Chapter 21: DIAF, Part One
Master Pandemonium's surroundings remind him of Arcturus IV, where he once visited. Like that alien planet, Death Valley is also a desolate but wondrous place. Arcturus is desolate and wondrous because the alien Fortisquians, servants of the Beyonders, built a paradise there, but that paradise was lost into ruins. Death Valley is desolate and wondrous in part because nature made it so. However, at the moment, the desert is also wondrous because Dr. Strange has superimposed an Edenic garden over it. Of course, the garden actually exists on the astral plane, and the usual physical reality is but visible around it. But still, the whole scene is an extraordinary sight that conjures odd memories in Martin Preston's mind.
"If you do not mind, we shall begin our conversation," Dr. Strange seats himself at the patio table set-up in the green. Master Pandemonium and Clea have taken their seats already.
Pandemonium returns his thoughts to present times and present company. "Very well," the villain replies, "First order of business. Are you here to attempt capturing me?"
"At the moment, Clea and I would not dream of it. Over recent weeks, you have proven very hard to handle," the hero quips, "We would rather presently parley than skirmish."
Clea adds assurance, "Stephen and I suggested that we three powwow on the astral plane because we know that everyone's abilities are retarded here. Thus, no one can fight as well as he did in, let us say, Newark."
Martin recollects proudly, "Yes, we did have a good donnybrook in the Garden State."
"You have also combatted the Defenders well in Big Sky Country and the Big Apple," Dr. Strange sips tea in the desert, "All such conflicts have brought us to this fine garden in the Golden State."
"California has been good to me," Master Pandemonium reminisces, "I had a solid Hollywood career once. And, Los Angeles is also where I fought the West Coast Avengers well—more than once. Perhaps, California will be where I foil the Defenders as well."
"I doubt it," Strange sniffs, "However, our parties have battled to a certain stalemate, Martin."
Master Pandemonium scratches his chin, "Stephen, would you like a truce?"
"Yes, we actually would," Queen Clea surprises her guest, "We want your mischief to stop before many more innocents get hurt. We want your machinations to halt before they result in the future death of Iron Fist or anyone else."
"So, you do want a truce," The Master snorts, "Why would I agree to one?"
"Because, actually, the City of Angels has not always been good fortune for you," Dr. Strange rejoins.
"I lead a charmed life," the enchanted assures.
"You lead a cursed one," Clea corrects the demoniac.
"Mephisto captured, enthralled, and destroyed you in the City of Angels, Martin Preston," Dr. Strange reviews some history, "You have been a miserable creature and the Devil's plaything ever since."
Master Pandemonium does not reply. He purses his lips in a pout, for he must face certain truth. His dark eyes dart around taking in the scorching Death Valley landscape. He considers the Eden where he now sits. The damned man knows that he will not be resting here long before returning to an unforgiving desert of some sort. The desert could be the deadly wasteland surrounding him. The desert could be the lonely life of a transgressor. The desert could be the perdition of Mephisto's Hell. With a heavy heart, the hollow man wishes that he could remain in the garden and its ease.
Dr. Strange seems to read his mind, "Mr. Preston, I can save you. But, you must now make a deal with Clea and I, two Disciples of Order. You must abandon your deleterious works and seek the peace."
Martin sighs, "You know, I have regretted past sins. I regret making a deal with the Devil to become an abomination. I should have accepted my fate after driving drunk and crashing. I regret the agony that I have caused Scarlet Witch over the years, and I even admitted that to her sons Wiccan and Speed once [see Young Avengers Presents #3]. Part of me even regrets tormenting Tigra over time and putting Shooting Star through hell."
"Very well," Clea hands Martin mellifluous nectar from a nearby Elysian lotus. Martin Preston takes the cup.
Stephen Strange raises his own, "Let us toast the peace that we shall now agree to have. And, let us plan your possible emancipation from Mephisto, Mr. Preston."
"That would be a miracle," Master Pandemonium ponders, "But, success is not guaranteed."
Dr. Strange nods, "Indeed, the Devil even confidently walks this desert currently. This valley of death offers him souls to steal and great opportunities for the world's ruination. However, other heroes and I have always defended against. . . . ."
Into the west, Mephisto ogles his prey while Cobra looks over his own. In occidental Death Valley, the Prince of Treachery trails behind Prof. Hamilton Slade and Mr. Klaus Voorhees as the trio trek through languishing heat over stark land under an unrelenting sun. Appropriately, Avarice has disguised himself as Dollar Bill, the documentarian filming the expedition.
Ahead of the Beast, King Cobra assesses when to strike. He has been following Prof. Slade ever since meeting the man in Newark. During their flight, archaeologist Slade had mentioned some field research that he was doing west of Las Vegas. In Death Valley, there sits an abandoned Avengers laboratory that Dr. Hank Pym used for awhile. One day, Ultron attacked Pym there, and the West Coast Avengers had a battle (see West Coast Avengers #89-91). The place has been deserted ever since. However, Dr. Slade understands that certain artifacts were left behind. He claims that the Avengers have entrusted him to catalogue the lab's contents so that SHIELD can remove Pym's parlous possessions later. For example, there is a certain amount of adamantium remaining at the facility. No one wants that stuff to fall into the wrong hands. Except thief Cobra. He intends to steal and sell the stuff after bushwhacking fool Slade.
Of course, Hamilton Slade craftily leads Cobra into a trap. The Phantom Rider has known since Newark with whom he travels. In reality, the facility likely has no treasures. In all likelihood, the Avengers removed any contraband a long time ago. The lawbringer intends to merely offer an ass a carrot on a stick, enervate his enemy in the unmerciful heat, and then apprehend him like a good Ranger.
Slade leads on into the distorted air ahead. Badwater Basin is a hell of a place. Intermittently, it offers smoldering white salt flats and baking brown earth for the burning trio to traverse. Before them, craggy Telescope Peak rises, but it provides neither shade nor comfort.
Dollar Bill comments, "If it gets much hotter, I don't know what I'll do." Aaron English quotes a novel about man's nature, greed, and foolishness.
Through Bill's shades, Mephisto eyes the hero and villain before him, and he snickers. Each man thinks that he suffers in hellacious heat in a lifeless land, but neither has any idea into what living Hell that their companion will deliver them. Satan snickers some more, for each "mighty" man thinks himself invincible. Phantom Rider thinks that he can pass through any danger like the Spirit of the Night Winds. Cobra thinks that he can worm, wriggle, and writhe his way out of anything. After all, the King Cobra has faced the god Thor and lived.
The Devil will not tolerate such pride exceeding his own. He must punish these mortals and bring them low. Ever high on his power, Mephisto must amuse himself by besmirching and bullying "lesser" beings.
Bill commands his two leaders, "Stop! I have something to tell you."
"Oh? What have you got?" Hamilton kindly queries his aide.
"What I have to tell you is that I have something to show you," answers Aaron English.
Klaus Voorhees swipes sweat, "Well, get on with it. It's awfully hot out."
Beaming English dallies, "Actually, I have two things to show and tell."
"F***ing tell us!" Cobra snaps.
Incognito Mephisto outstretches his arms, "I give you—Lake Manly!"
In his left hand, Aaron holds his canteen. To his companions' surprise and consternation, Dollar Bill dumps the precious water to the last drop onto the desert dirt.
Slade's mouth droops, "Prof. English, I believe that you have had too much sun. You should not waste water so."
Bill's mouth sneers diabolically, "But, Prof. Slade, I only wish to swim in Lake Manly as I did in my youth."
"I seriously doubt that you swam in Lake Manly. Lake Manly is the name for the prehistoric sea that evaporated to form Death Valley," the archaeologist answers, "You are hiking across the lake instead of paddling. Perhaps, it is only your head that is swimming."
"I am hiking," Aaron acknowledges, "We are hiking. And, we only have eight more miles in one hundred Fahrenheit until we make the cool air-conditioned confines of an Avengers outpost."
"Not that you'll make Pym's place," interjects ruffian Klaus. He expects the strawberry blonde's brain to fully bake long before reaching the base of the Panamint Range.
Evil English counters, "Oh, I'll make Pym's old place, but you two won't. Alas, besides Lake Manly, I have something else to show you."
"What is it?" Hamilton Slade grows increasingly concerned. The incognito hero compassionately approaches his apparently heat-exhausted comrade. He has water.
"Two catostomidae in the mere," the creature continues.
"Catostomidae are sucker fish," Voorhees voices, "I used to be an assistant to a biologist."
"I know, Cobra," Mephisto muses, "I was there when I tempted you into becoming a serpent."
"How the hell do you know who I am?" Cobra spits, "And, how do you know my origin of gaining amazing powers after being bitten by an irradiated cobra?"
"Because I'm a snake myself," the Hell-Lord hisses. His companions' canteens explode, scalding them with steam. Mephisto ogles the two like two boiled fish in a barrel.
In an instant, Hamilton Slade transforms into the Phantom Rider. The spectral sheriff stands akimbo and stares down his adversary. Possessed Bill smiles back. Between them, Klaus Voorhees snarls in pain. He supposes that he is going to kill Bill. Snapping his fingers, playful Mephisto conjures Cobra's costume over Klaus' person. The Devil loves to provide a murderer his means, and motive.
King Cobra aims a deadly dart gun, "Explain yourself before I execute you. For example, which old enemy of mine sent you? Are you Dr. Druid sent by the Avengers to protect their property? Are you an Asgardian sent by Thor? Are you Mysterio sent by Daredevil? Are you a HYDRA 'serpent' sent by Viper? Are you someone sent by the Mongoose? "
"I have already explained," Dollar Bill speaks in a deep, dolor voice, "You are two sucker fish. Phantom Rider thought that he could sucker you King Cobra and that he could capture a criminal. You criminal Klaus Voorhees thought that he could sucker Prof. Hamilton Slade and steal from an innocent. But, I, Dollar Bill's doppelganger, have suckered you both."
Phantom Rider aims dual six-shooters, "Yeah well, there's a sucker killed every minute when the Son of the Spirits is 'round."
"And, there's usually a road to hell paved when heroes have good intentions," the Prince of Darkness retorts, "Let me illuminate while I eliminate."
Scyllan tentacles spring from the broiling firmament. They snag their prey and slam them to the salty silt. They pin them like crucified trout baking on the ground. With a fury, the Phantom Rider addresses his motions to freeing himself. Using his unheralded flexibility, King Cobra pursues the same. But, the brimstone bonds stick to the two exceptional beings. Try as he might, Cobra cannot contort himself free. Try as he might, Phantom Rider cannot simply phase his captured carcass from the kraken cords. Both conquered characters struggle in fear and amazement. Their amazed eyes grow bigger when they see Mephisto—in his true terrible form—standing over them. Contradictorily, a shiver runs down their spines as their backs blister on the plain's salt pan. Against the setting infernal sun, the crooked god stands smiling wickedly in the shimmering, searing, distorting air.
The torrid wind steals Cobra's breath and parches his tongue. It desiccates Cobra like a fish mummifying in daylight. Old Arnold Voorhees gasps for gas. Then, the Lord of the Lower Depths waves his hand, and the salty earth sucks the sinner into the valley's dry bowels. Buried alive, the miscreant should die miserably of suffocation.
Phantom Rider exhales, and he strains against his unbreakable bonds. Impossibly, the unforgiving wind slowly kills a ghost like a sucker stuck under the sun on Lake Manly's shores. Over the dying spirit, Lucifer looms leering in the blazing luminosity. Unexpectedly, Legion lofts his cape and kindly blots out the sun's rays, but the Dark One does not cast this shadow out of kindness. Satan has greater than Sol's cruelty in mind for the captive hero.
Mephisto declares, "Hamilton Slade, you are a fool for defying me."
"I'm a white hat. It's what I do," Phantom Rider defies Mephisto.
"You are a fool for seeing yourself a hero, Hamilton," Mephisto tells the ensnared, "You are a Slade, and you are always one misstep away from becoming great-great-grandfather Lincoln, the deviant."
"I ain't that reprobate!" the Rider's glowing orbs challenge Mephisto's burning own.
"You are a Slade," the Friend reiterates, "And, you are always one moment of wrath away from being legendary killer Carter. You are always one heinous act away from becoming your brutal brood Jaime—may God judge the dearly departed harshly."
"Departed? Did you call her 'departed'? My daughter is not departed," Phantom Rider wrestles his tentacle ties, "The other Phantom Rider might be a ghost, but she is no goner. My child's alive! You lie!"
"I'm the ultimate black hat. It's what I do," Satan spits sizzling saliva, "However, in this case, I do not deceive. Your child is cremains. Master Pandemonium made her so."
In his chest, the Phantom Rider suddenly senses the death like a cutting bullet. In his skull, the truth imprints like a hot brand. By his occult abilities, the Haunted Horseman knows that his dear daughter is indeed dead. The Spirit of the Winds howls and thrashes like the Zephyr. The Ghost Rider screams and burns for vengeance like Zarathos. He shakes the earth telekinetically with his tumultuous mind. The bereft father summons his six-guns and fires them furiously into the empty air again and again.
In a blink, Mephisto summons another unnatural tentacle from the arid earth. The enchanted arm chokes the angry ethereal apparition into silence. Mephisto simply says, "I have good news. Master Pandemonium soon comes this way."
"Vengeance," Phantom Rider sibilates, though he is trying to scream. He makes a fist that Mephisto notices.
"Normally, I would allow you to solve your problems with violence, superhero, and to take one step closer to Hell," the Adversary assures, "However, I have a better torment in mind. Howabout you die a painfully death without getting your revenge? You can become wormfood while witnessing Master Pandemonium continuing to live his damned life."
Phantom Rider wonders what the devil the Devil means. Then, grotesque grubs, great in size, burst from beneath the soil. The seventeen-inch slimy, slithering slugs swarm over the stretched shade and sink their teeth into him, sucking his blood. They brutally burrow into his body. He screams. From below, the lethal lifeforms pullulate upon Death Valley.
From above, a huge red-tailed hawk, a native Death Valley predator, appears. It dives. Like nails, its talons drive into the fettered phantastic flesh flat before it. Avian awls rip the Rider's cheeks bloodily wide open as the hero stoically stifles his whimpers. His face's raptor stares him down, and he shockingly sees its humanoid eyes glaring into his own. The Son of the Spirits gasps as the attacker turns to his worm-riddled chest. Phantom Rider realizes that the attacker must be Azmodeus returned once more.
Swift talons unmercifully slice flesh from Slade's ribs. The raptor rips free a dangling morsel and gulps it. The hawk grows four feet. Azmodeus stands tall and heavy on the Ranger's collapsing chest. The fire fades from the Phantom's lucent being, and Hamilton Slade is as bound Prometheus was without his borrowed fire. Azmodeus and the writhing maggots simultaneously screech in victory. Then, Azomodeus snaps his maw shut, and he hurls his hawkish head downward. His prow punctures Prof. Slade's paunch and rips out Phantom Rider's liver as a punitive eagle once punished a titan, and champion of the people.
Mephisto gazes and giggles. Gleefully, he anticipates the next chaos and suffering that he will perpetuate. The two Defenders and Master Pandemonium will arrive soon, and Mephisto anticipates picking on them as Azmodeus presently picks-on the Ranger.
Anon, an unnaturally cooling wind blasts over the desert into Mephisto's smirking visage. Creature's cape cracks in the gust. Grinning, Mephisto greets his three expected enemies with open, outstretched arms. However, he gets a surprise party, of more than twice the number, instead. Six Defenders and an evil sorcerer appear from thin air. Around Mephisto, stand the heroes Dr. Strange, Clea, another Defender, Iron Fist, Misty Knight, Colleen Wing, and their temporary ally Master Pandemonium. At them all, Mephisto just keeps grinning, for the extra guests are no trouble. Always trouble himself, the Devil hardly has idle hands.