Issue #7/Finale: Stairway To Heaven

Kid Eternity could hear the words drilled into his head. Entropy. Entropy. Entropy. ENTROPY. “Say it!” the voices of a thousand serpents sang, “Say it!”

“Nnnoo!” said Kit Freeman, bound to the walls of hell by infernal chains, taunted and teased and tormented. “Never, never, never…”

“You will say it, Kit Freeman. You will say the word and become something new. Words of power are found across the realms of Hell, and each one has a delicious consequence after being spoken. It is your mirror word. Eternity will never work here, Kit. But your new word will. It would set you free.”

Kid Eternity looked at the thing speaking him, the voice so smooth and persuasive, and was shocked to see not a demon, or a monster, a ghost or a vampire, but a tall, beautiful man. His features were angelic, his hair blonde, his eyes glowing the most brilliant blue. The man smiled, and wiped the sweat and blood from Kit’s face. “Say the word.”

“You can’t… fool me… deceiver…” and Kit spat in the man’s face, causing him to recoil in surprise and disgust.

The façade of the man dropped, demon features spread across his face and his voice turned into a hurricane of spinning glass. “YOU WILL SAY THE WORD. A THOUSAND YEARS PASS FOR ONE OF YOUR HUMAN DECADES, YOU WILL SUFFER AND YOU WILL KNOW PAIN AND YOU WILL SAY THE WORD, BE IT IN THE NOW OR THE THEN. TIME MEANS NOTHING TO US! ONLY THE FINAL FIGHT AT THE END OF CREATION! YOU WILL SAY THE WORD!”

“Oh, bite me,” said Kit, as the man extended the talons from his finger tips, and slashed across the young hero’s chest.

* * *

Doctor Occult and The Shade journeyed lower into the pit. It felt like they’d been walking for weeks now, and there seemed to be no end in sight for the two travelers. But they continued on, never speaking, never questioning, the determination upon Occult’s face saying all that needed to be said to his companion.

The stairs went on forever. Spiraling down, down, down, and above them, more leading up, up, up. “I fell from the world above to the membrane between the upper echelons of Hell and the Pit. Like a bullet,” said Occult, “there’s something wrong here.”

“Of course there’s something wrong, Richard, we’re in Hell, we’re descending into the Pit, and for the life of me, I don’t know why. Because Madame Xanadu’s prophecy? Hrmm.”

“You’ve done worse for less. You’re the guide, according to her tarot reading. And you’re one of my oldest friends. In more ways than one,” Richard shrugged. “My love is here, Shade. I won’t stop.”

“And I’ll always have your back, sir. We’re in Hell, aren’t we? I could have abandoned you hours… days… ago,” the Shade laughed, and then grabbed Richard by the shoulder. “But if I’m the guide, then let me try something.” He stepped in front of Occult, and brought up his hands, his fingers outstretched. The light in Hell made no sense. It came from no place, but stained the walls of the underworld red, and would continue to until the fires from the bottom of the Pit went out. So The Shade stood, his eyes closed, in silence, until there was a rumble. Hell shook. Occult staggered back, not knowing what was going on, but watched, in awe, as tendrils of darkness began to leech down the red, wet walls of Hell. The eternal staircase rocked and then began to crumple from above and bottom, until all that was left was the ledge that the two men were standing.

“Shade! What are you do--”

Occult was cut off as the ledge groaned, and crumbled apart at the seams… and then they hurtled… down… down… down…

* * *

Yeter'el smiled. He rarely smiled these days. He’d been asleep for years, it felt, and only recently, only in the past few weeks had he been free. He was the voice that had haunted Richard Occult’s fringe consciousness. He was the demon essence embedded within the magician’s soul. And he had been expunged. He’d been sent hurtling back down into the Pit, and that was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Rose… do you want to play?”

She’d chained him to Doctor Occult’s soul. It had postponed her torture at his hands, and so she’d neither been dead or alive, an eerie state of unbeing that had been snatched away from her mere days ago. In the Pit, time passed strangely. But in this room, far below the world above, she’d been floating, and now that her tormentor had returned from the prison she had forced upon him… she prayed her beloved would find her soon.

* * *

TOOM!

The massive stone slab that was formally the staircase down to the Pit collided with the ground below, and the two heroes were unfazed by the impact. A plume of grey dust rose up, and the two men stepped through, and then realized they’d just… walked into… a trap.

“The Shade! Doctor Occult!” a demon with a thousand teeth instead of a face stepped forward, his bone addled arms bleeding as he rose them to greet the interlopers. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise! Do you know where you are?”

Neither of them spoke. Behind this creation was a thousand demons, each more horrifying to gaze upon than the last. Doctor Occult felt the ghost-whistle tingle against his chest. One blow, and the Spectre would rain his vengeance upon these people.

“Why, the Pit of course! Where the darkest, dirtiest, most glorious demons reside! No rhymers shall you find here! Only evil. Purest. Darkest evil. The creatures that haunt the womb dreams of unborn children, driving them to pure insanity before they taste air… the creatures, my glorious brethren, that whisper into the minds of the pure so that they commit acts so heinous that…” the creature seemed to smell the air, if only he had a nose to do so, “… oh, they’d be so glorious to be witnessed!”

“If you’re going to kill us, monster,” said Occult, “then stop with this procrastination.”

“You humans have no love for the flair of murder. Such a lost art. Fine, fine,” his teeth seemed to grow in size. The bones protruding from his extremities grew in length too, and also serration. Behind the lead demon, the others began to ready themselves for war.

The Shade looked to Doctor Occult, and smiled, his shadow growing more and more tangible with every moment, liquid beads of black sharpness bleeding out from the edges. “I take back what I said earlier. I can’t take you anywhere.”

The Sigil of Seven was tight in Occult’s hand, the ghost-whistle still hidden behind his shirt and tie. Now was not the time. “Come on then, you bastards… just try and stop me from seeing my Rose!”



Shadow and light intertwined and erupted out of both heroes’ hands, and the demons were engulfed by the onslaught, hellfire and brimstone erupting from the ground as the force of the blast drove the beasts back. The strength of the attack caused the Pit to shake, and then, when the two men stopped their attack, there was nothing but destruction. Twitching bodies of the war-demons lay strewn across the field, some dead, some barely holding to life.

“Shade… I have a question,” said Occult, as he tucked his Sigil away into his pocket, “where do demons go when they die?”

* * *

Yeter'el leaned in close to Rose Psychic. She had not aged a day since the last time he’d met her, and he loved it. “We’ve got so much time on our hands, how the Hell will we spend it?” He extended a pink finger, which shifted into obsidian blackness, the finger nail boney white and growing longer with every word. He tore through the material of her dress slowly, beginning below her navel and reaching up. “… and don’t forget your other playmates. Nimue Inwudu, the beautiful and alluring Madame Xanadu. Unable to die, but I wonder how hard I’ll have to push before she begins to wish she could?”

“Control issues.”

Yeter’el looked at Rose Psychic, who was smiling. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a control freak, Yeter’el. You want power and you want to control. But you aren’t what you used to be. You’re a fallen angel, for God’s sake, and you still act like you deserve the power you yearn for.” She laughed. “That’s why it was so easy to bind you to Richard… because you’re a weak little child.”

He slapped her with a human hand, and pointed an angry finger at her. “Eternity. We have eternity together. And if my third guest breaks, as my friends in the pit assure me he will, beyond eternity.”

“We’ll see,” replied Rose, the smile still strong upon her lips.



“What was that?” asked Yeter’el, to no one in particular.

“Are your powers so weak that you don’t recognize the sound of your destroyer?” Rose laughed loudly, “that’s my beloved. And he’s going to kill you.”

* * *

“Say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it,” whispered the voices, again and again, licking at Kit Freeman’s ear. Entropy. Entropy. Entropy. “SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY IT!”

Kit Freeman always had a tenuous understanding of his powers. He didn’t know where the abilities came from, assuming them to be the working of a higher power, but all his life, all eighteen years of his existence, brought him no information regarding the hows and whys of his ability. Maybe this was the reason. His word of power was Eternity. What if Entropy was another word of power?

He began to laugh. The whispering ceased. “Hahaha… you… are demons… like I’m ever going to do… anything… you ask… hahaha!”



“He’s stronger than we expected,” remarked one demon, red skinned and with scarlet flames for hair. “Persuasion isn’t going to work.”

“Then punishment,” remarked another, “punish him. Make him bleed and suffer and pain. And then ask him politely, nicely, to say our word of power. To bring him back to us. Entropy.”

* * *

Madame Xanadu was sitting in the dark, cross legged, meditating on a pack of cards that her soul formed. She was of magical lineage, but her connection recently had been hurt, and so she existed as best she could. The tarot was haunting her, as her reading haunted Richard Occult. She repeated the words that erupted through her mouth all those weeks ago, slowly and concisely, picking them apart in her mind as she thought what she could do next.

“The mystery and the conspiracy and the magic that binds us all together like glue. The Entropy Child will come. The castrated evil will give unnatural birth to his demon horde, and murder virgin and corrupt alike. The wanderer, with thirst unquenchable. The white and the black, the madhouse becomes the hell house and everything will fall apart. But she… is coming.”

She was in Hell. In the Pit. The thing inside the Shade had brought her here, kicking and screaming. The things she’d seen in the Shadowlands, precursors of horrors not yet here. She was in Hell. This got not get any worse.

* * *

“I can feel her,” said Richard, as he looked around frantically, “I feel her more than I have in years, Rose is near!”

“So is Xanadu, and so is Kid Eternity, apparently. Should we split up?”

Richard took out the Sigil of Seven and closed his eyes. Red and black light shot out and intertwined together, hurtling through the Pit and colliding with a strange door at the other end of what was a curious corridor. Angles made no sense, but again, Occult wasn’t surprised. This was Hell. “There, Xanadu, let’s move.”

“We’re not splitting up?”

“This is Hell. Of course we’re not splitting up. But we are running..”

The two men threw themselves at the door with all their might, and it fell flat on the other side. Madame Xanadu looked up slowly at her rescuers, and glared at the Shade. “Madame, that man before, it wasn’t me--”

“I know, Dickie, I know, I’m just surprised to see you so soon,” she replied, flinging her arms around the Shade. She smiled, wiped a tear from her eye, and then looked outside to the empty corridors outside. “That commotion, that was you?”

“We’re here to save Rose,” said Richard. “We’re also running. So let’s move--”

“Wait, wait, they’ve got Kid Eternity, they’re trying to make him say something that would be very… very… bad for all involved.”

“What?”

“They want to make him bring him back into the world. Someone who died hundreds, thousands of years ago, and can only be bought back with a singular voice and a singular word. They want Kid Eternity to use his powers to bring back the Anti-Christ.”

Richard Occult stared at Madame Xanadu. “Yeah.” He then proceeded to wipe the sweat from his brow and head toward the doorway they’d just entered through. “This was never going to be easy.”

* * *

“This is a blade forged from the dying curses of a million human souls. You’d think, really, that when you were dying, you’d think of your loved ones, but a percentage of humanity… oh, they get bitter. ‘Why me?!’, ‘Why not… blah-de-blah?’. This is a very sharp sword. Let me show you how sharp.” The demon torturer who was sitting in front of the chained Kit Freeman stood up and gently placed the blade against Kid Eternity’s arm, and blood began to peel down the shining black metal. Kit nearly shrieked in pain, but held the scream in through his gritted teeth. “All those curses, all directed through the blade, all available for you to feel. Say the word.”

“N-no,” whispered Kid Eternity. He was weak. That one blade stroke, that tiny wound, drained him instantly of any reserves of strength he had held on to. “No.” He grinned, as best he could. “No.”

“It’s the only word you can say! We blocked your powers! Twisted them! Your connection to the world above is gone, just say the word and I won’t have to keep doing this!” He actually stabbed this time. Through Kit’s leg. Eternity’s screams came louder than he could believe. The sword was pulled out, and he could see himself in the reflection. “Say the word. Say ‘Entropy’ and you’ll be free from this chains.”

Kid Eternity looked at his tormentor, and shook his head slowly. “I… I’m the only one who can say it? The only one who can… can… say the word?”

“You’re important, Kit, you have a reason for living. We brought you back, raised you high… and we don’t want to lay you low. Have a purpose. Have a life. Say the word.”

Kit Freeman lunged forward, toward the shining blade, and felt it slip into his body. He felt his skin part and his sternum split and he felt the smile on his lips even as the pain overwhelmed his senses. The demon released the sword, shock upon his features, even as he attempted to collect himself. Kid Eternity looked up, and winked at the demon. “Eternity.” And with that, the young hero died.

* * *

“Hhh,” Madame Xanadu nearly fell, but was caught by the Shade. They were running toward God knew where, but they had purpose, they had to keep moving. The demons were gathering on the outer fringes of their sight, waiting to overpower these panicking heroes.

“Madame, what is the matter?”

“Kit… Kit Freeman, Kid Eternity… he’s not here anymore, Dickie. My magical senses may not be as sharp as they once were, but I felt him, and now he’s gone…”

“…Does that mean?”

“No, he hasn’t said the word, we would know, Hell would… would cease to exist, and we’d die instantly. Plague and famine and war and death, simultaneously, across the world. No, I think he’s dead. I think they killed him.”

“We need to be sure, but Rose…”

“Enough,” said the Shade. “Madame Xanadu and myself will find Kid Eternity. You’re strong again, Richard. Your experiences with the Spectre have restored you. No longer are your powers preoccupied with preventing the demon seed from growing inside you. You can save her, without our help. Go. Go, save Rose.”

“Be safe,” replied Occult, before closing his eyes, gripping his Sigil tight, and turning around. “Back there. She’s back there--”

He ran. The Shade and Madame Xanadu headed in one direction, and Doctor Occult ran in another. All he’d been doing for the past year was running, chasing lead after lead, taking case after case, all in the hope that he could save Rose from the fate he himself should have been resigned to. With Yeter’el’s presence gone he knew what she’d done! Knew that she’d saved herself, trusted her life with his own strength of will, and now he had meaning in his life! He turned another corner (if you could call them corners, in this hellish place of non-angles and Escheresque corridors) and breathed in deeply, confronted by a massive door, metal twisted and contorted into shape across the center. This was it. He began to whisper a spell, focusing his energies on the Sigil of Seven, and then the door withered into ash, and then, through the threshold, he saw his enemy, and his beloved.

Doctor Occult didn’t speak again, he simply brought up the Sigil and blasted the fallen angel Yeter’el across the floor, and then ran toward Rose Psychic. “Richard!”

Occult removed her demonic restraints with a spell, and then pulled her toward himself. He kissed her, their bodies pressed together, her hands gripped his cheeks, and then their lips parted, and he simply whispered “I love you.”

Yeter’el laughed. He pulled himself up, and he began to remove his shirt. “This is fitting, isn’t it? Except this isn’t New York, it’s not raining, and we fight on my terms now. This is my place of power.”

“And this is mine,” said Richard, holding Rose’s hand. Where their hands met, a red and black energy swirled, and the Sigil of Seven crackled. “By my love’s side.”

“Is it though? She stapled my essence to your soul to prevent her torture at my hands. We’ve only been at the fun and games for a few hours, old friend, I didn’t have as much fun as I rightly should have. A soul for a soul, she said, and really, I was the one tortured, stuck in your proud, strong shell of a body!” His body began to shift, just as it did that last time they were face to face, from human to demon, but instead of shifting back, it remained horrendous, damp, black skin festering over putrid muscles, his eyes ground into his skull, until they were only white voids, and his mouth cracked open, his jaw grinding back to accommodate all the teeth that were puncturing through his obsidian gums. The forked tongue licked and flicked, journeying out the base of Yeter’el’s mouth.

“I remember the incantation. Damnation’s Flame,” replied Richard, “not a spell of her own devising.”

“But his,” finished Rose, “the ultimate in cages for the ultimate threat. We had decided, all those years ago when we first faced you, during the War, that if it had to come to it, then we would have to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. Imprison you in the safest prison we knew. Our own bodies.”

“What? You would willingly hold a demon inside you for the ‘greater good’? You would withstand the whisperings and the persuasion and the charm of a fallen angel within your ear? Madness. Doctor Occult nearly succumbed! Your dear Richard, a victim of his own spell? That… tastes… beautiful.”

“I held you in as long as I needed to. I wasn’t aware that Rose had shifted the incantation to hold her soul in limbo, but my darling love always did think on her feet.” He squeezed her hand. “Any last words.”

“Wordssss?” Yeter’el’s new lips could barely form words, but the sentiment was clear, “you… perrrrsssecuted my brotherssssssss… anddddd… iiii…” He swallowed, and his mouth shifted again and he spoke faster, with more immediacy, “you locked him away in human form and expected him not to be able to communicate with his brother? On Earth you gave him such a quaint name, ‘Scratch’, how inspireddddd. He was Xaphan, my poor brother, and together we’ve plotted your downfall since you gave him part of your flesh as punishment!”

“Scratch?” Doctor Occult smiled, “possessing the Shade, kidnapping Xanadu, Eternity, that was all part of your plan? Are you aware of how badly your plan has gone to Hell? I subdued Scratch. Made him part of the gateway between Hell and the Pit, trapped forever, gazing at the torments of his brethren with unblinking eyes. you can’t make Kid Eternity your Entropy Child because he’s dead. You are nothing.”

“My… brother?” Yeter’el grunted, and flexed his sleek wings, “why do you insist on being such a thorn in my side, Occult?!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE EVIL,” replied Occult, “and because you TOOK HER FROM ME.” And with that Rose and he blasted Yeter’el, the Sigil of Seven swirling white and black as the magical energy they formed together reached unprecedented levels, and the fallen angel was stripped of his flesh, his muscles, his putrid heart and all other matter stitched onto his bones. The monument to evil formed, black, crystal bones, lingered together for a moment, before falling backwards, and shattering across the chamber. Rose and Richard looked down upon the dead creature, and then turned toward each other. “I’m sorry. I was weak and I let you down. I’ve searched for you for so long, and this… this moment doesn’t feel real.”

“Richard, you would have done the same in my position, you knew this. We agreed. I love you. Even lingering between the moment of my parting you and my awakening here, I knew that. I held onto that thought. And we’re together now. We never need part again.”

“I love you, Rose.”

“I love you too, Richard. I always have.” She smiled, and every vile memory of the past thirty years vanished. He remembered their times together, the good times, the bad times, he remembered fighting side-by-side with the Justice Society of America, the Challengers of the Unknown, the Sentinels of Magic, he remembered warm, sticky nights lying with her underneath the sparkling moon of Gemworld, and he knew that he’d never leave her again.

“Nuh, nuh, nuhhhhhhhhharrrr,” black crystals began to rumble together, “nuhhhhhhhrrrr,” Yeter’el began to reform, absorbing stone and hell-rock from all around him. He was growing bigger than ever, and his mouth was transfixed into a hap-hazard grin. “Hhhh… hhhh…. Haaaa… youuuu cannot stop meeeee hhhheere!”

Doctor Occult moved in front of Rose. “Really?” He took the bone whistle from around his neck. And then he blew it. The sound made was haunting, the walls rumbled, but Richard Occult kept blowing into it, until the ceiling began to quake. Richard finally finished, and looked to Rose, who had a confused expression upon her face. He nodded, and she smiled, knowing to trust him, and then pointed up.

The Spectre did not burst through the stone roof of the chamber, his albino skin did not blaze white, and his green cape was not aflame with the righteous power he commanded. Jim Corrigan drifted down toward the newly revived Yeter'el, and pointed a finger at him, and without a sound the tremendous beast that was once threatening to kill them all was gone, no trace left of him. Jim looked over to Rose and smiled. "You're looking good, Rose."

"Thank you... James?"

"Yeah, it's me." Corrigan's visage flickered for a moment, the form of the Spectre appearing and disappearing frenetically, without control over it. "This is it. The end of the line."

* * *

"No!" Madame Xanadu and The Shade entered the torture chamber where Kid Eternity hung like a piece of meat waiting to be processed, the sword he had impaled himself upon still hanging within his chest, blood drenching his body. Madame Xanadu checked his pulse, grabbing the boy's face to see if there was any sign of life within him. "He's gone. He's dead. Lost to us..."

"He didn't want to betray us. He didn't want to become the Entropy Child they prophesied him to be; the Anti-Christ, or whoever they were expecting, is not rising today..."

"We need to get out of here, back home, back to safety and out of Hell..."

The Shade weaved a portal with his cane, a doorway through the Shadowlands leading back Earth-side floating in the space before us. "Richard knows what he's doing. He's got a whistle that can summon The Spectre with a blow, and in all honesty, Madame, I do not want to be there when the Spirit of Vengeance turns up."

"I... I can understand that."

"Tch. Such a shame they all leapt to the assumption I was the villain of the piece, don't you think," he said slowly, as he stepped through the portal after Xanadu. "Makes me think all my efforts are being wasted... what's the point in playing the hero when no one believes you're truly making the effort...?"

* * *

"The end of the line? What do you mean?" said Doctor Occult quietly, as he removed his coat and placed it over Rose Psychic's shoulders. "We need to get out of here, we need to--"

Corrigan put up his hand. "I stuck around for you, Richard. As a favor to a friend. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. The Spectre is pulling at me even now, and it's taking all my strength of will to stay anchored to this spot. You had a deal with the devil and you need to stick by that."

"What?! I'm not leaving Rose! I'm not leaving her in hell after what we've been through to get her back."

--Outside of the chamber, sealed to the hordes outside, the sound of a thousand angry grotesqueries grew louder. Claws scratched and teeth grated against solid demonic stone--

"She needs to stay. To kill a demon... two elite demons like you have today, in Hell no less? Letting that go so easily... something else will fill the void. Something else will move into their place, more powerful, more evil, harder to vanquish and beyond your nightmares to imagine... she needs to stay. Evil dies, evil moves in to take it's place... but to have a source of good in Hell? The wound will heal, the gape will fill with lesser demons and monsters... she has to stay."

Rose didn't look shocked. She didn't look scared. "Richard, I--"

--Fists slammed against the doorway into the chamber, bones breaking but never faltering, the demons wanting in but held out by The Spectre's wrath--

"I. Will. Not. Lose. You. How long, Jim? How long would she have to stay?"

"The scab would heal over in a year, Richard. It's the way the world works."

--The demons outside roared, like breaking glass shattering forever, vocal chords strained bloody but going that extra step in anticipation--

"And a year in hell stretches to an eternity down here. A month would pass and it would be a century. I know the rules and logic of this place and I refuse to subjugate my wife to it. I'll stay."

"What?!"

* * *

"That hurt." The world was a startling white. Kit Freeman looked at his hands, unbound, clear of the blood that had caked them mere moments before... he didn't know where he was, but he felt warm, he felt comfortable, and he felt... at home.

"What were you expecting, Kit?"

"Less... hurt?" he said with a smile. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"You were never abandoned, Kit. You were always kept safe, watched from afar... we couldn't interfere with the world as events unraveled but you've been removed from the board, and it is time you learned of your true destiny."

"I know your voice. Oh, lord... I know you."

"Of course you do, Kit. I'm Mr Keeper. Now... let's talk about your new un-life..."

* * *

Richard smiled, suppressing a laugh. So much like himself. The second half of his soul. "You would do the same for me."

--The chamber shook, giant footsteps outside quashing the hordes clamoring to get in, just to get closer to the doors, just to get closer to those inside--

"I am willing too! This isn't about you, this is about me and--"

"I'm not arguing with you. This is what people do when they're truly in love. They shoulder the burden when their beloved shouldn't have to. And you've been gone for so long... and a year up above..." He leaned in close to her, his head resting against hers. "An eternity with the light at the end of the tunnel being you? I've experienced that pain before and I would willingly again because I know... I know you're waiting." Behind her back, he motioned for Corrigan to step forward. "I love you, Rose. Forever and always. You are my heart and my reason for living and these past years, alone... empty... have been Hell." He kissed her, long and passionate, and then stepped back. "A year."

--Dust fell from the ceiling, and the door quaked once more, the door, a solid wedge of demonic concrete shifted forward and finally broke loose, and the demons swarmed inside--

"No! No you aren't--!" James placed his hand on Rose's shoulder, she spun around, and screamed, only to vanish in a flash of light as The Spectre took her home.

Richard breathed in, and then turned to see the hordes of Hell chewing at the bit for a piece of him. "Right. Okay." His fist clenched up, and he grinned. "Come on you bastards. COME ON!"

* * *

"--doing this!" Rose Psychic exploded into reality beside Jim Corrigan and the assembled forces of the GCPD and the Justice League as they arrived from Hell. Guns were drawn but The Spectre billowed up and the guns fell down, horrified by this divine force of nature.

The Flash was the first person to step forward and address the newly returned Rose. "You're her, aren't you... Rose Psychic... the one Doctor Occult has been searching for all this time...?"

"Y-Yes," she whispered, amazed at the League of heroes assembled before her, unlike the Justice Society of America or the Freedom Fighters or any of the heroes she once knew. "Oh... God..." she fell to her knees. "Richard... he's... he's... he's gone... he's gone and I... oh... no..." She sobbed, and James Corrigan placed his hand on her shoulder, only to be shrugged off violently. She twisted around, pointing an accusing finger, shaking visibly as tears welled up in her eyes. "And you let him do it! You let him play the hero! The martyr! You took him away from me and now he's gone and..."

"He'll be back," Corrigan said slowly. "A year from today. He'll return to you."

"Oh, Richard," Rose Psychic whispered. Her hand found it's way into the pocket of Richard's trenchcoat, and when she withdrew it, she found herself tightly holding the Sigil of Seven. "..."

[/b]

Rose Psychic was flanked by a veritable gallery of magicans, warlocks and tricksters. Hunters of evil things stood on the edges of the garden, the estate once owned by the deceased Randall Fine, acolyte of the man known as 'Scratch' now owned by a consortium of witches and wizards, ready to protect this new scab in reality from those that might seek to take advantage of the congealing Hell magicks ruminating there like a bad smell. They were here to witness something important to the purveyor and host of the House of Mystery, a place where they sometimes called home when they traveled the ley-lines of the magical world, where they needed rest from their journeys down the Danger Trail.

Tonight was the night, one year on since his sacrifice for his wife, that Richard Occult would return. This very spot was where he left, this very spot was where he would return. Her rain coat was wrapped tightly around her body. She'd reconnected with some old friends, some ageing, some eternally young, some passed on but still loitering in the upper realms of the living, but she knew that she couldn't live life to it's fullest until he was there living it beside her. She looked at her pocket watch, and breathed in, anticipation electric amongst her peers.

Tick, her watch said, tick. She smiled. "Apt, I think."

The Shade tipped his hat down, and looked at her. "What would that be, Rose?"

She showed him the time. "Devil’s hour."

There was a crackle of thunder in the sky up above, and Rose looked up, the rain pouring down her face. "Come home to me, Richard..."

The ground began to shake. A dozen mystics closed their eyes as the future became clear to them.

The rain stopped abruptly, and the warlocks whispered protection spells.

"It's time," said The Shade

There was an explosion of red and black light in the centre of the circle of magicians, sparks of magical energy flying every which way, bouncing off invulnerable skin and protective barriers and then, in the centre of the circle… was nothing. A smouldering patch of dead earth, but no Richard Occult. Nothing but the quiet eeriness that had lingered in the night before the hour came to pass, returning once more.

"Richard?" whispered Rose Psychic, as he looked around for her lost love. “…Richard?”