Re: Ultimate Central: The Fanfic - Volume Ten
The Castle
It was time. The spells were cracking and Goodwill could feel it in his bones. He threw himself against the bars of his cell and passed through them with little resistance. The castle walls shook and he felt that it was plummeting. The sensation was paralyzing. He gripped the wall and began to pray
DR. STRANGEFATE: Well, that certainly won't help you here.
The voice was in his head, but there was no sign of the "Good" Doctor.
GOODWILL: Get out of my—
DR. STRANGEFATE: Brace yourself.
The Castle hit the ground. Burning dust swirled in the air like hot ash, and the walls began to crumble around Goodwill. He felt his right arm bend and snap where there were no joints. He screamed as he has screamed so many times before in this horrible place, and came to realize that somehow everything had just become so much worse. A hole in the walls of the tower looked down upon a giant red desert under hopelessly grey skies. In the distance there were fires that looked the size of forests. Something had gone wrong. He knew this. Hell was real, and the Dark Doctor had brought him there.
The pain in his arm was overwhelming. He felt the embrace of cold shadow before passing out.
Dr.Strangefate has spent his life seeking ultimate power. He rose from the ranks of a third-rate team of supervillains to take charge and lead them to a new tomorrow. He stole the reality altering powers of the divine entity Lil Kis, and drank the blood of the angel Caduceus to secure his position as the most powerful being in the universe. His goals are clear. He will not rest until he is seated on the Throne of Heaven as Lord of the Cosmos.
Several months ago, an unknown entity within the organization known as 616 Central unleashed a nigh-omnipotent Doomwurm to dispose of the Divinely Damned Doctor Strangefate. Losing the battle, Strangefate had no choice but to pull the creature, his castle, and all inside into the eternal pits of Hell.
Cover Art by Skotti. Original Art Here.
~ NURHACHI & DR.STRANGEFATE PRESENT ~
ULTIMATE CENTRAL
THE FANFIC
Inferno
Volume 10, Issue 74,
By Dr.Strangefate
The Desert of the Damned
To describe walking through the endless red sand deserts of Hell, one would be hard pressed not to draw comparisons to the act of walking across burning coals. One who walks in the desolate darkness can feel the skin boiling off his feet, stripped naked by the torrential winds that offer no sweet relief to the damned. These dark souls are eternally exhausted, but cannot stop walking, because to stop and sit is to irrevocably scar your torso with the deadly sands.
One man, newly damned to wander the darkness, had already gone mad with the utter silence of this realm. His throat was numbed by the harsh air, and he gasped violently to breathe. He had spent a week screaming, once, just to see whether anything, man or demon, would come to see his pain. No one had. He barely remembered his life before, his sins long forgotten. All he knew was pain. Pain and silence. It was a shock then, to hear a shuffling coming behind the ridge of the nearest sand dune. The man paused a moment, mid-step. A poor decision, the increased weight on his foot buried it in the sand, and he did what he could to stifle his screams. Sure enough, there was someone beyond the ridge, he could swear that he heard mumbling. He tried to run, but his foot caught, and he fell face first onto the desert floor. He hadn't time to scream, as his throat burned through, and every struggle intensified the pain until the man passed out entirely.
A small creature wandered towards the charred corpse, seemingly unaware of the deadly sand beneath his feet. His fur was red, and tiny horns made him look a mockery of the Halloween version of the devil. He laughed and mumbled to himself constantly, and sniffed at the remains of the damned human.
Hellsbuttmonkey: Looks like it's dinnertime!
It was a good meal, if not a little unsatisfying. The malnourishment of the dead led to some pretty nasty tasting meat, but when there's nothing else around, a demon has to take what he can get.
Suddenly, the sky lit up with beams of energy, and Hellsbuttmonkey stared, awestruck. This was Angel Magic, and he hadn't seen that sort of power since he had been forcibly removed from the courts of the Inner Circle. A castle fell from the reddened sky, and crashed into the sand. A large snake-like creature thrashed and screamed in the sand, and a distant figure pushed it further and further from the castle with beams of untold power. The creature did not like the sand, it writhed in its death throws, and began to curl into a withering, smoking ball. The figure floated back towards the castle and the smoke hit Hellbuttmonkey's ridge. It smelled exquisite. He had just eaten, but he was always open to having some fresh meat. His stomach grumbled, and he nodded his head. It would be a good hour's walk in this new form, but it would be worth it.
The Castle
Strangefate's wounds slowly clotted and healed as he chanted in arcane tones. The poison of the Doomwurm was only active as long as the beast lived, and the deadly desert had seen to the creature's demise. Strangefate shook with fury. How many years would this set him back? How much longer would he have to wait to reach his final goals? His loyal servant, Shade stared blankly at the desert surrounding the castle. He could feel the soul tattering winds and knew where his master had taken him.
DR. STRANGEFATE: ******* ****ing Doomwurm… I spent years ensuring there was no one who could stand in my way, no one who could summon something like this. When I get my hands on who… Well, time is of the essence. We must return to the world above at once.
He turned to Shade with determination. His eyes burned the deepest crimson, and his angelic wings stretched with impatience.
DR. STRANGEFATE: See to the prisoners. I want to insure that they have not sustained any major injuries, but mostly, it must be certain that they hadn't the chance to escape while we were under siege. I need to make sure the Portrait Gallery is intact. The damage seems to be centered primarily in the east wing of the castle, which means the transdimensional gate has almost certainly been destroyed…. The walls and rooms can heal themselves, what I am concerned about are my belongings.
The Good Doctor surveyed the damage as he walked the treacherous halls towards the Portrait Gallery. His life's work hung on those walls, the gathered souls of loyal sorcerors, lesser in power to him, but when pulled together they offered his greatest chance to storm the gates of Heaven. His own unholy army.
The room was large and imposing, a ballroom containing a seventy-foot dining table where the Doctor has taken his meals before the Angel's blood had removed from him the need for sustenance. The elaborately painted ceiling was rubble now, strewn across the now broken table. One-third of the east wall had fallen and broken canvasses littered the ground. Even more paintings were forever lost between the worlds. The opposite wall had maintained. Most of the portraits were safe. The "Good" Doctor breathed a sigh of relief, and composed himself.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Gentlemen, I apologize for the inconvenience of our displacement. This, of course, will delay your release from your current states. The plans continue however, do not dispair.
There were murmurs of dissent. Of anger. Strangefate breathed angrily, closing his eyes.
DR. STRANGEFATE: We are in Hell. Would you prefer I release you here?
Silence.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I thought not.
Shade appeared then, materializing in a corner. He gestured to his master in an effort to explain himself.
DR. STRANGEFATE: For god's sake! Speak! I have no patience for your little games today.
Shade's voice was like a whisper heard across the hall. Unsubstantial, with little confidence. He spoke rarely, and only ever in the presence of the Doctor.
SHADE:
the prisoner, goodwill, has been moved to a more stable chamber while the magic binding the castle heals itself. his arm is broken, but i left him with the injury, as i assumed you would prefer. the angel is pained by our presence in this realm, but the cross is intact. he is bound.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Good. Good… Take me to the balcony.
SHADE:
yes, master.
The Good Doctor looked out upon the sands of Hell, and the distant cities to the North. His usual methods of traveling beteen the realms had been eradicated by the Doomwurm's attack. He would need to travel towards the center of Hell. He would need to make a deal.
SHADE:
sir?
DR. STRANGEFATE: Yes, Shade?
SHADE:
where is the doomwurm? all i can see is a small… is that a monkey?
Strangefate took wing and descended towards the creature.
DR. STRANGEFATE: What is this?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Oh, sorry. Was it yours?
Strangefate stared at the creature, revolted and confused. It burped. Loudly.
DR. STRANGEFATE: A Doomwurm? Why would I keep a Doomwurm?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I've seen weirder. Tasted weirder, even…
DR. STRANGEFATE: You ate it?!
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: What the hell else was I supposed to do with it? Play dress up?
DR. STRANGEFATE: It was almost a mile long! You're about four feet tall!
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: That is a matter of perspective, my friend.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Who are you? Name yourself, Demon.
The tiny red ape puffed up his chest, and spoke in the deepest voice he could manage.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I am Lord Glyndwr the Wicked. Baron of Botulism. Duke of Discordia. One of the Nine High Kings of Hell
The Good Doctor smirked, and his eyes flashed red.
DR. STRANGEFATE: What is a high king doing all the way out here in the endless desert?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: That's none of your business, you big fluffy poof.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I'm guessing that's not your true form. Not many of the Lords of Hell look like a little girl's plush doll.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: This little plush doll can still kick your poncy ***!
Strangefate chuckled to himself.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Is that so?
The demon pounced, producing a pitchfork from the ether and swinging it at Strangefate. The doctor blocked the strike with a fist and shot a beam of purple-pink energy at the creature. It shrieked at him, bounding from the beam's trajectory, hurling a handful of burning sand in the eyes of the doctor. The sand did not seem to affect him, and Strangefate laughed a full-throated laugh at the demon's folly. He grabbed it by the tail and flew skyward. The monkey breathed fire, doing nothing but singe the doctor's eyebrows. Strangefate swung the creature against the highest tower of the castle with all his unholy strength. And again. And again. The creature fell limp.
LATER
DR. STRANGEFATE:
EKAW PU
They were in the library now, and the walls had almost completely reconstituted themselves. The creature that had called itself Glyndwr rubbed its eyes and realized it was laying on a red satin couch. It coughed a moment, and sat up to look the room around. Shelves upon shelves of arcane texts, but there were many noticeable holes in what had apparently been a complete collection. Shade glowered in the corners of the room, disappearing from one to another as his master paced.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Okay, boss, you win. It's… been a while since I faced that kind of action. What kind of man are you anyways?
DR. STRANGEFATE: No kind of man.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Fine, be cryptic if that's how you get your kicks. I can tell you one thing, though. I know you don't want to be here. You're trying to leave. Am I right?
DR. STRANGEFATE: You would be making a fair assumption.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I'll tell you what I know. My story, tell you what I know about the hierarchy down here.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I know plenty.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: You
think you know plenty. I bet you none of your texts on Hell are under one hundred and fifty years old. This place has changed! Television, Movies, The Internet! It's not like we're out of the loop down here. You don't know squat. I do. I tell you what the what is, and then, when you… IF you manage to find your way out, you take me with you.
Strangefate mocked surprise.
DR. STRANGEFATE: What? A demon wants to get out of Hell?
The monkey stewed for a moment in silence.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I have a second condition. If I tell you what I know, you will refer to me henceforth by my proper name. Do we have a deal?
The monkey held out its malformed hand. After a moment of consideration, Strangefate took it in his own.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I suppose we do.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Well, then I guess you're going to need a little backstory… See… The big guy down here, The Prince of Darkness himself, has picked up a bizarre warm spot for artists from the world above. It's been growing for centuries, and truth be told, he envies these people… They can create entire worlds with their minds, in a way, it's kind of like… well… playing God. And since he thought of playing God first, he figures that he is the first and greatest artist.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I see… So Lucifer fancies himself an artist these days?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Well, he's still not so good with the ideas… And that's where the trouble all started. He realized that he could possess the writers he considers great, and write his own material by their hands. He started doing this… what? Two hundred? Three hundred years ago? Anyways, he's been at it for a while, but he used to hold off for a while between goes at it… He might write a little play through James Joyce, and then wait a few decades before hopping into F. Scott Fitzgerald. The books would come out, and we would all oooh and ahhh, and tell him how flipping amazing his work was. We all knew it was garbage, but we could flatter him every now and then just to avoid getting ourselves tossed into eternal torment with the rest of the damned.
The former high-king poured himself some tea from a kettle that had been set up near Strangefate's desk. He pondered a moment on how to continue. The Doctor stared on, more than a little perplexed.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I think we all just gave him too much support in those early days. He would go off for months at a time to work on something, and we were living the high-life. We barely noticed that something that had happened every couple of decades was now happening every year, then every couple of months… Nowadays it's the internet. He's always trying to create the new fad, and jumping onto others… We're all a part of the play now, constantly. There was a month where all of demonkind wore the skins of cats and had to speak to each other like retarded children. It's gotten out of control. He's more obsessed with the immediate artforms… things you don't have to wait months to see. And that's when he hopped into the minds of comic book writers.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Wait a second. The Devil writes comic books? You're not kidding with me?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Oh, I wish I were…. At least seven or eight of his books come out every single week, and the legions of the damned are required to read and love each and every single story. We have to regale him with praise for his talent. And the only time this crap's any good, is when the original writer's slip back into control for a second! I was dealing with it, competently, I thought… Until His Lord High Worship decided to take one-third of MY kingdom and turn it into a premium comic book shop which only sells the worst of the worst. This store goes on for miles and miles, even contains a decent movie theater in the back, to show his rare forays into film these days (there was one with a creature the humans call The Beniffer which I found particularly revolting). And so I got angry…
DR. STRANGEFATE: Understandably so.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: One thing you folks don't understand about the Internet is that it's as much of a cosmic force as anything. There is only one internet, and we use it as much down here as you use it up there… So I figured, hey, I'm peeved at the big guy, and I want to get even, but I can't ACTUALLY get even, so I figure that I'll just ***** about him on the internet! So I find this message board—
DR. STRANGEFATE: Wait… What was the name of the board?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Small comic book board that used to be focused specifically on the sort of comics Lucifer was writing at the time. You've never heard of it, I'm sure… Ultimate Central.
Strangefate's grin was almost imperceptible, but nevertheless present. He knew what would happen next in the demon's story.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: So one night, I'm tearing apart this whole story-arc apart where he somehow managed to turn the love interest of the series into a male wolf creature… I know, it's pretty ****ed up, right? And a beam of light shoots out of the computer, filling the whole room. I knew it was over, then… The energy had wiped out the internet throughout the realm, and the Roflcopters descended on my Castle instantaneously…
DR. STRANGEFATE: The
what now??
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Roflcopters… Flying manned police units powered by the laughter of the criminally insane. 'snot really important. Anyways. They got me, and Lucifer saw what I was planning to write about him. He had to go off into his side quarters for a while, and I swear that I heard him crying in there… But that's besides the point. He stripped me of my title, of my name, of my land, and of my true nature. He declared to all of demonkind that I was Hell's Buttmonkey, and that I would be sent to wander the eternal deserts for all of time and think of what I have done.
DR. STRANGEFATE: Heh… All for hurting his pride?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Well, think who we're talking about here…
DR. STRANGEFATE: This is going to be even easier than I thought it would be. I shall read some of the Dark Lord's comic books, and present myself in his court as a fan. All I'll need to do is flatter him, and we'll be home free. You have saved the day, it seems, Hellsbuttmonkey.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: I thought we had agreed…
DR. STRANGEFATE: That I would call you by your proper name. You were given the first by Lucifer, and it was taken away. He has given you a new name, and that is the proper one. You'd best get used to it.
Hellsbuttmonkey grumbled to himself.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: …thought I was the demon…
Ignoring his companion entirely, Strangefate looked to one of the dark corners of his study.
DR. STRANGEFATE: To me, my servant… You have work to do.
The City of Dis
Roflcopters swarmed the air around the grungy streets of Dis, the most populous city in all of Hell. This is where the demons lived, where they came home after a long day's work of torturing the poor souls who found themselves dragged into the pit by their own indiscretions. It was nothing personal, it was just their job. Some of them enjoyed it more than others, just like it is elsewhere in the world.
Shade, the man of shadows, lurked down the streets of this dark city. If his body still contained a heart, it would have been racing. The city was as if they had sewn together every rotten corner of every metropolitan city in the world. Gangs roamed the streets, beating each other to death "for the lulz," as they would say. Everything to amuse their lord and master. He heard the howling of terrible beasts, trained to massacre those dressed in a certain manner they had deemed ridiculous. Some men carried sonic rifles, programmed to decimate one's ears with a particular 1980's song that had inexplicably become popular as a means of torture and dismay. They called the process "rickrolling".
The Comic Shop was harder to find than Shade had anticipated. The streets changed often, to leave its inhabitants lost in corners they had never tried to reach. But upon the third time passing the same office block, the store was there, and Shade moved quickly, as to prevent it from disappearing yet again.
The store smelled of dead cats and feces, but Shade had long sense lost the senses of smell and taste, so it did him no harm. He approached the counter where a tremendously obese demon with a goatee and ponytail sat, scratching himself in the most unflattering way.
SHADE:
i am looking for...
He searched his memory for the proper term
SHADE:
…ultimate comics?
COMIC BOOK GUY: Ah, yes. The Ultimate Marvel series, excellent work there from our dark lord and master in recent weeks, don't you think? Cap had been Black Panther all along! Genius work, so much better than that horrible Millar fellow. Don't you agree?
SHADE:
…
COMIC BOOK GUY:: Haven't read the other stuff? Well good for you. Worst. Comic. Ever. I cannot stress that enough. We've got a box right here of the good stuff. Would that be all?
Shade nodded, producing a large quantity of gold coins across the counter.
COMIC BOOK GUY:: What in Hell do you think this is? We don't accept gold here! This is a soul business!
SHADE:
i… i haven't got a soul.
COMIC BOOK GUY:: Then get out! Out with you! Or I'll call the Roflcopters on you to take you off!
Shade didn't need to be told twice. He skulked out and thought for a good long time about the prospects of stealing the comics. He was fairly sure he could get away with it, but he didn't know the magical prowess of these individual demons. Could they grab hold of a shadow itself? Possibly not, but why risk the consequences?
A voice called out from a nearby alley.
VOICE: Hey! You! Lookin' to get your hands on the big guy's comics?
SHADE:
yes.
VOICE: I've got the full set, right here.
Shade could see nobody, but the box sat there, as plain as day. He paused a moment, considering.
SHADE:
what's the catch?
The voice chuckled nervously.
VOICE: No catch… No catch… Just be quick.
SHADE:
you don't want these comics?
VOICE: I love his work!
The voice shouted to no one and to everyone. The timbre of the voice told Shade exactly how terrifed the demon was of getting rid of these wretched works
VOICE: Look, do you want them? Because I do, I LOVE THESE COMICS. I don't even want to give them away! I just want to… Eh… Want to help you get started on
your connection.
SHADE:
would you like gold?
VOICE: JUST TAKE THEM ALREADY!!! And be quick about it! The Roflcopters will be flying by any second… And well… Just go!
And he did.
Later, in the Castle of Dr. Strangefate
DR. STRANGEFATE: This… is… terrible!
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: See? What'd I tell ya?
DR. STRANGEFATE: It's just… every one of these stories ends with the same Deus Ex Machina! Either this government group shows up to save the day, or this other group of heroes… How can he actually develop Spider-Man as a character without letting him fight his own battles?
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: It's pretty awful stuff.
DR. STRANGEFATE: I just… How do I convince Lucifer that I actually enjoy reading this nonsense? I have absolutely no idea what to say to him!
The air shifted suddenly in the library, blowing out the candles, which could not be blown out by any natural wind. In the darkness he felt a presence collecting itself. Deep in the dungeons of the basement, Strangefate thought he could hear Caduceus screaming louder than he ever had before.
LUCIFER: Well, Well, Well… If it isn't Hell's very own Buttmonkey.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Up yours, Lucy.
LUCIFER: And you've brought a guest to help sully my name, have you? Trying to turn all of your brethren against me? Is that it!?
DR. STRANGEFATE: No, sir, Not at all! I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed—
LUCIFER: Silence!! Your magic is nothing in my realm, Strangefate, I've been keeping an eye on you, and I heard what you had to say about my comics!
DR. STRANGEFATE: I'm sorry, I just thought—
LUCIFER: I don't care what you thought! Clearly you are trying to start some sort of rebellion here! Well I won't have it! Get out of Hell, and take your stupid monkey!
The ground began to shake, the castle lifting itself from the desert floor.
LUCIFER: And once you've left, you'll never come back! Hell's gates are closed to both of you! For eternity!!
The walls vibrated and the castle spun, faster and faster. Lucifer vanished into nothingness, and Strangefate noticed something remarkable. He smelled ocean air. He heard birds in the distance.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Did we make it?
DR. STRANGEFATE: That was almost stupidly easy… Come now, demon. We have work to do…
Hellsbuttmonkey looked out the window onto a Caribbean coastline. Never in his centuries of existence had he seen such vibrant colors… Such life. As he backed away from the wall, he turned inward, still mystified at the new possibilities his life now contained.
HELLSBUTTMONKEY: Sure… Sure thing, boss.
He followed the doctor out of the library, and into a brand new world.
EPILOGUE
A tall man with short dark hair wandered past long and winding bookcases towards a back room, a secret room. The treasures of his library, stolen arcane texts from the world's most powerful magician. This world's, anyways… He hung his black cloak on the wall and ran his fingers along the bindings of dozens upon dozens of ancient tomes containing secret knowledge. Each book in Strangefate's library had been unique. He had long since hunted down and destroyed other copies, ensuring that no young man or woman could study towards becoming his equal. No man on this world could ever be his equal. One would have to show himself in from elsewhere.
The man pulled one of the texts off the shelf and walked to a large, comfortable sitting chair, flipping to a yellowed page depicting a large indestructible snake-like creature, coiled around the top of a mountain. The language wasn't English, but the word was the same. Doomwurm.
A Voice Says: What is the Good Doctor doing up so late?
He Replies: It wasn't enough. We should have taken him out of the picture when The Emperor first came to this Earth. Our work here is important, Skott, and my double has the power to destroy everything we have worked for. Why doesn't the council understand?
SKOTT-KUN: You need sleep. You have an appointment with the Emperor first thing tomorrow morning. Stop worrying about Dr. Strangefate…
Skott wrapped his arms around the neck of Dr. Doomsday, and rested his head upon his shoulder. Doomsday was silent, deep in thought.
SKOTT-KUN: Houdenmeyer says my double's a girl. Said something crazy about wanting to do a few experiments on her. Really creeped me out. Why do they even let him up here anymore?
DR. DOOMSDAY: He serves a purpose, like the rest of us. It isn't our place to question the Emperor.
SKOTT-KUN: Well, I'm going to sleep. You coming?
DR. DOOMSDAY: In a moment.
He watched Skott leave the library, and pondered their futures. He loved Skott dearly, that was certain. It grounded him and gave him power, love being the cornerstone of the white magicks to which he was bound. Skott was strong, his powers were growing day by day in the training barracks of 616 Central. But they were nothing compared to his own, and even he couldn't defeat his dark duplicate one on one under current circumstances. What would be the cost of battling Dr. Strangefate?
He wondered. And in the dark, he waited.
