JLU 2001 Fanfiction - JLA in JLU 2001 PRESENTS #8

The Tower of Fate
Salem, Mass
Four Months ago…

    The Tower of Fate resides in what is known as ‘The Nexus of Subtle Realms’. It is an extra-dimensional quandary that overlaps the many variants of both time and space. However, to those that have heard of the Tower, it is but the earthly anchor they know of. The anchor is a brown brick faced building that stands neigh of fifteen feet in height, and scarcely ten feet in width, in the middle of a small field outside of the City of Salem, Massachusetts.   The rectangular slab has almost no features to speak of, save for the traditional ruffle pattern at the top. To most people who happen on the doorless and windowless monument in the middle of the overgrown field, they wonder if the place used to house a mini golf course.

    However in the mystic arts, looks are always deceiving, for the simple, if not strangely bland building gives way to a living space that is infinite in its space. That is if one knows how to enter a building without doors. That key is reserved for a very small group of people. But should you get inside, you would see hallways and stairs running backwards, forwards, upwards, downwards, diagonally and in many ways there are not words to describe. M.C. Escher once tried to translate the Tower of Fate, in a pen and ink drawing called ‘Context and Concave’ but he failed miserably.

    Hector Hall, was one of the few people, living or dead, who knew how to navigate the infinite spaces, of the Tower—even without the help of Nabu. However he hadn’t traveled it very often since his wife’s apparent death* and the destruction of Nabu the Wise**. With a good fraction of the mystical energies of Doctor Fate gone, he was not the Master of the Mystic Arts as he had once been.   And without the constant nagging of Nabu in his mind, he could properly face the death of his wife, and let his new life settle upon his reincarnated soul.

[*Lyta and Hector currently aren’t aware the other is alive – JLUPresents #1]
[**As seen in JLA 25-28]

    Hector sat in the darkened study he had been living in for the last three months. His long arms clothed in the blue spandex were folded over each other on the old oak table that was presented in front of him. Countless candles were clustered at the furthest corners of dark wooden surface. In the center of the table the battered and broken, golden helm sat. Hector’s worn reflection staring back at him like a reminder that he was as broken as the helm.

    His lack of sleep, and sustenance made his features look as though he had aged twenty years. His eyes were dim and blood shot, and deep bags puffed from under the rims of those sore blue eyes. The crease marks that gently webbed down his high cheek bones and from the corners of his nose seemed to stand out all the more in the candle lit room. But what made him look the oldest was the full beard that had taken over the bottom of his face, the silvery plume of growth ran to a single tip resting on the golden Cloak of Destiny.

    “We’ve been through a lot,” Hector’s dry voice croaked. He lifted one of his hands from the table and fingered through his over grown silver hair. “What are you doing, Hector, no matter how many times you speak, Nabu is not coming back. He’s not answering you, because he’s not here. Face it, you’re by yourself. You don’t have Nabu and you don’t have Lyta.”

    “WHERE IS YOUR GOD!” Nabu screamed, as Hector Hall’s mind fell back to an earlier time. A time a few months ago, when Nabu had taken over his body and had gone on a rampage. The amped up power had Doctor Fate, not only battling his friends, but battling the collective might of the JLA and JSA, along with the Spectre, and a virtual Who’s Who among the Meta-heroes of Earth and beyond.

    The Spectre’s green and white body was driven hard into the ground. The ghastly emerald hood had fallen loose from the white dome of his skull. His large hands clasped against Nabu’s assaulting fist. The sensation of the power Nabu controlled felt warm. The hatred and vengeance flooding his senses like chocolate. “WHY HAS HE FORSAKEN YOU?” Nabu screamed, the eye slits of the Helm exploding with orange flames.

    The pale and hairless face of Hal Jordan turned his masked face towards the golden helmet. Despite being the entity of Vengeance and being beyond the moral compass, his expression twisted and looked shocked. “He has not… Lord of Chaos!” the Spectre spoke his voice booming like trumpets. “HIS ROD AND STAFF-“

    Hector Hall tried to forcefully cut himself from the memories. He took a deep breath. Despite knowing that Nabu had been corrupted by the Elder God of Chaos, Hector Hall remembered it all. As though it wasn’t Nabu controlling his body, nor was it Ct’Hll causing the damage and violence. It was him. And all the havoc that was caused was all on his shoulders. Hector often wondered how it would have turned out if only he was stronger. If only he could have stopped the onslaught. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have been stripped of his responsibility. And now there was no true guardian of realities. He hadn’t the strength to right Order, and Chaos was ready to move in and send all of existence into an age of magic, the world would not survive.

    It was over with just the right nudge from Negative Woman. Nabu had traded places with the Spectre, he had found himself on his own knees.   The golden helmet covered skull looked deep into the white gaze of the Angel Zauriel who hefted his blazing word above his shoulders.   The Flames of the Sword illuminated the gray skin of the Warrior of the Eagle Host. Nabu couldn’t move his head for his neck was palmed by the Spectre’s cold grasp. He could only watch as the dreaded heavenly sword cleaved the Helm of Nabu in twain. Hector Hall’s memories echoed a dreadful scream that sounded like hundreds of high-pitched squeaks all in unison. The sound was enough to render someone insane.

    The Two halves of the helm spread apart falling on either side of the host. Zauriel’s gaze fell on two golden melons that lay lifeless, and battered. The mystical identity of Doctor Fate had lost all shine and brilliance, now just dead husks.

    Hector Hall sighed as he looked at the two halves of the helm, which sat before him. “You’re still out there, aren’t you Nabu?” Hector spoke. There was silence.

    Then Hector’s eyes grew three sizes.

    The left portion of the Helm began to vibrate, a greenish outline formed across the jagged edges of the half of the mystic helmet. And then the shaking paused for a heartbeat.

    Then the left portion of the Helm of Nabu shattered like glass...

in
Shard One: The Lost Children

An HEIR of FATE Event

JLU: 2001
PRESENTS #8 - Featuring:
Sentinel in 'Heir of Fate'

by Jae Lizhini

    Wildcat stood on the ledge of a flat warehouse’s roof. His black combat boots were splattered with white snow. The wind whipped around his dark blue mask, the unbuckled straps clanking against each other as the wind took them with every gale. The boxer looked on with a steady gaze into the sky above him where a fight was going on, set to the back drop of Chicago’s skyline, that was now fifteen miles or so away. The warehouse district was a better choice Sentinel had announced when the fight with Charaxes had started. Wildcat knew the man was right, but with a flying villain—he needed rooftops to remain in the fight. As it turned out, he had to watch from above.

    The sky above was a rolling gray muscle, stopping any light from the moon.   Charaxes paused from the battle his golden wings sputtering in a blur, as he took a deep swallow of air, his brownish coarse fur covered chest moved inward with each deep breath. He brought his clawed hands towards the two heroes who stood in front of him, the large red compound eyes watched them from his grotesque insect like head. The mandibles moved independently as he barred his razor sharp teeth hidden beneath.

    Sentinel stood stoic watching the villain, his muscled arms were folded across his chest, and the long green cape fluttered slightly blanketing his shoulders with its mass. Power Girl stood shoulder to shoulder with the Golden-Age Green Lantern. Unlike her partner she looked like an invisible arm was holding her back from attacking. Her back was bent inwards, cinching wrinkles across the white uniform, both fists clinched in tight balls.

    “You think I’m a light weight!” Charaxes buzzed his voice sounding like a swarm of fruit flies. “Only two of you, trying to stop me!”

    “There’s three of us!” Wildcat shouted from fifteen feet below.

    “One of us could handle you, Moth-Ball!” Power Girl glowered, her perfectly rounded face turning into a visage of anger. And without any further resistance she flew forwards, her red cape creating a blazing after trail as she removed the distance between herself and the villain.

    Charaxes lifted his head towards the speeding JSA member. His mouth elongated in a ghastly display of teeth and mandibles as a milky-white fluid sprayed from his throat. The secretion splashed across Power Girl’s arms and chest, hardening instantly.   Thick steam came from the milky white threads as the acidic touch of Charaxes’ cocoon threads burned at the heroine’s flesh.

    “You must have forgotten, Power Girl, I got a few surprises under my belt,” Charaxes buzzed the crimson gaze moving to Sentinel, who had lowered his arms from his chest. The blond haired Lantern looked at the villain who was formerly called Killer Moth, before Neuron had blessed him with a grotesque mutation.

    Sentinel raised his hand towards Charaxes, a small fire rising on his ring finger. “You’re still not worth our time,” the hero said as his eyes flared in an emerald fire.

    “So you ready to take me seriously now, Sentinel?” the villain buzzed almost giddily.

    “You are never taken seriously,” Sentinel informed the villain as two large gloved hands streamed from his green fire. The two emerald constructs zipped towards the villain in a sudden motion. The transparent arms grabbing the brown fur covered arms of the insect-human and roughly pulled them to his back. The energy steams of the hands quickly snaked around Charaxes’ shoulders and waist tying the villain in a knot.

    “What is this trickery!” Charaxes buzzed, his body wiggling in the grasp, his wings battering hard enough to cause Sentinel’s confident hovering position to sway in the sudden winds.

    “SHUT UP ALREADY!” Power Girl’s voice yelled from below. Her white and red form rushed from below the bonded villain nearing the speed of sound, only to come to a sudden stop inches from his face.   Her white costume had burn holes exposing large swaths of her still reddened skin. Parts of the cocoon were still hanging against her arms and from her nails.   “You are outclassed, mothball, once again,” she retorted pulling back her arm and slamming her balled fist to his awaiting face.

    The punch was delivered with an exoskeleton-crunching thud. The bird like face craned back on its shoulder, as a ton of pressure met the skull. Charaxes let out a groan as blood sprayed from the opened beak.

    “Good timing, Power Girl.” Sentinel said to her, as his wizened face turned to look to the closest thing to a Superwoman, the world had.

    “I’m sure you would have taken care of it, Sentinel,” Power Girl said with a grin.

    “WHAT ABOUT ME?” Wildcat screamed from below. “AM I EASILY FORGOTTEN?”

    Alan Scott and Karen Starr both leaned their heads down towards the rooftop where the blue costumed, Ted Grant stood with a frown. “YES!” they both said with laughter.

    “Alan Scott, you are needed.” A familiar voice spoke suddenly breaking the jovial moment of the trio of JSA members.

    Sentinel slowly turned his head around, his body following in a slower motion. His green eyes dimmed as he laid eyes on the cloaked figure who, like him, seemed not to be merely staying aloft, but as though he was standing on the air itself.

    The stranger that stood before him wore a fedora of the darkest blue tilted over his crown, casting dark ebbs of shadow over his forehead and eyes until coming to a quick stop at the tip of his nose. A long cape blanketed his broad shoulders with a long starched collar that extended well past his earlobes. Underneath the grand blue cloak, one could make out a matching vest and an all too white turtle neck shirt, that seemed to only match the white gloves that fitted over his large hands. Though of the entire outlandish costume, it was the golden pins that kept the cape positioned over his shoulders, and the large golden pendent the size of a plate that sat listlessly against his stomach, that truly set him apart.

    “Stranger,” Sentinel said, his usual confident and brassy voice degraded to a murmur. “What can the JSA do for you?”

    The Phantom Stranger always seemed old, it wasn’t just the outline of silver hair that his fedora sat atop that made him seem like an elder. It was his voice, his out dated mannerism, and his body language that moved slow and calculated when it needed to. This was why The Stranger’s sudden appearance had shocked him so. For the first time in many years, The Stranger seemed to be in a rush. He moved quickly and he seemed to speak in a rushed manner. Even in the crisis, he’d never seen The Stranger act so abruptly. Something serious had to be going on.

    “Not the Justice Society of America, Alan Scott. It is only you and the Starheart that is required,” The Phantom said, the stony gaze peering through the shadows, in a way that seemed impossible. “It is of a supernatural matter. Your duty as a Sentinel of Magic is required.”

    Sentinel turned first to Power Girl who stood there as stone still as Alan had. Wildcat below seemed a little agitated but he looked on. “We can handle this, Alan,” Wildcat said from below. “I’m sure whatever you’re needed for, is a bit more important than escorting a mosquito to Iron Heights.”

    “Just be careful, Alan,” Power Girl said. “Magic business or not, the JSA will come running if you need help.”

    “Thanks guys, but we don’t even know what this is about. Or do you all want me to leave that badly?” Alan said cracking a smile.

    “Then know, Alan Scott,” The Phantom Stranger said, his left hand rising from his hips as a white milky globe began to rise from his fingertips. The orb slowly escaped the gloved hand and floated to the Golden-Age Green Lantern. All three JSA members watched with attention as the white sphere approached Sentinel and splashed against his face.

    Alan Scott felt his mind wheel backwards, with a sudden intrusion of white light. Images and sounds began to assault his perception, ticking in a fast pattern, plaguing his skull. The images that came to his mind were violent and wrong. Bloody strewn bones littered in an underground cavern. Youthful screams of torture and pain. Finally the images began to slow down, and came to a stop. A single memory fell over his mind.

    An Hispanic mother and father stood silently at the edge of a depilated playground. The sand was dark with cans and candy wrappers littering the soft beige surface. Rusted swings softly swung empty in a high pitched squeal. Alan could see the tears streaming from the parent’s eyes, as they stared at the empty lot.

    Then the scene changed again, the same playground, a single Hispanic youth stood with a shadowed figure. His thin brown arm was being tugged through a dark forest by a shadowy form. The caramel eyes of the boy turned up to look at the shadowy form that continued to urge him on.

    Alan Scott felt a dry gulp rise in his throat as his vision showed the shadow’s face, tuffs of dark fur covered its bestial skull. Its eyes were large like saucers with a glow of red. Its large maw opened wide. A sick orifice, black lined with hundreds of sharp teeth, like yellowed shards of rock.

    “Jesus…” Alan Scott mouthed as his mind was returned to him. The Stranger stared through the shadows that covered half his face. His body was stiff and unmoving, searching the features of the veteran hero with a sense of an answer.

    “It is the power of just one shard of the Helm of Nabu,” The Stranger explained, in his ancient voice.

    Sentinel eyed The Phantom Stranger with a vexing look as his mind came to grips with what was being said. “The Helm of Nabu? Isn’t Nabu dead?” Sentinel asked. “The helm was cleaved in half and the halves are in possession of Doctor Fate.”

    “Something happened, something that not even the great entities of the mystic realm foresaw. One half of Nabu’s helm shattered, and the shards dispersed. We are not sure the meaning of such an event. Perhaps it was the last act of Nabu the Wise. Perhaps it was another power that caused this to happen.”

    Sentinel gave a slow nod. He remembered seeing Hector, as Doctor Fate, back to his old self during the events that returned Earth-2 to the universe*. Did Zard’s magic have something to do with all of this? Was there a conflict of energy between the two universes? Sentinel never had a good grasp on the precession of wild magic, the sort of magic that Doctor Fate controlled. But he owed it to Hector to see this to the end.

* [Hector Hall was seemingly back as Dr. Fate in JLA 39-41 & Outsiders vol 1 20-21]

    “I will do this,” Sentinel spoke, his gaze on the shadowed face of the Phantom Stranger. His thin lips were pursed tight into a single line. His stoic eyes in firm determination, as he made his decision. “Wildcat and Powergirl, you should also contact Flash, or Mister Terrific at the base. We need to check in on Hector Hall.”

    “You got it, Sentinel,” Powergirl said with a firm nod. “We’ll take care of it; you just watch your ass.”

    “Let’s do this, Stranger,” Sentinel said as he flew towards the Stranger. The blue cloaked man flung his arms wide. The blue cape flaring, showing its inner fabric, which was a black void with the white specks of stars—it looked like the man was carrying space in the folds of his cloak.

    “We go now,” The Phantom Stranger spoke as his cape grew in size wrapping himself and Sentinel in its fabric. The two heroes were cocooned in the elongating fabric. Before the eyes of Wildcat and Powergirl, the two forms blinked out of existence. It wasn’t a fanfare of gray smoke, nor was there some sort of mystic light. They just blinked out of the space they occupied.

    “So what are we worrying about Hector Hall for?” Wildcat asked, watching as Powergirl descended towards his position. Her red cape fluttered in a stark muscle above her blond hair.

    “I didn’t get it all, but something about Doctor Fate’s helmet shattering,” she said in a serious tone. Her usual aggressiveness towards Wildcat submerged for more serious matters. “But whatever is going on, we need to trust in Alan.”

    “And here I thought it was going to be a boring day,” Wildcat said with a grin.

Near Chihuahua, Mexico

    The thick heat was noticed instantly by Sentinel as he appeared over the small Mexican village. Next to him The Phantom Stranger floated. Despite the intense sun that bared its boiling heat on the brown and dry village below, the shadows that obfuscated the Stranger’s face seemed to have not been affected. If anything the dark ebbing of shadows seemed harsh and thicker. The ancient man in the full brimmed hat finally turned to the JSA-er and began to speak.

    “You have arrived,” he said in a matter of fact, sort of tone. It wasn’t so much as letting Sentinel know that he was in a new location, but the way his words curled, it was The Stranger’s way of telling him good luck. For, as soon as the words were spoken, he disappeared in between the blinking of an eye.

    Sentinel shrugged his broad shoulders with an impassive agitation. “So much for small talk,” the Golden Age Green Lantern said as he looked down at the scattering of tin roofs that gleamed in the hot sun. A green set of binoculars formed in his right hand as he began to look at the ground below. He wasn’t quite sure what he should be looking for. But it was apparent the moment his eyes found it.

    Below where he floated was a broad expanse of a clearing. It was a field of browning grass that lay at the foot of a steep rocky incline. Sentinel was surprised to see as he looked up the rugged bulbs of rock that extended in polygonal shapes followed by cracked and broken cliffs, that a cluster of deep green trees stood. The vegetation seemed to almost glow in contrast to the brown grasses, rock and dirt. He had no idea such beauty existed in The United States’ southern neighbor. Though he wasn’t there for sightseeing.

    Sentinel slowly descended to the field where a small group of Mexican citizen’s were being kept back by three uniformed police officers. They all wore the traditional black uniforms with golden badges pinned to their breasts. The dark-skinned officers focused on pushing back the citizens and pleading to the people in Spanish as the hero descended upon them. It wasn’t until his feet almost touched the dying grass that one of the officers turned his caramel eyes towards the American Super-Hero.

    “Hola, Green Lantern,” the officer said in slow Spanish. Unlike the three men who surrounded her, she kept her hands at her side, not pushing people back from the large incline. She wore the black blazer of a sheriff with a white dress shirt underneath. Her full lips put a grand smile on her face, show casing brilliantly white teeth. “El Thetia contestar muy rapido,” she announced to the hero as she stepped from the mob and walked towards Sentinel. As she approached him, she removed the onyx cowboy hat showing the tightly pinned black hair underneath.

    Sentinel had a decent grasp on Spanish; it was one language, aside from English that any super hero in the US needed to at least understand. And unlike the Oan Green Lanterns, the Starheart didn’t have an onboard translation system. So when she said the Government had moved fast, he knew that she was confident he’d been called to her village by another means.

    “Me nombre es Sentinel, umm con donde Jota Ese Ah,” he said explaining his name was Sentinel, and he was with the JSA. “Soy llegar acorrdo,” he then told her he was there to help.

    “I can speak English, better than your Spanish, Sentinel.” She laughed. “So the government didn’t request you?” She extended her white-gloved hand. Sentinel slipped his blue gloved hand inside her grasp and shook it. Her grip surprised the hero.

    “I am sorry, the trouble you’re having, is partly my fault,” he said. “It is of a mystical background.”

    “YOU DID THIS?” the sheriff asked approaching the few inches of space between them. “You explain now!”

    “The creature that is attacking your children was created by a piece of magic. It is a small fragment of an ancient artifact that belonged to a friend of mine. I… I should have watched it better. I want to give my apologies,” Sentinel said lowering his head.

    “It is not your magic artifact,” the Sheriff said her eyes growing big. “It is the Chupacabra. I have seen this with my eyes. You have come to the wrong place.”

    Sentinel slowly nodded his head. “I will deal with whatever way you want to describe it.” He did not wish to insult any belief. Especially since he knew that the belief in the Chupacabra wasn’t some sort of folktale. The creatures did exist. “Where does the thing dwell?”

    “We are not sure. But many men want to hunt this thing down.” The Sheriff pointed to the group of citizens who were pushing on the police officers. “And as you know it is dangerous. Five children have gone missing. You must act fast. We think it might live in the forest.”

    “Thank you, Sheriff. Then I will find it. Just keep the man hunt contained,” Sentinel said as he began to ascend back into the air again.

    “Just fix,” the Sheriff said to him as she watched the blue and red hero take off into the sky, in a broad outline of emerald.

    As the Sentinel climbed sixty feet into the air he came to a stop. His eyes looked at the green muscles of tree limbs and plant growth that angled towards the clouds. He arched his eyebrows as he stood silently hovering there.

    “Okay, Alan you are looking for a guy who has claws, is furry and killing children. So how do you find him?” the Green Lantern said to himself as he pondered his situation. “He was changed by a fragment of the helm of Nabu. This means there must be serious magic that caused that transformation. Wild Magic if the guy is unable to control himself. So then all I have to do is find a source of powerful magic.”

    The flame on Sentinel’s ring finger began to glow brighter as a stream of energy exploded from his fist. Before the eyes of the citizen’s below they saw a large green circle appear in the air. The circle quickly gathered detail, a shimmering metal backing with a clock face on the front. North, East, West and South came to life in abbreviations and single hand manifested itself in the center of the old fashion compass. “I hope this works,” he said as he concentrated on giving his device’s polarizing magnet a magic sensitivity.

    Sentinel watched as the hand of his compass construct began to edge from the large “N” towards the “W” before stopping a few ticks short. Pushing his body forward, he took off in flight, the large green compass following his blur of speed. His direction took him low over the green canopy of the forest, his red cape flowing behind him like a speed line. However the hero’s eyes were glued on the changing hand of the compass. As he got closer to the direction he watched as the hand began to creep back towards the large “N”.

    He came to a stop as the needle firmly fell in the center of “N”. “This must be it,” Sentinel said to himself as he slowly descended through the cluster of bright green leaves and winding branches. The limbs pressed against his uniform scratching his heavily muscled chest and legs as he floated down. His feet hit the ground in a soft crunch of twig. He lifted his head from his gaze on the compass to see a dark cabin in front of him. The trees shielding of the sun, gave it an almost disturbing aura.

    The cabin that stood in front of him wasn’t the sort of cabin you’d imagine Abraham Lincoln creating. It was a ruddy affair with the wear of age on its surface. The logs were almost black, with moss slithering between the gaps of rotting lumber. The two windows that faced the front of structure had been broken out, transparent shards jutting like teeth around the metal window frames. Broken rock concrete showed the ruins of what use to be steps to the doorway, which now only showed a four-inch crevice to the foundation that lay under the modest hovel

    Sentinel approached the door with a mild hurry in his step. Wanting to get this over with, as he felt he had taken too much time to find this place. He balled a hand into a fist and quickly wrapped on the rotting door. His knuckles delivered a solid wrap echoing through the dark trees that lay on all sides around him. Small knuckle sized spheres showed on the door’s sickly surface.

    Sentinel waited a few moments before he knocked on the door once more. “HELLO?” he shouted through to door. “Hola!” he said a second time shifting to Spanish. After still not getting a response he stood back from the door.   He sighed knowing that he was standing in front of a wooden door, so breaking it down with his power ring, was not going to happen. Instead he brought his left foot up in a quick snapping kick and slammed his heel through the rotting door.

    The force caused the door to snap in two horizontally and crash into the wooden floor of the broken down cabin.   Sentinel felt the sudden tinge of pain as he attempted to summon a flashlight with his ring. “Force of habit,” he muttered to himself, nervously. The hero felt a little claustrophobic in the cabin, and dreaded the thought of taking on the beast in the cabin. He mentally considered calling the JSA for help, as he stepped across the wooden floor.

    Sentinel only managed to cross ten steps however, before he his footfall made a resonated thump. He stopped instantly and bent to his haunches. The lack of power in the Starheart made him feel his age, as he bent at his knees. There was a burning of arthritis from years of fighting crime. The weakness to wood not only negated his ability to create constructs with his ring, but it also halted the slowing of his aging process. If he went long enough in a wooden enclosure he would gradually age to his full 109 years. It was the weakness that proved to be his biggest secret. But he’d not let it get that far. Not this time.

    He stretched his gloved hand to the ground feeling the metal rectangle his foot had attacked. It was cold to the touch, and definitely wasn’t installed with the original building of the cabin. His long fingers felt around the surface until he looped his thumb on a broad ‘O’ ring that sat hinged on the left most side. Gripping it with his sore and burning hand he pulled at it with his slowly fading strength.

    The trap door opened with a frightening screech. Heaving the door to the side of its hinge, Alan let go with a pained sigh. His shoulder burned with a throbbing he had not felt for decades. He bit his lips as he tried to look into the shaft, though all he could see was pitch black. Slowly Sentinel slid his aching legs through the doorway. His hands gripped the rim of the doorway as he lowered himself down.

    The hero wasn’t sure how far he dropped before landing in a crunch. But as his feet hit the ground, the pain in his muscles and joints disappeared like a bad dream. The flame on his ring finger also had crackled back to life, increasing the energy in his body twenty fold. His senses also came alive, with the stinging scent of mold and damp.

    An emerald torch manifested above Sentinel’s head instantly, shedding a green light over the cavern he’d found himself in. The chiseled rock was uneven, in discolored beige hues. Alan felt a dry gulp in his throat when he saw the rocky floor littered with small bleached white bones, moist with running drops of water from the stalactites that spiked from the ceiling.

    “Jesus…” Sentinel whispered to himself, as he began to walk forward. His heavy steps crunched the loosely distributed bones.   Remains he assumed were the unlucky victims, of whatever manner of beast the Chaos enriched spirit of Nabu had created with the shards of Hector’s helm.

    “Come no further,” a hoarse voice called from the unseen darkness lying beyond the light of Sentinel’s torch.

    The voice caused goose flesh to appear down the neck of the veteran hero. There was a murderous intent edged from the bass-tenor voice. A savage right to kill broadcasted on abused vocal chords for anyone who wronged its habitat. “I’m here for the children,” Sentinel said in his almost cheesy bravado.

    Sentinel didn’t stop his walking as silence once again fell across the cavern, only the squeaking sound of gravel underfoot gave way to the ears. The hero’s face had lost its usual smile, and only a brooding sense of anger seemed to mar the old man’s visage. He could deal with many things with a confident smile and a calm mind. But if he had one button, it was the abuse of children. He imagined that’s why The Phantom Stranger had come to him with this particular mission. With many shards causing problems all over the place, it made sense that this would be the mission he’d be assigned as a guardian of the magical realm.

    Five minutes passed in the deep silence, before Sentinel came to a stop. A brown blur caught at the edge of the emerald light so suddenly, that the old-fashioned torch construct dissolved in an instant. Forcing his right arm to his face, a large kite shield formed across his outstretched forearm.

    “YOU ARE NOT WELCOMED!” a monstrous voice shouted as thick black claws slammed into the emerald construct. The shield fizzed and shuddered at the five tons of impact. Energy lines fell from the Starheart energy as the Chupacabra ‘s seven-foot tall body slammed everything it had into the shield.

    Sentinel felt his feet flee the ground, as the impact forced his body into the air. The shield shattered with the sudden send off.   His tailbone hit the hard ground in a painful impact his back smashing moments later, sending chips of rock impacting the rocky walls. “That’s smarts,” the hero said as he pulled his thrashed body from the ground.

    The Hero had little time to get to his feet as the creature sprang from where it had impacted his body. The large simian looking skull lashing in the dark cavern with its frightening mouth, its large foot long golden teeth snapping as the creature fell on Sentinel.

    One powerful clawed hand gripped the hero’s shoulder forcing all its weight on him. The free claw raked its razor sharp edges across his chest. The strike marked a grizzly trail of blood across Sentinel’s chest as it attacked.

    The Golden-Age Green Lantern grimaced with the sudden pain. The creature pulled back from him its hand still keeping him pinned as it gnashed with its golden teeth. “I TOLD YOU! “ the creature spat.

    Fighting back the burning pain that inflamed across his chest, he pushed his will power to its limits. Using every shred of strength, the Starheart’s flame ignited once more. The flame’s magic formed a large boxing glove in that same second that the creature lashed its dreaded teeth. The boxing glove moved in an emerald smear towards the Chupacabra’s face. The impact of the boxing glove was akin to iron as it struck the creature’s furry jaw.

    The intensity sent the creature rolling off of Sentinel, and skidding a few feet across the rugged floor. Sentinel sprung to his feet in a single motion. His hands were squeezed into fists both pointing towards the creature.

    The Cupacabra got up just as quickly as Sentinel had, standing up to its full seven-feet height in the same time it took Sentinel to regain his stance. The creature didn’t waste much time to clear its head as it lunged its enormous feet forwards; the brown tufts of hair rippling like grasses across the heavily muscled valleys of its calves.

    It moved with a speed that denied its size. Its long and broad body perfectly in synch as it separated the distance between itself and Sentinel.   The hero barely had time to form an emerald barrier to fortify his body before the massive balled fists slammed into his stomach. He felt the impact through the green barrier, and then a second heavy fist slammed into his face causing his legs to buckle. A third punch slammed right at his chest forcing him several steps back.

    “Enough play time,” Sentinel announced to the creature as two emerald shackles formed on the creatures gigantic wrists. Sentinel winced as he used his massive willpower to force the arms to stop further strikes. As they paused in mid air, large chains manifested around the creature’s chest and legs binding it perfectly still.

    “I WILL GET LOOSE!” the Chupacabra yelled, its teeth glittering as it stretched its enormous body forward snapping at the air in front of Sentinel.

    “So that’s where the shard is,” Sentinel said noticing the gleaming gold upper teeth. A large emerald hand grabbed a hold of the tree trunk like neck of the creature. The Cupacabra opened its mouth wide exposing the sharp teeth. Sentinel’s own hand gripped the teeth in his gloved hand and ripped it free.

    Blood splattered in a light mist as the teeth were pulled free from the creature’s gums. The large Chupacabra began to shrink instantly. The thick brown hair began to recede, and the body began to wither to a shorter stature. The gorilla like face began to shift before his eyes, a human nose jutting from the thinning hair and normal human teeth began to slide back into place.

    Alan Scott watched as the seven foot tall monster reverted to a skinny and quite naked forty-year-old, blond-haired man. He collapsed to the ground with a thud. He looked from the unconscious human to his blood stained glove, and looked at the glittering chip of gold that sat in his palm.

    “Good work, Alan Scott,” The Phantom Stranger’s voice spoke moments before the gaunt mystic appeared in front of him.

    “I trust you will know what to do with this, Stranger,” Sentinel said as he slid his open hand towards the blue garbed figure.

    The Stranger curled his hands around the bloodied shard of gold and lifted it towards where the white of his eyes peered through his thick shadows. “I do, Alan Scott. You have my thanks.”

    Sliding the shard into the breast pocket of his blue vest, he stood there motionless, his body slowly fading out. Sentinel watched until the last visages of the mystic evaporated into the darkness before he stepped forward. He had retrieved the shard of the helm of Nabu, but he wasn’t finished with his duty.

    Sentinel walked past the naked Anglo-European, and made his way through the winding passage, until he got to a darkened chamber that seemed to have been carved from the very rock, by claw and teeth. Deep ridges ran across the thick rock like seriated edges. The green flashlight appeared in front of him once more as he shed light on the darkened room.

    The room was a hovel for lack of a better word. There was a desk in the back of the room, which was a simple sledge of rock supported by roughly cut limbs of a tree. A pile of rocks sat in the center of the desk that Sentinel imagined was supposed to be some sort of chair. A fire pit was dug near the center with spent twigs and kindling, scorched into a fine charcoal paste. However what caught his attention was the thin girl who sat huddled up in the center of the room. Her chin was resting on her knees, and her thin bronze arms hugged her legs.

    As the green light shined on her mess of black hair she slowly raised her head. Dirt and grime clung to her cheeks and thin chin. Her caramel eyes were netted with red veins. She squinted at the sudden light and she only hugged her legs harder.

    “Hola, mi nombre es Sentinel, soy es Super Hero,” he said in his loose understanding of the language.

    “Chupacabra es morte? “ she asked as she jumped to her feet. Her paisley flower skirt was mere rags. Dirt and grime hugged the ripped and torn clothing she wore. But it didn’t stop her from traversing the area between herself and Sentinel and wrapping her arms around him.

    “Close enough,” he said in English. “Let’s get you home, huh?”

END

NEXT ISSUE: The Heir of Fate Event will continue in HEIR OF FATE: Zatanna. Zee finds a FortuneTeller who is using a shard of the Helm of Nabu in Kentucky. With a back up story featuring Tempest!

AUTHOR NOTES:

For the most part I’m assuming this story is coming out of the blue (aside from the few people who knew about it before this month), and so many people are probably wondering what this whole “Heir of Fate” thing is. Obviously it has to do with Doctor Fate, but it’s a bit larger than that, to be honest.

The idea for this story has been in my brain for about a year now, and Curt and a few others have had to witness me coming up with all these various ideas on how I was going to design this thing. It started when I realized that the Mystical corner of JLU2001 really wasn’t all that used, which had been bothering me, being how DC has tons of really cool magic and supernatural characters, and they tend to for the most part be ignored in Fan Fiction. I wanted to do something to bring together a ton of these cool characters, write about them in a big battle that threatens the world and puts them in the limelight. Sort of like an Annihilation for mystic super heroes if you will. And then when I was catching up on JLA here, I came across Curt’s Twist of Fate storyline, where Nabu was cleaved in half and supposedly destroyed. And hence I began thinking, how the lord of order and chaos being destroyed would definitely be ending this age of magic. But what would the outcome be? Also it would be a damn good reason for people to be fighting over the powers that have been unleashed.

Soooo with Hector Hall, a mere shadow of his former self, and Nabu having come back in the Earth-2 event, I thought it’d be cool if Nabu in the last of his powers to shatter the helm and disperse his vengeful ways over the DC Universe. That half helm to be collected to start a war over the two halves of the helm—and I’m sure you are wondering who is, the Heir of Fate? Is he a villain ready to take the power himself? Well as with all good magic a duality exists.

In this event of One Shots, you are going to see a lot of mystical characters wandering around. Some that are background characters in some of our ongoing titles, some that have been in various guest spots, and some that have never been introduced. It’s my hope that it will breathe new life into the mystical corner of JLU2001, and get people excited about this

So yes there’s a battle coming. There is a lot of foreshadowing in these prelude, one-shots, to building up the tapestry of the story that will reintroduce Doctor Fate. However what form Doctor Fate takes after everything that has happened, remains to be seen.

I hope you all enjoy the story in the coming months.

-Jae Lizhini
05/10