Boston

May 2020

Andy Barclay approached the brownstone house, having tracked his target there. It had been six months since the defeat of Freddy Krueger, and in the aftermath of the battle, Nick Fury offered him a position as a black ops agent for SHIELD. Seeing as his personal business in Hell's Kitchen was destroyed Andy accepted, where he took on assignments involving the supernatural. These last few nights had been exhausting, however, as Barclay was running on little sleep while trying to capture a serial killer dubbed as "The Headsman". After tugging on his SHIELD jumpsuit, which featured a cracked and darkened eagle emblem, Andy activated his earpiece.

"Director Fury, I found where our executioner is." Andy told Nick. "He's holed up in a brownstone on the North end in Boston."

"Copy, Agent Barclay." Fury's voice boomed through the other end. "Shall I send some backup?"

"Negative, I should be able to handle this." Andy said casually, pulling out a glock and kicked the door down. After peering inside and noticing the home was pitch black, Andy turned on an emergency flashlight, and began exploring the Headsman's house. Barclay swept through the ground floor, and once he found a cellar, he headed down the stairs, loading his pistol and turning the safety off. The stairs were old, rickety, and each step Andy took, they creaked and groaned under his weight. Thankfully, none of the steps broke, and Barclay stepped onto the hard dirt floor without any trouble. Andy then turned his flashlight back on, and nearly gasped in shock, seeing half a dozen disembodied heads laying on a table at the far end of the room. Most were stuffed onto spikes, while others were horribly mutilated.

"Holy shit." Andy gasped, and as if acting on instinct, he heard a near silent breathing behind him, and ducked in the nick of time, hearing a blade swipe at air. Andy rolled forward, looking behind him to see the Headsman himself, ready to murder his next victim.

"Jesus." Barclay murmured, sizing the serial killer up. The Headsman wore regular farmhand clothes, with a burlap sack over his head, with only the eyeholes showing cold, dead eyes. In his hands was a gigantic battle axe, which was, unfortunately, not just for show.

The Headsman growled, swinging the axe towards Andy, who narrowly jumped backwards out of the way. Andy put enough distance between himself and the killer and began emptying his gun's clip into the monster, but it just kept coming. Once it was finally in swinging distance, the Headsman swiped his axe in a wide arc, attempting to cut through Barclay's midsection. Andy knew he couldn't dodge the attack, so he grabbed onto the shaft as it swung, and became entangled in a macabre tug of war. Soon enough, Andy realized he wouldn't win by brute strength, and he lashed out with his leg, kicking the Headsman in the groin. The executioner grunted in pain, but loosened his grip on the axe. Seeing his chance, Andy ripped the battle axe away from his foe, and in one swift motion, he swung the axe so hard, he cut off the Headsman's head in a clean swipe. The Headsman's body instantly crumpled to the floor, while the hooded head rolled across the floor.

"Nick, it's over." Andy said into his earpiece. "The Headsman serial killer is dead. Boston is safe for now."

"Great job, Agent Barclay." Fury complimented. "Get some rest. You've earned it."

"Copy that, sir." Andy smirked, before shutting off his communicator and leaving the brownstone. On the way out, Barclay didn't notice a raven as black as night watching him, before flying away.

Arkham, Massachusetts

The raven flew towards a small town South of Boston, where it flew into an open window of a gray house, momentarily startling a man with a long face and wearing a suit and tie. Not long after the raven flew in did it change into the form of a man.

"What happened, Poe?" The man with the long face asked eagerly.

"Your pathetic creation was destroyed." Poe muttered bitterly. "You did not think big enough."

"What?" The man asked, shocked. "But what I created with this-" The man gestured to the black book with the raven lock. "-It is the best I have ever done!"

"Then it is a waste of your talent." Poe snapped. "You failed me, Lovecraft. And I do not tolerate failure."

"Edgar, listen-" Lovecraft begged, but was quickly interrupted.

"SILENCE!" Edgar Allan Poe roared, and as if there was an invisible force, Lovecraft could no longer speak. After regaining his composure, Poe continued. "I brought you back to life because I thought you could instill the world with terror again. But you failed me. And I don't do second chances anymore." With that, Edgar walked over and opened the midnight colored book, and a black shroud erupted from the pages, taking the form of rats that scurried towards Lovecraft. For his part, HP Lovecraft was paralyzed on the spot, and only began moving once the rats began feasting on his flesh. The former horror author screamed and writhed in agony, as his flesh and insides were slowly eaten from the inside out. Poe simply smiled grimly, and left the room, holding the book in tow. By the time the rats finished feeding off of Lovecraft's body, all that was left were bloody bones and cloth, leaving the corpse unrecognizable.

Bangor, Maine

Edgar Allan Poe used his supernatural powers to teleport towards an estate in Maine, appearing right at the front door. After pausing for a moment to take a look at the exterior of the mansion, Poe sharply rapped his knuckles against the door, and several minutes later, the door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and glasses.

"I told you reporters, my new book won't be out for another month-" The man stopped, seeing Poe. "Oh God. You're-"

"Yes." Edgar interrupted, and presented the book. "And I know you, Stephen King. I have looked at your works, and even if they are not my, per say, cup of tea, I must say that I am impressed. I have seen you create worlds in your stories, King. How would you like to change this one?"

"How do you mean?" Stephen asked, confused. To that, Poe handed him the book, and at the same time, he teleported the two back to his own home in Baltimore.

"I created this tome to manipulate realities." Poe explained. "Simply open it and imagine something, it can be made so."

"Oh God, I can see everything!" King said, as he opened the book and black shrouds escaped from the pages. "I can see all the universes, the multiverses!"

"Reality is in your hands, Stephen." Poe reminded the author. "Just remember: Think big." With that, Poe transformed back into a raven and flew away, while King began to reshape reality as he thought it should be.