Marvel/DC: Dark Allies #6

Written by WarlorTVor and Anomaly, Edited by WarlorTVor
Published by the Cosmic Powers Fan Fiction Group in

Characters are the properties of Marvel Comics
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Dark Allies

Note:  This part of Dark Allies continues from Dark Allies #5.  Dark Allies takes place after Shards of Destiny, now running in issues of Cosmic Powers Unlimited.  Read past editions of it at the Marvel/DC Cosmic Crossovers Archive.

Chapter Six
And the Ashes of the World Shall Wash Over Them . . .
. . . And They Will Be Given New Hope!

Doctor Doom was shell-shocked, he quickly shook off the feeling, and the world came back into focus, once again; he slowly arose from the floor where he had slowly sledded down from, after slamming back first against the pillar.

“You! Bitch!” Mephisto cursed, the back of his hand slamming against Doom’s mother’s check, she was sent spiraling toward the ground, her cloak whipping around her slender, elegantly well-rounded body. Her limp body slammed against the cold stone alters that lead to the massive golden church that was placed against the back wall of the sanctuary. “How dare you!” Then the events that had been so blurred moments earlier came into focus.

Mephisto had mentioned that his mother’s newer physical form had the abilities to tap into the core of the mystic realm, so in order for him to be pondering such musings she had to have intervened right before the blast would have struck him! He watched as Mephisto gave off a few more profanities, and once again backhand Doom’s savor. And he wasn’t about to let him get away with that!

“Don’t you dare call her that, Mephisto!” Doom commanded energy crackling from his fingertips lancing forward in Mephisto’s direction. The concentrated energy beams made contact, slamming harshly against Mephisto’s chest, Doom continued the blast’s full power as he made it up the several stares toward the alter. “I will stop you, Mephisto!”

The Dark Lord laughed violently, the beams were making contact but they were not doing the immortal any harm whatsoever, he was completely unfazed by the onslaught of energy that would have for surely butchered another lesser man. “I think not, Doom!”

With a wave of his hand Mephisto sent Doom soaring through the air, and slamming through another stone built wall that had been loosened during the angel’s conflict, the stones gave way and he found himself in another chamber. It had the clear smell of rotting flesh and decaying bodies, something small and furry ran about and around his boots. His head jerks down only to see a small rat running all over the chamber, blood covered his coat of hair. Doom kicked the little beast away from him and started to survey his surroundings only to find even more mutilated bodies. Some in worse condition than the poor handmaiden and they were all stacked one on top of the other, forming on alter of blood and death.

A massive, blinding flash of light shined in the small side chamber for a moment then vanished as if it never had appeared. A groan of pain and anguish filled his ears, the cry was clearly female in origin and he knew instinctively that it was that of his mother.

Enraged, Doom charged forth, from the chamber’s walls toward the alter only to be stopped by a horrific sight, his mother laid there, her body stretched out a thick whisk of dark smoke arose from her bosom. Her body was unmoving, and was not taking any breath into her.


He feared the worst had happened.

With no regard to personal safety whatsoever, Doom dashed toward her mother’s aide. Flaming debris threatened to stop his path, but he’d merely pushed it aside and continued as if nothing had happened at all. He lunged forth, over a massive collection of flaming beams that had once supported the roof overhead, but had recently given way, his armored shoulder slammed against the stone carved floor and tucked himself into a roll in order to avoid, being caught up in the flame’s menacing wrath.  Once he came out of the roll and onto one knee, he bolted to his feet and continued to this manifestation of his long dead mother.

He soon arrived there, only a few feet away from her side and just then Mephisto manifested himself before him in a blast of fire, sending Doctor Doom spiraling backward. Out of an instinctive impulse to protect himself, his gauntleted hands blocked his metallic visage, the flames subsided and there the Dark Lord stood, a dark sadistic smile painted his triangular red face.

“To hell with you!” Doom cried out, his fast moved with lightening fast movements, sending a blow that would have surely killed a lesser being with no trouble at all. But Mephisto was too quick, his reflexes took control and clutched onto Doom’s massive hand, as if he was able to predict the monarch’s every move even before he thinks them.

“You first,” Mephisto smiled, crushing the hand within his quick moving hand. Another hand lanced forth and clutched onto the monarch’s throat, and slowly, with a relish of enjoyment, the Dark Lord of Lies crushed the life out of his prize. “I shall truly enjoy tormenting that traitorous bitch’s soul and having you watch every moment of it . . . knowing that you nor the soon to die Strange can do nothing to stop me!”

Strange’s stern gaze fell upon Zauriel and his loosing battle with a million upon millions of Spawn that was festering all around him. His grip on the majestic flaming sword had loosen and descended earthward along time ago, his fist were trying to ward off the foul demons, to no avail. They numbers increased one by one, tearing him apart and festering upon the remains, he allowed a scream to roar from his lungs, but no sound came out or at least if it did it was drowned out by the sound of the screaming of the beast around him.

No more shall the innocent parish! Strange mused enraged. “By R’charai’s Dark Flame guide my hands, as I embark on the holiest of wars!” he said and soared earthward, beams of green and golden mystical energy lanced forth striking creature after creature destroying them from the inside out. With each blast that made contact another fire seed of R’charai’s Dark Flame was implanted in their vary soul, soon they exploded, leaving a wake of blood and flying flesh into the air.

Blast after blast left a massive trail of death as Doctor Strange made a dark trail of death toward his winged companion, who was still battling for life in the center of the festering hell hole that had taken hold around him.

With moments of work, and a long trail of Khtullis bodies left in his wake, moments that seemed much like an eternity within itself for both the sorcerer supreme and the fallen angel, Strange finally freed Zauriel from the dark hideous clutches of the minions that had been given life at the expensive of poor Latverians, who hadn’t a chance to life. The Spawn that had not been destroyed by coming into contact with the mystical beams of concentrated energy, screamed out and slithered quickly into the labyrinth of stone walls that made up the massive church that stood proudly over the ledge of a massive cliff, down below the waters crashed upon the shore jagged shorelines. The angel was crouched into a corner, blood gushing from every area of his body, his golden armor that had been forged by the vary hand of God himself was battered and torn to shreds in several areas where the Khtullis Spawn had torn away at. His wings were badly distorted, and his breathing was erratic to say the least.

Zauriel moved his mouth as to say something, but not a word escaped his thin lips. He was badly battered, his wounds were extensive, if Strange would have been delayed by even a second then it is quite plausible that the angel who had been his savor in the Latverian Time Square, hours earlier. But not even this powerful angel stood a chance against these odds. Strange crouched down before the fallen angel, his hands waving within the air as faint words, which Zauriel could not comprehend left Strange’s lips. And soon a layer of golden white light descend upon his battered and broken body and his wounds started to heal up upon themselves, the pain was still ever person but strength was seeping into his vary being with each passing moment that the light had its hold on him. His breathing slowed and was soon under control, just as the golden white light subsided.

“Thank . . . you . . . Friend . . . Strange . . .” the fallen angel hushed in-between massive lung fulls of air.

“Any time, Friend Zauriel,” Strange crisply replied.  

“Glad . . . to have you . . . back . . . in the action . . .” he rasped, out of breath.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Strange gave off a half-cocky smirk, and winked his right blue eye at the angel’s direction. His gaze shifted from the semi-healed angel toward the monarch of Latveria, he was being suspend over the ground by Mephisto’s hand, which was entangled around his armored neck. “Doom needs our help! Let’s . . .”

His words were drowned out as the another flaming portal erupted before them and tentacles slithered outward once again. The sight was all to familiar to both of them by now, and once again Strange felt as if he had just dropped out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire.

“Not again . . .” Zauriel hushed, reaching for his flaming sword, and bringing it up, wryly. “This . . . just isn’t my . . . lifetime, is . . . it?”

Strange stood there, realizing that all was lost, they had a chance, but it was a desperate one needless to say. But if they were to die at least the threat of Khtullis would die with them, and humanity – including the rest of the cosmos – would at least survive, and endure well beyond their deaths. But there were no spells to safe them this time, for the sorcerer supreme was out of sorcery, and he knew when and where he needed heavenly intervention. Which was now for sure.

Doctor Strange closed his eyes, and slowly started to rise from the floorboards below. His heartbeat was steady and sure. And his words had a dangerous undertone dripping from them, as if they were full of venom, he said, “You are my last hope. The last hope of all of us. I have approached you in times past, and you have refused to help, even though I have added you many a time in the past. A being such as yourself is above notions of gratitude. But I am not! Whatever you can do . . . if anything . . . please . . . grant me this one thing . . . before it is too damn late!" 

And in a massive wave of wind and rain, as if the hand of God, Himself, had descend from the heavens and had unleashed its vengeful wrath against the bastardized place that had once been his house, the church dramatically started to collapse all around them all.

Doctor Doom’s vision began to cloud around the edges greatly, and blur in the center area, a the life slowly dwindled from his body. Every time Doom thought that he could merely escape Mephisto would only reassert his hand's monstrous, and unbelievable grip.

Mephisto’s laughter echoed throughout the church, with no end. He was truly enjoying watching the demises of a long time foe, especially at his own hands. The Dark Lord of Lies opened his mouth to say something, to give off one final taunting phrase before banishing Victor von Doom’s soul to his realm where he will be tormented for all eternity. But instead it was more like a grunt of pain; his back jerked quickly, his head jetted skyward, as unbelievable amounts of pain surged through his body all at once.

The pain caused him to lose his grip on the monarch who collapsed to his knees on the ground gasping for air, air that refused to come. Soon his vision returned and his head jerked to what he had thought – and he was sure Mephisto did as well – to be the lifeless husk of his mother.

She had propped her wounded body upon a slab of bedrock, blood covered her cloak, and that blood slowly left a trail tracing back where she had started to crawl on her stomach to get to. Her hands were extended and violent bolts of mystical lightening lashed forth from her fingertips; every beam struck Mephisto in some area of monster’s body.

Mephisto released a blood-curdling scream, and he realized the grave error in his ways. He had made the soul of Doom’s mother too powerful, so powerful that it was on par – if not greater – to that of his own. His head whirled back to see the events unfolding back there, and released another scream, not of pain, but a scream of defeat for Doctor Strange was still alive! Somehow, someone must have released the good doctor’s mystical spirit from the Cosmic Cube that was his prison.

Then he watched as the burning church around him started to crumble by the sheer onslaught of wind and rain, which was pushing the once scared place over the cliff edge’s. The ground under his feet started to churn and release, suddenly it was tearing itself apart.

With an uncontrollable rage he bellowed a scream. “I will not be denied, Doom! This is not over! I will prevail next we meet!” he roared as he vanished from reality in a whisk of flames and smoke.

Without a word Doctor Victor von Doom quickly ran to his mother’s side, Mephisto soon became a thing in the past, and was pushed to the darkest reaches of his mind, for there will be plenty enough time to deal with the Dark Lord later.

“Mother!” he bellowed reaching forward to clutch onto her hand, the slab of bedrock that she had pressed herself against was breaking lose and slowly starting to release toward the icy cold waters that churned and raged below the cliff which the church had been founded upon.

Her body was unmoving, with the exception of her chest slowly rising and falling rhythmically but even her breathing was shallow, her gaze was glazed over, as she rolled onto her back mumbling things over and over again. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do it . . . Victor . . . He made me . . . do horrible . . .things. I wanted . . . to resist . . . but I was strong . . . enough I wasn’t good enough! Please . . .” her gaze then quickly shifted toward the monarch who had once cradled her dying body within his young arms many a year ago, but could not due to the distance between them. “Please forgive me, my son . . .”

Doctor Doom bolted forward. Even when his booted foot was caught on a slab of rock and he fell toward the ground that was churning and rumbling demanding to be released he did not stop, he would not stop for anything or anyone. On his knees toward this manifestation of his mother, his hand jetted forward once he came upon a massive crevices that separated between the two, and was still tearing itself apart. His gauntleted hand was outstretched in the dying hope that in the final moments, before the slab of bedrock could break away and plummeted toward certain death that he could find away to save her. To no avail. It all happened in the slowest of motions, the slab of bedrock tearing apart, his mother’s deathly look burning into him as she started to descend earthward, everything, his heart beat was slowed and pounded violently in his ears. The rock gave way and his mother’s last and final words were focused souly and unselfishly on him, “I love you . . . my son . . .” Then with those few brief words said gravity took hold and the world blew by in a blur, of falling debris.

Doctor Doom hadn’t a chance to say or do anything for the area of rock that he had kneeled upon started to give way as well. And with little to no emotion at all he watched as he plummeted earthward in a dazzling speeds. Death awaited him, and even though he wanted to fight her, there was nothing he could do but watch and wait for her.

Dark Visions

Doctor Victor von Doom watched his death play out moments prior to it happening with morbid humor involved. He saw himself dropping the rest of the way earthward, not a sound escaping from his lips, then in a splash of water and jagged rock collide headlong into the churning ice cold waters below. Then if he survived the fall, the massive pieces of debris behind him would surely kill him with the utmost ease, and the world would grow black and that would be the end of it.

So simple. It was ironic in a way, somehow. He’d braved the tribulations of the Onslaught, battle with just about every self-proclaimed “hero” in the cosmos and won in some kind of way every time. And his final defeat would come from falling from a church and dying from a free fall. He laugh slightly at that one, his body soon brook free of the slab that he had been clutching on for dear life, and he was calm as his final moments played out the way he had foresaw them mere moments earlier.

But for one brief moment the unexplainable happened. His gaze fell upon the canvas that is his Latveria of how he knew it. The night sky blanketed over the towering medieval style buildings, which jetted out of the forest much like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Then that all changed, before him. Latveria changed, before him. The skies themselves changed.

Doom looked on with fury and an unconfinable rage as he watched Latveria slip away from him. The sky turned from a dark backdrop to that of a hellish red, with gaseous dark purple looming in the night sky, giving off the effects that the sky was literal on fire. The once tower buildings that reached toward the heavens above were now nothing more than crumpled destruction of debris, ash and broken bodies, they served as nothing but mere monuments to the death and carnage that gripped Latveria. And through it all Doom caught a glimpse of his majestic castle, and was filled with hatred. Who dare do this to Doctor Doom! His mind screamed out, his gaze never wavering for a moment, from the destruction that was left in the wake of some unknown and unbeknownst battle of some sort. The castle that had once towered over all of Latveria had crumpled, fallen victim to whatever had destroyed all of Latveria, melting flesh and unburied bodies were everywhere. The scent of death inflamed his nostrils. A thick green and purple ooze covered everything, the scanners in his helmet informed him that it was some kind of necro-toxification, a compound that he had never heard before.

And just as soon as it was there the image was gone.

Latveria was as it was prior to the dark image that greeted him in a wake of hatred and fear. Nothing had changed, the sky was normal, the buildings were not in ruin nor show any signs of decay, and his scanners was not finding a signal trace of necro-toxification signatures as it did when the image of a dead Latveria was upon him.

He sighed in relieve and turned his attention back toward the churning waters, the entire incident happened in less than a fraction of a nanosecond in time. His green cape whipped around him, as the dark winds pounded against his metallic form. He closed his eyes, and the words of a familiar voice boomed in his head. “You have not completed your destiny, for it lies not in time to come but time that had already passed, my son.” The voice said, and in an outburst of white golden light Doctor Doom vanished from his free fall earthward.

Doctor Doom appeared before both Doctor Stephen Strange and the battered angel Zauriel. They stood in a massive field of golden wheat that stretched forth as far as the eye could possibly see. Far off in the distance, overseeing all of Latveria stood the massive medieval style castle that belonged to the country’s monarch. A gentle breeze washed over them, caressing their skin soothingly, loving. It was nothing like what had happened to the church that had once stood proudly on the cliff and had withstood the testament of time now laid in waste and rubble.

“Doom!” Strange exclaimed, in unbelievable shock, a faint smile touched his thin lips.

“What happened to you, Doctor?” Zauriel asked his voice returning back to its normal baritone tambour. “We saw you and your mother . . .”

With a curt wave of Doom’s hand the angel fell completely and utterly silent.  “I am here, Zauriel,” Doom said, disdain dripping from every word as if it was venom. “And let us leave it at that. Shall we?” Doom’s gaze shifted from Strange to Zauriel and back again. None of them said a signal word, for there were no words to be said at that moment. Doom nodded, a gustier that the was completely oblivious to Zauriel he took it as one who was in charge would do once a command of his was followed out, but Strange knew that it was one of relying his thanks, as it was meant to be.

A moment of silence manifested between the trio. They merely stared at each other the storms that had started to rage during the final conflict were now subsiding, the dark clouds were retreating as dawn nearly, cautiously approached.

Without a further word, Doctor Doom started to make his way through the field of wheat that would lead to Latveria. Reconstruction must take place, there, for he was sure that not all the citizens of Latveria had been slaughtered in by the Khtullis cult, and he needed to start rebuilding the remaining shards and pieces of their former lives. He was leaving behind Strange and Zauriel behind in the midst of the field.

And it was finally the battered angel who spoke, disrupting the silence that had settled upon them, Doom was still in earshot of his words. “It ends,” he said, his gaze staring forward toward the twisted remains of the church.

Doom, who was about a good several feet away from them, stopped. His head lowered earthward for a moment or two in reflection. His vision glazed over as he thought about past events that had just transpired, his mother who must have been in her death throws saving him from immediate death, Mephisto’s vow for vengeance against him, and Strange. Once his reflection ended, his gaze fell upon Strange and the angel from their twin universe, and with a flash of lightening that was serving as the herald of his dark thick words, he uttered only two words.

“It begins.”

The Beginning . . .

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