agents with a look. "You have your parts to play in this, as I have mine. Now go," he waved them off with a hand towards the heart of the settlement. "I shall handle this."

Sssorcerer Supppremmme… the creature growled in their minds, it's baleful eye focused on the magician.

Doctor Strange strode forwards several steps before speaking again. "Yes, I am the Sorcerer Supreme," he said in way of introduction. He added a little bow for politeness sakes. "And you are the herald of Cthon, are you not?"

The lips of the dead man facing him stretched in an alien approximation of a smile. The esoteric energies playing upon his form pulled too hard though and tore the cheeks somewhat to convey the impression of a wide grin. The Doctor flinched at the display. Possession was…not something he had encountered yet. Not like this. This wasn't some corrupting influence, like what had taken Kaecilius. This was a new soul forced into a vessel poorly suited for it.

Doctor Strange had hardly been a religious man, but he still found himself sending a wish to any higher power listening that the soul of what used to be the man before him had gone somewhere free of the agony that had to be registering throughout the body.

I…bee. Herrald and stewardd. Mmaster of the N'Garai the entity answered, it's speech slowly growing clearer as it assimilated the knowledge left as electrical impulses in the SHIELD agent's brain.

But that last bit was what Doctor Strange had been waiting for. Cthon, an elder…deity, for lack of a better term, had many servants and agents. However, only one ruled supreme over the N'garai, one of the two races made in the fell god's honour.

"Kierrok," the magician breathed.