the seekers

What Has Come Before: The return of an ancient demon bearing the name Roland Fannin has driven young sorceress Jennifer Kale to form the Seekers, a group dedicated to helping humanity avoid the days of chaos that lie ahead. While Fannin has united with Lilith and her evil progeny, Kale has surrounded herself with Ghost Rider -- the Spirit of Vengeance; Moon Knight -- the Fist of Khonshu; Magik -- Mistress of Limbo; and Firestar --  mutant heroine of tomorrow. 

Atlanta, Georgia

Wayne Martin took another hit off his joint and leaned back against his car. The parking lot was full of vehicles, many of them emblazoned with various University of Georgia memorabilia. Not Wayne's, though. He was a Tech fan, had been since he was a little boy... Something about the black and gold appealed to him. Maybe it was the way it set him apart from the UGA cult that surrounded the Athens and Atlanta areas. 

He ran a hand over the hood of his car, looking at the pick-up truck in front of him. A window cling of the Bulldog's mascot was right in the center of the rear window and the team's logo shone brightly off a vanity plate in the front. It made Wayne's stomach churn just looking at it.

Bearing a sickly grin, Wayne knelt down beside the truck and reached into his jacket's inside pocket. He pulled out a small knife and proceeded to jab it hard into the tire. "Take that, you little bast--"

A dark shadow fell over him and Wayne felt his heart leap up into his throat. Just my luck, he thought. The jerk has to come out to his car of all times....

"Listen, pal, I'm real sorry about the car... I can explain, though. It's--" Wayne's words drifted into nothingness as he looked up... The face that stared down at him was completely inhuman, with broad features and feral eyes. The grin skin tone and dark mop of hair were as horrifyingly familiar. They'd been showcased on practically every news magazine's cover at one point or another, after all. 

The Hulk.

Robert Bruce Banner, they also called him, but Wayne didn't see any of that skinny pansy-ass scientist in the monster before him. 

No, sir.

"Please don't kill me," Wayne whispered, his voice sounding high-pitched and thin.

The Hulk grunted in response, his eyes locking onto Wayne's and not wavering. "Hulk... tired. Want to sleep."

Wayne was too startled to move when the green-skinned creature suddenly sagged forward into his arms. He expected to be crushed to death beneath the Hulk's great weight, but to his surprise the being he caught in mid-air was even skinnier than Wayne himself. The man had brown hair and a slight frame, his cheeks covered with a fine moss of beard. The only thing he wore was a pair of tattered purple slacks.

Wayne lowered Bruce to the ground, unsure of what to do. He thought about running, pretending that none of this ever happened... but something stopped him from doing so. It certainly wasn't any sense of personal responsibility -- he'd always managed to avoid that particular trap. It wasn't quite self-interest, either, though. It was more a sense of pre-destination. Like these events had been written already, by some greater power -- and Wayne was just a bit player in a greater scheme. "Mr. Banner? Can you hear me?"

"Betty. Where's... Betty?" Banner asked, his eyes unfocused and glazed. He looked like he'd just run a marathon.

Wayne didn't answer right away. He'd seen something about Banner's wife dying a few years back -- before the Hulk himself had gone off the deep end*. "I'll help you find her, man... but we gotta get out of here. Okay?"

(*See Gary Dreslinski's classic Incredible Hulk series, hosted at Avengers 2000)

Bruce nodded weakly. "If I find Betty, it'll all be okay...."

The werewolf staggered back, golden crescent darts lining his furry torso. Blood gushed from his wounds and he roared back at his enemies, seeking to galvanize what was left of his pack into another defensive stand.

Jennifer Kale couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor bastard -- like so many other creatures of the night, the werewolf community had been touched by the rising tide of chaos magic in the air. It was driving them mad, forcing them out of their sheltered communities and into the world of man. This particular group of lycanthropes had gotten into the habit of making nocturnal raids at several New York nightclubs, leading the Seekers to track them to their lair.

Moon Knight hefted a heavy gold ankh in one hand, driving it hard into the skull of his opponent. At his back, the Spirit of Vengeance was flailing his mystic chain about, its barbed tips biting deep into supernatural flesh. Above them all, Firestar rained down concentrated bursts of microwave energy.

"We're functioning well -- Like we were meant to be together," Magik muttered as she drove her eldritch blade through a werewolf's heart.

Jennifer Kale defended herself with a mystic shield while tapping into the primal elemental forces around her. The ground shook beneath the feet of her foe, knocking him onto his back where Magik finished him off. "We're going to need that teamwork... There's more and more of this kind of thing and it's distracting us from our real goal."

"What difference does it make?" Firestar asked, landing nearby. The battle was pretty much over, with only the werewolf leader left standing. He was caught between Moon Knight and Ghost Rider, both of whom were throwing everything they had against him. 

Jennifer turned away from the physical conflict, looking at Angelica. There was an obvious bitterness to the red-haired girl's words and Jennifer understood the reasons why: her lover, Vance Astrovik, was missing. His body had disappeared after the demon Roland Fannin's assault. "These creatures are just a symptom of a larger disease, Angelica. The man behind it all is the same one who hurt Vance. I'd say it makes one hell of a difference, wouldn't you?"

"It won't bring him back," Angel retorted and Jennifer immediately regretted her own spiteful words. Angelica was still a young girl -- even younger than Jennifer herself -- and was having a terrible time dealing with recent events. The destruction of the New Warriors during the Stark Invasion was still a fresh wound for her and now she had to deal with Vance's supposed death....

"I'm sorry, Angel... I just want to get after the bastard who did this to you."

Angel sighed and nodded, looking away. She seemed to have aged considerably in just a few weeks, alternating between periods of almost frightening inner-strength and moments of extreme brittleness. "I know. And I appreciate it." She cast a forlorn glance at one of the werewolves, who was reverting to his human form now that the sun was beginning to rise. "It's just that I feel like I've wandered into a weird nightmare and nothing's real anymore."

"I've had that feeling before," Amanda Sefton whispered. As Magik, she was now ruler of Limbo and Mistress of the Winding Way, but she had been a woman before that -- a woman who had lost men of her own, too many times to count. "You have to push forward. It gets easier."

The three women turned as a bone-chilling scream filled the air. Ghost Rider was subjecting the last of the werewolves to his dreaded Penance Stare, forcing the supernatural creature to bear witness to his own multitude of sins. 

"He scares the hell out of me," Angel said.

"Just be glad he's on our side," Jennifer responded. She walked towards the two male members of the group, offering up a wan smile. "A nice night's work."

Moon Knight nodded, tapping a hidden control on his gauntlet. His cloak began to whip about him wildly as his moon-copter answered his summons and began to lower above them. A rope ladder descended to meet his grasp. "We could still be doing more -- There's no need for the entire team to go after groups like this. If we split up, we'd be able to cover more area."

"I want us to learn each other's fighting styles. We can't confront Fannin like a bunch of individuals -- We need to be a unit."

Moon Knight grunted, locking eyes with Jennifer. "You know, I don't remember electing you leader -- but you sure as hell seem to think you are."

"And who's going to do the job otherwise?" she challenged. "I haven't anyone besides you throwing their hat in the ring... and given the piss-poor job you did with with DD's team*, your track record isn't inspiring any confidence."

(*See Marvel Knights v. 1)

"Be silent!" Ghost Rider roared, his voice sounding strained and angry. All eyes turned to the fiery-skulled Spirit of Vengeance, who was swaying somewhat unsteadily. "I sense... something disturbing."

Amanda made a sigil in the air. "I'm not picking up anything unusual. Jen?"

"No..." Jennifer reached out and touched the sleeve of the Ghost Rider's jacket. "What does it feel like, Noble?"

"An ancient evil is in danger of being unleashed -- but someone is trying to prevent it." Images tumbled through Noble Kale's mind, of a man on the back of a motorcyle being pursued by a demonic force. He saw a fleshless face rise up before him, one cloaked in Hellfire. It suddenly made a bit of sense to him, this odd feeling that he had... it was because Blood was involved. Kale blood. "Your cousin... Dan's brother... we must find him. Quickly."

Jennifer felt the color drain from her cheeks. "You're talking about John Blaze, aren't you?"

"Yes... and we only have a brief amount of time to find him!"

"You're doing great, m'man... You're doing great."

James McIntyre wasn't too sure about that. He felt... weird was too much of an understatement. Unreal summed it up better. "What did you do to me, you jackass?" he asked, but his words came out in a growl. He had allowed his new friend to take him back to a club called Dante's, where they'd meet the wildest girls imaginable. They'd let James do things he'd only read about in Penthouse Forum... and when it was all over and done, James had taken a hit of something 'special,' something given only to the elite of the elite -- or so James had been told.

Almost immediately, he'd broken out in a cold sweat and begun drifting off into unconsciousness. He saw/heard/felt a man named Roland Fannin come to him. He felt himself changed at the man's touch, growing and shifting into something not quite human... but something with a ravenous hunger for flesh. If James had the strength of will to force himself to look into a mirror, he would have seen a mockery of humanity staring back at him: seven feet tall and covered in wiry hair, sprouting from all over his back and joints. His face was elongated and slightly canine, though the eyes were a glowing green. Huge bat-like wings gave the last twist to his growing inhumanity.

"Take it easy, James... You got a job to do. You hear me?"

James looked at his partner, who had lit a match. The flames entranced James in a way that nothing ever had before... the fire made him angry; eager. "Yes," he said, though his words were once again lost to some animalistic tongue.

Malcolm held up a photograph of a slightly grizzled-looking man, who wore a long trenchcoat over some sort of dark blue uniform. James recognized the man instantly -- John Blaze, star of many a fondly-remembered tv special. Blaze did stunts that nobody -- not even the Human Fly -- could touch. James used to love him. Now, as the image before him shifted magically to show Blaze with a flaming skull, he felt nothing but a predatory desire for blood. "Go. Sniff him out. Make him hurt. You dig?"

James nodded, his eyes glittering. His wings flexed and he took to the sky, something deep within him leading him to his prey.

Malcolm watched him go, a slight smile on his lips. He took out a joint and lit it, savoring the way the slightly bitter taste filled his mouth. "He's going to bring a world of hurt on that man, isn't he?"

Lilith, Mother of Monsters, stepped from the shadows. Her pale white skin was barely concealed by knee high boots and a skintight purple leotard. Her dark eyes were filled with dark mirth. "I think he will. Our new Lilin hungers for the blood of Kales."

John Blaze downed the last of his whiskey, gritting his teeth to ward off the pounding in his head. It was well past the two a.m. closing time for the bar, but the guys cleaning up hadn't bothered trying to run him off. He had an air of danger about him, the kind of thing that set everyone on edge. They'd leave him be and hope that nothing bad happened while he was around -- John was used to that sort of thing. His wife, Roxanne, had even accused him of cultivating it....

But that was before she'd 'died.' Before she'd been 'reborn' as a servant of Blackheart called Black Rose. Before everything that had been good and bright in John's life had been snuffed out. He'd given up all hope of getting her and the kids back, had tried to live a normal life as an accountant of all things. He'd found a good woman named Chloe, who loved him and didn't ask too many questions.

But it had all come apart, as always. 

"Thanks to you, Z. You always fuck it up," he said, staring down into the empty glass in his hand.

At his side, though no one but John Blaze could see it, was the Soul-Stealer known as Zarathos. The figure watched him mutely, dressed in the blue jumpsuit that Blaze had favored for so many years. Flames danced wildly about Zarathos' skull, but no heat came from them. These were Hellfire... and they burned far differently from the fire of man.

"You're still giving me the silent treatment, eh? Fine. Be that way. But you're the one sleeping on the couch tonight."

Blaze slid off his bar stool, fighting the urge to vomit when the world shifted around him. He was drunk. Really, rip-roaring drunk. 

Outside, the night air revived him a bit... and made him hate himself all the more. How had he gotten to this point? Did losing Roxie really screw him over this bad? Or was it losing the kids that had pushed him over the edge?

He found his way to his bike, which wasn't difficult as it was the only thing left in the parking lot. He knew he shouldn't drive like this, but he had to find his hotel and punch out for awhile. In the morning, he'd straighten his life out.

In the morning. That's the ticket.

The unexpected impact sent him flying head over heels, his fingers ripped from the handlebars of his motorcyle. He landed hard, blood spraying from a split lip. His shotgun, always worn strapped to the leg of his jeans, was off and in his hands almost immediately. He could feel the demon within him hungering for release, but he liked to make Zarathos wait.

What he saw bearing down on him almost made him regret that decision. The inhuman monster was streaking through the air towards him, claws at the ready. Red droplets oozed from their tips and John knew that it was his blood that had stained the thing's nails. 

He aimed his gun as best he could, considering that his vision was blurred at the moment, and fired. The gun still fired concentrated Hellfire -- a gift left over from his association with Noble Kale -- and the mystic flames struck home, burning through the monster's fur. It howled in rage and anger, its power being fueled by its contact with the horrible fire. 

The creature landed atop him, driving its nails deep into Blaze's flesh again and again. The thing that had once been James McIntyre was lost now in a wave of blood-frenzy. John felt himself begin to change, to surrender a portion of life to the monster within... Zarathos, despite it all, would save him. He always did.

The change began...

and then receded, leaving John Blaze at the mercy of a killer.

What the hell are you doing, Z? Come out! I need you!

There was no answer, but Blaze keenly felt a ripple of mirth go through him... and he suddenly knew, without a doubt, that Zarathos was going to let him die.

Bruce Banner dreamed of monsters... though for once in his tortured existence, those monsters were neither green nor gray; and they had no professed fondness for ripped purple pants.

These monsters were far worse in their way, for they lurked in the hearts of all men. They planted seeds of darkness there... and cultivated them until they sprouted into an ever-growing field of pure, deep black. It was the beginning of a new age, one in which Bruce's beloved science had no place... this was Chaos. Magick. Insanity.

You could be an instrument of great aid to those who seek the light.

Bruce tossed and turned on Wayne's couch, his face contorting into a mask of confusion. "Who are you?" he mumbled. In the kitchen, Wayne looked up from his girly mag. 

Someone who wants to be a friend, Bruce Banner. Someone who wants to steer you in the right direction... In this world, in this time, you are dead. Your wife is dead. Many of your greatest enemies are dead. You are a pariah to this time and place, Bruce Banner. You need to forge a new destiny, one that will be all your own....

"Betty?" Bruce whispered. "She's... dead?"

Bruce's skin began to shift in color as his heart began to pound.

The voice grew more insistent, eager to soothe the monster's growing concern. Gain control of yourself! Becoming the Hulk here and now will not aid you! You must use Reason, for that is something that is in short supply... Do these things and your Betty will be restored to you.

Bruce felt a glorious light suddenly swell up inside him. The voice was now Betty's, reassuring and warm. I'm waiting, Bruce -- But you have to seek out Jennifer Kale first. She'll bring you to me! Hurry!

Bruce sat up straight, causing Wayne to jump in alarm. "You okay, pal?" he asked from the other room, watching with wide eyes as Bruce rose to his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." He adjusted his glasses and glanced around Wayne's trailer. "But I need a phone."

"Who are you calling?"

Bruce smiled softly, knowing that Wayne was terrified of him. "It's okay. Really. As soon as I have some cash, I'll help pay for any damages that I might have--"

"You didn't hurt anything," Wayne answered. "If you need help, I don't mind, that's all...."

"Thanks." Bruce extended a hand and Wayne accepted it after a moment's hesitation. "I need all the friends I can get. And I get the feeling maybe you do, too."

John Blaze heard the roar of a motorcycle's engine and for just a second he thought he was back in his youth, watching as Crash Simpson performed another of his dazzling stunts, electrifying the crowd. He felt Roxanne at his side and felt her love wash over him. He smiled to himself, through a face full of blood.

"Unhand him, spawn of hell!"

The voice, so full of righteous fury, brought him back to the real world. He opened a swollen eye to see Ghost Rider standing over him, his mystic chain wrapped tightly 'round the winged creature.

"Don't move, John... You've got a lot of internal damage." Jennifer Kale knelt at John's side, wrapping him in her warm embrace. He felt magical energy flood through him, repairing as much as possible... but he could still feel something wrong within him. 

"What's happening?" he whispered.

"You're being rescued. Now hush."

John gave in to her words, letting himself be pulled into unconsciousness. Around him, the Seekers were finding themselves hard-pressed to deal with the transformed James McIntyre. The creature backhanded Ghost Rider away from him, ignoring the way the chain had dug deep rivulets into his own flesh. 

Magik moved forward, brandishing her sword, and struck fast and hard. Her sword nearly sliced one of the monster's wings from its back, sending a jet of blood into the air. Moon Knight took that moment to strike, as well. He drove a truncheon into the monster's side, driving it hard into its ribs.

The creature grabbed hold of Amanda's wrist and twisted it violently, causing the Mistress of Limbo to cry out in pain. 

Firestar watched as the winged thing jumped into the air, its injured wing barely able to keep it aloft. She flew towards it, easily overtaking her foe, and unleashed a powerful set of microwaves. The energy burned the monster horribly, causing it to cry out and lose its ability to stay in the air. It fell to the ground, crashing with a painful clatter.

Moon Knight immediately jumped upon the creature, placing his telescoping staff against its throat. "If you have the intelligence to follow my words, nod your head."

James McIntyre growled in response, his mind lost in a haze of pain and fury. But he also knew beyond a doubt that the man above him was going to kill him unless he found a way to show he was more than a mindless beast. He forced himself to calm down... and nodded slowly.

"He actually understands you?" Firestar asked, landing nearby. She kept her distance from the creature, repulsed by it.

"I think he's some poor soul who's been changed," Moon Knight replied. He kept his weapon where it was, however, sensing that the thing below might not have the strength of will to avoid attacking again if given the opportunity. "Kale, Sefton -- either of you know how to change him back?"

Jennifer ran a hand over John's cheek, a look of concern on her features. "Amanda -- You better give it a try. I'm afraid I'm losing John over here."

Ghost Rider moved to join Jennifer, looking down at the brother of his host, Dan Ketch. "I am not certain I can tap into the powers I once had as the Angel of Death...."

"I know, Noble... We just have to hope my magic, coupled with John's will to live, will be enough."

Magik knelt beside Moon Knight's foe, keeping her hands away from him. She could see some intelligence in his eyes but it was masked by a lot of anger... fear... shame... and many other negative emotions. "Someone's unleashed the darker side of his personality. It's predatory, but based on feelings of domination and control. He--"

"Are you going to psychoanalyze him or fix him? I can't hold him back all day."

"Sorry, Marc." Amanda closed her eyes and let the magic of the Winding Way pass through her. It was ancient and mysterious, but it felt so right that she couldn't resist letting a smile play across her lips. She felt the boy's mind -- that's what he was, a boy, nothing more and nothing less. So many insecurities there... Magik tried to reach out to the human spirit within the monstrous shell, coaxing it out. She found a good bit of resistance, especially when he sensed that she was female. This person -- James, she realized -- had a lot of issues with women. 

It's okay, James... I just want to help you. Please... trust me.

The spirit within recoiled at first, but it gradually reached out to her -- and she fed it as much magical energy as possible. It grew in strength, nudging out the darkness that clung to it....

And when she opened her eyes, she saw a frightened young man before her.

"You did it!" Firestar whispered, stepping up. "That was incredible...."

"Please, don't hurt me," James said, gripping Moon Knight's staff. "I'll tell you things -- I'll help."

"Let him go," Jennifer said. She ignored Moon Knight's glare as he stepped away from James. "We've got a bigger problem than I thought...."

Noble Kale, his skull still flickering brightly, nodded. He was supporting John Blaze in his arms. "The entity known as Zarathos is gone. It has fled Blaze's mortal form...."

Next Issue: "Tapping the Vein" part one. Vampires, Nightstalkers and more!

SCRIBBLINGS OF MADNESS

There you have it -- the end of our first storyline. Next issue will see the Seekers traveling to New Orleans for a confrontation with the remnants of the old Nightstalkers -- Blade, Hannibal King and Frank Drake! Wear something to protect your neck, folks. I would also like to say that the next storyline will be somewhat slower-paced, as we get to see our Seekers doing something other than fighting monsters (and each other!).

J Stevenson posted the following to the Avengers 2000 Mailing List:

Have you ever wondered how certain writers who you thought you knew so well, after years and years could still come out and surprise you? That's kind of what Barry Reese does. I've been reading Barry's stuff for almost five years now. That's one helluva long time.

It's no secret to anyone who's been around fanfic for a while that Barry's one of the oldest and best in the trade (oldest meaning he's been around the genre for a while, not that he belongs in geriatrics). Most newer readers
will hear Barry Reese and their minds will immediately jump to the wonderful Pendragons Imprint. I must confess, that's probably the first thing that pops to my mind too, but only because its the most recent exploit.
Regardless, you hear the name Barry Reese and you know you can expect some great superhero stories. He's consistent, he's good, and you think that there's nothing left that he can do to surprise you.

Then comes Seekers at Avengers2000. It's been so long since I read the original series, that I think I had forgotten that Barry's also a great horror writer. This series was a very pleasant read, especially for a guy
like myself, who sometimes gets his fill of the superhero genre.

If I had one complaint it would be that the cast is too familiar. The original Seekers series was a cast of even bigger misfits, most of whom I'd never heard of before. The current Seekers seem more like the replacement
Defenders with a more singular focus. However, after about half an issue, that quibble was quickly forgotten as I got swept away in the story. Barry's writing is at its best here, just a testament to the fact that a
good writer can get even better.

Barry, keep 'em coming. I look forward to being pleasantly surprised again.

Thank you very, very much. I genuinely appreciate the sentiments and I'm glad you found a bit of pleasure in
the stuff I've written.

Seekers is a concept that I've always enjoyed and the new series is a fun way of updating it for readers and
for myself. I agree that the new group is more familiar than the old (I do honestly miss the Arabian Knight!) but I really wanted to do an av2k series with a bunch of my favorites, so that's what you've gotten. :-)

See You Soon,

Barry Reese